Read Online The Perils of Praline by marshall thornton - Free Book Online

The older gentleman, as is quite common, was far more skilled at receiving this kind of treatment than Praline had been, and our lusty hero found dishing out this sort of ruthlessness quite enjoyable. The man’s throat was relaxed and the head of Praline’s prick spent much of the time stabbing the man’s uvula. Resulting in a happy gurgle. In his excitement, Praline knocked off the gentleman’s fishing hat. Instantly, he let Praline’s cock fall out of his mouth, bolting upright, sunglasses askew.
    “Great, now you know who I am,” he said.
    Praline looked closely. The man’s hair was prematurely white and looked kind of sexy against his flushed skin, his features were even and symmetrical. While he did look vaguely familiar, Praline had no idea who he might be.
    “Actually, no, I don’t. Who are you?”
    “You really don’t know who I am?” The man seemed disappointed.
    “Are you famous?”
    “I’m incredibly famous.”
    “Are you on a soap opera?” Praline guessed. He didn’t watch those, so he wouldn’t have any idea if he were getting a blowjob from a soap star. And the white-haired gentleman did have the kind of blandly attractive features required on daytime television.
    “No. I’m a journalist,” the man said. “A serious journalist.” Frustrated that Praline couldn’t figure out who he was, he blurted out, “I have my own show on Box Cable News, The Wright Way . I’m Malcolm Wright for God’s sake.”
    “Oh my gosh! You are!” Now Praline recognized him, sort of. “My mama loves you!”
    “Well, your mama is an intelligent and righteous woman.” Which also happened to be the opinion she held of herself.
    Praline blushed. It embarrassed him to talk about his mama while his pants were down around his ankles. But then he was hit by not only a brilliant idea, but a change of subject. “Hey, since you’re on TV, do you know Dave G.? He was a contestant on House-Bound, Season Six . I’m trying to find—”
    “I don’t spend my time with reality TV stars,” Malcolm said. “I do meaningful television.”
    And then to prove the point, Malcolm flipped a TV screen down from the ceiling and started a DVD. Suddenly, Malcolm was on screen, film of an American flag fluttering in a video breeze behind him. He spoke stridently about the evils of illegal immigration.
    Praline assumed this meant that sex was over. But then, Malcolm went back to sucking his dick, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. Not that Praline minded, the forcefulness of face fucking the man he now knew as Malcolm Wright had been a turn on, but there was also nothing wrong with the gentle, warm, fluid cock sucking he was now receiving. Each had its own merits, the near violence of one being offset by the sensuality of the other. Praline realized he might have to have many, many blowjobs of varying sorts before he could be certain which was the absolute best.
    Of course, he couldn’t help but listen to some of what Malcolm was saying on the TV , and the indignation Praline felt over some Mexican national getting between him and his God-given right to a job picking strawberries for subsistence wages helped him not come too quickly.
    Malcolm lifted Praline’s legs into the air and went to work licking the boy’s asshole. This was just fine in Praline’s book. It tickled in the most interesting way. At first he squeezed his eyes closed, concentrating on each sensation, but when Malcolm managed to slip his entire tongue through Praline’s sphincter the young man’s eyes sprang open in surprise, and that was when he caught sight of the man standing outside the Hummer with a video camera.
    “Um, sir…Mr. Wright, there’s a guy with a camera…”
    Malcolm withdrew his tongue, sat up and turned quickly around. “Damn, I knew I should have sprung for the tinted windows.” He grabbed his hat, pulled it down over his head, then opened the door behind Praline and tried to shove him out.
    “Wait a second!” Praline