Vegetables on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Double or Nothing

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Part 8)_

### Chapter 9

Ray whistled while he peeled the carrots. He could hear his wife through the open bedroom door. She was trying to scream for his attention through her black leather peargag. Ray imagined that the words she was trying to yell were not pleasant, but this wouldn’t be the first time. Janice had cuffed herself for him and now she had to suffer the consequences. Besides, he knew all the ruckus she made was because she was as horny as hell. If she was really in trouble, she would have hummed their ‘safe tune’. No, he knew her pussy was itching for someone to scratch it.

Gai-Shift - Out of Africa Chapter 15: Simply Savored

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Gai-Shift - Out of Africa Chapter 14: Pili’s Story)_

_To understand the Gai Shift & to review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge

Chapter 15: Simply Savored

with thanks to SkyHawk7x

Twenty-five days beyond the season of rains, sunset

I am Pili, daughter of Milli, granddaughter of Vanilli.

To me has gone Sister’s diary, to create the magic of recounting. To me has gone the role of storyteller.

Gai-Shift - Out of Africa Chapter 16: Out of the Pot & Into the Fire

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Gai-Shift - Out of Africa Chapter 15: Simply Savored)_

_To understand the Gai Shift & to review the characters in this story, check out this useful guide: Gai-Shift Encyclopedia of Knowledge

Chapter 16: Out of the Pot & Into the Fire

with thanks to SkyHawk7x

Twenty-six days beyond the season of rains

I am Pili, daughter of Milli, granddaughter of Vanilli.

I woke up this morning stiff, my wrists and ankles roped back under me, my hands and feet numb from my weight and the tight ropes. In my mouth, I still carry Sister’s taste from the soup we made of her. It is overscored with the taste of my friends whom I was forced to lick and service though the crazed night. I can still remember them pressuring me to do things while they feverishly grappled each other, a whirl of black woman-flesh. Now my round friend Mosi lays face down in my crotch, snoring, her drool mixing with my dried woman-juice. Jumbe, tall and elegant, reclines nearby, regal even in her sexual disarray. I find myself looking over her body as best I can (how did my glasses end up on her nose?!?), enjoying the long sweeping curves of her torso, her perfect black skin, skin I tasted (that I was force-fed) overnight.