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He hated cats with every fiber of his being, almost as much as he hated the childless women that took them in. Vile, unnatural creatures, the both of them, subverting American values.
“You want this cock, don't you? You want me to fuck these cushions deep.”
Oh yeah, this couch wanted to be bred.
“Mmm you’re so fucking tight. You want this big cock stretching that virgin seam? Huh? Is that what you want, you dirty little davenport?”
“Ooh, I was wrong about you. You’re dirty. You’re a dirty couch for me, aren’t you?”
he raised his hand and delivered a swift, merciless slap to the irresistibly soft top grain of the seat cushion.
“Fuck yeah. You liked that didn’t you, you double-stitched slut? I felt you clench when I spanked you. Do you need to be punished for being so dirty?”
President Dennis J. Rance was was going to fucking flood this slutty sofa with cum.
