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Story No. 121
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The "Tripple-ripple-butt-plug" just wasn't cutting the moo-tard anymore, so I resolved to
dance the funky chicken.
one, two, three...knock your knees and spin around, again and again until giddy and giggling with delight!
I jumped up for the handle but it was out of reach and I just sunk into nervous despair.
Tugging nervously and his urine soaked beard his twitched uncomfortably trying not to seem too eager.
In fact for a while they just stood there watching the sun set feeling their own inflamed manhoods and wondering what it would be like to be underneath Carol Vorderman's Gusset.
thegit
Lee Anderson
Harold Bishop
