The adventures of Buttman and Cuntwoman

“That isn’t what is going on here.” Cuntwoman says, pointing “Look!”.

We see Black Bull, his twelve inch cock hanging limp as he strides towards the mall offices near the middle of the mall. He has Red Bull with him, slightly more energetic, wings tattooed on his back, his twelve inch thick cock also limp, his balls covered by his medicine bag. They are nothing if not bulky, products of the weight rooms in the prison system, sexray vision says they are as bi as the day is long. Both 6’4″, 275 plus pounds of almost completely hard man meat.

“She is just a diversion. But how do we get past her?” Buttman agrees.

“I still have an orgasm grenade in my purse. If you could throw it into her twat, we could slip by her into the offices.” Cuntwoman proposes.

“I don’t know honey. I mean I like the plan, but I would have to skip it off the side of a planter like a stone on a lake, then underneath her lacy panties, and position it directly upon her clit. This sounds like a job for Cuntwoman to me.” Buttman says encouragingly.