Date: Sun, 16 Oct 2005 23:42:44 -0400
From: Steve Griffin <knack6@hotmail.com>
Subject: Pissing on the Punk

The following story is fiction only. Not applicable for real life. In real
life you should use condoms and think carefully about what you are doing.

Please don't read this if you are not 18 or older than 18.

Please e-mail me if you enjoyed the story.

-----

I work a hard job, suit and tie, a slave to the man, you know how that goes.
I'm almost 40 and any real relationship prospects dried up back when I still
had time to dance all night and drop X. Now I have a decent, if overly hairy
body, a nice car, a good house, and a well-cultivated flower bed.

Or I USED to, until a few weeks ago. Something started pissing in my
petunias and ruined them. I thought it was a dog, or a cat, but last week I
saw some scrawny figure running out of my garden when I got home. So now I
knew who it was.

I got off early one night just to see this punk for myself. I turned all my
lights off, kept my car in the garage all day, and waited. About 7:30 the
punk showed up. I looked through the blinds and unconsciously licked my lips
as he pushed his baggy boardshorts down enough to whip out a huge, thick,
pierced dong and spray all over my now-destroyed petunias. No wonder he did
so much damage - he was spewing uring everywhere because of the Prince
Albert. Totally scattershot. I was angry, but I was so turned on by the hint
of a bubble butt and by that fat 8 inch monster that I was stroking myself
through my sweatpants.

Since he thought the coast was clear, the punk decided to go all the way. He
lowered his shorts to around his ankles, licked his right palm, and began
jerking himself off. He lifted his shirt, showing off his washboard abs as
he pinched his meaty, silver-dollar size tits. Damn he was a hot punk.
Shaved head, Satanic looking tats all over his smooth chest and arms, and
stark blue eyes. When he lowered two fingers to shove into his crack, and
then put them in his mouth to taste his odor, I came so hard the sweatpants
were Superglued to my 7 inches. I was in lust big time. He blew a huge load
all over the flower bed and then he laid down on the ground and passed out.
Maybe he was on drugs, I don't know.

I had had a few beers and I was brave - and I needed to piss. So I went out
to the yard and I took down my sweatpants. His face was so angelic with the
spotlight from my garden. He had a little drool around one side of his
mouth.

I squeezed my buns together and out came the first drops of piss. The
drizzle soon became a torrent and I was flooding his pouty lips and button
nose with my yellow stream. He flustered and sputtered, and opened his
mouth, unknowingly swallowing a huge amount of my acrid spray. While he
cursed at me I aimed for his sensitive nips and he just whimpered in between
his profanity.

He may have claimed to be upset, but his cock was meaner and beefier than
ever. So was mine. Before I could stop myself, I just took him into my mouth
and I shoved my own 7 inches onto his face. We 69ed for a while, and
unsurprisingly, he gave even better head than me. He had obviously done this
before. I got sick of the blowjob and while I finished him up, I
repositioned myself so that my ass crack was directly on his beestung lips.
He had obviously given out rim jobs as well. Damn what a hot punk.

By that time, of course, he was close, and he yanked me hard all the way
onto his horse meat. A steaming load guzzled down my throat. I swallowed
every drop.

Right after he was done he pushed me off. Didn't even make eye contact. I
know those punks. They will tell you up and down that they aren't "fags",
that they don't kiss, but they will lick your shithole and drink your piss
and they give up their anal cherries at the first whiff of a joint.

I saw his bubble butt sprinting out of my garden that night. He probably
wanted to pretend we'd never met. But I just smirked as I held his slimy
Prince Albert in my hand. I knew he'd be back. For the dick ring, and for my
ass.

Punks are so predictable.