If your name is not Mariner, then do not read this. This is pure revenge for when I asked for suggestions for if there was any leftist worth hating enough to have hate-f*** fantasies about, he suggested Stelter. I take no responsibility for your mental health if you read past this point.
The hotel room stank of weed and booze. A human whale lay naked face-down on the king-size bed, as a seaman approached him with a grimace. "I hate you and everything that you stand for Stelter, and I'm going to show you just how much."
The Stelter whimpered. "Be gentle."
"No promises!"
The seaman thrust into him carelessly.
"Don't. Stop."
The seaman paused.
"Nono, I mean don't stop!"
"Oh, okay." He continued taking his pleasure in the great white whale.
The half-naked woman lying next to him looked confused. "Wait, why am I even here?"
"Because I gave you weed and booze, Handler," the seaman grunted.
"No I get that, but what for?"
"For THIS!" and the seaman fondled her tits mercilessly, to a feminine squeal.
"Shut up Stelter" two voices said in unison.
The fondling turned into mangling, and the seaman asked amazed, "Wow, how are you so desensitized? Just how many men have you been with anyway?"
"I don't keep track!" two voices answered defensively.
"Uh... okay." If it didn't have a chance of catching on fire or exploding, then the answer was generally more power, so that's what the seaman did. And eventually Handler shuddered and moaned, "I think I just came."
"How can you even not be sure?" the seaman thought to himself, as he very definitely came and then gradually wound down.
Stelter lay on the bed crying softly while the seaman wiped himself, threw on a bathrobe, and left to his own room.
"There, there." Handler patted Stelter's head and comforted him. "Tell mommy what's wrong."
"I think I came, but I can't see past my belly. Can you check?"
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