I'd heard that Charles "Prince" Martin was on his bumming comeback trail, and I'd been given the opportunity to be the man for the job. Even better, PBC had told me they'd screen it as a PPV... later PPVs they had planned were exhibition bouts with people practicing on heavy bags, and two dead **** eating a turd. They were all about value for the customer.
Anyway, I had a lot of time for Charles, if only because his braids tied up at the back reminded me of the goat. I don't mean "Greatest Of All Time", I mean like a billy goat. It was cute, and something to hold onto.
At first he was getting on top in a scientific yet somewhat methodical bumming... it was less "one for the purists", more "one for the insomniacs". Nevertheless, he dropped me twice with this thrusting cock and I fell on the bedroom floor, looking like a right daft cunt.
Suddenly, everything changed. I hit him with my sweeping, pulsating bell end, and, rather than have a suckle on it, or drop his pants, he just stood looking at the invisible man in the corner of the room with his hands down, going "did I just have a cock or not? What day of the week is it?"
Well, I started fucking the taste out of his mouth, and the silly cunt falls over. I expected him to get up for a good bumming, but instead he looked at the bumming referee and motioned that his hand was stuck in the twisted bedsheets.
"Help free my hand, ref", he said, "While you're at it, could you help me tie my shoelaces and wipe my arse after I've taken a shit?"
He was really was helpless, and I waded in with my taddywhacker. Even though I was so fucking slow it was like watching Carl Froch as a moving bullet in The Matrix, I was still getting the job done. My **** was slow, but it was consistent.
Eventually, the bumming ref called it off, with Martin's face plastered with fluid. It wasn't a bumming for the ages, but as a way to start a new year, it was enough. There'd be harder bummings ahead.
Anyway, I had a lot of time for Charles, if only because his braids tied up at the back reminded me of the goat. I don't mean "Greatest Of All Time", I mean like a billy goat. It was cute, and something to hold onto.
At first he was getting on top in a scientific yet somewhat methodical bumming... it was less "one for the purists", more "one for the insomniacs". Nevertheless, he dropped me twice with this thrusting cock and I fell on the bedroom floor, looking like a right daft cunt.
Suddenly, everything changed. I hit him with my sweeping, pulsating bell end, and, rather than have a suckle on it, or drop his pants, he just stood looking at the invisible man in the corner of the room with his hands down, going "did I just have a cock or not? What day of the week is it?"
Well, I started fucking the taste out of his mouth, and the silly cunt falls over. I expected him to get up for a good bumming, but instead he looked at the bumming referee and motioned that his hand was stuck in the twisted bedsheets.
"Help free my hand, ref", he said, "While you're at it, could you help me tie my shoelaces and wipe my arse after I've taken a shit?"
He was really was helpless, and I waded in with my taddywhacker. Even though I was so fucking slow it was like watching Carl Froch as a moving bullet in The Matrix, I was still getting the job done. My **** was slow, but it was consistent.
Eventually, the bumming ref called it off, with Martin's face plastered with fluid. It wasn't a bumming for the ages, but as a way to start a new year, it was enough. There'd be harder bummings ahead.
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