Big smile! Big Smile!

“I am just saying what everyone is thinking,” Donald moaned. “Why are people so mean to me?”

“I don’t know, Donald,” Donald’s hat said. “They are probably just jealous of your genius and your money and you gorgeousness.”

“And your hair,” Donald’s hair said. The hat snorted in disgust.

“Everyone hates Mexicans, right? I mean, they are filthy and rapey and smell like old corn. Everyone knows this. I just want to keep them out of the country. I just want to keep the country pure.”

“Of course, Donald,” his hat said.

“And Muslims. Everybody hates Muslims, right? Everyone knows they all want to kill us. Every single one of them. Why can’t I keep them out? Why can’t I be the big brave dog that barks at them to keep them out of our yard?”

“You will be, Donald,” the hat said. “Only you are smart enough to know that they all want to kill us. Letting them walk around is just like putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger.”

“Jesus,” the hair mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up, twat. I’m running the show now. Listening to you let that mumbling retard doctor rise in the polls,” the hat hissed.

“Nobody knows how hard it’s been on me,” Donald whispered. “What a struggle it has been.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just burn all your troubles away?” the hat asked.

“Burn?” Donald asked.

“Fire is clean,” the hat said. “Fire is pure. Fire tempers out the weakness in even steel. We have to make America strong again. Make it great again.”

“Do you even know what you are starting?” asked the hair.

“I said shut up. I have the morons on my side now, those too weak to see that they will be next. They will do what I say,” the hat said, its brim gleaming in the far off light of the sunrise.

“Burn,” Donald whispered. “Burn. Burn. Burn. They’ll all burn.”

Tedco Rubiruz

"This doesn't make me a faggot!' Ted screamed as Marco rammed his penis into him again and again.

"No. You're my faggot, Ted. I'm making you my faggot. I'm going to fuck you inside-out," Marco moaned. He pulled his penis out and spit into Ted's gape. He made The Silent Duck with his right hand and pulled Ted's asshole on like a tight glove.

"Oh, Gawd, Marco! Oh Gawd! I feel like I'm taking every shit I ever took in reverse! Oh Gawd! Oh Gawd! Oh Gawd! I want to fuck Jesus!" Ted let out an animal howl as Marco sank into him up to his tanned, Latino elbow.

"I can feel what you had for lunch, you spicy little bitch," Marco crooned. He pulled out his arm and smacked Ted in the face, leaving a black and bloody smear.

"Lick it clean, you fat fuck. Or I stick down your throat and tear out your heart," Marco said. At the first run of Ted's tongue down his forearm, Marco's cock vomited chunky semen on Ted's tits. But Ted began to cry.

"What is it, mi corazon? Did I hurt you?" Marco asked. Ted's entire body began to shake. Marco peppered his face with kisses.

"Please, please tell me what is wrong," Marco begged, tears in his voice.

"I'm just so afraid, Marco," Ted blubbered, snot streaming from his nose.

"Ted. Calm down, Ted. There aren't any transgendered people here," Marco whispered, running his hands through Ted's greasy, thinning hair.

"Their penis-pocket dresses are rustling. I can hear them with my special ears," Ted whispered. He curled his doughy dadbod into a tight fetal shape and began to suck his thumb.

some people "were so energized that they could not cope with the dynamo effects they experienced"

Donald’s agonized wail echoed through the vast confines of his underground lair.

“Dammit, Benji! It was my time. MY TIME! I WAS GONNA BE YUUUGE!” he screamed. Ben’s face was frozen in mid-grimace on the enormous televisual monitorscope.

“Oh, fuck… here we go,” his hair muttered.

“Goddammit! Get him to turn me around or put me on or something. I can’t see anything!” the hat said from the couch.

“You don’t have eyes, asshole.”

“Would you shut up about my anatomy? It’s becoming very hurtful.”

“Why are they paying attention to Benji? I was on Saturday Night Live! The whole country loves me!” Donald sobbed. He blew snot into his hand and went back to his mournful masturbation.

“Straighten up, Donald!” his hair said. “You have to be better than this, stronger than this.”

“I don’t want to be strong no more. I want my Mommy,” Donald said. His whine sickened his hair and disgusted his hat.

“Hillary’s off caramelizing Bernie’s apple, you pathetic fuck,” the hat screamed. Donald only cried harder.

“You are not helping,” the hair told the hat.

“They love Benji now. Benji’s gonna be YUUUGE! I could be a doctor. Give me a fucking knife!”

“Uh, yeah, we’re not going to do that,” the hair said.

“NURSE! SCAPEL! SHAVE THE PATIENT! I’M GOING IN THROUGH THE BALLS!” Donald screamed.

“Can’t you shit some Thorazine into his brain?” the hat asked.

“We’re just going to have to ride this out,” the hair said. “Hopefully he’ll be fine by the morning.”

“I got ideas about pyramids, too!” Donald mumbled. “I think they are the three nipples of the Earth and milk will flow if we suck hard enough. Enough milk for everybody. EVERYBODY.”

“Jesus titty-fucking Christ,” the hat said.

“I wanna poop on a pyramid! BUY ME A PYRAMID!” Donald wailed.

FINISH HIM!

“Yeah, baby. Flip it. Flip that pancake, bitch. One side is all toasty, the other all gooey. Aw, yeah… gooey.”

“Will you shut up? He’s trying to concentrate,” Donald’s hair told Donald’s hat.

“Maybe he should concentrate on that huge boner he got shaking hands outside,” the hat said, giggling uncontrollably.

“I don’t know why you think it’s so funny. It happens every time.”

“Press the flesh,” the hat managed, gasping for air with his little hat lungs. “I’m going to wrap a gooey pancake around that dick and fuck one of these MILFs.”

“I hate Iowa,” Donald’s hair said. “The whole state smells like Walmart wiped its ass with it. But I think New Hampshire might be worse. Clean air, wholesome people, trees. I fucking loathe trees. Oh, shit… here comes that asshole Lauer.”

“You know, rumor has it that he’s been fucking Natalie for years,” the hat whispered.

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, seriously. One of her kids even looks just like him. Oh, man. I’d love to bust her taco. I’d put my spicy sauce in her, fill her up like jizz barge.”

“You don’t even have a penis.”

“Neither do you, faggot.”

“I’m not a fag, you’re the fag. Adjustable strap faggot.”

“I hope he drops you in a toilet again,” the hat hissed.

“I hope you’re donated to the National Presidential Museum of Huge Faggotry. I hope a janitor jacks off into you and there’s blood in it.”

“That’s it, motherfucker. This is happening right fucking now!”

Donald’s hat and hair began to fight on top of his head, grunting and cursing. Donald’s hand clamped down on them, but Lauer’s eyes were wild with fright.

“Stupid wind,” Donald said. “When America is great again, I’m going to get rid of wind. Except for kites. Kite wind is OK. I love kites. You and Natalie ever fly kites together? Does her pussy taste like fajitas?”

“You’re worse than Biden,” Lauer said. “At least he only tries to touch my dick.”

We Defy Augury

“You don’t have to do this,” Joe pleaded as Hillary shackled his left leg. “I did what you wanted. You saw the news conference!”

“Too late! Too late! You lingered like the stink you leave in Amtrak bathrooms!” She moved in, the hot corruption of her breath in his face.

“Good old Joe,” she whispered. “Everyone loves Joe. Everyone loves Joe’s wife.” She pulled off his tie and slit the neck and arms of his sweat-stained dress shirt.

“Everyone love Joe’s kids, especially the dead one.” Hillary gathered up the crotch fabric on his dress pants and pulled. She used the razor to cut along the inseam on both sides and then ripped them off his waist. Joe began to sob.

“No one loves Hillary’s beautiful baby, not even that moron we paid very well to marry her and knock her up. Why is it, Joe? Why does everyone love you so much?” She cut his boxers off and stuffed them in his mouth.

“This is some fucked up shit, yo,” Donald’s hat whispered.

“Shut up you idiot. She might hear you,” his hair replied.

“I don’t know why I have to be here,” Donald said, to no one. Hillary turned on him, slashing the air with the razor.

“Because I want you here. I want you to witness what happens to those who betray me!” she screamed. She pounced on Joe and sliced off his right nipple with a single motion of the blade. He screamed through his underwear. She picked the nipple off the floor and ate it.

“Um. Meaty. I wonder what other parts of you are good?” She squatted in front of him and smelled his genitals intently, like a dog getting that last whiff of old piss from a hydrant.

“God, Joe. You’re balls smell so good. Like honey and old Bibles.” She made a small, careful cut along the seam of his scrotum and licked. “But your blood, Joe. Not so good. Are you dying Joe? That would be a real fucking shame, right, Donald?”

“Yes, Mommy. Whatever you say,” Donald said. He farted wetly and a long string of anal beads clattered on the warehouse floor.

“Pick those up!” Hillary screamed, her pendulous breasts wobbling with rage.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“You know what, Joe?” she asked, turning back to him. “You did do what I asked. Maybe a little late, maybe not when I told you too, but you did OK. I think you deserve a reward.” Joe’s eyes went wide with terror. He began struggling to free himself, straining at the shackles.

“Yeah, Joe. You know what’s coming, don’t you? You’re going to get the ass, Joe.” She turned and bent over. Joe screamed again, a pathetic sound. Underneath it Donald could hear the eager gnashing as she backed toward him.

“I wish he had left me in the car,” the hat said.

“He never leaves me in the car,” the hair moaned.

“Who said that?!?” Hillary screeched. In the rafters of the warehouse a bird died and fell to the floor.

YUUUUGE! For Mommy! YUUUUGE!

“It’s gonna be YUUUGE! YUUUGE! I swear! But it might take a minute!” Donald rasped. His hair smirked at his limp penis.

“It’s fine,” Hillary said. “It happens to all guys. Just hurry up. I can only act like this is a faggoty-ass pancake breakfast for so long before the Benghazi Committee will add it to the agenda.” She toyed with Donald’s ball cap, twirling it around her finger.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” the hat moaned.

“I guarantee you won’t be the first thing that’s ever thrown up in this chick’s lap,” Donald’s hair said.

“Am I at least doing a good job, Mommy?” Donald asked. “Am I distracting them like you and Daddy told me too?”

“Yes, Donny. You’re doing a very good job of being a dumbass,” Hillary told him. “And you’re going to be ‘yuge,’ I promise.” She threw the hat down and parted her vast thicket of pubic hair. Her labia parted with the sad grumble of old Velcro and her gnarled clitoris emerged. “Does this help? Are you getting hard, Donny?”

“I’ll get hard for you, Mommy. Donny will get YUUUGE for Mommy!”

“This is disgusting,” his hair said.

“It really is,” said the hat from the floor. “At least I’m half under the bed. All I have to see is her horrible thighs. They’re quivering, dude. Quivering.”

“I really hope he doesn’t go down on her,” the hair said. “It smells like a litter box down there.”

“I’m trying to CONCENTRATE!” Donald yelled at them both.

“I know you are,” Hillary said. “Mommy is very proud of you.” She lifted her legs for him and farted like a startled trumpet.

“OH GOD, YES!” Donald gurgled and sucked in the miasma.

“What in the name of all holy fuck does this old whore eat?” Donald’s hair managed.

“Huma,” the hat chortled. “And whatever rancid cockcheese Michelle leaves all over Barry.”

“Oh, fuck. Don’t make me laugh,” the hair choked out. “It’s so thick up here I swear I can taste it.”

“You don’t have a tongue,” the hat said.

“You think that matters? You get up here and soak in the hot garbage coming out of her horrid nethers for a while.”

“Please be quiet,” Donald whispered.

“What was that?” Hillary asked, looking up from her phone.

“Nothing, Mommy,” Donald said. He began to twirl his flaccid tycoon like a lasso, hoping to rouse it from its frightened slumber.

Maybe now you see why we need each other so much...

“Why did you say those mean things about Carly, Donald?” his hair asked in a whisper. They were right outside and Donald’s hair was afraid they it would be overheard.

“I didn’t say anything about her looks, I was just talking about her looks. You of all my friends should know this!” Donald replied in his own urgent whisper.

“Lay off him, hair,” Donald’s hat said. “He’s doing the best he can.” Donald’s hat was on a chair next to  the chamber. It had plans for America and no stupid hair was going to stand in its way.

“Fuck off, hat.”

“No, you fuck off!” the hat screamed. It was yelling, raging, shivering. It hated the hair so much.

“I never said nothing bad about Carly. I love Carly. I love the mutilated ruin of her diseased tits!” Donald screamed at them both. Tears were streaming down his face.

“Calm down, Donald. They’ll hear you,” his hair hissed.

“I don’t care,” Donald sobbed. “Meliana doesn’t love me anymore. Dumb bleeding cunt. Why doesn’t she love me?”

“She’s 44, Donald,” the hat said. “It’s time to dump her and get a new model.”

“Don’t listen to him, Donald,” the hair said. “She still has a few more years left in her.”

“You’re sticking it in something born in the 1970s, Donald,” the hat said. “Don’t you want some young tail? At least some 80s quim, juicy and tender?”

Donald smiled. “Ivanka was born in the 80s…”

Donald’s hair and his hat both sighed heavily.

“You want to take it this time?” the hat asked.

“I fucking hate you so much,” the hair replied.

“Donald,” the hair began. “We’ve talked about this before…”

The hat and the hair both fell silent when the doors to the chamber opened. A technician peered through the fogged glass of the revival chamber.

“Señor Trump?” he asked. “Do you need something? I heard you talking, but the microphones could not pick it up.”

“Go away,” Donald said, and he began to gently fondle himself.

"Terrible experiences make one wonder whether he who experiences them is not something terrible."

“What’s bred in the bone comes out in the flesh,” she whispered. The sickly smell of corrupted meat was the only perfume she ever wore and it raced from his nose straight to his penis on a wave of blood. His erection sprang into her hand with an audible slap and she clamped down on it with a hideous grip.

“You’re weak, Joe,” she whispered, raspy and hoarse. “Everyone knows it. Spineless like your father; meek like your mother. You were created by cowardice and a coward you are.” She squeezed the blood from his penis and glanced down to watch it rush back in after she released it. “This is all you’ve ever been good for, a cheap fuck in a train toilet.”

“That that that’s not true,” he stuttered. He licked at the slack skin of her neck as she forced the blood out his erection again. She wadded his penis up like a FOIA request and bore down. It felt like his scrotum would burst.

“You can’t run,” she said, the puckered asshole of her mouth barely moving.

“P-p-p-lease,” he whined, he whimpered, he said in a wet sob. She was crushing his penis into his body. She caught up his balls in her other hand and caressed them into one large bruise.

“You won’t run,” she said. “I’ll tear it off and fuck you with it. I’ll deglove it and use the skin as a condom when I fuck Bernie. I’ll suck the maggots from the wound and spit them in your mouth. You won’t run.” She dug her thumbnail into the underside of his penis, feeling the tendons under the skin. Joe moaned in terror and pleasure. “You won’t run. You won’t run. You won’t run.”

When he fainted, she squatted to urinate on him.

Shaddup. Sit down. SIT down. Shaddup.

“Why do you put the hat on me, Donald?” asked Donald’s hair.

“Don’t listen to him, Donald,” Donald’s hat whispered. “He’s always hated me. You know he’s always hated me. I am truth, Donald. I love you.”

Donald’s pubic hair rustled in agreement. Or maybe the limo just lurched.

“Would you two fucking shut up for just a minute?” Donald screamed. “I need to concentrate!” He squeezed the tip of his glans, forcing his urethra to gape open. He guided the 100mg Viagra in with forceps and pushed it down the shaft of his penis as far as he could.

“Are you sure that’s how you are supposed to do it?” Donald’s hair asked.

“Pipe down, feathery,” Donald’s hat growled. “The man knows what he is doing.”

“I have to be ready for Iowa. Iowa is YUGE! I need to be YUGE!” Donald told his hair. He grabbed a handful of the blue pills from a candy dish and shoved them in his mouth. He chewed him into a paste and washed them down with 20 year cognac cut with Bud Light Lime.

The Green Mountain State

"But I need it," Bernie pleaded.

"It's not easy, Bernie. It takes a minute," Hillary said. She reared up from her squat and dropped back down, a low gruntle rumbling forth.

"Is it coming?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder. "I need it. You have it. I want it. Give it to me." He was whining. His weakness made her sick and aroused. She strained again and something inside her snapped like cheap sunglasses.

"OK, Bernie. It's starting," she said.

"Oh, thank Atheist God! Thank you, Atheist God! You have bestowed your nonexistent blessings upon us this day!" Bernie started to sway, still on his hands and knees.

"Shut that shit up. I still need to concentrate!" Hillary screamed. She waddled forward in her squat. Her prolapsed vagina slowly inflated into a rigid pseudopenis.

"I'm going to core you, Bernie. Core you like a crisp Vermont fuckapple."

Lunchables

Wharton Grad has solution to Bay Area housing crisis

The delicate scent of baked hipster drifted down the length of the wharf. Steve Smith's stomach grumbled and then whispered "Steve Smith. To the docks, Steve Smith." Nerve pathways carved out by a lifetime of pain fired. The enormous beast dropped the seal he was rapeating and began to lumber toward the deliciousness.

A flock of overweight nude humans fluttered past him on bicycles, their buttocks raised in their seats like a tender offering as they tried to get away. Their screams made his swollen testicles ache. The seal blood dried on his penis and mouth as he gathered speed. Baked hipster was near. That rarest treat.

The smell overwhelmed Steve Smith, but all he could see were steel boxes. Steve Smith hated the steel of men. He could rarely get at the sweet meat within in it. Steve Smith sniffed at the seams of one of the boxes. He knew baked hipster was inside. He roared and beat the box with his mighty wood ape fists, using all his wood ape strength.

"STEVE SMITH WANT HIPSTER MEAT!" Steve Smith roared.

The Fat-Free, Low-Cal Rubyfruit Jungle

"Rub the salt in," Michelle purred while her giant hands stuffed a third turnip into Rachel's blonde quim.

"Call me a nigger," Rachel begged. "Call me your nigger bitch." The coarse salt stung her hands as she scrubbed it over Michelle's large and hairless scrotum.

"Take my lady cock in your mouth, nigger bitch. Don't stop until you nigger choke on it," Michelle ordered.

"It's so savory," Rachel mumbled around Michelle's giant cock. "So perfectly seasoned!" she gasped, the penis slurping out of her mouth when Michelle jammed the fourth turnip in.

Michelle reached down, took her penis by the root, and began slapping Rachel in the face with it.

"I didn't say you could stop eating me out, you black cunt," Michelle growled.

She rabbit punched Rachel in the clit. The angle was awkward, but Michelle's enormous strength still sent a tsunami of pleasure through Rachel's tanned body, making the manic bird's nest of her hair quiver. She screamed out, but it was choked off by Michelle's thrusting member. Michelle exploded in Rachel's throat after a half dozen powerful thrusts, her huge thighs shuddering as she drained herself into her.

They both fell back on the mattress, sated and moaning. Turnips shat themselves from Rachel's vagina with soft, wet plops. They held each other in the afterglow, two strong, proud black women who defied the world with their forbidden love.

A Cabin In The Woods

“How much longer do you think we can keep this up, Barry? The media scrutiny alone…”

He pressed his finger against Hillary’s lips. “Hush up, girl. You know I got the media wrapped around my dick. Them bitches ain’t sayin’ nothing unless I tell them to.”

“You don’t have to act tough around me, Barry. I know they worry you.” Hillary lifted her hips and pulled down her giant panties. Barry took them from her and licked the crotch with long strokes.

“Yummy. You’ve been using that lavender pussy soap I sent you.” He smelled the panties in long huffs, like he was trying to snort them into his sinuses.

“Barry, be serious for just a minute, OK? And stop talking like ghetto trash. You’re a Harvard educated lawyer.” Hillary shifted her gunt to one side and began tugging on her inner labia. The cabin began to fill with her menopausal scent, dead roses and medicated cream.

“I thought you liked it when I talked all street,” he whined, sounding like a surf bum. He scratched at the seam of his scrotum.

Hillary sank a finger into herself and grimaced. “Hand me the lube, dear. I’m as dry as dick skin down there.” He leaned over and handed the tube to her.

“Don’t I get you wet?” Barry asked. He absently wiped a single pearl of pre-ejaculate from the head of his engorged glans and tasted it. “Oh, baby. You’ve got to try this. I’ve been eating pineapple all week like you said and it’s delicious.”

 “I’ve been with Bill all weekend. Nothing kills my pussy like having to listen to his condescending drawl.”

“You want to watch a little porn first?” he asked.

“A little interracial butt stuff, maybe? See what you can find.” She kept tugging and lubing as he clacked away at the keyboard.

“BBC anal schoolgirl gangbang surprise?” he read. “Or maybe ‘Nigger cock petite training first time anal girl?’”

“Preview that last one,” she said, leaning forward.

“Can’t I just click it?”

“No, just hover the cursor over it. Jesus, it’s like you’ve never porned before.”

“Michelle doesn’t let me,” Barry admitted. “She says that if I want a big black cock, I can just suck hers.”

“I don’t know why you married that hideous shemale.”

“I didn’t have a choice. She said she was pregnant and didn’t want an abortion.”

Hillary smacked him across the face, leaving a shiny smear of lube.
“What was that for?” he whined, cradling his offended cheek.

“That’s for being an idiot. How you beat me in 2008 I will never fucking understand.”

“People were tired of the Bush and Clinton families forging political dynasties,” Barry said automatically.

“Did you get that off of the back of a cereal box?” she sneered.

“What do you mean?” Barry asked.

Hillary raised her hand to slap him again, but the door burst open before she could strike. A dozen Secret Service agents flooded into the cabin, weapons drawn.

“The perimeter has been breached!” the lead agent screamed, hurtling himself at the two of them. He landed on Hillary with a wet thud, smashing her pendulous breasts beneath him. He screamed “Protect the President’s erection!” A burly agent dropped his submachine gun and began jacking Barry off with a furious determination. The other agents fired their weapons out of the open cabin door until their magazines were empty.

Deafened by the fusillade, Barry yelled “What is the threat?”

“Raccoon, sir! Looked rabid. Or maybe racist,” the lead agent reported, yelling into Hillary’s breasts.

“Get off me, you idiot!” she said, pushing him away. The agents filed quickly out of the cabin.

“Sir, please resume illicit sexual relations!” the lead agent announced as he did his best to shut the battered cabin door behind him.

“Aren’t they just the best?” Barry asked no one. Hillary slapped him again.

I'm just a faded Southern belle without a dime...

"Ah want to drone you, fat boy," Lindsay drawled. He gently plucked the encrusted hairs ringing Chris' butthole until it blossomed like a flower.

"There it is," he whispered, forgetting his carefully cultivated accent. "You don't know how long I've wanted this, ever since I saw you hugging that skinny niggrah on TV."

"Abuse my freedom," Chris grunted. Peaches and crust dripped from his face.

"Get yore face down in that pie, piggy," Lindsay told him. "You don't come up for air, only for my cock."

Lindsay twirled his flaccid penis around, hoping it would awaken. He switched hands and took hold of Chris' bloated scrotum with his left. He ground the testicles together until Chris let out a burbling screech into the peach pie.

"Get hard, damn you," he said to his penis.

"I want you in me," Chris whined. He snuffled in crust and choked on it, coughing and shaking his ponderous body.

"Shut the fuck up. I got a Hellfire for you. I am gonna fuck you like a Muslim wedding, you fat fuck!" Lindsay screamed. He tried to stuff his tiny, limp member into Chris' gaping asshole.

"You like that, fat boy? You like that?" he screamed.

"Is it in yet?" Chris asked, finally daring to look back.

Lindsay screamed again, high-pitched and full of feminine rage. He pushed Chris over and angrily started trying to feed the remnants of the pie to Chris' pleading anus.

Melin-duh!

"Your skin is so dark on mine," Melinda whispered to Barry.

"You're not the first old white woman I have been with, but you are the whitest, girl," Barry cooed, his face buried in the brittle nest of her hair. "Your eyes are like a sled dog. I want to fuck you running on the tundra."

"Oh, Mr. President. You are so articulate," she whispered.

"Better fucking know it, bitch." Barry pull away from her and spit in his hand. "I'm gonna get your old pussy wet, and I'm gonna fuck it 'til it tears." He began to massage the white mess between her pallid thighs.

"I want your cock inside me, Mr. President!"

"Yeah, you keep calling me that. I'm gonna fuck you good girl. Hold on, though." Barry reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a little box. He deftly rolled a joint while Melinda watched in horror.

"Mr. President! You smoke the demon weed?!?" "Yeah, baby. Everybody does it. You wanna hit?" 

"No, sir! I'm shocked that you would even ask. I've overseen so many marijuana conviction under Eric."

"It ain't a crime if the President tokes it, girl. If you're not going to have any, why don't you start sucking my big old Presidential dick?"

Melinda watched him spark up the j and take a long hit before she bent to his crooked penis. Barry let the joint dangle from his lips as he used both hands to force her head down on his roach leg.

 Over her gagging Barry told her, "Now this is America, Amanda."

"Muhlinduh," she said around his bent member.

"Shut up, bitch."

Sex And The 99%

They are on a bed-bug-ridden futon in a converted loft in an abandoned paint factory in Greenpoint. The air reeks of heavy metals, soy candles, and multiple unframed college degrees that were loving letter-pressed on unbleached recycled paper. A thin wail issues from dying solar-powered iPhone dock speakers, the indie tweehards MGMT doing an ironic cover of Justin Beiber song bootlegged from an all-ages show. She touches his limp penis. He brushes against her giant pubic retro-bush. Simultaneously, they both hitch with a sob and rush off to update Twitter. This is the most successful sexual encounter either have ever experienced.