My right hand brushed over the auto release of my holster and the TKU jumped into my gloved hand. Nothing could have felt better. The TKU dialed to th... Max, I fired. Four gram of Uranium heated to ten thousand degrees plasma state slammed through the floor of the Taxicab at near light speed. The TKU was one of the few weapons that still had recoil, and it drove me against the upward drift. Whoever sat on that Taxi’s driver’s seat had himself a new bumhole that reached all the way through his. Should I call it a scent? Or an aroma? Or is it a bouquet? It is intoxicating whatever I call it, and then I run my tongue along the dampness and taste you for the first time. Second-hand taste, but satisfying, just like standing next to a smoker when you desperately need a puff on a cigarette, but don't have one yourself. I ask you to turn around. You ask why. I tell you that I am getting your surprise ready. You turn around. I unzip my pants and pull my cock out through the fly, and I stroke. More

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