His veined rod, crowned with a gleaming bulb, was exactly what she wanted, and boy was she going to get it, just as soon as she explained how Hatful of Rain: The Best of Del Amitri ‘wasn’t that great’.
As he withdrew his gargantuan pole and went to the bathroom to clean up, she lay still for a moment, wondering whether her organs would re-settle themselves into place voluntarily and how long it’d take.
He came hard into the Christmas pudding! The sight of those boobs wreathed in tinsel was just too much – well, that and the sensation of his sturdy wand plunging in and out of the warm figs, apricots and orange rind.
“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly p-” BRAAAAAK! A fart rang out, not only sounding like the cry of some crazed dinosaur but completely cutting off the song, the singers turning to Dietmar in anger, but then letting it go as the family at the door fell about laughing and, indeed, gave a bigger tip than they had originally intended, although all the coins later turned out to be counterfeit, and the charges for trying to use them were dropped only in the new year.
She drifted listlessly through the days, having a daytime nap here, a cheeky glass of Pimms (less fun without the girls) there, a slice of cake on occasion, but always niggled by the miserable dearth of hard penises to slide onto. As she prepared to move house, though, she did at least find an old laserdisc of gay pornography, and though she struggled to imagine herself in any of the roles presented on screen, she was brought to a sudden, screaming orgasm simply by the sight of a solid and slightly upcurved rod and the way it spilled spunken goodness from its winking terminus.
“To you, my lord, I dedicate this offering, so humble to thee, but the most I can sacrifice,” he intoned, before laying back, lifting his legs and drawing them back as close to his head as possible, directing his bishop at his own face and splurging for all his life was worth.
Her hair was golden, her eyes a deep green, and when he first touched her skin, it was so soft, soft like the cock of someone with impotence (not him – his cock was hard).
A hundred spunking wangers, a thousand hairy balls. A million spermy servings, the Lord God made them all.