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Pleasure Island

Getting to the Bottom of Things

added by D 16 years ago A

Dean moaned softly as his full donkey-hood stood erect. He steadied himself on the door frame, as his knees felt suddenly weak. His hormones were raging wildly.

He needed a distraction. Baseball stats wouldn't be sufficient this time. He needed something else to focus on. His eyes locked on his brother's bareass facing the door. He shook his head and forced his eyes to study the cheap print hanging on the hotel wall.

It was a print from William Shakespear's A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, and depicted a donkey headed youth, Dean remembered was named Bottom. He found it hysterically funny, and doubled over dropping to his hands and braying with laughter. Bottom. He was bottom. The two naked bottoms in bed before him. He had wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery of Pleasure Island, and it would seem he'd bottomed out.

Sam and Max sat up at the sound of the braying donkey. The heavy musk emanating from Dean's loins hit them both at once, and they instantly popped boners. It was like they were in a pheromone induced trance. They rose like sleepwalkers and stumbled over to worship the donkey man's muscular body. Feeling the twins hands and lips on his body was too Freaky for Dean.

He jerked away, and bellowed, "Sam, it's me Dean--your brother!"

"Yeah, right, Dean, whatever you say," Sam answered in a sleepy voice craning his neck to suck Dean's right nipple. His twin Max went for the left nipple. Dean was soon sitting with his butt on his calves and swishing his tail in ecstasy. He closed his eyes and leaned back. When he opened them he was staring at Bottom's print, and the twins' heads were buried in his crotch. Max or Sam had impaled Dean's monster cock down his throat, while the other had captured Dean's pendulous balls in his mouth. Both were surprisingly skilled with their tongues.

Dean blinked, and shrugged.

"What the hey?" he brayed, "I might as well enjoy this for a little bit. At least until I've blown a load or two. If Sam complains, well, I did ask him to stop, but he refused," Dean rationalized. His conscience was still tweaking him. It felt so good, but also so wrong.


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