Archive for the 'Humor' Category

Bad Bradley

The car was parked far back in the lot. As they made their way, Kelly Mae could feel her stiletto sliding in the gravel and before she could catch herself — or before Bradley (if that was his real name) could catch her — her foot slid sideways, pushing down and twisting, snapping the heel.

“Well, Bradley, what are we going to do about this,” Kelly Mae asked, waving the stiletto in front of his face, the broken heel precariously bobbing back and forth.

“I’m sure you can think of something, darlin’ geerl,” Bradley grinned as he grabbed for her breast.

Kelly Mae shoved his hand away. “What in the hell do you think you are doing? You offered me a ride. A ride home only. Did I say you could touch me? Where was that fucking hand when I tripped in the gravel?”

“Aww, baby geerl, don’t be that way.”

He reached again, and that is when Kelly Mae — tipsy but certainly not stupid — made up her mind. “Well, Bradley,” Kelly Mae cooed as she once again removed his grasping paw, “I just figured out what I am going to do with this broken stiletto. Let’s get to that car so you can drive me home, where I can show you.”

Bradley, even in his drunken state, thought that sounded like one hell of an idea.

And that is how, an hour or so later, Bradley found himself bound on his back across Kelly Mae’s bed. He wasn’t concerned. In fact, he thought he’d hit the jackpot and finally got himself one of those kinky girls he saw and read about on the internet.

“What you doin’ now, hunney,” Bradley asked when Kelly Mae pulled up his left leg and tied his ankle to the bedpost.

“Just never you mind, Sugar. You’ll see in just a minute or so.”

Bradley watched in wonder and as Kelly Mae pulled up his right leg, tying that ankle to the other bedpost.

“Well, Mr. Man, seems you got yerself a big ol’ erection goin’ there,” Kelly Mae smiled has she rubbed her hand up and down his cock.

“I shure do, geerl. But how am I gonna fuck you like this?”

“Oh, Bradley, you ain’t gonna fuck me,” Kelly Mae said, reaching for the broken stiletto and showing it to him.

“I’m gonna fuck you, you son of a bitch.”

And then she was shoving the long, slim heel into Bradley’s ass.

What Sarah Said

What I remember most is the country music wheedling and yodeling out of his Bose stereo (alpha-male black, of course) as he slid his dick in and out of my snatch.

After that, how could I respect him in the morning?

So, fuck the jag, fuck the cowboy hat and tight jeans I found so appealing in my admittedly tipsy state. The night was a bust and my cowboy ended up being just another frog disguised as a prince.

He did have a huge cock, though. I remember that, too.

Lot of good it did the two of us.

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