He was not much of a gentleman, but King knew how quickly things could become unbearable if no attention was paid to lubrication. A zipper. Xxnx He watched, amused, as the thick cum settled in the tip, and then flung the thing into her rosebushes, where it hung, a discarded membrane. It was time for breakfast, and he felt like pancakes. Now things were almost too simple. King stood and stuffed himself back into his clothes. It was time for breakfast, and he felt like pancakes. Martin Luther King was ready for some hot action. It was time for breakfast, and he felt like pancakes. Of course, it hadn’t prevented the President from contracting syphilis on Earth, or from spreading his extensive catalogue of STDs through the Afterlife. A Lake of Fire, Chapter One
It was a mild day in Heaven, but then all days in Heaven
