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Banged for my Pokéstop
About the Author
Copyright © 2010 by Jack Stratton
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Writing Dirty Press writingdirty.com
It was Monday, and a particularly shitty one. Not only was the temperature in the high 90s, but there were thunderstorms in the distance. Mark’s train was late coming and going. Some jerk who was looking at his phone instead of where he was going knocked over Mark’s coffee. Hell, everyone seemed to be looking at their phones. Everything sucked.
Mark had just about enough of it by the time five o’clock rolled around and when he got home he turned the air conditioners in his bedroom and living room both on high. Within minutes the place was bearable and he stripped off his suit, got into jeans and a t-shirt, and sat down to relax in front of his computer.
He browsed a few local pizza places’ websites, thinking about dinner, then some news sites, which made him both angry and depressed, and then finally he settled on his standard stress reliever; porn.
On his large computer monitor, two thick thighed girls in knee high socks, bunny ears, and nothing else, wrestled for control of a Hitachi.
“It’s my turn!” one of them whined dramatically.
Thankfully the two soon agreed to share it.
With a wide grin, Mark popped open his jeans and wiggled them down to his knees. The two girls moaned and whimpered as they both ground their pussies against the buzzing toy between them.
That’s when the doorbell rang.