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Motherfucker

"The trick is to combine your waking, rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of your dreams. 'Cuz if you can do that, you can do anything."

― The Waking Life

Soaked in her BFF's girl cum, the woman released a nut that could satisfy an 800-pound squirrel. From a nearby couch, her mid-20s daughter watched with more intent than the Koch brothers do rising balances in their bank accounts.

Adjacent the progeny in question, a butch lesbian β€” said best friend forever β€” gazed on, fingering her pulchritudinous pussy. A pussy, no less, Don Keedik had penetrated moments prior.

Employing his nine inch rudder, our hero steered this version of the Lusitania through the play pot of the dominant dyke's lover. The result had been a hard tile floor, at the edge of the bed, more drenched in girl goo than New Orleans was in Katrina piss.

Oozing from a mattress as sullied as a politician's checkered past, Mommy Dearest crept to the sofa where her daughter awaited. A rook flirting with checkmate, Don positioned his hard-on between progenitor and offspring, proudly displaying his shaft, the way a hunting dog does a bird caught on the run.

The young woman was transfixed.

"Would you like to touch it?" inquired Keedik, offering his aching member. The gorgeous girl's mother grabbed her daughter's hand, guiding it to Don's dick. The neophyte caressed the silken skin over the pulsing length, and began stroking.

In order to stave off an early end to the festivities, Keedik envisioned Wolf Blitzer in a fishnet bodysuit, boasting a CNN tattoo above a moderately-sized zit doubling as his penis.

Moments prior, the offspring in question had been watching Don drain her mother ― a loosely-practicing lesbian ― in front of orgiastic onlookers, at yet another swing club. Removing his straining spear at the moment of release had caused mom to burst, depositing cups of kitty cream on the slick floor between Keedik's legs.

The scene encompassed about 50 fantasies. Don realized if he was ever to compile a highlight reel of his most memorable sexual moments, this would be the Miracle on Ice.

Keedik had lead two generations ― from the same immediate clan ― into uncharted waters. The matriarch had been more game than Monopoly. Initially, however, her daughter had forgotten to pack shoes, prior to reaching Antarctica, and gotten cold feet.

Now, as the younger woman stroked his ribald rod, Don relished in the culmination of his tireless efforts.

"He's worried you no longer love him. You should give him a kiss to calm his fears," Keedik stammered. More stupid than believing politicians serve you, Don had to emit some sort of idiocy, to keep this Kursk from sinking.

The line was a 100 year old light bulb still providing illumination; Keedik couldn't believe it worked, as the dissolute daughter smooched the titanium rod pounding between his powder-white chicken thighs.

A foursome starring our protagonist as the sole male thespian, Don pretended his luck was a lone button capable of launching the entire nuclear arsenal, and didn't push it.

Having successfully completed a mother/daughter high wire act, he reveled in blazing his own path, rather than following the white picket fence to Hell the system had erected for him.

He'd never "own" a house, but neither would anybody else. The difference was Don knew this, while others pretended not to. We all rented, and if you erroneously believe otherwise, try not paying your mortgage, property taxes, or HOA fees. See how much you "own" then.

And even if the bank/government doesn't steal your home, try taking it with you when you bite the big one.

Ownership is an illusion, and Keedik had discovered such decades prior.

Don knew he'd never get married, as doing so was nothing but a prison sentence from which others stand to temporarily benefit.

Voting? Just activate autopilot and glide...straight into the erupting volcano.

The system will garrote you with images of "perfect" bodies, unavailable unless you offer cash. When you do, that same system will jail you for paying. It's lunacy!

Don departed the sex shack, and headed down the Strip to relish in the experience. Passing a stretch Hummer, a man in a tuxedo leaned out, "Premium dancers to your door for two hundred dollars an hour." Again, what the system offers.

"No, thanks," Keedik responded. "I just had a foursome with a mother, her daughter, and her lesbian lover for free. Why would I pay you, so I could watch women β€” who have no desire in me β€” dance?" What you experience, once you denounce the system.

The man's smile faded. "I, uh― Where'd you―? What the hell―?! Shit, why wasn't I invited?"

"Because you were here,...enslaved," Don replied.

β€” authored by Hugh Mungus; a.k.a. Don Keedik
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