BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
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Tammy Stricta was medium in height and exceptional in every other aspect. She might as well walked out of a Victorian Secret ad, with the way her brunette hair fell in her eyes right before she swept it away, and the way her breasts wobbled like two water balloons under the fabric. In addition, she had an unusual limp when she walked, one that other women in my complex would tease me about - saying it was from too much of me.
Only 21 years old, I considered her an extended-stay bodycount and nothing more than that. The two of us would get together on some afternoons. For you know, sweaty shit-smelling fucking. Ugh.
One evening she dropped by. She was upset. "But you don't understand," she said as she paced back and forth wearing baggy gray silky underwear in front of the viewing of a game I was playing. "My boyfriend doesn't respect me."
"Ugh. Then stop fucking guys like me." I explained.
"No! I'm a free woman! I do what I want."
"Then fine. Do what you want. For starters. Shut the fuck up." I graciously suggested in a neutral tone.
"No, Jim! I have a voice! And all men will hear it!"
She would come by my place after the last class every other day. She attended a university a few miles down the road. We'd met after her matriculation when I was taking a break from jogging and stopped at a park for a stretch. She was there waiting on a friend. However, I never did ask what classes she was attending because that would be too much information for a guy like me that despise brainwashing financial scam operations.
"You're only as free as you believe you are," I begin lecturing the eager wet creature. "So if you believe your voice matters, then speak it. But when you're inside my burrow. Your voice means nothing."
"You know you're a real fucking asshole, right?" Then, displeased with my acute facts, she rebukes my astonishing realities of life. "I'm so close to never coming back here again."
I point to the door and gesture, then apathetically say, "Be sure to lock the bottom on the way out. I'm too lazy to get up."
"But since I'm a free woman, I choose to be here."
"Ugh. Too much information." I explain with candor as I watch her areoles peeking out from the white braless crop belly shirt. "Get out my way. I'm trying to kill the newbies."
She stops - blocking my entire view. Says, "Look at this," pulls her shirt up, revealing those titties. "Are you saying that game is more interesting than these?"
"Ugh. No."
She walks around the coffee table and kneels to my side, then reaches over and grabs my shaft that was along my leg under the Superman pajama bottoms I wore.
"This is the only reason I come here." She begins stroking it.
"Your boyfriend has one too."
She bursts out in laughter. "I'm only with him because of my family's expectations. His size is...tiny, compared to this." She pulls my waistband down and reaches inside, draws the monstrosity out. Her eyes widen as they always do. She then shakes her head. "This is why I walk funny." She stretches over and begins to lick him.
"You're a strange clam." I remind her what I think of her. But she ignores me and continues to lick him while massaging her titties.
Moments later, after she had helped my pajamas off, and removed her underwear. I switched from my game to a music app and started a playlist. The first song was the theme melody to the Forrest Gump movie. I then pushed the table out the way so she can reverse cowgirl my rod. She stops and says, "You know I fuckface him a lot."
"Ugh. Don't all women?"
"When he's on top, I imagine he's violating me, and you walk in and become pissed off. Then you get naked and take him from behind, teaching him a lesson never to violate me again."
"That sounded gayer than Ray."
"It's not gay when a woman's involved."
"Fuck, it's not. I don't fuck men."
"In my fantasies, you only fuck my boyfriend in his ass when he's violating me."
"You need a therapist," I say as she positons her vagina onto my shaft and eases it inside. She begins rocking as I gently pat her bristly vagina.
"I will be one. That's my academic major." Moaning commences.
The moral of that story. A voice matters. Never underestimate such power. However, a big white dick outweighs that voice any day.
Only 21 years old, I considered her an extended-stay bodycount and nothing more than that. The two of us would get together on some afternoons. For you know, sweaty shit-smelling fucking. Ugh.
One evening she dropped by. She was upset. "But you don't understand," she said as she paced back and forth wearing baggy gray silky underwear in front of the viewing of a game I was playing. "My boyfriend doesn't respect me."
"Ugh. Then stop fucking guys like me." I explained.
"No! I'm a free woman! I do what I want."
"Then fine. Do what you want. For starters. Shut the fuck up." I graciously suggested in a neutral tone.
"No, Jim! I have a voice! And all men will hear it!"
She would come by my place after the last class every other day. She attended a university a few miles down the road. We'd met after her matriculation when I was taking a break from jogging and stopped at a park for a stretch. She was there waiting on a friend. However, I never did ask what classes she was attending because that would be too much information for a guy like me that despise brainwashing financial scam operations.
"You're only as free as you believe you are," I begin lecturing the eager wet creature. "So if you believe your voice matters, then speak it. But when you're inside my burrow. Your voice means nothing."
"You know you're a real fucking asshole, right?" Then, displeased with my acute facts, she rebukes my astonishing realities of life. "I'm so close to never coming back here again."
I point to the door and gesture, then apathetically say, "Be sure to lock the bottom on the way out. I'm too lazy to get up."
"But since I'm a free woman, I choose to be here."
"Ugh. Too much information." I explain with candor as I watch her areoles peeking out from the white braless crop belly shirt. "Get out my way. I'm trying to kill the newbies."
She stops - blocking my entire view. Says, "Look at this," pulls her shirt up, revealing those titties. "Are you saying that game is more interesting than these?"
"Ugh. No."
She walks around the coffee table and kneels to my side, then reaches over and grabs my shaft that was along my leg under the Superman pajama bottoms I wore.
"This is the only reason I come here." She begins stroking it.
"Your boyfriend has one too."
She bursts out in laughter. "I'm only with him because of my family's expectations. His size is...tiny, compared to this." She pulls my waistband down and reaches inside, draws the monstrosity out. Her eyes widen as they always do. She then shakes her head. "This is why I walk funny." She stretches over and begins to lick him.
"You're a strange clam." I remind her what I think of her. But she ignores me and continues to lick him while massaging her titties.
Moments later, after she had helped my pajamas off, and removed her underwear. I switched from my game to a music app and started a playlist. The first song was the theme melody to the Forrest Gump movie. I then pushed the table out the way so she can reverse cowgirl my rod. She stops and says, "You know I fuckface him a lot."
"Ugh. Don't all women?"
"When he's on top, I imagine he's violating me, and you walk in and become pissed off. Then you get naked and take him from behind, teaching him a lesson never to violate me again."
"That sounded gayer than Ray."
"It's not gay when a woman's involved."
"Fuck, it's not. I don't fuck men."
"In my fantasies, you only fuck my boyfriend in his ass when he's violating me."
"You need a therapist," I say as she positons her vagina onto my shaft and eases it inside. She begins rocking as I gently pat her bristly vagina.
"I will be one. That's my academic major." Moaning commences.
The moral of that story. A voice matters. Never underestimate such power. However, a big white dick outweighs that voice any day.
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