If you don't reply to this post your mother will die in her sleep tonight

If you don't reply to this post your mother will die in her sleep tonight

Other urls found in this thread:

youtu.be/SplVCkIxoxU
youtube.com/watch?v=f4DHrumDOMw
youtu.be/ccjofBuITnA
twitter.com/NSFWRedditGif

>>Help spread awareness of gay retards youtu.be/SplVCkIxoxU

rude

edgy

weed

If u breathe air today ur firstborn child will be sacrificed to Satan. You lose.

;

why

Ree

nbot this shit again

niceeme

my mom is actually pretty sick so can't take any chances

Elliot was a douche btw

.

...

fag

...

Not this time!

e d g y

no

...

Kys

fyck

Suck this nigger

...

jokes on you faggot, my mother died when i was 9

...

adgadga

Bitch plz

...

Skeep

ffs

You are a faggot

Also that has to be photoshopped - ? He looks fucking 300LBs

My mother died choking on my father's cum, which is why I don't have any siblings, dammit!

Fck you

8

k

How to do report?

SUCK A DICK FAGGOT

...

Edgy

no

Hmm

fag

n

Gay. Kys nigger

Reply

fag

Edge master

Death to all Jews

Sage goes in the options field

Who is that?

fuck

llhvikkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

This is you op
youtube.com/watch?v=f4DHrumDOMw

fgh

don't cut yourself on that edge

That nigga looks like my class mate

Zenzi

How about you faggots type
>sage
in the options field, so that the thread is not bumped

what a handsome gentleman.

KILL YOURSELF NIGGER

e

Fuck off

fuck u

G

uhhh

y tho

kys

ugh

...

...

aaa

Fak u

edgelord

xd

youtu.be/ccjofBuITnA

I dont want my mom to die. Then who would i have sex with?

I hate men

dON'T TAKE MAH MAAA

hi

...

Fuck you

ffs

immoino fjhj

edgy

fuck you in da butt hoooooooooo

All I see is Christian’s unruly mop as his head dips lower between my legs. His usual M.O. is to circle my clitoris with his slick, crackerjack tongue but tonight he’s doing something different and – it’s exquisite!

He presses his tongue flat against me as he laps at me with long strokes. He starts at the bottom and sweeps it upward in lazy, even lengths. Every time he comes up, I catch his eyes, blazing fire with pleasure and thick desire. Fuck! As always the pressure is just right and as he stops and re-connects with me again – there, yes! Right there! – I get a 1000 volt jolt, straight to my core.

I moan, almost scream as he flicks over my whole slit again. I so much want to grab his head and force his tongue to stay on me and stop this maddening teasing but both my wrists and ankles are tied to the bedposts. I buck my pelvis into his face but his leisurely pace doesn’t change. The heel of his right hand is firmly pressed down onto my pubic bone creating a delicious pressure. His left thumb is rubbing slow circles on my inner thigh, my whole being willing him to move it up – just an inch – and slip it inside.

rthrth

I glimpse his rippling shoulder muscles glistening with his perspiration in the dim light. He’s so freaking hot. Oh…! I’m so close. He senses my quickening and two fingers glide roughly through my wetness and straight to my sweet spot, the other arm snakes up my body where he pinches my nipple and twists violently. I shudder and groan in ecstasy, thrashing my head about as I detonate my release.

Holy fuck! My eyes fly open and I jerk up my torso, vaguely surprised that my restrains aren’t holding me back, where is Christian? My body is covered in sweat and I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon. I look around confused; I’m alone, in my bedroom, in my apartment. My body’s still weak, jittery from my grinding orgasm, apparently induced by yesterday’s events and my flaming hormones, finding an outlet, the only way it knows how – in a dream.

I flop back onto my bed, grab my pillow and drag it over my face. I force in a deep breath and let out a primal shriek whilst kicking my legs wildly, giving in to my child-like tantrum. The yell morphs into sobs and then hysterical giggles. What am I going to do? My way forward is completely blurred as a flash back of yesterday’s events play through my rattled mind.

The picnic was amazing, Christian was so gentle with Chris, he is such a kind and natural father. We left the park quite late and Taylor drove us straight onto the tarmac of the Miami International airport to board the Grey Enterprises jet. By that time Chris was exhausted. Christian gave him a quick tour, revelling in his innocent, awed excitement; he even let him sit with the pilot for a bit.

SAFE

By take-off his little eyelids were hanging heavy and low. Christian fussed over him, strapping him securely into the reclined seat and covering him with a soft blanket so that he could sleep. It tugged so hard at my heart that I had to look away at times, unable to watch how, after just one day, he was doting on his son. The melancholy bled like black ink into water.

After a quick, 40 minute flight, one of Christian’s new men met us upon arrival in Savannah. Christian introduced him as Collins. He was a perfect Taylor clone, bristling with efficiency. I briefly brooded over what might have happened to Sawyer. I hoped that I wasn’t the reason for his absence, that Christian didn’t fire him for failing to stop my covert escape but I was grateful that he wasn’t the one to collect us – if Taylor was mad at me, how mad would Sawyer be?

Christian carried a sleeping Chris from the plane straight into the booster seat of yet another waiting SUV. His sleepy eyes remained resolutely shut. That’s what a day of fresh air and excitement will do for you when you’re four. The thought had me smiling, warming my heart.

Collins drove to my mom’s house without the aid of any directions from us and dropped her off. My subconscious took the opportunity to remind me that Christian was indeed the ultimate stalker and I shrugged, undaunted – it’s not like I didn’t know.

I gave mom a bear hug and I felt her warmth along with her well wishes for me in our embrace. She knew how edgy I felt about Christian visiting our home.

The next stop was mine and the churning in my belly told me exactly how anxious I really was. All too soon Collins parked in front of my building and carried our bags up to the fourth floor. Christian lifted our son from the car and held him close, Chris’ head resting on his broad shoulder.

In an effort to dispel my angst I started jabbering as we walked. Even to my own ears I sounded overly chipper as I told him about Jo-Anne, the neighbour to the right of us. I mentioned that she had a son, the same age as Chris and how they were best friends – like only children can be. I stumbled through a list of all the good things I could tally about the building, that we’ve never had problems with crime and that it was well maintained – all the while feeling unreasonably defensive of the home I’ve made for us.

What will Christian think? The pressure was eating away at me.

At the front door I fumbled clumsily with the keys and wondered where the flowers I ordered were. I was expecting them to be waiting, ready to put me back on an even keel, restore the balance of power between us and maybe gain a clue to the depth of his reticence about our relationship. Oh well, nothing I can do about that now.

Collins placed our bags in the hallway, nodded his goodbye and left to wait in the car. I quickly made my way to Chris’ room with Christian tailing behind. I turned down his bed and closed the curtains. Christian laid him down, ever so gently. He just stirred and turned on his side, still far away in the land of nod. I pulled off his shoes and Christian asked if he could tuck him in and sit with him for a while.

So gay

“Sure,” I said and smiled to hide another lump I had to swallow past. I scurried to the kitchen to do some deep breathing and find my collected self. I made a pot of tea and started on coffee for Christian when he joined me in the kitchen.

The atmosphere between us was awkward and my conversation stilted: “Uhm,” I cleared my throat grappling for something to say. “Thank you for a lovely day and for dropping us back home.” I had my back turned to him but I heard him pull out a chair, taking a seat at the cosy kitchen table.

“You’re welcome Anastasia.” His tone was soft, hesitant and I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

I joined him at the table and we nursed our drinks, staring at nothing, lost in a maze of jumbled, hesitant thoughts.

“What’s wrong Anastasia?” His index finger slipped under my chin and he lifted my gaze to meet his.

I closed my eyes for a beat and basked in the small point of contact between us. I sighed, “I’m so confused Christian.” I answered him honestly and shook my head, “I understand your reservations, why you turned me down,” my look dipped down, studying my knotted fingers. “I know how much it hurt but why…” I faltered; too coy to say it out loud.

In that moment I seriously doubted my ability to read him, maybe I had misread the signs and he’d scoff at my presumption. I drew a bolstering breath, mustering all my courage as I squared my shoulders, “why are you so flirty with me?” I locked onto his eyes, pleading with him. “You’re… leading me on, torturing me.” I breathed, my face instantly blooming into a blush as I uttered the question that’s been nipping at my mind.

“Anastasia,” he began, running a hand through his silky hair and his grey look turned darker, “I can’t hide my attraction to you any more than you can hide yours from me. What’s the point?” He shrugged in resignation and continued: “we both know it’s there, we feel it all the time.” He was still watching me closely, looking to read the responding cues on my face.

Ahh!

“We torture each other,” he leant back against the chair, gaze still intent, “it’s always been like that with us.” His mouth set in an uncompromising line.

Obese nigger kill yourself.