Oranges. ...sucked out of the stiff nipple of a perfectly round young female teenage breast.
Fellow pedophilic gentlemen, I've been sucking at this breast every day for the past months, and at this point I would choose my orange juice over a teenage breast any day.
It's a local brand, so you probably will never get close to this, but I'm here to tell you that that juice of yours that you're suffering through - that bitter, coarse, rotten, filthy stuff - that it doesn't have to be that way. That is not how orange juice is supposed to taste like.
...and it's cheap as well. It's the taste of luxury, but without the pricing.
Here's some guidelines to start looking for:
- Is it 100% orange juice, with the pulp still in it? If it's not, then you're probably living in filthy North America and eating out of a trough. My condolences.
- Is it cold-pressed? This is the key, but here's a good tell:
- Does it tend to separate to some degree, if you leave it on the store shelf or your fridge, for a day or two?
...and remember, my fellow pedo aristocrats: There is a heaven (made out of perfect orange juice, and meat and chicken kebab). You just have to search the store shelves for it.
Then you will never know what it feels like to squeeze a teenage breast like a Sunkist, and have it squirt out a stream of juicy goodness directly under the tip of your tongue.
Next up: Kebab! Make sure it's boneless!