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It took me some time to figure out what the message meant. Steve had crashed at my place, and split very early in the morning, well before sunrise. Evenutally, I noticed no bills in my wallet...fortunately totalled seven bucks and no more! I am sure Steve blew it on speed; and you know of course he has yet to reimburse me (more than three years later). I don't mess with hard drugs myself, and do not allow such substances in my domicile!
And do you know he thinks he should repay me with a few quick blow jobs? Granted, Steve's got a handsome face that is just great to fuck; and--even better--he is the absolute best Blowjob Artiste I've met in a long, long time! He loves to suck dick, and makes no bones about it...especially over such a nicely cut and sized joystick like my own! If he likes you (and you gotta like him one helluva lot to even get to first base with some tongue action), he'll go down on you like the best lover in your dreams. His slick mouth will devour every square inch of your basket, whenever you signal him to come fetch! My fat wanger rides his skull like the well-oiled piston in a V-8! He's a great dude, and Top Gun soldier.
But I'll still be dammed if I ever pay him--or anyone else for that matter--for some healthy sex! I never have, and I never will. It's definitely not healthy to mix money with sex, in my book. Steve, for what you ripped me off of--and I mean trust, not money--you owe me seven times seven times seven of the best blow jobs you could ever give in your entire life. That, plus three times the amount you stole. Your handsome mug is supposed to be buried deep in my crotch (God made you just for that), tongue groping and sliding around my hot balls and engorged 3-D tongue-depressor just yearning to be engulfed by your desperately hungry mouth. But one thing is always true about you, Steve good buddy: you sure know how to make a real man real happy! Here's shooting really big wads of high-tech premium at ya' Laddy Boy...forever!