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author. codes: M+f/ humil / caution /
anal
WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex
practices that might well offend you. If so, please leave. Some of
the sex depicted is consensual, some not. I don't condone it. I'm
not advocating it. I may or may not even like it. It's simply a
fantasy, a product of my imagination, and thus, completely fictitious. Peace, brothers
& sisters.
Before you read it, please note the following:
*If you are under
eighteen, it is illegal for you to read this story!
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reality, do not read this story!
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Dire Street
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Bad
Robot
(aka Hunsi)
Book cover Picture
Click to meet the players
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/HumblePie/dire.jpg
---
Chapter 1:
The Husband Pleads his Case to his Jury of
One
"John," Mary said. "You said
so yourself. The Miller’s were just like us, and look what happened to them!"
"Brads mistake," John said,
responding to his wife’s critique.
"He's a dreamer who went into it with rose colored glasses. Me, I'm a pragmatist. He was looking to revitalize whereas it is
mine to jump right in and scoop up all the zero interest money the government
is willing to dish out to tear down, drain the cesspool and rebuild the lower
east side of the Harbor district to its former glory."
"Trust me, Mary, give me a year, two
tops, and I promise you that all those fools who see the potential as I do, but
haven’t the balls to jump in now will come flooding in with big money to buy up
anything and everything they can get their hands on.
“And you know what is going to be on top of
that list? That’s right,” he answered
for her, “My newly restored 20 unit tenement at 99 Dire
st. Ground
zero of what was once such a glorious place with such an illustrious past that
is now but a home for the rats and the junkies in he heart of the Bowery. But
best of all, you get all that history, and charm, plus the convenience of
living just a mile a way from the skyscrapers downtown that house the captains
of industry for all the Northeast.”
“Money, money, money, you hearing me wife?”
he said to Mary while tapping the side of his head. "Now, wife, what have you for dinner?"
he asked while walking over to the stove grinning like a man who just wow a
multi-million dollar lottery.
Then after lifting the lid on the pot
boiling atop the stove, “Stew again! Oh
no, this will not do!”
"Stay right there, don't move, Mary,
I'll be right back with some steaks.
It's Prime Rib for you from now on, Mrs. Soon-to-be-owner of the once famed
Rose Winifred home on Dire Street, ground zero of $$$."
"Now, you just sit a bit and give me 10
minutes to run to Philli-Joe's and roust us up some
of the best damn steaks to be found anywhere."
And so he did, and she did, sitting and
waiting and waiting until such time she need rise up from her chair to respond
to a knock on the door.
"Mr. Johnson,” she said to the pale,
colorless man standing at her door. “You
look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
"Mary, come quick! There's been an accident!"
"An
accident?"
"Yes, an accident. It’s John!" He said, gasping and snorting, clearly at a
loss for breath. "Come,
quick," he managed through a spasm of rasping and Wheezing while taking
hold of her hand, and pulled her out the door. "I saw it, Mary, I saw it with my own eyes."
"What Mr. Johnson, What did you see?"
"The cab, Mary,
the cab! It jumped the curb and mowed down John and
three others on its way through the front window of Philli-Joe's
Gourmet Meats!"
---
Chapter 2
Two Weeks latter, Meeting her attorney ...
"Good afternoon, Mary," Mr.Taylor, her attorney, said while extending his hand to
her as she entered. Please have a
seat," he then said while seeking to reclaim possession of his own.
"Thank you for coming in. I know how hard all this has been on you and
the kids. However, something has come up
that simply must be address, and I mean pronto," he said as he tossed the
morning edition of the Philli Gazette across his desk
for her to see the full front page spread, bearing the headline:
Gov’t reneges on
promise!
Won't
"You know what that mean, Mary? It means that based on the assumption that
the purchase of the property on Dire Street was going to be substancially
underwritten by federal redevelopment money, he went out and hocked the shop to
buy what is now a worthless piece of property.”
"In short, that means you are facing bankruptancy. Your home, all your assets gone, leaveing
you and your children out on the street.
"Oh my god," she wept, her face
buried in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Mary, I truly am, but I see
no way out of it. Umm, well, that is . .
.”
“What?”
“Unless you try to make a go of it on your
own before the bank to whom you are indebted, sets the
legal process in motion to recall the loan.”
"I can do that?"
"Yes, as I said, if you were to do so
before the legal process begins. But,
before you even start to consider it, I feel it is mine to inform you that I
took it upon my own to research the prior history of the property."
"Well John did tell me some about it. That it was once the home of a much loved opera
star by the name of Rose Winifred, and that on any given Sunday she could be
seen standing upon her terrace throwing rose petals down on the street as her
countless fans strolled past.
“He also happened to mention that in the
1927 spring edition of Variety Magazine, it was her home that was voted the
single most important places to see and be seen in all of
"Yes, but did he also tell you that
Dire Street was once called Primrose Lane, and that the name change only came about
after Madam Winifred was found hanging from the rafters? Or that the follow-up investigation of the
incident found neither a table, nor a chair, nor anything movable in the room
upon which she could stand to hang herself?
And more puzzling yet, why was it that they found her with face twisted
in agony, yet she held out her hands, palms up, in front of her bosom to form a
cradle for the Turtle Dove that still lie nested in her palms when found some
hours later after her death."
"The juxtaposition being such that it
still stirs questions about the supernatural, omens, evil Spirits and such that
to this day still scared the holy crap out of everyone, and as a result, the crowds that once flooded
the street left it abandon, making way for the grift and
outright criminals that to this day still use it as a place to hide away."
"The truth is, after her death,
“So take my advice, Mary, and forget
it. It's called
-----
Chap 3
Moving in:
Mary turns on the lovelight
. . .
Mary sat in her kitchen looking out her bay
window and on to the street below with chin in hands and nursing a cup of tea.
The sky was gray, and the damp and the chill in the air was rife with the smell
of decay, just as she found it to be every morning since her move into the old Winifred
place on Dire Street in the heart of the old harbor distict.
The smell of decay, thick and pervasive, had
her feeling decidedly queasy. No more so
than when she looked down upon the squalid street below.
Just to the right of her vision, beneath the
flashing blue neon, stood "Bosco's Peep show
Arcade," and beside that sqalid looking place
stood a monument build to enshrine the word nasty: "Bosco's
Smutty Lady Strip Club. A place where the naked ladies in the
window would shimmy & shake their tassiled tits
and spread their legs wide enough to see their tonsils to entice the crowd
mulling about outside to come in.
And there was “
It was just at moment that Bobbi and Robbi, her kids, walked in on her, shaking her out of her
malaise.
"Morning mommy," they said, in
sync, as they did in everything. In
fact, they were so alike that when one sneezed the other would blow their
nose. But they were twins after all,
born but an hour apart. Bobbi her
eldest, and Robbi, her forever present son who shaddowed her daughter's every steps.
"Can we have pancakes for
breakfast?"
"No, you're already dressed and you'll
end up with syrup all over your blouse," she said as her sought to
straighten her daughter's blouse while Robbi took it
upon himself to straighten his own. Then
after a foot tapping, hands-on-hips-stare from his mother, he took it upon
himself to retie the drawstring on his Elsa Berry white linen shorts.
“There, much better,” she said, ruffling his
hair.
It was then that she heard someone hustling
up the steps, and followed shortly thereafter by a knock upon the door.
Startled by the unexpected, she quickly
adjusted herself and then set things right with her matching book-end kids.
"There is milk in the frig and box of Ginger Critters in the cupboard, and
as I've warned you about before, under no circumstance are either of you to
look out that window," she said
quite firmly while pointing toward the bay window that looked down upon the vomitous human slime pit below.
Once they gave their, "cross my
heart," pledge of reassurance, she advanced hurriedly to the foyer to see
who it was.
Looking out the peep hole in the door she
saw a black man peering back at her, and in his hand, the 'For Rent' sign she
had stapled to the door frame just an hour before.
For a long moment she just stood there while
running through a mental check list, comparing him to the human slime across
the street who frightened her half to death. In truth, just the thought of one of those
animals might find their way into her home was enough to send her running to the
bankruptcy court with kids in hand to expunged her debt and hopeing
that by days end, she’d at least have enouth left to
feed her kids.
The man outside standing at her door surely
looked the part. Dress as he was from
his skull Cap down to his boots in black.
Then when you add in the dreads, presto, that living, breathing human
black monolith of a man standing outside her door with her’For
Rent’sign in hand, looked every bit the thug who was noless likely to rape her as he was eat her.
The fact is, the mere sight of him sent a
shiver up her spine, and caused her breath to grow shallow. Though still with her wits about her, she remained
quite cognizant of the fact that she had but dollars left to spend on essentials,
least her children be left to stave if a prospective renter didn't appear soon.
So, summoning up her courage, she opened the
door, if only
enough to squeeze her head through.
"I need me a place to rent, mam, and I hear you got some."
"Not interested," she said while
shutting the door in his face.
"Whoa-whoa-lady," he said as he put
his foot in the door looking a tabbit piqued. "What's your problem, lady? I ain't done nothing. I perfumed up, picked my dreads, and even
borrowed me a pair of Jockey's from Dante to tuck in my junk,” he said, while grabbing
hold of his crotch.
"So you see, I ain't
given you no reason to shut the door in my face. That is, of course, unless you just don’t
like niggars!"
"No, I didn’t say that!”She
bristled.
“Say what?”
“The N-word’. I would
never say that,” she replied, not knowing how to respond to being called a
racist. An accusation that was
tantamount to a crime in the burbs from which she was
a product.
“That’s okay, lady. “I say, you say niggar,
either way I’m cool with it,” he replied, with a grin that showed two tons of
teeth.
"Yes, well, that’s gentlemanly of you,”
she followed suit, now feeling somewhat disarmed.
“You mean, I don’t look like I’m gonna eat you, hmm?”
“No, no you don’t. Look, why don't you come on in and I'll show
you what I have?"
"Yes, mam, thank
you kindly,”he replied, while making his way to step
in, but not before attempting to hide away the roach in his mouth beneath his
tongue for safe keeping.
---
Stepping into the foyer his senses were immediately
assaulted by the smell of molding wallpaper and the rot of Drywall.
Noting one paticularly
nasty looking blister of wallpaper bubbling up and off of the wall, he reached
out to peel back the corner, revealing as he did the damp and moldy hardwood
wall beneath.
"Damn, where is all this moisture coming
from?” he asked her as she grimaced, her face red with mortification.
"I don't know," she replied, “We
just move in yesterday, and with the kids and all, I feel mysef
luck to have just found my way to the kitchen from my bedroom.”
“Why are you here suffering in this rat trap
and not safely tucked away nicely in some place out in the burbs?”
"Well, I’m here because my late husband
had it in mind to restore this once grand place to its former glory.”
“A dreamer, he was, hu? Well, by the looks of it he had is work cut
out for him. To tell the truth, the rat
hole I live in now looks a paradise compared to this."
"But to be honest, even with the rot
and deterioration I can see the promise he saw in this place too."
"You can?"
"Damn straight. But first ‘we’ gotta
figure out what is causing all this rot."
"What's it like upstairs?" he then
asked.
"I'll show you," she said, as she set
off, climbing the stairs past one floor and upward to the next, answering his
questions as he followed close knit behind. That is until they reached the 7th, and top floor.
Opening the door, he saw the crumbling
remains of the rotted gabled roof in piles on the floor, and above, the stream
of moisture dripping down from around the perimeter of the gaping hole.
"Little lady, I think I found your
problem!"
"Oh my, oh, yes. Sorry, but this is my first time up here. Can it be fixed?"
"Maybe, but not
by the almighty. So excluding that possibility, I'd say you’re
lucky to know Black Moses."
"Black
Moses?"
"Yeah, me. That's what my friends call me. Nat, Black Moses, James, because I know how to part the waters.
And if anyone can fix you up, I'm the one."
"I'm afraid to ask how much doing such
a thing would cost me? As things are, the kids and me are
already near starving, and if I don't start luring in the renters soon, we will
be."
"Then you are doubly lucky to know
me. I got me a crew, and by the looks of
this place, the sooner I round them up the better. And don't you worry none. They got the knowhow,
they got the tools, all we need to hear from you is that you’re all juiced up
and ready to go.”
“Yes, of course, I mean it’s not like I have
a choice!”
And on that he turned around and hustled it
down the stairs and out the front door . . .
---
Nat James, the Black Moses, spent the rest
of the afternoon rounding up his crew, and feeling pretty chipper about the way
things had gone down, he could hardly wait to return the next morning.
And he felt no less high in the saddle when
he did return the following morning, only this time he didn’t even bother to
knock, he just walked right in the front door and into the kitcken,
where he first met the twins.
“Well, hello there,” he said, taking in the
sight that was Bobby & Robbi, Mary’s twins, munching
down on thier morning cereal. “What a sweet pair of lollipops
the pair of you make.”
‘I’m Nat James, but you can call me, Black
Moses cuz all my friends do, and I want so much to be
your friend. So why don’t you come over here and I’ll give you both a piggy-back
ride.”
The kids, bursting with excitement, jumped
right up and into his out stretched arms whereupon he hoist them atop his shoulders,
Bobbi on the left and Robbi on the right.
It was at that moment when, Mary, their
mother, walked in.
“Morning, moms, "Look who I bumped
into,’ he then added brightly. “I come in
to get me some coffee, and while I found me none, I sure as hell found me the
sugar," he laughed, then beamed that never-ending grin of his.
Bobbi and Robbi
were no less giddy, specially when Nat Moses James spun around on the sole of
his shoes with his hands latched on tight to their naked buns to keep them from
falling, and to introduce them to the five prong skewers they were going to come to know down
to every wart, lump, bump or patch of abrasive skin on his hands and fingers.
"Momma,” he then said, while those
prong-like fingers were already seeking out the crease that split their cheeks.
“You know you should have warned me about these two. A fella can end up
feeling pretty darn doped by the suger rush that
comes when sucking on one of these sweet lil' lollipops.”
“You ask me, I say screw them Columbian
beans and bring on the sugar, Mama,” he said as his trigger finger was pressing
down into the crease that split their cheeks, causing Bobbi and Robbi, both, to vent a breathless sigh.
“Twins, right, Mama?”
“Yes, born but an hour apart.”
“Dressed a like, looking a like, it’s like looking
into a split image mirror,” he laughed, while his finger press in and down
knuckles deep.
“Well you just sit down and relax, Mama, and
have you some breakfast. If it’s alright
with you, I’ll take Bobbi & Robbi out to get them
some shine, and maybe we be lucky and find us some doper looking to share a
taste of the ganja he be sellng.”
“Ganja You mean . . .?”
“Yeah, that stuff. Ain’t no big thing. How do
you think people make a living around here?”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good thing, not at
all.”
“Oh yes mam,
around here we got us only the best,” he said, effectively dodging the matter
of her expressed concern and stolled out anyway with
Bobbi perched high atop his left shoulder and Robbi
on the right, his fingers finding the itchy spot deep down inside they wanted
him to scratch.
As Mary sat and watched them leave with both
Bobbi & Robbi riding on his shoulders, she saw to
her shame, what it was that Nat was doing with his hands, his fingers, and his
tongue, licking their thighs. It was nothing if not an outright assault on all
that she knew to be right, yet her face was but a blank.
"Why,"you
might ask? Why didn't she say something, do something, anything to stop the
assault on her kids. I mean, as things
were, everything was so blatantly out in the open, that say nothing made her
feel down right pimpish!
But what was it you'd have her do? With her
whole 'make-or-brake-it' life in Nat's, Mister Fix-its’ hands, what choice had
she? Leastwise if she ever hoped to stay
out of the bread line, and secure a future worthy of her fatherless kids.
Now, I know all this might sound a tidbit
dire, and indeed it was. But then again,
what better place is there to come to know dire than on
"Hey boy, that’s some mighty fine
shit,” Nat, Moses James said to the street kid who’d just sold them the dope.
The kid, perhaps 14, about a year or so
older than the twins, was blowing smoke into the mouth of first Robbi, then Bobbi who had her ankles wrapped around his
neck so he could blow smoke into that mouth too!
----------
Early the next morning Mary was sitting at
the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and listening to the kids do what kids
do in their room when the trucks pulled up out front.
This was day one. Tear Down Day, the day when Nat, the Black
Moses and his chums were to begin the process of Tearing out the interior of the
once grand old lady of Dire St., and Rebuild her to look every bit the beauty
she once was.
And meant men; lots of men with skills and
muscle and big ‘Tools’, not to mention trucks and dumpsters outside to carry away
all the rubble. And that brings us back
to the moment where we find Mary in the kitchen nursing her morning tea as the
trucks rolled up, and the big burly men who rode them, jumped off and walked
into her home.
It all looked a bit more than she had
envisioned it. After Nat, the Moses, had explained to her what
was about to happen, she somehow was left with the impression that the men he’d
chosen to work were professionals. Men
who wore starched uniforms with clipboard in hand and with teeth gleaming. Not crude, vulgar ingrates spitting out chew while squeezing &
kneading their crouch as they walked pass.
“These are my Bros,” Nat James said while
wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
See here, this is my roofer,
But, before you be needing a
rebuild you’ll first be needing the likes of Juju Jefferson, Tank Fracklin, and
of course, Stretch, ‘Slam Dunk’ Jackson, my wrecking crew who are here to do
what they do best. Gut this place!
Please step forward fella’s and give a tip of the hat to the lady.”
“Trust me, with this gang, the
“So
you see, Moms, with me at your back, you ain’t got shit to worry about . . .”
-------
CHAP 4
Famous last words:
Later that day after ‘the crew’ finished
their assessment and left
for the day, Mary retreated to the kitchen for her cup of tea.
It was then after hearing a shouting match
going on outside on the street below that she ventured a look only to see two
men roughing it up like two dogs fighting over the same bitch in heat. It was
nasty business to be sure, but that wasn’t whys Mary lost her grip on her cup
of tea, sending it crashing down onto the floor.
No, what caused her to grow near faint was
what she saw when she looked across street in front of Bosco's
Peep show
It
was none other than a starry-eyed Bobbi & Robbi and
behind them stood Juju
“You dropped your cup,” Nat James said to
Mary, pointing out the obvious as he came up alongside. “Need some help cleaning it up?”
“No, but tell me, isn’t that the man you
hired?” She asked, pointing down upon the misfit, out of place, trio below.
“Yeah, Juju, he’s cool. He’s on my wrecking crew, my man who was born
with a sledgehammer in one hand and a jackhammer in the other, and a need to
destroy burnt into his psyche. He’s out playing because tomorrow he starts
ripping out the innards out of this place, and I’m talking, “look out Jack, the
beast has been released.”
-----------
Chapter 3
Juju & Crew Do the Ripping &
Shredding & Bring On the Havoc . . .
The following morning Mary Gray was shaken
out of bed by the ear popping sounds of hammers smashing into walls, plaster
crashing to the floor, and the thunderous cracking sound of splintering beams
and boards sent sailing like shrapnel down the hall.
Opening her bedroom door, she took a moment
to steel her resolve before attempting to walk the short distance to the
kitchen.
Needless to say, it was a duck and cover commando-like
operation all the way, her defensive posture giving way only after running head
long into Nat James’s Belly.
“Nat!’ she screamed to heard over the
ruckus, “This is a terror, nothing less, please, stop it, please, my god, that
splinter of wood you see embedded in my bedroom door would have struck me between
the eyes had I not ducked.”
“Sorry, can’t do. I told you, you’d fare
better if you were to lie down on the tracks to stop a runaway train,” he said loudly
& hurriedly as he, himself, just managed to duck out the way of a 2x4 that had
broken free from who knows where, and was now flying toward him like a six foot
long, 20 lb., missile that luckily missed him but hit the kitchen Bay Window
squarely, blowing the whole 8’x8’ section of the wall out onto the street.
“Where are my kids, Where are my kids,” Mary
Gray again started screaming hysterically, while looking right out on to Dire
St., where the brightly lite porn shops flickered
like fireflies in the night, and the whores who were giving a blow for 5 bucks
a go were looking at her square in the eye.
“Were are your kids?” Nat the Moses James countered, “How the fuck
do I know. If they ain’t been blown out onto the street
along with the rest of your house, I’d say, start digging through the rubble.”
And then it happened, starting at the top floor, the seventh floor,
the floor where Juju Jefferson was tearing out the sodden, mildew rotting timbers
and stripping away the plaster on the walls and ceiling, a job that need be
done, though carefully and forever mindful not to allow the debris to pile up on
the floor, else the flooring become unnecessarily stressed by the cumulative
weight.
But mindful of the hazard Juju was not, and
as a result, the timbers began to moan and creak, and sounding as it crying,
and the cross timbers beneath the floor sounded as if dying. And, in deed, that rotting, mildew ridden
wood did give way, causing the flooring to first start to sag, and then collapse
down upon the floor below it.
“Ka-boom!” The
whole house rattled and shook, and centering the explosion, a mushroom cloud of
pulverize plaster loomed ominously in the air.
It was a disaster upon a disaster, but worse
yet, the collapse of floors didn’t stop there.
In fact, the heavier the combine load the quicker each floor pancaked down until reaching the bottom floor where it
crashed right through. From the top to
the bottom of the 7 floor building, all that was left was a long column of
pulverize debris clouding the air.
From the view point of an outsider, it
looked a 5 alarm monster of disaster. From the view point of those inside, it looked
the world’s end. Especially to Mary Gray who was looking frantically for her children standing
as she was at ground zero, seeing, hearing, nothing but the voice of Nat, the
Moses James, calling out from somewhere nearby.
“Look up, look up at the hole in the ceiling!”
Nat’s voice cut though the fog.”
And so she did, and, indeed, the thickness of
the debris in the air did thin out where she had been told her to look. At least she could see well enough to spot
Juju
While below, penduluming back and forth on a rope that
The same could said of her brother, Robbi, who like his sister before, could and did
execute a most splendid Arabesque with the same
lolling tongue that spoke of his need for someone, anyone, to slide their fingers
deep down inside him, only not in the top side, but bottom side, something Juju
Jefferson and the whole of the wrecking crew couldn’t get enough of, given that
their indiscriminate tastes be what they be.
Well, think what you may, but rest assured
Mary wasn’t the least bit put-out by what she saw. To her, kids being as they be,
and passions being what they are, it is just another part in the making of
us. – Full Stop, sermon complete!
But those were thoughts for another time.
Right now, things were changing as was the cloud of debris. Thickening here, thinning there, and in the
process clouding over what vision she had of hers kids. But as things turn, it
mattered not. For it was exactly at that
moment when she felt the floor beneath her feet begin
to shift. The whole of the building, began to lean by degrees to the right, the arc of
decline growing steeper and steeper until she heard an eerily unnerving crunching
sound.
Looking
up to assess her new angle of repose, she saw the white walled interior of the tenement
next door through the hole her collapsing building had punched out on its way down.
And then, from of out the cloud of debris
that engulfed her, she heard Nat, the Moses James frightening call . . .
“RUN FOR FOR IT! THE PLACE IS ‘FINALLY’ COMING DOWN!” he
shouted with a hint of elation. And
then, but a breath a way . . .
-----
Chapter 4
Like a reflection in a mirror, all that is new
is but a reflection of the past
“Timber-r-r-r-r . . . !” Nat let loose with a victorious, wilding cry,
while Juju standing beside him, tossed his mighty demolition ax over his
shoulder and proudly, if not smugly, touted, “ Damn good work, dontcha think, boss?”
“Damn straight, my brother, and all in just
two days.”
“Yeah, and the bricks look to be in pretty
fine condition, too. They ought to bring
in a pretty penny, more than enough to cover the cost of the rebuild.”
“Oh, hell yeah! Nat’s Candy Land Strip Club will be styling. I mean, a great whorehouse is what it is, but
class is just that, class! ”
“What?” A thoroughly dumbfounded, Mary, just
managed to eke out. “The language, the
talk, I don’t understand.”
“What’s to know? Your place is a pile of
rubble, you’re now out on the street, and you’re absolutely penniless.” Whereas I got me my crew, and my plans, and I’m
a man on the go; I’m Nat, the black Moses James who just parted the waters over
your dumb ass, you cud chewing stupid cow!’
“But, I’m not going to hold that against you. So, if you play nice . . .”
“That’s right,” Juju cut in. He’s going to give you your very own room.”
“Yeah, that’s right, you tell her, buddy,”
said Nat, while slapping his buddy upon the back. “And don’t forget to tell her that I plan on
giving her kids, Bobbi and Robbi, a room of their own
too.”
“On each side of her
own room to be exact. But not to worry, I still plan on
making you my number one chicken in the coop.
Robbi will only be there for them southpaws. Them who like theirs topsy-turvy, while Bobbi will be there for
the righties; them who don’t so much like the reverse
plumbing. Leastwise, not as not as they love
the topside; the eye to eye side; her tears to his brutishly wicked side; her 8-ball
size titty to his
dog chomping mouth side!”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s like so Dope, my man,”
Juju intervened on behalf of the totally distraught woman. “Now, tell her the part that’s absolutely
raw. About the prepaid ticketed lines you’ve
been been thinking about. I mean, how righteous would that be. No more line jumping and fisticuffs, and no
more blue balls from missing their turn gifting mama or Bobbi or Robbi with a bowl of hand-made nut soup for not shedding the
tears when asked to clean them up back there where the sun don’t shine.”
“Oh yes, working on
a full belly only makes for good business.”
“Good for Mary, the whore, too,” Juju
replied, throwing in his two bits worth.
“Yeah, and that’s not to mention her two ravenous half-link harlot’s who just
loves sucking on cock.” That’s like paradise to those hungry balls draining nymphs,
needing the nutrients as they do.”
“Sure thing there, buddy,” give me five,”
Nat the Moses James replied. Then after
slapping hands, he turned and looked the way of the weeping, broken, woman . .
.”
“Huh!
Feeling sorry for yourself are you?
Well, forget it, Mary, this is
“But you knew that, you were told that, just
as Rose Winifred had, yet you still choose to bet the house on your chances of
beating Mother Corruption at her own game.
Tish, Tish”
“Well now, take my advice, learn from your
kids. Just lie back, spread you legs and
politely ask, ‘please Sir, may this dumb mutt have another bone’ . . .”
---
Das ende
by Hunsi
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