By Gottfried Vanderplatt
"Here's what you gonna do," Bobby said, with that mischievous grin of his. "You gonna take off them clothes, right quick." And that's exactly what Clem did.
"Lookin' good," Bobby growled at the naked man. "Lookin' very good. Why don't you just take them pink-and-yeller tassels and tape 'em to your nipples, like I showed you how." Without a word, Clem did as he was told.
"Hell yeah!" Bobby screamed. "That's what I'm talkin' about, boy! Now you see that giant paper-mache kitty-cat head? That's right, go ahead and put it on." So Clem gently lowered the monstrous head over his own, while Bobby clapped and whistled.
"Good lawd," Clem said in a muffled voice, "you sure is one kinky sumbitch."
"I ain't payin' you to talk!" Bobby bellowed, snapping a cat o' nine tails across Clem's bare back. "Now you git to workin' on my tax return!"
(There is but one name in erotic fiction in Swine Junction, Alabama. And that name is Gottfried Vanderplatt.)
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
KINKY SUMBITCH
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1 comment:
Until I started reading the Vanderplatt cannon, I felt like the only man in the world who loved forcing other men to wear papier mache cat heads. He's opened up my whole world.
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