BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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There was something about the way she returned a smile as I was packing a sausage log with pig intestines and chicken guts. Normally I'm a butcher of the English language, but on that day, I was filling in for a friend who was shooting up fentanyl and Morphine back in the cooler area. I couldn't resist and lipsync whore to her as we both gazed into each other's eyes with a glass window in between. Her grin widened as her eyes followed. As if, that very word enticed her vagina.
My grandpappy once said, "A bitch is a hoe. But a hoe eating that bitch out with me slamming that shit from behind, ugh, priceless."
Not sure what that flashback memory moral lesson has to do with this shitpost story but I'm just gonna continue on anyway as if it connects. Anywho...
I wanted to know her name. Not really. I could care less if she even had one. But not to sound too cynical, let's just imagine, I cared. Moving on. What name could such a beauty deserve? Whore. Ugh. Let's try this again. What name could such a beauty deserve? Ocean. Ah, yes. Could that be her name? Or perhaps, Mountains. Ugh. Let's see how that sounds in a conversation. "Yes, you can clean the kitchen and cook my food, Mountains." Yikes. That can't be her name. Could it be Sunset - or Dusk? Hmm. "Yes, Dusky, you can bounce on my balls." Perhaps, not. Sounds too much like, Dusty.
She walks into the meat shop and asks, "Where's the restroom?" I point to the back and she proceeds but abruptly, stops. "Can you show me? I'm dumb." Ugh. A foreboding feeling of vagina doom crosses me bones. For I knew she couldn't be that feeble-minded. So I entertain and wiped my hands with the dirty bloody damp rag and tossed it back onto the counter but missed. It falls on the floor. I pick it up and set it back on the counter. I walk around the glass display deli case and lead the way. As we passed the fabric flaps that were the owner's cheap solution for doors, my friend is passed out on the floor with a syringe laying beside him and the icebox door still opened. She rushes to him and checks his pulse. He's alive. But something excited me as I saw her on all fours, hunched over him. She was in gray sweats and a black t-shirt. The bottoms were wedgied between her roastie buns. I step a few feet and kneeled down then grasped her by her waist. She winced and mutter, "Uh." I quickly drew her waistband down as she scooted her knees up so I can pull the sweats underneath to her ankles. She was wearing no underwear. Ugh. A true skank. And I could smell it. As I unzipped my jeans she says, "You're gonna fuck me over this unconscious person that looks like he's about to OD?"
"Yeah. And?" I volleyed.
"Do it." She commands.
Her pussy was soaked. Normally, I would have to wet my fingers to get that bitch relaxed but her being the filthy whore that she is, it seemed, that pussy's always wet. As we were fucking, he awakens. In disbelief, he responds, "Whoa. Dude. What the fuck, maan?"
It startles her. She grasps my hands hinting for me to stop. I scoot her hands away and say, "Take care of him too." She was already near his privates. So. You know. Knock two birds down with one stone.
"Fuck yeah!" He says as she unzips him and goes straight to work.
"Ugh. She's a trooper."
My grandpappy once said, "A bitch is a hoe. But a hoe eating that bitch out with me slamming that shit from behind, ugh, priceless."
Not sure what that flashback memory moral lesson has to do with this shitpost story but I'm just gonna continue on anyway as if it connects. Anywho...
I wanted to know her name. Not really. I could care less if she even had one. But not to sound too cynical, let's just imagine, I cared. Moving on. What name could such a beauty deserve? Whore. Ugh. Let's try this again. What name could such a beauty deserve? Ocean. Ah, yes. Could that be her name? Or perhaps, Mountains. Ugh. Let's see how that sounds in a conversation. "Yes, you can clean the kitchen and cook my food, Mountains." Yikes. That can't be her name. Could it be Sunset - or Dusk? Hmm. "Yes, Dusky, you can bounce on my balls." Perhaps, not. Sounds too much like, Dusty.
She walks into the meat shop and asks, "Where's the restroom?" I point to the back and she proceeds but abruptly, stops. "Can you show me? I'm dumb." Ugh. A foreboding feeling of vagina doom crosses me bones. For I knew she couldn't be that feeble-minded. So I entertain and wiped my hands with the dirty bloody damp rag and tossed it back onto the counter but missed. It falls on the floor. I pick it up and set it back on the counter. I walk around the glass display deli case and lead the way. As we passed the fabric flaps that were the owner's cheap solution for doors, my friend is passed out on the floor with a syringe laying beside him and the icebox door still opened. She rushes to him and checks his pulse. He's alive. But something excited me as I saw her on all fours, hunched over him. She was in gray sweats and a black t-shirt. The bottoms were wedgied between her roastie buns. I step a few feet and kneeled down then grasped her by her waist. She winced and mutter, "Uh." I quickly drew her waistband down as she scooted her knees up so I can pull the sweats underneath to her ankles. She was wearing no underwear. Ugh. A true skank. And I could smell it. As I unzipped my jeans she says, "You're gonna fuck me over this unconscious person that looks like he's about to OD?"
"Yeah. And?" I volleyed.
"Do it." She commands.
Her pussy was soaked. Normally, I would have to wet my fingers to get that bitch relaxed but her being the filthy whore that she is, it seemed, that pussy's always wet. As we were fucking, he awakens. In disbelief, he responds, "Whoa. Dude. What the fuck, maan?"
It startles her. She grasps my hands hinting for me to stop. I scoot her hands away and say, "Take care of him too." She was already near his privates. So. You know. Knock two birds down with one stone.
"Fuck yeah!" He says as she unzips him and goes straight to work.
"Ugh. She's a trooper."
