tagSci-Fi & FantasyLollipop Porn Bitch

Lollipop Porn Bitch

byblack7spades©

She fucked like a train.

Any guys reading this? You know that feeling when you're on a train, or hey, a bus. You know that feeling, down there, between your legs, the tickling. Before you know it, the gentle vibrations coming up through the seat are more of an aphrodisiac than standing in your swimmers in front of all the Grade 10 girls at the pool.

Yeah, guys, you know it. It's the bus hard-on. Girls, just think about the last cock you sucked, it's like that.

So anyway, she fucked like a train. Distant rumbling in the background, flashing red lights, everything stops while the train gathers momentum. The one-eyed metal beast penetrating the darkness, swelling, steam and metal on metal.. she fucked like that, except wetter and noisier, and she thrashed every so often, like demons passing through on a joyride.

Her head cocked back in a spray of red. Her cunt spasmed on me and I shot my load, my finger relaxing on the trigger as she slumped backwards, train wreck on the wall behind her.

Probably the best fucking orgasm she'd ever had. No complaints from me.

I don't condone violence towards women. Normally. But these were special cases. There weren't enough people with the balls to clean the streets up, but I had the balls. Big balls. Huge balls, in fact. My balls had been mistaken for a constellation once. They're called something like Ophidian 0X/31-CD7. True story. This one's not, but I don't give a flying fuck what you think. This is how it is right now.

***

There are cancers percolating in my city right now, and me and my big balls are doing our part to cut them out. Somehow, a mad fucker somewhere has released a bunch of soulless sex machinas into the streets. These Lollipops use and abuse the able bodied men out there. Once you come, you're done. They suck the life right out of you.

Trouble is, the more they do it, the more awake they become, and we can't have beautiful sex machinas out there sucking and fucking our lives away. That's why I have to kill them before I come. This has an amazing erotic side effect, as you've no doubt been made aware of.

It's a tough job but someone's gotta do it.

Anyway, the more these Lollipops suck the life from us, the more powerful they become, something like a massive superbrain, wired up to each other, exchanging information and experiences telepathically and other sci-fi bullshit. We can't have that. It gives them an unfair advantage.

So I rolled up to Clubb Fukk in my tri-chrome FenderBlasta6000 with the mags and fluffy octadice. Hey, stop laughing, I told you this was some serious hardcore sci-fi shit going on here. So I rolled up there, and there was a line about as long as my cybernetically enhanced phallus. That's pretty fucking long guys. Take that bus hard-on and multiply it by the swimwear pool Grade 10 girls faux pas times ten and you're getting the idea. Besides, it has this great aural attachment. It's been engineered to pick up on a Lollipop's pheromones and it emits this soothing kind of hum in my ear. Retractable and everything. Anyway, I jackknifed the line, because waiting around is for posers. The conversation with the bouncer went something like this.

"Let me in."

"No."

-click-

"Let me in."

"Grmmph."

They always say that with the nozzle of my gun frenching their tonsils.

After I do away with the Lollipops, I'm going after the bouncers next. That'll be purely in my spare time.

I shouldered my way through the throng, like the Arnie droid in Terminator. I didn't look anything like him, of course. I don't want to give you the wrong idea. In my line of business it doesn't pay to stand out too much or I'd be fighting off regulars and the Lollipops wouldn't come. Throw on some black, a smart pair of shoes, and a few spare shirts to throw away if there's too much blood later on, it's all good. And I don't wear the sunglasses at night, that's just fucking corny. No, think smart casual, you get the drift.

I could do it like Arnie though, because my cyberphallus gave out a low subharmonic vibration. Anyone, anyone normal that is, felt an uncomfortable pressure at the puckered mouth of their ass, as if their dinner had fastforwarded through their guts. To a Lollipop though, it was an irresistible beacon. All I had to do was gyrate on the dancefloor for a few minutes before my next catch of the night would come. Moths to flame. Ant to honey. Whatever simile you want, either's good.

Clubb Fukk wasn't renowned for its music, if you were wondering. Any post-modern neo-britpop McLaren with blonde hair and "DJ" in front of their asinine name ("Cock", "Seishell", "Skarb", "t3300l", whatever) had the qualifications to spin some epilepsy inducing seizure at Clubb Fukk. You figure out what people came here for.

But I fit in. There was leather on one side. Spiked out hair and nipple pasties on the other. Some chick, long limbed, all lips and eyes drenched with sex was performing some elaborate mating ritual with a smart looking guy. I hoped he had protection, and I'm not talking about the rubber kind.

She looked like she could be a Lollipop. I tried not to notice and swam over to the pierced chick, mouth like a steel trap. My cybercock twitched. Sure sign. Found another one. This one was probably a pain junkie. She grabbed my shoulder, pressing in with her fingernails.

Yep.

I pulled her towards me and pushed her face onto mine. The metal in her tongue clacked on my teeth as we rubbed up against each other like that for a few minutes. The music started thumping and I saw red creeping into the edges of my eyes. Had to hold off at that stage so I pushed her into the crowd, turned and walked away.

"Hey!"

Keep walking.

"Asshole!"

That's not my name. Keep walking.

"Son of a bitch, wait!"

Nobody talks about my mother like that.

Stop.

Fingernails on my shoulder again.

"Don't you fucking move another step unless I say so."

Typical. I knew how to deal with these ones.

I dropped, spun and punched her hard in the gut. As expected, she folded. As I rose I scooped her over my shoulder. I flipped her forwards into the wall, slamming my palms onto her shoulders.

"No sweetheart. Not tonight. Tonight you're mine."

Her eyes widened and that grin they all get spread across her face at 8.5 on the Richter scale.

The next bit's a blur, because the redness had spread into my field of vision and I never think too straight at that point. I know she was in my car, playing with my cock while I drove. She was fingering herself and putting her fingers in my mouth. She tasted good, tangy. Snap and her head was in my lap, up and down. Snap again and her legs are around my shoulders in some acrobatic sixty-nine.

Flash. Snap.

Fucking her ass.

Snap.

Inside her cunt.

Snap.

Crack.

Pop.

Wait. That's not how it's supposed to go.

Everything coalesces into bitter sharp focus as a static pain floods my entire crotch, shooting down my legs, up my spine and spearing into the back of my head. I'm convulsing like a dying fish before a heavy pain on my skull makes everything else hurt less, by comparison. And then again. And again. Snap. Snap. Snap. Red.

The last thing I see before I slide into black emptiness is that whore using my cyber cock as a double dildo; fucking herself with one end and licking blood from the other. She's smiling. I would've been too, in her position.

This is the point where I tell you I'm an unreliable narrator. You'll like this bit.

Turns out she had me pegged all along. The Big-O Gunshot had finally been caught. She'd tagged me that night outside Spunkcunts. I'd been hers from that point. All that shit about the Lollipops was a lie, of course. I really was fucking nuts. The irony doesn't escape me as my head slams against the cold metal of the chair, a massive hose of electric cable between my legs. My hands curl in anticipation of the current about to ride me like a bitch.

Lollipop porn bitch.

Suck it and see.

End.

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