Stacked Bob With Undercut Novels & Stories

"He's really all that big?" Carol looked at me, also suddenly aware of the essential weirdness of this conversational divergence. "You really want to know?" she asked with a sly smile. I shrugged and nodded. Might as well satisfy my curiosity, and nothing about what we were talking appeared to have had diverted Carol's efforts to pleasure my dick. "Bob's is nine and a half inches long. I measured. And he is as big around as you are." She stopped stroking my cock so she could wrap her hand around it, as if to check her measurements. "Yep. Almost exactly as big around. But his does bend noticeably to his left. It always looks a little weird to me, even after all these years."

he rasped, “love to see you work The Pit, you arthritic son of bitch. Probably fall and break your neck, then find some way to blame it on one of us assholes . . . ” Bobby’s rant trailed off as his right foot caught on a steel beam hidden in the rusted jumble. He hopped on his left foot until he stepped on a pile of rusted chain. The links slid under his heel, toppling him backward. With a shout, arms wheeling, he fell sideways; sure he would impale himself on some jagged piece of metal as punishment for his slander against the scrap metal god of Clifton Heights . . .

Krystal's resolute nod reinforced our commitment to follow his advice, understanding the necessity of maintaining a low profile in this volatile Following Krystal's lead, I followed her towards the bar, the familiar strains of Bob Seger's "Main Street" resonating through the air. The choice of music only confirmed what I had already suspected – we were indeed in a biker bar. In my mind, Fat Bob had always been associated with images of Harley-Davidsons, cold beers, and Tom Cruise's infamous underwear dance. Little did I know that tonight, I would be adding toothy strippers to that rather eclectic mental picture.

Bob gestured at them to leave while he shut the door hastily. Immediately Bob marked up his face with a pretentious smile to hide his frustrations from her. Barney looked at him bewildered as though she was wondering if he'd never gives up. She deliberately ignored the smile on his face and simply stared at him. "How are you doing sweetie?" Bob facing her asked in a firm but not unpleasant tone still maintaining the fake smile. He was a fair skin chubby man with ice blue eyes, perhaps about her own father age. He wore dark, fitted trousers and a fitted blue and white plaid shirt with golden necklace that glitters in the light of her lantern. Around his waist he tucked up a silver pistol with

CHAPTER 2 As soon as they got to Bobby’s, they pulled off their clothes and the more Bobby saw, the more he liked what he saw. Mitch was big and solid from top to bottom. And that dick, long and thick! And a beautiful set of balls. This guy was hung. He’d be perfect to use the rope on. Bobby unrolled a mat for them to wrestle on and said, ‘We can start with you getting a hold on me. Lock me up any way you want.’

It feels like I’ve seen it before but I’m worried it’s one of my sister’s friend’s cars and they caught us. Anya and I look at each other, having no idea what’s happening. We did not move an inch as we watch the windows of the back seat roll down. “Sadie?” I hear a familiar voice from the car. My eyes start sparking with excitement. “Bobert?” I jog to the car and it is who I think it is. Bob is sitting by the window with a new look. His long purple hair is now short, though the curls of his hair make him look hot enough to be mistaken as a K-pop boyband member. He has circular sunglasses on and his outfit’s a fancy black suit, which makes him look like a common hot CEO protagonist in web nov

I turned and walked away, my heels striking the stone floor. “Remember this. Whoever I choose to lift can become an underboss. Whoever I choose to destroy can only end up as trash.”

The next day... Bob stood in front of a club in a rumpled business suit. He'd removed a few buttons of his shirt, and loosened his slanted print checkered tie, making him seem like an alcoholic employee in search for where to get their heads off after a long day at work. He wore an unkempt brown wig that covered the upper part of his face and placed rough brown fake beards around his chin and mouth to match. As he approached the club, Bob laid eyes on several men and women with their gazes focused on either their drinks or searching through the crowd that streamed into the club as they leaned on the walls, hanging around.

Seeing how stressed I was he tried to lighten up the conversation by smiling and saying, “Ok, cool where is the liquor at? If you need him here that’s how you do it. Apparently, he really likes Jim Beam, so let’s start with that.” All I could do was laugh after that. It’s been a couple of years since Robby has had any liquor, because of the “Bob” problem. One shot is all it takes, and Robby is gone, but “Bob” is too good at playing Robby. Nobody knows the difference until he has drunk a fifth or more, than “Bob” drops the act and is total darkness and evil. Picking at me and picking at me; trying to get me pissed enough to switch myself to Orna. I’m not going to lie, just Robby can drink, he

Big Bob added. -