50 Shades of Brimley

It was a day not unlike any other. The sun was out, birds were outside likely having springtime sex, and Wilford Brimley just got out of his latest shooting of his Liberty Medical commercial. However, something felt slightly off for Wilford today, as if he had a craving that his shitty diabetic candy couldn’t quench; yet he couldn’t quite place his calloused finger on.

Looking down at his crotchal region, Brimley realized he could feel the tightening of his Temple Garments around his loins as his Oats began to Quaker, and it was at that moment that he realized what he was craving… Brimley wanted to make fuck with a woman. After all, it’s been years since the last time Brimley was even able to feel the sloppy pleasure juice of another woman upon his Harry and Sons, on account of his diabeetus. But something today was different, and Brimely knew it.

Getting into his car, Brimley knew the perfect place to go in order to quench his thirst… The Bunny Ranch in Nevada, where he would first grab a refreshing soda before his face would go spelunking into a working girl’s cavernous cooter. The sheer thought of her pink roast-beef labia was getting Brimley all fired up, not giving much room for anything in his pants A Place to Grow.

As Brimley rolled up to the Bunny Ranch in the outskirts of the Nevada desert, Brimley realized that he’d been on the road for much of the night. Looking at his clock, he realized it was about 10 to Midnight; yet Brimley was feeling more awake now than he had all day.

Brimley entered the front door, noticing immediately several beautiful young ladies standing before him, as their clothing draped to the side, with their bouncy fun-bags hanging out for all to see. This pleased Brimley as his mustache began to tingle. He already knew which girl he would take… the Boarderline fat one. After all, there was something special about the heavier girls. Maybe it was because they were similar in stature, or perhaps it was because her weight indicated that she was a stone’s throw a way from the beetus, and that he might be able to sign her up for Liberty Medical. Either way, she was the girl for him this evening.

When the two of them arrived in their room, Brimley could hardly contain himself. As the girl slowly began to undress, he could feel the twitching of his mustache become much more violent.

“Don’t worry Mr. Mustache,” Brimley muttered to himself. “You’ll get nice and crusty from her True Grit in a moment.”

Immediately after the girl’s gown dropped the floor, she was up on the bed, spreading her legs wide open, beckoning Wilford to come over and tongue-slap her fart-box. As Wilford got on all fours, Brimley attempted to show the girl that he was truly a maestro of the sphincter as he stuck his tongue In & Out in one of the most incredible Brim jobs anyone has ever experienced. The sensation of Brimley’s tongue slapping against her butthole was almost more than she could bear as she was finally unable to control herself, releasing The Path of the Wind into his mouth. Brimley sucked it in all at once, trying to taste every ounce of her, and enjoying her scent on his now crusty mustache. He felt as if she had been Heaven Sent if only for this particular moment in time.

Unable to control himself, Wilford dropped trou and was feeling eager to unleash The Electric Horseman upon her sloppy love-box. But there was a problem. The beetus was refusing to allow for Brimley’s pecker to become anything more than just a limp bizkit. Undeterred however, Brimley reached into his pants pocket to pull out his insulin shot, only to stick it in his wiener.

Releasing a slight moan as the prick pricked his prick, Brimley looked down as The Thing grew nice and hard, and thrusting it deep inside her Cocoon. Now this girl’s cooter was no Death Valley, as she was fucking wet as fuck. Instead, she was dripping moistness like Lunker Lake, making each thrust difficult to stay in, making her puss a Hard Target to stay in.

She released a nice loud moan, remarking that his Stone Boy was The Firmest she’s felt. But Brimley wasn’t convinced that he was Tough Enough. So Brimley reached back into his pocket and inserted another shot of insulin in to his pee-pee, and this seemed to do the trick. Brimley felt a sudden burning urge in the tip of his geriatric cock, almost as if he was about to make thick white pee.

Suddenly, Brimley started to convulse violent as he was about to ejaculate inside of her, and losing control of his body and his speech, Wilford screamed out…

“B-B-B-B-B-B-BRIMLEY!” Semen exploded from the tip of his flaccid piss stick, filling up the girl on the bed. However, not all was as it would seem.

The level of toxicity from the insulin in his Thousand Island Dressing love sauce filled the poor girl on the bed, sending her body into seizures and convulsions as she went into toxic shock.

Brimley stood above the lifeless body of the corpse, having now been shrouded in guilt over her death; he reached out with his hands to close her eyes so that her lifeless body wouldn’t stare back at him. It was creepy as fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Wilford muttered quietly beneath his mustache. “It looks like you died-a-beetus.”

Wilford solemnly turned around from the now dead hooker, remembering why he no longer makes fuck to women, and transformed into the Brimley Cat where he jumped towards the window. It was there that Brimley would spend the rest of the evening.

The End of part one.