deaddirty

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Oct 7, 2008
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With apologies to James Joyce - developing a bref scene in Ullyses;

Croppy boy on the gallows, noose-touch round his neck. Farm boy, fair hair, thick lips, coarsish face. Stripped to waist, old slightly dirty jeans, white of briefs just showing (old, not very clean).. Gut gripes, knows what wil happen when the noose bites, looks over the crowd 'I'll die a dirty rebel'. Unzips his jeans.
The trap drops, crowd cheers, croppy noosenecked starts to dance. Legs forward, back, swings round, back to face the crowd, legs up apart shows open zip. He struggles, hands up to clutch the choking rope. He feels the spasms start, his threshing legs, he's starting to perform. He fels hot piss in pants and jeans, the crowd begins to cheer. Gut tightenes, needs to drop his load, his buttocks clench. Feels his arse squeeze, maasive log against his pants, the push, the push, oh god my hole is stretched like being fucked. His legs lift forwards, jeans-seat bulge then feels it slidng round his balls.
Croppy boy has soiled his pants.
Another gut-burst, hot and sticky-damp inside his pants 'oh yes, I've soiled my balls'. His friends rush in, try to grap his kicking feet to pull them down, give croppy boy a quick and almost decent death. They miss his feet but pull his jeans - fly-button snaps, his jeans come down. His tongue protruding, dribbling, lopside leer at crowd, he arches legs-wide to the crowd. 'Let them see my shit-filled pants, brown-bulge front and back - and cock-rise, tenting bove the mess'. His pants are filthy, dribbles down his dirty thighs, his messed-seat jeans below his knees.
Croppy boy is dying dirty.
He cums, great gobbets through his pants, his asshole open voiding at the back. His friends look up, see all between his legs, take drops of spunk upon their faces, swallow with delight. His pants slip down to show his dirty twitching ass, his hard-on holds ths spunked-on waist up at the front. His friends reach up and pull it over,down. He arches up, showing the crowd his spunkng cock, his open dribbling twitching hole, his dirty thighs and filthy half-down pants.
His friends are gathered round him, round his twitching dying toes. They all have bulges, feel the tingles in their cocks and holes. They look at one another with one thought: 'tonight, the barn, let's hang'.
 
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