Fuck a Duck

I almost laughed at how furiously his little white tail was wagging as I slowly pushed my cock inside him. His channel seemed tighter than it had been back in my bedroom, but I managed to mount him amidst quite a bit of quacking. The quacking subsided fairly quickly into moaning though, and soon he was pushing back at my thrusts inside him and murmuring "Yes, fuck me, fuck me. You're so big," in a weak tenor voice.

When I had come, I stood up and away from him, tossed out a "Surprise, Donald! See you back at the resort," and left him there, panting and moaning.

I returned to Parliament House thirsty, but happy and decided to go to the resort's strip bar for another drink.

Entering the bar, I did a double take. Donald was dancing a pole in just a G-string.

He saw me, but it was several minutes before he was able to leave the stage. "Couldn't get enough of me?" he asked with a smile.

"Got that right. But how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How did you get back from the park before I did? There some quicker back route between Disney and here than Interstate 4?"

He gave me a quizzical look. "Don't understand what you mean. I was called off my evening shift at Disney tonight. So I took another shift on the pole here."

I said nothing, but I felt so traumatized by the mistake I had made that I had to take him back to my room and fuck the quack out of him all night long.