12-11-2015, 05:36 PM
"Loverboy" - Jesus Christ Pose -->
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEP
 “Sir, if you could please just remove that…† “What, dude? This?† “Loverboy†Vinnie Lane stands shoeless in front of an overweight TSA agent underneath a metal detector with flashing red lights and sirens. With both hands, he grips the sides of his massive CCWF/IWGP Universal Championship title belt and shimmies it up and down for emphasis.  “This doesn’t come off, dude. It’s a part of me, from now until the end of time. Separating me from my title would be like separating Maverick from fecophilia – impossible. You’re gonna have to think of something else, man, and you should probably hurry… these dudes behind me are getting pissed.† Loverboy tilts his head backward and gestures toward the long line of would-be passengers waiting their turn to get through the security checkpoint. They do not look happy.  The TSA agent pauses, then seems to reach a conclusion.  “Sir, if you’d rather submit to a body search, you can walk right over to my associate in the office over there.† The agent points, and Loverboy spies a buxom blonde smiling at him from inside a small room, her TSA badge pinned precariously to a mountainous chest.  “Yup. That sounds like a winning plan, dude. You hold down the fort, I’ll be right back for my stuff after Mile High Molly over here gets herself a handful of Megastar.† With a smirk and a newfound spring in his step, Loverboy saunters over to the blonde in the tiny room, who blushes while she snaps on a pair of latex gloves.  “Look, babe, normally I let broads in on the fact that I’m allergic to latex… but I respect your dedication to safety and keeping this awesome nation secure from the threat of airline terrorism. My friend’s mom who I used to whack off to died in the towers, man. Hashtag RIP. So, you want to start with some small talk or just get your palms warmed by my Loverballs right off the bat?† Loverboy starts stripping down quickly while the hottie TSA inspector continues to redden, standing in front of her soon enough in nothing more than a pair of tiger print speedo underpants… and the gold championship belt.  Loverboy smiles and raises his eyebrows twice in quick succession, then holds his arms to his sides.  “Me and Chris Cornell call this the ‘Jesus Christ Pose.’ Go ahead and touch this messiah body, babydoll.† “It’s Honey.† “Say what?† “Honey, my name. Not ‘babydoll.’ That’s disrespectful.† “I just want to go ahead and get this straight dude… your mom named you Honey, and you think I’m the disrespectful one? Honey, is your last name Solomon or has that cheap bleach just worked its way into your brain?† “Sir!† “My bad, my bad… you may continue.† Finally, Honey the TSA agent begins her exam. She runs her gloved hands across Loverboy’s body, pausing when she reaches his toned abdomen.  “Are you feeling some discomfort, sir?† “Huh? What? No way, dude, why do you think that?† Loverboy shifts his weight from foot to foot and grimaces as he replies. Honey’s smile fades away as she places her palm flat against Loverboy’s stomach.  “Do me a favor, sir? Can you tighten your midsection for me?† “Uh… wait a sec, babe. Are you trying to get a free grab on the Adonis belt? You don’t have to be subtle about it, okay? If you must know, though, I am nursing a sexually induced abdominal strain at the moment. I’m not medically cleared to flex for another 24 hours.† “Well, okay then… I have no choice.† Honey reaches for a small squeeze bottle of lubricant and rubs it across her fingertips, walking slightly behind Loverboy as she does.  “Can you just spread your legs a little further for me, sir? I don’t like this part any more than you do… well, maybe you do… I don’t know. Just hold still and relax, okay?† “What? NO! I do not consent to this! You cannot go in through my out door, Honey! Look, I’ll defy my doctor’s orders just this once if it means I don’t have to have your Lee press-on nails clicking together inside my poop chute, okay? Here. Put your hand on my eight pack.† Honey comes back around to the front of Loverboy and places her hand on his stomach, staring into his sky blue eyes with her own. Loverboy scowls and bears down, forming a perfect octet of chiseled ab muscles underneath the TSA agent’s gloved hand, which produces a sharp gasp from the woman as she quickly retracts her hand as if it had been too close to a stove burner.  “See babe? Told you. I’ve got a guest spot on Sesame Street coming up where I help kids count to eight using my abs. It’s gonna be sweet. Watch while I really get them going…† Loverboy’s expression becomes more severe as his screws his mouth into a knot, popping his abs out even further. Honey starts recording with her cell phone when suddenly Loverboy’s face goes white and a squeaking, popping sound comes from his ass.  “Sir? Are you injured? Don’t tell me you were serious about the doctor’s orders…† “Uh… dude, I need to hit the head real quick. Watch my pants and don’t let anyone steal my bags.† Loverboy swiftly skedaddles out of the small room against protests from Honey, clutching his bikini-clad rear end as he does.  Luckily for him, a family of Arabic looking folks had entered the security area moments before and were being violently tazered by every available TSA agent, allowing the Megastar to slip into a nearby bathroom unnoticed.  Loverboy kicks open a toilet stall door and yanks down his briefs as he sits on the john, a look of fear and anguish on his face.  “Okay, rectum, don’t fail me now. We’ve got a job to do.† The rocker bears down and groans, potentially guaranteeing a later case of hemorrhoids with the amount of force he’s applying onto his anus. After a few harrowing seconds, Loverboy’s eyes pop open and he hops up, turning around to face the toilet bowl.  “Ah, shit.† But, looking into the bowl, it is clear there is no shit. In fact, the only thing in the bowl is a small pink balloon which has apparently ruptured deep inside of the Megastar’s anal cavity.  Loverboy sighs deeply and sits back down onto the bowl, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as he waits for the inevitable.  “Fucking hell. I’m gonna die like Elvis, sitting on a toilet with an exploded heart and an asshole full of cocaine. Got to admit, that’s as fucking rock star as it gets, man.† Loverboy stares up at the acoustic tile ceiling and stretches his bare feet out in front of him, waiting for the coke to hit his bloodstream.  He turns the championship belt over and stares down at the leather back of it, where a photo is taped.  Loverboy and Roxy Cotton, holding on to one another right after he’d won the Hart Championship at the end of the Madness Stampede. Smiles on both of their faces. He runs his fingers over the glossy picture, lingering on his former fiancee’s angelic face, then tentatively poking at the Hart belt in his photographed hands.  “Maybe it was better back then.† And then, as if he’d stuck his dick into an electrical outlet, Loverboy’s entire body freezes and tightens, beginning to convulse. His eyes bug out of their sockets and the veins and ligaments of his neck strain against the skin.  He makes one gulping gasp for breath before falling off of the toilet and onto the tile floor and then, just as suddenly as it hit him, the seizure is finished.  The body of “Loverboy†Vinnie Lane lies motionless on the bathroom floor.
"Loverboy" - Jesus Christ Pose -->
![[Image: Gz87KnQ.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/Gz87KnQ.jpg)
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
