Alright. Here's your write-up: This is a stellar fucking jacket. The kind of stellar jacket that gets you stares. Good ones. Stares from women who want to drape your fucking jacket over their naked breasts while you pound them. Stares from jealous dudes who know that their girls wants to drape your fucking jacket over their naked breasts while you pound them. I walked into work today, and the receptionist and the woman she was talking to literally stopped and stared at me, speechless. The receptionist eventually started blabbering, "You look like...you look like a...you look like you just walked off a movie set!" the other woman continued to stare. Do you see that leather? Do you see how supple it is?. Do you see the subtle sheen? The almost blue-black veins that permeate the hide? It doesn't feel like lamb. It feels like your penis does when nobody's home and it's just you and the Jurgens. It feels like the skin of baby sheep cocks that you drape on your body. It feels so fucking good it should be illegal. It feels like fucking. This jacket fucking reeks of sex. This is the jacket that that fucking guy wears, that one guy who always seems to get everything he wants for nothing. That one guy who all the women fawn over, fondle, and caress, while you stare at your stupid fucking hoodie. This is a jacket for the master of the indolent, the modern renaissance man, the kind of man who knows what kind of fucking drink he wants at the bar, and doesn't ever get shorted by the bartender. This is the kind of jacket that girls want to wrap around their shoulders during the walk to the cab. The kind of jacket they try to put on over their dresses the morning after. The kind of fucking jacket that every man who wants to be somebody should own. That's me. Yeah, that's what that fucking guy looks like. Call your girlfriend. If she doesn't answer, guess what? It's because I'm fucking her right now, in the hole you never even get to see.