” “But who the hell are you and how do you know me?” I asked again. “Like I said I’m the guy that is going to fuck you and make you my perso...al bitch,” he replied. “Bitch Boy is just a fun handle I use while chatting, I’m not anybody’s bitch,” I said. “You advertised your availability as a bitch when you chose that handle, and my bitch you will be.” he said. I left the chat room shaking and thinking there are some weird ones out there, and one can’t be too careful. Bitch Boy was the fun. He had spread her tree-trunk-like legs as wide as possible, had chained her by her ankles to the roster, so that her fleshy thick labia, with their many fishhooks, stared at him as if they invited him. Her enormous boobs seemed to have glued themselves to her upper body, by their sheer gravity. But this was just appearance, he knew. With some hot candle-grease he would make them move like pudding. And how much candle-grease would it take to cover the fishhooks in her nipples?But first he. More

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