Prednisone antacid

That was killer. Can't wait for the next part. First though, I need to go out and buy another bottle of antacid.
5-star work.
Hooked

Amazing. Your wriring abilities aré AMAZING. this is by far the best story Ive read EVER. The way you described things were easy to read and so sexy so turning on.
I feel like usually I have to make an effort to follow the stories. but this just reads itself.
The antacid thing was funny in a light and fitting way. Wasn't expecting for this, perfect humored ending after my climax.

Ironic that I'm hopped up on prednisone & some antibiotics that I think are called Godzilla. I've got pneumonia gagantuosa, & lo & behold your story speaks to me. I love the sweet, gentleness of this story, how so many people show their concern & caring. The worst thing after a rape is the loneliness & I'm glad that wasn't part of the mix. You are a joy to read & a gifted writer. I'm moving on to the next installment, happily, because I have the company of a beloved writers stories to help me heal.

Courtship had more red flags pop up than in the annual running of the bulls, yet our put-upon protagonist can't hear the sound of the Mack truck bearing down on him, at full ramming speed.
Goodness, do all such folks have to be possessed of IQs lower than their age? How does this guy manage to dress himself?
Given all that family and friends dished out on him, I'm surprised that: (a) he hadn't been institutionalized; and (b) his revenge was so weak...poison ivy/oak for most folks, a few days of prednisone will handle that.

I met an Armenian girl who was, is, a friend of one of my daughters; petite little girl, long curly black hair, eyes so black they hypnotize. She's just lovely; all perky and saucy. She'll be my next heroine. I showed her this story and she was furious! She wanted to know what was going to happen to poor Poncho and Lefty.
The desert's quiet, Cleveland's cold, so the story ends we're told. Poncho needs your prayers it's true, but save a few for Lefty too. He only did what he had to do, and now he's growing old. (They played it on the radio...)
You guys are going to be sorry when Poncho's gone and you didn't give him one measly tip of the hat. That's thoughtless indifference to a national institution.
The story's still pretty good in a silly sort of way, but shouldn't the sun be up by now? There's going to be a lot of commuter traffic, and I bet a lot of people are double parked. Can't remember the name of the island in the Arctic where they think the last Mammoths lived. Save that damn pachyderm; I heard some nefarious Zambians were out to get his tusks.
These things should all be getting fives; for balls if nothing else. (Elephants have big balls)
Oh, oh I just felt a rush of blood to the head! The damn Prednisone is kicking in. By for now...

So sad to see Hooked going farther and farther down the 'She's Way Out Of My League' rabbit hole.
This particularly hideous cliche always has me reaching for the antacid tablets when it pops up and frankly leaves me nonplussed. I've asked the question of why any man would take up with a woman of whom he doesn't consider himself to be the equal a number of times here but I'm no nearer an answer.
Hooked's MCs are becoming increasingly difficult characters to root for as they are so grotesquely submissive and accommodating to their wives fanciful notions. A phone call from the wife's boyfriend demanding his permission for the two of them to fuck? Really? And he doesn't even rip her a new one for pulling such an outrageous stunt?
Lastly, she did actually spell out to him that she considered it her right to fuck whoever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to long before the wedding yet he still married her anyway. He admitted to being a weak man who can easily be led around by his cock and seemed to think that was something to be proud of (it most assuredly is not) and was then left confused when things turned out exactly the way they were always going to, the way he himself had helped to set them up to do so.
JR

Holy fuck! This is one hilarious fantasy!! I couldn't stop laughing right to the end!
So, let's see, where do I start?
Ok, so now, apparently, in addition to everything else a man has to worry about in competing for and having a mate, is the necessity of him developing some magical ability to merely stroke a woman's cunt lips in such a way as to suddenly cause lightning to flow from her cunt thru her clit and up into her brain, thereby throwing some fucking metaphysical switch deep in that nasty void which awakens her inner SUCCUBUS which possesses her and gives her the power of endless, unharnessable sexuality, eroticism, seductivity and boundless fucking to bring all men within sight immediately to their knees or even to death while she experiences unbridled lust and boundless passion in bone-breaking multiple serial.and parallel orgasms stretching through infinity??? Wow, no wonder she completely forgot about her husband and didn't give a shit about him from that point on!
You didn't find that funny? I just about puked my guts from laughing so hard. Had to wash my face and drink half a bottle of antacid just to stop my stomach heaves...
Next, and really seriously - just what are the feminist rules for sluts or as some now refer to these whoring gashes as hotwives?
I was under the impression a hotwife first had to get hubby's agreement and consent as to WHO she was gonna fuck; secondly, with only few justifiable exceptions the adulterous fornication was to take place in front of a watching hubby (no locked doors! no roofies! no immobilization!); thirdly, any whoring not observable to hubby was to be first agreed to by him and he was to immediately receive a full, unadulterated, truthful, nothing omitted or glossed over, report of everything the succubitic whore and her soon zombified paramour had done sexually, thereafter. Finally, either party, but especially hubby, had veto power to terminate any and all activity at any time with immediate compliance by all parties.
And frankly, all I saw here was complete non-compliance by the sewer snatch, trailer trash gash wife...
So clearly, in feminist doctrine the superating kunt has all the power, all thecontrol control, all the decision-making, and freedom to chose whomever, however, wherever, whenever, including how many and for how long, without any discussion, agreement, consent with hubby and without other limitations, rules, laws, or prior understandings and mutual agreement.
And the husband's share of pleasure is limited to celibacy and his wife's pleasures, particularly without him.
Oh, yeah! This makes a lot of sense - not to mention a perfect marriage, the ideal world, and harmonious chi throughout the universe.
I was under the very strong impression that that type of woman had already been identified and categorized as a lying, deceiving, manipulating, cheating, adulterating, traitorous fornicating slut, gutter whore, trailer trash gash.
Hence, the hilarity.