- Nov 29, 2016
That's massively ironic and you're too retarded to realize it :D.I disagree with the reviewer almost entirely but I don't have time for quote wars (at least not at the moment)
Right, easier to just drop the wall of text that you've posted at least 2 other times elsewhere and peace the fuck out before people inevitably call you a turd for doing so
So far all I've seen from you and other DE fanboys (in response to my opinion with sensible arguments) were butthurt ratings and personal attacks which suggests that even fanboys see the problems I've written but choose to ignore it like some kids trying to defy the reality.
Also, my opinion is self explanatory and quite elaborated so quote wars (which will only be read by me and the reviewer or not even that) aren't necessary.
Wait, so *now* you have time for quote wars?
Shit dude, I forgot to mention, I didn't have time for quote wars. Fuck!
Anyway, here's is Harry/Kim erotica I posted in the other thread about the game for no reason
All characters are consenting adults above the age of 18.
Still reeling from week-old miasma, Harry stumbled into the greenhouse, hoping that the aroma of the flora within would help him get over the cadaverous smell. Instead the strong floral smell mixed with the sickly-sweet stench of the rotting corpse outside, causing the detective to throw up. Again. This time Harry heaved so forcefully that he went weak in the knees and collapsed on all fours, dirtying his already-soiled tie and blazer with his own vomit.
Kim entered behind him and closed the greenhouse door.
"Detective," the lieutenant said in the professional and quietly disappointing tone he has maintained the whole morning, "you need to get your shit together."
"How I get anything together, let alone my shit?" Harry mumbled, not even taking the effort to try and get off the ground, as a beautiful woman's countenance appeared in his mind for a split second and with it a vague sense of dread.
"Well... I know of one way I can help, if you feel like you can't do it on your own," Kim's gentle voice was tinged with something new and strange then. Something like...anticipation? Harry thought.
"Yeah. Whatever. Go ahead," Harry pressed his right cheek into the soft soil and muttered, "what'cha got there, smelling salts? Speed? Its speed, isn't it, or some other upper? Give it here, Dolores Dei knows I've done a lot it in back in the day, or, uh, last week...or did I? I can't seem to fucking remember..."
"No, detective. What I've got here is..." Kim answered in a low voice as he unzipped his fly, "a Volumetric Shit Compressor."
Harry shifted, suddenly alarmed, but the lieutenant's deft hands were already pulling down his soft bell-bottom trousers in yellow wool flannel. An exciting new note joined in the orchestra of scents, taking its seat - nay, its throne - betwixt the floral orchestra and the miasmic pit: the honey of Harry's unwashed anus.
"Lieutenant Kim," the detective said mechanically, as if reciting a disclaimer, "I enthusiastically consent to this and any further sexual interactions and also this isn't obscene at all. Please, proceed."
With an ecstatic grunt Kim brushed his hardening fuckstick against the older man's shit jungle. A successful Inland Empire check informed Harry that the lieutenant's cockthing was a kind of cocksplorer, braving the mysterious depths of his chocolate thicket, like an eager traveler venturing forth into an exciting new isola.
"L-lieutenant!" the alcoholic roared, "y-you are plundering the depths of my jungle!!!"
"What...did...you...say?" Kim managed to utter between animalistic grunts.
"N-nothing..." Harry weakly answered, trembling with pleasure as the man straddling him pushed past his fourteenth sphincter, the ploughstaff's head gently brushing against his atrium, "I can feel my shit...getting volumetrically compressed..."
Fuck-drunk, the detective clenched his teeth and actuated his prostate muscles, milking the base of Kim's anal invader, the tip which has reached as far as his esophagus. Harry opened his mouth and thrust a few vomit-and-viscera covered fingers inside, pushing them into Kim's urethra for maximum pleasure. The bulbous, purple head of the lieutenant's mancannon turned this fuck-serenade into a duet as it playfully took Harry's uvula inside it.
The two men were intertwined more deeply than Siamese twins. Or more deeply than ultraliberalism and psychopathy. Or more deeply than communism and mass-murder. Or more deeply than moralism and fascism. (This is nuanced political commentary, by the way.)
A nearly uncomfortable - yet oh so exciting - awareness of his own body overcame Harry, like how one sometimes realizes they can and ought to breathe and blink manually. Kim's pleasure train has laid tracks from my ass and all the way through to my throat, he realized. The revelation was enough to make him gag - not because he was unhappy with this state of affairs (in fact, he was positively ecstatic), but out of a simple biological reflex.
This body-wide spasm, like that of a dying animal, was enough to push Kim over the brink. Screaming wordlessly, he emptied the contents of his impressively-sized gonads into the man he had entered. Having reached his own climax, Harry wanted to shout with joy, but he couldn't as a geyser of delicious cummies suddenly erupted from his throat. There were cummies in his bloodstream; cummies in his pride.
Later, after the two men cleaned up and redressed, the cummy-drunk alcoholic met Lieutenant Kitsuragi's tired gaze. His cheeks were even more flushed than usual, partly from the naughtiness that just overcame him, and partly from his recent cummy overdose.
"Lieutenant," he asked tentatively, more shy than anything, "does this mean that we are f*****s?"
"Detective," Kim parried in a professional tone detached from the visceral fuckfest that had just transpired, "please, don't suggest such... lewd things. I merely did what was required to get your shit together. Also, you should not use words that cause measurable harm to vulnerable minority groups, such as homophobic slurs."
"Fair enough," Harry answered stoically even as his heart quivered. What was this thing he felt? Disappointment? Longing? No...
"Let's go get that body down and solve this goddamn case, partner."