Date: 2007-05-23 05:32 am (UTC)
"Admit it, Blue Dude," Pink Guy growled as he shoved his nerdly stylus into the larger hunk's coy, quivering hole. "You bought the hype. The jump-cuts. The flash ads. The third-rate-video-game fantasies. You wanted to be cool. You wanted to pose for cheap commercials about us to run at 3 AM on Comedy Central and maybe even get a cameo drinking horse jizz in Jackass XIX. You believed in that 18-34 male demographic."

"Yes, fuck yes," Blue Dude sobbed as he was painfully, lubelessly reamed and it felt so, so good, like he was born for this, like he sprang from the forehead--or was that the thigh--of a dot-com entrepreneur with a great ivory brow, only so that he could spread his thick but useless legs for a scrawny but brilliant man who'd learned long ago the way to charm women was to eyefuck other men in their sightlines. Preferably in the TARDIS.

"No advertisements on this ass," Pink Guy declared, slapping it. "It is ALL mine, and I'm going to tattoo crossover furry art there." It was the thought of Boromir and Anakin as copulating meerkats that made him come.
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