They hurt like holy hell. Then he hung some heavier weights from my balls, and those hurt terribly. But I knew I was his to do with as he pleased, so ... accepted his torture silently, except for the moaning. When he was satisfied that I was in sufficient pain, he stood behind me and started roughly fucking my ass, slamming his cock in me until I could feel his huge balls bouncing against my own balls. The motion of the fucking caused the weights on my tits and balls to swing around, increasing. And produced that underrated tribute to my kind -- "Typewriter in the Sky," of course. Subsequently he went on to found a religion, but that's a different story.Oh, the things I've seen, the songs I've played, the scenes I've sung, the tales I've typed. Sex. Madness. Despair. Exaltation. Hot passion. Cold rage. It's a wonder my battered old hulk has survived it all.And here I sit atop rotting orange peels inside the dumpster, waiting for the trash haulers to take me away. I've seen better. More

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