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A Bonus Bumming with Billy Joe
Those with long memories might recall that I'd already bummed Billy Joe Saunders some years earlier, in one of my most heart-warming tales.
However, it was nice to meet up with him again, and I didn't know how it would go, as the last time I'd bummed him, it was at middleweight. Billy Joe instantly impressed me, grabbing my already-quivering sphincter and telling me how he'd never stop bumming me. "I'm prepared to die in that ring" he assured me.
As usual, Saunders showed his class that defied all negative stereotypes of travellers, remembering to say "please" and "thankyou", as he drank warm diarrhea from a Staffordshire Bull Terrier's arsehole.
"I've got clean him up," Billy assured me, "he's got a fight as well artar."
Again, his inability to say the word "after" confused me, but let's get to the bumming.
Billy Joe came out for the bumming, and his confidence impressed me. Before he got ready to enter my ring, he began a dance routine, and I had no idea he was such a skilled dancer. The guy was like Fred Astaire... but Fred Astaire if he'd shat down his leg and was trying to shake it off.
Well, we got it on, and, fair play, he put on a good show. Every time my chopper went deep, I could see it affect his body, but he generally took it well, and his workrate was higher than mine, he was thrusting more, even if his old fella wasn't as powerful. If I'm honest, I felt I was being slightly outbummed on thrusts, but I knew that the judges had been well paid, so he was going to be way behind anyway.
Then in the eighth, it stopped suddenly. I was wanking his cock, when suddenly I landed right in his jap's eye.
It was, it has to be said, not only anti-climactic, but also a little heartbreaking to see this self-proclaimed "gypsy with a massive heart" tell his corner his bell end was too sore to carry on. I never like to see a man quit bumming, but I had dished out a pounding, and I guess he knew there was more to come.
It was a moment of raw sobriety that I would inevitably reflect upon in the weeks ahead...
However, it was nice to meet up with him again, and I didn't know how it would go, as the last time I'd bummed him, it was at middleweight. Billy Joe instantly impressed me, grabbing my already-quivering sphincter and telling me how he'd never stop bumming me. "I'm prepared to die in that ring" he assured me.
As usual, Saunders showed his class that defied all negative stereotypes of travellers, remembering to say "please" and "thankyou", as he drank warm diarrhea from a Staffordshire Bull Terrier's arsehole.
"I've got clean him up," Billy assured me, "he's got a fight as well artar."
Again, his inability to say the word "after" confused me, but let's get to the bumming.
Billy Joe came out for the bumming, and his confidence impressed me. Before he got ready to enter my ring, he began a dance routine, and I had no idea he was such a skilled dancer. The guy was like Fred Astaire... but Fred Astaire if he'd shat down his leg and was trying to shake it off.
Well, we got it on, and, fair play, he put on a good show. Every time my chopper went deep, I could see it affect his body, but he generally took it well, and his workrate was higher than mine, he was thrusting more, even if his old fella wasn't as powerful. If I'm honest, I felt I was being slightly outbummed on thrusts, but I knew that the judges had been well paid, so he was going to be way behind anyway.
Then in the eighth, it stopped suddenly. I was wanking his cock, when suddenly I landed right in his jap's eye.
It was, it has to be said, not only anti-climactic, but also a little heartbreaking to see this self-proclaimed "gypsy with a massive heart" tell his corner his bell end was too sore to carry on. I never like to see a man quit bumming, but I had dished out a pounding, and I guess he knew there was more to come.
It was a moment of raw sobriety that I would inevitably reflect upon in the weeks ahead...
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