PROJECT HALCYON KERNEL
DISINFECTANT POOL #1Q CONSTRUCTION
CLASSIFIED CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS
DESIGNER: William Rock
TOXICITY LEVELS: Non-Deadly (UNVERIFIED)
VERIFICATION TO FOLLOW
COST: $1.2 Million
CODE NAME: Chicxulub’s breath
OBJECTIVE: Obliteration UFO landing site + perimeter
PURPOSE: Containment, Eradication
LOCATION: Top Secret (BL)
Officer Rick, Lefty, and Chloe all stare at this place. Nobody shows any fear, just a general ‘what the fuck is this’ lingers in the air. Doctor Rock is below, in a deeper level. Up here are only three military guys in uniform. One says, “Strip and get in!”
“Now?” says Officer Rick.
“Why?” says Officer Rick.
“Authorization to speak denied.” The soldier holds the policeman’s gaze a moment. Then the soldier adds, “For protection.”
“Yours. There is nothing harmful in the pool. When you are done, follow the sign for Disinfecting Pool #2. Leave your clothes in this room. Do not take them. We will be waiting there.” The three soldiers walk away.
“What the fuck?” says Lefty.
“What the fuck is right,” says Rick. “Well, I don’t think we have much of a choice, do we?”
Chloe takes her high heels off and dips a toe into the pool. “What the fuck happened to us back there? I feel like I’m dreaming.”
Lefty looks at her. “I’ve felt like I’ve been dreaming since the moment I saw you.”
“We are in some weird ass shit,” says Officer Rick.
“Yes, we are. That’s life, isn’t it? A series of weird ass shit all the time punching you in the gut.” Lefty squeezes Chloe’s waist then yanks his t-shirt off over his head. “Well, I’m going in. Join me, baby.” He slips off his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion and splashes into the bath.
Lefty sits down with a raging hard on sticking out of the water like a shark’s fin. “I guess it’s you, baby,” he says looking down at his erection. The water feels very smooth, even slick, on his skin. It smells strongly of bleach, but that smell masks something like rotten eggs. “Smells like bleach and eggs.”
Officer Rick scratches his head for a moment then says confidently, “That’s sulfur. It’s not harmful.”
Chloe peels off her blouse, revealing a massive rack held back from taking over the room by a simple-minded bra. She unclasps the bra hook and her breasts spring out: two sentinels of everything good in the world in this weird room with a smelly bath stinking of rotten eggs.
She takes her jeans off and splashes into the pool next to Lefty. Her smooth slit throbs. There is still some weird feeling inside of her, and the cum Lefty dumped on her face earlier was completely gone. Not even a slight remnant remained. Not so much as one crusty crystal.
Rick follows them in, leaving his police uniform hanging on a hook that is butterflied into the wall. Chloe looks at Rick. He, too, has a massive hard on. When he notices, Chloe sees his surprise. A confident smile comes over his face, “I haven’t been hard like since we had our second child. I was starting to think about going to the doctor.”
Lefty looks at the police officer’s hard rock. “No doctor needed, man.”
Rick puts out his hand to Lefty, “I’m Rick. Local police officer.”
“I’m Lefty. And this is Zamilda.”
“My name’s not Zamilda,” Chloe says as she steps into the pool and dips all but her head into it.
A buzzer sounds and the pool starts to drain very fast. The lights in the room go dim and the three get out and move through a well-lit hallway where there are three robes hanging. The put on the robes and then go into another room with a second pool. Men in suits emerge from behind them to grab the clothes they’d shed. The men in HAZMAT suits and gas masks hold flame-throwers and incinerate the discarded clothes. Lefty looks at Chloe out of the corner of his eye.
In the new room, there is no smell at all. It is like the three of them popped a vacuum seal to come in. They all climb into the new pool. Two hard cocks and a throbbing clit. They can no longer resist, and Lefty gives in. He puts his hand on his cock. It is hot and hard as ever in his hand. Rick glances at Lefty who gives him a look that makes Rick, thrilled with his new hard on, grab Chloe and push her over.
Rick caresses the smooth curves of Chloe’s princess-like ass. She’s the prettiest thing he’s seen in years and he feels lust coursing through him wildly. His belly is in knots, like he needs release. All the pent-up sexual frustration of not being able to get it up, of having kids and lacking time for lovemaking, and of having this gorgeous woman naked in front of him comes to a head and he pushes his hard-on into Chloe’s soft petals.
Rick’s body trembles as he can barely stand the excitement and sensation of hard cock in wet folds.
Lefty kisses Chloe deeply, just the sensation of her tongue against him almost makes him explode, but the sensation is gone as he finds her gorgeous head in his big, rough hands. An incredible feeling eclipses him as his cockhead is tickling the back of her throat for the second time in one day. He needs to know what her other holes are like. He is about to tell Rick to switch places with him and exchange this doll’s holes, but before he can, Rick pulls out of Chloe’s delicious flaps and shoots a load of jizz towards her ass. Before it lands on her, forming ropes of jizzy string, the cream stops in mid-air and becomes a kind of levitating jelly.
Doctor Rock watches all of this on the CCTV monitor from his secret room. His jaw almost hits the floor. He cannot believe his eyes, it is so absolutely incredible. His assistant, Maria Sower, also watches it in disbelief. She says, “It must be a gaseous compound, Doctor. It’s a deposition.”
Doctor Rock counters: “It’s liquid to solid. It’s like cum freezing into silicone. I don’t know what the fuck you call this.”
On the screen they watch Lefty still pumping his cock into Chloe’s mouth. Rick’s jizz has stopped in mid-air and jellied. Lefty notices the mid-air cum for the first time.
The room gets brighter, his heart starts racing, his eyes go wide, and he taps Chloe’s head. Lefty pulls his quivering cock out of her and the giant dick goes limp. She looks from his cock to his eyes and then turns around and sees the moving jelly. It metamorphoses in front of their eyes, taking shape: a lifelike dildo.
Chloe shrieks and her voice echoes out into a hallway. She jumps out of the pool and wraps her arms around herself. The dildo hovers above the pool. It doesn’t move.
Lefty and Rick get out of the pool, too, and lead her into the hallway where her scream still echoes about. Lefty keeps his eyes on the jelly, which is changing color and expanding. Then the door to the pool room closes. Lefty hears it hermetically seal off and they are locked out. This hallway leads to another elevator.
In the elevator, none of them says a word. Water drips off their bodies to the floor. The smell of rotten eggs stays with them. They just stare straight ahead. Lefty is trying to think of something, but he realizes he is trying to think. The memory of what he saw has his brain stuck in some kind of alien replay loop. Rick is visibly trembling. He clasps his hands but they still rattle. This is more than a God-fearing police officer can take in a day.
Lefty looks at Chloe, trying to understand. He has heard some strange stories about some weird women, but this is crazier. This is the craziest shit ever. Chloe’s upper lip trembles and she rubs her temple while biting her bottom lip with her two front teeth. “That’s not fucking normal! What the fuck?” She nearly yells, tears streaming down her eyes. “What the fuck was that?”
READ MORE of Attack of the Replicating Alien Dildos
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#FairyTale #SpankingRomance #Menage #BDSMRomance #EroticRomance #Fantasy
What if the fairy tale is real?
We all remember the story of Goldilocks, the young woman who stumbles across the three bears’ humble abode while wandering through the woods. You’d always thought the story was make-believe, designed to entertain small children, but what if I told you that you were wrong?
Goldie Locks is very real, a spoiled young woman living in a bubble of her father’s wealth and indulgence. It is this Goldie who makes her way into the forest, losing her way and eventually seeking sanctuary in the small cottage she finds there. But little does Goldie know who really lives in the deep, dark woods and what they will do when they find her asleep in their home…
In this intensely erotic tale, beautiful, headstrong Goldie is left blushing crimson as she is sternly punished and thoroughly claimed by the three strict, ruggedly handsome owners of the cottage in which she foolishly dared to trespass. To Goldie’s surprise, the bold dominance of her captors arouses her deeply, but will she run for her life when their shocking secret is finally revealed?
Note: Goldie’s Surrender includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, get the fuck off this site and don’t buy the book. What the hell were you doing here?
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Teaser 1 – Featuring Spanking
“Why are you being spanked, little fawn?” Logan’s voice rings out from above me.
“I was selfish and reckless, sir,” I reply, repeating his earlier words back to him, and praying inwardly that they will suffice.
“Correct,” he answers me, just before the third swat strikes me. I feel the sting as it lands, warming the area in that dull ache I remember. “You will never. Ever. Put. Yourself. In. Danger. Again!” He accentuates each word with a new spank to my helpless backside, and I yelp, squirming at the sudden ferociousness of the onslaught.
“Are we clear, little fawn?” Logan roars from over me.
I pant in response, the arousal and embarrassment burgeoning inside of me. “Yes, sir,” I gasp. “I’m sorry.”
“Not yet,” he tells me as he spanks me again. “But you will be, Goldie. We are going to do what your Daddy should have done years ago. You will be punished soundly until you are contrite, and then you will be loved and comforted.”
Teaser 2 – A little more hardcore
For a moment we are barely an inch from each other, and then – in a heartbeat – he is on me. We land on the bed together, our limbs knotting briefly before his powerful legs move between mine, spreading them wide apart. What just happened, I wonder? One moment I was empowered, devouring his beautiful cock, and the next I am flat on my back with this giant between my legs.
“Now I have you, little girl,” he teases me.
I scowl at him, slapping his strong right tricep playfully. “Don’t call me girl,” I complain. “I hate that!”
He lowers his face towards me, the muscles of his arms taking the strain without complaint. “I know you do,” he replies with a smirk. “That’s why I say it!”
He is so close to me now that I can barely even take a breath. I am pinioned by his imposing, powerful body, yet it is the weight of his stare which seems to paralyse me.
“I am not, and never will be, your girl…” My voice is raspy, and my desire plain to hear, but still I continue with my snarky attitude.
“You’ll be whatever I tell you to be,” he says with a grin.
About the author
Felicity Brandon is a #1 international bestseller of erotic spanking romance. She’s been reading and writing for many years, and loves to delve into the psychological intensity of sexual submission. She has written erotic titles in contemporary, historical and fantasy genres.
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Romance with the Alpha Male Billionaire
Romance on Roller-skates (Humor with Interracial Asian MILF)
That Fucker Part 2
Copyright © 2016 by Emme Hor
Heather had her hair up in two pigtails dripping with cuteness. She wore sexy sunglasses with a purple tint. Her lips were stained bloody red thanks to the lollipop she was sucking on lewdly. Her white blouse was too small for her. Her tits popped out of it. Her ass cheeks were out every time her short black skirt caught the wind. Her heart panties were the only thing blocking a straight shot at seeing her slit and her asshole. The folds of her pretty ass cheeks, the actual juicy yellow meat, were there for all to see. Her long legs were smooth, tan, and sexy as hell in her white roller skates with pink wheels. She spun around and sucked on her lollipop and skated past the fountains of the KLCC toward As Syakirin Mosque. She would skate by all the devout Muslims, head in their mats, chanting, waving at the Imam as he sang the prayer, she would sing the song of her hot ass and skate down the hot pavement while the smell of rubber trees hung in the air.
Heather was the pure vision of smut. She was smut. Many Malay girls were smut. All that sexual repression led to one thing, sexual obsession.
Heather was together for months now with Charlie the Wok. Ever since she had broken free of That Fucker, her old psycho, alpha male, white Anglo Saxon asshole protestant boyfriend (WASAPB), she was unplugged of him and plugged into Charlie the Wok.
Why did they call him the Wok? He just had this greasy way about him, like he was deep fried. The poor bastard wasn’t even fat. He wasn’t a bean pole either. He was what the Korean ladies called greasy, what the Western women called cheesy.
Heather knew that Charlie loved her. I mean, hell. He’d pulled out a butt plug that another guy stuffed up her ass. He showed this butt-plug altruism before they were even fucking. That’s a nice guy. How many guys have pulled a butt plug out of your ass that he didn’t jam in there himself? Huh? That’s right, none.
Anyway, Heather skated (butt-plug free) toward the beautiful As-Syakirin Mosque. She passed the mosque, her skirt blowing up in the breeze like she were an Asian Marilyn Monroe, oops, that shouldn’t have happened. Didn’t mean to flash you my pink heart panties while roller-skating by, gentleman. Over 11,000 worshipers got a glimpse of hot Asian camel toe when they looked up from their prayers to see what that roller-skate on concrete sound was. A few devout worshippers kept their reverent heads to the ground and missed the glimpse of young pussy. Heather wasn’t interested in the mosque other than to give the pious a little flash. She was really thinking of going to the Citibank Headquarters nearby. That’s where that fucker worked. She wanted to strut, flaunt, and make the asshole miss her tight little bootylicious loveliness.
She skated on down the sidewalk, past the palm trees blowing in the gentle breeze and made her way to the massive skyscraper that was the Citibank Building. She knew that fucker would come out soon for lunch and simply skated back and forth on the wide corporate sidewalk. She was a great skater. She performed. She lifted her leg up and grabbed it to her chest and spun. She did twirls and jumps and waved her hands like she was a swan about to take off. Sure enough people stopped and watched. That fucker came out and she saw him and was filled with joy that she was being ogled lustily by all those office workers while he was powerless to have her. He didn’t show his frustrations, if he had any, he just watched her, the confident bastard that he was. She had to admit, white guys just had something that the Malays didn’t. At least over her. I mean what was she doing here anyway? She completed her spin and then made her way to the residential Damansara Heights district of the city and sat down for some fried rice with little fish on top with her Mama.
Heather’s Mama was an Asian MILF. She was bustier than Heather and equally bootylicious. Heather knew her mother was hot. When they walked down the street together they both got stared at but the Mama got looked at harder, dirtier, with the more lustful eyes. The men that wanted to fuck, looked at the Mama. Maybe it was her huge tits. Maybe it was she just smelled of sex. She literally have off and animalistic musk scent. Everyone noticed and said something. Heather’s dad was long gone and then left this single Asian MILF able to fuck whoever she pleased whenever.
“Leave that fucker alone,” Mama said to Heather. “You have a decent man now. Why can’t you be happy? So he’s a little greasy. So what?”
“I just can’t. I’m in some kind of haze. I want that fucker to know he’s lost me.”
“If you want him to know anything then he hasn’t lost you at all and he’ll know that, won’t he, ah?”
“Charlie is just too nice. I need a little challenge,” Heather admitted.
“Fried rice is greasy and everyone loves it.”
“I don’t want to date rice, Mama.” Heather took a last bite of her fried rice and brought the dish to the sink. “I’ve got to go back to work, Mama.”
For months Heather skated by Citibank Headquarters in sexy outfits and put on show. She didn’t do this every day, but she never missed a week without at least one roller-sexy-flash-panties show. That was her thing.
Charlie knew but thought it best to let this obsession run its course. He knew that his girlfriend had been scarred by that fucker. Hell, he was the guy that pulled the butt plug out of her ass that day and then took her home and made her his. He had been infatuated with her since she joined their office. She was the perfect woman, in his eyes, so he hoped that her hurt would wear off and she would be all his. He knew that she was still in some kind of rebound dance. He wanted the real Heather. Not the ambassador to Heather. He would just have to be patient.
Even though Heather was not totally Charlie’s emotionally, she was his physically and he loved it. Heather was the best he’d ever had in the sack. She was beautiful, tall, and sexy. She was submissive in bed and willing to do anything. The first time they made love he put his cock in her ass. She was the first girl that he’d ever introduced his cock to her ass before her pussy. It was an omen of how open she would be in the bedroom. She was pliable, flexible, and sluttable. It was fantastic!
As the months wore on the sex didn’t decrease much. Each weekend they still made love a lot. They spent all Saturday lying in bed making love. The only breaks were to eat and watch a little TV. On Sunday, Charlie thought it would be best if they got out of the house and little bit.
“Let’s get some exercise,” he said. “The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful day in KL again.”
That was his joke. Kuala Lumpur had consistently beautiful weather unless it was Monsoon Season. So his phrase was incredibly obvious and annoying but Charlie thought it was whimsical. Heather rolled her eyes but she did like skating so she was game.
The weather was fucking stupendous. It was sunny and hot but not stifling. The development of the capital was awesome with its tourist-packed monorails, skyscrapers, and towers. Although the modernization was pronounced, KL kept the old Victorian charm of the English imperialists. Yes, there’s charm in imperialism. Yes there is. Opium, gangbangs, pewter, and Victorian homes. That was what the British gave Malaysia.
The rest of this unbelievable city was built by the Chinese. Today, it was shared by Malays, Indians, Chinese, and Westerners. Heather, a Chindian-Malay, was mixed with everything but white, and maybe that’s why she had a thing for big, white dick. To be fair, some of these other races had big dicks, but she gravitated to the cruelty that only a white guy could provide her. Charlie the Wok was white, but didn’t possess that ubiquitous dominance. That Fucker did!
As they skated down a big hill toward KL’s Bukit Bintang downtown, she compared the two men in her head. That fucker wore a crisp white starched shirt. Charlie’s shirt was untucked. That Fucker had his brown hair parted and neat. Charlie’s was shaved close to his scalp, like he was an American GI. That Fucker was always clean shaven. Charlie was shadowed with two or three day old growth at all times. That fucker grabbed her by the hair when she went down on him, Charlie let her swallow his dick at her own pace. That fucker slapped her thick pussy lips and even pulled on them, Charlie nibbled gently on her clit and even tongued her asshole.
God I needed that fucker to pound me senseless one more time, to beat me with his massive white dick. Charlie’s wasn’t small, but that fucker’s cock was a beast and Heather wanted it in her pussy stretching her out deliciously. She wanted to suck his dick cutely while he tortured her nipples mercilessly.
Heather and Charlie came down the big hill at high speeds. There was a median and then the road forked. Charlie wanted to go right and veer off to the river, but Heather went ahead and veered towards downtown. The medium came up on them so quickly that Heather and Charlie got separated.
Heather shot into downtown at blistering speeds. If she could skate like this on roller-skates she could probably win a gold medal on ice skates. She was a blur of sexy.
That fucker was downtown waiting for her. He just knew she’d come. When he saw her speeding towards him he enjoyed the way she exaggerated her form, it made her ass look so full and bulbous, her legs looked so long and smooth, her breasts never looked bigger. That fucker thought that Indonesian girls, as he called all Malays, even Chindians, had big, fat asses. They had the thick of Muslim with the slender waist of a Chinese chick, he thought. Heaven. He watched Heather roll and licked his chops.
She was going too fast and he thought that she would fall. If she did, he would pounce.
Charlie meanwhile was on the quiet path besides the river thinking if he should turn around to get Heather or not. Surely, she would spin around and join him. Right?
Heather was speeding on the sidewalk, the sound of roller skates rolling over pavement loud in her ears while cars beeped, stared, sped up to follow her hot ass, and generally became mesmerized by the hot Asian chick in heart panties underneath yoga pants flying through the streets. She was the center of attention again and we knew it and she basked in it. She closed her eyes to feel her own sexiness. It was immaculate. She felt like a goddess. That’s when she hit the log lying across the road (only in Malaysia) at full speed and flipped over. She landed horribly with her head on the ground, her ass up on the log, her skates up over her head, wheels still spinning. As planned, that fucker, seized the moment. He appeared, with the blue sky and pristine white clouds enveloping him. He was the devil. Her devil. He was handsome and evil. He towered over her and in the background his company’s headquarters towered over him. She felt tiny.
Heather was bound by pain and surprise. He grabbed her yoga pants and panties and yanked them down in one motion. Her little rosebud was right there, puckered. It was expanding and contracting as Heather tried to catch her breath.
“Help me,” she muttered, but with the wind knocked out of her, there was little actual word that made it out. There was no air to engage her voice box.
In fact, her asshole was breathing better than her lungs. It was opening and closing, cutely.
The asshole was well lubricated with sweat and the morning’s moisturizer and already stretched partly open from the compromising position. That fucker could see the wrinkled rim of her asshole, it was perfectly symmetrical and had little geometrical lines from anus to butt cheek. It was a work of art that Picasso should have been painting. That fucker wanted to set up and easel and archive it for the MOMA but he wanted even more to take the massive black butt plug from his bag and jam it into Heather’s asshole. Heather saw the plug in his hand, with sunrays pouring out around it, since he held it in a way that cast a shadow on Heather’s pretty face and blocked the sun from her eyes. It was like the sun was a butt-plug from her vantage point. Just as she realized it was a beautiful sight, she then felt the giant solar plug destroy her anus.
It was like all of Kuala Lumpur was Heather’s asshole. Her soft tissue, the gatekeeper between external and internal stretched out like a balloon filled with helium. First it filled out for the plug, then the street, then Bukit Bintang, then KL, then Malaysia, then all of Asia, then the Earth and on and on until all of heaven and earth, space and time was asshole swallowing butt plug. The swell of her ego getting ogled by all those guys as she skated was now the swell of her asshole as it was the asshole of Malaysia, plugged and at the mercy of one mean motherfucking man. Her ex-boyfriend, that fucker.
That fucker had plugged her again. The handsome devil looked down on her from what appeared to be the clouds, smiling.
“You’re the devil,” she muttered.
“Ah, good, you’re getting your voice back.” He said. “All the better for me to hear you scream!” He lowered his pants and guided his cock, the big white dick she knew too well, the one she had been secretly yearning for for months, and jammed it right into her cunt.
“You’re always so tight when your ass is plugged,” he said as he started jackhammering down into her Chindian-Malay cunt.
Heather felt it, the plug expanded the walls of her rectum. The space that his cock wanted to occupy inside her was taken. Plugged. Heather was tall but not so thick and that fucker’s big cock and the plug were competing for the same pillowy real estate inside her honey-luscious cunt. Where cock wanted to go was taken by plug. The plug was creating the pussy of a virgin, even though Heather was nothing innocent. She was on her back, in a little office plaza cul-de-sac where she had wiped out and been forced to take her ex’s big, mean cock until his ball sack hammered the plug up her ass until it literally could go in no more (unless hospitalization was an option).
That fucker held her hips and pumped away while the big, black butt plug gripped her tight vaginal walls and massaged the underbelly of his thick white shaft until he was on the brink of cumming. He pulled his massive mushroom-headed club out of her cute quivering cunt, brought her leg toward him, kissed her juicy calve in cruel juxtaposition of abuse and love that sent her heart fluttering, and pushed her rollerbladed-foot to his dick. He rubbed the shaft of his cock on the wheels and moaned.
“You’re sick,” Heather said as he let her skates jerk him off. Her thick pussy lips were hanging out of her, begging for his cock to come back.
“I know,” he said. “And you fucking love every minute of it. Look at your fat cunt lips flapping in the wind desperately, whore!”
He pulled on her cunt lips roughly and let them smack back into her pubic skin with a pop. Heather felt like she was smacked with a glove.
When that delicious fucker pushed his victorious dick back into her throbbing pussy, it was utter nirvana for her. Heather saw the sun dim. She saw stars shoot. She felt like the sexiest roller-skater in the universe. There was that nasty feeling of being an utter slut mixed with the guilty pleasure of fucking an ex. It was a fantastic orgasm that shuttered down her spine and into her lips. Her voice came back and she screamed her own name, “Heather!” like she was reprimanding herself for being such a dirty little butt-plugged tramp. She pulled his dick deeper with her Kegel muscles and by lifting her hips. That fucker couldn’t take anymore. It was like fucking quicksand. Her muscles held him so tight he felt like his dick would rip off from the root. He stepped back and his cock popped out of her cunt. He stood over her and hosed her face down with his cum. She lapped some of it up savoring the taste of his superior cum on her tongue as he collapsed onto the log on his back. Most of his cum dripped from her flush cheeks, sexy chin, and full lips.
“You know, I thought you owned me, but look at you,” Heather said. Heather flipped herself up onto her skates adroitly, leaned down and kissed him victoriously on the lips. Now she was looking down at him, her long hair cascading down onto his chest with sunrays exploding geometrically out of her hair. She was gorgeous and she knew it. She kissed him, lips to lips and the cum transferred from her cummy lips to his. She wiggled her head and smeared his cum all over her face triumphantly.
She stood up and realized she still had jizz on her face. She leaned down and rubbed the leftover splooge on his shirt. She pulled up her yoga pants. Her ass was amazing, as was Heather’s entire body. She skated backwards slowly.
“What about the butt plug?” That fucker asked.
“I need it for something,” Heather said while picking up speed skating backwards.
Heather skated back to Charlie and the river while sunshine emanated from her crotch in psychedelic swirls. As she skated the movement of her legs massaged the plug incredibly. Her cunt was satisfied and now she was on the brink of an anal orgasm.
She found Charlie sitting on a bench at the bank of the Klang River staring into the muddy water.
“There you are, baby,” he said. He smiled.
She skated to him, pirouetted to a stop, and whispered in his ear, “Fuck my ass right now, right here.”
He looked around quick and felt like she was crazy but also knew there was no reasoning with a horny Malay with a juicy ass. She rolled in front of him and wiggled her stuffed ass like a sexy duck. Charlie pulled down her yoga pants smoothly and saw the plug jammed deep up her ass.
“Yes, it was amazing! Punish me now! Punish my ass!”
Charlie felt this nervous energy grip him by the gut. He gawked at his girl’s ass with another butt plug stuffed in it undeniably. He wasn’t so gentle with her this time. He got a firm hold of the base of the big, black butt plug and ripped it out of her ass.
Heather screamed. Her ass gaped like all of KL had been stuffed inside of it.
“Punish me,” she said breathlessly, “Make me pay for cuckolding you with that fucker.”
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Lay on top of her and romantically kiss the back of her neck
You climb on top of her. “That feels so good honey. Gosh darn. If I wasn’t Allah’s honorable disciple I would let you ravage my pussy baby, but it’s best this way, it more romantic.” She really emphasized the word romantic disgustingly. “I could rape your ass at any time, hun. But I love you too much.” She giggled lovingly. You weren’t prudes. I mean, fuck. You were smart but just didn’t trust this world. You were different. You were raised in a different culture that demanded temperance. You were human and all sexed up and mostly expressed it through talking about it. You placed yourself so your dick was up her but crack, but you had on tighty whities and G-strung had on a g-string so you were all heavenly pure in that religious fanaticism kind of way that made your dick ultra-spiritually hard. Shit. You fit in G-strung’s crack perfectly and your pressure on her soft bulbous hardness felt insanely great. You could bake jizz cookies in her cunt oven you were so in love with her, but you would wait until it was god’s gracious goodness to gloriously, appropriately, and legally anally bake her chocolate cunt cookies. Instead of using your dick as a paddle in her cutely inappropriate cunt hole, you pressed your chest down onto her back without pushing too much weight onto her demure top half (how did this delicate torso hang onto that bad-ass booty of a bottom half, it was mathematically improbable), and buried your lips in her weave spread out over the nape of her neck like Hokkien noodles and kissed her tenderly until the hairs on her neck stood up. “Oh, honey, I love you. When we are married I will use my pussy like a washing machine over your cock. You’ll see. It will be the Kama Sutra’s Helicopter over the Congress of the Cow with a side of Splitting the Bamboo for you, baby.” You leaned forward and found her lips. You brushed some of her thick hair off her face and your tongues met and you French-kissed deeply. You were so on the verge of cumming. You could feel her engorged clit through the fabric between you. It was pulsing, trembling, a small sexual earthquake. She was humping the floor. You could just jizz so easily you thought of other things. You thought of pi, then of dirty toilets in the old train. Your orgasm subsided a tick, but it was still right there on the precipice. She climbed your tongue with an intense suction until she hung from the back of it, in your mouth, breathlessly. Then her hips stiffened. She went dead like a fish after it’s all flapped out. You increased the pressure of your cock in its undies in her ass crack and that released the cum-kracken. You spurted down her ass crack (in undies, of course. Safety first). “You’re the best,” she said and rocked until you fell off to the side of her and nuzzled up into her smelling her cocoa and coconut funk butter until you drifted off to sleep.
Unfortunately, not getting dick in pussy was making you go a bit mad. You couldn’t continue like this. You loved her but you needed sex. It was a biological fact. The more you thought about it the more you justified it to yourself. As you walked around town, every hot chick you saw was further proof that you would get yourself some ass by hook or by crook. You decided that she must feel the same way. In fact…
Choose your own SEXcapade © 2015 by Moctezuma Johnson
Gallery of Delicous, Uncut Smutpunk Covers (you’ll never find these on major retailers)
Below is TEASER from the Gallery of Various Smutpunk Art from this site from 2015-2017. Browse through it as you wish and click to enlarge smaller images. Some of the covers are really precious but thanks to our conservative society cannot be shared in public places like facebook, amazon, and pinterest. So I ask that you join me in the exclusive VIP Smutpunk club where thankfully this site allows you the freedom and trust to see and read what you want 100% uncut. In the VIP Smutpunk club you can let your dick and/or tits hang out, smoke a joint or rolled unicorn spit for all I care, and touch yourself until you squirt bubbling pink hearts through the ceiling. I hope you feel at home. Enjoy!
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Hot Fireman – Requested by Dino-Sore Story that doesn’t yet exist. Our time loop sequencer is busted. My men are on it.
I’m sorry. I’m told I was mistaken. It does exist and, in fact, here’s the link to get yours if you don’t already have it.
Overheard on the Bus in Flint and again in San Francisco (you know just to refresh your memory)
Female Reader 1: Why do I have to read more dino porn?
Female Reader 2: I know, right? Give me Ripped Firemen.
Female Reader 1: Or RIPPED FIREMEN.
Female Reader 2: or ripped firemen!
And these are your Smutpunk Fireman
Read the SMUTPUNK COLLAB featuring Dino-Sore from where this post emanated.
The Japanese Love Doll Deal | an excerpt
Subtitle: A bizarre twist of fate on CyberMonday
This is the story of Thomas an ordinary chap somewhere in the heartland of America, you know a place I’ve never been to as I hug the liberal coasts when I do venture into the US but never mind me and my magical ways, let’s stick to young Thomas, trying to get ahead in life, to climb the corporate ladder and find himself a good woman with whom he can settle down and make babies.
Thomas was always a weird child way more into his toys than his peers. He was happy sticking to himself. This life needed money to survive so he had to interact with other humans, but that prospect didn’t thrill him and he did his best to ignore most human interaction. Thomas had blonde hair that he wore neatly parted to expose his face. His black glasses partially hid his sparkling blue eyes. His nose was pretty small like a child’s but then he had light facial hair that gave his cute baby face a more rugged, sexy look. He was not a bad looking guy if he would just take off his glasses. He was working selling insurance, a thankless job. Most people who he spoke with were furious at him and his company, but there was really nothing he could do to help. He wanted to help people but his hands were really untied. He came home to his messy little apartment and plopped down on the couch. He held his last beer can protectively. It was the only good thing on this Monday evening, the first Monday since the Thanksgiving Holiday. He popped the beer can open and it exploded all over him. “Goddamnit,” he said. He wasn’t mad about getting beer on him, he was mad that he wasted nearly all of his last beer. He checked his wallet and found a folded $1 bill. That wouldn’t get more beer. He turned on the TV and his favorite sports team The Old York Stinkies were getting pummeled 17-3. He flipped through the channels but there was nothing good on. Just advertisements for internet shopping and this new “Cyber Monday” stuff. Thomas got out his laptop and jumped on the internet, hoping something exciting would catch his eye. It was as bad as staring into the fridge when hungry and lazy: nothing appealed to him.
He ended up searching porn but that bored him. How many times could he watch a white girl with her teeth gritted yelling, “fuck me fuck me fuck me?” Porn was so predictable and criminally un-creative. Where was the fun? He searched “sex toy shops” and then “dick-lengthening pills.” After jumping from one page to another, Thomas found himself on a new site. This one was selling very expensive dolls. Each doll was handcrafted “by god himself” and the prices were in the ten thousand to one hundred thousand dollar range. The site featured hundreds of exquisite photos of the dolls. They were seen sitting at the dinner table in fine clothes, posed on the couch, leaning out the window, in corporate casual at the boardroom table, and in the bedroom. They were each beautiful as a supermodel, with high cheekbones, full lips, and incredible bodies. They weren’t quite the bodies of bimbos (no GG tits or anything), but they were very sexy with great curves.
Thomas was blown away.
They were so unique, so beautiful, and they stirred something sexually inside of him. The url was from a japanese love doll site. He checked his wallet again. He just had the dollar, but he did have plastic. He could whip out his credit card and purchase one of these lovely dolls. He couldn’t. The one he liked was twenty-seven thousand dollars. That was more than a car! For a doll. They were exquisite, classy, well-dressed, beautiful, sexy, inviting, but he just couldn’t. It was crazy. He thought of Larissa in his office. She was wonderful. She was like a doll to Thomas. He had finally gathered up the gumption to go up to her while she was eating salmon in the cafeteria and while holding his coffee he said what he’d practiced a thousand times, “Larissa, I was wondering if you have dinner plans tonight. I really admire you. I’d love to get to know you more.” Thomas was surprised it had come out so cogently. He was deathly afraid that he would trip all over his words as he usually did in front of a woman but practice makes perfect and that came out really perfectly. It didn’t matter. Jim, the managing broker stepped right in and put his hands on her shoulders and said, “She has plans. Plans to be at her knees in front of me.” He burst out into racaous, inappropriate laughter. Larissa blushed a little but wasn’t the type to buck the trend. She stayed complicit in his bragging of her as his sex toy and Thomas noticed she was wearing a choker that had a little hook to clasp to a leash. He shook his head like the thought was paining him and said, “Nevermind. Forget I asked, and stormed out of the room while Jim and a few of his cronies had a good laugh at Thomas’s expense and Larissa’s expense.
He clicked BUY.
It only took a few minutes to put in the requests he had: long black hair, a large C-cup, thick booty, full ruby red lips. He chose her clothes. He put in his address and credit card info and clicked confirm. Then he plopped back down on the couch, drank the two fingers of warm beer that hadn’t spilled and passed out on the couch.
Thomas woke up trembling to the sound of the doorbell. He shook off the cobwebs. He stood up, shakily, and went to the front door. When he opened it, it was pitch black out and really he should have checked out the window first. This was a great way to get robbed and murdered. This was why so many Americans carried guns, Thomas thought. He was so sleepy he’d be liable to shoot just about anyone, including himself, in this state. He blinked a few times and checked his watch. It was 3 a.m. There was a large box on his stoop. He grabbed it to lift it but it was heavy. He got a better grip and lifted it up. It had to be about 100 lbs. As he walked in the house with the box the weight in the box shifted. He put it down with a loud grunt and remained crouched. He stared at the box. He hadn’t grunted. The box moved and he jumped up to his feet and stepped back. “Oh my god!” he said.
The flaps to the box opened. It was like there was a cat in the box, it was moving on its own. It was a cat in some manner, the dirtiest, of the word. A tall, beautiful woman rose slowly out of the box. She had high cheekbones like a supermodel. Her long black hair was pulled back in a gorgeous pony tail. Her lips were painted red and full and juicy. She was wearing a sexy green tank top and jeans (the very outfit Thomas had picked on the internet). Her tits sure looked like the large C cup that he had requested. This girl was real and she was spectacular. Thomas stuttered, “My my my, you you you’re…”
“Thirsty. Can I have a glass of water?” She spoke in a Japanese accent.
“Sure sure,” Thomas said. He went to the fridge where he kept tap water cold and took out the bottle of water. The water sloshed around since his hands were shaking. Then he got a cup from the cupboard and poured water for her. It splashed all around and some landed on the counter. “Ice?”
(Continue reading this Cyber Monday Love Doll Story)
Teacher Student Erotica: Jess and the Professor
Jess was his student. He watched her and marveled at her. He was the teacher, the professor, and he was respected. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so much acedemic admiration for his big brain as physical admiration for his big bulge, his big muscles, and his big smile. These girls were little giggling hyenas. Yes, they were university students, but here in the Far East that often meant that their bodies were more mature than their minds. Jess was one of these girls. She had a pretty face and was dressed like a sailor. She gave him a key-chain for Ppeppero day, the chocolate covered sticks day, that said I love you. He motioned for her to lean back on the desk. She was dubious, but she consented. Asian culture had taught her to respect authority and look up to teachers. Butterflies flapped in her gut, sweat formed on her palms, a faucet leaked into her panties, and she smiled uncontrollably as he taped a piece of paper over the tiny window on the classroom door. She was a virgin and had that nervous energy that virgins in the Far East have. Some people hated it, but he was into it and asked her to lift up her shirt and lean back.
He thought he knew what pink was, but he was wrong. Her breasts hung out. They were made of the softest white porcelain skin that he had ever seen. He had dreamed of Princess Chuckhole and these breasts must have been molded out of the same stardust as the princess’s tits. Dead center of each incredible mountain of flesh, for gravity had not played its cruel tricks on this young virgin’s tits just yet, was a perfect bulls-eye made out of a color he’d never seen before. It was the color of unfettered freedom. It was the color of the triumph of good over evil. It was the color of post-coital sleep. It was pink, and beige, and black, and white all rolled into pink. Not glitzy, glittery pink that girls paint on their sparkly lips. Real pink. The color of pussy. The color of love. The color of the inside of your esophagus and the inner workings of cosmic gears.
When his tongue accepted one of her pink little buttons, like candy off wax paper, sparks flew. They both could hear the sizzle of their attraction. He cupped the outsides of her breasts and squeezed them together and admired them. “They are amazing.”
She looked at the floor. “Do you like them?” Her cheeks were rosy.
“I adore them, Jess,” he pushed her onto her back on the desk. Her saddle shoes clipped the whiteboard shelf and knocked a few markers and erasers to the ground. His cock slid right in between her beautiful mounds. It was hot on her skin.
The penis wasn’t cold and snakelike how she had imagined. “I had no idea they were this hot.” She covered her mouth and giggled at what she had said.
He removed her hand. “Don’t cover your mouth. Your mouth is beautiful.” Her big eyes looked up at him and blinked. He stared at her kindly. Then he squeezed both of her breasts around his cock and glided in and out. She watched his face. His eyes rolled, the corners of his eyes wrinkled. If her perfect pink nipples were eyes then he made great eye-contact because his pupils locked on her tits.
She wasn’t sure what he was doing, where his cock would go next. Between her legs a wet fire was brewing. Everything was a new feeling and it was all so exciting. She was so happy to be on her back for her professor.
A new hot sensation hit under her chin. She craned down and saw white, thick cream spewing out of his cock and between her tit-flesh. “it feels so good. Hot. Does it feel good fpr you?”
“Mmmmnm, yes,” he said as he used her mountains of flesh to milk the last drops out of his hot viscous liquid onto her. She enjoyed getting him on her. She could smell it. It was a clean smell. Like life itself. Before she could ruminate on the smell of his cum, she reacted to its taste. He had scooped the cum off of her tots and onto his hand and was now feeding it to her. It was briny and clean. Like drinking sea-water.
After she had cleaned up every drop of him, she pulled to her feet and pulled her bra back on, her blouse back down, and said, “Now what?”
He looked at her and smiled, clearly indicating that was it for today. “Perfect. Next class I can teach you something new if you’d like.”
“I would like that, teacher,” she said. She giggled and started to cover her mouth. Then she made eye-contact with him and stopped her hand in mid-air. This made her giggle more. She shifted her weight from foot to foot then bit her lip. He reached out and patted her head like she was his pet. “See you tomorrow, Jess,” he said.
She walked out the door.
He removed the paper from the over the window on the classroom door. He watched her skirt ruffle as she walked. He plopped in his comfy leather chair and placed both hands behind his head. He put his feet up on his desk and thought, it wasn’t a bad life when you could titty-fuck your student’s perfect rack right after class.
Read more Asian Erotica by Moctezuma Johnson
Check out my future episodes:
Jess tethered under the desk
Jess blows another teacher while he fucks her
Jess Licks his ass
The Professor pops her cherry
The Professor pops her anal cherry