Name: Oaklilium 2013-02-18 22:25
My story hath befallen nigh the ides of November, 3178, Year of Our Lady Discord.
. . .
A most doughty of urges came over me as I had lain awake in my bed, and not a moment later I had surreptitiously fared my way to the dank cement basement of which I spent much of my time, the scent of petrichor about the chamber. I hastily clamber into the tattered office chair and jostle the mouse apace hither and thither, sluggishly breathing life into the monitor, giving me enough time to brood woefully over my rapidly waxing porn-addiction.
At last, my eyes painfully behold the intensely bright hues projected towards my pallid visage, and I load up some extreme live-action tentacle rape pornography. As baleful as a layman might think such material is initially, a fuck I do not simply bestow upon them.
Something seemed rather awry, a faint tipper-tapper I could hear, but only to a small extent. However, to the evocatively glamorous imagery I stroked my lithe knob, standing upright through my open zipper, increasing in speed as my excitement had. Just moments later, my body quailed to this stimulation, giving a good two jolts, bequeathing two spurts of my seed above my monitor and hitting the low ceiling ahead. I notice something a bit small fall to the floor to my right, but I take no heed of it. My body gives another jolt, although this time I caught the wiener-mucous in my fist. I was not yet done and over with.
Using the goop, I began to assuage myself once more, this time in a much more slippery manner. Upon my second orgasm, my knee jerked quite mightily, smashing into the underside of the desk on which my monitor stood. Such a clatter that was caused, that before I had time to think, I was absolutely swarmed in a horde of fist-sized moths. I swung and swung and struck and struck! I SCREAMED. To the center of the basement did I crawl hastily, taken to the fetal position, with many, many, many moths pasted to my cum-soaked hand and phallus. In the evening I did awake, to find the half-living moths' wings gently sweeping across my crusty skin. I would not have to prepare breakfast this day.
. . .
<3
. . .
A most doughty of urges came over me as I had lain awake in my bed, and not a moment later I had surreptitiously fared my way to the dank cement basement of which I spent much of my time, the scent of petrichor about the chamber. I hastily clamber into the tattered office chair and jostle the mouse apace hither and thither, sluggishly breathing life into the monitor, giving me enough time to brood woefully over my rapidly waxing porn-addiction.
At last, my eyes painfully behold the intensely bright hues projected towards my pallid visage, and I load up some extreme live-action tentacle rape pornography. As baleful as a layman might think such material is initially, a fuck I do not simply bestow upon them.
Something seemed rather awry, a faint tipper-tapper I could hear, but only to a small extent. However, to the evocatively glamorous imagery I stroked my lithe knob, standing upright through my open zipper, increasing in speed as my excitement had. Just moments later, my body quailed to this stimulation, giving a good two jolts, bequeathing two spurts of my seed above my monitor and hitting the low ceiling ahead. I notice something a bit small fall to the floor to my right, but I take no heed of it. My body gives another jolt, although this time I caught the wiener-mucous in my fist. I was not yet done and over with.
Using the goop, I began to assuage myself once more, this time in a much more slippery manner. Upon my second orgasm, my knee jerked quite mightily, smashing into the underside of the desk on which my monitor stood. Such a clatter that was caused, that before I had time to think, I was absolutely swarmed in a horde of fist-sized moths. I swung and swung and struck and struck! I SCREAMED. To the center of the basement did I crawl hastily, taken to the fetal position, with many, many, many moths pasted to my cum-soaked hand and phallus. In the evening I did awake, to find the half-living moths' wings gently sweeping across my crusty skin. I would not have to prepare breakfast this day.
. . .
<3