“Take it you fuh-king cunt” bellowed Gregg as he grudgingly shifted on top of his wife.

“Mmmm, I’m a hater Opie, show this hater how a real host treats his fans” Lynsi begged, whilst longing for this balding husk of a radio host to finish inside her.

“yeah, by fucking them, fucking the fans hard!” With this, Gregg mustered all his strength to go the distance; thinking of all the instagram comments, Facebook posts and other hater sites made his wilted penis rouse inside his wife’s hollow vagina. He pulled out his ragged sex and shoved it deep into Lynsi’s ass.

“you like it in your fartbox huh?” Gregg smirked, as his tapioca breasts flopped around Lynsi’s shoulders.

Lynsi let out a half hearted moan, as the radio veteran laid over her, miserably pumping with all his might. All the while staring at the skateboard poking out of the closet door, dreaming of when her Westchester prince will arrive and make her feel like a true woman.

All of a sudden, Gregg jerked back as his lips pursed up with pleasure.

“I’m gonna make cumsies, let me cum in your mouth”

He quickly pulled out of her dried vagina and presented his cock in front of her face to jerk to completion.

Before Lynsi could even get a firm grip of the turgid penis before her, Gregg let out a bellowing roar as a small sliver of semen drizzled out of his tiny slit and drooled miserably over the bed sheet. Lynsi couldn’t help but be disgusted at the sight of his congealed seed, knowing full well this mixture could never have impregnated her.

Gregg noticed Lynsi staring into the distance after the encounter, not realising that she was mulling over the true genetics of their children. He thought this a perfect time to pull a quick prank, as his famous lightening wit compelled him to utilise this opportune moment. Gregg pinned Lynsi to the bed whilst giggling, startling her greatly, as he pulled out his sweaty scrotum from his underwear.

“CHECK OUT THE EMPTIES MAHHNNN” roared Gregg, as he dragged his rancid testicles over Lynsi’s tearing eyes and nose as she winced and gagged in disgust. How much longer could she endure the torture of this former Real Rock TV host?

“Leave me alone Gregg! Get out and go to work today!”

Gregg pulled his manhood back into his boxer shorts, trying to hold in his laughter, already thinking of how to convey this comedy gold in a text to Troy Quan later.

“But it’s Thursday!” Gregg sorely grovelled as he was clothing himself.

“You still work on Thursdays, it’s friday that you decided to take off” explained Lynsi, hoping this was the onset of a mind rotting dementia.

Gregg let off a large sigh and left the bedroom, wandering off to leave his lovely apartment, but not before tucking his sweet Hudson who was laying blissfully in his Race-car bed, beside a mangled Robot arm that his father laboured intensely over.

Gregg stepped to the elevator, about to do what he had mastered since he was 18 years of age, perform on the great stage that is radio, to shock and entertain the beleaguered masses.