CHURCH COUNTRY GIRLS
XI. KING-KALE & QUEENOA
King-Kale appraised his bitch. What was her name? Probably didn’t matter. Who gave a shit. King-Kale’s bitch, that’s all that mattered. Wait, no…
Why his default mode was set at “smug, well-hung prick” was beyond him. He could do this… What was her name.
Rhonda? No, that was the mail carrier he was taking to fucking, every Friday afternoon. . .
Rhoda? No, that was his new boss with the big tits and fat hot pink pussy… No.
“Uhhh, Queenoa! I’m serious, it’s getting bigger.”
“Yeah, but you like it though, I bet. Dontcha?”
“You tell me. You were the one that said my dick was getting too big. And now it’s getting even bigger. So. Yeah. I don’t know, does it hurt when we fuck, or... something?”
“Ummm, no, you’re just. I mean, you said yourself your foreskin was growing back. Who does that? But it IS true.”
She continued babbling as she searched in overwhelming despair, for a bra and panties set that matched, and fit.
She was huge now. “I can’t always fit that all in my mouth no more. But I will. Um, pretty much whenever you wan’, zaddieeee—”
She noticed he was jacking it, dribbling precum from the tip already. She burped and drooled.
“It’s so hot. It’s so hot, every time I think about it, I just want to drop to my fucking knees and give you a thousand blowies. I love —“
“Giving head to all my friends? Yeah, I know, Cheryl.”
“That’s Queenoa to you, Glen.”
“No, I am your king. King Kale. Don’t you ever forget that shit. It’s my store. It’s my money. It’s my cock.”
“Then let me fuckin’ suck it!”