Re: hey, we like mexicans... on THIS

Re: hey, we like mexicans... on THIS!

the stench of bean-dip 09-02-15
(actual photos of the author, no, its NOT popeye-x)

I hear the word "Mexican" - in any context - and I inadvertently feel a stirring in my nether-tether, reminding me instantly of the amazing feeling of forcing my chupacabra slowly, bit by bit, up the virginal vestibule of Maria, an ebony-eyed beauty I met and courted for nearly a year before she allowed me to give her a slow ride on the baloney-pony. I'm not kidding. It was probably the most memorable pure FEELING of my life, straight from the limbic portion of the caveman part of my brain, unattached to any other appendages or sensations; just sink that fucker all the way up that steaming, down-haired snatch and try to pound her head through the bedroom wall. Eventually, we did that - many, many times - but that first aching SHOVE, when I pulled those gorgeous long legs apart as wide as they'd go and pressed my pelvis forward just far enough for the tippy-tip of my ramrod to barely be engulfed by her sweet pussy lips, and slowly - oh, my god how slowly - worked the head into that tight, elastic channel, readying my dog-brain for the ultimate sensation of her whole body gripping the shaft like a warm, wet hand - that's what I remember. Not the fuckin' necessarily, or her mother screaming and slapping my ass, screeching something about getting Maria's confirmation dress and cute little white socks gooey from spewie, or having to bend over and rush a little to get behind the altar, so the parishioners wouldn't see the blood and drying cum on the front of my cassock... Oh, yes. Good times. That's what I think of when I hear the word "Mexican." Of course, since they transferred me, I can't find good Mexican anywhere around here. These fucking Inuit only want to eat raw seal eyeballs and shit. But ask me what I think of when I hear the word "blubber." Go ahead, ask me...

21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 X 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1