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Brent Holloway pulled the oars and lifted the blades out of the emerald water, which trickled off in brilliant spangles of light. The back of his neck was like cinnamon baked in the summer sun. His hands were worn leather. His penis, fresh dug tuber.
Leon waited on the beach with his aught six. He caught the line Brent tossed and helped him pull the skiff up on the sand.
“Did you bring the map?”
“Well this is gonna be a mess.”
Brent led the way up to the cabin. Leon pointed the aught six at the back of Brent’s head and squeezed. Brain shower.
Brent’s body collapsed like an old man’s dick. Leon searched through Brent’s pockets and found the map. He unfolded it and when he saw what it said a merry little smile pranced on his face. He bent down to unzip Brent’s fly and began to scrape the thick crust of dirt off Brent’s tuberous penis. He took the four-leaf clover from his vest pocket and stuck the stem into Brent’s urethra.
Leon-the-leprechaun was gonna get his fucking gold.
Date Written: March 09, 2004
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 3.5714