Free Invasion by Mary E. Palmerin, Poppet Page B

that metal protrusion while choking her face purple. The choker chain seems to get her screeching like a dolphin in a red tide, riding an inanimate object like she’s practicing for when she hits the third level of her afterlife hell.
    Then I opened the next video which was so closely filmed that at first I thought it wasn’t focussed. It was before the clit-cloak piercing, and she had her fingertip completely covered by the flap, pushing into her piss hole, three cucumbers in her snatch, clamps on both nipples attached to a piercing through the middle of her nose, and was moving up and down on her roided-cock dildo up her anus.
    I lost so much semen watching that that my man-card has been revoked, because the hormone nazis couldn’t detect any testosterone left in my blood.
    Just thinking of it now has me so horny I need to sink into something tight, and wet, and I don’t really care who it’s attached to. Weird fact: gel pain-packs make a great fap fold. They’re hot and soft, wonderfully pliable like a cunt, slippery as fuck with a bit of Carly’s tingle lube, and a great relief to one particularly incessant aching muscle.
    Carly has made me hard, desperate, ready for her to get home so I can stick my finger in her piss hole and dock with her.
    One evening I discovered the memory trunk containing her old school photos, albums, random paraphernalia from medals to memorabilia of her bachelorette party, and diaries! As much as I’m fixated on boning her to the next dimension I also now have an insider’s view into the life she’s lived. It’s not pretty.
    Her face is so sweet and attractive that it’s hard to imagine how much pain is behind her sensual smile. Her mom and dad were dead on the 23 rd December six years prior, and because of it she has hoarded every birthday card ever given to her from them. She has journals jammed with her life before and after Mark.
    Call me nosy, with too much free time to burn, because I read them all. She has neat handwriting, and sometimes puts hearts on her i’s instead of dots. It’s this subconscious throwback to more innocent times that unravels the thread to the tapestry I’ve accumulated on her intel, on Carly, who I erroneously am already thinking of as my Carly. She’s manic as fuck in the bedroom, but everything else is ruin and hardship. She’s got no one, and the family she should’ve had weren’t family at all.
    I know what he did. Fuck do I know what he did, and he’d better hope I never meet him in a dark alley. Just thinking about him makes me want to go out and slaughter a cocksucker. It’s the holidays and they’re meant to be happy. Carly’s holidays have been anything but. Christmas is the time of year when grandmothers whine about not having grandchildren, of no presents for babies under the tree, so she’d stick it to Carly by giving her only baby presents for the impending pregnancy each year for her birthdays and christmases.
    What a spiteful tart. She also banned Carly from alcohol consumption or recreational drugs. Poor babe, that bitch sure wanted a baby bitch to call her bloodline, her prodigy, her legacy. Carly put out more often than a McDonald’s drive through, but she just didn’t win the ‘we are pregnant’ pageant. Didn’t stop the bitch from using Carly to scratch her malicious itch, though. Carly was her scratch post and mother-in-law has claws.
    Christmas is supposed to represent a time of love, of forgiveness, instead Carly had to suck up barbs and jibes, given bottles of folic acid and onesies, and How To Please Your Husband / Be a Good Wife manuals. I have no fucking clue what my home life was like, or if I even have a home life waiting for me, but I do know if my mother treated my wife the way Carly was treated I’d have moved us to the other side of the world. I’m a vicious bastard but even I know a man protects his woman, from everything.
    Everything!
    Completely at home I tried watching TV, then killed that faster