Genital Grinder Read Online Free

a look.”
    Greg set the underwear down for future inspection and indulgence beside her purse
    (Liz Claiborne, as were the high heels twenty yards further down Sherman) and turned. It didn’t take him long to see what had spooked Von. Genital warts stared back at him, an algae of shame which had burst open in a few places due to one or another of the night’s mishaps. If for some reason he hadn’t seen them, his nose would have notified him quickly enough. The reek of the mucus-like fluid raped his olfactory senses right up the ass.
    “Damn, Von . . . that’s almost enough to make a man reconsider.”
    “You speak the gospel, Greg; it really is almost enough. But given we’re a couple of resourceful bad-asses, help me flip over Orca here and we’ll try plan B.”
    Plan B wasn’t much better. Von felt like pointing out the obvious, so he said, “She’s got a bunch of black beetles crawling out of her asshole.”
    “You see!” Greg shouted. “I told you it was Sarah Pensie!”
    Von decided he didn’t want to know exactly why this observation legitimized Greg’s theory, and didn’t ask. He grabbed a can of Raid off a nearby workbench and sprayed about half of it into the infested orifice. Insecticide and vaginal befoulment battled for olfactory prevalence in the confines of the basement.
    This couldn’t be very sanitary, but you only live once.
    Von didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he was still ever most thankful for this apparently sexually adventurous bounty bestowed upon them, but this particular gem had admittedly lost a little luster beneath the jeweler’s magnifying glass. He decided he could afford to savor a bit longer, maybe give his senses a bit longer to acclimate to the godforsaken reek.
    Von clapped Greg on the shoulder. “Suit up and go to war, soldier.”
    Greg gave him a thumb-up, obviously trying not to breathe in. “Lock and load.”
    He started unbuckling his pants. Von didn’t necessarily want to be around to witness what was going to happen, but he didn’t trust her alone with Greg.
    He was going to at least busy himself with other pursuits when something caught his eye: Greg’s asshole looked incredibly chafed and swollen. Von tried not to let his gaze linger, but the image haunted. It solved many a mystery—why Greg had been squirming in his seat all night and the probable truth behind why he’d curiously asked to borrow Von’s toilet brush a couple days ago.
    I keep pretty sick company, Von thought, opening the woman’s purse . Look at him . Sodomizing himself with household utensils was just the tip of the iceberg. The crazy bastard wasn’t even wearing a condom.
    Von opened her wallet, trying to ignore the grunts and Greg’s awkward breathing, apparently searching for the air of least resistance. Triumph soared in Von’s breast. “Hey, Greg, I told you it wasn’t Sarah Pensie! It’s just some whore named Claire Perkins.”
    Greg finished his tenure in Claire’s ass, then pulled out so quickly that he lost equilibrium and slid backwards on the floor. “Claire Perkins!” he yelled. “Man, it’s a good thing I chose the backdoor—this bitch is my cousin! I wouldn’t have felt right about sticking her box.”
    Von snorted. “ Well . Let a real man show you what it’s all about. Help me get her face-up again.”
    They rolled her again. Von took a grease rag off a work bench and tried to clear the runway. Her chancres gave way and burst beneath the cloth, soaking through to his fingers. It felt like popping the bubblewrap cushioning a package. A mantra ran through his mind each time another sore exploded: “It’s okay, I have a condom . . . It’s okay, I have a condom . . . It’s okay, I have a condom …”
    The prize he uncovered admittedly wasn’t worth the effort. He’d seen raw hamburger at McDonald’s more fetching than this. Beggars can’t be choosers, he thought. He slipped on the condom and eased into her— carefully putting his