b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Off Topic » Post 1719729 | Search
This is a question Off Topic

Are you a QOTWer? Do you want to start a thread that isn't a direct answer to the current QOTW? Then this place, gentle poster, is your friend.

(, Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
Pages: Latest, 836, 835, 834, 833, 832, ... 1

« Go Back | See The Full Thread

WINSTON CHURCHILL RAPAGE & CUMSHOTS
Now, I quite like putting things up my arse in the name of getting off.

But there’s a limit. There really fucking is...

A few years back I was out in the salubrious confines of Coombe Abbey, Coventry, with my then girlfriend, Scouse Emma. It was a hot day, a very hot day. We had the customary 99 with added strawberry sauce (its great being an adult – you get to bat kids out the way in the queue and make out you’re the hardest fucker in the entire fucking world). Emma fed the ducks. I did a spot of duck bating (take a whole slice of bread and lob it at the feet of the smallest preplexed-looking semi-aquatic fucker, then watch with glee as the others waddle over like fat Travis Bickles’ and kick the shit out of it). After a few parents of the smaller kids shouted at me for being a cunt and having made a little girl cry when she witnessed firtshand some hardcore, 18 cert, duck-related gang violence, Emma and I decided to go for a leisurly stroll further into the lovely woods that line the duckpond. The smell of bark and leaves and the sweet kiss of the sun made us feel relaxed and at peace...

...and incredibly fucking horny.

Emma was wearing a whispy summer dress, quite short, and as she walked infront I became mezmerized by the hypnotic sway of her lovely come-hither buttocks as they danced under the slight fabric. I focused in on her arse crack, which had developed a little sweat what with the heat and the walking and then suddenly something occured to me:

“Emma,” I say, still staring at her glorious arse. “Are you wearing any knickers?”

She stops, turns round: “Too hot for knickers,” she says with an evil grin. “And look at this.” Emma glances round, making sure nobody else is about and hitches down the straps of her dress. The flimsy fabric falls away and her magnificent puppies bound out, bouncing and swaying and almost yelping for some sweet Spanky attention. She jiggles a bit and giggles at me.

I struggle to get my phone out so I can take a photo of this happy scene, to record it for posterity - something to show the grandchildren; but Emma quickly pulls her dress back up and flashes me a sly i-wanna-fuck smile. And I realise with rising excitement that she is completely, utterly, absolutley naked under those clothes...

“Do you fancy finding somewhere... a bit more... secluded?” Emma asks.

I stride up to her, grab her hand, and march her further into the wood like a man on a fucking mission.

Eventually we find a spot off the beaten track. Emma lays down in the soft, warm moss and lifts up her dress and starts tickling her growler. She spreads her legs and even as I’m wrestling to remove my jeans and pants I can hear the unmistakable, sexy sloppy sound of her fingers playing over her sopping wet lady bits.

I dive on top and we start doing some incredibly romantic, touching, memorable, poignant fucking.

“Oooh, you like that don’t you, you dirty bastard,” Emma breathes as she scrapes her fingernails over my arse. “Fuck, yeah! “ Then she looks deep into my eyes and says: “Do me doggy style, Spanky.”

I slide out of her, she gets on all fours and sticks her peach of an arse in the air, I thank the Lord for the bounty I am about to receive and then I guide my spam dagger up her gooey twat.

It’s great doing it this way – it means I can scan the woods for any approaching people, like a sexy merekat, as I’m grabbing Emma’s hips and very lovingly pummelling away. Soon I get a bit tired, my knees are on some twigs or fuck knows what, so I lay ontop of her, still pumping away, and splay my arms either side of her shoulders, my hands palm down on the earth for support.

And we remain like this for a couple of minutes, happily fucking away, blowing flies off my face, licking sweat off Emma’s back like a guddun, feeling my cock fill with baby batter with each and every stroke.

I could feel I was about to cum and it was fucking marvellous.

Now, the next part happened in The Matrix style super-slow-motion. It probably only lasted about five seconds, but in my mindseye it seemed to last a couple of fucking years.
As I’m busy enjoying the fresh air, the sun spotting through the trees and casting weird shadows in the foliage, with this incredibly hot and horny Scouse girl under me, sex-swearing like a docker, acting like some kind of fuck-table for my amusement, I suddenly feel an incredible dead weight slam onto my back from behind. With so much force that my cock rammed further inside Emma’s valley of a thousand pleasures and I thought I might be stuck up there forever – we’d end up on the circus freakshow circuit as a pair of weird sexy conjoined twins.

Then I heard the slobbering and I felt something hard and wet slam against my arse cheeks, rimming my chocolate starfish, hammering away like a Black & Decker. I felt something hot and rough go a little way inside me and I leapt backwards and away from my girlfriend with a wet plop.

And in doing so - what with the sudden excitement or shock, or the fact that something warm and hard had just knocked on the door of my backdoor love tunnel - not sure which – but I ejaculated a great slow-motion arch of glistening gonad goo all over Emma’s arse and back and layed a nice load of cock conditioner over her lovely new hairdo. – Under any other circumstances I would’ve thought: Hmmm, impressive cumshot there, matey – well done, have a gold star.

But instead I screamed like a girl.

And Emma screamed, well, like a girl too.

And I looked round sharply and saw Winston fucking Churchill hanging onto my shoulders, slobbering and panting with the kind of rancid breath that could kill a German at a hundred paces...

Only it wasn’t Winston Churchill.

It was a fucking HUGE bulldog that resembled the esteemed former wartime PM, its great big paws wrapped round my neck, its wet lolling tongue dripping drool between my shoulder blades. My God, it was an ugly fucker...

The force of the semi succssessful canine rape had left me reeling and senseless. I shrugged the fucker off my back and he – oh it was very definately a HE – padded happily over to Emma as she lay with her arse in the air trying to right herself. The bulldog then proceeded to greedily lick my hot sticky load from where it was pooling in a sticky cum lake between Emma’s delectible arse valley.

“Arggg! Gettitoff!!!” She screamed.

And I hate to admit it, but I was ever-so-slightly turned on by the sight.

I could see the fucker was thinking about having a go on my girlfriend, it was sort of positioning itself for a rear mounting. Instictively I legged over and booted it up the arse.

It yelped and went running off into the wood back the way it had come.

And there was no other fucker there... the owner had obviously allowed this mut to roam free, to rape, pillage and shit on the paths, no doubt.

Emma and I struggled quickly into our clothes and walked in silence back towards the car. I looked at every dog on the way back and shuddered inside. We got a few weird looks too in return. We were a little dishevelled, and one time when I saw a bloke paying far too much attention to Emma as we walked past, I turned to her, noticed something, and said helpfully:

“You’ve got cum in your hair.”

“Shuttup!” she spat back through clenched teeth.

Eventually, when we got back to the Cleo, the metal and glass protecting us from random acts of wanton unwarrented beastiality, Emma said: “Let’s never mention this again, ok?”

I nod, “Sounds good to me,” and as we drive off I try and lighten the mood a little. “Now, if it was a good looking dog like Lassie it might’ve been a very different situation...”

Emma was not amused. She simply gave me a curt and clipped: “Cunt,” under her breath and kept her eyes firmly on the road. There was something bothering her, something on her mind. When we were closer to my parents house she turns to me and says: “Why did you cum when that dog mounted you?”

And, in all honesty, I didn’t have an answer...
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:09, 2 replies, latest was 12 years ago)
tl;dr
Probably something about quending.
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:10, Reply)
It's a spanky post, isn't it?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:17, Reply)
Dunno.
I haven't read it.
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:18, Reply)
Of course it is you fucken prickname
A/C
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:18, Reply)
You heading down for the bash this month?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:18, Reply)
Too skint.
Ridiculously so in fact.
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:19, Reply)
Bad times.
How is the DJ-ing going?
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:23, Reply)
next gig end of October

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:23, Reply)
Do you have one of those wakki DJ names?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:26, Reply)
When I play techy breakbeat I do.
I'll be playing vintage hip hop this time round and I should really sort out a nom de plume.
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:30, Reply)
DJ Quend Face

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:32, Reply)
I think not.

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:32, Reply)
DJ Chicks Dig It?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:35, Reply)
DJ Brittas?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:36, Reply)
DJ Empire.
*Live, from the leisure centre*
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:40, Reply)
DJ Windowcleaner?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:40, Reply)
DJ Anus?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:41, Reply)
DJ Nus?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 23:40, Reply)
DJ Egg?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:41, Reply)
DJ Crow?
davidguy.brinkster.net/goaste/djcrow001.html
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:42, Reply)
DJ Dozer*
*But spell 'Dozer' - 'Massive bum bandit with the bad aids and a wrist like John Inman'.
(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:44, Reply)
Nom de disque, surely.

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:36, Reply)
Nom de Plumed'zer?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:38, Reply)
Prune qui Dort

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:42, Reply)
Shouldn't this be in QOTW?

(, Tue 4 Sep 2012, 22:17, Reply)

« Go Back | See The Full Thread

Pages: Latest, 836, 835, 834, 833, 832, ... 1