anonymous
10-25-2007, 04:59 PM
Disclaimerant:
It's been a long time, I shouldn't've left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
Think of all the weak shows you slept through
Time's up, I'm sorry I kept you...
--Eric B & Rakim, "I Know You Got Soul"
This was easy.
I did it in one sitting in 4 minutes.
The President isn't a retard.
Oh, by the way, if you haven't gotten the lobotomy reversed, the following
is pure fiction residing solely on the planes of imagination and nowhere in
the real world. The Amanda Beard portrayed herein is nothing more than
words and not meant as accurate commentary (well, besides the medals, she
earned those). Fiction, not documentary.
Of course, if you're under 18, you can't read this. No, really. It's a
thoughtcrime. So, instead, please return to school and get tutoring.
Reading IS fundamental. Good kids.
If you'd like to send praises or curses you can direct either or both to
godhateme79 AT hotmail DOT com. Rest assured, I will read it.
I do believe this is the part where I shoutout KMB or lose my WrestleMania
ticket. So shoutout to the OP (Original Peep), Mr. Kenneth Michael Bolton
for the encouragement, cream, and clear.
And Red State America...from the bottom of my heart...y'all can eat this
dick.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
This...is the city.
Los Angeles, California.
Seven million strong and only six million, six hundred ninety-nine thousand
of them are pushing scripts. But that's not my line of work.
It's Saturday.
I left my work badge.
The plan was simple: my brother and father were going to indulge themselves
in an Angels game. Not being much of a baseball fan since the '94 strike, I
was going to visit my Dreamworks-working friend Mindy, party in some of
L.A.'s clubs, and catch the Amtrak back down tomorrow afternoon. (Why wake
up early? The other alternative would've been to not sleep and catch an
early train straightaway, buuuuuut...early. EW.)
So that's what was happening: we were just outside of the train station
where they would ditch me and Mindy would pick me up, my iPod was in my ears
blaring Ice Cube and my overnight bag was in hand. They honked and sped
towards the new stadium, I stood there singing. As I got to last week where
I had fucked around and got a triple double, she tapped me on the shoulder.
Her red hair had stopped at her shoulders now, and she had on khaki shorts
and a black tank top.
She was like my sister. I kept hoping to get her drunk and have a Southern
family relationship, but no dice as of yet.
I hugged her, dropping my earpieces. I hadn't seen her in a couple months
or so.
Not bad, huh? A nice day, one of my best friends, the prospect of club fun
and alcohol to come. Oh, yeah, and unbeknownsdt to me at the time, I was
going to have sex with someone famous.
I didn't even have to use my AK.
= = = = = = = = = =
The afternoon flew by. She loved the stereo system I lugged up for a
belated birthday gift, we hung out in the Jaccuzzi, and after that I took a
short nap.
I was conserving my energy to get down later, you see.
8:00. We were both getting dressed down the hall from each other, me in my
disco shirt and khakis. As I stood there wondering how much Axe was too
much, I heard a familiar piano riff sound off. It was quickly followed by a
more familiar unbelievably off-tune voice.
"OH, BABY YOUUUUUUUUUUUU YOU GOT WHAT I NEEEEEEEEEEEEEED..."
I started breaking out in laughter. "Mindy, it really takes special talent
to be off-key to fucking "Just A Friend", you know that?"
She was dressed in a black leather miniskirt and a pink belly shirt. C'mere
sis. You sure got a pretty mouth. Heeeheeeeeeeeeee...
"What are you thinking?"
"That baseball was ruined with the advent of the wild card?" She raised
her eyebrow at me as I shaped my face into the biggest wall of passivity I
could muster. Shaking her head, she looked down at her watch before turning
off the stereo. "We better get a move on or we're going to be past late,
man."
"All right, all right."
It was really a shame we weren't going to hook up.
= = = = = = = = = =
So instead, we continued playing catchup. She talked about work and having
sold out to The Man, I told her about my continuing travails with my
friends, work associates, and almost getting arrested for public drunkeness
Memorial Day evening with a bikini model.
Another story. Just like the one I wanted to avoid, and she brought up
anyway.
A true friend will always stab you in the front.--Oscar Wilde
"Did you call Eliza?"
"She said definitely maybe."
"Does that mean no?"
"Got me."
Ah, like every other idiot in the history of mankind I had ruined a series
of good fucks by trying to push it into the square peg of couplehood, or at
least from my perspective hey-how's-about-stop-fucking-other-peoplehood.
She said I didn't have any faith, which was untrue. OK, it was true, but
it was having all the Faith in the first place what led me to that
conclusion. My fifteen hours of fame.
We were trying to be just friends. It was off to a rocky beginning to the
say the least; tonight was my first time back in Tinseltown I hadn't made a
beeline for her house. I sat there, quietly thinking about it. A couple
minutes passed, and then Mindy finally said it.
"We're here."
Well, close to here: we got to the valet parking. As he went to park the
Explorer, we stepped up onto the block and got in line.
"So what's this place called?"
"686."
"How unbelievably Hollywood., it's got a number instead of a name."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Well, the actual address is 686, genius--but
there is a big rumored story about how this place got that number..."
"Can I see some I.D.?"
No, the conversation didn't take a weird turn--they were moving the line
pretty quick. The bouncers looked Mindy over, and checked my face against
the card about 37 times. When I'm 45 I'll be more appreciative of how young
I look; now it's just a fucking pain in the ass. Anyway, she struck up a
conversation with the shorter guy (a mere 6' or so), allowing me to ogle the
coat check hottie they had stationed just inside the door. As we paid, I
heard a familiar beat start up.
"WHAT?!"
Mindy put her face in her hands. "You're not going to do your Lil' Jon all
the way up the stairs, are you?"
"WHAT?!"
She rolled her eyes and started walking up the steps. As I nodded my head
to the beat and admired her tremendo culo, I followed her up. It was sort
of an open-air club at the top floor, allowing you to see some of the city.
686 was a restaurant by day--and apparently a semi-swanky one--so I was
dodging the occassional table with candlelight. After doing the table
slalom, it became apparent where the motherfucking party was at.
The dance floor setup was a modified ampitheater; a bar that was about half
a football field long on my right filled with bartenders trying to serve the
line that was already seven deep. On my left there were a few chairs in a
row lined up for breaks. There was a small floor above us where the DJ was
working already, but it was two floors of dancing in the middle with a small
staircase seperating those wanting to go up from those wanting to come down.
"My friend Keith's working the tables tonight," Mindy yelled in my ear.
"How's he doing?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" We were the same size in normal life, but she was wearing
her probably-fuck-me-heels. I started looking around the floor for
something to poke on. "WE'LL SEE HOW HE DOES!"
It was a couple seconds later he dropped the beat, and I heard the trademark
opening horns to A Tribe Called Quest's "Oh My God". The crowd went "OH!"
and began pumping their hands to the beat.
"HE'S THE BEST!" A Tribe Called Quest, one of my great weaknesses. That
and hot brunettes with low moral standards. I had almost claimed one of the
last two seats together in the joint but with Tribe on that just wasn't
going to happen, so I pulled Mindy to the floor. It was only a little bit
past 10 but the floor was already getting full with like-minded Quest
lovers. I could see a bachelorette party proceeding to bump and grind on
each other in a semi-circle. That was definitely something to check out for
later. After this song, I was definitely going to get a drink.
= = = = = = = = = =
CORRECTION: After this song, "Get It On The Floor", "All Falls Down", and an
absolutely vicious melding of "99 Problems" over the beat to "Change The
Game" I was going to get a drink. That and the fact after some scratching
he'd switched over to that Aguilera/Nelly abortion. Sorry, you just don't
fuck with the classics.
So I sidled up to the bar, sighing at the depth of people in line ahead of
me. I looked around to mentally gobble up the eye candy, and got to the
front. One thing for sure, I was going to pay through the schnozz--well,
actually two things: that and I was going to order multiples so I didn't
have to worry about trying to navigate the sea of humanity all night long.
"Three Coron--oh, geez, I'm sorry."
And then I wasn't. Because there were hotter girls in the place--castoff
Playmates In Training and whatnot, Mindy for one--but this girl was fit.
Both the literal and British slang versions of the term. Her eyes were jade
green, shoulder length black hair. Easy, big fella! I thought to myself
while I did a flash scan of her body: sneakers in lieu of heels (odd, but
whatever), well-shaped legs, schoolgirl skirt...
...we now pause and reconsider atheism as a viable mode of
thought...resume...
...and a #8 Angels jersey. But it wasn't unbuttoned to show her cleavage,
it was unbuttoned to show her abs. It was a frightening display of
perfection, a solid 7-pack at least. I blinked. Quick, say something
witty!
"At least I didn't spill anything." WITTY! You idiot! Not "boring ass
fact", something like "I am Tiger Woods" or "Boy, ever since I saved that
convent of blind nuns my love life's hit the skids." "At least I didn't
spill anything", Shiva H. Vishnu, man.
I was able to go into this self-loating inner monologue because the jade
eyes were staring at me. Usually, when attractive girls stare at me it is a
very clear sign that something quite sizeable is hanging out of one of my
nostrils and waving hello, but from her I didn't get that feeling. I
lightly nudged her shoulder, and even that was tight to the touch.
"Can I buy you a drink?" Sometimes the cliches are cliches because they
held up over the test of time, and this one, right after I thought of a good
line no less, prodded her out of her gaze.
"Sure. A Red Bull and vodka." She had an airy, near
welcome-to-the-O.C.-bitch Valley Girl thing going on with her voice. So I
ordered the ludicrously expensive drinks, and handed her her offering.
"You working on a binge or something?" she asked me, quite cheerfully.
"No, I--"
But by that time, the beat to "On Fire" had begun, and I began to head back
to the floor. With another apology, I bade her farewell. It was something
for the spank bank later. I tried getting back to Mindy but with her
playing the meat in a pretty boy sandwich it was quickly apparent I was
going to have to strike out on my own and see where I could get. I got the
attention of a girl or two, but then Lloyd Banks gave way to "No Diggity".
I heard some girl behind me give an excited yell and looked over.
The Angel, since I hadn't gotten the foresight to get her name, was staring
at me again. That's when I did something uncharacteristic for me: I
gestured for her to come over with a tilt of my head, giving my best facial
"Stop playin'. You know you love me" smile.
She downed the drink and started coming over. Guys were stopping in
mid-move to get a glance.
I can't get her out of my mind
WELL
I think about the girl all the time
WELL WELL
We sort of met a bit past halfway, and faced each other. She was taller
than I was, even with the sneakers on. It wasn't anything fancy at first,
just some standard stuff. I felt eyes on me, although I was more than
willing to bet they were trying to get past me. Except Mindy, who I could
see out of the corner of my eye giving me a surretipitious thumbs-up. As the
song progressed, we both loosened up a bit. Keith reached into the
metaphorical crates and busted out "Real Love" as I made a mental note to
see if I could get him to DJ my New Year's Eve party. Probably not, but
maybe with a couple of words from Mindy, I could...
"What's going on in your head?" she said.
This time? I was ready.
"How Fight Club's nothing more than a live action Calvin & Hobbes."
Feel free to steal that, by the way. So I explained it all and by that time
the new Gwen Stefani single was playing. The pace quickened, as did our
movements against each other. I gave her a little spin, and she leaned up
against me facing away. Her ass slowly worked up my thighs, and the next
destination was obvious. In order to help her balance, I grabbed onto her
waist.
You believe that, you'll believe anything.
She looked back at me with a wan smile on her lips.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I was feeling very good. It was really a combination
of things, though: the woman I was with hadn't moved on yet, we'd gotten a
couple of more drinks in us, and Keith was DJing the way Jordan played
basketball in the pre-Wizards days. Playing Sunday Morning Quarterback, I
would say the turning point came when "Rosa Parks" started playing about
11:45. I was already hearing reports from people around us they were
starting to cut off people downstairs before the fire marshal reared their
heads and busted up the place.
"I know I know who this is," she said. Four Bull & Vodkas, but no slurred
speech.
"It's fucking Outkast," I laughed at her. "Old stuff." She nodded her
head.
"I'm not so hot with remembering bands and names and stuff. I just like the
beats and stuff; I'm usually more of a Dead girl." I looked at her
quizzically because she looked fully animated to me, until she explained:
GRATEFUL Dead. Which made far more sense. I started laughing and fell
forward, leaning into her. She smelled really nice, sort of like
pineapple-orangey. "Oh, I love this part!" The harmonica solo--by the time
I went to explain to her everybody and their baby's mama's neighbor's
daughter Pam loved this part, she was already dipping low.
Well, I loved this part already too. We were both low on the floor, and I
don't know what possessed me to do it (read: the firewater) but as she began
to stand back up, I butterfly kissed her stomach.
It was fucking excellent, a little bit of sweat. What stunned me was the
fact it was like a cutting board--no wonder she was showing it off instead
of the cleavage. It's one thing to see it and another to taste off it. She
put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me up.
"You know, guys usually ask first before they do that sort of thing." She
gave me a little smirk. I put on my best faux innocence face.
"Make-A-Wish was just taking too long to come through, that's all." Her
laugh was great, and honest: very feminine, a good lilt in it. "Besides,
that's as low as I kiss hot girls I just met." She began laughing some
more.
"We'll see."
I used to be such a nice boy, not kissing strange girls who's names I still
didn't know. Then I turned 13 and everything went to hell.
After the inital bit of resistance on her part, she gave it back. It was an
above average kiss. And about 10 seconds later we were done.
"What was THAT, then?" she said.
I shrugged. "I said that was as low as I would be getting."
This is the part where I have to swear to my friends upon retelling the
story it actually happened.
"No, it's not." I smiled broadly. She leaned forward, whispering in my ear
and setting off neurons all over the place. "Come on, another half hour and
we'll head to my place. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful day?"
"Close enough."
So she grinded on me for most of "Let's Get Retarded", we macked for most of
the "One More Chance" remix and bounced back and forth off each other during
the following "Love Like This" remix. She got her hand up at the $100 bill
part, which pleased me greatly. Call me a shallow man if you must, but I've
always dreamed of having a sugar momma do the work while I sit on my ass all
day and watch Buffy reruns. We got a couple more drinks in us and it was at
this point during "Hey DJ" (Lighter Shade Of Brown? Salud!) I decided some
of my textbook drunken breakdancing was in order. So I backed up off to the
side, and did some spinning on my hands leading to me spinning off of my
shoulders. My legs went off and I did a handstand before some spinning on
my head.
I'm not as young as I was when I originally did such things, so it hurt.
But I could hear some of the other people in the crowd reacting, and I spun
out and did the model pose at the end. The cheers were loud enough so that
I don't think anybody heard me slur "I still gots it". She picked me up and
gave me a big tongue-heavy kiss, which made it all worth it.
"Come on. I don't think I've had a hot guy actually breakdance for me
before."
"Yeah, but I--"
"Don't worry about it. It's a nice place, and you'll have both your kidneys
in the a.m."
The drive was short, and then there was one more problem: stairs. But
eventually I made it up them, and she opened the door.
"Welcome to the Factory." She smiled as I followed her past the massive
doors and entered a very posh looking sort of loft. "I hope you brought
your golden ticket."
= = = = = = = = = =
There was a big TV up against the wall, one of those that hang from the
wall, actually. A few tapes scattered on the floor by it, a kitchen, some
various family pictures, a few shot glasses with the same little
red-and-white A on them. What really snatched the brunt of my attention was
the view though. It was panoramic of the city: you could see spotlights
dancing in the sky, the Hollywood sign every so often, ten thousand golden
lights in the distance proclaiming their existence and nothing more. I
could hear the squeak of her shoes behind me but the view was so awesome I
was having trouble refocusing.
"You like?" she asked.
"Yeah...the view's...fucking incredible. But..."
"Oh, no buts. You like the view..." She turned my head back the way it had
been facing, so I only saw the glint in her eyes for a second. "...enjoy
it. And I'll enjoy you."
She massaged my shoulders, and I groaned gratefully almost on impact. When
a job has you standing up for hours at a time, days on end, and you have no
Jacuzzi; it was like a little bit of Christmas right then and there. The
lights sort of hypnotized me as I began to mentally float. Her hands were
firm but strolled leisurely up and down my spine, kneading knots into
submission and straightening out clumps that'd formed.
And, as her fingers walked over my stomach and down into my pants, forming
clumps out of what was straight. I sighed as her hand enclosed around my
dick, leaning back into her as she kissed my neck.
"Mmm...there's something I can work with." she said, whispering into my ear
before flicking at it with my tongue. "You want me to suck you off? Hm?"
"Yeah..." Getting massaged before having sex was going to be an amendment
when I reached the Presidency, I decided. I felt so good it was like I'd
had an orgasm already. She spun gracefully so that we were facing each
other and kissed me. The city was a distant backdrop as the sounds of our
smacking and raspy breaths overtook the room. We seperated.
"First things first." She smiled at me, and slowly slunk down to her knees.
I undid the catch on my jeans as she pulled down the zipper, pushing down
my boxers. Sure enough, my nine inch millimeter almost put her eye out.
Laughing, she grasped my penis in her right hand and I shuddered feeling the
decorative ring on her index finger press against my foreskin. She took a
little bit of it down, and immediately saliva begin to show on it as she
brought it out and slapped the undercarriage of my unit against her tongue.
Her smile was beautiful, said he of the biased opinion, and she worked her
tongue around the head before sucking some more of it down. My hips began
to shuffle.
She played with my nuts for a bit and even sucked on them, but pretty soon
she'd decided she'd had enough and went back to giving me head straight-up.
I stroked her hair as she disengaged, opened her mouth, and left another
trail of saliva on the tip. The fact steam didn't immediately recoil up
made me doubt the laws of physics. She was running her tongue from balls to
head every so often now and my body was about to erupt.
I still didn't know her name. I suspect it wasn't going to matter in the
next 90 to 180 seconds.
She moaned around my cock as I could feel my heart beginning to slow down, a
sure sign that my mental clock was Swiss per usual when it came to these
things.
"I--I'm about to lose control..." I gritted out, seesawing in and out of her
mouth.
She stopped and looked up at me, mumbling something around my cock. I
could've pulled out to find out what it was, but no. I should've? Maybe I
shouldn't've?
Her left hand, which had been forcing my hips into her mouth, suddenly got
rambunctious. There is no nice way to put this: she put her middle finger
in my ass. This was a first for me, and my eyes flew open. I swear to you
I was about to launch a protest that would've had Ghandi rise from his grave
and yell "Way to go!" but I was so close...so close...
Maybe the pain was helping? Surely, the sort of talk I would have to have
with a psychoanalyst in the years to come. Her right hand grabbed my left,
both hands now jerking me off.
"Come on my face. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it..."
It was like a capacity crowd chanting my name. A tear came out of my eye as
I slammed my teeth together and threw myself into it. The imminent future
suddenly crashed into the present and I began coming, groaning and
whimpering as with a final body heave forward sperm loosed itself. It
caught the bridge of her nose, and began running down her face. With as
much notice as I could muster given circumstances she'd released my ass and
was focused on milking me as much as possible. She licked her lips that
were beginning to get protein glossed, and even stuck the finger that'd
been--you know--in her mouth while she licked up the excess. Freak show!
Man, I hope I woke up with both kidneys.
Oh, who'm I kidding? I just came and couldn't've cared less. Usually, I
liked a modicum of control, but almost right away I had felt like I was just
a pawn in her game of human chess. Well, so be it. Somedays a pigeon and
others a statue.
"We...should move this into the bedroom." She stood before me, cum dripping
down her face and still fully clothed as far as I could see. I nodded
ascent. Then I realized...
"Second door on the left."
I proceeded to do my usual 4.8 40 in .2 seconds. Mainly because I forgot my
pants were still around my ankles, and bolting to run 'caused me to fall
down. Luckily despite not having the werewithal to avoid the pratfall I
turned to my side because if I landed on Black Thunder I never would've been
able to forgive myself.
She laughed behind me, and I stood up, grabbed my pants, and in true man
fashion marched to the bedroom as if nothing had happened.
= = = = = = = = = =
Hearing a giggle behind me, I situated on her very comfortable bed. I
pulled the Trojan out of my wallet, then ditched my pants. But what to do
with the cell phone? I had it in my hand, naked (first time for everything)
as I tried to figure out where to stow it. Turning it onto silent, my hand
was going to drop it on the pants on the floor and worry about it later.
That didn't happen.
She stood in the doorway smiling benignly at me, and I was suddenly
transfixed. Absentmindedly I settled the phone down on the dresser by the
headboard, while she ran a hand through her hair vamping it up.
"I hope you're ready for Round 2. You should see what I can do with my
clothes off." she purred. I could only chuckle and temporarily imagine.
STANDING IN HER DOORWAY, she smiled as her hands reached behind her back. A
smile was on my lips but this was to bring one to my eyes as well; she gave
a little shimmy with her hips and the tartan skirt dropped down to pool at
her feet.
White boy shorts with red lace on the fringes.
You could call me Pavlov's dog.
Subconsciously, I began palming my dick, but over the top rather than the
usual pump from underneath. I wanted to be excited but still able to hold
my end of the bargain. You know what I mean. Her low, throaty chuckle
filled up her room as she began swaying to music only she could hear. I
began doing the stripper beat as she reached up and put her dark hair over
her shoulders. Shit, even her ears were kind of hot. With the schoolgirl
skirt on the floor, the jersey was next.
With only three buttons left, this wasn't going to be a Seven Years In Tibet
epic. Give her ******, though; she knew how to prolong the hell out of the
three. The top one went first, revealing the scope of her cleavage. With a
pout and her index finger in her mouth, the bottom button quickly evaporated
to show off more of her toned abs. It was quite the shame I didn't possess
any telepathic powers, as by sheer force of will I was ready to pop that
damn middle button with a stare by this point in time. She made me wait
for it, and just when I was about ready to promise my kidney she shot her
right index finger up and popped it.
No bra.
She still held the jersey in her hands, and carried it just over her nipples
before I could see them. I began to bitch and moan before I began
refocusing on her eyes. I suddenly felt a cold wave go through my body that
stank of deja vu. Like I'd seen my dentist in the outside world but
couldn't quite place a connection...
"You all right?"
"...Yeaah. Yeah, I'm good, good." From awkward to faux smooth in 4.2
seconds!
She smiled at me, breathed out a "Good." and made her way over to the bed.
Her strides were long confident attention-getters that weren't boisterous
but managed to not put focus anywhere else in a fifty-yard radius.
Casually, she pushed me back onto the bed as she took her mouth and started
kissing up my body. Unsurprisingly, my cock had gotten used to the fit of
her right hand, as I was able to quit using my own and used it to stroke the
side of her face while we made out.
Quickly, I found her muscular thighs on the sides of my face. "You know
what's coming next?"
Stifling the "You" I debated about saying, I pushed her cunt open with a
couple of fingers to make room for my tongue as she lowered onto my face.
Immediately, I went to work. I took a long, slow swipe. She had a good
taste that wasn't really in my library of flavor and taste but the closest I
could give for an accurate description was a sort of hybrid
watermelon/caramel sort of deal. I'd eaten out far worse, so I began to lap
at her. Her thighs began grazing my ears as she pushed more of herself out
onto my face, moaning low and it vibrating off of the walls.
"That's a good boy," she groaned, her accent amplifying. "Time you drank
down something that wasn't a Corona..."
Slurping away, I flattened out my tongue and began to fuck away. The groans
got deeper and more gutteral as the hand she was grazing against my forehead
suddenly grabbed my hair.
"Yeah, that's it. Fuck my snatch with that tongue."
My hands went around to her hips, steadily influencing her to go on. I got
within groping distance of the asshole but didn't put anything in there. At
least not yet. I was going to wait until she least expected it and shove
something of my own in there, but that'd come later. I could feel a little
bit of sweat she'd built up over the night drip off of her and land on me,
spurring me on. I slipped my right hand over her pelvis until it was slowly
nudging and caressing her clit. It was slightly bigger than average, which
explained why she was so juicy. Taking a pause to come up for some air, I
began to finger fuck her with my middle finger on the left in her and the
right slowly stroking her clit.
Her eyes were nearly shut, and her hands were pawing at her chest. I've
always said if they let me put my full range of talents on a resume I'd be
CEO of somewhere or other by now.
"Fuck fuck FUCK! Oh, that's it, right there! Eat me up, you bastard!" She
was steadily rubbing her twat all over my face as I finger-fucked and
stroked her like a kitty. "Oh, shit! You're good! So good! I'm about to
cum! You better keep fucking me!"
Why the hell would I not want to? Even if so, where would I go? Sweat was
dripping off the thighs that were slowly squeezing my head, she still hung
onto my hair in the front, my hands were deeper in her than Donnie Brasco...
Suddenly, it occured to me. I went back to teasing her asshole, running
around the corners in circles. I leaned forward and for a coup de gras,
sucked her clit in my mouth.
"OH SHIT!"
If this was the movies, I would've been a little girl playing with a
three-legged puppy on a beach, oblivious to everyone else running to shore.
Because she unleashed a tidal wave of that caramel watermelon on me. I
lapped it up for a while, but she was turning "Fuck" into a nineteen
syllable word, so I jammed it in there like a plunger and attempted to suck
her dry.
After a few contented groans, I pulled my tongue out of her with an emphatic
noise. With a sigh of satisfaction, I rolled over onto my back. In her
post-orgasmic bliss something quickly captured my attention.
I stared up at her ceiling. There wasn't a mirror, but there was a various
array of some sort of sparkly things. As I started to dial down, I realized
it was a low-key but effective way of recreating a starry night. They were
in various clusters, but the ceiling was littered with them.
"Are you done?" she asked me.
"Not if you're not," I said honestly.
"That's what I like to hear," she said quietly, moving against me so that we
formed some sort of blasphemous cross. She kissed my stomach and played
with my nipple as I gave the "I can't believe I just tricked another
beautiful girl into having sex with me" smile. It's a shame I have all this
education and try to enculture myself but you put me around a cute girl and
I revert to every dumb cliche ever spawned. I have a good excuse, though:
I'm a guy.
She reached into the minifridge under her dresser, fishing around. "Hell.
Maybe I have some in the fridge," she said to no one in particular, then
looked back at me. Eventually I took my eyes off her ass.
"Any drink preferences?"
I thought it over and asked for a sports drink or an equivalent, and she
rolled off of me and went into the kitchen. I looked. Some things I'm just
not going to get over. As I sat there in post-coital bliss, it suddenly
occured to me I had just up and ditched Mindy, making me a Bad Friend. Not
only that, but with the charger back home my phone might've been on its
dying moments. I knew better than to brag to a girl about what had just
taken place--much as the urge to brag to anything cognizant was prattling
around in my head--but still, calling her and letting her know not to worry
about me for a bit was the right thing to do.
Reaching over to pick it up, I knocked the phone right into her dresser
drawer. "Smooth," I murmured to myself, sighing in disgust. With a shake
of my head, I reached into it to fish out my lifeline. Panties. More
panties. Something stubby--ah, the end of my antenna cord! (NOT a
metaphor.) As I felt it, my fingers also felt something cold.
This is why being an ex-journalism major gets me in trouble. When I
divulged my plan initially, my mother said it was a cheap excuse to get into
other people's business. That's not why I did it, although my brain process
was always trying to find the one true answer, making me the Mindy (go
figure) in the Animaniacs of life. Looking quickly into the kitchen and not
seeing her coming, I quickly pulled out the cold object for a look.
It wasn't a dildo. While dildos have the possibility of being gold, they
also aren't round. And very rarely are they bilingual in Greek and English.
Two words suddenly jolted me like a cattle prod: OLYMPICO 2004.
"Holy SHIT."
= = = = = = = = = =
There's this moment in the Olbermann/Patrick book where Keith mentions he
runs into David Letterman, who begins to gush over him and says "You're just
doing this to impress me". Keith then explains his feeling about being very
scared that's he's caught up far enough in some sort of race that a personal
hero would not only know who he was, but be pleased to meet him. I had the
same sort of wave pass my body. Did I actually just bump uglies with an
Olympic gold fucking medalist? Isn't there an amendment prohibiting that?
If there was a thing as a just and loving god, he wouldn't be letting this
shit go down, right?
"OK, I hope you like orange Gatorade. By orange, I mean normal, and by
Gatorade, I mean--" You know that moment right when you get busted before
you get yelled at? Welcome aboard, I'm the conductor on that train. The
other thing about a journalistic mind is it doesn't matter when you find out
the one true answer, as long as the answer is true. Suddenly, everything
aligned in my mind up and down like 6:00 to the point where I was surprised
it'd taken me so long to catch on. It explained her body, and the odd
feelings of familiarity I had seeing the U of A shot glass on the counter
and her quasi-pose before she entered the bedroom.
"You're Amanda Beard!" She sighed, rolled her eyes a little bit.
"I am. Now would you mind putting my gold medal down?"
"Oh, right." I quickly ditched it back into the drawer where it belonged.
And looked up at her. She looked pissed, yeah. But it wasn't all rage.
(Thank monkey for that, she could've killed me. Hell, she almost did in
the sex.) There was some confusion with it, and a little bit of scared.
"Wait, you didn't know?"
"Noooo." I thought of censoring myself, but then realized the things I was
thinking would make me look better. "I just knew you were a hot girl, I
didn't realize you were like, famous. I never would've had the cojones to
pull hitting on you if I'd known you were you, I just would've frozen up and
done my Jerry Lewis impersonation." She smiled a little at that, and sat
down on the bed.
Making sure I was still out of punching range, I pulled myself up to a
sitting position. "I went to call my friend on my phone to tell her not to
wait around for me. I knocked it in there when I went to grab it, felt
something, turned out to be a medal." She looked at me, opened the drawer,
and fished around. Her eyes opened a little bit, and then she pulled out my
phone. I nodded. "I'm a schlub, but an honest one."
She took a drink of the bottled water she'd brought. "I'm sorry, it's
just--ever since the photo shoot, guys've been trying to hook up with me
left and right. Starfuckers everywhere. I just assumed you were one and
just trying to play it low-key. That's my fault."
"Understandable." We sat there quietly a few ticks. "Besides, who the
hell's going to believe me? 'Yeah, a gold medalist took me to her place and
wore me OUT!'? You kidding me? If I wasn't me and I heard that coming from
my lips I'd laugh so hard something would rupture." We both had a small
laugh at that. "Life is strange."
"You know, it is," she said. "It really is." She gave me that imperfectly
perfect smile, and I felt good taking the other bottle of water and drinking
it down. "Well, now that we've had the awkwardness for the night done, you
want to go back to..." She gestured around the bed.
I stared at her. "I'm not going to lie to you, Amanda, now that I know who
you are, I really want to get after it again." She finished her water and
looked at me.
"You know, someday, you're going to have to start lying to girls if you want
to get anywhere in life."
My laughter bounced off the walls and the fake stars. "I know it, I know
it. But...until then..." I leaned forward and kissed her, suddenly
renewned with vitamins, minerals, and the looming prospect of having sex
with a famous woman. Again. Her tongue flickered in my mouth and I could
still taste a little bit of myself. I'd be lying if I said I didn't swell
up with pride a little bit at what I'd unknowingly accomplished. I
disengaged our mouths, and immediately began to go up against her neck with
the side of my face as I bit into her shoulder.
She began moaning immediately as I began kissing the valley of her cleavage,
licking up some stray sweat that was wandering there. Chuckling, she slowly
laid back onto her bed as I continued down her body. I began tugging and
playing with her bellybutton before I felt pressure being applied on the top
of my head.
Smirking to myself, I thought, she wants me back in there? So, I looked up.
"What're you doing?"
"Something I've been thinking about since I saw you, is all."
I turned her over, and began rubbing my dick over her pussy lips. I groaned
as she sighed. "I'm going to loosen this tight body up a little bit." She
laughed. How dare she.
"Big talk from a man who hasn't even gotten insid--" The cocky smirk was
quickly replaced by a bitten bottom lip as I threw in about half of my worth
just to shut her up. Olympics, shmolympics, I had a reputation to uphold
here. The oohing gave way to ohing as with a second thrust I was inside her
fully.
Amanda exclaimed, "Ooh! That feels nice!" as I began to slowly roll back
and forth.
"Yeah, the talk's not the only big thing I got, wiseass." I grabbed onto
her leg to give me some more leverage as I continued burrowing inside, my
face tightening with the effort I was exerting. She was really tight, and I
began to bite my own lip as I went about prolonging the magic. "Grab the
foot of the bed," I instructed as she looked back at me before putting her
arms against the woodgrain, grabbing onto the ends. I began to stroke her
nipples with my hands.
"Oh, fuck, that's it. Fondle my tits. Do it." My hands roamed across her
breasts, stroking, sometimes holding, but always in motion as I began to
quicken my pelvic pace watching her crazy body jerk back against mine.
"Fucking hell..." I spat out between breaths as I continued to do work.
"Faster...faster..."
I began to go quicker, and I leaned forward to find my sweat dripping off
onto her body. With an evil grin on my face, I began to tongue her ass
cheeks.
"Mmm..you're good at licking me clean!" She began thrusting back against
me. It didn't matter what I used to delay it, arrivals were going to mount
up in the next minute or two. I leaned forward and began tonguing her
asshole, my face buried in her starfish.
"Oh, holy fuck!"
"You play with my ass, I play with yours!" I grunted, practically feeling my
eyes cross as she began to reach down and play with her clit with a hand
still grasping and clawing at the headboard.
"Fuck it! Take it!"
"Yeah, you take it, you little Olympic slut!"
"Oh, God, I'm going to come! Keep fingering my ass! Don't stop! Mmmm oh
fuck!"
My balls continued to emphatically slam against her thighs and cheeks as her
breasts jiggled, shoulder-length hair in fallout all around her as she went
against my body, I watched as I drove myself into her. She was so close,
but how was I to keep her coming first?
I suddenly remembered an episode of Scrubs and bit her ass.
"Ow!"
Fuck, that didn't work. "Do it again." Hell, maybe it did. I bit again,
sinking my teeth in her as we continued fucking.
"Is it sore? Should I make it all better?"
"Oh, fuck, you bastard, here it is!"
I watched the flow over me as I began to slow down, lightly stroking her
clit as she screamed out in joy, before letting go of the headboard and
getting on her knees.
Quickly, my balls were in her mouth and her hands were on my cock.
"Yeah, you're gonna fucking come now, aren't you? Come all over my slutty
face, put that big dick in my mouth." I tried everything I could do, but
with both her hands on me, and her face rubbing against me.
"I bet you came all over me in FHM and wanted to do this, didn't you? I bet
I had you coming three, four times a day, you pervert. Mmm...." She
slurped as her mouth came off of my mouth. "Do it. C'mon, you--"
I grabbed her by the hair, and set myself up.
"Shut....up! FUCK!" Right as I re-entered her mouth, I began producing a
couple days worth right down her smiling face as her hand still stroked my
testicles, emptying a second payload for the evening. We both flopped
against the bed, moaning contendtedly.
"Nothing romantic about that," she said, and laughed. But by then, the
smile was on my face and the dream world was calling. Her pillows were so
soft and big.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I guess I'll go count the sheep...
= = = = = = = = = =
COMING OUT OF THE DARKNESS, I groaned and rolled over until my feet were
touching floor. Without an alarm to provoke me into action, I tended to
find putting my feet on the floor made me want to get up to start walking,
whereas if I stayed in bed I'd tend to go back. Feet led me into the
bathroom, where I proceeded to empty my cache and start up the shower.
Yawning, I pushed the door back into place while I reached for my towel set.
It suddenly occured to me my shower had no door, it had drapes.
So I wasn't in my bathroom...which meant I hadn't rolled out of my
bed...which meant...
Some things are always going to put a smile on my face, and hooking up's one
of them. With another stretch and yawn, I stepped into the shower. Feeling
pretty confident after last night, I made sure to take my time while I did
my usual American Idol audition (today's selections: the "Best Of Me" remix,
"Take Me To The River", and a rousing "Once In A Lifetime"). It took me a
bit of time to realize while some dreams come true, others die deferred.
Nevertheless, I stepped out and toweled off, making sure to use her
hairdryer to blow out my miniFro.
It was oddly quiet in the house, but I could hear a low hum somewhere. I
re-entered the bedroom, slowly finding my clothes and picking them off the
floor. Maybe it was from Amanda. I hadn't heard or seen her since I'd
pulled out hours ago.
Hell, if last night was such a virtual dream--she was probably in the
kitchen cooking breakfast! Hash browns, bacon, flapjacks the size of Leno's
head, some orange juice...
...fully reinvigorated by the idea of rebuilding my sapped energy I bounded
towards the kitchen, zipping up my pants along the way.
"Guh-ee-OD, I am hungr--"
So, she was laying on the couch. One foot at the foot of the couch, the
rest of her spread out across the black leather. One of her hands ran
through her hair, and she looked up at me and floored with a brilliant
smile. That and the nudity. Mostly the latter; I think I proceeded to let
out an eight-syllable word that had no vowels.
She let out a throaty chuckle and decided to speak. "Well, I assumed you
wanted breakfast. But I was too tired to really make anything." Her
eyebrow raised. "I did grab a banana for you." That grin playing upon her
face as my mind almost seized its way into a coma... "...I really wish I
could remember where the hell I put it, though..."
Maybe later on in life, when I was older and banned from every grocery store
for having an erection around the produce section, would come an instance of
regret. But that was the future. Right now, it was time for me to eat at
the Y.
On my knees I fell before her, nuzzling the side of her pussy with my face
like a puppy against it's favorite member of the family. I tugged at her
lips with my teeth but that was all the teasing I felt like doing at this
juncture. It was like leaving something out to cool for a bit after it got
out of the oven; you try to cut into it right away, stuff s***** and it
loses some of the flavor in your insistence. Wait five minutes, and it's
the pinnacle of fine eating.
"Mmm-mmm, that's it."
To wit.
I knew from the moment I tasted this it was going down on the High Fidelity
short list of foods I would always remember as being instantly thrown into
nirvana upon the first consumption. Lobster was going to have to be dropped
from the top.
There was something about her essence and the banana I was slowly drawing
out with my teeth by degrees that was really something to behold. It was
taking every effort to not just go in and barrel through the whole thing in
45 seconds; I practically wanted to bathe in the stuff. I knew what the
next step once I'd finished her off was, and at that point I was planning to
let forth a constant stream of profanity that would've made even the ACLU
not take my side. But instead, I gripped her ass with my hands and listened
to her go.
"Yeah, you eat that delicious pussy all up. I bet you've never had it this
good, have you?"
Pulling away for a little breath break, I merely smiled and let my tongue
wander across the corner of my bottom lip before I went back in and
proceeded to tongue N and O repeatedly on her love button. Let it not be
said I'm the sort of person what dodges questions. I could feel her getting
close to something, so I retreated back down south and went back to
breakfast. My head bobbed back and forth as some more of her cum dribbled
out with every bite, already saturating the fruit and leaving my face a
delightful mess.
"You like your breakfast? There's still some more for you if you're a good
boy." Her hips rose up and I leaned forward to keep my balance, face still
deeper in her than Michael in pesky allegations. I could feel my jaw
stretching to maximum capacity as I continued to have my banana and drink
her too, getting a brief view of the city as she reangled her body so she
hung off the couch partially.
"Eat my pussy! Eat it right there!" Hitting a cluster of nerve endings, I
smacked it around with my tongue from a few different angles. "Oh, fucking
shit! I'm going to...going...I'm about...cum!"
Another wave rippled against my face, and I decided to inhale as much as I
could. This time, I didn't swallow and hung onto it. I pulled away from
her as she lazily stroked her lips, sighing contendtedly. Her eyes were
closed and I opened my mouth slowly, her cum dripping in tears from my mouth
onto her face. Gasping in surprise opened her mouth and she moaned as the
drizzle went into her mouth. Continuing my long-distance snowball, I gave
her wet pussy a slap before I impatiently shoved my way in.
"Oh! You dirty bastard! Shove that dick in my wet pussy!"
I spit more cum on her face and began to kick into overdrive. Between the
heat of the situation, the likelihood of it happening again, and the dirty
talk I suspected me holding off was but a candle in the wind.
"I'm not the one with her head upside down trying to win all the medals at
the Slut Olympics!" the apprentice devil on my shoulder yelled, the words
somehow in synch with what I was saying. "You're going to take it all and
it's going to be the fucking highlight of your life!"
All the while, my balls were merrily slapping against her ass as she pawed
at her chest, drawing some of my spit/her orgasm and sucking it off her
fingers. I took this opportunity to tune in Tokyo for the boys overseas and
continued to bang the shit out of her.
Her cry of "Fuck me!" was shrill and insistent, like a police alarm one
would actually want to listen to. I could hear her groan and curse but I
had planned one last master stroke. It was at this point my right hand
slowly withdrew from her mouth and slipped down her body.
I groped, and then my middle finger was right in her ass.
"Hol-y FUCK!" she yelled out, her hands shooting out to the couch. She
began to lean over but I tipped us back the way we were supposed to go.
"Ohhhh, that feels good!" I merely smiled and continued the yeoman duty as I
could feel her approach the inevitable final stop on the O train. "Oh, my
God! Oh, my God!"
"How's that cock feel!"
"Oh, yeah, it--oh, GOD, right there, right there! I'm going to..."
Slowly I pulled out of her. "What? No!"
"You're not doing anything until I do something."
In case you were wondering, this is where the angel was supposed to show up.
Sadly, another apprentice devil bitchslapped that pious fucker and sent
him packing.
"What's thaHOLY FUCKING CHRIST!"
In the immortal words of student of the human spirit and noted sociologist
Bob Ritchie, yeah, this dick's going right in your ass. For the coup
d'gras, I leaned over and sucked her clit into my mouth, trying to ignore
the parts of her that tasted like they had been parts of me in the recent
past and honing in on the banana portions. She kept yelling "FUCK!" and
"SUCK!" and some other things that started off words but dissolved into
screams of joy and deep moans. I swore I wasn't going to until she did. I
swore. When I swore on it a third time, she went off. She stretched out
the word "Yeah!" until it would've left Howard Dean and Lil' Jon speechless.
After that stirring display, there was only one thing left to say.
"I'm gonna nut!"
"Not in my ass!" she pleaded, and given her occupation that made sense.
"Put it in my mouth!"
I pulled out, leaving her gasping momentarily before I filled that void. My
head fell forward, and she stroked my balls insistently as I sent off
another protein smoothie down her throat. After about a minute or so, she
had sucked me dry. She swallowed it down as she let me go, and I hit the
floor. We didn't say much for a bit after that; the same room that'd heard
us reenact 9½ Weeks was filled with nothing but quiet contentment and the
occassional gasp for air.
"THAT..." I said, vying for a mention in the Understatement of the Year
award. "...was intense."
My head rolled around to look at her. It was like I had Rubik's Cubed the
situation when I came in: her head was were her feet had been, her pelvis
hanging over the lid of the couch at an angle as she looked down on me and
out at the skyline.
"Baby, you ain't lyin'." With that, she gave a little chuckle as I tried to
focus on something else, anything else in the room.
The wall clock displaying 11:28 would do nicely.
Wait a tick, 11:28!? Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck...
"Amanda, this is going to sound redundant. But do you think I can get
another ride from you?"
= = = = = = = = = =
We were on our way to Union Station, Steve Miller blaring in our ears. She
was laughing. It was a superlative laugh.
"You mean to tell me I hooked up with a guy who can't even SWIM?!"
I shrugged. Amanda shook her head as she turned the corner.
"Well, you know what they say about us guys who can't swim..."
She turned down the radio and turned into the parking lot at the Union.
"There's a thing they say about guys who can't swim?"
"No."
The car pulled up to a halt. "Well, if they're all like you, they fuck like
the devil." She gave me a light kiss on the mouth, which deepened after a
few seconds. We separated. "Do you have everything?"
I did a mental review. "Yeah, I'm set."
"You're calling, right?"
"You're coming to my New Year's party, yeah?" She smiled. "Maybe. If
you're good."
"What if I'm naughty?" I said, affecting a schoolgirl pout.
"Then it's a da--deal."
"Cool." I checked my watch, still 10 minutes. "I better book."
"All right. See you soon."
"Yeah. Or call you sooner. Or something pithy and wise you heard someone
else say."
"Like 'smell you later'?"
I nodded. She pulled away, and I turned into the station. See, that had
went well. But there was still this niggling idea in the back of my mind
I'd forgotten something or other. Suddenly, I began hearing "She Wants To
Move" by N.E.R.D.
Looking down, I could see my iPod still in hand and still off. Reaching
into my jacket pocket, I pulled out the cell.
"Mindy?"
"PLEASE tell me you're at the bus station, your train is like--"
"I'm here, I'm here. Settle down, Mother." I laughed, handing my ticket
over to the agent and heading to the line taking me to the train home. "So
what's what?"
"Oh, no, you don't, that's what I say to you!" she laughed.
"Nothing major. Going home. Sorry I didn't kick it with you more, but..."
"That number at the club last night, yeah, yeah. You hook up?"
"MINDY! A gentlemen never tells such things."
There was silence.
"I realize this isn't a video phone, but can you hear me rolling my eyes?"
As I entered the train and found myself a seat, I had to laugh. "C'mon, I
know it happened already because you didn't call me and get your change of
clothes out my car."
My face crumpled in on itself. I knew I'd forgotten something along the
way, and there you go. "So fucking mail it to me. Anyway, things went all
right, obviously. What about you?"
"Me? Things went all ri--"
"Hey. You want some pancakes?" That was odd, a distinct Boston accent.
"I'll be in in a minute!" Mindy called.
"Well, we better go out, 'cause we used all the syrup." The laugh set me
off. The voice was female. And familiar.
Will the mystery guest known as Eliza Dushku please sign in?
"Mindy."
"Hm?"
"What. THE. FUCK."
"It's a long story. I gotta go, she's doing something with the spatula."
"Mindy, don't you--"
Beep. Gone.
Mindy had fucked Eliza. How? Did Eliza know I knew Mindy or was she just
out to get it on last night? Did Mindy get her to try and get me into an
epic threeway more suited to snoring on pillows? I mean, I could've tortured
myself until the judgment day about that. But suddenly, I heard a lyric
from Metallica that put everything into perspective right as I remembered
the celebrity I'd sampled not hours ago:
Fuck it all and no regrets.
Jamesy had a point.
Besides, I'd get the story from Mindy in good time. And I'd call Amanda
before that.
"It's just masturbation, where's the harm in it? Where's the harm in it, I
ask you? *I* masturbate! I masturbate like I think if I keep doing it, I'm
gonna win something. That's the way I do it. One shot, one kill. There
can be only one Highlander."
--Dave Attell
It's been a long time, I shouldn't've left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
Think of all the weak shows you slept through
Time's up, I'm sorry I kept you...
--Eric B & Rakim, "I Know You Got Soul"
This was easy.
I did it in one sitting in 4 minutes.
The President isn't a retard.
Oh, by the way, if you haven't gotten the lobotomy reversed, the following
is pure fiction residing solely on the planes of imagination and nowhere in
the real world. The Amanda Beard portrayed herein is nothing more than
words and not meant as accurate commentary (well, besides the medals, she
earned those). Fiction, not documentary.
Of course, if you're under 18, you can't read this. No, really. It's a
thoughtcrime. So, instead, please return to school and get tutoring.
Reading IS fundamental. Good kids.
If you'd like to send praises or curses you can direct either or both to
godhateme79 AT hotmail DOT com. Rest assured, I will read it.
I do believe this is the part where I shoutout KMB or lose my WrestleMania
ticket. So shoutout to the OP (Original Peep), Mr. Kenneth Michael Bolton
for the encouragement, cream, and clear.
And Red State America...from the bottom of my heart...y'all can eat this
dick.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
This...is the city.
Los Angeles, California.
Seven million strong and only six million, six hundred ninety-nine thousand
of them are pushing scripts. But that's not my line of work.
It's Saturday.
I left my work badge.
The plan was simple: my brother and father were going to indulge themselves
in an Angels game. Not being much of a baseball fan since the '94 strike, I
was going to visit my Dreamworks-working friend Mindy, party in some of
L.A.'s clubs, and catch the Amtrak back down tomorrow afternoon. (Why wake
up early? The other alternative would've been to not sleep and catch an
early train straightaway, buuuuuut...early. EW.)
So that's what was happening: we were just outside of the train station
where they would ditch me and Mindy would pick me up, my iPod was in my ears
blaring Ice Cube and my overnight bag was in hand. They honked and sped
towards the new stadium, I stood there singing. As I got to last week where
I had fucked around and got a triple double, she tapped me on the shoulder.
Her red hair had stopped at her shoulders now, and she had on khaki shorts
and a black tank top.
She was like my sister. I kept hoping to get her drunk and have a Southern
family relationship, but no dice as of yet.
I hugged her, dropping my earpieces. I hadn't seen her in a couple months
or so.
Not bad, huh? A nice day, one of my best friends, the prospect of club fun
and alcohol to come. Oh, yeah, and unbeknownsdt to me at the time, I was
going to have sex with someone famous.
I didn't even have to use my AK.
= = = = = = = = = =
The afternoon flew by. She loved the stereo system I lugged up for a
belated birthday gift, we hung out in the Jaccuzzi, and after that I took a
short nap.
I was conserving my energy to get down later, you see.
8:00. We were both getting dressed down the hall from each other, me in my
disco shirt and khakis. As I stood there wondering how much Axe was too
much, I heard a familiar piano riff sound off. It was quickly followed by a
more familiar unbelievably off-tune voice.
"OH, BABY YOUUUUUUUUUUUU YOU GOT WHAT I NEEEEEEEEEEEEEED..."
I started breaking out in laughter. "Mindy, it really takes special talent
to be off-key to fucking "Just A Friend", you know that?"
She was dressed in a black leather miniskirt and a pink belly shirt. C'mere
sis. You sure got a pretty mouth. Heeeheeeeeeeeeee...
"What are you thinking?"
"That baseball was ruined with the advent of the wild card?" She raised
her eyebrow at me as I shaped my face into the biggest wall of passivity I
could muster. Shaking her head, she looked down at her watch before turning
off the stereo. "We better get a move on or we're going to be past late,
man."
"All right, all right."
It was really a shame we weren't going to hook up.
= = = = = = = = = =
So instead, we continued playing catchup. She talked about work and having
sold out to The Man, I told her about my continuing travails with my
friends, work associates, and almost getting arrested for public drunkeness
Memorial Day evening with a bikini model.
Another story. Just like the one I wanted to avoid, and she brought up
anyway.
A true friend will always stab you in the front.--Oscar Wilde
"Did you call Eliza?"
"She said definitely maybe."
"Does that mean no?"
"Got me."
Ah, like every other idiot in the history of mankind I had ruined a series
of good fucks by trying to push it into the square peg of couplehood, or at
least from my perspective hey-how's-about-stop-fucking-other-peoplehood.
She said I didn't have any faith, which was untrue. OK, it was true, but
it was having all the Faith in the first place what led me to that
conclusion. My fifteen hours of fame.
We were trying to be just friends. It was off to a rocky beginning to the
say the least; tonight was my first time back in Tinseltown I hadn't made a
beeline for her house. I sat there, quietly thinking about it. A couple
minutes passed, and then Mindy finally said it.
"We're here."
Well, close to here: we got to the valet parking. As he went to park the
Explorer, we stepped up onto the block and got in line.
"So what's this place called?"
"686."
"How unbelievably Hollywood., it's got a number instead of a name."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Well, the actual address is 686, genius--but
there is a big rumored story about how this place got that number..."
"Can I see some I.D.?"
No, the conversation didn't take a weird turn--they were moving the line
pretty quick. The bouncers looked Mindy over, and checked my face against
the card about 37 times. When I'm 45 I'll be more appreciative of how young
I look; now it's just a fucking pain in the ass. Anyway, she struck up a
conversation with the shorter guy (a mere 6' or so), allowing me to ogle the
coat check hottie they had stationed just inside the door. As we paid, I
heard a familiar beat start up.
"WHAT?!"
Mindy put her face in her hands. "You're not going to do your Lil' Jon all
the way up the stairs, are you?"
"WHAT?!"
She rolled her eyes and started walking up the steps. As I nodded my head
to the beat and admired her tremendo culo, I followed her up. It was sort
of an open-air club at the top floor, allowing you to see some of the city.
686 was a restaurant by day--and apparently a semi-swanky one--so I was
dodging the occassional table with candlelight. After doing the table
slalom, it became apparent where the motherfucking party was at.
The dance floor setup was a modified ampitheater; a bar that was about half
a football field long on my right filled with bartenders trying to serve the
line that was already seven deep. On my left there were a few chairs in a
row lined up for breaks. There was a small floor above us where the DJ was
working already, but it was two floors of dancing in the middle with a small
staircase seperating those wanting to go up from those wanting to come down.
"My friend Keith's working the tables tonight," Mindy yelled in my ear.
"How's he doing?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" We were the same size in normal life, but she was wearing
her probably-fuck-me-heels. I started looking around the floor for
something to poke on. "WE'LL SEE HOW HE DOES!"
It was a couple seconds later he dropped the beat, and I heard the trademark
opening horns to A Tribe Called Quest's "Oh My God". The crowd went "OH!"
and began pumping their hands to the beat.
"HE'S THE BEST!" A Tribe Called Quest, one of my great weaknesses. That
and hot brunettes with low moral standards. I had almost claimed one of the
last two seats together in the joint but with Tribe on that just wasn't
going to happen, so I pulled Mindy to the floor. It was only a little bit
past 10 but the floor was already getting full with like-minded Quest
lovers. I could see a bachelorette party proceeding to bump and grind on
each other in a semi-circle. That was definitely something to check out for
later. After this song, I was definitely going to get a drink.
= = = = = = = = = =
CORRECTION: After this song, "Get It On The Floor", "All Falls Down", and an
absolutely vicious melding of "99 Problems" over the beat to "Change The
Game" I was going to get a drink. That and the fact after some scratching
he'd switched over to that Aguilera/Nelly abortion. Sorry, you just don't
fuck with the classics.
So I sidled up to the bar, sighing at the depth of people in line ahead of
me. I looked around to mentally gobble up the eye candy, and got to the
front. One thing for sure, I was going to pay through the schnozz--well,
actually two things: that and I was going to order multiples so I didn't
have to worry about trying to navigate the sea of humanity all night long.
"Three Coron--oh, geez, I'm sorry."
And then I wasn't. Because there were hotter girls in the place--castoff
Playmates In Training and whatnot, Mindy for one--but this girl was fit.
Both the literal and British slang versions of the term. Her eyes were jade
green, shoulder length black hair. Easy, big fella! I thought to myself
while I did a flash scan of her body: sneakers in lieu of heels (odd, but
whatever), well-shaped legs, schoolgirl skirt...
...we now pause and reconsider atheism as a viable mode of
thought...resume...
...and a #8 Angels jersey. But it wasn't unbuttoned to show her cleavage,
it was unbuttoned to show her abs. It was a frightening display of
perfection, a solid 7-pack at least. I blinked. Quick, say something
witty!
"At least I didn't spill anything." WITTY! You idiot! Not "boring ass
fact", something like "I am Tiger Woods" or "Boy, ever since I saved that
convent of blind nuns my love life's hit the skids." "At least I didn't
spill anything", Shiva H. Vishnu, man.
I was able to go into this self-loating inner monologue because the jade
eyes were staring at me. Usually, when attractive girls stare at me it is a
very clear sign that something quite sizeable is hanging out of one of my
nostrils and waving hello, but from her I didn't get that feeling. I
lightly nudged her shoulder, and even that was tight to the touch.
"Can I buy you a drink?" Sometimes the cliches are cliches because they
held up over the test of time, and this one, right after I thought of a good
line no less, prodded her out of her gaze.
"Sure. A Red Bull and vodka." She had an airy, near
welcome-to-the-O.C.-bitch Valley Girl thing going on with her voice. So I
ordered the ludicrously expensive drinks, and handed her her offering.
"You working on a binge or something?" she asked me, quite cheerfully.
"No, I--"
But by that time, the beat to "On Fire" had begun, and I began to head back
to the floor. With another apology, I bade her farewell. It was something
for the spank bank later. I tried getting back to Mindy but with her
playing the meat in a pretty boy sandwich it was quickly apparent I was
going to have to strike out on my own and see where I could get. I got the
attention of a girl or two, but then Lloyd Banks gave way to "No Diggity".
I heard some girl behind me give an excited yell and looked over.
The Angel, since I hadn't gotten the foresight to get her name, was staring
at me again. That's when I did something uncharacteristic for me: I
gestured for her to come over with a tilt of my head, giving my best facial
"Stop playin'. You know you love me" smile.
She downed the drink and started coming over. Guys were stopping in
mid-move to get a glance.
I can't get her out of my mind
WELL
I think about the girl all the time
WELL WELL
We sort of met a bit past halfway, and faced each other. She was taller
than I was, even with the sneakers on. It wasn't anything fancy at first,
just some standard stuff. I felt eyes on me, although I was more than
willing to bet they were trying to get past me. Except Mindy, who I could
see out of the corner of my eye giving me a surretipitious thumbs-up. As the
song progressed, we both loosened up a bit. Keith reached into the
metaphorical crates and busted out "Real Love" as I made a mental note to
see if I could get him to DJ my New Year's Eve party. Probably not, but
maybe with a couple of words from Mindy, I could...
"What's going on in your head?" she said.
This time? I was ready.
"How Fight Club's nothing more than a live action Calvin & Hobbes."
Feel free to steal that, by the way. So I explained it all and by that time
the new Gwen Stefani single was playing. The pace quickened, as did our
movements against each other. I gave her a little spin, and she leaned up
against me facing away. Her ass slowly worked up my thighs, and the next
destination was obvious. In order to help her balance, I grabbed onto her
waist.
You believe that, you'll believe anything.
She looked back at me with a wan smile on her lips.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I was feeling very good. It was really a combination
of things, though: the woman I was with hadn't moved on yet, we'd gotten a
couple of more drinks in us, and Keith was DJing the way Jordan played
basketball in the pre-Wizards days. Playing Sunday Morning Quarterback, I
would say the turning point came when "Rosa Parks" started playing about
11:45. I was already hearing reports from people around us they were
starting to cut off people downstairs before the fire marshal reared their
heads and busted up the place.
"I know I know who this is," she said. Four Bull & Vodkas, but no slurred
speech.
"It's fucking Outkast," I laughed at her. "Old stuff." She nodded her
head.
"I'm not so hot with remembering bands and names and stuff. I just like the
beats and stuff; I'm usually more of a Dead girl." I looked at her
quizzically because she looked fully animated to me, until she explained:
GRATEFUL Dead. Which made far more sense. I started laughing and fell
forward, leaning into her. She smelled really nice, sort of like
pineapple-orangey. "Oh, I love this part!" The harmonica solo--by the time
I went to explain to her everybody and their baby's mama's neighbor's
daughter Pam loved this part, she was already dipping low.
Well, I loved this part already too. We were both low on the floor, and I
don't know what possessed me to do it (read: the firewater) but as she began
to stand back up, I butterfly kissed her stomach.
It was fucking excellent, a little bit of sweat. What stunned me was the
fact it was like a cutting board--no wonder she was showing it off instead
of the cleavage. It's one thing to see it and another to taste off it. She
put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me up.
"You know, guys usually ask first before they do that sort of thing." She
gave me a little smirk. I put on my best faux innocence face.
"Make-A-Wish was just taking too long to come through, that's all." Her
laugh was great, and honest: very feminine, a good lilt in it. "Besides,
that's as low as I kiss hot girls I just met." She began laughing some
more.
"We'll see."
I used to be such a nice boy, not kissing strange girls who's names I still
didn't know. Then I turned 13 and everything went to hell.
After the inital bit of resistance on her part, she gave it back. It was an
above average kiss. And about 10 seconds later we were done.
"What was THAT, then?" she said.
I shrugged. "I said that was as low as I would be getting."
This is the part where I have to swear to my friends upon retelling the
story it actually happened.
"No, it's not." I smiled broadly. She leaned forward, whispering in my ear
and setting off neurons all over the place. "Come on, another half hour and
we'll head to my place. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful day?"
"Close enough."
So she grinded on me for most of "Let's Get Retarded", we macked for most of
the "One More Chance" remix and bounced back and forth off each other during
the following "Love Like This" remix. She got her hand up at the $100 bill
part, which pleased me greatly. Call me a shallow man if you must, but I've
always dreamed of having a sugar momma do the work while I sit on my ass all
day and watch Buffy reruns. We got a couple more drinks in us and it was at
this point during "Hey DJ" (Lighter Shade Of Brown? Salud!) I decided some
of my textbook drunken breakdancing was in order. So I backed up off to the
side, and did some spinning on my hands leading to me spinning off of my
shoulders. My legs went off and I did a handstand before some spinning on
my head.
I'm not as young as I was when I originally did such things, so it hurt.
But I could hear some of the other people in the crowd reacting, and I spun
out and did the model pose at the end. The cheers were loud enough so that
I don't think anybody heard me slur "I still gots it". She picked me up and
gave me a big tongue-heavy kiss, which made it all worth it.
"Come on. I don't think I've had a hot guy actually breakdance for me
before."
"Yeah, but I--"
"Don't worry about it. It's a nice place, and you'll have both your kidneys
in the a.m."
The drive was short, and then there was one more problem: stairs. But
eventually I made it up them, and she opened the door.
"Welcome to the Factory." She smiled as I followed her past the massive
doors and entered a very posh looking sort of loft. "I hope you brought
your golden ticket."
= = = = = = = = = =
There was a big TV up against the wall, one of those that hang from the
wall, actually. A few tapes scattered on the floor by it, a kitchen, some
various family pictures, a few shot glasses with the same little
red-and-white A on them. What really snatched the brunt of my attention was
the view though. It was panoramic of the city: you could see spotlights
dancing in the sky, the Hollywood sign every so often, ten thousand golden
lights in the distance proclaiming their existence and nothing more. I
could hear the squeak of her shoes behind me but the view was so awesome I
was having trouble refocusing.
"You like?" she asked.
"Yeah...the view's...fucking incredible. But..."
"Oh, no buts. You like the view..." She turned my head back the way it had
been facing, so I only saw the glint in her eyes for a second. "...enjoy
it. And I'll enjoy you."
She massaged my shoulders, and I groaned gratefully almost on impact. When
a job has you standing up for hours at a time, days on end, and you have no
Jacuzzi; it was like a little bit of Christmas right then and there. The
lights sort of hypnotized me as I began to mentally float. Her hands were
firm but strolled leisurely up and down my spine, kneading knots into
submission and straightening out clumps that'd formed.
And, as her fingers walked over my stomach and down into my pants, forming
clumps out of what was straight. I sighed as her hand enclosed around my
dick, leaning back into her as she kissed my neck.
"Mmm...there's something I can work with." she said, whispering into my ear
before flicking at it with my tongue. "You want me to suck you off? Hm?"
"Yeah..." Getting massaged before having sex was going to be an amendment
when I reached the Presidency, I decided. I felt so good it was like I'd
had an orgasm already. She spun gracefully so that we were facing each
other and kissed me. The city was a distant backdrop as the sounds of our
smacking and raspy breaths overtook the room. We seperated.
"First things first." She smiled at me, and slowly slunk down to her knees.
I undid the catch on my jeans as she pulled down the zipper, pushing down
my boxers. Sure enough, my nine inch millimeter almost put her eye out.
Laughing, she grasped my penis in her right hand and I shuddered feeling the
decorative ring on her index finger press against my foreskin. She took a
little bit of it down, and immediately saliva begin to show on it as she
brought it out and slapped the undercarriage of my unit against her tongue.
Her smile was beautiful, said he of the biased opinion, and she worked her
tongue around the head before sucking some more of it down. My hips began
to shuffle.
She played with my nuts for a bit and even sucked on them, but pretty soon
she'd decided she'd had enough and went back to giving me head straight-up.
I stroked her hair as she disengaged, opened her mouth, and left another
trail of saliva on the tip. The fact steam didn't immediately recoil up
made me doubt the laws of physics. She was running her tongue from balls to
head every so often now and my body was about to erupt.
I still didn't know her name. I suspect it wasn't going to matter in the
next 90 to 180 seconds.
She moaned around my cock as I could feel my heart beginning to slow down, a
sure sign that my mental clock was Swiss per usual when it came to these
things.
"I--I'm about to lose control..." I gritted out, seesawing in and out of her
mouth.
She stopped and looked up at me, mumbling something around my cock. I
could've pulled out to find out what it was, but no. I should've? Maybe I
shouldn't've?
Her left hand, which had been forcing my hips into her mouth, suddenly got
rambunctious. There is no nice way to put this: she put her middle finger
in my ass. This was a first for me, and my eyes flew open. I swear to you
I was about to launch a protest that would've had Ghandi rise from his grave
and yell "Way to go!" but I was so close...so close...
Maybe the pain was helping? Surely, the sort of talk I would have to have
with a psychoanalyst in the years to come. Her right hand grabbed my left,
both hands now jerking me off.
"Come on my face. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it..."
It was like a capacity crowd chanting my name. A tear came out of my eye as
I slammed my teeth together and threw myself into it. The imminent future
suddenly crashed into the present and I began coming, groaning and
whimpering as with a final body heave forward sperm loosed itself. It
caught the bridge of her nose, and began running down her face. With as
much notice as I could muster given circumstances she'd released my ass and
was focused on milking me as much as possible. She licked her lips that
were beginning to get protein glossed, and even stuck the finger that'd
been--you know--in her mouth while she licked up the excess. Freak show!
Man, I hope I woke up with both kidneys.
Oh, who'm I kidding? I just came and couldn't've cared less. Usually, I
liked a modicum of control, but almost right away I had felt like I was just
a pawn in her game of human chess. Well, so be it. Somedays a pigeon and
others a statue.
"We...should move this into the bedroom." She stood before me, cum dripping
down her face and still fully clothed as far as I could see. I nodded
ascent. Then I realized...
"Second door on the left."
I proceeded to do my usual 4.8 40 in .2 seconds. Mainly because I forgot my
pants were still around my ankles, and bolting to run 'caused me to fall
down. Luckily despite not having the werewithal to avoid the pratfall I
turned to my side because if I landed on Black Thunder I never would've been
able to forgive myself.
She laughed behind me, and I stood up, grabbed my pants, and in true man
fashion marched to the bedroom as if nothing had happened.
= = = = = = = = = =
Hearing a giggle behind me, I situated on her very comfortable bed. I
pulled the Trojan out of my wallet, then ditched my pants. But what to do
with the cell phone? I had it in my hand, naked (first time for everything)
as I tried to figure out where to stow it. Turning it onto silent, my hand
was going to drop it on the pants on the floor and worry about it later.
That didn't happen.
She stood in the doorway smiling benignly at me, and I was suddenly
transfixed. Absentmindedly I settled the phone down on the dresser by the
headboard, while she ran a hand through her hair vamping it up.
"I hope you're ready for Round 2. You should see what I can do with my
clothes off." she purred. I could only chuckle and temporarily imagine.
STANDING IN HER DOORWAY, she smiled as her hands reached behind her back. A
smile was on my lips but this was to bring one to my eyes as well; she gave
a little shimmy with her hips and the tartan skirt dropped down to pool at
her feet.
White boy shorts with red lace on the fringes.
You could call me Pavlov's dog.
Subconsciously, I began palming my dick, but over the top rather than the
usual pump from underneath. I wanted to be excited but still able to hold
my end of the bargain. You know what I mean. Her low, throaty chuckle
filled up her room as she began swaying to music only she could hear. I
began doing the stripper beat as she reached up and put her dark hair over
her shoulders. Shit, even her ears were kind of hot. With the schoolgirl
skirt on the floor, the jersey was next.
With only three buttons left, this wasn't going to be a Seven Years In Tibet
epic. Give her ******, though; she knew how to prolong the hell out of the
three. The top one went first, revealing the scope of her cleavage. With a
pout and her index finger in her mouth, the bottom button quickly evaporated
to show off more of her toned abs. It was quite the shame I didn't possess
any telepathic powers, as by sheer force of will I was ready to pop that
damn middle button with a stare by this point in time. She made me wait
for it, and just when I was about ready to promise my kidney she shot her
right index finger up and popped it.
No bra.
She still held the jersey in her hands, and carried it just over her nipples
before I could see them. I began to bitch and moan before I began
refocusing on her eyes. I suddenly felt a cold wave go through my body that
stank of deja vu. Like I'd seen my dentist in the outside world but
couldn't quite place a connection...
"You all right?"
"...Yeaah. Yeah, I'm good, good." From awkward to faux smooth in 4.2
seconds!
She smiled at me, breathed out a "Good." and made her way over to the bed.
Her strides were long confident attention-getters that weren't boisterous
but managed to not put focus anywhere else in a fifty-yard radius.
Casually, she pushed me back onto the bed as she took her mouth and started
kissing up my body. Unsurprisingly, my cock had gotten used to the fit of
her right hand, as I was able to quit using my own and used it to stroke the
side of her face while we made out.
Quickly, I found her muscular thighs on the sides of my face. "You know
what's coming next?"
Stifling the "You" I debated about saying, I pushed her cunt open with a
couple of fingers to make room for my tongue as she lowered onto my face.
Immediately, I went to work. I took a long, slow swipe. She had a good
taste that wasn't really in my library of flavor and taste but the closest I
could give for an accurate description was a sort of hybrid
watermelon/caramel sort of deal. I'd eaten out far worse, so I began to lap
at her. Her thighs began grazing my ears as she pushed more of herself out
onto my face, moaning low and it vibrating off of the walls.
"That's a good boy," she groaned, her accent amplifying. "Time you drank
down something that wasn't a Corona..."
Slurping away, I flattened out my tongue and began to fuck away. The groans
got deeper and more gutteral as the hand she was grazing against my forehead
suddenly grabbed my hair.
"Yeah, that's it. Fuck my snatch with that tongue."
My hands went around to her hips, steadily influencing her to go on. I got
within groping distance of the asshole but didn't put anything in there. At
least not yet. I was going to wait until she least expected it and shove
something of my own in there, but that'd come later. I could feel a little
bit of sweat she'd built up over the night drip off of her and land on me,
spurring me on. I slipped my right hand over her pelvis until it was slowly
nudging and caressing her clit. It was slightly bigger than average, which
explained why she was so juicy. Taking a pause to come up for some air, I
began to finger fuck her with my middle finger on the left in her and the
right slowly stroking her clit.
Her eyes were nearly shut, and her hands were pawing at her chest. I've
always said if they let me put my full range of talents on a resume I'd be
CEO of somewhere or other by now.
"Fuck fuck FUCK! Oh, that's it, right there! Eat me up, you bastard!" She
was steadily rubbing her twat all over my face as I finger-fucked and
stroked her like a kitty. "Oh, shit! You're good! So good! I'm about to
cum! You better keep fucking me!"
Why the hell would I not want to? Even if so, where would I go? Sweat was
dripping off the thighs that were slowly squeezing my head, she still hung
onto my hair in the front, my hands were deeper in her than Donnie Brasco...
Suddenly, it occured to me. I went back to teasing her asshole, running
around the corners in circles. I leaned forward and for a coup de gras,
sucked her clit in my mouth.
"OH SHIT!"
If this was the movies, I would've been a little girl playing with a
three-legged puppy on a beach, oblivious to everyone else running to shore.
Because she unleashed a tidal wave of that caramel watermelon on me. I
lapped it up for a while, but she was turning "Fuck" into a nineteen
syllable word, so I jammed it in there like a plunger and attempted to suck
her dry.
After a few contented groans, I pulled my tongue out of her with an emphatic
noise. With a sigh of satisfaction, I rolled over onto my back. In her
post-orgasmic bliss something quickly captured my attention.
I stared up at her ceiling. There wasn't a mirror, but there was a various
array of some sort of sparkly things. As I started to dial down, I realized
it was a low-key but effective way of recreating a starry night. They were
in various clusters, but the ceiling was littered with them.
"Are you done?" she asked me.
"Not if you're not," I said honestly.
"That's what I like to hear," she said quietly, moving against me so that we
formed some sort of blasphemous cross. She kissed my stomach and played
with my nipple as I gave the "I can't believe I just tricked another
beautiful girl into having sex with me" smile. It's a shame I have all this
education and try to enculture myself but you put me around a cute girl and
I revert to every dumb cliche ever spawned. I have a good excuse, though:
I'm a guy.
She reached into the minifridge under her dresser, fishing around. "Hell.
Maybe I have some in the fridge," she said to no one in particular, then
looked back at me. Eventually I took my eyes off her ass.
"Any drink preferences?"
I thought it over and asked for a sports drink or an equivalent, and she
rolled off of me and went into the kitchen. I looked. Some things I'm just
not going to get over. As I sat there in post-coital bliss, it suddenly
occured to me I had just up and ditched Mindy, making me a Bad Friend. Not
only that, but with the charger back home my phone might've been on its
dying moments. I knew better than to brag to a girl about what had just
taken place--much as the urge to brag to anything cognizant was prattling
around in my head--but still, calling her and letting her know not to worry
about me for a bit was the right thing to do.
Reaching over to pick it up, I knocked the phone right into her dresser
drawer. "Smooth," I murmured to myself, sighing in disgust. With a shake
of my head, I reached into it to fish out my lifeline. Panties. More
panties. Something stubby--ah, the end of my antenna cord! (NOT a
metaphor.) As I felt it, my fingers also felt something cold.
This is why being an ex-journalism major gets me in trouble. When I
divulged my plan initially, my mother said it was a cheap excuse to get into
other people's business. That's not why I did it, although my brain process
was always trying to find the one true answer, making me the Mindy (go
figure) in the Animaniacs of life. Looking quickly into the kitchen and not
seeing her coming, I quickly pulled out the cold object for a look.
It wasn't a dildo. While dildos have the possibility of being gold, they
also aren't round. And very rarely are they bilingual in Greek and English.
Two words suddenly jolted me like a cattle prod: OLYMPICO 2004.
"Holy SHIT."
= = = = = = = = = =
There's this moment in the Olbermann/Patrick book where Keith mentions he
runs into David Letterman, who begins to gush over him and says "You're just
doing this to impress me". Keith then explains his feeling about being very
scared that's he's caught up far enough in some sort of race that a personal
hero would not only know who he was, but be pleased to meet him. I had the
same sort of wave pass my body. Did I actually just bump uglies with an
Olympic gold fucking medalist? Isn't there an amendment prohibiting that?
If there was a thing as a just and loving god, he wouldn't be letting this
shit go down, right?
"OK, I hope you like orange Gatorade. By orange, I mean normal, and by
Gatorade, I mean--" You know that moment right when you get busted before
you get yelled at? Welcome aboard, I'm the conductor on that train. The
other thing about a journalistic mind is it doesn't matter when you find out
the one true answer, as long as the answer is true. Suddenly, everything
aligned in my mind up and down like 6:00 to the point where I was surprised
it'd taken me so long to catch on. It explained her body, and the odd
feelings of familiarity I had seeing the U of A shot glass on the counter
and her quasi-pose before she entered the bedroom.
"You're Amanda Beard!" She sighed, rolled her eyes a little bit.
"I am. Now would you mind putting my gold medal down?"
"Oh, right." I quickly ditched it back into the drawer where it belonged.
And looked up at her. She looked pissed, yeah. But it wasn't all rage.
(Thank monkey for that, she could've killed me. Hell, she almost did in
the sex.) There was some confusion with it, and a little bit of scared.
"Wait, you didn't know?"
"Noooo." I thought of censoring myself, but then realized the things I was
thinking would make me look better. "I just knew you were a hot girl, I
didn't realize you were like, famous. I never would've had the cojones to
pull hitting on you if I'd known you were you, I just would've frozen up and
done my Jerry Lewis impersonation." She smiled a little at that, and sat
down on the bed.
Making sure I was still out of punching range, I pulled myself up to a
sitting position. "I went to call my friend on my phone to tell her not to
wait around for me. I knocked it in there when I went to grab it, felt
something, turned out to be a medal." She looked at me, opened the drawer,
and fished around. Her eyes opened a little bit, and then she pulled out my
phone. I nodded. "I'm a schlub, but an honest one."
She took a drink of the bottled water she'd brought. "I'm sorry, it's
just--ever since the photo shoot, guys've been trying to hook up with me
left and right. Starfuckers everywhere. I just assumed you were one and
just trying to play it low-key. That's my fault."
"Understandable." We sat there quietly a few ticks. "Besides, who the
hell's going to believe me? 'Yeah, a gold medalist took me to her place and
wore me OUT!'? You kidding me? If I wasn't me and I heard that coming from
my lips I'd laugh so hard something would rupture." We both had a small
laugh at that. "Life is strange."
"You know, it is," she said. "It really is." She gave me that imperfectly
perfect smile, and I felt good taking the other bottle of water and drinking
it down. "Well, now that we've had the awkwardness for the night done, you
want to go back to..." She gestured around the bed.
I stared at her. "I'm not going to lie to you, Amanda, now that I know who
you are, I really want to get after it again." She finished her water and
looked at me.
"You know, someday, you're going to have to start lying to girls if you want
to get anywhere in life."
My laughter bounced off the walls and the fake stars. "I know it, I know
it. But...until then..." I leaned forward and kissed her, suddenly
renewned with vitamins, minerals, and the looming prospect of having sex
with a famous woman. Again. Her tongue flickered in my mouth and I could
still taste a little bit of myself. I'd be lying if I said I didn't swell
up with pride a little bit at what I'd unknowingly accomplished. I
disengaged our mouths, and immediately began to go up against her neck with
the side of my face as I bit into her shoulder.
She began moaning immediately as I began kissing the valley of her cleavage,
licking up some stray sweat that was wandering there. Chuckling, she slowly
laid back onto her bed as I continued down her body. I began tugging and
playing with her bellybutton before I felt pressure being applied on the top
of my head.
Smirking to myself, I thought, she wants me back in there? So, I looked up.
"What're you doing?"
"Something I've been thinking about since I saw you, is all."
I turned her over, and began rubbing my dick over her pussy lips. I groaned
as she sighed. "I'm going to loosen this tight body up a little bit." She
laughed. How dare she.
"Big talk from a man who hasn't even gotten insid--" The cocky smirk was
quickly replaced by a bitten bottom lip as I threw in about half of my worth
just to shut her up. Olympics, shmolympics, I had a reputation to uphold
here. The oohing gave way to ohing as with a second thrust I was inside her
fully.
Amanda exclaimed, "Ooh! That feels nice!" as I began to slowly roll back
and forth.
"Yeah, the talk's not the only big thing I got, wiseass." I grabbed onto
her leg to give me some more leverage as I continued burrowing inside, my
face tightening with the effort I was exerting. She was really tight, and I
began to bite my own lip as I went about prolonging the magic. "Grab the
foot of the bed," I instructed as she looked back at me before putting her
arms against the woodgrain, grabbing onto the ends. I began to stroke her
nipples with my hands.
"Oh, fuck, that's it. Fondle my tits. Do it." My hands roamed across her
breasts, stroking, sometimes holding, but always in motion as I began to
quicken my pelvic pace watching her crazy body jerk back against mine.
"Fucking hell..." I spat out between breaths as I continued to do work.
"Faster...faster..."
I began to go quicker, and I leaned forward to find my sweat dripping off
onto her body. With an evil grin on my face, I began to tongue her ass
cheeks.
"Mmm..you're good at licking me clean!" She began thrusting back against
me. It didn't matter what I used to delay it, arrivals were going to mount
up in the next minute or two. I leaned forward and began tonguing her
asshole, my face buried in her starfish.
"Oh, holy fuck!"
"You play with my ass, I play with yours!" I grunted, practically feeling my
eyes cross as she began to reach down and play with her clit with a hand
still grasping and clawing at the headboard.
"Fuck it! Take it!"
"Yeah, you take it, you little Olympic slut!"
"Oh, God, I'm going to come! Keep fingering my ass! Don't stop! Mmmm oh
fuck!"
My balls continued to emphatically slam against her thighs and cheeks as her
breasts jiggled, shoulder-length hair in fallout all around her as she went
against my body, I watched as I drove myself into her. She was so close,
but how was I to keep her coming first?
I suddenly remembered an episode of Scrubs and bit her ass.
"Ow!"
Fuck, that didn't work. "Do it again." Hell, maybe it did. I bit again,
sinking my teeth in her as we continued fucking.
"Is it sore? Should I make it all better?"
"Oh, fuck, you bastard, here it is!"
I watched the flow over me as I began to slow down, lightly stroking her
clit as she screamed out in joy, before letting go of the headboard and
getting on her knees.
Quickly, my balls were in her mouth and her hands were on my cock.
"Yeah, you're gonna fucking come now, aren't you? Come all over my slutty
face, put that big dick in my mouth." I tried everything I could do, but
with both her hands on me, and her face rubbing against me.
"I bet you came all over me in FHM and wanted to do this, didn't you? I bet
I had you coming three, four times a day, you pervert. Mmm...." She
slurped as her mouth came off of my mouth. "Do it. C'mon, you--"
I grabbed her by the hair, and set myself up.
"Shut....up! FUCK!" Right as I re-entered her mouth, I began producing a
couple days worth right down her smiling face as her hand still stroked my
testicles, emptying a second payload for the evening. We both flopped
against the bed, moaning contendtedly.
"Nothing romantic about that," she said, and laughed. But by then, the
smile was on my face and the dream world was calling. Her pillows were so
soft and big.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I guess I'll go count the sheep...
= = = = = = = = = =
COMING OUT OF THE DARKNESS, I groaned and rolled over until my feet were
touching floor. Without an alarm to provoke me into action, I tended to
find putting my feet on the floor made me want to get up to start walking,
whereas if I stayed in bed I'd tend to go back. Feet led me into the
bathroom, where I proceeded to empty my cache and start up the shower.
Yawning, I pushed the door back into place while I reached for my towel set.
It suddenly occured to me my shower had no door, it had drapes.
So I wasn't in my bathroom...which meant I hadn't rolled out of my
bed...which meant...
Some things are always going to put a smile on my face, and hooking up's one
of them. With another stretch and yawn, I stepped into the shower. Feeling
pretty confident after last night, I made sure to take my time while I did
my usual American Idol audition (today's selections: the "Best Of Me" remix,
"Take Me To The River", and a rousing "Once In A Lifetime"). It took me a
bit of time to realize while some dreams come true, others die deferred.
Nevertheless, I stepped out and toweled off, making sure to use her
hairdryer to blow out my miniFro.
It was oddly quiet in the house, but I could hear a low hum somewhere. I
re-entered the bedroom, slowly finding my clothes and picking them off the
floor. Maybe it was from Amanda. I hadn't heard or seen her since I'd
pulled out hours ago.
Hell, if last night was such a virtual dream--she was probably in the
kitchen cooking breakfast! Hash browns, bacon, flapjacks the size of Leno's
head, some orange juice...
...fully reinvigorated by the idea of rebuilding my sapped energy I bounded
towards the kitchen, zipping up my pants along the way.
"Guh-ee-OD, I am hungr--"
So, she was laying on the couch. One foot at the foot of the couch, the
rest of her spread out across the black leather. One of her hands ran
through her hair, and she looked up at me and floored with a brilliant
smile. That and the nudity. Mostly the latter; I think I proceeded to let
out an eight-syllable word that had no vowels.
She let out a throaty chuckle and decided to speak. "Well, I assumed you
wanted breakfast. But I was too tired to really make anything." Her
eyebrow raised. "I did grab a banana for you." That grin playing upon her
face as my mind almost seized its way into a coma... "...I really wish I
could remember where the hell I put it, though..."
Maybe later on in life, when I was older and banned from every grocery store
for having an erection around the produce section, would come an instance of
regret. But that was the future. Right now, it was time for me to eat at
the Y.
On my knees I fell before her, nuzzling the side of her pussy with my face
like a puppy against it's favorite member of the family. I tugged at her
lips with my teeth but that was all the teasing I felt like doing at this
juncture. It was like leaving something out to cool for a bit after it got
out of the oven; you try to cut into it right away, stuff s***** and it
loses some of the flavor in your insistence. Wait five minutes, and it's
the pinnacle of fine eating.
"Mmm-mmm, that's it."
To wit.
I knew from the moment I tasted this it was going down on the High Fidelity
short list of foods I would always remember as being instantly thrown into
nirvana upon the first consumption. Lobster was going to have to be dropped
from the top.
There was something about her essence and the banana I was slowly drawing
out with my teeth by degrees that was really something to behold. It was
taking every effort to not just go in and barrel through the whole thing in
45 seconds; I practically wanted to bathe in the stuff. I knew what the
next step once I'd finished her off was, and at that point I was planning to
let forth a constant stream of profanity that would've made even the ACLU
not take my side. But instead, I gripped her ass with my hands and listened
to her go.
"Yeah, you eat that delicious pussy all up. I bet you've never had it this
good, have you?"
Pulling away for a little breath break, I merely smiled and let my tongue
wander across the corner of my bottom lip before I went back in and
proceeded to tongue N and O repeatedly on her love button. Let it not be
said I'm the sort of person what dodges questions. I could feel her getting
close to something, so I retreated back down south and went back to
breakfast. My head bobbed back and forth as some more of her cum dribbled
out with every bite, already saturating the fruit and leaving my face a
delightful mess.
"You like your breakfast? There's still some more for you if you're a good
boy." Her hips rose up and I leaned forward to keep my balance, face still
deeper in her than Michael in pesky allegations. I could feel my jaw
stretching to maximum capacity as I continued to have my banana and drink
her too, getting a brief view of the city as she reangled her body so she
hung off the couch partially.
"Eat my pussy! Eat it right there!" Hitting a cluster of nerve endings, I
smacked it around with my tongue from a few different angles. "Oh, fucking
shit! I'm going to...going...I'm about...cum!"
Another wave rippled against my face, and I decided to inhale as much as I
could. This time, I didn't swallow and hung onto it. I pulled away from
her as she lazily stroked her lips, sighing contendtedly. Her eyes were
closed and I opened my mouth slowly, her cum dripping in tears from my mouth
onto her face. Gasping in surprise opened her mouth and she moaned as the
drizzle went into her mouth. Continuing my long-distance snowball, I gave
her wet pussy a slap before I impatiently shoved my way in.
"Oh! You dirty bastard! Shove that dick in my wet pussy!"
I spit more cum on her face and began to kick into overdrive. Between the
heat of the situation, the likelihood of it happening again, and the dirty
talk I suspected me holding off was but a candle in the wind.
"I'm not the one with her head upside down trying to win all the medals at
the Slut Olympics!" the apprentice devil on my shoulder yelled, the words
somehow in synch with what I was saying. "You're going to take it all and
it's going to be the fucking highlight of your life!"
All the while, my balls were merrily slapping against her ass as she pawed
at her chest, drawing some of my spit/her orgasm and sucking it off her
fingers. I took this opportunity to tune in Tokyo for the boys overseas and
continued to bang the shit out of her.
Her cry of "Fuck me!" was shrill and insistent, like a police alarm one
would actually want to listen to. I could hear her groan and curse but I
had planned one last master stroke. It was at this point my right hand
slowly withdrew from her mouth and slipped down her body.
I groped, and then my middle finger was right in her ass.
"Hol-y FUCK!" she yelled out, her hands shooting out to the couch. She
began to lean over but I tipped us back the way we were supposed to go.
"Ohhhh, that feels good!" I merely smiled and continued the yeoman duty as I
could feel her approach the inevitable final stop on the O train. "Oh, my
God! Oh, my God!"
"How's that cock feel!"
"Oh, yeah, it--oh, GOD, right there, right there! I'm going to..."
Slowly I pulled out of her. "What? No!"
"You're not doing anything until I do something."
In case you were wondering, this is where the angel was supposed to show up.
Sadly, another apprentice devil bitchslapped that pious fucker and sent
him packing.
"What's thaHOLY FUCKING CHRIST!"
In the immortal words of student of the human spirit and noted sociologist
Bob Ritchie, yeah, this dick's going right in your ass. For the coup
d'gras, I leaned over and sucked her clit into my mouth, trying to ignore
the parts of her that tasted like they had been parts of me in the recent
past and honing in on the banana portions. She kept yelling "FUCK!" and
"SUCK!" and some other things that started off words but dissolved into
screams of joy and deep moans. I swore I wasn't going to until she did. I
swore. When I swore on it a third time, she went off. She stretched out
the word "Yeah!" until it would've left Howard Dean and Lil' Jon speechless.
After that stirring display, there was only one thing left to say.
"I'm gonna nut!"
"Not in my ass!" she pleaded, and given her occupation that made sense.
"Put it in my mouth!"
I pulled out, leaving her gasping momentarily before I filled that void. My
head fell forward, and she stroked my balls insistently as I sent off
another protein smoothie down her throat. After about a minute or so, she
had sucked me dry. She swallowed it down as she let me go, and I hit the
floor. We didn't say much for a bit after that; the same room that'd heard
us reenact 9½ Weeks was filled with nothing but quiet contentment and the
occassional gasp for air.
"THAT..." I said, vying for a mention in the Understatement of the Year
award. "...was intense."
My head rolled around to look at her. It was like I had Rubik's Cubed the
situation when I came in: her head was were her feet had been, her pelvis
hanging over the lid of the couch at an angle as she looked down on me and
out at the skyline.
"Baby, you ain't lyin'." With that, she gave a little chuckle as I tried to
focus on something else, anything else in the room.
The wall clock displaying 11:28 would do nicely.
Wait a tick, 11:28!? Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck...
"Amanda, this is going to sound redundant. But do you think I can get
another ride from you?"
= = = = = = = = = =
We were on our way to Union Station, Steve Miller blaring in our ears. She
was laughing. It was a superlative laugh.
"You mean to tell me I hooked up with a guy who can't even SWIM?!"
I shrugged. Amanda shook her head as she turned the corner.
"Well, you know what they say about us guys who can't swim..."
She turned down the radio and turned into the parking lot at the Union.
"There's a thing they say about guys who can't swim?"
"No."
The car pulled up to a halt. "Well, if they're all like you, they fuck like
the devil." She gave me a light kiss on the mouth, which deepened after a
few seconds. We separated. "Do you have everything?"
I did a mental review. "Yeah, I'm set."
"You're calling, right?"
"You're coming to my New Year's party, yeah?" She smiled. "Maybe. If
you're good."
"What if I'm naughty?" I said, affecting a schoolgirl pout.
"Then it's a da--deal."
"Cool." I checked my watch, still 10 minutes. "I better book."
"All right. See you soon."
"Yeah. Or call you sooner. Or something pithy and wise you heard someone
else say."
"Like 'smell you later'?"
I nodded. She pulled away, and I turned into the station. See, that had
went well. But there was still this niggling idea in the back of my mind
I'd forgotten something or other. Suddenly, I began hearing "She Wants To
Move" by N.E.R.D.
Looking down, I could see my iPod still in hand and still off. Reaching
into my jacket pocket, I pulled out the cell.
"Mindy?"
"PLEASE tell me you're at the bus station, your train is like--"
"I'm here, I'm here. Settle down, Mother." I laughed, handing my ticket
over to the agent and heading to the line taking me to the train home. "So
what's what?"
"Oh, no, you don't, that's what I say to you!" she laughed.
"Nothing major. Going home. Sorry I didn't kick it with you more, but..."
"That number at the club last night, yeah, yeah. You hook up?"
"MINDY! A gentlemen never tells such things."
There was silence.
"I realize this isn't a video phone, but can you hear me rolling my eyes?"
As I entered the train and found myself a seat, I had to laugh. "C'mon, I
know it happened already because you didn't call me and get your change of
clothes out my car."
My face crumpled in on itself. I knew I'd forgotten something along the
way, and there you go. "So fucking mail it to me. Anyway, things went all
right, obviously. What about you?"
"Me? Things went all ri--"
"Hey. You want some pancakes?" That was odd, a distinct Boston accent.
"I'll be in in a minute!" Mindy called.
"Well, we better go out, 'cause we used all the syrup." The laugh set me
off. The voice was female. And familiar.
Will the mystery guest known as Eliza Dushku please sign in?
"Mindy."
"Hm?"
"What. THE. FUCK."
"It's a long story. I gotta go, she's doing something with the spatula."
"Mindy, don't you--"
Beep. Gone.
Mindy had fucked Eliza. How? Did Eliza know I knew Mindy or was she just
out to get it on last night? Did Mindy get her to try and get me into an
epic threeway more suited to snoring on pillows? I mean, I could've tortured
myself until the judgment day about that. But suddenly, I heard a lyric
from Metallica that put everything into perspective right as I remembered
the celebrity I'd sampled not hours ago:
Fuck it all and no regrets.
Jamesy had a point.
Besides, I'd get the story from Mindy in good time. And I'd call Amanda
before that.
"It's just masturbation, where's the harm in it? Where's the harm in it, I
ask you? *I* masturbate! I masturbate like I think if I keep doing it, I'm
gonna win something. That's the way I do it. One shot, one kill. There
can be only one Highlander."
--Dave Attell