BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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May 19, 2019
LOCATION: CONDO
SETTING: EVENING
STARRING: ME. SHELLY (ACQUAINTANCE). ERIC (INDIAN NEXT STORE NEIGHBOR). VALERIE (THE ELEVATOR.)
Pacing on the treadmill at the gym, I was browsing shows on my phone to watch later at home. Finally, I located a good one. 'What We Do in the Shadows.' It's a documentary film that follows a family of viggers and portrays the struggles they have to endure living among the food supply. It sounded up my alley. I click Send to TV. I then view my wristwatch pedometer and see that I've bypassed my daily steps at 27,421. It was time to get the fuck. As I proceeded to the lockers, I stopped to admire the Chad in the mirror. Black tank top, gray sweatpants, and white high-top Folgers. I resume to the room and take a shower.
Shortly later, slowly strolling through the smelly steamy room naked in white buck posture as other guys look and realize it's over for them, I reach my locker, type in the unlock code, open it and pluck my fresh clothes and backpack.
Now donned in a wife-beater gray tank and black sweats, I decided to walk home. Usually, I'll Yahoo, but I felt I could use another 3,000. I arrive at my place twenty-six minutes later and enter Valerie. The elevator detected me and appropriately responded in the usual seductive feminine tone, Easy, not so rough. So I stepped a foot at a time as she reacted, Ahhh, yes. Finally, inside, I press my floor button, and the door closes with a gasp reaction. As each floor we pass, she grunts. Then she wailed, YES! It meant we stopped on the 11th floor. A woman manifests. Ugh. I knew her. Shelly. "Jim!" She said while scanning my body and Valerie gasping again. She shakes her head. "Mmm-uh. What I wouldn't do."
"Hey, Shelly-Melly-Welly-Belly-Deli." I greeted her as I observed her business attire. Black skirt an inch about the knees and matching jacket and strappy high heels.
"You are retarded, uh?" But, she doubted not appearing satisfied with the preferred moniker.
"Ugh. There goes that r-word." I, too, contested.
"So ... what are you doing tonight?"
"What," I said and footed closer to her. "We," I stepped to her side. "Do." I walked behind her, but she turned and faced me. "In." I backed away. "The." I ambled closer again. "Shadows." She quickly recoiled and tapped a number key rapidly while darting me with suspicious apprehension. She didn't say anything and kept goggling as Valerie gasped at each floor we went.
Finally, she spoke. "You need serious help, Jim. I'm not joking anymore. Please ... please ... get help."
"Would you like to watch that show with me?" And just as those words left my lips, the elevator alerted the 129th floor with feedback. Mmm, uh. Thanks. Lose my number.
"Um," unsure, she scanned my body again. "Okay! But I have to collect a payment from a client first. So give me half of an hour ... I'll pass by."
"So be it!" I yelled.
As the door was saying, Easy, not so rough, she placed her hand out, causing Valerie to react with a heavy agitated sigh. The door reopened. She cynically asked, "Um. You're not going to hurt me or anything, right?"
"Do I look black?" racistly, I replied. Shelly nodded in relief. I left Valerie and proceeded down the pink hall to my door. A door across from mine flared as I pushed my face against my door lock sensor plate. It was my neighbor, Eric. "Hey, Jim! It's Indian Eric! Your neighbor? Never mind me, though. I'm just filling in that casting credit above." I ignore him, as we all do, and move inside.
After cleaning me penis and scrubbing me ballsack, I donned into my favorite white ghost pajamas and matching hoodie. I sit on the sofa, and the doorbell rings. DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! I have a custom doorbell.
I answered the door, and it was the expected company. Shelly changed clothes as I noticed the conspicuous white silky mini-skirt and thin white blouse. Looking at her sandals, she turns her back to me. She lifts the back of her shirt and says, "Do you notice something missing?" I see it was a low-rider. Her butt crack was vulnerable.
"Ugh. What?" Confused at her question, I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.
"I'm not wearing underwear. You'll usually see a thong strap back there. No strap, no underwear. Eh?" She walked inside, pushing through me. I shake my head, not fully understanding why she shared that intel with me.
I make our drinks as she loiters my unit. There's not much I know about Shelly. I see her here and there in the complex. Sometimes, I catch her arriving home and, other times, leaving. I ran into her once in the workout room, but she ignored me while talking on the wireless phone. I needed to know more about her, so I snooped into her shit. "What do you do for a living, Shelly?"
"Paralegal."
"Oh, you work with paraplegics or something ... like a nurse?" Knowing that term all too well, I show off my knowledge.
"No, Jim. I'm not a nurse. How bout we not talk about this, cool?"
Ugh. It seems Shelly wasn't much into sharing personal information. So I handed her the requested drink. Margarita. One of my many talents. She sipped it and was pleased as she acknowledged bobbing her head.
Not much later, sitting close together on the sofa, I turn the show on. The opening screen begins with a druggie skank singing about death. "So what is this about?" She questioned.
"Real life viggers. It's a documentary about the struggles viggers have to endure in our soc-" suddenly, I feel my penis leaving my bottoms as I look down and see the back of her head.
To be discontinued...
LOCATION: CONDO
SETTING: EVENING
STARRING: ME. SHELLY (ACQUAINTANCE). ERIC (INDIAN NEXT STORE NEIGHBOR). VALERIE (THE ELEVATOR.)
Pacing on the treadmill at the gym, I was browsing shows on my phone to watch later at home. Finally, I located a good one. 'What We Do in the Shadows.' It's a documentary film that follows a family of viggers and portrays the struggles they have to endure living among the food supply. It sounded up my alley. I click Send to TV. I then view my wristwatch pedometer and see that I've bypassed my daily steps at 27,421. It was time to get the fuck. As I proceeded to the lockers, I stopped to admire the Chad in the mirror. Black tank top, gray sweatpants, and white high-top Folgers. I resume to the room and take a shower.
Shortly later, slowly strolling through the smelly steamy room naked in white buck posture as other guys look and realize it's over for them, I reach my locker, type in the unlock code, open it and pluck my fresh clothes and backpack.
Now donned in a wife-beater gray tank and black sweats, I decided to walk home. Usually, I'll Yahoo, but I felt I could use another 3,000. I arrive at my place twenty-six minutes later and enter Valerie. The elevator detected me and appropriately responded in the usual seductive feminine tone, Easy, not so rough. So I stepped a foot at a time as she reacted, Ahhh, yes. Finally, inside, I press my floor button, and the door closes with a gasp reaction. As each floor we pass, she grunts. Then she wailed, YES! It meant we stopped on the 11th floor. A woman manifests. Ugh. I knew her. Shelly. "Jim!" She said while scanning my body and Valerie gasping again. She shakes her head. "Mmm-uh. What I wouldn't do."
"Hey, Shelly-Melly-Welly-Belly-Deli." I greeted her as I observed her business attire. Black skirt an inch about the knees and matching jacket and strappy high heels.
"You are retarded, uh?" But, she doubted not appearing satisfied with the preferred moniker.
"Ugh. There goes that r-word." I, too, contested.
"So ... what are you doing tonight?"
"What," I said and footed closer to her. "We," I stepped to her side. "Do." I walked behind her, but she turned and faced me. "In." I backed away. "The." I ambled closer again. "Shadows." She quickly recoiled and tapped a number key rapidly while darting me with suspicious apprehension. She didn't say anything and kept goggling as Valerie gasped at each floor we went.
Finally, she spoke. "You need serious help, Jim. I'm not joking anymore. Please ... please ... get help."
"Would you like to watch that show with me?" And just as those words left my lips, the elevator alerted the 129th floor with feedback. Mmm, uh. Thanks. Lose my number.
"Um," unsure, she scanned my body again. "Okay! But I have to collect a payment from a client first. So give me half of an hour ... I'll pass by."
"So be it!" I yelled.
As the door was saying, Easy, not so rough, she placed her hand out, causing Valerie to react with a heavy agitated sigh. The door reopened. She cynically asked, "Um. You're not going to hurt me or anything, right?"
"Do I look black?" racistly, I replied. Shelly nodded in relief. I left Valerie and proceeded down the pink hall to my door. A door across from mine flared as I pushed my face against my door lock sensor plate. It was my neighbor, Eric. "Hey, Jim! It's Indian Eric! Your neighbor? Never mind me, though. I'm just filling in that casting credit above." I ignore him, as we all do, and move inside.
After cleaning me penis and scrubbing me ballsack, I donned into my favorite white ghost pajamas and matching hoodie. I sit on the sofa, and the doorbell rings. DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! DING-DING-DING, MOTHERFUCKER! I have a custom doorbell.
I answered the door, and it was the expected company. Shelly changed clothes as I noticed the conspicuous white silky mini-skirt and thin white blouse. Looking at her sandals, she turns her back to me. She lifts the back of her shirt and says, "Do you notice something missing?" I see it was a low-rider. Her butt crack was vulnerable.
"Ugh. What?" Confused at her question, I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.
"I'm not wearing underwear. You'll usually see a thong strap back there. No strap, no underwear. Eh?" She walked inside, pushing through me. I shake my head, not fully understanding why she shared that intel with me.
I make our drinks as she loiters my unit. There's not much I know about Shelly. I see her here and there in the complex. Sometimes, I catch her arriving home and, other times, leaving. I ran into her once in the workout room, but she ignored me while talking on the wireless phone. I needed to know more about her, so I snooped into her shit. "What do you do for a living, Shelly?"
"Paralegal."
"Oh, you work with paraplegics or something ... like a nurse?" Knowing that term all too well, I show off my knowledge.
"No, Jim. I'm not a nurse. How bout we not talk about this, cool?"
Ugh. It seems Shelly wasn't much into sharing personal information. So I handed her the requested drink. Margarita. One of my many talents. She sipped it and was pleased as she acknowledged bobbing her head.
Not much later, sitting close together on the sofa, I turn the show on. The opening screen begins with a druggie skank singing about death. "So what is this about?" She questioned.
"Real life viggers. It's a documentary about the struggles viggers have to endure in our soc-" suddenly, I feel my penis leaving my bottoms as I look down and see the back of her head.
To be discontinued...
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