The Legend of Big Ass Cass

THE LEGEND OF BIG ASS CASS
Looks like I’ll be dropping out of the second chance school
Because I missed too much class
Perpetually online, just a fool
For the ass
Of a particular suburban lass
Cassiopeia – let’s call her Cass
Pasty faced and overweight
she wasn’t particularly attractive, striking or noteworthy
But her bio said she was a fiend for my color cock and soccer jerseys
Wrote her an email
Introduced myself as Pele
She wrote back immediately
Said she enjoys drinking babies
And earned a degree in deep throat
From the Gaping Anus long distance school
Where they make ordinary housewives into drug mules
Butt plugs of cocaine would temporarily displace her stools
After taking the correspondence tests
Cass was considered ready for her diploma,
She met some area “teachers” who gave her the name Paloma
Booked a Peter Pan bus from Miami to Port Authority
When she arrived she was met by a professor of some seniority
A reformed lot lizard named Dorothy
Who told her some stories
In the cab over to a hotel called the Plaza
Cass was shocked, she thought they’d be going to a ghetto nicknamed Gaza
Dorothy handed her over to a one armed priest and a laugh a lot cop
When in the room, one kissed her while the other began massaging her twat
Her subsequent orgasm made her anus slightly dilate so the drugs were easier to spot
She was flat on her back bent, wet as some water
She told the cop to pull out his nightstick and the father to discipline his “daughter”
Lubing his hand, the priest roughly spread her ass cheeks
The cop fed her his dick so she couldn’t speak
One finger, two fingers, three fingers, four
The priest told her she could take one more
Then his palm and his wrist
The cop’s balls were on her nose when the priest began to twist
Cass tasted pre cum
The cop’s murmurs would soon become shouts
The priest thanked God that the coke had come out!
While washing his hands and watching the two in 69
The priest stared at the ass
Of non descript dumpy Cass
Muttering “pinhole to funnel”
The tight puckered button now resembled a tunnel
He approached the bed again, waved off the cop
Lubed up his fist and began to play train
Taking this in, cop’s cock erupted and rained
All manner of DNA stains
On her face, chest, hair, bedspread and the carpet
Zipped up his pants, jokingly said that she should be put on the market
His lunch break wasn’t near over but his cock wouldn’t rally
So the cop left with the coke and the priest, forearm deep, started talking of alleys
Near his church where she could market her body
For all of the profits he’d wouldn’t treat her too shoddy
She could douche with holy water and sleep in the cathedral lobby
She laughed, coy in voicing her objection
The blood in your brain has clearly all gone to sustaining your erection
My bottom’s my bottom, I’ll do as I please
If I’m such a commodity, I won’t charge any fees
Role playing is nice but your power tripping is real and clearly a disease
The priest growled at hearing such insubordination
Strong words from a female was such an unknown sensation
He tried to pull his forearm out of her to slap her
But her anal cavity clenched
God’s star player knew that he was being benched, entrenched
His breath quickened and his testicles tightened
Somewhere deep in his vestments, his long dormant cock brightened
As his brain flirted
Sending telegrams
The sin of Onan, so long repressed, could not be averted
Bishop Donavan, after 30 years, had finally squirted!