Read Giggling Into the Pillow for Free Online Page A

missing
occasionally. I charge him, easily batting him aside with my
powerful forearm and kneeling on his forehead. He rallies and
manages to bite through my calf before I capture him in a full
nelson and snap his spine with a clear “crack”. I drop him and wait
for the decision. The other cashiers fearfully gather their young
and retreat to the safety of the high shelves as the referee enters
the ring and holds my arm up high. The crowd goes wild, I've made a
dangerous enemy in Vinnie “Donuts” Ballituchi for not taking a
fall, and I'm ready for love.
During my ordeal you've taken the time to
make yourself more comfortable, changing into a maddeningly
provocative black lace teddy, spreading credit card charge slips to
soften the countertop, turning the register light down low. I
stride towards you and sweep you up in my arms to kiss you softly
on the lips before screaming like a cheerleader and collapsing into
a heap (forgot about my calf wound). I run my fingers through your
hair until they're clean and then I caress your face, kiss you
softly, run my tongue lightly between your lips and teeth, casually
grab a handful of hooter, and whisper sweet sentiments in your
mouth.
You're breathing heavily now and you run
your hands freely over my back, face, ass, and, accidentally,
Hector the bagboy. You expertly dress my wounds and begin running
your tongue over me, licking in varying rhythms across my face and
ankles. Blood from your mutilated ear drips on my neck and I enjoy
the sensuous feel of the hot liquid rolling down my body. We are
becoming as one, at least when seen from the back.
The excitement builds as we tear each
other’s clothes off, fondling, kissing and knuckle-cracking as we
go, to land in a tangled naked clump behind the registers. I unhook
your bra joyously, delighting in the feel of your incredible
breasts as they come tumbling out into my hands, shooting out past
my head and into the aisle. You rip my pants off bodily. I
passionately align your driveshaft-to-differential flange
matchmarks, install bolts, washers and nuts, and torque to 31
foot-pounds. Excited beyond belief by our need and dizzy from blood
loss, you sweep your mouth down my body and head straight for my
proud John Thomas, missing by inches and going three miles out of
your way until the next exit. You double back, and stopping to spit
the gravel out, you wrap your fingers around my heat-seeking
moisture missile and begin.
Oh, you’re a marvel, and everything I ever
fantasized about; except you have all of your own teeth. You lick
softly and dartingly, smiling at me. You kiss the length of it
until I begin moaning, and then tease me by pulling away and
leaving for coffee and a quick haircut. Finally, long after I can't
stand any more and begin trying to find someone else, you grasp my
willie firmly and engulf me to the hilt (much like my enemy, the
hideous shark). Oh god, the feel of it! Your hot, wet, willing
mouth, your talented tongue, the indescribable feel of your velvety
soft uvula bouncing off the head of my manmeat.
Okay, now that I think about it, when I
fantasized about you, you were usually tied to a Burger King deep
fryer and I was dripping onion ring batter all over your insteps as
you sang the Meow Mix song over and over in a sultry voice. But
this is pretty good too.
Anyway, there you are huffing my choad,
licking quickly around the sensitive underside to rise up and
forcefully take thirteen inches all the way down your throat, which
causes me to cry out since I only have five. I can feel the need
surging within me as my boiling juices race from my balls and surge
(did I use surge already? Okay, okay, fire? Spurt? Ooze? Rush?
Rush. ) rush up my enraged whanger, only to stop before I lose
control completely due to your expert timing and your thoughtful
placement of a hose clamp. Your raise your head up, smiling
innocently and turning your head slightly to hock out an errant
hair and reposition your gum.
I push you down,