Halos bros

I once attended a math conference and I got a seat right in front of the snack table. That was my first taste of the forbidden fruit. I abused my position, and I ate them. All of them. The whole pack was gone. I started attacking the second pack. It was glorious. The next day I got like 3 halo bags. I finished them within the week. They became breakfast, lunch and dinner and everything in between.

At night I snuck out of my room to eat halos. It was occasional at first. Sometimes I was up working late and the midnight munchies hit, and I quickly quenched my hunger with a halo. Then two. Then three. Then eventually it got so bad that I’d wake up in the middle of the night, at 3 am, unable to sleep because I was craving halos. So I ate some. Sometimes I spent the entire night eating halos. Sometimes I’d use the peel to masturbate. Sometimes, I’d cum not with halos, but to halos. I’d imagine my perfect woman: a bag of halos with a wig, and two halos for tits. Those little oranges were indeed the tits. I dreamt of making sweet, sweet love to the sweet, sweet oranges.

If I bled, I bled orange juice. If I salivated, I salivated orange juice. If I came, I came orange juice. I say this now, as I devour halo after halo.


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