Here are Byzantine Thomas titles with best sellers like The Amazing Mosely Untreu Sex Guide, Eldon And The Sorority House Zombie Apocalypse, Weird Sex Tales, My Sexy Prep Room Teacher Is Also My Sexy Sex-Slave, and The Super Hard Series.
Man, you are so lucky to find this little ebook! Why? Well, probably because it’s only the most amazing ebook series ever produced. Welcome to The Amazing Mosely Untreu Sex Guide: For Fledgling Newbies & Accomplished Sex Fiends Alike by Dr. Mosely Untreu along with his small group of assistants: Timmy Johnson, Wally Mammoth, and Connie Cryer. This ebook is chockfull of Dr. Mosely Untreu’s amazing personal accounts with the opposite sex, bringing to light things that you never would have thought about in a million years. For instance, what do you do when your stepdaughter is constantly flashing you with her giant tits? Well, lucky for you Dr. Mosely Untreu knows exactly what to do and you will too after you read this amazing ebook!
It’s a zombie apocalypse and there’s nowhere to run! Nowhere to hide! Unless, of course, you’re Eldon Colquitt, a college sophomore, who hasn’t got lucky in over seven years. When the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan, Eldon had no interest in running. And saw no reason to hide. That’s because when the zombie apocalypse went down, Eldon was holed up in a sorority house. And suddenly Eldon got lucky. Very lucky!
Weird Sex Tales. That’s what you got on your hands, now. Little Weird Sex Tales. Not my problem anymore.
Weird Sex Tales Titles:
My Girlfriend’s Mother Gave Me A Much Needed Release
My Daughter’s Tiny Little Best Friend Has Practically Been Begging Me To Take Her For A Driving Lesson
Before My Girlfriend And I Were Allowed To Be Alone Together, Her Mother Insisted I Empty My Cock Inside Her Ample Cleavage
Who Am I To Say No When My Super Sexy Health Teacher Really Wants To Practice Her Blowjobs With Me?
It was Thanksgiving. The Kessingers, old and new, were gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. All except for Sara. And Sara’s parents, Ben and Melanie Kessinger, who were upstairs, standing in Sara’s doorway. Ben and Melanie’s hearts sank, as they watched their daughter sleep.
“The poor thing,” Melanie said, full of concern, not yet ready to leave her daughter.
“I know. I feel terrible,” Ben said, shaking his head, as he watched his stepdaughter sleeping hard. “I really do.”
“It was a full-blown TC?”
“Um. Yeah.” Ben shook his head, looking down.
“Oh. Well.” Ben thought about it. “Probably 3, 4 minutes.”
“Wow. The poor thing.” Melanie raised her hand to her face, starting to cry.
Ben moved in to console his wife, wrapping his arms around her.
“What did the doctor say?” Melanie asked, sniffling.
“Well. I guess Sara was off her meds, again.”
“Oh no,” Melanie said, frustrated, breaking from her husband and wiping her eyes. “Why would she do that?”
“Um. I don’t know. I guess the side effects.”
“She should know, whatever the side effects are, they’re better than a grand mal!”
“I know. I know.”
“So, that’s why she’s out of it, her little body’s readjusting to her meds.”
“Yeah, probably will be for a while.”
“My baby’s gonna miss Thanksgiving…” Melanie said, shaking her head and starting to cry again.
“I know.” Ben rubbed his wife’s back “I’m so sorry,” Ben said, tearing up. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t wanna leave her,” Melanie said, turning to her husband.
“Everyone’s waiting downstairs.”
“Oh, I just hate to leave her.” Melanie glanced back at her daughter.
“Okay, let’s go,” Melanie said, wiping her eyes, before she took a big breath and exhaled. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah. Okay. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine,” Ben said, almost to himself, as he looked one last time at Sara while he slowly closed the door.
27 hours earlier…
Can I help it if my girlfriend looks twelve years old? Seriously? What am I supposed to do? And what is she supposed to do? And what are we both supposed to do about everyone fucking judging us all the time? And who’s on first? And who the fuck is on second? And, and, and… well, you get the picture.
Hi, my name’s Billy Hamelin. You may or may not have heard of me. If you haven’t, I’m sure you’ve heard of my Dad, Wallace Hamelin. Yeah. That Wallace Hamelin, the inventor of the Trapper Keeper. Needless to say, after all the success of the Trapper Keeper, we were pretty well-off for a while there, before my Dad got sick and passed away in the mid 90’s. That’s what happens when you decide to have a son when you’re 63. It’s not like I’m mad at my Dad for being so old when he had me. It’s not like you can blame him. He is my Dad, after all. And even though I didn’t get a lot of time with him, the time I did get was pretty awesome, and I really do appreciate it.
By far, one of the coolest, and probably out-there things my Dad ever did for me was on the Christmas following my 18th birthday, when he bought me a sex-slave. Yeah, I told you it was pretty out-there. But, again, I’m not complaining. At the time, I thought I was pretty fucking lucky – excuse my French. And I still do. Especially when I found out who my sex-slave was, well, none other than my absolutely gorgeous and super sexy prep room teacher, Miss Rose.
Beau (Pronounced Bo like Beau Bridges) was a handsome devil. Very handsome. Probably too handsome. Which is probably why his landlady Nora took such a liking to him. That and the fact he was bad. So bad. Some might even call him Bad Beau.
Well, it just so happens that’s exactly what the ladies at the group home he grew up in and all his teachers all throughout his school years used to call him. But he wasn’t bad. Not really. Just free. Extremely free. And when you’re extremely free you tend to rub people the wrong way. Especially the people who would rather you weren’t so free. Like the ladies at the group home you grew up in and the teachers all throughout your school years. And your bosses. Basically, anybody in a position of authority. It seems like the whole lot of them just can’t wait to tear off another little piece of your freedom. Until there’s nothing left of your freedom.
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Not Beau. Not Bad Beau. He clung to his freedom like a second amendment fanatic clings to his AK-47. And yet, here he was, about to do the exact opposite. Funny how that is. Bad Beau was about to give up a very big piece of his freedom, to none other than his brand-spanking new fiancée Margaret, who, more than likely, once they did the deed, and tied the knot, was going to want the rest of his precious freedom lock stock and barrel. And whatever was left, the pittance, well, that would go to his future mother-in-law Lillian.
Well, not if Beau’s landlady Nora had anything to say or do about it. And luckily, for her sake, and for his sake, she did. Luckily, she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Just the right mix of spells and potions. Of course she did. What self-respecting ex-witch wouldn’t?
Apparently wandering out into the middle of a cornfield in the dead of night and taking out your massive cock, just to let it breathe a minute, and grow and stretch in your hand, and eventually get that much needed release, is like the absolutely best advertising for being abducted by aliens, especially slave-trading aliens who scour the universe in search of various lifeforms to enslave and sell, kind of like house-flipping but without all the fuss of shining that turd-box house you bought, but not too much, just enough to turn a profit, since all you have to do in the slave-trading business, apparently, is catch and release to the highest bidder, and I should know, because it happened to me.
Okay, so the first thing you do when you come into a lot of money, like I did when my filthy rich grandfather died, especially if you think you hate people, is buy an island and build a big house on it and begin to live out your life as an ultra-hermit.
However, invariably, what happens after, over time, is you start to realize maybe you don’t hate people, maybe you might even like to have some people around, well maybe just girls, maybe just cute girls.
So, then you put an ad in some well-circulated papers and magazines about The Cutie Conservation Center, which is really just your last name, as in Hamilton Cutie, where people might like to send their unwanted cuties, for whatever reason and for however long, which is probably a thing, maybe, and, for a small fee, their cuties, like a bird sanctuary or autobahn society, would be protected, from what, I haven’t got a clue, until that same cutie is wanted again.
And so, that’s what I did, some hundred or so cuties ago.
The predominately all-female faculty at Florence Nightingale High School have arrived at an almost collectively self-imposed mission to convince one of its new students, a deeply troubled, but particularly gifted, and rather well-endowed young stranger in a strange land, that he was wrong to write his paper: School Sucks, or, as it just so happens, maybe he was really right.
My best friend Johnny was like, “Hey, it must suck having to sleep on the floor every time you spend the night. Ya know, if you want, you can take my mom’s bed.” I narrowed my eyes, thinking it was just another practical joke in a long line of practical jokes Johnny played on me through the years.
So, I was like, “Uh, duh. Sure. Whatever.”
And he was like, “No, I’m serious. My mom spent the last 6 out of 7 nights over her new boyfriend’s house, so she’s probably gonna spend the night there tonight, too.”
And I was like, “Seriously?” I was surprised. I didn’t think Lucy and her new boyfriend were that serious.
And he was like, “Gees, yes. I mean, dude, I’m just thinking of you. I just want you to get some good sleep for once. Instead of sleeping on the floor.”
And I was like, “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
And he was like, “Fine. Whatever.”
And I was finally like, “Okay. I’ll sleep in your mom’s bed. It’s weird, but I’ll do it.”
And he was like, “What’s weird about it? It’s just a bed.”
I nodded and got up and headed into Lucy’s room, sealing my fate to what happened next.
I don’t know what it is but somehow, when the universe gets a whiff of you having a big stupid super hard 12-inch cock, suddenly every woman and their mother can sense it. And suddenly, every woman and their mother wants to see it, and naturally, suck it, fuck it or do some other god-awful thing to it. And let me tell you, it can be super hard to convince them otherwise!
When the universe gets a whiff of you having a big stupid super hard 12-inch cock, it’s almost as if your best friend’s mom can’t get it through her pretty little head that you’re relatively new to sex, so you’re almost always about to come. All she seems to care about is when she can get that big stupid super hard 12-inch cock inside her, and hopefully for longer than a second or two, this time.
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