| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
04-19-2013, 11:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-19-2013, 11:23 PM by Zikar-Sin.)
....Did that hurt you...?
[No Probs; I'm the slow one :B]
_________
And what in the hell…?
It seemed like the Zikar had been going places with the oppalent unicorn; she had certainly expressed interest in his extensive freshness. The coy sweetness she had received him with ruffled his fur in a pleasing way; the stud had puffed out his chest, lengthening his form so that he could show of them fly-ass muscles he had worked so hard on. Look at that ass, girl! Just gaze upon his flossin’ mane, all butta-whooped and glistnin’. Sure, his horn was twisted—but he preferred to think of it as a manifestation of his twisted-ass sense of fun. Bastard could get dirty if he wanted to; Zikar knew how much of a freakazoid he could turn into, especially if there was a pretty lady at stake. Well, now that some prancin’, ugly-ass pigeon had strutted up poachin’ on his prey, that freaky side of him was surely gonna pop out tonight. He gon’ learn today, Zikar thought ominously in his head.
“And jus’ who the fuck are you?” Zikar asked, blunt in his words as the pigeon puffed his chest out, addressing’ his sweet boo with clear intentions. Automatically, almost unconsciously, Big Poppa puffed his chest out as well, allowing the tendons in his neck to define themselves in a pleasing display of his physical power. A visible ripple of satisfaction coursed through the stud’s body as he listened to his boo react in distaste to his competition; with a flick of his tail, he bore his gaze into the pigeon, snorting in evident distaste for his appearance. Naw, bro. Them feathers ain’t cuttin’ it. “Don’ worry, girl,” he said in his smooth-ass growl, turning to his boo and flashing what he thought was a devilish smirk, “I won’t tell no one if you don’t, feel, me? He ain’t gon’ stay here long…” With those words, Zikar moved his gaze back to the pigeon, his intent and threat quite clear in the ice of his eyes.
“Y’ hear that?” He said, his voice louder than necessary and biting in tone, “I said get lost, bro! The fine lady said she don’ like your kind ‘round here!” This ninja was triflin’; the cocky cast to the pigeon’s stance wasn’t lost on Zikar, and his rather explosive temper simmered at the boiling point. I wish you would, Makaka. I wish you would.
"Well miss, I'm afraid this skyrat isn't so easily persuaded. What if I tell someone you have been talking to me?"
“Oh you wanna go?!” Zikar said suddenly, invading Makaka’s space with an attempted shove; he was gonna get this mothafucka off his territory RIGHT quick. “Maybe you didn’t hear her right. She don’ like yo kind here, Makaka-or-whatever-the-hell-yo-name-is.” He snorted, ears glued to his skull. “As far as your concerned, she’s Chief of Puttin’ Her Hoof In Yo Ass. Now take yo lil girl Amy Or Abba and Jayjay and get the fuck on.” For Zikar hadn’t missed the arrival of the blue female pigeon; suffice it to say, he was smitten with his White Lady Boo and wanted her to stick around, and as such he put up racist appearances for her sake.
Although he couldn’t help the roving eye glance once or twice at the blue femme’s ass as well. Daaaayum, he was just hittin’ the jackpot today, dawg!
...I DON' GIVE A DAMN...
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