The odds of just about anything happening in space are so low that when something unusual happens, you have to start asking yourself who’s behind it and what their motives are. The crew of the shuttle stared out the viewports, stunned by the explosion

The odds of just about anything happening in space are so low that when something unusual happens, you have to start asking yourself who’s behind it and what their motives are. The crew of the shuttle stared out the viewports, stunned by the explosion

GaybrosGoneWild Gaycouplesgonewild

Now, Anyone Who Knows Me Knows I’m Not Usually One For Time Outdoors. And It’s Not Because I Have Some Deadly Allergy To The Sun (Even Vampires Can Get Around That With Five Minutes’ Thought) Or Because I’m Too Fat To Get Up Or Fit Through Doors

Muskwriter

March Was Unusually Warm, And The Raucous Sounds Of Bird And Insect Life On The Back Trails Put Me In Mind Of Some Deep Jungle, Even Though It Was Only The Path To The Tuesday Market. The Background Noises Of Nature Gave Way To The Even More Pervasive

I Was Trying To Sit Through My Last Class That Friday When My New Dick Started Acting Up. The One Thing About…Replacing Your Dick Every Time You Have Sex Is That Every New Dick Has Its Own Quirks—One Wouldn’t Cum Unless I Tugged Its Balls, One

I Was Only Slightly Miffed When Airport Security Confiscated My New Toy. On The Bright Side, It Was Only Because They Thought It Was A Weapon—They Didn’t Believe A Dildo Could Really Be That Big—And I Was Able To Make My Flight In Time Just By

It Was A Regular Disappointment To See, Every Morning, The Scale That Only Read 700 Pounds. I Used To Be A Lot Bigger—Filling A Bed With Over Half A Ton Of Immobile Ferret Flab—Till I Started Dying Regularly And The Doctor Said I Needed To Ease Up

I Work In The New Castle That They’ve Been Building On The Edge Of Town. I’d Thought, When I Saw The Posting, That It Might Be Some Cool Sort Of Ye Olde Renaissance Faire Or Something. But When I Showed Up To See What It Was All About, It Turned

I Used To Be Something Else. I Don’t Know What, Exactly. It Felt Like An Important Thought To Hold On To, Even Though I Wasn’t Really Sure What It Meant; All I Knew Was A) I’m A Pig, B) I Think I Know A Lot Of Things Pigs Aren’t Supposed To,

The Bus Was Not The Fastest Way To Go Downtown, But I Wasn’t Hurried Enough To Shell Out Extra For A Cab. While The Seats Were A Little Cramped For Someone Like Me Who’s Both Taller And Rounder Than Most People I Encounter On A Daily Basis, Most

Sometimes When You’ve Been At A Job For A Long Time, You Feel You’ve Pretty Much Seen Every Crazy Situation It Can Throw At You. In My Case, That Meant Every Manner Of Perverse Piping Job And Every Imaginable Clog Thereof. And Yet When I Was Contacted

Not A Lot Of People Will Tell You They Love Their Job And Mean It. They May Like Their Job, Sure, Especially Comparing It To Rough Times In The Past. And The Boss May Be Nice, The Clientele 99% Decent, And The Hours Okay, But It&Amp;Rsquo;S Still Work And

They’d Started Saying The Corn Maze Was Haunted. That Was Ridiculous, Of Course—Not Least Because Demons Were Way More Likely Than Ghosts, Especially Around Hallowe’en, And Nobody Was Reporting The Maze To Be Possessed. But There Was Something

© 2007-2021 www.adulthis.com