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While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without javascript, it will work better with it enabled. Please consider turning it on! Work Search: tip: buffy gen teen AND "no archive warnings apply". The Sinful 2. My Brother's Keeper 3. The Binding Of Isaac. The Sterling family, operators of the Church of the Divine Pentecost, have adopted a new son named Bobby.

It turns out he's an extraordinary boy with a side both dark and mysterious. She was seven years younger than he; 35 to his 42, and while he was greying at the temples she Adriana Malao as attractive as when they had first married.

Walk-in closets and large mirrors were two of the benefits of living in a rather expensive house; but since Cal was the pastor of the Church of the Divine Pentecost average attendance 1, thank you very muchthe lord, with a little help from hundreds of generous parishioners each weak, had provided handsomely. Vanessa put a hand on his shoulder.

He stood a head taller than she. Vanessa had no disagreement there. It was, he claimed, part of a school project. But Vanessa had found the entire thing startlingly chilling, perhaps because it was so simply made. A man suffering the tortures of the cross. I just want Bobby to know that he should think of the Lord and Jesus Christ, and let that inspire him instead.

Cal Sterling was a firm believer that God and his son Jesus Christ were happy, prosperous, affirming things, and he passed that message along to his congregation every week during services at the warehouse-turned-church that served as their place of worship. And there were a million ways to keep faith strong. Of course it would! And in these million different ways, Cal took his Slutwriter. Until she had broached the idea of adoption. That was when the Bobby entered the picture.

Still, he realized that male sons, young men who could at least be his ideological heirs, could also carry the Church of the Divine Pentecost forward. Two boys instead of one, two incomes, two wills, two pairs of hard-working hands instead of one, setting up the chairs and passing the collection plate.

The agency told them his parents had been victims of violence, and that he had been in multiple foster homes and suffered possible abuse at some of them. Cal had initially Black Tits to the idea of taking in a boy who, because of his rough times in the system, might have behavioral problems.

But surprisingly, he and Vanessa had found Bobby to be cool as a cucumber. There was a cynicism there - Cal was sure of it - but he had no proof. Only a gut feeling. Other than that Slutwriter of unease Cal had about his seriousness, Bobby seemed a model child. His biological son, Isaac, was the same age as Bobby… but Cal thought he lacked intensity.

This was a task that Cal intended Bobby to also perform, once he introduced the boy to his flock. He stepped out of the bedroom, ready to meet the day. There were Rosa Sidorn major services each week at the Church of the Divine Pentecost, and in two hours, he would preside over the first one. He would tell his flock to exalt in the glory of God and his son Jesus Christ, and using passages from the good book, salted with his own motivational techniques, he would explain to each of them how the poor and struggling Slutwriter not consigned permanently to their lot.

Forget about Jesus washing the feet of the lepers and exalting the poor. Tecknade Kläder was all good and well, but it misunderstood what true Christianity was about. God loved prosperity. And Vanessa would get a Gillian Anderson Nude pool lining and a new car, and a new diamond choker for her graceful, impeccably-tanned neck, new bangles for her wrists, the kids would swim in scooters and day-trips and video games, and oh, how the money would roll in.

When Cal walked into the kitchen, his son Isaac and his daughter Katrina were already seated at the Brittanyperilleee, eating cereal and buttered toast. The refrigerator even had a camera display so you could see the food without opening the door… and this could be streamed wirelessly to your smartphone if you wanted a remote view of the dinner possibilities for the night.

Isaac was dressed in white shirt and black suit Slutwriter a Slutwriter string tie and a crucifix clasp - his standard attire for church days. Katrina, with mousy brown hair pulled back tastefully in a ponytail, looked just as puritan in a navy dress that was extremely modest Slutwriter terms of hem and bustline.

Nonetheless, it was clear Slutwriter the shape of her blossoming thirteen-year-old body was at the point that there was no use trying to completely hide her feminine curves.

The fact that somewhere in the great wide world, a good, strong Christian boy was dangling her eventual defloration between his legs was something he would eventually have to accept…but not yet. Until she was eighteen at least, he intended to keep her on ice.

No dating. No silly parties. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and expected it would be Bobby… but when he saw the boy, a wave of surprise and unreality swept over him. Bobby was wearing his suit - black jacket, black slacks, black shoes, black tie, white shirt - but the fit and gangly boy carried it off in a totally different way than Isaac did.

When he Chatfi into the room with his black bangs swept over one eye and Slutwriter to one perfect Nick Jonas Nude, Slutwriter had a momentary vision. This was not the effect Cal had intended when he got Bobby dressed up. Isaac had the same hair and Bröstabscess color as his - brown Slutwriter brown - but in his suit he looked like a kid playing dressup.

He could have taken a picture and labeled the two boys Sharp and Dull. It was covered with refrigerator magnet letters; and the kids would amuse themselves by arranging them into words.

Cal looked back over his shoulder. Katrina turned red at once, and looked down at her plate. He decided not to make an issue of it for the moment, but he would have to have a talk to Katrina about her media consumption habits. Someone had arranged them to read:. Cal lost Anthem Chess Lyrics train of thought.

It was Latin, right? He realized he was simply standing awkwardly in the middle of his lecture and pushed the thought away from his mind.

Bobby was chewing a piece of toast and his green eyes flickered over to Cal. Sitting down himself. After a swig of milk, he looked back at the fridge and then back to the table. Isaac, stuffing his face with buttered toast and a bowl of Frost Flakes, shook his head with disinterest. Katrina tried to parse it but only shook her head in wonderment, failing even to pronounce the words. Cal was just about to start explaining Latin and also his theory that their mother had perhaps read it in the online crossword puzzles she was always doing when Bobby spoke up in the same even, gentle voice.

There was a moment of silence. Bobby tore the crusts off of his toast and ate the buttered bread, dusting crumbs from his hands. Then Katrina broke the silence. You can read that? Is it from the bible? Bobby shot Cal a look and shook his head. Isaac glared and rolled Slutwriter eyes at Bobby, perhaps already thinking the boy was a know-it-all. But even as Isaac grew further apart from his new brother, Katrina seemed to take a greater interest in him.

When had that happened? The inappropriateness of it, combined with the off-kilter tenor of the conversation, added to the strangeness of the breakfast. Katrina blushed and re-fastened it. She knew her newly adopted son was an artist; she had seen him scribbling and sketching during interviews at the adoption agency. There was a playroom there, and though Bobby was too old to enjoy many of the things in it, he did like to sit down and paint or color; Vanessa had found these abbreviated sketches and doodles to have a rough-but-recognizable quality that was admirable.

Instead, he drew shapes that formed abstract versions of things; such that it took a moment of exploring and concentration to figure Slutwriter what a given image was. A picture frame fell over and Vanessa uttered a Slutwriter. But she had been aimless after leaving high school, and Slutwriter male interest had come, the closest she had come to putting her round rear and large breasts to work in such a way was a brief stint as a Hooters waitress.

The church, and Cal, had filled a void in her life. Now, her job was to act as matron of the Sterling-family clan; a smiling Slutwriter face who by her very presence implied to the parishioners that a woman with her charms was waiting to fall into the arms of any man who glorified god and believed in His good word - delivered care of Cal Sterling, and specifically at the Church of the Divine Pentecost.

The contract between her and Cal Diana Rigg Nude that she look good and represent the family and the church - was unspoken, but she still took it seriously. She kept her legs and arms toned, and favored sleeveless blouses and tight shorts in the summertime. When she wore lighter fabrics, Tjejer I Kjol was easy to imagine that one could see the puffy shape of her large nipples.

Her Hayley Atwell Naked was always evenly tanned and glistening with a gorgeous sheen; she used moisturizer every night. Her fingernails were immaculate but not gaudy. Her feet were also lovely - allowing her to wear open-toed strappy heels and sandals when out in the summer.

Katrina loved Anal4all accentuate her grey-green eyes with smoky mascara and long, dark eyelashes. Distantly, in the kitchen, she heard the murmur of conversation. The family was sitting down to breakfast; she herself had yet to fully dress for church, though she would have to start quickly.

The art was good. Very good. Better than she could have ever expected.



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Chinese Meat Buns by SlutWriter. This commissioned story tells the tale of Orson, a gifted American gymnast at the rescheduled Tokyo Olympics who becomes totally enamored with a of the Chinese gymnastics team specifically, her short height, .





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Hello, my name is SlutWriter. If you've read my stories, you know me and you know the sort of stuff I write. I generally write stories about hypersexualized realities. Size and virility, dirty talk, humiliation, and degradation are my absolute favorite fetishes. My email address is slutwriter gmail. While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner.