BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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That didn't suppose to happen again.
That was to be avoided. But then again, when do things ever go right in my life? Since I was hired by Wet Mama's District 69, so much has gone wrong. Why me?
I finished pulling up my metallic gold G-string thong and adjusted the waistband along my hips. Then I slide my feet into my favorite oversize fluffy bunny slippers and grab my black rob from the portable closet.
My knees are shaking a little—to be honest, my whole body is shaking a little—as I ease my arms into the sleeves. But I feel I brought that on to myself. It's always my fault. I'm no victim. I'm a fool! That's what I am. A no-good muscular joke. With a big dick. Ugh. There I go again! Always have to bring my big dick into the story. DAMN YOU, REALITY! This is the second act of the night. Or, as Mama calls it, the double rub. And it hasn't gotten any easier since that night.
It's been twenty hours since I was gang-raped. Or, as the ladies refer to it, The Cockblind Challenge. Ugh. I'm not ready to speak about that. I've to loosen up first.
My stomach growls and aches. I feel hungry but know I've already max my calory intake for the day. I don't wanna be a fattie with a big dick. Not like that pedophilic Ron Jeremy. Ugh. Gotta keep the belly tight! Unlike vaginas that experience me—ugh—destroyed where no man can ever enjoy that close-knit sensation.
I take several deep breaths. Then, I hear the women hollering female retardation and chanting, "Big Jim! Big Jim! Big Jim!" Ugh. The arrogance of me to praise myself in storytelling. Impressive. But that night kept sneaking back into my thoughts. "Oh, no, Jim. You'll be fine. It'll just be you and a group of intoxicated women. Trust me. You'll be safe with us." I tried to shake those thoughts out of my head, but my penis insisted that I recollect.
I had just finished my triple-dipper rub and was leaving the o' joint. There were two ladies I recognized from my double rub standing outside against a pink and brown stripe jeep. One was tipsy. Blackie. She had short black hair. But the other, the tall blonde with legs that went on forever, she was alert. And her engagement was affixed on me.
"You were great!" She declared as she inspected my body. I felt she was undressing me with her eyes. "We already saw you naked, Jim. Remember? You're a male stripper? So why would I be undressing you with my eyes? That doesn't fit this part of the story." Ugh. She teased my storytelling with confidence and then interrupted, "With confidence? What does that even mean?" She was persistent. Blackie then approached, wobbling back and forth like a drunk in front of a liquor store in the part of town moral law-abiding citizens know not to venture.
"Blackie?" Blackie questioned my narration. "Fuck you! I'm not black, asshole." Ugh. She, too, began ridiculing my storytelling. I felt an uneasy feeling as if these two were up to something. Something devious.
The tall blonde rolled her eyes and said, "So anyway, we were wondering if you're doing anything later." Sarcastically in a dull manner, she inquired.
"Ugh. I thought about stopping at the gym and pumping these bitches up." I flexed my biceps and winked. She rolled her eyes again. Blackie injected herself into the convo.
"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me blackie?" She rushed to me and peered up as if her petite feminine stance was to terrify me. But something else happened. She realized the magnitude of my size as she recalled that big dick I was packing. "I got an idea!" She said to her friend with enthusiasm.
"You wanna take him back to our place and call the girls over?" Blondie, the now-psychic, asked in anticipation
"Yes!" They both then suspiciously goggled me.
"I don't know. I feel this foreshadows an ominous event as if you two are collaborating on something devious."
"Oh, no, Jim. You'll be fine. It'll just be you and a group of intoxicated women. Trust me. You'll be safe with us." Both girls then winked at me. And because of those winks, I felt soothed and knew nothing could go wrong.
An hour later, I arrived at a house near a college campus. I parked my rental bicycle in the street and logged off the service, JuBer, with a phone app. Fucking people rob you. Ten cents per minute? Brutal. I proceed to the door and knock gently. I can hear the music blaring from inside. So I knock gently more. No one answered. I figured they must have fallen asleep. Then, as I was walking away, the door opened. Another blackie holding a bag of trash.
"Jimbo?" She questions me. I nod. She tossed the bag at the trash can near the sidewalk, missed the closed lid, and hurried to me. She skated her arm around my arm, thus locking it in place, and led me into the house.
Long story short, they sexually assaulted me. But it didn't immediately transpire. About two hours in, I'm drinking their free vodka and juice, and the tall blonde announced. "Let's play Cockblind Challenge!" She turns to me and continues, "Jim. You're the cock, and we're going to blindfold you.
"And that's it? I don't get it." I was confused. I looked around and observed their anticipated eyes. Women, ugh. They indeed are special but dumb.
"No. It's a surprise." I liked surprises, so I let them blindfold me and sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the living room. They tied my hands together behind the backrest.
One of them yelled, "Surprise! We're raping you." Then I felt several hands removing my clothing.
Blondie wrapped a band around my ballsack, saying, "We're cumming. You're not." Cruel rapists they were.
They took turns. And some of them started fighting with each other as I heard squashing sounds and moans. Ugh. I can't do this. I have to stop. Sorry.
I wanted to tell a story about triumph and defying impossibilities but that damn fucking night! The story must end.
That was to be avoided. But then again, when do things ever go right in my life? Since I was hired by Wet Mama's District 69, so much has gone wrong. Why me?
I finished pulling up my metallic gold G-string thong and adjusted the waistband along my hips. Then I slide my feet into my favorite oversize fluffy bunny slippers and grab my black rob from the portable closet.
My knees are shaking a little—to be honest, my whole body is shaking a little—as I ease my arms into the sleeves. But I feel I brought that on to myself. It's always my fault. I'm no victim. I'm a fool! That's what I am. A no-good muscular joke. With a big dick. Ugh. There I go again! Always have to bring my big dick into the story. DAMN YOU, REALITY! This is the second act of the night. Or, as Mama calls it, the double rub. And it hasn't gotten any easier since that night.
It's been twenty hours since I was gang-raped. Or, as the ladies refer to it, The Cockblind Challenge. Ugh. I'm not ready to speak about that. I've to loosen up first.
My stomach growls and aches. I feel hungry but know I've already max my calory intake for the day. I don't wanna be a fattie with a big dick. Not like that pedophilic Ron Jeremy. Ugh. Gotta keep the belly tight! Unlike vaginas that experience me—ugh—destroyed where no man can ever enjoy that close-knit sensation.
I take several deep breaths. Then, I hear the women hollering female retardation and chanting, "Big Jim! Big Jim! Big Jim!" Ugh. The arrogance of me to praise myself in storytelling. Impressive. But that night kept sneaking back into my thoughts. "Oh, no, Jim. You'll be fine. It'll just be you and a group of intoxicated women. Trust me. You'll be safe with us." I tried to shake those thoughts out of my head, but my penis insisted that I recollect.
I had just finished my triple-dipper rub and was leaving the o' joint. There were two ladies I recognized from my double rub standing outside against a pink and brown stripe jeep. One was tipsy. Blackie. She had short black hair. But the other, the tall blonde with legs that went on forever, she was alert. And her engagement was affixed on me.
"You were great!" She declared as she inspected my body. I felt she was undressing me with her eyes. "We already saw you naked, Jim. Remember? You're a male stripper? So why would I be undressing you with my eyes? That doesn't fit this part of the story." Ugh. She teased my storytelling with confidence and then interrupted, "With confidence? What does that even mean?" She was persistent. Blackie then approached, wobbling back and forth like a drunk in front of a liquor store in the part of town moral law-abiding citizens know not to venture.
"Blackie?" Blackie questioned my narration. "Fuck you! I'm not black, asshole." Ugh. She, too, began ridiculing my storytelling. I felt an uneasy feeling as if these two were up to something. Something devious.
The tall blonde rolled her eyes and said, "So anyway, we were wondering if you're doing anything later." Sarcastically in a dull manner, she inquired.
"Ugh. I thought about stopping at the gym and pumping these bitches up." I flexed my biceps and winked. She rolled her eyes again. Blackie injected herself into the convo.
"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me blackie?" She rushed to me and peered up as if her petite feminine stance was to terrify me. But something else happened. She realized the magnitude of my size as she recalled that big dick I was packing. "I got an idea!" She said to her friend with enthusiasm.
"You wanna take him back to our place and call the girls over?" Blondie, the now-psychic, asked in anticipation
"Yes!" They both then suspiciously goggled me.
"I don't know. I feel this foreshadows an ominous event as if you two are collaborating on something devious."
"Oh, no, Jim. You'll be fine. It'll just be you and a group of intoxicated women. Trust me. You'll be safe with us." Both girls then winked at me. And because of those winks, I felt soothed and knew nothing could go wrong.
An hour later, I arrived at a house near a college campus. I parked my rental bicycle in the street and logged off the service, JuBer, with a phone app. Fucking people rob you. Ten cents per minute? Brutal. I proceed to the door and knock gently. I can hear the music blaring from inside. So I knock gently more. No one answered. I figured they must have fallen asleep. Then, as I was walking away, the door opened. Another blackie holding a bag of trash.
"Jimbo?" She questions me. I nod. She tossed the bag at the trash can near the sidewalk, missed the closed lid, and hurried to me. She skated her arm around my arm, thus locking it in place, and led me into the house.
Long story short, they sexually assaulted me. But it didn't immediately transpire. About two hours in, I'm drinking their free vodka and juice, and the tall blonde announced. "Let's play Cockblind Challenge!" She turns to me and continues, "Jim. You're the cock, and we're going to blindfold you.
"And that's it? I don't get it." I was confused. I looked around and observed their anticipated eyes. Women, ugh. They indeed are special but dumb.
"No. It's a surprise." I liked surprises, so I let them blindfold me and sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the living room. They tied my hands together behind the backrest.
One of them yelled, "Surprise! We're raping you." Then I felt several hands removing my clothing.
Blondie wrapped a band around my ballsack, saying, "We're cumming. You're not." Cruel rapists they were.
They took turns. And some of them started fighting with each other as I heard squashing sounds and moans. Ugh. I can't do this. I have to stop. Sorry.
I wanted to tell a story about triumph and defying impossibilities but that damn fucking night! The story must end.
