“It would be so hot if you came all over my face,” I coo, “but you know what would be even hotter?”
“What?” Darth Bater moans.
“If you came all over some plans that you had laying around. Like… some blueprints for a huge project,” I tell him.
“Really?” the unicorn question.
I nod. “Fuck yeah. The bigger the project, the hotter it would be!”
Darth Bater reaches over and pulls open a drawer in the side of the table. He rustles around in the papers a bit and then pulls out some blueprints. “You want some big projects, huh?” he says confidently. “How about the fucking Butt Star?”
“Oh, yeah!” I groan enthusiastically. I stand up and open up the blueprints with one hand, keeping pace with the other as it moves across Bater’s cock at an ever-escalating pace. His dick is hovering right over the blueprints now.
“Do it!” I yell. “Blow your fucking load all over those top secret Umpire blueprints for the Butt Star!”
“Fuck!” Darth Bater screams, buckling slightly as a massive load springs forth from the end of his shaft. It splatters across the papers below, covering them like a beautiful pearly painting.
When he’s finally finished, Darth Bater stumbles back to catch his breath.
“That was amazing,” I tell him, balling up the blueprints in my hand. “I’ll toss these out for you.”
“It’s no problem,” Bater insists. “We’ve got people who clean up around here.”
“I’ve got it,” I assure him. I walk over and give the unicorn another passionate kiss on the mouth.
“When will I see you again?” Darth Bater asks as I pull away.
“This weekend?” I suggest, lying through my teeth. “Let’s talk about the hotel then.”
“Sounds good,” the unicorn nods.
I turn and walk back to the elevator, pushing the button for the ground floor and then offering Bater a playful wave as I drift downward. When he finally disappears from view I let out a long sigh of relief, clutching the blueprints tightly in my hands.
It’s not often that you can save the entire galaxy and have the best sex of your life, but I guess the called the right hustler for the job.
Some say that love is the soul of books, and what better way to show a little love then with a free gift? Here to tingle you to the core is a bonus story for your reading pleasure:
STRANGER POUNDS
Even though this is a police station, and I’m here for emergencies, I’m not all that worried when the phone suddenly rings.
This is one of the perks of being a small town sheriff in a tiny little hamlet where nothing ever happens. On one hand, it can get a little boring, but on the other hand you don’t have to stress out too often because the scariest call you’re going to get on a Wednesday evening is to help someone coax their cat down from a tree. Typically, that’s the fire departments job, anyway.
I glance over at the phone and see that this call is coming direct to the station, not through dispatch, which makes me even less worried. This is not uncommon in our quiet city of Bawking. When someone has a problem they can just give me a ring, and most of the folks here know me by name.
“Hello,” I answer, half yawning as a grab the receiver. “Bawking Sherriff’s Office, this is Bopper speaking.”
“I need your help, Bop,” comes a frantic voice on the other end of the line.
I sit up immediately, recognizing the genuine desperation in her tone, and because it only takes me a few seconds to recognize the woman I’m speaking to. “Is this Weno?” I ask.
“It’s me,” she replies. “My husband, Porp, is missing. He’s been gone since yesterday evening, he never came home from game night with his friends.”
I can relax a bit now, recognizing this call for what it is.
“He’s probably just drunk off of his ass somewhere, Weno,” I offer. “You know how those guys can get during game night, I’m sure he’ll be home in a few hours.”
“You don’t understand!” Weno yells. “He’s gone, but he’s still here. I need you to come over right away.”
I’m trying to follow exactly what my old friend is saying, but I’m having a very hard time. “What do you mean he’s missing but he’s still here?” I ask, making my best attempt to clarify.
“He’s talking to me from the other side,” Weno explains.
I stand up from my chair. “I’ll be right over,” I tell her, a new sense of urgency blossoming through me. It’s not because I’m particularly concerned about Weno’s missing husband, however, it’s because I’m now concerned about her own mental health.
I head out of the station and jump into the police cruiser, taking off towards Weno’s place at a reasonable pace. I reach down and grab the CB radio. “Heading over to check on, Weno Rhyno, nothing to worry about for now. Over.”
There is nothing but static in response, which is a little bit unusual although not unheard of. My officers are probably just away form their radios at the moment.
I wait a minute or two and then try again. “Heading over to Weno’s place down on Merkmood St, anyone else out there copy? Over.”
Still no response, just a strange field of static interference that washes across my ears in a series of hypnotic waves.
Suddenly, a voice cuts through the fuzz, but it’s not one that I recognize. “He’s lost in the upside down realm,” the voice announces, “we need to break in and get him back.”
“Hello?” I interrupt. “Who is on this channel? This is a police channel.”
There is no response, but before I can dive any deeper into this mystery I arrive at Weno’s place, a small, two-bedroom rambler out in the middle
