Of Doves and Witches, Part 6

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group


Of Doves and Witches, Part 6

I was sitting on the (cauldron) commode that Al Sharpton had once owned and I had bid on. I was going to grow a tomato plant there eventually. I was listening to an old Simon and Garfunkel song. I had just been promoted to the Wizard of Clarabell. The exalted leader of the cult. My sperm couldn't keep up.

Meanwhile, the rotisserie was turning Rhonda slowly on the spit. Rhonda had applied for part-time work here at my shop.


***
Rochelle looked on. Her pussy was crooning like Hank Williams singing Lovesick Blues. I slapped some freshly chewed Redman Tobacco on her vibrating labia. She was getting all worked up eating bratwurst and a horseradish sandwich. It seemed as if her clitoris missed a beat and vapor locked on a "lay-ee-dee."  It was sort of discouraging because I was taping the sound of rutting.

She had dipped her toenails into a can of 10w40 motor oil so that she would not scratch my back as she wrapped her legs around me. I don't think it helped her toenail fungus though.

Her psoriasis started acting up and she had to scooch across the floor like she had worms. Just like my cat of no name. I had to pick oak splinters from her ass. Then her big tits got tangled up with the TV rabbit ears. So our rutting inadvertently interrupted reruns of the Laverne and Shirley Show. I learn later, that we had won an Emmy.

 


Submitted: July 09, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Atticus Abbey. All rights reserved.

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