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the grin was actually more like a wince as she had eaten far too many brussels sprouts

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Sorry don"t know the storry 🙁 .Great article.Voted,Subed.

You are writing the story with a comment, follow on from what is said before

@Firejon oh right thanks,I"ll try.

and green soft grass tender her chick so tenderly that she felt warmly to her heart .Green green grass touched her all over her body.

How poetic

...for it was of course Welsh fruitloop and occasional singer Tom Jones gently caressing her.

He started to sing God save the Queen like a sex pistol and took an apple out of his bag.

o/

He began eating the apple while staring into the lit match, knowing full well that the flesh of the fruit had been replaced with a powerful laxative.

He emptied his bowels all over the plush carpet beneath him, but felt ever so much better afterwards.

Mr Jones, as he liked to be called, then donned his spacesuit and set about climbing into the homemade rocket, him and Steve Jones had spent the last week constructing.

But "she" did not wanted Mr Jones to fly to the moon...

sorry, draw a blank... to much to do.

..."She" wanted him in her bed with his spacesuit, because that was what turned her on (getting Moonraked to ecstacy), but not Steve Jones. Steve Jones could fuck off. There was a brief kerfuffle as She and Mr. Jones showed Steve to the door due in part to Steve Jones having a bit of a cry in the porch, and due in another part to all three of them having to divert around the poo-poo stained plush carpet, which She thought was terribly gross, but Jonesy was in his shiny sexy spacesuit, and her sex drive told her to not give a damn. So she didn't.
Finally, in bed with Her welsh sex-bomb crooning away behind his visor, She doused herself and the welsh sing song man with petrol and grinned devilishly at the still lit match that had gone so far without another mention.
"If this goes to plan", she thought to herself "then finally I shall all that I desire"
With eyes closed, and thighs parted she dropped the lit match.
And then...

She let forth a huge fart which not only blew out the match but also cracked the visor on the space suit.

But wait... she remembered that she was actually a lady and that ladies don't fart.
She realised she must have imagined that via her common slutty alter ego (which needless to say she always kept repressed)
So the lit match sailed down towards the petrol soaked pussy & then.......

Tabitha her cat cashed in on one of her life's and jumped out of the window. Tabitha knew her mistress needed help but she was a cat.....

and a cat has got to do what a cat has to do...Tabitha then set off down a nearby alley...

Cat farted.

It was rancid, like the luncheon that he had prepared earlier that day, a sandwich filled with

She*

snails, brought to her by her French lover called Alex.

Well, he wasn't French, nor her lover, but he brought her food!

FUCK HER RIGHT IN THE PUSSY

She felt extremely hot and started taking off her tenderly silk clothes from her tenderly polished skin.

I am sorry said Mr Jones, I cannot leave my space suit and have an appointment on the moon so I have to go now, but take my cooler.

At which point he handed his hand carved Moroccan cooler to the girl, slapped a button on his wrist, activating his rocket boots, and began to ascend

the jet wash glanced off Alex's polished skin making her even more radiant than ever. Pity, as Mr Jones preferred Tabitha

http://www.erepublik.com/es/article/mision-1-31-2446800/1/20#comments

YABADABADOOOOOOOOOOO

Unfortunately for Mr Jones, Tabatha the cat preferred hunting, inflicting blood and pain.
Channelling her distant tiger ancestors, with their slashing teeth & rending claws
she saw what appeared to her to be a wriggley plump little hamster stuck on Mr Jones crotch

Everyone died as Hulk just sat and chilled with all the hoes

my 25th, thank you so much for helping me finish this challenge