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I named my cats Dildo and Sex Toy. I don't know why. One was a female cat with her parts "altered" so that we would have no kitties, the other a male cat with all his toys intact. I somehow felt it was cruel to castrate a cat for the fact of his being born male. I find it odd that anyone bothers to alter the males since they can't have unwanted kitties. Anyhow, that was a digression. This is about how I took Tiffany against her will, I think.

Tiffany was my next-door neighbor. Call her the haughty chick. She had that air of better than thouness about her. She wore high fashion clothes. She wore dark shades. She held her nose at that aloof angle. She usually dressed in mostly black. She may have worked. It was hard to tell. She drove a snotty red convertible. She dripped trust fund from her pores. Her dog was the haughty dog. It was one of those ultra purebred schnauzers. It held its nose high in the air and pooped ever so delicately as not to stain its own fur. It would strut out Tiffany's front door, look about, sniff the air, gloat at neighbor dogs, strut to a spot on my front stoop, then deposit its business. Of course Tiffany couldn't care less that we lived in a town with a pooper-scooper rule. Your dog poops, you clean up. That was the rule. No exceptions. The haughty dog, as I took to calling it, pooped on my porch day after day. Did Tiffany once come over and clean up the poopie mess? No.

This is one of those stories that makes you wonder about big government and where our taxes go. Animal control told me they could do nothing unless they witnessed the haughty dog in the act. Animal control has one officer who rides around in his truck when the mood strikes him. Local police said they could only write a misdemeanor citation if they witnessed the act and they had no plans to stake out my neighborhood to watch a dog poop. I left Tiffany more than one note politely inviting her to clean up after her dog, and the notes went unanswered. Most times Tiffany watched the haughty dog poop on my stoop from the safety of her own front door. I got the impression after a while that Tiffany actually had trained the haughty dog to poop on my porch and in my yard to save Tiffany the trouble of having to clean up the mess in her own yard. What a bitch.

So one Tuesday, when I was cleaning Sex Toy's and Dildo's kitty poop out of their litter boxes, I collected the kitty poop and deposited it on Tiffany's porch. Kind of an in-kind return of what the haughty dog gave me on a daily basis. Tiffany, the bitch, put the kitty poop back on my porch that night. She took one of those little kid beach sets with a shovel and pail. She picked up the kitty poop, put it in the pail, and dumped the whole pail load across the welcome mat on my front porch. She could see that I was watching the little drama unfold from my living room picture window. What is worse, while she was on my porch dumping kitty poop, her haughty dog dropped by and deposited another load of its pretty poop on my stoop as well. Tiffany actually stood and watched the haughty dog strut over to my porch and poop. Tiffany was careful to step around the fresh dog poop when she had finished dumping the kitty poop on my welcome mat.

I went over the edge at that moment. Tiffany is a small woman. She stands maybe 5'2". Dripping wet she might weigh 100 pounds. She is ball breaking hot, in that heroin chic kind of way. She has dark brown eyes, alabaster white skin, and nearly black hair. She may once have been goth. She usually wears that dark almost purple lipstick.

I stormed out my door and caught up with Tiffany as she reached her front door.

"Bitch." I said.

"Are you addressing me?" She asked. She arched her brow.

"Bitch," I repeated. "Dog poop." I pointed at my stoop.

"Not a typical greeting," She replied. "But hello. May I help you? My name's Tiffany."

I had that feeling you get when trapped in the voice mail system of a credit card company. Press 1 for no help, press 2 for less help, press 3 to wreck your credit report and cause us to raise your interest rate.

"Dog poop on my porch." I pointed more insistently.

"Well you should clean it up." Her reply. "Someone might step in it. Very unfriendly way to greet neighbors with dog poop on your stoop."

"It's your dog's poop."

"But it would seem to be on your stoop. And it does make an unsightly and unsanitary mess." She replied. "You should clean that up."

I am not a man usually provoked to violence but Tiffany had just, more or less, walked her dog over to my porch and watched him poop on my stoop. She then had the gall to walk home and tell me to clean up her mess. This is the essence of outrage.

She was about to step into her house and end the conversation, but before she could close her door I pushed my way in and shoved her into her living room.

"What are you doing?" she asked as a tone of incredulity crept into her voice.

I pushed her to her floor. Her face wore a look of dismay tinged with anticipation.

In a fit of—I will show you that you are a total bitch—rage I undid my fly and pulled out my penis and started to pee—on her face. I think she was too shocked to move, or maybe not. The haughty dog yipped. I wanted to kick it, but that would be cruel, so I just aimed a shot of pee at the dog and it scurried away to hide lest manpee somehow sully his fur.

I think to mock me, Tiffany opened her mouth to drink in the pee stream. She took on that look of a child on a playground saying, "nah nah nah, you can't hurt me I rather like drinking your pee."

"Bitch," I said, as she seemed to savor the pee.

At this moment the logic of this kind of story would dictate that I dropped trow and moved to poo on her face—trade poop for poop as it were—but I am not that trusting of a dismayed unrestrained woman on her back whose face has taken on a mocking tone while she drinks my pee. My rational brain told me that this woman would smack my balls, or do something to hurt me were I to squat over her face to take a dump, not that my rational brain had been speaking when I chose to pee on her face in the first place, or that I had listened to it had it said anything..

I grabbed her wrists, I am quite a big bigger and stronger than her so her struggles didn't really mean much to me, and I dragged her in search of some restraints.

"You will have to wipe up the pee on the floor. I don't like a mess." Was all she said.

"Bitch."

We reached her bedroom. I used a pair of stockings and the cord from her laptop computer to bind her wrists. I pulled her arms above her head and lashed them to a bedpost. At this point it dawned on me that while the local sheriff may not have had the time to come out and write a citation for dog poop, I was deep enough into a major felony that the sheriff might find time to talk with me. Well, if I was going to spend the next many years in a cell sharing my man butt with a smelly guy named "bubba," I could at least have fun tonight.

I moved to pull off her skirt.

"Don't rip it." Tiffany's command. "It's an EliseElise and they cost a lot. Be sure to fold it."

"Bitch."

I eased the skirt off gently. Tiffany wore the cutest black thong and had really tight strong legs shaved achingly smooth. I went to work on the blouse but realized that I would have to rip it since her hands were bound.

"If you rip the blouse you buy me a new one." Tiffany's only words.

I ripped the blouse.

Tiffany wasn't wearing a bra as she has the chest of an eighteen-year-old boy. Her pink aureole and nipples are the size of dimes. When aroused, aureole is swallowed whole by nipple and the nipples poke out like angry grapes.

I pulled down her panties and thought I would die laughing. She had the cutest trimmed pussy. She looked groomed for a model's fashion shoot. No real woman's pussy is that cute or so neatly coifed. All the hair was shaved away from top of her large pussy lips to her tight puckered asshole. A little runway of uniform quarter-inch hairs ran up from above her clit. The strip was narrow with the skin on both sides neatly shaved and desperately smooth. This was a high maintenance puss.

I pointed and said, "how tidy," with a sarcastic bite to my words. "What a pretty pussy," I made a sharp biting "t" sound on the word pretty.

"Of course," her nonchalant reply.

I stripped off my pants and shirt, dropped my boxers and was ready to plow some ground.

"Lick," she ordered with an indignant tone. "If you intend to put that huge thing in me," she pointed with her foot at my dick, "I expect to be very wet. Very very wet. That's much too big to go in unless I am very wet."

I was struck by how odd the moment felt. I was getting revenge for her dog's poop habits. I wanted to cause her pain, much pain. I had just shoved my way into her home, peed in her mouth, tied her to a bed, and it seemed the whole time she was ordering me around. Don't rip this, fold that, aim the pee in my mouth and now lick me silly...

"Bitch," was all I said as I dove in and began to lick. And I don't know why I did that.

I lapped away with a sense of urgency, not so much to make her cum, but because I knew the sooner I got her wet, the sooner I could shove my big dick deep inside her to make my point. I was working her to a medium lather when all of a sudden she seemed to overflow with moisture. I had heard of females who ejaculate, and I wondered if she was one of those women, and if my tongue was so good as to have turned her puss into Niagara Falls. I felt this warm stream on my tongue. Then it dawned on me she was pissing in my mouth. It was like the cat poop all over.

I stuck my head up.

"You're pissing in my mouth."

"So." All she said. "And you stopped licking, why?" She had this totally nonplussed look on her face as if she expected me to lick and drink while she emptied her bladder.

I didn't really know why I had stopped licking. This seemed all wrong.

I moved up to her chest. I sucked one of her nipples, then the other.

"Suck my boytit," she cooed. "Suck it harder. Bite it. Yeah that's it. Take my flat boytit in your mouth. You love my flat boytit don't you."

She bucked as I sucked her nipples. She squirted another jet of pee from between her legs.

I couldn't wait any longer and had to put my raging hardon into her quivering puss even if it meant risking pee fountain. I aimed my cock at the pretty pussy. I was still outraged about the dog poop.

I am not a small man by any means. And my cock is well above average. I thought, as small as she was, I would have to go slow to avoid damage. I may have a temper, but I am not cruel. I was sure all of my dick would not fit. A bunch of women can't take all of it. I gently slid the head into the opening and pushed.

"I can't feel it, give me more." She said mockingly as I slid the first five inches inside what felt like a vise. Why I hadn't gagged her, I wondered.

"All of it, I want it all now." She continued in a casual yet insistent almost school marm sing songy tone.

I rammed home the other four very thick inches as hard as you can when it feels as if you are squeezing your dick through one of those old maytag washer laundry rollers. I am sure the unabridged dictionary has a picture of Tiffany's twat to illustrate "tight pussy."

She kept calling out instructions as I tried my darndest to give her a hard fuck.

"Harder... slower... faster... all the way in... all the way out... on beat... one, two, one, two... slower, slower, ease off, now harder, on count, one, two, one two... "

I rowed crew in college and she reminded me of our coxswain calling the cadence as we would pull harder to a finish. Her hips bucked to meet my thrusts and her pussy squeezed and relaxed as if it was milking my dick like a cow teet. Her puss was as wet as Niagara and it wasn't pee at this point. I thrust for all I was worth and made her take every one of my thick nine inches.

"Wait, harder, harder, I'm cumming. Harder, harder, all the way, all the way, I'm cumming. Yes. Make me cum. Yes. I want that whole fucking dick now. I am cumming. God yes."

I forced my way into her house. I pissed in her mouth. I planned to poop on her face to make a point about dog poop. I tied her up. I was raping her with likely the largest cock she ever had. And here she is calling out a cadence and cumming like a banshee.

I tensed to cum.

She felt the difference in how I moved.

"If you are cumming, I want it in my mouth. Now." She barked the order. "My mouth now. My mouth now."

I obliged. Who knows why. I stuffed my dickhead into her mouth as I shot a couple of huge loads of thick sperm.

"Yum yum." She said as she eagerly swallowed it all.

I wanted to make a point about being neighborly and here Miss Tiffany Heroin Chic had just cum like a banshee and gushed about the taste of my sperm.

"Poop?" she asked. "Hadn't you wanted to poop on my face yet?" It was like she read my mind and couldn't get enough. "You have to want to poop on me too."

"Uh, no not tonight." All I could manage to say. I got the feeling I better be heading home and clean up the dog poop on my stoop all by my own little self.

I got up and dressed.

Tiffany was still tied to the bed.

She arched her back and lifted her butt in the air.

"I can poop for you," She said. I was amazed as she shot a little piece of shit out of her butt onto the bed.

I just looked, smiled and finished dressing.

"Don't worry about me," Her voice took on a disappointed tone, "Haughty dog can gnaw through the stockings pretty quick. He's really well trained."

I left her tied to the bed. I walked home. I took a shovel and cleaned up the dog poop. No sheriff that night. No sheriff the next day. No sheriff all week. But every day the haughty dog pooped on my stoop. On Saturday a receipt appeared in my mailbox for an EliseElise blouse along with a receipt for, as it read on the receipt, "cleaning manpee from living room carpet." That was too much for me. I walked over to her stoop, dropped my pants, squatted, and took a dump. I walked home wondering what would happen next. We had the whole weekend for paybacks.
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