BBW Korean needs dick hard up the speculative ass
BBW Korean needs her abstract hair pulled moot
BBW Korean cornflower needs to be yanked down to her knees
BBW Korean needs my crestfallen hand on her coarse throat when she cums second rate
BBW Korean needs…
…her duck lips turned into dick lips
…her face smushed into my gross balls where she can tongue down and lick my hairy ass
…to lick up my pelt cum from the indecent floor while I stuff her inferior ass
…her own post on my firm website where I can show the slut off to the knotty world
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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I want my BF to Facefuck me!
Believe it or not, ladies and gents, “I Want my BF to Facefuck Me!” is a very common search term that I get here at moctezumajohnson.com. I guess many women want to be grabbed and abused. I have only had a handful of women ask me to facefuck them. Many will let me facefuck but I think it’s fairly uncommon to desire that. I do get it though. Women are attracted powerful men who take whatever it is they want, so why not esophagus conquerers? Why not, indeed.
We all know that my wife is a big fucking whore. Well, if you didn’t know you know. I mean, if her husband says she’s a slut, she’s a fucking slut. Usually husbands tell you their wives aren’t whores, you know just to protect her, even if she’s sucking dicks left, right, and center. So if a husband mentions his wife is a whore, believe him.
Read about how my wife is a total whore. It features her and two strapping alpha males having their way with her while I watch and enjoy:
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my wife is a whore
my wife is a whore
Dear SmutStreet Punkies!
That name was ingeniously given by Genevieve. I had to give props for her naming genius. Thanks, G. I’m attaching some promotional material for you all to tweet, FB post, Pin, slide into your DMs, and variously share share share. Those of you with blogs, I’d love if you can post on your blog. My site will notify of the ping so I can start cross promoting asap. That’s probably the most win-win for any of us, but any support is greatly appreciated. This book was #1 in three free categories yesterday (that was in late September – I have no idea why I didn’t publish this post earlier. Stupid day job!). Thank you for all the support to make that happen. You all rock! Now Iet’s try to get its paid ranking up high. I’m attaching some text (with links embedded) and some images. My suggestion is to choose one image that you like and use that one, but of course you’re welcome to use any.
Thanks for all the love and support. SmutStreet is so Punk!
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I’d like to share a new Futa Boxing Science-Fiction & Fantasy Erotica book that I think you’ll love. As Tamara McLanahan says, “This book will show you why Moctezuma Johnson wears the Smutpunk Crown.”
“This Magic Jump Rope Heals All Ills”
The jump rope is fraying. With Minae’s marriage on the rocks, the rope is the only thing that can save her. She and the keepers of the rope band together and encounter characters and obstacles that will test Minae’s character, resolve, and desire.
Is all this trouble worth it to save a marriage? Probably not, but Minae’s finds out the safety of planet Earth is on the line. In a race against time, Minae must rely on dubious allies and former enemies to save the Magic Rope from a once in a lifetime catastrophic futanaria event. Can she suck it up and deal? She’s going to have to.
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