Today’s collection is chicks with cats…naked chicks with BIG fuckin’ cats. Hard to beat that combo,
We toasted to passion last night – a watchword for 2013, we decided.
Here are visual musings on passion.
Passion can be eternal,
Passion can be momentary,
Passion can be steadfast, Continue reading →
Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses – but a cumshot? Now friends, that’s a different story…
I heard a variation on the quote (or is it now elevated to aphorism status?) from Will Truman in a Will and Grace episode: “Guys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses,” and Jack McFarland shot back: “Guys don’t passes at guys with fat asses!” I recalled the original quote/chant from many more years before that, so I looked up the real source (and more pics and GIFs after the jump break).
She could hear him from the other room. He always masturbated late at night. Always wearing his cowboy boots. After listening to him several nights in a row, she could no longer contain herself.
Tonight, she had a little surprise for him.
She donned a black camisole, a matching garter belt, and stockings. Once he had commenced his regular nighttime routine she slipped on a pair of high heels and stepped outside.
She sauntered to his bedroom door and turned the knob. As expected, it was unlocked.
“What took you so long?” he asked, tipping his hat down, hiding his eyes. He held out his shaft expecting service without another word. She dropped her head and began moving forward, feeling her body ripen and spread. The sheriff had given her this task, and now it was time to prove her worth.
“When you’re done with me, you can do my deputies,” he said.
Startled, she looked left and saw two other deputies. They were sitting there wearing nothing but cowboy boots and hats. Low laughter filled the room. She felt the first trickle of juice leak from her pussy.
While she hadn’t expected the extra company, she didn’t mind. The more the merrier. With the sheriff’s delicious-looking dick within her sight, she got on her knees and crawled towards him. Meanwhile, the deputies got an unobstructed view of her upturned ass, wet pussy, and glistening thighs.
“This is handy,” she said, slithering up his legs like a sidewinder on a sand dune. Easing her dripping pussy onto the waiting cock, she pulled the five-pointed star out of her camisole.
“U.S. Marshall Matta Harree,” she announced. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“But betcha can’t.”
That is the six-part story resulting from the September Serial Sex Story challenge: the pic and each writer had to produce a chunk of 49 words or less, picking up on the evolving chain in the designated order from the challenge.
If everyone’s up for it maybe we’ll try this once a month toward the end of the month. Any and all comments and feedback welcome, of course. I am inclined to think the segments should be longer so each writer has a bit more opportunity to develop her or his piece.