Baba Chops X Simon Smoke Novels & Stories

All the while, he was slowly stroking his stiff shaft, his eyes glued onto Emma's large bulging boobs. "I still haven't f-f-fucked your ass, Emma..." Simon mumbled, smiling at her half-meekly and half-excitedly as his gaze kept straying toward the juicy plumpness of her bubble-butt. "God, it's so round and bouncy... I'm sure that I can p-p-pump at least a couple more big loads in your butthole tonight. I mean, f-f-for the research of course!"

Simon slid into the seat across from Linda, motioning for me to sit beside her. “Come on,” Linda urged. “Join us. It’s Sunday brunch—what else do you have to do?” Apparently nothing. I settled in beside her, listening as she and Simon launched into playful mate banter, their energy as warm as the sunlight streaming through the packhouse windows. Simon sipped his mimosa—yes, Simon—and quirked a brow when he caught me watching. “What?” he asked. I smirked. “Didn’t peg you for a champagne kind of guy.”

"You, child, sometimes think too much before doing things, leaving people unsure of what to say. Your uncle has no children, you are his only relative. If you need help, just say the word." Paige nodded and finished the drink in her cup, "I won't be polite to you." She chatted with Simeon for a bit and then headed back to that private room. Simeon raised his hand and patted her shoulder, "Go ahead, I came here to meet with business partners too." Paige gave Simeon a few bottles of good wine, even though she knew he didn't need them, but it was a gesture from a younger generation. Simeon chuckled and waited for her to leave, the smile on his face slowly fading away.

Simon asked looking around. “It can double as such but I like this style better. It’s easy to crank on it. Usually by the second joint or when the first appendage rips off, they really start spilling their guts.” Bring up a chair, I sat right by the crank. This baby has never failed me and it takes minimal effort. Simon pulled out some papers from his briefcase and kept making notes. A few times, he looked around the room and then back at Jasmine. “Are you fucking for real? You are going to let them do this to me?” Jasmine was glaring at Simon.

He boasted and raised his chin with pride. "Sure, you're not going over to cook poison?" Mason ridiculed and gave Prothero a pitiful gaze. Simon can cook? Bullshit! Perhaps pigs are ready to fly! Simon's eyes narrowed wickedly. "If you dare touch this young master's meal, I'll personally stab you. Slash. Slash. Slash." Simon raised his hand and imitated Hayden's slash moves and actions. Philip stared at the sky and began to question his life decision. "It's obvious that two people have gone crazy this week." Philip finally let out a long sigh, like an experienced Sage.

"Say something. Cat got your tongue? What were you smiling at, huh? Who told you you could smile?" The others in the room—his friends, his girls, his entourage—went still. Most of them had never seen this version of Charles. The kind with his claws out. The kind that didn't bother pretending. No one made a sound. "S...sorry," I choked out, barely able to breathe. I didn't bother to explain. He wouldn't have listened. He never did. "Go apologize to Rhyn," he barked. "Grovel at her feet. Say it like you mean it. Or you can pack up your shit and get the hell out of my house for good!"

The vegetables we use are mostly freeze-dried and don’t need chopping, except for the potatoes, so my next job is peeling and dicing them, so I get to work. It’s been more than a couple of hours by the time everything is cooked and we finish getting through the long line of warriors to feed. “Go sit with the others and eat, lad,” Luka insists. At this point, I’m hungry enough that I won’t argue, grabbing my bowl of stew and a ration of day-old bread and searching the crowd of warriors for Simon, my best friend. He’s not hard to spot, with his bright red hair standing out from the sea of blond and brunette like a beacon.

"It's honest. Not trying to be anything it's not." Something about that answer felt too real. Too much like him. "Favorite food?" I asked. "Anything I don't have to cook myself. You?" "My mom's chicken fried steak. I've tried making it a hundred times and it never tastes the same." "Siblings?" "No. Only child. You?" Simon's jaw tightened slightly. "No. Just me." The way he said it made me think there was more to that story. But before I could ask, we turned onto the ranch road.

"Sylvia, I know you've always liked Lawrence, but how could you destroy his card? Great. That was a black card with no spending limit. Hope you enjoy prison." She then lifted the two broken pieces toward Lawrence, her eyes glistening as she pleaded, "Call the police. Don't let her get away with this." Jaw clenched, Lawrence snatched the pieces and pulled out the latest iPhone to dial. I didn't flinch. I stood in the center of the crowd and looked straight at him. "I cut up my own black card. You're really calling the cops over that?" The moment the words left my mouth, Lawrence froze. The call had already connected, but he fumbled and hung up, staring at me in shock.

Book Three: Demon Child Just my luck, the moment my marshmallow browned to sugary perfection, my hand slipped a little too close and-poof-it burst into flames before sliding from the end of my carefully peeled stick and into the fire. Nuts. Simon's glasses reflected the campfire as he grinned at me around a mouthful of white, blackened bits sticking to his lips and teeth. The sight made me slightly nauseated and actually grateful my treat lay crisping to death on the coals.