Quit quaffing dem queefs, queenie...
Uncharacteristically, the simple web proposes a great definition for once.
Quaffing : to drink a beverage, especially an intoxicating one, copiously and with hearty enjoyment.
That's exactly what it is, but I do mean exactly ; hence it was traditionally used in ye olde RPGs (before the pretense to an, as it turns out unsustainable, "MMO") to describe what playable characters do to potions. The mage quaffs a mana potion & piticii de batalie fac 373 stricaciune.
A queef meanwhile is what happens to roughly used cunts. You know that ditty whereby men are smarter and women talk more because men have two heads and women have two mouths ? A cunt is what it is, a mouth between the legs, except with two pairs of lips and arranged orthogonally (for about the same reason the internet socket would have its two holes arranged vertically if indeed it came in sockets and they needed two holes like electricity does : to distinguish from the horizontally arranged socket somehow). If you fuck the inguinal osi roughly and with no concern for its natural functioningii it'll... start talking. It's just what happens.iii
A queenie's just what they call a certain unstable arrangement -- specifically, the hominid which presents strongly with the top mouth, while in fact the bottom mouth's the self-obvious and quite transparent driver. Hence kitten's quite very strong
One more crack, queenie, just one, and I will not only spit in your eye but I will punch it black and blue!
Seeiv ? Crack, it's all in there.v
Anyways. Dem queefs, queenie. Quit quaffing 'em.———
- What can I do for you ? Os, oris, ora pro nobis. [↩]
- It's intended to retain ; but it's very limited in its resources and therefore can be readily overpowered. [↩]
- It's a natural phenomenon, with no further significance besides that ; and if yours seems to be talking "by itself" you're just not looking closely enough / working the wrong end. [↩]
- You know exactly what I mean. [↩]
- Speaking of which, there's this Star Shiners wanna-be slutstore for old married nags, apparently. Wouldn't you make the advertising for it consist of an old retired boxer (maybe the ear chewer if he's available, even) standing proud, with a coupla indescript 20-something lanky coughars painted in that vague bronze they use for painting them, kneeling about him and reaching up towards his shoulders with their delicate long arms in statuary worship, one huge black eye on each of 'em ?
"I already told you once. Star Shiners." [↩]