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Troubles and Treats

Page 44

With one hand still clutching her ass, I pull her down so I can rub the head of my c**k against her. She’s wet and warm and even though she hasn’t shaved down there since before Billy was born, I don’t give a f**k. I love her pu**y whether it’s smooth or has a  p**n  bush fro. As I use my hand to glide myself back and forth through her, she starts to move her hips to create more friction, and we both moan against each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. I wanna f**k you like an animal.”

She stops the movement of her hips and pulls her face away from mine.

“Don’t quote Nine Inch Nails when we’re about to have sex. It’s creepy. I don’t want to think about animals having sex. Remember that time we saw my cousin’s dogs having sex? Oh my God, I had nightmares for weeks. I kept dreaming we would have sex and your penis would be stuck inside me until you finish like those stupid dogs,” Jenny complains.

“Sorry, no more animals f**king talk. Let’s just talk about us f**king. Right now. In the car,” I tell her as I move the head of my penis to her opening and push my hips up slightly so I enter her just a little bit.

“Son of Al Sharpton,” I moan as she pushes her body down a little more and I go deeper.

Jenny doesn’t hesitate to slide the rest of the way down on my cock, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t blow my load right this second.

She grips onto my hair and yanks me towards her mouth.

“You’re such a dirty whore,” I mutter against her lips.

She stops and pulls back to look at me again. “Eew, don’t say that.”

I look at her in confusion for a minute. She’s always thought that was hot. In the past, she usually begs me to call her a dirty whore. I want my dirty whore!

“It’s just weird. I’m a mom now,” she explains.

“You were a mom the last time I called you a dirty whore,” I complain with a pout.

I know, I know. My penis is finally home and I’m complaining. But you don’t understand! This is our thing! She’s my dirty whore and I’m her big, bad slut.

“Just…I don’t know, do it normal. Call me Jenny and I’ll call you Drew.”

Normal? What the f**k is normal?!

“What? But that doesn’t even make sense! We’re not normal. We’re dirty and filthy, and I don’t know what is going on right now!”

I think my penis is dying. I’m inside my wife’s vagina and I’m starting to go soft. No, no, no! This is NOT happening right now!

“Can’t we just have vanilla sex?” she asks as she leans back from me as far as she can while I’m still inside of her.

“Vanilla is white! WE’RE NOT WHITE! We’re…fuck! We’re Napoleon or whatever the f**k the three colored one is. We’re f**king Superman or the chocolate kind with peanut butter in it. I don’t even know what vanilla means! WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”

I know I’m yelling while my wife is on top of me, naked from the waist down but this is a complete and utter mind f**k right now.

“You’re not hard anymore,” she tells me as she looks down where we’re still, sort of, joined.

GAAAAAH I’m not listening! I’m not listening! I’m always hard! I’m hard when I’m grocery shopping in the frozen food section. Son of a motherless goat!

“Quick, call me a slut. HURRY!” I yell.

“I’m not calling you a slut. This was a bad idea,” she says as she lifts herself off of my wilted willy and crawls over to her side of the car, pulling her dress down as she goes.

NOOOOOOOO bring it back!

Jenny opens her car door and gets out, and I stare down at my limp dick in disgust.

“You are a disgrace to all of penis kind. That’s what you are. You couldn’t just keep it up for like five more minutes. Oh no, you had to be a quitter. QUITTERS NEVER WIN!”

I angrily shove my dick back in my pants and get out of the car and come face-to-face with Mr. Naked Guy from across the street.

“Hey there, buddy! I saw you guys pull in and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. My name’s Jackson,” he says with a smile as he sticks his hand out for me to shake.

The only good thing about this moment right now is the knowledge that the hand I’m touching this douchebag with is the one that was just on my dick.

“Hey, Jackson! How were those Snickerdoodles yesterday?” Jenny asks him as she comes around to my side of the car.

Who the what? Snickerdoodles?

“Oh my God, those were the best cookies I’ve ever had. Seriously, Jenny. You can bake a mean cookie,” Fuckson tells her with a big smile.

I know his name is Jackson. Shut up. Bitch ate my Snickerdoodles. He’s Fuckson from now on.

“Well, my girlfriend owns a bakery so I get all the inside tips,” she says with a giggle.

A FUCKING GIGGLE.

“Oh, before I forget, tell Veronica my niece left Barbie’s giant Malibu house at my place the other day, so I’ll bring it over on Wednesday for our play date.”

The f**k you say!

“Oh my God, she will absolutely freak out!” Jenny tells him.

Fucky McFuckson says his good-byes and jogs back over to his house, whistling the whole way.

Who the f**k whistles while he walks? The Seven Dwarfs, that’s who. Fuckson is a dwarf. He’s Fuck Head Dwarf; the sneaky bastard dwarf that tries to steal wives and children and makes them suddenly want vanilla instead of Mint Chocolate Chip. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">

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