Thursday, October 19, 2006

The Shooting


Bobby pulled out his large barrelled shooter with a flick of his wrist, "Ok you boisterous bitch," he snarled, "listen up and listen up good, cause ole Bobby is gonna shoot you in the face if its the last thing his rotten soul does before it chokes."

The woman was lying there, naked, with her legs apart and juice between her legs. Her hands were over her mouth, covering up her two bit fear, "Don't, dont shoot me Mr, I'll do anything, anything Mr.."

Bobby smiled as those words lingered. He thought about pushing the tip of his shooter back into her cunt before he pulled back out to shoot her in the face. He let this swirl around his crop but it didn't rouse him whatsoever. Nope, not one bit. All he needed to do was shoot her in the face and that was that. It was simple, as simple as the act of shitting in a can.

"You got nothing lady, nothing that could make me shoot this thing anywhere else but that pretty little face of yours."

And boy what a pretty little face this woman owned. She had curves in all the right places and lips that looked like they could suck a skeleton right out of a prick. Bobby felt his shooter twinge between his large hands. The woman uncovered her mouth. She sat up some thrusting her breasts towards Bobby. They were large, firm and rounded, hanging there as wonderfully as the Gardens of Babylon. Bobby felt about tending those delicate rose buds, of diving into the bush and planting his seed. Of ravaging this patch whose perfume drifted around them. The lady fluttered her large eyes at Bobby with absolute want. She did it submissively, with a yearning so momentously potent that it could've stopped the sea from rolling in if it wanted to. Wild thoughts leaped through Bobby's mind. His hands began shaking, twitching. Bobby's eyes clamped shut, his body tightened as the tip of his shooter shook and without being able to control it the piece went off in his hands. Bobby released an almighty groan of pleasure as his being shuddered. He exhaled deeply, joyfully, magnificently, and looked down. His shooter was still rock hard in his hands and the womans face was covered in spunk.

"Oh Mr..." she gasped, "you shot me, you shot me real good!"



Matthew Coleman









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