berserkerblancmange:Jim’s report wasn’t really wrong anywhere in terms of the English
berserkerblancmange: Jim’s report wasn’t really wrong anywhere in terms of the English language, or style, or in his method of argument. It’s just that every fact he included was wrong because he hadn’t studied for shit. So, some swapped words, some replaced dates, and it was his report, with no chance Turnitin was going to pick up on any cheating. “Thanks, Kalil, thank you so much,” he said, like he always did, pitch-perfect imitation of last time. Now, though, there was more:”Please, it’s - it’s Christmas, dude, let me do something for you?” “No, I think you should just study a bit more.” “You get nothing out of this, Kalil, and we’ve never even been at a party together. I owe you. Name it. Let me - let me do something for -” “Lick and sniff my armpit, Jim.” Jim licked his lips instantly and then stared at me like I’d stabbed his mother’s eyes out in front of him. “Jim, have you ever heard of an ‘incognito’ or ‘private’ window? When you type ‘p’ into your search bar here, P for Plantagenet, you too will be suggested ‘pit licking boy’, ‘pit smell’, ‘pits lick homo’ and so on. We haven’t been at a party together because I’ve been busy. You’re my friend. I do this because I want to see you happy.” I took my shirt off while I gave him the speech I had been writing and rewriting and rehearsing in the mirror for about two years. I’d showered. I’d definitely showered before I came here. But… I always ended up smelling of me. Even two hours later. Even when the only exercise I’d done was correcting this great white idiot’s timeline of the War of the Roses. “Why do you always talk like this, man.” “Look at me! Kalil the nutter. Always talking ‘like this’.” I lifted one arm, and shoved his face under it. I make a show of folding down over him, of wrapping him up in my wet pit. And I squeezed down hard. “That’s what I always say, isn’t it, Jim. I always say ‘lick and sniff my hairy pits’. I always say, ‘isn’t it a little spicy?’ I always tell you, 'bet you wish I worked out today, ole Jim, you little slut’.” Jim whimpered. I pressed my knuckles against his cock through his shorts. He was leaking appropriately. “Lick me slower. So I can feel it. That’s it, Jimmy. Good, good Jim-Bob. This is what I want from you, okay?” I unfolded - just for a second - and looked at his red, wet, stinking face. “I just want you to be happy.” Jim dove back in on his own. *also leaks appropriately* -- source link
Tumblr Blog : pitsfun.tumblr.com
#reblog