tagHumor & SatireTore Up From the Floor Up

Tore Up From the Floor Up

bycbsummers©

Thanks for the comments!

I fixed a few errors, but mostly I restructured the story to make it more catchy from the beginning. I think people haven't been reading it because it didn't start engagingly enough.


*

I first saw my Dream Girl doing 85 on the Pacific Coast Highway, heading northbound out of Malibu. We were both driving red convertibles. I was behind the wheel of my a brand new Maserati Gran Turismo. She was behind the wheel of a cherry 1965 Mustang. I first noticed her long black hair, being whipped up in the air like a halo around her head. I thought, "Could this be...?"

I found a break in oncoming traffic, and pulled alongside her to take a look at her face. Fuck, what a beauty! She was Asian, with prominent cheekbones and hooded eyes. I could tell she was tall, probably taller than me, from the size of her long beautiful arms and elegant hands. She was wearing a low cut, white blouse, which the wind was whipping about, exposing, in little flashes, the milky curvature of her large breasts and the lacy black bra that was barely able to contain them. She looked over at me through her smoky pink sunglasses. She saw the look in my eyes. She knew I was a Dog. She smiled a crooked little smile, winked and stepped on the gas, leaving me in the dust. She was a total tease. I put the pedal to the metal to catch up with her.

PCH is a damned twisty road, so it got pretty hairy pretty quickly, but I wasn't about to let her get away. I knew this woman. I'd dreamed about her for years, and here she was, five car lengths ahead of me and accelerating like a motherfucker! She drove like a demon, swerving around those curves like a grand prix driver, and zigzagging past the slow pokes. I pulled along side her again, as soon as I matched her speed (somewhere in the neighborhood of 95) and shouted my name. She shouted hers. We couldn't really hear each other, but that didn't matter. We had already made a plan with our eyes. We were going to head back to Malibu, stop at the first hotel and fuck until sunset the next day.

She did a 180 on the highway, like something out of a movie, and started heading back to town. I'd never done that kind of maneuver before, outside of a parking lot, but I had to or she might have lost me. Soon I was chasing her tail, like The Dog I am. I even tried to pass her to demonstrate my top Dog status. But she sped up with me, not letting me get by. She had a beautiful, wicked smile on her face. We went faster and faster. The needle passed 110.

Then that damned wide load truck came around the bend. It was a house on a big trailer, and even though there were flashing lights all over it, we barely had time to react. I guess that's why those damned speed limit signs are everywhere. Live and learn. We both swerved outward, passing that house-on-wheels with only inches to spare. But we overcompensated on our rebound and swerved together. Our cars clashed and our fenders entwined in a shrieking screaming sound. We swerved and spun and skidded and squealed in a ballet of twisted metal that played out in horrific slo-mo. Her car broke free of mine and headed straight as an arrow toward the glittering blue pacific. She smashed through the guardrail and did a Knievel over the cliff, leaving PCH in her rearview.

Her hot red Mustang made a crazy arc through the air, trying to flip ass over front as it dove toward the briny blue. Apparently she didn't believe in seat belts, because she flew out of her seat, arms opening like wings as if she were trying to ride the warm ocean breeze to safety. But gravity wouldn't let her off the hook. I marveled at the beauty of her long legs. Yeah, she was tall, just like my Dream Girl, and nicely fed. This girl definitely had some junk in the trunk. She was wearing a short skirt that accentuated the voluptuous curves of her body. I marveled at her beauty, even as she fell, tumbling through a flock of sea gulls, into the roaring waves below. She splashed thirty feet beyond where her Mustang met its watery end.

I guess I should have kept my eyes on the road, instead of turning my head to follow my Dream Girl's terrifying trajectory. My anti-lock brakes kept me from skidding as I slowed, but my wheel clipped a rock on the side of the road, and the world turned upside down, then right side up, then backside front and every which way, until my sexy Maserati crunched to a stop against a great big chunk of the good old planet Earth.

I sat there in shock, bleeding and immobile in the twisted wreckage. Breathing the weird gasses hissing out of my deflating airbags. I was absolutely certain that the future Mrs. Dog was dead. It caused a pain in my heart worse than the grinding of my broken bones, worse than the pain in my arms, which were cracked and bent in the most alarming directions. I watched in my spider-webbed rearview as several Samaritans scrambled down the cliff to fish her out of the sea. It took a while for the Jaws of Life to set me free, so I was still there when the EMT's hoisted my Dream Girl up the cliff, strapped to a gurney. She looked like a rag doll, but the paramedics said she was alive. Barely.

Our race continued, only this time we were in the back of ambulances, trying to beat each other to the hospital. I got my first close look at her, lying in a gurney next to her in the emergency room. She was a total mess. A fuckin' disaster, bruised and bloody from head to toe. Tore up from the floor up. Both of her legs and one arm were broken in numerous places. Her face was swollen and unrecognizable. There was a long bloody gash on her cheek. But her worst injuries were internal.

I was looking at her when she died.



They call me The Dog. With good reason. I'm a tail chaser, straight up. I make no bones about it. I am all about the pussy. I'll do anything to get it. I love the women who hold their keys tight, but I also love them easy. Hey, I'm not particular. Women, all sizes, shapes and colors, that's what I crave, day and night, dreaming, waking and working.

I have only three rules: she's got to be over 18 (I card), free of STD's (I take their word for it), but most of all, she's got to be into The Dog. Believe it or not, there are more than a few women out there who meet these exacting specifications. It's only a matter of sniffing them out. It ain't easy, but if you're always on the hunt, you never go hungry.

I don't want to leave the impression that The Dog can't love. I've searched my whole life for my Dream Girl. I've always known she was out there, somewhere, looking for me. She's of Asian extraction, but not small and skinny like most Asians. No, she's a few inches taller than me and an athlete, though not a professional one. Maybe she plays Tennis or Volleyball, but it's definitely something competitive. She's strong, but you wouldn't know it to look at her, because she's a little on the chubby side. Not flabby. Let's just say she's got a bit of wiggle in her walk, if you know what I mean. She has a healthy appetite for food, as well as for sex.

She has long, straight black hair and her breasts are all natural, beautifully shaped, and larger than my hands. Her skin is the color of milk and soft as silk. And although her face glows with a radiance that speaks of innocence, you can see by the sparkle in her dark brown eyes that she's a dog, through and through. Like me. She thinks about sex all the time and ain't too particular about who she beds, just so long as they're clean and eager. She's into guys, girls and groups, and has done enough of the truly freaky shit to know it's not for her. But she loves it up the ass. She's the kind of girl that makes men's dicks hard just walking past them on the street. She's just that fucking hot. But she's not vain. She was just born that way, after all. She says it's nothing to be proud of. She's balled nerds and jocks, repairmen and stock brokers, fatties and skinnies, grandsons and grandfathers, and she didn't care if they were in her league or not, because life is short and if you can't give pleasure to your fellow man (or woman) then what the fuck's the point?

My Dream Girl is looking for the right man, for whom she'll feel love and loyalty, but who won't tie her down. She hasn't got a jealous bone in her body. And when she finds me, she'll love me with all her heart, even while she's watching me screw a stranger. Because she's happy that I'm the kind of man that will love her with all my heart while she screws you.

Yeah, I know. The impossible dream. But there she was, lying on the gurney next to me, dead as a doornail.

I heard the terrible long beep her heart monitor made when she gave up the ghost, and all at once the whole emergency room staff poured into the room to save her. They rolled in the crash cart, were shouting out commands and shooting her up with drugs, just like on T.V. Then without so much as a how de do, one of the nurses cut her shirt and bra off with a big pair of scissors and I laid my eyes on the most beautiful set of ta-tas I'd ever seen. Those lovely globes were just the right size, just the right shape: paper white, with pale brown areolas and lovely little nipples. Fuck. That tall Asian cutie was built like a brick house. When they shocked her with the paddles to start her heart again, her breasts jumped and jiggled. They were all natural, baby. My cock began to harden immediately.

Okay, I know, she was technically dead and I'm a sick man to have been checking her out at a time like that, but I have to remind you, this was my Dream Girl. I'd been in major lust with her from the moment our eyes first met, and it was breaking my heart to see her die. It was a mother fucking tragedy! I had to admire her while I could. Soon they'd cover her up with a bloodstained white cloth and wheel her to the morgue. I'd never get to touch that perfect body, nibble those beautiful boobs, or hear her orgasmic groans as I slammed my cock into her perfect pussy. It was total pitsville, man.

I was also high as a kite from the pain meds, so give me a break.

I wept like a baby, if you can believe it. A baby with a raging boner. But when I heard the beeps of her resurrected heartbeat, I tried to should out in joy. I couldn't though; because of the tube they'd shoved down my throat to keep me breathing. I could feel no pain when I realized she was probably going to survive, and Dog that I am, I savored the idea that maybe I'd get a chance to give her that orgasm after all.

Then I passed out.

The next few weeks were a living hell, I shit you not.

In addition to several broken ribs, both my arms were fuuuucked uuuuuup. I mean, serious fractures. They'd mummified me in one of those upper body casts where the arms are supported in front of you on metal posts. My legs were okay, but scratched up pretty bad. They hurt like hell if I moved them even a tiny bit. I was as helpless as a baby. At first they gave me a catheter, since I wouldn't be able to piss on my own, but I got an infection in my piss hole, so they had to take out the tube and help me pee by hand. The first time it hurt like hell thanks to the infection. But by the third time, the pain was gone, and here I was, trussed up and helpless, with a twenty something fresh-faced Latina nurse holding my cock in her gloved hand. I tried not to let it happen. I may be The Dog, but I know the difference between appropriate and inappropriate. But my cock apparently never got the memo, because it got hard, and fast! I guess nurses are used to this kind of thing, because she pretended not to notice. She tried to let go of my stiffening rod, but it just stood straight up. I'd have pissed all over creation. So she had no choice but to bend my wooden cock sideways over my thigh and hold it, aiming into the piss jug, or whatever they call it.

Any guy will tell you it's hard to piss with a hard on, so she had to hold my dick for quite a long time. She kept saying, "maybe later", but I'd say, "No it's coming. Just hold on. Sorry..."

All I could feel was her fingers on my dick and I kept thinking, 'If she fondles my cock much longer I'm gonna shoot my wad in that jug!' But I finally pissed, though I was so turned on by then that it totally felt like I was coming anyway. I gave a long, drawn out groan of pleasure the whole time it took to piss. She didn't like that. Not at all. When it was over and she'd covered up my raging boner with the blanket, I tried to apologize, but she wouldn't look at me.

I thought it was just because she was so cute. I was wrong. After that, every time a nurse touched me to piss, I got a hard on. Every single time. It didn't matter if the nurse was old or young, male or female. It was intensely embarrassing when it was a dude holding me. But I must admit I took perverse pleasure whenever the young Latina nurse got the job. Fuck, she was so sexy; I got a hard on every time she came into the room just to take my temperature!

What can I tell you? The Dog's cock is a pampered pooch. He felt neglected.

And here's the part of the story where I tell you how one day the hot Latina, so turned on by my 7 inches of steel, suddenly bent over and blew me until I shot my wad down her hot little Latina throat. But that ain't what happened. I hate to admit it, but she wasn't into The Dog. Actually, touching The Dog's dick kinda grossed her out.

That wasn't my only frustration. I tried to find out about my Dream Girl's health, but since I didn't know her name, nobody on the staff would give me any useful information. Maybe they took my boners personally. I don't know. All they would tell me was that she was alive and in recovery. I would lay in bed hour after hour, day after day, just thinking about her... picturing her face, her flowing hair, her pale breasts bouncing as they brought her back to life. And my cock would get hard, tenting my hospital gown for anyone passing by to see. I could hear the nurses snickering. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't touch it. It wanted to come! I'd never been so frustrated in my life! It would just throb and throb, hard as a bar of iron. Absolute torture! I tried to get relief by calling my regular fuck buddies. They liked The Dog and all, but not enough to visit me in the hospital. Bitches.

Eventually I could stand to move my legs and the nurses encouraged me to start walking. I'm sure they wanted to speed my recovery along so I could start pissing on my own again. It certainly made it easier now that I could sit up on the edge of the bed. All they had to do now was lift my hospital gown and push the plastic jug over my hardening dick. They didn't have to touch me there anymore. But I missed it because it was the only contact my cock got, other than the occasional sponge bath.

I was motivated to get back on my feet because I knew that the future Mrs. Dog was out there somewhere. I had to find her before they carted her away to another hospital and I lost her forever. Walking was pretty painful. With my arms in that insane cast, the IV cart hooked to my arm, and my chest wrapped up to let my broken ribs heal, I had to move slowly and carefully. As soon as I was able, I began to make shuffling excursions around my floor of the hospital, secretly searching for my Dream Girl. She was here somewhere, I just knew it. I just had to sniff her out! Every chance I got I would creep about the hallways, my dick at half-mast, peering into open doors, desperate to find her. The nurses tried to restrict my little jaunts, because frankly, I was creeping everyone out. So I began to get up in the middle of the night to continue my search. I discovered the best time to hunt was between 3 and 6 am, when there was only one nurse on watch in each floor of the hospital.

Eventually I started to think maybe she'd been transferred to another hospital. But finally, about a week into my search, I found her in a different wing, on a higher floor. My heart leapt with joy when I realized my frustrating search was over! I only recognized her in the darkness by her long black hair, but that's all I needed. I'd know that hair anywhere! Her face was covered with tubes and a breathing mask. I shuffled in and closed the door behind me, bumping it shut with my encased arms. She was in traction. Her legs were set in casts and hoisted up by some sort of medieval torture device. The leg casts ended a few inches below her ass. The blanket was between her legs, so I could see the side of her ass and waist glowing pale and silky in the dimly lit room. It was obvious she wasn't wearing any underwear. I got an instant erection. Her right arm was in a cast, also supported by cables, but her left arm was only slightly bruised. It was curved beautifully, clutching a blanket to her chest.

I walked up close and looked down at her mask-covered face. One eye was swollen closed, totally black and blue, the other closed in sleep. I could see her mouth in the mask. Goddamn, she had some gorgeous lips. I bent to look closer, but something in my fucked up ribcage rubbed the wrong way, giving me a shot of pain that made me grunt.

Her one good eye popped open and she looked at me.

"Hi", I said.

She moved her lips, trying to say something. I noticed a bandage wrapped around her throat. I guess the accident had fucked up her throat too.

"Sorry about the accident. It was all my fault."

She just looked at me with that one amazing eye. It was almond shaped, with long eyelashes and dark brown corneas. A fire was burning in that eye that could never be extinguished.

"I should let you sleep. I just wanted you to tell you... I think you're the most beautiful, sexy woman I've ever seen in my whole fuckin' life. I chased you on the highway... I'll chase you anywhere. Coz I think we're made for each other." She chuckled and immediately winced with pain. It was a pretty crazy thing to say to a tore-up woman in traction. But I meant it.

I saw something in her eye that gave me a thrill. I knew that look. I'd seen it the very first time our eyes met.

She unfolded her hand from her chest and pulled the blanket down, slowly, seductively, revealing her body clad in nothing but a hospital gown. She threw the blanket to the floor. I could see nipples poking up through the thin blue fabric. She winked with her good eye. Then I heard her chuckle some more. I laughed too, and boy, did it hurt.

She reached up and put her hand on my cheek, her IV tubes almost getting entangled on my rigid arms. I saw a wicked little smile curl up in the corners of her mouth. She moved her hand slowly down my neck and chest, drawing her fingers across me like a spell. It was a beautiful movement, graceful and dance like. Her hand kept going down, slowly, very slowly. Down my chest, down my belly. All the while her good eye was looking in my eyes. She knew what she'd find down there without even looking. She wrapped her hand around my hard shaft and squeezed it through my hospital gown. By her grin, I could tell she was pleased by my size. Not too big, not too small. Juuuuuust right! I arched my pelvis forward in pleasure at her touch. She swiveled her hand around and kept going down, her fingers trailing along my leg, until they reached the bottom of the gown. Then she put her hand under and ran it slowly up the inside of my thigh. Up, up, up until her warm hand was cupping my balls like a baby bird. I groaned as she massaged me there gently and expertly.

Then she wrapped her fingers around my naked cock. She tried to stroke me lightly, but the fabric of my gown kept getting tangled in her fingers and IV tube. She grabbed a handful of the fabric and tried to fold it out of the way, but gravity is a stubborn thing. So she began to tug at my hospital gown with mounting lustful desperation. She grabbed my ass and turned me around and reached up to untie the strings on the back. But my arms were up in the casts, so there was no way to take the gown off easily. She couldn't reach the ties on top of my shoulders and I couldn't bend over far enough. But she kept yanking on it until the straps ripped free and my gown fell to the floor. The effort accidentally pulled my IV tubes out but I didn't give a fuck.

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