Thirsty and hungry

The Bandit rubbed his eyes and put down the book, tucking his pen in
it for a bookmark. He sighed gustily and looked at the closed door to the
living room. Muffled sounds of conversation were coming from outside,
interspersed with shouts of raucous laughter: Conan, having some fun at the
expense of one of the Wiz’s folks, no doubt. There was no sign of Zero; it was
becoming obvious that he’d be spending tonight in Diva’s room. Bummer.
On impulse, the Bandit walked swiftly to his cassette rack and
withdrew an album that he almost never played any more. He popped it into the
deck, pulled on his headphones, and began to disrobe.

“Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?
You’re only dancing on this Earth for a short while,
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now….”

“Come to bed, liebchen,” Diva smiled, stretching out languidly on the
narrow mattress. Her body wasn’t a pin-up artist’s wet dream by any means: a
bit heavy in the hips and thighs, just a hint of a double chin. But her heavy
breasts and sinuous torso had an appeal all their own, as did the tawny patch
of hair just above her swollen labia.
She licked her lips. “I’m thirsty.”
Zero smiled at her as he undid the buckle on his belt and dropped his
pants to the floor. His straining underwear was stretched even more out of
shape than usual, and he walked over to her and waved the huge bulge in front
of her as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I can go get you a glass of water from the
bathroom,” he offered politely. “Or did you have something else in mind?”
“Hmmmm….” She rolled over onto her side, facing him and propping up
her head on one elbow. She licked her lips again, reaching out with her free
hand and giving the waistband of his underpants a tiny tug. The huge,
throbbing mass under the cloth shifted position and tried frantically to
escape, but didn’t quite make it. She laughed lightly at the spectacle, and
ran a caressing hand over the scarcely-covered testicles, weighing them
gently. With another gentle tug, she finally pulled the waistband over the
tremendous obstruction keeping his underwear on, and the pants fell to the
Zero’s penis was a terrifying club of throbbing meat dangling in her
face, as big around as a kolbassi and nearly ten inches long. It was the kind
of penis one tended to see in porn flicks, the sort of equipment that always
seemed to belong to the men submitting their life histories to the Penthouse
Forum. Most of the men who saw it coming out of the shower or in the locker
room turned pale and got very quiet, suddenly selfconscious. Even Conan, who
was put together like a stunt double for Arnold Schwarzenegger, said of it,
“All that meat on that skinny little guy…. it’s just not fair! He probably
can’t even manage a hard-on without passing out!”
That obviously wasn’t the case, as Diva could readily attest. It was
true, the weight of the organ was such that it never stood up at more than a
horizontal position even when fully hard, but that didn’t matter to her. All
that mattered was where it went, and what it did when it got there. She stuck
her tongue out as far as it would go, and licked the underside of the shaft,
from the base to the tip of the swollen purple glans, and smacked her lips
delightedly. “Finger me,” she said, “Finger me while I suck you dry.”
Zero slid a teasing hand down the length of her belly and over her
pubic mound, searching for her clitoris. It was already oozing and swollen as
he touched it; there was no question but that she’d been playing with it
already before he’d gotten in. She was in no mood to waste time that night, he
decided, and proceeded to slide two fingers into her slick crack as deeply as
they could go. Diva grunted loudly, gently caught the huge head of the bobbing
member between her parted lips, and teased the slit with the tip of her
tongue, tasting the sticky pre-come there. His fingers were finishing her work
of the past three hours, and she felt her orgasm surging up in her like a wave
of molten lead. She smiled around the huge knob between her lips, looked up at
Zero with wide blue eyes like a child asking for praise, and inhaled sharply.
It had taken months of practice with dildoes, but she’d learned to
relax her throat muscles and take his entire penis down her throat without
gagging, a trick none of his old girlfriends could ever have matched. It made
him her slave; he couldn’t say no to her loving mouth, and the fact that the
act made him seem the dominant one only put a touch of kink in the total
control she exercised. But tonight she was too close to coming to bother with
teasing him. Her strong inhalation sucked the entire pulsing member into her
waiting mouth and down her throat, all the way down to the base. She heaved up
on the bed, hands on his buttocks, scrotum flapping rhythmically against her
dripping chin, and tried her best to swallow his penis whole. And when she
felt him hit bottom, she began to hum.
That was all it took. Zero groaned and his legs shook as he dumped a
huge load of semen directly into her stomach, and her humming turned into a
confused series of muffled screams and gagging noises as she came all over his
hand, the warm flow of liquid in her belly sending her over the edge. Zero,
unable to endure the excess of stimulation, pulled his shaft from her mouth,
and she coughed up a thin stream of semen after it, a grey line that trickled
down her chin and onto her breast. She grabbed the still-rigid rod and pulled
as hard as she could, milking more fluid from it as she pulled him down atop
her and tried to feed his length into her sopping vagina.

“Now that I’ve lost everything to you,
You say you want to start something new,
And it’s breaking my heart, you’re leaving,
And baby I’m grieving….”

Teenie stared at the ceiling in the darkness, arms at her sides, legs
tightly together. I wonder where he is tonight, she thought. Is he lonely?
Does he miss me? Or will he just haul out one of those disgusting magazines
from under the bed and pull on himself until he forgets about me? Probably.
That miserable son of a bitch. I did the right thing, leaving him.
She rolled over and looked out the window at the drifting snow. It had
been snowing heavily for nearly a week now, and there was more to come. She
shivered. It was cold, even under her blankets. She frowned; it hadn’t always
been this cold at night. But of course not; she’d had him in bed with her
then, cradling her in his arms and saying how he’d loved her….
“Not tonight, Bandit. Please?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Not if you don’t want to. Sleep well.”
And that was all. No nasty hints, no pleas, no angry words or threats.
And later that night, when she was drifting in and out of sleep, she
remembered the sudden splash of something warm on her back, the gentle hand
that wiped away the stain, the kiss on her shoulder blade. He’d gotten what he
wanted anyway. He always did.
“I don’t miss him.” She said it out loud to the dark. “He used me as a
sex object. I don’t need him. The Rainbow Wizard was right. He just uses
people, and throws them away. I’m better off alone now. I am….”
She rolled over again, and started suddenly to find a furtive hand
betwen her thighs. Angrily she moved her hand elsewhere, and firmly shut her
eyes. I’ll say twenty Hail Marys tomorrow, she decided, and go to Confession.

“Oh, I can’t keep it in,
I can’t keep it in I gotta let it out,
I gotta show the world, world’s gotta see,
See all the love, love that’s in me….”

Livewire staggered through the snow, singing to off-key to himself.
His breath was thick with beer and vomit, and the front of his parka was
stained. He fell forward into the snow and lay there, panting.
I gotta get up. My face is cold, I got snow down my pants, man, that
really sucks serious dick. Shit. I’m tired. Maybe I should take a nap or some
shit, just rest a minute. I’ll get up in a second. I’ll count to three. I’ll
count to ten. I’ll count to three. One. two–
“Whugghh,” he said, scrambling to hands and knees and heaving beer and
half-digested hamburgers into the snow. He wiped his mouth with one hand and
got to his feet, weaving. Up ahead, through the snow, he could barely make out
the front of the Eastern Habitat. He stumbled forward wearily, one hand
outstretched before him. There were the front doors, up ahead, and there were
the steps, and there– he unconsciously counted up four floors and over two
windows– was HER window. SHE was asleep, looked like. Or she was fucking some
football player or some shit up there. Yeah! Fucking some football player
while he was stuck out here in the cold! Mother FUCKER!
Livewire went face down into the snow again, retching. At long last,
the last of the beer gone, he crawled up the steps and onto the porch. He got
one hand onto the door handle, and pulled feebly. The door hadn’t latched
properly when the last resident had come in, and so it opened with a click. He
pulled himself inside, smiled happily at the warmth of the air as the door
shut and locked behind him, and finally, mercifully, passed out.

“Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning,
Born of the one Light Eden saw play….”

The Rainbow Wizard held Mary Magdalene in his lap, gently bouncing her
up and down, up and down. Her smooth, wet pussy alternately clasped and
released his manhood, and he gently suckled on her breast as she threw her
head back and sighed in utter ecstasy.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Their whispers were a litany of love under the ceiling poster of
astrological signs that served as a canopy for Mary Magdalene’s bed. Unicorns
adorned every wall, and posters of fantasy heroes with swords and bloodied
shields hung on the door and beneath the window. A quartz crystal dangled
before the single lit candle in the room, casting multiple sparks of rainbow
light over the two intertwined bodies.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Over and over again, the words were repeated, chewed into meaningless
mantric syllables as the surges of sexual release ebbed and flowed forward,
surged up and receded, never allowing release, again and again and again….
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Mary Magdalene felt the beginnings of his orgasm, the tightening in
his legs, the swelling in his loins, the thin sheen of sweat on his face. She
smiled at his expression, glad of his joy, and began to accelerate her
“I LOVE you!”
“I LOVE you!”
“I LOVE you!”
“I LOVE you!”
Suddenly he tensed, his legs splaying outward, and gasped as his seed
filled her to the brim and overflowed, sweet, sticky, glowing faintly in the
dim light. The hot fluid scalded her insides, bringing on a sudden orgasm for
her as well, swift, sharp as a dagger, and as suddenly gone.
“I–ugh–LOVE YOU!”
She fell forward across him, her carpet of black hair extinguishing
the candle, and kissed the long scar from his collarbone to his groin as he
fell into a deep sleep. Lovingly, with a worshiper’s care, she lapped up the
softly glowing semen from his shrinking penis, licking it clean, then snuggled
up against him in the darkness. Her final whisper was a benediction.
“I love you….”

“Now that I’ve passed your test,
How could I lie to you baby, I’ll never make you sad….”

Twink laughed merrily, clutching her sides and rolling on the floor at
Conan’s latest joke. Of course, she hadn’t “gotten” it, at least she she
didn’t think she had, but she’d learned it was safer to pretend. When she
asked what things meant, people always groaned and looked funny at her, and
that was no fun at all.
Wiping her eyes, she got to her feet, and said, “Oh, Conan, that was a
scream! I love hearing your jokes.”
“Great,” Conan grinned, knowing damn well that she was trying to hide
the fact that she was totally clueless. God damn, what a total airhead! How
could anyone get as far as she did without learning *something* about what was
what, anyway?
“Is the Bandit coming back soon?” She phrased the question as casually
as she could.
“He’s already asleep,” Conan replied, inclining his head toward the
closed door to the room the Bandit shared with Zero.
“Oh!” Twink got up hastily, smoothing the skirt of her nightdress.
“Then I guess I should be going; I just wanted to talk to him, that’s why I
came down here….”
“Well, there’s me. Why don’t you stick around for a while?” Conan
smiled winningly and stretched, flexing his muscles.
Twink looked into his eyes, her smile a frozen mask. She was
remembering the last time she’d stayed around with Conan to wait for the
Bandit: the dark, sweaty room, the awful, awful….THING stretching her poor
mouth out of shape, the taste of mucus and something else, his voice: “Don’t
use your teeth, you stupid bitch! SUCK on it, don’t try to chew it up!”
“Thanks,” she said with feeling, “But I’d die first.” She cast one
longing look at the shut door keeping her from the Bandit, and fled into the
Conan watched her leave, sighing. Women, he thought to himself. What a
fucked-up species. He opened the door to his half of the quad, and noted that
neither the Rainbow Wizard nor Mary Magdalene was anywhere to be found. He
sighed again. Well, he thought, dropping his pants, at least I can beat off
without having to listen to them whisper sweet nothings to each other all
night. Now where’d I leave that copy of Hustler?

“Another Saturday night, and I ain’t got nobody,
I got some money ’cause I just got paid,
How I wish I had someone to talk to,
I’m in an awful way.”

The Bandit pulled off the headphones angrily and hurled them across
the room. “Fuck that shit,” he muttered, rolling over and closing his eyes.
Across the room, the cassette deck finished playing the album in a
soft whir, and calmly shut itself off.