I was depressed a while back and have been watching a lot of old Chris videos. I took some Xanax and NyQuil to help get over this cold I have been having. I was watching "THAT IS MY HOUSE" and then that one with the sound of Bob yawning and/or dying followed it when I fell asleep.
I had this dream and it was so vivid. Bob came into my room, but he wasn't moving any of his appendages. His eyes were wide open and his pupils were red. He was hovering like six inches off the ground and just staring straight forward. He had on a button up flannel, overalls and tight jeans showing of his manly bulge. I don't know why I did this, but I reached out and caressed his bulge and I could feel this turgid feeling and this throbbing. I gragged myfinger across it and this fleshy, throbbing, bulbous member ripped straight across the fly, leaving his zipper hanging in the cool Autumn breeze. I grabbed it ad manipulated it a bit and tried to bendit in my index finger and thumb, but the tensile strength was great. His seemly, feral uncircumsized member was pulsing and the blood running through the bent blue vein of his cock beat as though his heart was still alive. He looked down at me and said, "listen boy, get your black ass down in the gutter and stay there." This confused me because I am caucasian. From my closet though, a Nigerian man in a pickle suit emerged. He walked fluidly and was very human unlike Bob. As the Niggo walked forward Bob began to float backward and say "I got no black ass. I got no black ass. I got no black ass." I was confused, frightened and frankly, aroused.
As Bob floated backwards the Pickle suited Niggo removed a 19" cock from his suit and began to stroke it while looking at me. I finally up and asked "What is going on, Mr. Chandler?" Bob retorted "SPOOFING." I responded "What?" And Bob exclaimed "SPOOFING. S-P-O-O-F-I-N-G."
The Niggo smacked me and I rolled over. I sleep naked, so he saw his opportunity; there was easy access. He penetrated me and was relentless. I could feel my prostate being irritated by the bulbous nature of his cock as my asshole tore under the stain of his Zulu penis. I could feel tensing sensations and knew he was almost complete. My hips were squeezed as he ejaculated into my digestive tract. Bob's in the corner spontaniously orgasming, his cock shooting load after load of cum like a whip cream filled water pistol. The African Gherkin laid across me and nibbled on my ear and whispered "I am Batman". I say "huh?" as I hear a clang in the corner. It's Bob and he has an axe. "Get away from that Internet, I'm cuttin' it down" he says as he comes down across the cable running to mycomputer. I pass out.
I woke up and there was an axe laying next to my fractured cable line. To this day I wonder what really happened that night. I have tried every mix of xanax and NyQuil I can get my hands on. I have been to treatment 14 times for xanax addiction. I don't care though. I just need to just one more time get back to the time in my life when I was cucking Bob.
