Day 8 – Button and the Key to her Door – Part 1

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>I wake up to an empty bed
>seven days ago that would have been perfectly normal
>and not the bad sort of ‘#StayWoke #2018’ normal… like being a white person or another school shooting in America
>I’m talking about the ‘Vines that butter my eggroll’ sort of normal… you know… where for awhile there you were actually kinda putting in effort to be a productive member of society but then one or two weird things happened and you were like “lol 2015 was crazy” but there was still good stuff like Elon had some pretty good ideas so it was kinda even until 2016 came and you realized people were cutting off there genitals and stuff to become a new gender of coffee mug (which is fine… coffee mugs are severely unrepresented in Hollywood films tbh) so you do some math and discover things are certainly getting weirder but only at a linear rate which still falls within your projected safety margins for surviving long enough to see Avatar 2 at the imax in 2020 which unlike everybody else you’re still excited about since you think about the original pretty often because it reminds you of a simpler time when the ‘biggest and craziest news story’ was a technologically groundbreaking film where an emotionally and physically broken white dude is stuck on a cancerous earth but wins a free server transfer to a new planet where he is allowed to drive around a 100% genetically appropriated blue space monkey minority alien and fly around on his pet lizard and fuck his hot blue space monkey minority gf while she willingly helps him appropriate all her culture and everybody loved him so much that the planets dev’s gave him a free race change and lately you just feel like you can really resonate with that story because by now its like early 2017 you are starting to feel numb and disconnected from the world because everybody said a black American president was fucking crazy but now President Trump starting twitter beef with other countries is only rank 7 from a BuzzFeed video titled “Top 10 crazy things Trump tweeted while taking a shit at the White House this week” which you found on youtube trending below a bunch of logan paul videos and suddenly you realise you math was wrong and it’s an exponential growth not linear so maybe Trump is right and ‘building a wall to keep out the mexicans’ is a great metaphor for ‘dealing with shit you don’t understand’ so you start constructing your own little wall to keep all the bad things out then before you know it you’ve spent like a whole year just hibernating in a little box watching ylyl compilations until one day you are sitting there in your own filth admiring a pristine tier 6 meta meme you found when some soyboy leaves a fucking retarded comment like “scientifically this wouldn’t even work” and you start typing a massive reply explaining how many dead memes it took to create this and how they missed the point but just as you are about to hit enter it occurs to you that he was probably a just a higher level character baiting little edgy millennials because there’s not much else to do and in that moment you discover its 2018 and your metamorphis is finally complete so you break out of your cocoon into a beautiful new world where you have become so dissociated with reality that now the most exciting thing every day is watching society crumble because it creates so much dank meme potential and that along with depression jokes is about all that’s stopping you from just ending it all
>you know… that sort of normal where you are finally seeing the positive side to things that you once thought were negatives
>because seven days ago, I had begun to appreciate waking up alone…
>…curling into the fetal position
>spreading my ass cheeks wide
>and signaling the beginning of another masturbation filled day by performing ‘The Hum of The Butt Bugal’ in B minor
It’s a thing… Click here.

>this is just one of many minor luxuries that we men take for granted until that nut busting moment when you give into temptation and blast away your potential future plans deep inside of a girl without reading the fine print
>ironically, ’The Fine Print’ is the title given to the 1412 page contract you unwittingly agreed to upon spraying your initials on the inside of her mutton tunnel with your beef crayon
>now you live every day having agreed to a list of completely arbitrary rules that exist only within her head and are subject to change whenever it suits her
>congrats on the sex and remember rule number 1037, stop asking for threesomes because fuck you

>after everything that happened last night, button’s absence from bed leaves me a little worried
>not like, “It’s been 3 days since dad went to rob the petrol station and he’s still not back” sort of worried though, relax…
>my Platinum VIP white privilege card came in the mail the other day, so now I’m protected against all stereotyped minority experiences
>it’s a studio apartment so technically the only other ‘room’ is the bathroom, It’s obvious where she is
>no, what makes me panic is having absolutely no idea what to expect from her this morning
>I spend a few minutes stressing over it until I hear the toilet flush
>what would button say if she knew how worked up I was getting?
>probably, ”stop being a faggot”
>the thought calms me down
>I mean for all I know she might have been putting her tail in just to surprise me
>that thought quickly vanishes when I realize she probably just snapped off a nasty hangover turd
>a bit of vomit comes up
>button opens the bathroom door and emerges into the morning light
>swallow vomit
Ohmyword.bmp

>it’s still early in the morning as button emerges from the bathroom, but I can just make her out in the faint morning light
>her hair’s a tangled mess and she appears to be fighting to keep her eyes open
>the only thing she’s wearing is a wrinkled grey t-shirt and it just barely covers what it needs to
>I recognise it as the one I was wearing yesterday, she must have picked it up off the floor
>it’s also inside out lmao what a retard
>she looks absolutely fucked up
>it’s hot
>I feel bad for thinking it, but that doesn’t stop me from getting some morning chubb
>perfect example of a ‘no no boner’
>one of those awkward erections that shouldn’t exist for a multitude of ethical and legal reasons
>you know the ones I’m talking about… I fucking know you do, you naughty little piggies
>button begins to wander half heartedly towards my side of the bed with a vacant expression
>at least she’s approaching me instead of just going back to sleep, that’s a good sign right?
>probably?
>possibly?
>I think?
>either way I sit up on the edge of the bed ready to meet her
>man her legs look good…

>the way she’s listlessly shuffling across the room along with her overall appearance just ooze ‘I’m vulnerable, please hold me’
>it’s awakening something primal within my loins that is, without a doubt, 100% immoral
>eventually button stops in front of me, just out of arm’s reach
>the view is outstanding
>her legs looks spectacularly smooth, especially her thighs as they catch the faint amount of morning light
>on top of that, my shirt hangs so precariously short and loose around her hips that I’m certain a good puff of air would be more than enough to shatter the fragile illusion of modesty its maintaining
>by the time my eyes begin making the picturesque pilgrimage up her body and towards her face, I’ve committed a long list of filthy sins
>but just as I open my mouth, ready to confess my deepest desires to button and ask for her forgiveness, our eyes meet and the words get stuck in my throat

Flashback tangent – Heads up, I use a combination of He and She to refer to button here, because when I reminisce about past memories, it just feels weird to refer to past button as a she. Oh and also because traps are in right now, I’m trying to widen my audience appeal

>button has always had an incredible aura about her, even throughout our gaming years when I thought she was a dude
>you were always distinctly aware of his presence in a voice chat channel even despite never being the overly talkative type
>she has certainly never been the attention hungering type either… the complete opposite in fact which I suppose was why he prefered to spend most of his time hanging out in a channel with me or some of her brothers
>but there is undeniably something about the way she carried herself that has always given an incredible sort of weight/significance to anything he said or did
>he was just one of those people that you can’t help but look up to and admire… and so people were always drawn to him, always subtly competing with each other to be acknowledged
>a compliment from a mate is nice, but a compliment from button was like a son finally being praised by his father after striving for years to make him proud
>I guess if I had to be honest, the fact that button prefered my company over others, even including her brothers many times (an achievement in and of itself} did make me feel kinda warm, fuzzy and special
absolutelynohomo.meatspin

>It was like being friends with the super rich kid at school or something
>I suppose that sounded pretty fucking faggoty considering I thought she was a dude three or four years younger than me
>although in earnest defence of my sexuality, the fact that he was a girl all along was likely what made him so… alluring?
>man I dunno, I’m not a psychologist and even my penis is confused

>as our eyes meet, the messy and disheveled look that I had expected to find on her face was nowhere to be found
>instead, button gazes down at me with an unsettlingly calm and contemplative expression
>she raises an eyebrow at me, ”well?…”
>the words come out slowly, her tone filled with an intoxicating mix of expectation, curiosity and pity
>oh god I so badly do not want to disappoint her…
>as button stands over me, waiting to see what I’ll do next, I feel like a wild animal that’s been caught of guard and cornered by a curious human
>surely she’s referring to her text message confession last night?
>even though it was through a text, it was still an incredibly momentus development, especially considering:
>A) it’s button where talking about
>B) I never expected in a million years that she would have said it before me
>it kept me up for hours smiling like an idiot and planning how I would respond
>I finally had a clear advantage and you bet your ass I wanted to make the most of it before leveling the playing field again
>I’m sure button knew this and I don’t doubt that’s why she’s already trying to turn things back in her favour
>afterall if I gave in now I’d be saying it out loud which, most people would admit, is very different from a text
>I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of torture she’d put me through before I ever got to here the words returned out loud
>button waits patiently as she stands before me in silence
>her unwavering eye contact alone is making me sweat
dead_overused_spaghetti_meme.zip
>this is gonna sound dumb…
>but a part of me so badly wants to just give in and become her bitch
>however what Josh said last night struck a chord and if I ever want to consider myself buttons equal then I’m gonna have to fight a lot harder
>with that in mind, what the fuck could I possibly say in this moment without her calling me out for trying to deflect
>tell her how much she looks like a crack whore?
>pity how terrible she probably feels being hungover
>she’s probably still hurting over saying goodbye to her brothers, I could bring that up… although fuck that would be playing dirty
>I could always just try my chances at getting laid?
>knowing button, she already has a retort prepared regardless of what I say
>I mean it’s not hard to predict the handful of things a desperate animal with its back against a wall might do
>suddenly, I hear a voice in my head
>its thick like potato starch with a heavy russian accent…
>russiandoctorbro? Is that you?
>”yes iz me my fren”
>I don’t understand russiandoctorbro… how is this possible? And why do you have quotation marks but I don’t?
>”my fren you forget? We form special bond many years ago, many things possible through power of the virgin arse my fren”
>oh… right, that… well what should I do russiandoctorbro?
>”very simple my fren, when like animal in corner, you must be like animal in corner”
>what?
>”you do what corner animal is like…”
>… err.. ok?
>“become animal! think like animal!…” the voice begins to fade, “I must go now, until next time my fren!”
>ofcourse!! It’s so simple!
>just do what every other animal does as a final defence mechanism when it’s scared, confused and cornered by a human
>…
>and so… I attempt to shit myself
>well to be fair I only intend to let out a bit of butt yodelling
>however, considering the previous night of alcohol, there was a 50/50 chance the hot thunder from downunder I had prepared was in fact an unbaked butt brownie in disguise
>stare directly at button, straight faced and ready to assert my dominance one way or another
>beads of sweghetti form on my brow as I concentrate on pushing just the right amount
>too little and it won’t be intimidating enough, to much and I’ll have worse problems than anything else currently going on
>as the silence grows button begins to look slightly concerned at the face I’m making
>I panic
>due to some past, soviet era truma, the panic causes me to reflex clench my non virgin butthole
>I desperately try to relax again, but overcompensate… significantly…
>the silence is suddenly and violently interrupted by a loud gurgling rumble that, while impressive at first, very quickly tapers off into a slightly wet and pathetic sounding sputter
>have you ever emptied a bath and that testicle inhaling vortex forms?
>you know the one, it begins with an angry, squeaky scream before ending in a tectonic sounding soggy cunt fart?
>Imagine that, but in reverse

>83.7% positive I didn’t just shit the bed
>button’s still staring at me
>she looks remarkably unmoved by my performance tbh
>suddenly, something fucking magical happens
>button begins to grin before slapping a hand to her mouth and averting her gaze
>it’s obvious she’s struggling not to straight up lose her shit
>which is ironic, because in the end all it took was me nearly losing my own shit
>after regaining composure she looks back at me with an awkward, but refreshing smile, ”the way you live life on the edge makes me wet, anon”
>it’s obviously sarcastic
>but I mean let’s face it… it still practically translates to “I’m not proud of it, but I kinda love you” in the language of button
>”to be honest, that was a lot closer to the edge then I’d planned” I mutter under my breath as button crawls over me and back into bed
>”I won’t judge if you wanna go check…” she says while smirking
>”yeah…” I nod before doing that awkward walk where you try desperately to look as normal as possible, but also attempt to minimize collateral on the off chance there’s some loose doodie
>”if we find cum stains on the sheets we know who’s fault it was” button calls out as I reach the shitter
Fortherecordtherewasnopoop.pdf
*ANOTHER SMALL BUT RELEVANT TANGENT*
>you see, one of the things that always fucking does my head in with button is never being 100% sure on whether or not something she does is intentional
>I’m not talking about obvious shit like suddenly appearing on the couch with a fox tail plug stuffed in her corn hole
>In those situations it’s pretty clear she’s baiting me or dangling a treat in order to get me to sit, roll over and do dog tricks for her entertainment
>no no, I’m talking about the little and much less obvious things…
>eye contact that lingers just long enough for me to forget about whatever I was doing or saying
>the ALMOST suspicious number of times she needs something at ‘sexy tiptoe’ height
>every time she’s wiping down the kitchen bench or table at just the right angle and with just enough force that I get to watch her butt wiggle
>or the way she leans in just a tiny bit further than necessary to watch a dank maymay on my phone and I end up getting goosebumps from her hair tickling my cheek which by the way, is my favourite
>a small touch here…
>a slight smile there…
>an unintentional compliment…
>an innocent suggestion…
>…
>THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN BAM
>I’m handcuffed on a chair with a blade to my throat or <insert some other stupid scenario where button turned me into a cuck’d soyboy>
>and every time I find myself in one of those situations, the ones I didn’t see coming be it good or bad, I can’t help but wonder if it was spur of the moment on her behalf…
>or if button had spent the last hour very deliberately distracting, nudging and herding me towards this moment
*END TANGENT*

>anyway…
>by the time I’d finished making sure my rusty wagon wheel was nowhere near as unclean as that synonym makes it sound, button had curled back up under the blankets
>she clearly intended to go back to sleep
>I’m still feeling high off my ‘win’
>figuratively and possibly even literally, as I no doubt inhaled some of myself earlier when I let fluffy of the leash
>I was about to give her the good old “hurr durr did u kno sex is good 4 headaches?” but decided that if had never worked in the past, it was unlikely to work now, especially on button of all people
>plan D…
>as in straight up ask her if she wants the D
>”do yo..” is all I manage before she mumbles something unintelligible and trails off into a boner inducing yawn
>now at this point you are probably wondering two things
>firstly how does a yawn induce a boner
>well I spent over 2 hours trying explain exactly that but it was beyond my literary skills…
>which is meaningless because I have virtually zero anyway
>I tried to image search ‘boner inducing yawn’ in hopes I might find an example
>the closest I got were girls looking like they’d been screen capped from adult flicks with titles such as ‘Ass Ventura Crack Detective’ and ‘Raiders of the Lost Ass’
>ofcourse I bookmarked those pictures anyway… I may need them later in the story
>I even went as far as to use my hidden weeb skills to search Gelbooru, but the only examples that worked were all pictures of naked loli’s in bed
>and my tight little man pussy isn’t ready for jail just yet
>so… I dunno… it was a super cute yawn and I got a stiffy
>the second thing you are likely wondering is when will that earlier tangent become relevant?
>tada!
>my faggot senses were tingling…
>see… was that mumble and boner yawn just a product of a tired, hungover and defenseless button?
>or… you know… was it planned

>”pardon?” I ask the pathetic looking bundle of blankets that is button
>she looks up at me with an adorable little pout before pulling back the blankets and giving me the ‘come here’ finger wiggle
>this is way too cute… I 100% smell some fuckery afoot here
>though there is also a very, very, very slim chance she was trying to say ‘daddy… finger my tuna taco’ with that finger movement
>I follow button’s lead and hop back into bed for some morning spooning
>she wiggles herself back into me
>It’s super effective
>”I’ll be straight with you… considering all that happened last night, I’m feeling a little out of depth here so if you could just… you know… give me a hint on what to do next or even straight up tell me, that would be cool” I ask
>button lays silent for a moment before speaking up, “breakfast…”
>I wait for her to continue, expecting breakfast to be just one of many demands
>but they never come
>”wait… that’s it? That’s all you were after?”
>another pause, although this time I get the feeling it’s because she’s struggling to stay awake
>afterall the sun isn’t even up
>”mhmmmm” she mumbles before wiggling her butt against me once again, “these faggoty cuddles aren’t half bad though”
>a sudden realization washes over me
>I’ve just spent the entire morning carefully analysing every tiny interaction between myself and button in an attempt to stay ahead of her at her own game
>trying to guess exactly what she was thinking and what she had planned
>I even strategically nearly shit myself in front of her
>yet this whole fucking time the only thing she had been thinking about…
>…was breakfast
yourwaifuistrashfightme.jpg

>I should enjoy this while it lasts
>”hmmm… how about – please anon, give me more of your fag cuddles and make me breakfast!” I tease
>she rolls over to face me
>the way her eyes hang half shut suggest ‘too hungover for this shit’
>but there was no mistaking the mischievous smile in the corner of her mouth
>even like this, she’s still not willing to submit
>”oh come on, be reasonable… one little ‘please anon’ and I’ll make you whatever you want” I continue to tease her on the presumption she’ll give up fairly quickly
>button ignores me, pushing back the blankets while raising herself up, her movements slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact
>not wanting to end up as the passive passenger while she takes the wheel, I sit up as casually as possible,  ”what happened to the ‘cute and vulnerable’ shtick? I was really getting into that…”
>”aww… poor baby,” she says while carefully straddling atop my lap, “I know you where…”
>her arms wrap around my neck, ”…but if you thought a wet fart and a hangover would be enough to have me suddenly begging you…”
>as she leans in closer, the shift in weight means I have to put my hands back on the bed to keep myself propped up
>this isn’t the first time she’s tried to use my eggroll against me to get her way
>in fact it’s becoming a bittersweet habit of hers
>her advances are halted momentarily while she appears to fight back some vomit
>I give her a concerned look, “seriously… forget the ‘please’, you don’t have to dry hump me into submission, especially if there’s a chance that load of cocksyrup you swallowed yesterday might end up on my face as well”
>button gently places her hands on either side of my face and stares at me
>despite being a little cold, the way her soft skin feels against my pathetic excuse for stubble sends a shiver down my spine and for a brief moment it feels as if the whole world has stopped to listen…
>”but I like dry humping you into being my bitch” she says meekly and with such conviction that I almost fall for it hook line and sinker

>as I feel the weight of buttons petite frame settling down on top of me, It becomes harder and harder to think straight without losing myself in her presence
>”if you weren’t so visibly hungover, I’d make you swallow a lot more than just those words… willingly or not”
>she bites her lip as her hips start to rock back and forth, “you can’t even make me say please, so I doubt that…”
>it’s hard to take her seriously when the only piece of clothing she has on is an inside out, day old shirt… which isn’t even her’s
>combine that with her unrefined, lazy hip movements and it obvious she’s still exhausted
>button studies my face with a confident smirk, as if she’s able to discern exactly what I’m thinking… I wouldn’t put it past her either…
>suddenly her smirk becomes a grin and she tilts her head to one side with a curious expression, “hmmm? Does the thought of forcing yourself down my throat turn you on?”
>before I can even process the words, an image of button on her knees, hands cuffed behind her legs and ass raised ready for me to do as I please comes screaming into my head
>I can feel several parts of my brain shutdown as my steamin’ semen truck shifts into a gear I didn’t even know existed
>god I hope button didn’t notice how fucking diamonds I just became
>between the increased rhythm of her hips and the amused smile on her face, it’s safe to say she definitely noticed
>”anon, you sick faggot!” she remarks dramatically
>”oh fuck off don’t act like it’s news, I’ve mentioned it before in vent” I counter, defensively
>”a casual online remark or two about throatfucking sure…” she mocks, “but I had no idea you would feel so… firmly, about the subject”
>”ha… ha…” I roll my eyes sarcastically, turning my attention to her hips
>button struggles to maintain a steady pace back and forth as she giggles at her own stupid pun
>“at this rate you’re throat’s just gonna be an enteré” I warn her under my breath
>her grinding slowly comes to a halt and she falls silent
>I glance back up at her, hoping she wasn’t about to be sick again
>instead I’m met with a intense and almost anxious stare
>I raise an eyebrow at her inquisitively
>”you seem… different, today…” she mumbles in response as her eyes wander across my face like a pair of soft brown searchlights
>while a part of me instantly begins jumping to negative conclusions, I suppress it as far down as possible
>after all, even I recognise lust when I see it…
>this is it, this is your shot…don’t fuck this up anon…
>”well… I can’t possibly seem worse then you look” I respond smugly
>an amused smile reappears in the corner of buttons mouth as our eyes finally lock, “…you’re more familiar… … … more confident… … … It’s hot…”
>those last two words were a mistake on her behalf
>because that my friends, is where everything started to go downhill…

>within seconds I have one hand firmly on her hip and the other between them
>buttons pastrami butterfly offers absolutely zero resistance as I slide two fingers up and into her deli section
>she leans in towards me while trying to stifle a moan
>her lips stop so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of her breath
>it reeks of American Honey bourbon… which isn’t totally unpleasant, but still bourbon breath at its core
>”I like my bacon soft” she says in a whisper so fucking boner inducing it nearly knocks the faggot right out of me…
>nearly

>It’s certainly humbling…
>here I was, feeling confident and rebuffed after last night…
>me at my best and button at her worst
>I figured I finally had such an upper hand that nothing was off the table
>and yet…
>despite her disheveled appearance
>despite the emotional fatigue from last night
>despite her hangover
>and despite her exhaustion…
>it turns out my best is still almost no match for her worst
>in fact it’s almost as if she’s playing the negatives to her advantage…

>compared to the cool morning air, the inside of buttons dick microwave is like a snug christmas stocking that’s been hung above a crackling fireplace
>except the stocking is full of oil… sweet delicious button oil
>before I even get a chance to move my fingers, she begins humping them all on her own
>It’s what wet dreams are made of…
>I also realise that I’m losing this battle…
>”poached eggs… oh and hashbrown” she continues to whisper seductively while working her hips rhythmically onto my fingers
>”we got no hashbrowns” I inform her distractedly
>”so go and get them…” button quips back immediately
>I remove my fingers from the nutt hutt next to her butt in a last ditch effort to reinforce my terms and conditions, “not until you say please”
>at the same time I begin assaulting her neck with my torpedo tongue  
>button begins to squirm about on my lap, struggling to remain focused as I run my hands up her hips
>the neck slushie proves to much and pulls away, now leaning back with her hands on my knees
>this causes the shirt she has on to lift up just enough to reveal her velvet sausage wallet as she drags it back and forth over my very big penis
Runninglowonsynonyms.help

>suddenly I hear a familiar thick accent for the second time this morning
>“my fren, you must be stronk like big man bear”
>umm…
>”if you have something of want, simply take! do as glorious father Putin… make button like ukraine and conquer!”
>well I get what you mean russiandoctorbro, even if the reference is a bit outdated
>”perhaps my fren, if you actually finish writing this chapter many year ago when it when it was relevant then this would be funny joke about current political landscape no?”
>ok yeah I get it… thank you russiandoctorbro, you have, once again, reached deep inside of me and touched my soul…
>I take the advice and become like man bear, picking button up from my lap and laying her back down on the bed beneath me
>”I’ll settle for just ‘please’ at this point” I mumble as I drag my tongue down her neck while I finger bang her tinderbox with my level 99 firemaking skill
>”anon…” she begins before breaking off into a muffled gasp, “for both our… sakes, it would be better if you… mmmnnfff… stopped…” she eventually manages to whisper in between short breaths and soft moans
>”you’re not even trying to stop me though…”
>”that’s… hnnng… not the point!” she protests despite offering little resistance to my advances
>I hesitate for a second… something in her tone of voice doesn’t sit right
>”MAKE BUTTON PART OF MOTHERLAND” roars russiandoctorbro with the confidence of a fully erect R-7 Semyorka soviet missile
>I forge onward, violating button with my stronk communist fingers
>for a few moments everything is looking peachy
>”anon… please… stop!”
>the words stop me dead in my tracks

>I pry myself from button’s neck only to realize what she’s been on about this whole time
>she’s on the verge of being sick
>”oh fuuuck I’m sorry… I didn’t realise” I practically scream at her while helping her onto the edge of the bed
>while button takes deep breaths, doing her best not to blow chunks, I grab her a glass of water and some more panadol
>least I can do at this point…
>”thanks faggit” she whispers before taking the panadol and getting back under the sheets, “you’re lucky… you were seconds away from getting that facial you wanted so bad”
>I let out a sigh, ”you know sometimes I…”
>”sssshhhhh” she cuts me off, shaking her head and pressing her finger to my lips, “hash brown’s…”
>”fine… but you only win this on a technicality” I mumble
>before I can get up off the bed, she grabs the scruff of my shirt and pulls me back in
>we kiss passionately like the pair of majestic faggots we are, rainbows and confetti included
>it’s kinda gross… with her being so close to hurling…
>as we pull apart she continues to hold my scruff for a moment while looking at me
>”…please” she says with honey bourbon vomit breath and a soft smile
>then again assholes are full of shit and that’s not going to stop me from going down that path… at least christ I hope not
>after getting dressed, I steal one last glance at her before heading to the kitchen
>she’s already happily asleep…
>and I’m already happily back to being a faggot

>talk about exhausted, I think to myself while inspecting the pantry for ingredients
>got everything except for a handful minor stuff for the hashbrowns which means I’m gonna have to make a quick trip down to the shops
>no biggie I guess, weather looks fine
>I consider waking button to tell her where I’m going but can’t bring myself to disturb her, especially after potentially making her feel even worse
>Instead I grab a piece of paper and scribble down a message, leaving it beside her on the pillow

>she doesn’t move
>dead to the world
>while taking a moment to appreciate exactly what and who was curled up in front of me, an immense though not entirely unpleasant feeling stirs within me
>it’s a feeling that’s been steadily growing over the last week
>but between the conversation at the pub with Josh and buttons text confession last night, I had made the decision to do something about it today one way or another
>I pick the note back up and make some adjustments before replacing it carefully and leaving for the shops

>when I woke up this morning I was full of determination
>especially considering the previous night…
>It was the perfect opportunity to prove to button that I could hold my own
>hell I figured my chances were pretty darn good with button being hungover possibly even a bit emotionally fragile?
>and for a moment there things were actually on track
>oh well… there’s still the rest of the day
>doesn’t matter, played with her bajango
10/10IGN.wouldplayagain

>and so here I am, walking to the shops to fetch ingredients for buttons breakfast
>surely this isn’t what Josh meant by ‘she needs me’?
>also, I’d give anything to hear her say that
>though the more I think about it, the more I end up working myself into a panic
>what exactly does she need me for?
>what do I actually bring to the table, aside from food, shelter and sex… stuff that anybody could provide if I’m being honest
>I know she enjoys making me her bitch… but she could do that to just about anybody I’m sure
>she definitely enjoys it when I resist or challenge her?
>…probably because it makes victory taste twice as sweet
>a horrible thought occurs…
>if being challenged is the only thing that gives her a kick, does that mean if I stopped being a challenge she’d get bored and look elsewhere?
>ugh this is stupid… I’m being stupid…
>she wouldn’t have sent me that text if those were the only dumb reasons
>it’s not even 8am and I’m already doing everything I can to convince myself I’m more than a chewtoy
>at least I can cook better than her
opconfirmedforfaggot.gif
>the rest of the trip to the shops occurs without anything notable happening
>however…
>while I’m heading back from the shop, weaving my way through all the early morning commuters lined up to get their 12 dollar organic skim soy puppy free cinnamon twist double wanker lattes…
>something catches my eye
>an ancient looking little building sandwiched in between a couple of fancy boutiques
>it’s the sort of shop nobody would ever notice unless you had a reason to find it
>like some serious Harry Potter sort of shit

>It’s an old fashioned locksmith and It reminds me of something I need to do
>I make my way across the street, towards the dejected looking shop and push open the door
>which nearly falls off its hinges
>this is probably long past due considering button already has her own side of the bed, space in my cupboard and now even furniture in my studio
>the moment I step into the shop I’m convinced that the place is indeed some sort of magical locksmith only visible to ‘those who need it most’
>either that or only only visible to ‘buttwhipped manbabies’

>I’ve never seen anything like it in my life…
>the place is literally plastered floor to ceiling with keys, locks, tools and other crap that I don’t even recognise
>but no sign of the owner…
>I browse around, looking at… well looking at fucking keys n’ shit… waiting for somebody to show up
>maybe the owner died decades ago and there’s been no customer’s since
>that would make an awesome greentext feels story… ‘The Long Forgotten Locksmith’
>or maybe ‘The Lock that lost its Key’
>I’m busy admiring the cutaway of a lock with all its inner workings on display when suddenly there comes a gentle but weathered voice from behind me
>“ah!… welcome… what might I be able to do for you today?”
>a little bit of scared wee comes out as I spin around…
>only to find pretty much exactly what you would expect to find in a shop like this… a short, old looking man with a slight hunch
>he has a very worn looking face and a remarkably full head of curly silver hair
>also, a pair of glasses hang around his neck on what looks like plain old kitchen string
>it’s a little anticlimactic to be honest, Dobby the elf in a pillowcase would have made for much better storytelling
>hell even the old man in a pillowcase would’ve been acceptable
>though I admit the shitty glasses string was pretty endearing and wholesome

>”I err… just wanted to have a duplicate made” I say, struggling to get the key off my keyring
>the old man starts to nod, ”ahhh yes… of course!”
>he makes his way over behind a counter and turns a desk lamp on, ”alright let’s have a look eh?” he mumbles, putting on his glasses… the ones with kitchen string lol, before taking the key from my outstretched hand
>he looks the key over thoroughly under the lamp, ”hmmm… ok”,
>god I hope this doesn’t turn into a half an hour long endeavor, I still have breakfast to make
>”long time since I saw a house key like this” the old man mumbles
>the studio apartment I rent is pretty old and the lock on the front door is old fashioned as fuck
>Initially I’m surprised that he recognised the type of key at all
>but honestly when I think about it considering the appearance of the shop and the age of the man, it was probably him that installed it originally when the apartment was built
>back in the 1800’s or whatever
>I wonder if he knows that old fossil from the sex shop?
>“who is the key for?”
>the question catches me off guard, I’m not sure exactly how to answer it or why it’s even relevant, “erm… just a… friend… I guess?”
>the old man frowns from behind his glasses, “what do you mean you guess? You don’t know?”, he sounds genuinely puzzled
>I just shrug, writing his response off as polite small talk or whatever
>except now he’s just standing there frowning at me
>he’s clearly waiting for an answer before continuing
>”does it… really matter?” I finally reply, trying to get this whole situation moving forward
>”what?!” he scoffs at me, visibly taken back, “ofcourse it matters! This is a key to your home is it not? You wouldn’t just give it to anybody surely? A parent perhaps, or sibling… maybe even a lover or close friend… either way, surely it’s somebody special if you’re willing to give them a key to your home”
>I can’t help but smirk at the old man’s logic, “heh, she’s definitely special…”
>”aahh!… a girl!” he exclaims before turning around to search the wall of keys behind him, “a special girl hmmm?”
>”you have no idea…” I whisper under my breath with a sigh
>no really… he has no fucking idea…
>the old man begins making his way from one key to another in a very deliberate manner, as if each somehow points to the next
>he pauses suddenly, looking at the surround keys as if unsure where to go next, ”and this special girl, does she live there with you? Is it her home also?”
>asking the real questions now god damn
>”yeah it’s… her home as well… now” I reply and the locksmith immediately sets off again across the wall
>”hmm…”
>I watch absently mindedly as the significance of what I just said begins to wash over me
>several minutes pass and its clear he’s hit another ‘dead end’ as he retraces back and forth along the same path as if he’s certain he’s missed something
>he pauses again, cocking his head as if staring off in thought, “unless…” he mumbles before turning around to face me with a stern look “… are you in love with this girl?”
>ok come on what is this… a fucking tarot card reading? Is he gonna ‘read the keys’ and tell me which of the 47 state approved genders my children will be?
>the locksmith studies my face closely while waiting for a response
>”… yeah” I nod, “I am”
>”so you do know after all!” he remarks, shaking his head “you should’ve said that from the start…”
>he appears to have completely changed his mind about the wall of keys and instead begins rummaging through various dusty old boxes and packages lying about in the corner

>this has got to be a show, entertainment to make an otherwise boring task seem mildly interesting
>like those street vendors that wave a waffle cone around on a stick while some poor dude tries his best to resist sucker punch the cunt because he knows his wife’s filming everything for her shitty youtube travel vlog
>I mean I get what he’s saying about giving a house key to only certain people but it’s not a fucking engagement ring
>actually… considering it’s button we are talking about, those two things are probably more equivalent of each other than it might first seem
>a few moments later he appears find what he’s looking for
>you won’t believe what it is!
>a key… it’s a fucking key… I’d be getting pretty concerned at this point if it was anything else
>at least I hope it is, I can’t really see it from where I am
>he clamps both my key and the blank he’s just found into a key duplicator thingy, I don’t know the proper name but I recognise it because an old mate of mine is a locksmith and talks to much
>huh… maybe it’s a locksmith thing

>”what do you think the difference between a key and a lock is?” the old man asks
>oh fuck me here we go lol I dunno bruh but I know it’s gonna be some abstract wise ass answer with a super deep meaning

>“a key provides access and a lock denies it??”
>it’s the best I can come up with on the spot

>”ahh… so the difference is their purpose?” the old man chuckles as he removes the key and holds it up to a light along with the original, comparing the two
>”however, is it not also a locks purpose to provide access to those with a key just as a key must deny access to those without it?

>there’s a hidden message here… I’m sure of it… I don’t know what it is but I’m positive he’s trying to teach me something
>I wonder for a moment if this is what grandfathers are like?
>both of mine passed away before I was born, so I have no idea what the experience is like
>which has never really bothered me, you can’t miss what you have never had
>but I imagine this is what they are like, gentle wise old men full of obscure knowledge, life lessons and rock candy
>or in this case keys… thousands of fucking keys and way too much time to waste
>the locksmith clamps both keys back to back in the small vice and begins using a collection of tiny files to make some final adjustments

>”sooo… there is no difference?”

>”exactly!” he exclaims with enthusiasm before unclamping the keys and holding them up to the light for a final inspection “they give each other purpose… without one, the other becomes meaningless”
>wow such philosophical, many wisdoms!
>still no idea where this is going
>the old man wanders towards the rear of the shop, talking as he goes, “there are many locks and many keys in the world, but each lock is only made useful by the key that opens it” he calls out before disappearing through an archway
>after a minute or so, the old man wanders back in and makes his way to the counter, ”…and each key is given value by the lock it fits into” he says with a smile and one of those old man winks
>he places my original key on the counter
>along with a piece of thick brown paper that has been roughly folded and bound with the same sort of kitchen string that his glasses hang from
>it has an authentic rustic charm to it
>100% chance to get laid if I gave this as a gift to a normal girl
>100% chance to get called a faggot if I gave this to button
>this whole time I was being an impatient and ungrateful little cunt
>old man was just trying to help me get some netflix and chill
oldmenaresmoothasfuck60fps.webm

>after paying the locksmith and slipping the faggot parcel into the back pocket of my jeans, I make my way home
>It’s about a quarter to nine by the time I get back
>the bed has been neatly made and I can hear the shower going
>images of buttons lovely soapy chest mangoes soon appear as I drop the shopping in the kitchen
>so the next big question is… start breakfast now, so it’s ready when she gets out?
>or take my chances going into the bathroom for a slice of button’s warm apple pie
>the answer comes in the form of a note sitting on top of the kitchen counter
>it’s the same note I left next to button before leaving for the shops
>except now I can see something scribbled in red on the opposite side…

>so much for casually asking her out for dinner
>but I’m not going to deny it… a casual dinner was far from what I had planned if she said yes
>that doesn’t mean that this wasn’t a fucking brilliant way to ask somebody out… cute note with a casually worded ‘go out with me’ as a PS to help make it feel light hearted…
>hell, most girls love cute notes, probably would’ve even got me an after dinner hummer
protip.png
>in hindsight… considering button shoots laser beams from her eyes and farts dragon fire, a cute note probably wasn’t the best move
>she called me out and now I feel stupid for trying
>how does one even ask out a button?
>I walk to the bathroom, full expecting to be teased further about it
>slowly open the bathroom door
>button’s on the floor
>dinosaur
fin.bat

>keep in mind there’s no curtain on my shower, so when I walk into the bathroom I’m immediately presented with a view of button’s backside as she rinses her face
>feel that familiar primal fury stirring from deep within my loins again…a righteous conquering rage…
>I clench my fists and take on a wide stance as my seed factories release a tidal wave of testosterone
>I begin to chant, “hrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhh”
>the entire bathroom begins to hum with energy
>”hhrrraaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh”
>the mirror shatters
>my toothbrush falls into the toilet
>”aaaaaaaahhhHHHHHHHH”
>toilet paper whirls uncontrollably around the room
>button adjusts her stance slightly and I get a split second glimpse of her little pink EZ bake oven
>”PICKLE-REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
>the clothes on my body disintegrate
>my jurassic chicken-tendie bursts forth
8999+2.exe

>button looks over her shoulder at me, “really faggot? a note?”
>her affection truly knows no bounds…
>”are you getting in or not?”
>”oh my bad, I was waiting for permission” I reply sarcastically
>a warm smile spreads across her face as she spins around to face me
>“you may enter” she says playfully, her head held high in a noble sort of way
>I respond to her with a feminine curtesy
>button rolls her eyes before offering me the shampoo bottle with an outstretched arm
>”come on hurry up… you have work to do”
>I’m really hoping that she’s referring to more than just a hair salon treatment

>I begin to think of how I should go about trying to ask her out while I work the shampoo into her hair
>admittedly I’m still a little devo about the fail date note
>although she didn’t exactly say no…
>maybe she just wants me to ask her face to face?
>that’s easy enough… It’s just dinner…
>just dinner…
>it’s not like I’m suggesting it’s something more than that…
>what if she really just doesn’t want to?
>but she did imply in the note…
>”feeling better?” I ask
>”I’ll feel better after breakfast”
>the sensation of button leaning back into my chest shifts my attention back to the situation at hand
>It gives me a fuzzy feeling right in the feel bone
>anon receives  a +5 confidence boost
>here goes nothing…
>”wanna go out for dinner?”
>…
>…
>wait… wut?

>’wanna go out for dinner?’
>yeah that might work… if I intended to treat her to a fucking Zinger Box at KFC (a popular boxed meal option at KFC in Australia)
>”nope” button replies casually
>the way she doesn’t even hesitate or consider the question irks me
>but I get the feeling if could just ask her in the right way then she would say yes
>”I didn’t mean it like that… I meant like… do you want to go out to dinner tonight…”
>”try asking a different question”
>what’s that supposed to mean? how else can I even word it?
>panic starts to set in as I feel an important opportunity slowly slipping through my fingers
>hot water turns into hot napolitana
>I thought I killed this spaghetti meme… apparently not
>”come on button… I’m being serious…” I protest in frustration
>”bullshit” she mutters out from under the thick lather of shampoo I’ve been working up on her scalp
>I shouldn’t have said that… now the panic is obvious
>my heart is starting to pound faster and faster…
>reason and logic are melting into desperation as I search for a way to salvage the situation
>this feel…
>the intolerable anxiety that overwhelms any rational thought as you desperately reach out to grab at something…
>something you KNOW you’re better off just letting go at this point
>I’ve had this feel in the past
>I never wanted it again
>my hands drift absentmindedly down beside me as I become oblivious to whatever I was doing
>button steps away from me and begins to rinse her hair under the shower
>I have no idea what is going on?
>why am I so worked up?
>what the actual fuck am I even doing right now?
>I can feel a tidal wave of major fuck and trump tweets building within me… it’s a hot sticky mixture of frustration, embarrassment, anger, spaghetti and confusion
>button continues to calmly rinse her hair as I stand behind her trying to snap myself out of this anxiety vortex
>normally I would rinse it out for her but she seems to have realised I’m having a moment and says nothing

>the large soapy chunks audibly splat against the ground while I stand behind her like a fucking stunned mullet
>as I process things, I become irritated at the way she’s just casually blowing me off
>what does she want me to say?
>how am I supposed to know the magical fucking combination of words that will make her say yes
>even with the heat of the shower, I can feel my face quickly flushing red as the reeeeeeeeee builds within me
>a moment later and there’s just too much for me to keep in…
>including my chicken tendie
>…and I snap
wheresmyszechuanscauce.picklerick

>”look I don’t fucking know how to do this with you ok? You know what I’m asking, Don’t fuck with me like this…” I just sort of blurt it out without even thinking about what I’m saying
>certainly not the first time I’ve done this to button over the past four years
>button turns around to face me with a calm, slightly concerned expression, ”I beg your pardon?”
>”I just told…” I begin in an even more aggressive tone…
>but when our eyes finally meet I suddenly can’t even remember what I was mad at
>inversely, this IS the first time this has happened, ever
>did I ever mention how incredible her eyes are? Soft gooey pools of warm chocolate…  I did? well I’m telling you again because I don’t think you understand
>she stares up at me in pity
>I want to stay angry, it feels good to just blow up like this, I don’t want to calm down dammit… but those eyes…
>bootin pls… y u do dis

>”I want to take you out to dinner… if you don’t wan…”
>button cuts me off mid sentence, “I get it, it’s important to you… but why…”
>it seems like a stupid question at first… but after seeing the serious expression on her face I put some more thought into it
>after all, the autism is finally fading into obscurity, much like Notch did after he sold Minecraft
>why do I want us to go out to dinner?
>It’s almost impossible for me to know how button’s feeling at this point
>I just don’t want things to get any worse
>“I dunno, have some fun, score some brownie points with you… you know”
>that’s a lie and both of us know it
>button rolls her eyes and begins to turn back around, clearly frustrated with my pussyfooting
>fuck fuck fuck… just be honest… deep breath and say whatever comes to mind
>”because I don’t know we stand and I figured a date might help clear that up…”
>she pauses for a moment, “first it was dinner, now it’s a date?”
>ahh fuck it cats out of the bag… might as well push this the whole way no matter how ugly the result ends up being
>”I thought that was fairly obvious?” I reply trying to sound as casual as possible
>”anon, you left me a sticky note” she retorts dryly
>“yeah well I mean…” I mumble at her, realising exactly how she’s going to respond “that’s what…most…”
whydoIkeepdoingdumbshit.trump
>”don’t even start that… you know how stupid that argument is… Just because you’re ex’s all thought sticky notes were cute doesn’t mean sticky notes are cute… it just means you have a fetish for dating special needs girls”
>ouch… though I can’t disagree
>”so let me get this straight…” she begins, “you planned to ask me out to dinner, which by the way, I was suppose to magically infer as a date, and depending on whether I agreed to go or not, would help you make sense of what’s going on between us?” button asks condescendingly
>”well it sounds kinda stupi-” but I’m cutt off, once again
>”and now that I’ve said no?”
>she turns to face me with a cold but inquisitive expression
>”then… we’re friends with benefits?” I suggest
>her expression grows noticeably colder
>”best friends with benefits?”
>button looks at me with a furrowed brow, “what if I said no, but wanted to be your girlfriend? or what if I said yes but didn’t want to be anything more than ‘best friends with benefits’… two people can have dinner without it being a date”
>”fine, I should have made it more obvious it was a date… next time I’ll write you a fucking haiku instead” I spit back at her
>she sighs, ”you’ve known me long enough to know I hate poetry anon and that’s my point, you’re suddenly treating me like I’m one of your ex’s”
>we stand there facing each other under the shower, butt naked
>I can’t disagree with her really… but for the first time in a long while I feel like I’m just talking to my best mate button on Vent…
>I’m starting to realise how much I’ve been holding just to be more agreeable
>sugarcoating

>welp, time to turn off the filter and just speak what feel

>”I’ve known you a long time but asking you on a date is very recently development, how am I supposed to kn-” once again, she cuts me off
>”for fucks sake anon just ask me… exactly like you’ve done a thousand times before with every other difficult question you’ve ever asked” button snaps
>”yeah well… that’s easy to say when you never ask any questions because you either already know the answer or just don’t care one way or another…” I mutter under my breath while stepping out of the shower
>it must have struck a nerve because button hesitates momentarily before replying
>”well maybe if you had a normal conversation with me instead of speculating inside your bubble, you wouldn’t have come to such a fucking stupid conclusion” button sharply retorts

>”we’ve barely had ‘normal conversations’ as internet buddies button… ” I scoff ‘and that was before you turned up out of the blue and things got so…”
>”complicated?” button offers resentfully
>”I was gonna say differen’t, but complic
>button remains quiet, though her expression suggests she may be keeping quiet for my sake now…
>I take the opportunity to hop out of the shower, ”the worst you could do before was stop talking to me, but when I opened the door and met you for the first time… all of you…ofcourse things changed, obviously…”
>”like I said, I don’t know where we stand and if you had even the slightest idea of just how painful it can be to… to find out somebody else doesn’t view you the same way… well maybe you’d get why sometimes I struggle so much to just be upfront with this stuff”
>”errrghh… “ button turns back under the shower in frustration, “you’re such a fucking faggit sometimes anon”
>”fuck you too”, I finish putting on my shirt and jeans and start heading for the door
>”you could have avoided most of that pain if you had just listened” button calls out in spite
>it hurt… just like she intended it to
>but she’s also right and I know it… which annoys the hell out of me

>now before you get your knickers in a knot, you need to remember that button and I fighting wasn’t uncommon
>we had a very open and honest friendship, there was never any concern of things being permanently tarnished because one of us spoke our mind
>obviously there were times when we had to hear some hard truths
>or calling the other out on some bullshit
>which was usually her calling me out… nine times out of ten…. but not always
>buttons still young, 4 years younger than me atleast
>I’d like to think there are some thing’s I still have more experience in, even if it’s the pain of having your heart broken, she’s only ever experienced that second hand through me
>ofcourse that’s not to imply fighting was a daily or even weekly occurrence during our online days
>but it was often enough that there was nothing unusual about it
>since we began living together just a week ago we had both acknowledged to some degree that our friendship was evolving…
>…there waswas no doubt we were going to tussle eventually, and likely more than just once
>in fact I think it would be safe to admit that after 7 days of fairly smooth sailing…
>this was needed…
>after all, being open about how we felt was a core part of our friendship…
>I hear the blowdryer turn off just as I was about to begin plating up the food, which meant button was done in the bathroom and would be joining me shortly
>considering we haven’t actually sorted anything out yet and the way I left button in the shower…
>I don’t doubt for a minute that she intends to have some choice words with me
>been preparing myself for the approaching shitstorm
>physcing myself up while cooking
>I even tried to cook everything super perfect in hopes she gets distracted by the meal
>truth is I lost long before the second half of our fight even started
>as the bathroom door opened I don’t even turn to look
>Instead I focus on putting the final touches on breakfast
>button comes up and casually leans against the kitchen counter just a few inches next to me
>I glance across at her and my instantly brain be functions ceases to
>…
>she’s wearing a tight fitting plain black t-shirt along with some plain black boylegs
>there simplicity only accentuates the curves of buttons petite frame…
>a good portion of her soft, toned thighs are visible before the remainder of her spectacular legs disappears beneath my favourite pair of black thigh high stockings
>and as if all that wasn’t enough…
>there’s a long brown fox like tail hanging down between her legs

>It takes me a minute or two to reboot properly, but eventually I work up the courage to look up at her face
>however instead of the familiar comforting brown gaze I’ve come to love, I’m met with a fiercely hostile glare
>it’s in complete contrast to the sexy and seductive vibe her outfit gives off and only makes the situation that much more unpredictable
>”that’s not fair, you’re playing dirty” I inform her coldly
>she pushes off from the kitchen bench and takes up an aggressive stance right in front of where I stand, before immediately giving me a piece of her mind, “No, what’s unfair is-”
>”breakfast is ready…” I’d already planned to cut her off, I figure if I’ve already lost, I might as well go down swinging, “It won’t stay hot forev-”
>button hurls a fist into my gut, it’s light enough to leave my appetite in place, but hard enough that I clutch my stomach as she spins around and makes her way to dining room table…
>…her adorable brown tail following her the entire way
>I want to take her seriously, but the butt plug tail and the nearly full head of height difference between us do wonders to round off her sharp little claws
>she has to know all this, surely
>then again, whats the point in trying to understand a game I’ve already admitted to losing
>it’s so fluffy
>I touchy da tail
herassisfilledwithplasticrightnow.gif

 

End part 1, Day 8

 

Afterword:

So… It’s been awhile yeah? How you all doing? Yay for trump! Hallo to all you Germanfags that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, May your bratwurst’s and franks and even your little weenies forever remain firm and full of meat.

Probably wondering where I’ve been? I got doxxed. Hard. I actually can’t say much about it because police got involved. Needless to say I lost the drive to continue this particular story (whaaat? I write other things???? Best believe it you pastey white little crackers)… (are racist jokes still okay in 2018? Honestly I don’t fucking know anymore…).

I still get emails about this story to this day and I decided it was finally time to end, but also continue the greatest cock tease, or cunt tease for those of you with real boobies and not the jiggly man ones.

You may have noticed my writing style changed a bit… I tried to keep it similar but ultimately it’s been 3 years and I’m a different person. I’ve written a lot of normie fiction over the years and it was fun to come back to the ‘no rules’ style of a greentext.

Enjoy… and if you want more, keep emailing me. It strokes my ego ooohh soo good…

storyofbuttonop@gmail.com

Also, seriously… follow me on twitter: @authorbro

Because it’s the only real way I have to let you all know when I post new stuff!

Day 8 started getting pretty long and you little cum slurpers kept begging so I decided to split it in half.
Love you all.
Sinceraly
A huge fucking faggot.

PS: Good to hear I’ve inspired a wealth of new tail kinks. Welcome aboard. May your girlfriends (or boyfriends) butt holes forever be plugged with swishy goodness.

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