The corpse of the thearistocrats commerciale
title, hilarious, fiona bell, jason, funk metal, r. lee ermey, hard rock feeds, jordanian, morocco, commerciale, ultramagnetic, gabriel jeffrey, vampire pictures, carmela soprano, review, action, italian mafia, dirnt, bisexual, davina, sobrante, He is enjoying the look of abject, mortal terror spreading across the drug-blurred face of the spreadeagled girl over whom George is still crouched and into whom he's still persistently and clumsily trying to thearistocrats push his limp presidential weiner, as the puddle thearistocrats of blood spreads closer to her chin. "Shit, Dick. Now I'm all thearistocrats dis...distracted. This ain't no fun no more!" George's absurdly tiny member has shrivelled completely by now. "Mah gun's not workin'. Help me out here, son!" He pinches his nipples and looks up at Cheney, imploringly, beady eyes a-quiver. Cheney sighs, steps over the dead boy and begins, after a couple of pumps of his pudgy hips, to piss copiously over both the President and the semi-conscious girl. "Do it yourself, asswipe. I've got a planet to run." George grins up gratefully up at Cheney through the stream of urine like a down's child on Christmas Day, and, re-tumescent, bends to his task again, happily, licking the sheen of blood and coke-snot from his upper lip.
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The corpse of the Iraqi boy Dick Cheney has been raping collapses to the plastic sheeting they'd laid down to protect the Oval Office commerciale carpet, a few terminal surges of blood pumping out of the exit wound that was his face. There is a muted suck-and-pop as Dick's dick slips out of the dead commerciale boy's rectum, which is relaxing now after tightening and thrillingly gripping the Vice-President's penis when the bullet passed through his brain. Cheney rears back -- red-faced commerciale in the grip of the Viagra™ rush, his scarred, blood-streaked member waving in the air -- and farts loudly as he staggers to his feet. "Fuck you, George, you halfwit. Keep up or get out of the game." He shrugs into a black silk kimono, collapses onto the sofa, trims and lights a cigar, then horks up a dog-choking rail of columbian from the oak coffee table.
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