Hungover

He reminisced over his last visit to the strip club. Him and his lady were on the outs that night. He needed action to avoid a jackin’ spree. Throwing his hand was a vice that gripped til they were broken. Betting it all that he was thorough enough to be rewarded without his bread, stuffing deep in all lips and cheeks. Instead, he left with hook’in money.

Down an alley, animals make home, he pounded in a fit- like he was trying to beat shame. Her moans, now that he was really, really, thinking back on it, were stroking for a tip much bigger than his.

From my Freaky Friday Collection