A story of candy, but with an eye rather than a why.

Saturday, 20 June, Year 12 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

"Oh wow! Just.... just wow. This is your place ?"
"Ummm... yeah."
"This is where you live."
"Yeah, I live here."
"No tricks, no bullshit, no company-provided, no lease, no friend left for two weeks in Vegas and I'm watering his pets in the meanwhile, straight up, this is your place."
"I feel like I'm on stand... Do you want to see the title or something ?"
"No, but... would it be okay if I took a shower ? Maybe it washes poverty off of me or something."
"Sure. It's..."
"That way ?"
"Sure, that works. Come by the pool when you're done, I'll fix you a drink."
"Which is... that way ?"
"I'll be right there in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

~ * ~

The slender mulatto girl is standing by the sliding doors, water dripping sparklingly off her hair, off her fingertips, off her left elbow and even, occasionally, off her breasts. She's holding a large towel at some distance from herself, as if suspicious of its dubious services, but otherwise towers stark naked, freshly shaved, faintly perfumed, glistening in the hues of late adolescence (or "young adulthood" as they call it in those parts). The pasty-ass whiteboy is standing by the bar across the shapely pool in indistinct trunks, his mouth agape. For a while they face off thus, the water between them. She's calm, not exactly at ease but rather purring softly in neutral, awaiting orders. There's a storm brewing in him, slowly but definitely, until eventually it hits pitch and comes out of his mouth -- like he were a teapot brewing the usual teapot storm, to culminate in the aforeknown whistle.

"Oh my god! Melissa!"
"Please don't call me that."
"What should I call you ?"
"Call me anything you want. I'd like you to pick a name for me."
"A name for you ?!"
"Yes, like when you get a new pet. People when they get pets don't ask what its name was, most of the time. They just come up with one."
"You... you..."
"I want you to name me."
"But... uhhh... I mean... what do you mean ?!"
"I mean I want to live here. I'll leave if you tell me to, of course ; but if you don't, I'll do whatever you want me to."
"You mean... you... I..."
"Yes, of course" her speech slows down by degrees, and the spaces between words grow as she's putting steps down towards him. "you can fuck me. Any time you want. Whichever way you want. I'll be your private piece of fuckmeat while you let me live here." Finally, two feet apart, she faces him for a long, honey-dripping moment and then seats herself on the recliner nearby, knees far apart. "Would you like to sample the goods ?"

He jumps on her, manically, trunks still attached. She peels them off for him as he grinds into her, confused penis half erect probing at her abdomen, generally between right hipbone and lower right rib, sliding towards bellybutton occasionally. She grabs the base, cupping his balls, which eases his blind fury somewhat ; then she slides further out, flat on her back, and alligns penis on slit. He finds his way in her now, and proceeds to pounding furiously, abstractly. She folds her knees and lifts them by degrees, cushioning him, letting him have his way with her. He spends within minutes, and collapses on her, panting. She holds him tight between her knees for a while, as he catches his breath. Then she rolls him over, and proceeds to slowly, very methodically grind him down, very carefull not to lose the flaccid penis inside her. Short, slow movements up and down, up and down, up and down. She's in great shape, all those years of track and swim team back in highschool do pay off.

She dangles her breasts in his face as she's working him, regularly, dedicatedly. She looks into his eyes on the downstroke, she plays with his hair... eventually she whispers in his ear, words, words apart, word after word. "So" she says, breathlessly, "what's" she whispers, toridly, "the verdict" and she glints her eyes at him "can I" and she puts out her tongue, narrowed like a snake, licking him from chin to temple on the upstroke "can I" she whispers throatily, "can I" and she rolls her eyes in her head, as she feels her own orgasm welling up inside her, stirred by her clit ground into his hair, and his penis coming back to life inside her secret folds, and so many things and everything else, "stay" she whispers, as her breath cuts, "do you" as she's going faster "do you" she silently screams, ragged voice exhausting under her, "do you" and then fast, frantic "take me", at a feverish pitch and moving three strokes a second "in", she glances at him, "massah".

"Please don't call me that."
"What... what... what... should... I... call... you..."
"You could... ummm... could you call me boss maybe ?"
"Yessss... boss... yes... you're... the... boss... may... may.... I... cum... boss."
"Oh yes!"
"Ohh yessss.... yeah... oh yeah... boss... thank you... boss... yeah... yeah... oh yeah!"

She collapses on his chest, panting, lost, water coming off of her in rivulets and great steam geysers every which way, liquids similar to water at any rate, salty, flavoured, flowing freely out of her and over his shoulders, and arms, and ribcage and pubis and ballsac and everywhere else in contact. She's a fluid springwell and they're drenched together -- drenched in all and everything excepting his little spoonfull of milky contribution. That's been carefully coagulated deep inside her, stored there, held in by ten thousand interlocking folds and fibers. It ain't never coming back.

"Are you... are you..."
"Yes, I'm on the pill."
"I'm healthy. Are you ?"
"Remember boss -- anytime you want. Whatever way you want, whichever way you want. I'm yours."
"Th... th... thank you."
"No matter."

They lay there, functionally two-backed beast collapsed upon itself, for the longest time. At first they pant, then later they just breathe normally, but they do not say anything. Eventually he topples her, to her side, and kisses her, looks into her eyes and kisses her, but he still doesn't say anything. She looks right back, and kisses right back, but doesn't say anything either. Eventually his penis, much reduced, slides out or rather is secreted out of her vagina -- her flow unyieldingly abundant, still ongoing, blind to their exhaustion. She's leaking cuntjuice like a punctured hose, no likely cessation in sight.

Eventually the voice of practicality, and practical concern speaks out through him. "So do you want me to drive you back to campus, pick your stuff up ?"
"What do you mean no ?!"
"I'm never going back there. I don't want any of that stuff."
"But... I mean... it's your stuff!"
"It was. Now I don't want it anymore."
"The craziest thing you ever heard ?"
"I'm not crazy, boss. I just don't want some stuff anymore." she pauses for a second, furrows her brow prettily "it wasn't that good anyway."
"But... what about your grades ?"
"I don't care."
"You're not going to finish ?"
"I'll do whatever you tell me to. But otherwise... no."
"What was your major, anyway ?"
"Some bullshit."
"Why did you pick it, then ?"
"I didn't fucking pick it, you just have to pick something. Did you pick the president ?"
"No... but I did finish my degree..."
"So bully for you. Boss."
"What are you going to do without a degree ?"
"Exactly what you tell me to. With or without."
"But I mean..."
"Look, you want me to get back there, just say so. I will. You want me to finish that or any other degree, just say so. I'll do it or die trying, dealer's choice. Pick whatever it is and tell me."
"Do I have to pay for it ?"
"You don't have to anything. If you say 'go get a degree in Nuclear Physics and pay for it streetwalking' I'll be strutting the sidewalk every night and paying attention in class every day until it's done. Whatever you say goes, from now on, I'm your thing and you tell me."
"I... I..."
"Your thing."
"But... you're a person, aren't you ?"
"Whatever that is."
"But what do you mean, you've got your rights, don't you ?"
"What the hell, no."
"I told you -- I don't want any of that stuff."
"But what about feminism ? What about all the gains made in the past..."
"You're not a feminist ?"
"I'm a woman."

The immensity, the absurdity of the situation finally strikes him, like a large piled-up helping of brick, and he breaks into laughter. Then he sings to her, somewhat out of tune, "Girl... you'll be a woman... soon..."
"Really ? When did that happen ?"
"When did what happen, boss ?"
"When did you figure out you're a woman."
"I think earlier, in the shower."
"So you were there on a date, asked to take a shower, and as you grabbed the soap it suddenly struck you... I'ma latch on to this guy."
"No, actually, it was the razor."
"The razor ?"
"I liked you, okay ?"
"Not anymore ?"
"It's different, now. I don't think of such things, you're the boss."
"Go on."
"I wanted to make a good impression. It came to me, you know, he said pool, I didn't bring anything, what do I do ? I don't like being one of those, you know. So I said to myself... you gotta do it, you show up there commando. No bathing suit, no nothing. But then... well, you have to shave, you know. And besides, I wanted you to be able to see it. Clearly. I wanted to be real naked, you know, for real. So I go for my shaver, but of course it's not there -- this isn't our bathroom it's yours."
"So what did you do ?"
"I... I used yours."
"You used... mine."
"You mean you put my shaver with which I shave my face on your filthy disgusting skankhole ?"
"I... I mean... sorry."
"Well what do I do now ?!"

For a moment they face each other, or rather, his fake indignancy she has no way to decipher squares off with her fake repentancy he has no way to decipher. Eventually she breaks the silence
"You could... you know, you could kiss it better."
"What a genius idea! I think I will!"

So he bends over her and he kisses her smooth, silky pubis letting out a "mmmm". Then he moves further, by degrees, lapping at her ever-yielding font. She moves her hips for him, to ease access, and in the process rests her lips half inch from his tried manhood. She just lays there a moment, trying to enjoy his brusque, alarmingly probing ministrations, watching his tool bobbing slightly with it. Eventually she blows, and the cock winces all by itself, and the balls swirl somehow strangely, like a frog or some slithery thing lives in there. She gives the spot a quick flick of the tongue, and they move again, grinding silently the other way. She engulfs his cock in one movement, swallowing it down as far as it goes, then proceeds to hum... "Grrrrlll... shlll bwwffttt a hhrrrmmmmnnnn ghhhhnnnnn..." His whole body sparks with electric charge, and he starts pounding at her again, automatically. It nearly chokes her, but she grabs his ass with both hands and doesn't let go, as her eyes bulge and tear up, as her whole body coils in respiratory panic, she digs her nails into his flesh and holds that piece of meat in place for dear life, as she feels her head growing airy and her stomach convulsing. She feels like she's imminently passing out, but she does not yield a hair, and the next beat there's a huge explosion, sending his cock out of her mouth and a fair helping of fresh, yellow-green vomit to follow.

He turns back towards her with a "what the ?!" and he confronts the sight of something like potato salad stranded, spitwrecked among his pubic hairs. The sight makes him convulse once, and paints his face in that peculiar quizzical, bemused look people get when they're about to. He manages to hold it down, and tries to stand up, but then, one knee on the recliner the smell catches up with him. That peculiar aroma of fresh vomit, oozing another's digestive juices, so similar and yet so wrong. He flails, grabs hold of her throat for some reason, and loses it. From above, from his perch atop of her, it's coming. It's coming for her, on trails of gravity, and it's coming with a vengeance.

She closes her eyes tightly, but she opens her mouth. She opens wide, and soon enough receives a sizable helping of whatever had been his dinner. She doesn't know. It makes her convulse again, but unproductively, and when at length she dares open her eyes she perceives him, still atop her, eyes wide with panic.

"Ihhh wlowly" she manages, from underneath the unlikely burden of a mouthful of foreign substance she doesn't know what to do with. Should she swallow it ? Should she spit it out ?
"Spit that out! You damn psycho!"
"Sorry boss."
"What the fuck are you doing ?!"
"I... I... I was giving you a blowjob."
"Right ?"
"But then you started hammering my throat, and I... I didn't want to let go."
"So you took it 'till you puked ?"
"I... I think so. I think I passed out."
"And then ?"
"Well I mean, you were above me and I... I... I didn't know what to do."
"What the hell do you mean, you didn't know what to do ?"
"How do I know ? It's yours. Maybe it's for me. Maybe you want me to eat it."
"And if I do, you would."
"I would."
"Fuckin' psycho. Like right now, if I say lap all of this up, you will."
"I will."
"Alright, go ahead. Lap it all up like a cheap whore." He looks at her, as if to say he has no idea where that came from. She looks at him as if to say that she's got her suspicions. He continues, dissatisfied with his expression heretofore, feeling like he could do much better "lap it up, bitch, lap it up like dogs do. Come on, be my dog bitch, my lap dog bitch" he ejaculates, suddenly quite pleased with his masterful turns of phrase.

She switches weight on her knees under his oral onslaught, and bends her face down towards the revolting heaps upon the recliner. With every fiber at their disposal her innards revulse and attempt revolt, but their speechless mutiny is powerless against her. The slender mulatto girl bends her face lower and lower, her tongue comes out, and then flicks at the indistinct, fragrant mess. He's watching her, mesmerized. Her flick turns to a lap, and then more and more come, finding a rythm. Presently she's finished one pile and moving on to the next when his voice rings, calmly, "Let's go take a shower." She looks at him, her chin a little green, and then regains to her feet.

As they enter the spacious shower room, for it's anything but a cabin, it could readily accomodate a half dozen glamour models inside its Italian marbled belly, she faces him for a moment, then sinks to her knees. He looks down on her, as she lifts her face towards him.

"Pee on me, boss."
"What ?"
"Please pee on me."
"Why ?!"
"I closed my eyes."
"What ?"
"Earlier, when I saw you were about to... on me. I... I closed my eyes."
"So ? Good for you that you did!"
"Yeah, but... please. I want you to pee on my face. In my eyes. Please."
"What the..."
"On my face, please. I need to learn my lesson, please pee in my eyes. They're wide open, look! Please!"

He gets the quizzical look again, but a thin stream of urine also proceeds, somewhat unsurprisingly. It's been a while, after all. His excretion is nuclear orange, well scented, he winces as he delivers it through his throbbing, well exhausted penis. She positions herself to receive it. The stream hits her left eye and she winces, paninfully, then she curls into a ball, blinking excitedly. She lets out a low groan, but presently she's straightened herself up again, and she's pushing the left eye back into the stream. She blinks less, she winces less, she sucks some in her mouth and gargles it, then takes some time trying to aspirate it through her nostrils. She chokes and coughs, but perseveres, her hair and body drenched in his orange offering. She gets herself in the other eye, and the mouth again, and keeps at it, soaking herself in in thoroughly, every which way. He's watching her, mindblown, from high up, above, from atop the lofty perch a standing position affords in the affairs of mankind. Eventually he lifts one foot and uses it to slowly push her face down to the floor. She kisses it all the while, obediently moving with it, until her left cheek rests on the marble. They share this arrangement for a while, and then he reaches down, grabs her and pulls her back up to standing.

"I want you to wash me. You know, like one of those bath slaves like they had."
"Yes, boss," she whispers, and she proceeds to lather the soap.
"And tell me again, about being a woman."
"I don't know what to say about it."
"Earlier, with the shaver..."
"Sorry about it."
"Go on."
"I used your shaver on my filthy disgusting skankhole... and... as I was doing it I realised I don't care about my own shaver. I thought I needed it, see ? But as it turns out... I didn't. I didn't need it. I don't really need it, and what's more, when it came to it... it wasn't even there for me."
"Your own shaver ?"
"How could it be there for you, if it's at your dorm room ?"
"It couldn't. Which is the point, I suppose -- I didn't need it there, I needed it here. I shaved a thousand times and nobody saw it, I've had enough of that. Then the one time I really cared how it looks -- nothing. What is it for, then ? What is it all for ?!"
"So it came to me, as I was shaving -- I don't want any of that. It's no use. It doesn't help me, it's not there to help me, it's just there to give me something to do. I ain't got the time to drive over there to pick shit to bring back here so I have shit that needs to be driven for and with. I'll do something else with my life."
"What ?"
"I'll wash you like one of those bath slaves."
"How am I doing, by the way ?"
"I don't know, I've never had a slave bath." he offered, pensively. "I don't think they've been doing that for thousands of years."
"Fucking razors taking the fuck over, nobody's doing anything for all the babying items they're stuck with. Burn the whole lot down."
"I'm not even kidding, I want you to burn the clothes I came in with. Or throw them away, plastic shit, it's probably a smoke hazard if you even try to burn it."
"So you'll just be naked ?"
"Your whole life, completely nude ?"
"Why not ?"
"What if someone comes ?"
"If you want me to come out I'll come out, and if you want me to stay in I'll stay in."
"What if my mother and father come over ?"
"You can introduce me, say mom and dad, this is my new pet. What do you think ?"
"And you'll just stand there naked, and smile."
"Unless you want me to kneel or something."
"You're completely nuts."
"Is it that bad ?"
"I've never heard of anything like that. Ever."
"Look, you want me to wear something, I'll wear it, whatever it is."
"But otherwise, you'll just go around like you are, and let the chips fall where they may."
"I think this is exactly what a slut is."
"What if the pool guy shows up ?"
"What ?"
"Well, what will you do ?"
"I don't know, whatever it is I was doing."
"What if they jump you ?"
"I'll look at you, see what you want me to do."
"And if I'm not there ?"
"Fight them off, I guess. You want me to fight them off if they jump me, or fuck them ?"
"I don't want you to fuck the pool guy!"
"Alright, so then I won't."
"What if I bring home a date ?"
"You mean, like you brought me earlier ?"
"I don't know... you want me to jump them or fight them off ? This is becoming complicated..."
"Holy moly yes what the fuck."
"I'll fuck her if you want me to."
"What if she doesn't want you to ?"
"Da fuck I care what some skank wants or doesn't."
"So uh... I mean, if they came to arrest me, you'd shoot the cop."
"I don't know, I've never thought about it. You want me to shoot the cop, I'll shoot the cop."
"This is the craziest shit I ever heard."
"Have you come up with a name for me yet, by the way ?"
"You really don't want to be Melissa anymore ?"
"No, please boss. Don't make me be that, it's played out. Let me have a new life."
"How about... ugh. This'll take some thinking."
"Okay, but please don't take too long. Otherwise some accident will take over, and I'd much rather you name me deliberately."
"I think I'm done washing you, unless you want me to do it over ?"
"I want you to kiss my ass" he said, and the next moment he could feel her warm lips unpuckering his asshole slightly, her tongue flicking about like a teen's practicing French kissing. He exhales and turns around.

"Ok Candi, that's enough."
"Is that my name ?"
"Yes, I hope it's adequately degrading. You'll spell it with an i not a y."
"Yes boss. Thank you boss. Thank you so much."
"Alright, let's go buy you some clothes, then."
"May I shower myself, first ?"
"Go right ahead."
"And may I clean the... well, you know, the remnants ? By the pool. Before it dries out."
"Ah, that's a good idea."
"I'll shower after. May I use cleaning products ?"
"As opposed to what ?"
"I don't know, my fucking face ?"
"Uh, yes, please."
"Where are they ?"
"What ?"
"The. Cleanning. Products."
"Oh, oh. Door under the stairway, see in there."

For the second time that evening a dripping wet, thoroughly nude girl is walking towards the pool, this time holding a bunch of various paraphenalia. He isn't there, now, anymore. He's following behind, holding a drink, watching her square off with their discarded juices. He's evidently enjoying the show, and she evidently doesn't mind stopping mid way to suck him off. She doesn't even stand for it, just crawls over and starts bobbing her head this way rather than that, working her tongue and lips instead of palms and fingers. She sucks him steadily, hands on her hips, bobbing back and forth until he's done. She swallows the mess and then opens her mouth, tongue out, showing him like he were the pill nurse in a psychiatric ward. Then as she's rubbing the head of his deflating meat on her face, squeezing the last strands of semen out she smiles sweetly and offers "If you want to spit on me or anything, now's the time, I'm going into the shower anyway." He resists the childish urge to pour his drink on her head for a blink and then she's gone, quick on her feet.

~ * ~

A man dressed in cargo shorts, a stupid tshirt, tube socks and sneakers and a woman dressed in nothing at all emerge from a parked jeep in front of the only store in the only strip mall within twenty miles where such an attempt might pass without a citation. On the other side there's a large strip club, humongous parking lot and four lane accessway ; but on this side, at the back of it as it were, there's a small parking lot surrounded by a bunch of related shops, selling stripper Pleasers, fetish gear, dildos, inflatable dolls, plastic fuckholes etcetera. There's nobody else in sight ; she tiptoes past the door he opened for her, making a bell chime in the process. He disappears after her. Presently the parking lot returns to its previous desertment under the tolerant rays of the desert's setting Sun, and whether the clerk raised an eyebrow or asked permission for taking pictures I guess we'll never know.

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
Comments feed : RSS 2.0. Leave your own comment below, or send a trackback.

13 Responses

  1. Do you have any idea what Mr. Aloof does for a living?

    Meanwhile, how'd these two manage no blood?

  2. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Monday, 22 June 2020

    I expect he's some kind of "IT expert". Maybe a "data scientist" for a small financial services firm (you know, the sort that have a dozen employees and fifty billion under management, that Hilary loved so much).

    And as to the other point, I mostly credit the safety-oriented pool-making philosophy. Had they happened to run into each other in the kitchen it'd have played out quite otherwise ; but as it is... they didn't have any sharp objects in easy reach. At least, that's my guess.

  3. @pletzalcoatl Does? What is that? I think this "to do" verb is entirely obsolete and also unfair. Pretends is way better, look: what Mr. Aloof pretends for a living? Anything!

    @Mircea Popescu It still reads like she tells him what to do anyway and all the way so dunno, sounds to me like having the worst of both roles there.

  4. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Monday, 22 June 2020

    Kinda what the wife is, a slave for all the drawbacks but with none of the benefits.

    Then again, historically, from the blue lagoon to the present day, it's always been... the ewe doing the job.

  1. [...] then shut the fuck up and do the right thing, what the fuck already. [↩] Category: Zsilnic Comments feed : RSS 2.0. Leave your own comment below, or send a [...]

  2. [...] tend to have big mouths (and correspondingly over-represented chins), though rarely the big ass to cash it with. [↩]Actually it is probably the only actually influential item on this sorry list ; [...]

  3. [...] process, not merely natural but equally deliberate) it could denote the future whores, as only respectable form of womanhood, counterdistinct from pantsuitards & the spwarling rest of the failures. [↩]Also known [...]

  4. [...] thus "upwardly mobile" pleb disappears for seven yearsiv, then inexplicably returns to lick the same vomit streaks he had left behind, in this case personified in a tavern wench seven years off the market. Don't [...]

  5. [...] sparkling and happy, on the inside of her left thigh, just like the sparkles on the outsides of her eyes, or maybe not at all. Are eyes the windows of the soul, perhaps ? Or are the souls these days left [...]

  6. [...] is a candid, by the way. Completely unposed, and by the way, let me in passing mention : if your candi dun look this way after a spirited bout of anal, you... you... well, I guess you gotta buy her a [...]

  7. [...] of her left thigh, just like the sparkles on the outsides of her eyes, or maybe not at all. Are eyes the windows of the soul, perhaps ? Or are the souls these days left behind unfinished, standing [...]

  8. [...] also there's giggles filtering through from yet another clutch and pool splashing and oh, I fed Burt Plantcaster yesterday, let's check on [...]

  9. [...] you'll be lonely, sad and fat." "What would you have me do ? Face on the floor, bare ass up to the winds just because he said hello ? Like a moth or some such type of primitive life [...]

Add your cents! »
    If this is your first comment, it will wait to be approved. This usually takes a few hours. Subsequent comments are not delayed.