Post by Admin on Jul 22, 2015 15:45:19 GMT
I think I may have to fill up the boards to get new members. Oh well...
This is what started my foray into the FUK'd Movement:
Gargle, Spit, Repeat
Chapter 1
I was a good little whore, mouth opened wide ready to have the thick, veiny cock shoved down my throat. Hand massaging the balls, eyes wide, waiting for the eruption of sperm that was academia to shoot down my throat and out my nostrils.
To be fair he was a good Professor, very enthusiastic. He thoroughly enjoyed his chosen subject, and that just pissed me off. It puts too much pressure on the student. He's up there with a raging hard on and you're just sitting there like, "Don't get it in my eye!"
"The panopticon," he kept yammering, "is a representation of the form of control democracy took from religion. So," he took a swallow from his soda, I never understood why he didn't just take the swallow before starting a new sentence. "What do you do when a cop is driving behind you?"
It was a sincere question, but everyone had a cock lodged too deeply in their throats to answer. He still waited- looking around as if someone would be capable of pulling the thick, throbbing dick out of their mouths. His eyes settled on mine.
When a teacher looks at me I use a trick to make sure they don't repeat the offense. Mostly because I don't want to answer, but also because it's just fucking fun. I stare back unblinking, no emotion on my face. Mouth half-open, eyes vacant.
For a moment he was trapped, skin crawling, cock softening, and then he finally broke eye contact. "You panic even though you aren't doing anything wrong. You do a mental check to make sure you aren't breaking a law." He lowered his voice and leaned forward, this was the only thing he wanted for us to write on the test, "You punish yourself even though you haven't done anything wrong."
Mind blowing right? Pppfffffbbbbbbttttttttt, with extra spit and some of the leftover cum in my mouth. Yeah, yeah we get it prof- to establish order from chaos you need control. It's all part of society... Astounding teacher though. If I were one for reviews I would give him a good one. Four out of five cocks!
Doodling.... Doodling... Doodling.. Oh look I drew a guy blowing his brains out with a gun that looks an awful lot like a big cock! It's the only way I can ever get through classes.
Praise whichever imaginary friend seems appropriate, he finally wrapped it up.
I'm never in a rush, fuck it I say, but I'm also punctual to the point of always being early. Leaving I have the same motto- just fuck it. Plus, I don't like the whole discussion in the hallways. I don't care what you have to say. I'm trying not to commit suicide myself; I don't need your shit on top of that.
And wouldn't you know it one of the little cockstains was taking his precious time. He always leaves first, never taking a second to arrange his shit. I know this because I'm always the last to leave. Other than the teacher who has to answer all the fucking texts he received while flapping his labia and queefing. Bzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz...
I knew he wanted to talk, and I groaned inwardly. Yay, I just love inane mouth vomit. I tried to take my time but you can only go so slow and still look normal. The little fag even held the door open for me. Still, I respect a man that does that for anyone. It's the sign of a gentleman, but I knew he wanted something thus, he became a fag.
"God man, that test was hard," it was almost laughable at the attempt he made for conversation. I've noticed, depending on the association, people talk about three things when they don't have anything else to say: classmates bitch about class, coworkers bitch about work, and everyone else bitches about the weather. The goddamn weather. We've all done it.
"Yeah man," it's like they make me lie to them. No it wasn't fucking hard! Pull your gelled head out of your lubed-up ass and try listening to the fucking professor. A tape recorder is a better student than most actual students. A fucking little toy. A new-age version of spinning gears.
"I barely made a B." Why the fuck did he think I cared? "What did you make?" Why didn't he just fucking ask his question?
"Yeah me too," I lied again. On and on he went, dumbass question after question. Down the hall to the stairs and down three flights. There's nothing like watching two nice thick and tanned thighs in tight shorts descend stairs. Well, maybe ascending would be better. I watched her ass shift left to right, I thought it would cause a tsunami on some oriental island, and I was okay with that. Seemed like a fair trade.
Oh yeah, I guess now is the time I should interject into the story to describe myself. That way you can picture me and all that shit. But are you really going to remember? Fuck no. I'm a walking asshole farting into the wind. It doesn't matter, I'm really just a voice to you. To hell with the literary norm.
The ass disappeared out the door about the time he quit talking about the weather. Always the fucking weather. "So," I opened the door for him, the reach around, and tried to get him to the fucking point. "Which way you headed?"
"Oh," he pointed the same way I was going, "I'm up in the campus lot."
I couldn't even hide the smile as I pointed in the opposite direction, "I'm that way man." I'm such a fucking pussy, I could see his face drop and it reached some recess of the nitrogen crystal that was my heart. "Just text me later and we'll chill." There was that smile on his pretty face that just screamed cover me in cum. I have to admit, it did make me feel better about departing.
Great, now he was going to text me. I could make up some excuse to not hang out, but I would still have to talk to him. It was either that or having another torturous conversation. I much preferred texting.
As if on cue, my phone started vibrating- another groan. At least until I saw who it was, Erica. I'm on really good terms with all my exes, at least we still fuck, but Erica was the only one that I actually considered a friend. She was like a sister. Without the whole blood relation, and we still fucked once in awhile. But other than that she was like a sister.
"What do you want?" See your real friends you can be an asshole to and get straight to the point.
"WahhE Ahhh Ahhhh," great she was fucking crying. Who's drunk at 2:00 in the afternoon? I knew she was drunk because that was the only time she could ever show emotion, much less cry. We were just a match made in heaven.
"Stop it!" I was a complete gentleman, "I can't understand you when you cry. Now calm the fuck down, and then speak."
I crossed half the campus before she was able to stop crying, at least to get to a point where she was intelligible. "H-he," great her boyfriend did something stupid again, "hit m-me!"
My heart exploded, fire raced through my veins, I felt myself shaking. My voice was a growl, "Where are you?"
This is what started my foray into the FUK'd Movement:
Gargle, Spit, Repeat
Chapter 1
I was a good little whore, mouth opened wide ready to have the thick, veiny cock shoved down my throat. Hand massaging the balls, eyes wide, waiting for the eruption of sperm that was academia to shoot down my throat and out my nostrils.
To be fair he was a good Professor, very enthusiastic. He thoroughly enjoyed his chosen subject, and that just pissed me off. It puts too much pressure on the student. He's up there with a raging hard on and you're just sitting there like, "Don't get it in my eye!"
"The panopticon," he kept yammering, "is a representation of the form of control democracy took from religion. So," he took a swallow from his soda, I never understood why he didn't just take the swallow before starting a new sentence. "What do you do when a cop is driving behind you?"
It was a sincere question, but everyone had a cock lodged too deeply in their throats to answer. He still waited- looking around as if someone would be capable of pulling the thick, throbbing dick out of their mouths. His eyes settled on mine.
When a teacher looks at me I use a trick to make sure they don't repeat the offense. Mostly because I don't want to answer, but also because it's just fucking fun. I stare back unblinking, no emotion on my face. Mouth half-open, eyes vacant.
For a moment he was trapped, skin crawling, cock softening, and then he finally broke eye contact. "You panic even though you aren't doing anything wrong. You do a mental check to make sure you aren't breaking a law." He lowered his voice and leaned forward, this was the only thing he wanted for us to write on the test, "You punish yourself even though you haven't done anything wrong."
Mind blowing right? Pppfffffbbbbbbttttttttt, with extra spit and some of the leftover cum in my mouth. Yeah, yeah we get it prof- to establish order from chaos you need control. It's all part of society... Astounding teacher though. If I were one for reviews I would give him a good one. Four out of five cocks!
Doodling.... Doodling... Doodling.. Oh look I drew a guy blowing his brains out with a gun that looks an awful lot like a big cock! It's the only way I can ever get through classes.
Praise whichever imaginary friend seems appropriate, he finally wrapped it up.
I'm never in a rush, fuck it I say, but I'm also punctual to the point of always being early. Leaving I have the same motto- just fuck it. Plus, I don't like the whole discussion in the hallways. I don't care what you have to say. I'm trying not to commit suicide myself; I don't need your shit on top of that.
And wouldn't you know it one of the little cockstains was taking his precious time. He always leaves first, never taking a second to arrange his shit. I know this because I'm always the last to leave. Other than the teacher who has to answer all the fucking texts he received while flapping his labia and queefing. Bzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz...
I knew he wanted to talk, and I groaned inwardly. Yay, I just love inane mouth vomit. I tried to take my time but you can only go so slow and still look normal. The little fag even held the door open for me. Still, I respect a man that does that for anyone. It's the sign of a gentleman, but I knew he wanted something thus, he became a fag.
"God man, that test was hard," it was almost laughable at the attempt he made for conversation. I've noticed, depending on the association, people talk about three things when they don't have anything else to say: classmates bitch about class, coworkers bitch about work, and everyone else bitches about the weather. The goddamn weather. We've all done it.
"Yeah man," it's like they make me lie to them. No it wasn't fucking hard! Pull your gelled head out of your lubed-up ass and try listening to the fucking professor. A tape recorder is a better student than most actual students. A fucking little toy. A new-age version of spinning gears.
"I barely made a B." Why the fuck did he think I cared? "What did you make?" Why didn't he just fucking ask his question?
"Yeah me too," I lied again. On and on he went, dumbass question after question. Down the hall to the stairs and down three flights. There's nothing like watching two nice thick and tanned thighs in tight shorts descend stairs. Well, maybe ascending would be better. I watched her ass shift left to right, I thought it would cause a tsunami on some oriental island, and I was okay with that. Seemed like a fair trade.
Oh yeah, I guess now is the time I should interject into the story to describe myself. That way you can picture me and all that shit. But are you really going to remember? Fuck no. I'm a walking asshole farting into the wind. It doesn't matter, I'm really just a voice to you. To hell with the literary norm.
The ass disappeared out the door about the time he quit talking about the weather. Always the fucking weather. "So," I opened the door for him, the reach around, and tried to get him to the fucking point. "Which way you headed?"
"Oh," he pointed the same way I was going, "I'm up in the campus lot."
I couldn't even hide the smile as I pointed in the opposite direction, "I'm that way man." I'm such a fucking pussy, I could see his face drop and it reached some recess of the nitrogen crystal that was my heart. "Just text me later and we'll chill." There was that smile on his pretty face that just screamed cover me in cum. I have to admit, it did make me feel better about departing.
Great, now he was going to text me. I could make up some excuse to not hang out, but I would still have to talk to him. It was either that or having another torturous conversation. I much preferred texting.
As if on cue, my phone started vibrating- another groan. At least until I saw who it was, Erica. I'm on really good terms with all my exes, at least we still fuck, but Erica was the only one that I actually considered a friend. She was like a sister. Without the whole blood relation, and we still fucked once in awhile. But other than that she was like a sister.
"What do you want?" See your real friends you can be an asshole to and get straight to the point.
"WahhE Ahhh Ahhhh," great she was fucking crying. Who's drunk at 2:00 in the afternoon? I knew she was drunk because that was the only time she could ever show emotion, much less cry. We were just a match made in heaven.
"Stop it!" I was a complete gentleman, "I can't understand you when you cry. Now calm the fuck down, and then speak."
I crossed half the campus before she was able to stop crying, at least to get to a point where she was intelligible. "H-he," great her boyfriend did something stupid again, "hit m-me!"
My heart exploded, fire raced through my veins, I felt myself shaking. My voice was a growl, "Where are you?"