As James C. Dobson, founder of the Family Research Council, plunged into me, again and again, each time more proudly and deeply, I bit down hard on his pillow, elegantly embroidered with the visage of Jesus Christ himself. “When would the pounding end?” I wondered, after hours, seemingly days, of his savaging my anus.
“FOCUS ON THE FAMILY!!!!” he cried.
I lifted my head, and found myself gazing at his family portrait, James standing proudly beside his lovely wife Shirley, and their beautiful adult children, Danae and Ryan.
This only made me more aroused.As I came onto the framed photo, and then collapsed, despite still being anally brutalized, my head swirled quixotically: “If I tell the media about this, I’ll ruin the anti-gay movement. But if I don’t, I can keep getting pounded by James C. Dobson.”And my choice suddenly became clear. I gritted my teeth, lowered my head, and raised my supple ass even higher. As James C. Dobson moaned and emptied his future progeny deep inside me, I knew I had chosen wisely