Contributor: Lusty - - Masturbating sure did sound nice for Kandy (as her stripper friends called her.) Boy, are these nails nice, she thought. They were acrylic, with a salmon pink on them with rainbow poke-a-dots complimenting the excitingly bright color. Sharp didn't explain the profuse acuity of them. A dull poke to the pupil would be menacing. She considering doing that when she thought about her mudflap (as she liked to call him) ex-boyfriend, Tim. He sure was an asshole. She started off lightly rubbing her crotch thoroughly through her skin-tight jeans. After a bit of foreplay, she ripped them off. She could see lacerations from her jeans on her skin. She leaned back in her half-way torn apart Laz-e Boy recliner that Mr. Mudflap destroyed in a drunken rage. She rubbed herself through her panties and indulged in the wonders of...

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Author: Lusty

Contributor: Lusty - - Being a lesbian was so nice for Amber; she didn't have to worry about stretching her vagina just to get laid, she didn't have to worry about the cancerous beings called men, and most importantly, she got to indulge and partake in the beauties that make women. She got ready in her small suburban house for a big night out with her girlfriend Zina (or "partner" as those fucking media moguls call it.) They planned on going to a strip club called 'Cumming Attractions'. It was surprisingly nice despite what the porn-ish name suggests. Zina was a dancer there but she didn't have work that night. Amber brushed her red hair thoroughly. It fell dancingly down onto her milky shoulders. Zina walked in, grabbed Ambers tits from behind (in a pedophile way) and told her how ravishing she looked. They kissed and Amber brushed...

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Author: Lusty

Contributor: William Clifford - - Paul Ford and I broke into his sister’s house to steal some drugs. She was old now, like 22 or something, and lived with a big guy who worked at Home Depot, but he was never home. Paul’s sister Pauline saw us the second we smashed in the window with a brick, and promptly stuck a kitchen fork into Paul’s arm. I was already drunk from some wine we got from Jim The Perv outside the 24-hour place, so I got extra spooked that Pauline might call my mom. “I’ll kill you, Paul!” “I’ll kill you first, Pauline. I’ll fucking kill you!” “Go for it, faggot!” Paul did go for it -- yanked the fork from his arm and lunged at his sister. She started laughing and then fell to the ground, the threadless green carpet, probably high, calling him names, and then Paul straddled her and jabbed the fork into his sister’s eye....

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Author: William Clifford

Contributor: Robert E. Petras - - His name was Urick, but he called himself the Stomper, and the Stomper was in the woods stomping snakes, one of his callings in nature. Why else would evolution endow some badass with size Double D feet other than kicking punk ass and killing snakes? He was heeling the head of a two-foot snake with Army surplus boots, snuffing it out like a cheap stogie. It stopped wriggling. The Stomper scooped up the stupid looking snake by its tail and whipped it, flinging the head off, barely missing a dove resting upon a tree branch. The Stomper pumped a fist and then slid his ass-kicking hand into a back pocket of green canvass pants and pulled out a notebook. He thumbed through his notes: how many punks whose asses he had kicked, their names and ages, the women he had banged and dumped and, finally, the...

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Author: Robert E. Petras