doing it in the missionary position... part nine

my immediate thoughts were to ditch dippy, grab pokey and run like fuck.

so i did.

 unfortunately, dippy had the same idea.

so the both of us ran head first into each other and fell on the floor.

pleasantries were exchanged. we shook hands and decided to stick the original plan. we sent pokey to the door to scout. he gave us the all-clear beep (i assume... all his fucking beeps sound exactly the same).

and out we went.

doing it in the missionary position... part eight

it is said, ad nauseam, that under great stress, people are capable of much more than they ever suspected. they can summon unknown reserves of courage, strength and willpower. they can surmount nearly any obstacle, through sheer force of determination. they can run farther, swim faster, think gooder and strategize craftier.

dippy and i are not those people.

those people sound like assholes.

doing it in the missionary position... part seven

'dippy... you terrible cunt. you magnificent loser. your fabulous shit. you are a reprobate and a liar. how i've misjudged you!'

i leapt across the table and gave him a huge hug. pokey was getting excited too, ejaculating some kind of fracking fluid onto dippy's boots.

'yes yes... fuck off, then. here's the deal: you remember i went to prison, right?' he asked, clearly not expecting an answer. i interrupted...

'of course i do, dippy darling! i sent you there,' i cheerfully replied.

'... well, as you might imagine, prison life and i didn't quite get along. so i made deals.

'i bet you did. sexy deals, right? were they sexy deals? i bet they were sexy deals!'

doing it in the missionary position... part six

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