![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:24 • Filed to: None | ![]() | ![]() |
Fuck school. Write fighter jet fanfiction.
Mig-29 wondered when F-22 would finally come back from work. She leaned against the window, sighing wistfully, her cup of tea in wing, staring out the window into oblivion. Suddenly, a rapt knock against the front door shook Mig-29 from her reverie, and her tea, still warm, spilled into her lap. She set down the mug, cursing, and flew to the door - and opened it. F-22 stood there - huge, manly, impressive, just like the time they had first met those many years ago in the front of a dusty 7-11 somewhere off Route 66. F-22 looked amused, with that smile he always had. "Looks like you're having some trouble there," he said. Mig-29 blushed. "I-I spilled tea all over my intakes, I feel so stupid -", but she didn't finish. "Don't." F-22 said quietly - "I'll clean them for you." He walked into the threshold and shut the door. F-22 gently touched Mig-29's intakes, stopping every few inches. F-22's eyes kept meeting Mig-29's blushing face. A second later was all shambles: they were kissing frantically, shedding their body panels and flaps with a delicious anticipation. Now fully exposed, F-22 slid his missile slowly into Mig-29's jet nozzle: her nozzle blades vibrated with intense delight. They deliriously shook up and down, up and down until F-22's missile erupted and exploded inside Mig-29's jet exhaust - they collapsed in a fury of exultation, an orchestra of intense vibration and heat. Not bothering to move, they cuddled on the floor and eventually fell asleep in each others' arms. Mig-29 and F-22 eventually got married, and had three children: Tomcat, Grumman and Osprey. Mig-29 and F-22 grew old together and had sex often, and watched their children have fruitful lives.
![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:26 |
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![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:26 |
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I have the weirdest boner.
![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:28 |
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![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:31 |
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"Kids, eh?"
"Effin-a..."
![]() 05/10/2014 at 14:32 |
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Need i say more?
![]() 05/10/2014 at 15:33 |
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Where the prequel of Mig-29 banging F-15, while F-22 is off at work? She wants that massive heat signature, we all know it. F-15's never afraid to flourish his many manlinesses, something she misses dearly in her husband. And, though she would never admit it, there's something about F-15's sleek, chiseled body that F-22's convex contours just can't come close. She wants that analogue AMRAAM and she wants it hard.
That's what the wistful sighing was all about.
![]() 05/10/2014 at 16:03 |
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