Pussy-Rocket tucked away, Johnny Quimshot fingers his jumpsuit closed. Leaving the Coitusian pan-sextuplets to fight over the copious fuck-fest spillage on the station floor, he heads for Zorp’s Zoups.

“Gimme some shrill-cum. And plenty of worms, dickless!” he yells to the Narle working the counter.

“Fresh out my ass, monkey boy,” the harried blue vapor wheezes, plunking down the bowl.

Opening his crotch sheild, Johnny pours in the glowing gruel. His freshly installed cognizant-ultra-cunt greedily slurps her dinner.

“Eat slow, bitch! Kouchie Killer’s expecting us and he don’t like pukers!”

Will she end things with a cock-up? Back after this






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