Smoke was a simple man. He enjoyed simple pleasures such as weed, blaster battleships, and throbbing Thoraxes in all the right places. The sight of a Rokh warping slowly across 103.7 AU of space may have been enough to spill his seed on a good day, but look deeper and there is more to be found. Some would say he’s a normal EVE Online nerd, and I’d call them wrong. Beneath the waves that are Smoke’s soul lies an oft-untouched, rougher side. If the stars align, the moonlight is just right, and George Michael is on the radio then you might just catch a glimpse of this darker side. This is The Ballad of Timothy ‘Smoke’ Bienville Anthony.
It began like any other Saturday. The alarm clock rang, the birds sang, and his computer hummed softly in the corner of a dimly lit room. Smoke lay awake upon his Hyperion bedsheets staring at a ceiling of what could only be described as world records for cumshot distance. All seemed to be in place for a lovely day of EVE Online and he felt sure that he should have gotten out of bed already. Foxholers might need his help and Ash had already pinged six times to kill a rolling battleship. All was not well, though. Smoke hadn’t managed his morning wank, despite the new Megathron body pillow and Federation Navy Silicone Lube.
“Aww sheeeyet” said he, specifically in the way that a stereotypical black woman might. “I don’t give a fox about this shit” yelled Smoke as he flipped out of bed, cock still in hand. “I’m going to have to leave the mastubatorium.” See, Smoke was afflicted with a deadly Russian poison coursing through his throbbing veins known as монтаж. A bit like the film Crank, featuring Jason Statham, he needed to keep pumping his junk around the clock lest it fall off. Whether this was the cause for his initial interest in blaster battleships is anyone’s guess. Regardless, there was work to be done and Smoke knew only one thing to do. He picked up his headset and called to his corp for aid.
Naturally, his first port of call was the weeb named Lily Arzen. Smoke had noticed Lily milling about in the #nsfw channel from time to time. Lily always posted something called “traps”; Smoke was not aware of what this entailed, but was keen to get some of that booty for himself and soon was typing up the request.
Dearest lily. I humbly requesteth thy presence f’r copulation. Mine own shaft is hard, t is longeth and stout, and mine own scrotum hangs base. I has’t did admire thee f’r too longeth and i feareth yond if ‘t be true this message doest not reacheth thee anon then we shall nev’r beest togeth’r. Liketh yond song “hotline bling” by drake, “i knoweth at which hour yond hotline bling, yond can only cullionly one thing”. Except t is thee, lily, who is’t shall knoweth at which hour yond hotline bling. Seeketh me out behind Jita 4-4 and i’ll showeth thee a bett’r timeth than thee couldst ev’r has’t in Goldshire InnA Love Letter – Smoke, 2019
In the seconds following his Discord message, Lily sat stunned for he didn’t quite know what to say. Senpai Smoke had sent over just the message he had been waiting for all this time since joining Foxholers. With the haste of a horny rabbit, Lily threw down his Runescape-hentai-manga and wrote a short but sweet reply. His address, and two simple words, “I’m waiting.”
As it turned out, in this universe Smoke and Lily shared the same apartment complex; a thought so enticing for Smoke that he stood, and he ran. Like Naruto Namikaze he was out of the room in moments, arms trailing behind him like noodles in the wind. The power of Smoke’s bulky body hitting the door being enough to knock it down into Lily’s Lounge. Stalking through the apartment, Smoke came across a door slightly ajar, rose petals strewn around, and the tune of George Michael’s Careless Whisper almost whispering to him from a neighbour’s Amazon Alexa speaker.
He slowed his approach, licking his lips gently in anticipation and slinking through the door like a cat using a too-small cat flap. The sight Smoke saw before himself was none other than perfect. No less than 165kg (360lb) and as slippery as a newborn baby Lily awaited him on the bed in doggy style. Knowing that this was fiction and the writer did not have time to describe lube, Smoke prepared to go in dry. With little delay he had his bratwurst out and ready for action. Lily gulped in anticipation, a bead of salty Blackout sweat filtering through his beard.
“Here comes the aeroplane, open wide!” said Smoke as he lifted his smegma staff up to Lily’s meat cavern. Amid the gasps of pain he pushed himself in impossibly deep, perhaps even a whole two inches. Hitting the afterburner and thrusting, Smoke began overheating and pumping harder than a dreadbomb against a nanogang. Lily screamed and tried to get away, but was scrammed by Smoke’s meaty grasp.
Time passed and nobody could say quite how long it took but finally, the chaos era was over. Waves of pleasure washed over Smoke’s entire body as Lily wept bloody tears for more than one place. Smoke quickly pulled out with a swift movement, looked Lily in the eye, and whispered “gf”. The reply came in kind and Smoke walked stoically away, spirits lifted and a slight smile on his face. He had come out ISK positive and that was all that mattered. Until next time.