Great Reviews in for Choose Your Own Kink SEXcapade
The greatest readers in the world have been reviewing my books. Aren’t I lucky?
I suggest you read Chris N.’s new review. I’m thrilled that I have 10 reviews with such high marks. Usually, some people don’t get smutpunk and smack a 1-star review with no content on it. Something like, “stinks” or “What to even do I call that?” or some other non-literary gibberish. I am all for getting low marks if the review is well thought out. Then I find it constructive and it makes me want to write better. When somebody just writes “stupid” like some dipshit customer wrote on Callie Press’s Butterface there’s nothing to be culled from the review.
So, I’m pleased to let you know that Choose Your Own Kink SEXcapade netted two reviews last week and I hope you take a look at the full list on Amazon. I’ve included a few as an image header to give you a taste.
Enjoy this SMUTPUNK Erotica Giveaway Event
And Get Punk’d Spunkyliciously
13. SURPRISE ENTRY
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No matter what you chose, you end up with the same basic conclusion. Life is hard and relationships never really work out. The only sensible thing to do is to buy a house in a mountain and not interact with another soul until you wither away and die and get eaten by your cats. But inevitably we try to get along with others, perhaps a husband or a wife or a family member and we end up fighting and not possessing the courage to really make any of this shit work. These are the breaks. So we SMUTPUNK. Cause united we stand, and unSMUTPUNK’d we fall.
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Get up in there and bury your cock up her ass and fuck her senseless
See the thing about black ass that’s so special is that even though it took intense, skin stretching growth spurts to build the foundation of the black ass the color of the skin hides most of the veins and stretch marks. They are there but they aren’t ass obvious as on a white girl’s ass. Also, like the Chinese ass, the dark ass is solid. Once cock is up that tight hole the rest of the ass cheek is rock hard. It doesn’t flap around loosely like some kite on windy beach, it holds its position like a guard outside Buckingham palace.
Once inside G-strung’s ass, you fuck hard and your body bangs against hers. Her ass ripples, ever so slightly while your balls smash against her empty cunt lips.
You’ve never had a black ass before. You’ve always had white ass. You’re not a racist. You just haven’t had a chance to get around much. You’ve always been the type to kind of stick to yourself. You went to parties. You had black friends. You knew lots of white girls with black boyfriends and husbands, but you just never dipped your stick in chocolate pussy. You’re not sure how it happened. But here she G-strung was ass up and face down looking absolutely scrumptious and you would be a fool not to partake in a little black booty. You could choose her cunt or her ass or take a dip in each. You climbed on top of her and it was nothing like sliding easily onto your wife’s mushy body. This was like climbing Everest. It took effort. It took an oxygen pack to scale this great big black ass. It had to be 4.5 kilometers up into the sky. Once you were up there, you already felt like you had accomplished something. Then you found the balls to push your dick into the soft folds of this black chick’s flesh. Your cockhead spread her pink insides open. She slipperily slid onto you until her cunt lips gripped the base of your dick. She used her lips to pitch a tent to protect you from all the ills of life. Deep in that pussy you were safe from the weather, from domestic bullshit, from your asshole boss, from monotony. You were happy in there and considered letting your desire to cum, to shoot seed overtake you and finish inside this cunt, but you got a stronger desire to try this bitch’s ass. You pulled the cock out. Her lips held you tight but ultimately acquiesced to your every desire. Her asshole was a perfectly symmetrical triskaidecagon. You pushed your head into it and soft the soft anus flesh pushed back gently like a soft lever, like a flower petal, like a wormhole in one of your outer body experiences. You felt a pit in your gut. You were fucking this black hooker (it’s not pejorative, she was literally black and a hooker) up her ass. When you tried with your wife it was always awkward and a little hostile. Your wife tried hard but her ass acted tight and uncooperative like a country club did with minorities. But this black hooker, G-strung, had an ass like a rest stop. Anyone could come and enjoy a little break from the horrors and boredom of day to day life. You pushed your cock all the way. There was nothing stopping you from going balls deep until your nuts were smacking her wet sloppy cunt lips. There was no vaginal wall that your cock head could bang against painfully. G-strung’s asshole was infinite pleasure. Well, it wasn’t infinite, but the pleasure went deeper than your cock, so from your perspective it was infinite——holy shit, you were beginning to cum and a new choice broke your train of thought.
Well, stud, looks like you have another hard choice to make, you sodomizer:
CHOOSE YOUR OWN SEXCAPADE™ is a pulpy erotic read about you and for you in which you can choose what happens next
Just go ahead and read “G-strung’s Custard Parade – A Choose Your Own Kink SEXCapade” as you would any other book but when the main character “you” is left with some choices click the link to the choice you would most likely choose and then follow to the next part. If a choice you would love to make is missing, let me know in the comments below and I’ll scribble it down. This is an extensive, labyrinthine preview. The only way to read the ending is to Click here to Order the Complete Choose Your Own Kink SEXcapade by Moctezuma Johnson on Amazon for only $2.99. Let’s begin, huh? It’s all about YOU. What are you about to do? Let’s find out.
G-strung’s Custard Parade
Your dick is out in your hand. It’s big but not fully hard. You know you have a big dick because when you’re not hard all the excess skin that will stretch out when the hormones fire and the blood flows is bunched up from under the mushroom head all the way back to the root, where the balls hang out like steroid-laced raisins. You pull the mushroom head and all that bunched up skin stretches. The blood is starting to flow. That’s because of who lies in front of you.
G-strung, as you all called her, was paid beforehand (they said) and lying face down on the white tile floor with her brown skin tight, taut, and hella fine. She was lying face down with her head in her hands. She was kicking her toes into the floor and laughing into her hands. She was cute a pink glittery button. No joke. She was. Her smile was the shit poets write about when sober. Her ass cheeks were two scoops of chocolate ice cream. If god gave out sample of her ass in little pink plastic spoons, damn, god would be popular. I don’t mean this American right wing popular I mean there would be lines trying to get in like heaven was a Haagen Dazs on a humid August day in Brooklyn. G-string was making a giggling and whining sound at the same time. The walls were white. She was feeling like she was in an insane asylum. She was kicking her toes into the ground like she couldn’t take it anymore. You thought she may have been cold, or too stoned. You looked down on her, not because she was brown and you were white. You were no racist and had dated Asians, Latinas, and other races, religions, and groupies for rival bands and sports teams before. You were open minded. They said you’d fuck anything with a pulse. You were that type, they said. They called you Sticky Rice, cause you liked Asian Chicks and admittedly jerked off rampantly. You were proud of it. Porn wasn’t something you hid. Anyway, although it wasn’t pejorative you did look down on G-strung. You looked down on her because she was lying on the floor with her beautiful ass smiling at you and you were standing over her. You had to look down at her. Now, you had to decide what to do next. You had choices. She was already paid, they assured you, and all yours. You had to take her. You could take her any which way you wanted. They say the world is your oyster, right? She was your clam. Here were your choices: