Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Daddy's Big Poopy Plunger

Another by Jennifer S. Chesler & myself.

Daddy's Big Poopy Plunger

Damn child got at my mature cheese and ate two pounds of the stuff, along with almost a whole loaf of bread. Now I don't mind giving her an enema, I'll slip anything in anywhere on her tight and hot little body. But before I thrashed her with the heavy sex belt I asked her, "Now what were you thinking, child? Does the palsy really make you fucking retarded?"

"I love cheese, Daddy. I hope I'm not in trouble. I know the Vermont aged cheddar is your favorite. Anything but the sex belt, if you have to punish me."

"Well, I'm going to help you, my child. You know Daddy's love wand, in his big pants? That works as a poopy plunger too. It will unclog you straight away."

"No, Dad, no. I don't want my poopy plunged. My back hole is so little and tight and you're such a big man."

Sometimes I think she does it on purpose. I pulled her granny's nightdress up around her waist and the cum was already drooling from the snarling head of my stiff rod. "Don't scream, my sweet little whore, you need this now." I thrust it straight into her. If we needed Dulcolax later, I had no intention of wasting lube. I'm not made of money.

"Oh god, please no. You're so hard and your rod is already crying the white stuff." She starts to cry. Tears stream down her round pink cheeks. She looks like a rouged balloon.

She screamed as I slammed it in. The mixture of tears and a scream of pain did the trick and I shot a huge load about two inches up her shitter. It solved her poopy problem. We hadn't fucked for hours and I was full of the stuff, the brown turds floated out on a sea of white jizz. After she sucked me clean, I told her I loved her, and wiped her mouth after wiping her ass with my cum-stained jocks.

She stopped crying and felt so much better after having her bowels emptied. "Oh, Daddy, you really are the best Daddy in the world. Can we go for a ride in the Silverado?"

I agreed. I had started to get hard again when she sucked the cum and shit from my cock. I would have a nice surprise for her during the drive.

Monday, July 16, 2018

Two new extremisms

Here are two new pieces from our forthcoming The Philosophy of Extremism III - co-written with Jennifer S. Chesler.

Oh, little Jennifer 
In the differend, something asks to be put into phrases, and suffers from the wrong of not being put into phrases right away.(Lyotard)

Daddy, my pussy burns from the cheap medicine.

It's called "inexpensive", and you need to get Daddy off faster to deserve the good stuff.

(What makes demands upon us is not the child as such, it is the words expressing themselves into a sense; she is the referent, the burning pussy is the referent, but there exists as given a disparity in power, an imbalance, where some are used. It is this that is the essence of which every haecceity can be seen to be a fraction. That about which the child remains silent is her desire, is the slow passage of time and her becoming. Daddy is never silent about nothing.)

Oh Daddy, where are the answers to my test?

Which text, little Jennifer? Look around my balls, ruffle the sac with your little tongue.

My pussy burns, I just peed again in the bed.

Oh, little Jennifer, I love it when you are special and hold your wrists all twisted and palsied.

I know, Daddy, it's sexy. I'm a big girl and I am sexy and I know joined-up writing too.

Ice cream comes after come

When I went to school today, I told Sally how I drank Daddy's pee from his big willy. She said that the last family that owned her would loan her out to their friends. One time they rubbed sick in her hair.

Daddy! Here was Daddy, in his brand new shiny red Silverado. He looked so handsome.

Is that your Daddy? Sally asked me.
He sure is, i said.

I went running up to the truck. He opened the door, slid over on the seat, and put me in the truck with him. I felt proud. I have the best Daddy in the world.

Jennifer, you know when we get home we can't eat dinner without some white stuff first.

From your hard thing? I asked. 

Yes, my rod. You can swallow as much as you like, if you're very good.

As a reward, Daddy?

Yes, little Jennifer.

I can't wait to get home.

Can I get an ice cream before we go home, Daddy?

You drink the white stuff first, and then we'll see. It's a waste if you get sick from gobbling my big rod and lose all the ice cream, isn't it?

We got home very quickly, and sat on the couch. I was on Daddy's lap. He put his arms around me and squeezed me around the waist.

No, Daddy, I said, and giggled.

He picked me up and put me on the wood floor facing his willy in his big pants. I knew what to do and started sucking like it was a popsicle. I was really in the mood for ice cream. He made some noises like he was dying and a poopy smell with a big fart too.

I had puked in my mouth, and swallowed it when his white stuff came out. I wanted to sit next to him but didn't want him to smell it because he had warned me about it before, and I really wanted that ice cream.

Well, little Jennifer, wanna go to Dairy Queen?

I sure was happy. What a great daddy I have.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Saturday, July 14, 2018

New book arrives

Here is Jennifer S. Chesler, with her new book of poems by me. The book is on sale here and due on Amazon etc. soon. Jennifer says that it redeems living in Anderson, Indiana.

Here it is on Google books too.

More importantly, here is Fragments by Jennifer herself at Amazon.

Monday, July 9, 2018

Incest & Piss

Jennifer S. Chesler & I wrote these, because we are such awesome people.

Little Jennifer's Perverse Preferences

In all honesty, little Jennifer admitted to herself that she enjoyed vanilla incest. She loved it when Daddy rolled his gross body over hers in bed, grunting and farting, and drove his stiff rod straight up into her tight little pie. She wished he weighed much more, since it felt so good when he pinned her down, smothering her and mumbling that she would always be sleeping here now, she could forget both Mommy and Tammy: they were no longer welcome in Daddy's big bed. His sweat would mingle with hers as she whimpered in ecstasy. "I don't care about mommy", she said, "I want you in me, Daddy."

I don't know what vanilla incest is, but Daddy says it's the opposite of what comes out of our bottoms. I think that's kind of gross and not at all like chocolate, because it's poopy. But if Daddy says I like vanilla incest, I want to know what kind of bug tastes like vanilla. He says he doesn't mean insect, but he doesn't tell me what he really means. He just takes his big willy, puts it between my legs, and squirts some kind of jelly in me and sticks himself up me. Lately he has been doing the insect thing every night. He is so heavy I can't breathe but this makes him get more excited so that he sticks his tongue in my ear.  He says I prefer when he gets on top and lies flat but his breath is so bad I have to turn my head to the side and think about flowers.

Jennifer is growing older and sometimes dreams of freedom, but she forgets to mention her whimpering groans, she forgets to mention the prison she cherishes, weighted down by Daddy's brutal flesh and impaled on his length. She dreams that Daddy will eat so much that he weighs four hundred pounds so she can sleep under his pendulous tits, and call him Nan. He would dress like whores did, centuries ago, in a nasty ancient tunic with a rosette trim at the top, and there would be more orgasms, more torture.

Nocturnal Showers

Daddy, I'm cold again.

Oh my god, little Jennifer, you're blue!

What's wrong with me, Daddy?

Quick, let me stick it in you. I like it chilled and I'll lie flat on you so you get warmed up. The pee in my willy comes out very warm too, and I can pee some over you if you're very good.

Really, Daddy, will you do that for me? Is that a golden shower? Are you going to make me pay?

Oh, little Jennifer, my golden showers are always free to my daughter. You're such a good little girl.

But Daddy, why am I blue?

Let's not worry about that right now. Take your nightgown off.

But I'm cold and blue.

I'll make you warm. Be a good girl now.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Latest solo on Google Books

Here is Poems for Jennifer III on Google Books. It's not on Amazon yet but I already approved my proof, so it's coming soonish.

Meanwhile, it's here at Lulu.

Not Being Dead Yet

Here's a new piece from our next & third volume of The Philosophy of Extremism, Fisting Fiesta.Until then, gentle reader, you are free to purchase the first two volumes of TPoE, Fragments, the masterpiece first novel by Jennifer S. Chesler, as well as various tomes of poems about her by scumbag scrivener McLean. They can be found at this link. Fragments is also available here at Amazon.

Not being dead yet

Chesler and I would assume the forms of flapping skin, night a pizza and Tammy, the sound of Daddy running his fingers over little Jennifer's skin sleeping as she squirmed waking up and asking who mommy was and why she was dead forever and Jennifer sleeping every night in her bed.

"Daddy, she asked me, why is it big and swollen and makes my tummy slosh around inside me like it was sad?"

She would never be old enough to understand the obvious answer that it was because she would never be old enough to understand the obvious answer.

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Poems for Jennifer III

I am very happy to announce the availability of a third book about my wife, Jennifer S. Chesler. They are on sale here from Nickel Hole Press. 

There are various influences. Mostly Lyotard & Deleuze, as usual, with the somewhat obvious Sacher-Masoch chosen for this special occasion. 

Here is the first book by the way, Poems for Jennifer, & here is the second one, Poems for Jennifer II, both at Amazon

This book is for my beloved Jennifer, & to the memory of her Rexie. 

Saturday, June 23, 2018

The Incredible Hulk

Not one but two collaborative pieces, by me & Jennifer S. Chesler. These are new & from The Philosophy of Extremism III. For now we have The Philosophy of Extremism & The Natural History of the Cockwomble: The Philosophy of Extremism II on sale at the links.

The Incredible Hulk 

I am a relative of the Incredible Hulk. No, I am not green, but my clothes rip when I flex my mighty muscles over David in bed. I bend my arms at the elbows and touch my fists together, Grrr, I say. I can see the fear in David's eyes, sometimes he even cowers. My rippling muscles glisten like they are oiled. My sebum production is unparalleled. Studies have been done on my skin's oil production because of how I shine.

Being a relative of the Hulk has its benefits. If I am angry when I get out of the shower, there is no need for moisturizer. David wants to write something, but I am not letting him, because I am a relative of the Hulk, and my skin is glistening as my muscles ripple through my clothes and tear them at the seams. Grrr, I say, David can't help it; he's scared. I see the look of panic come across his canine features. I want to rip him to shreds, but my human part stops me. I become like Bill Bixby; maybe I should give him a hug.

Fear and Loathing in Anderson, IN 

Today Jennifer decided to play dominant, since I took a leaf out of Masoch's book and sort of told her to be cruel to me. She pinned me down, with her massive BMI of a whole 20, and spit me right in the face, also over my hands, chest and head. She produces prodigious amounts of drool. She twisted my nipples, enough to cause some considerable discomfort, and slapped my face, cheeks and jaw, as hard as she could. She then decided to kiss me, and, as she did so, projected a copious wad of drool/snot into my throat. Oddly enough, the whole procedure produced a tremendous engorging of the beast, which led to her grinning salaciously and flipping over onto her back to apply the tremendous and most economical Isabel Fay Natural Water Based Lubricant. "I pity the fool", she said, "that uses Astroglide." She is evidently unaware that the Hulk and Mr. T are not the same large person.

The fear on his face, cringing as I raised my hand to slap his cheek, was palpable. I knew he would rebel against me and use his paltry strength against my Hulk bulk. The turning of his head to avoid the slap made it impossible to get an accurate hit, so I gathered enough saliva in my mouth to shoot down his throat when i pretended i was going to kiss him. "Ha ha ha," I laughed; I could tell he liked it. I used the massive strength in my quadriceps to pin him down while i held his face in place to exert more Hulk strength as I got a good slap in, only barely getting his jaw. "Grrr," I said. Boy, was he scared. Some of my natural body oil dripped onto his nipples. I took my fingertips and squeezed as hard as I could, it looked like milk came out but I may have been imagining this, because i was thinking about my mother.

Jennifer is a good girl, very imaginative, and maintained the Hulk fantasy even though I put one hand between her legs, lifted her straight up by her pussy, and flipped her over on her back, squirming like a beetle transfixed by a pin as I drove my stiff rod deep into her. It hurts right out into her ovaries, she claims. She resolutely refuses to follow any normal scripts, and cursed and groaned as she was savagely nailed to the mattress. I tried to explain to her that fucking her was totally unlike any pleasure I had ever felt, but this digression seemed to enrage the cat, who is a stickler for correct procedure. He left the bed that he had pulled up to a good vantage point to view the show, and disconsolately batted a toy around. I finished by a minute or so of bellowing and cruel and unusual banging, and she moaned most gratifyingly. She is the best daughter that a man could wish for.

Friday, June 22, 2018

New work by Jennifer S. Chesler

There are a couple of new posts on the blog of my wife, Jennifer S. Chesler. Here is Birth of a Portrait, & here is Little Jack.

These pieces are both drawn from Fragments, her book linked here from Nickle Hole Press. This is also available at this link from Amazon.

The book can also be seen in part via Google Books.

I have written three different posts about various aspects of the book further back in this blog.