by Bent Ampersand ©
They were predicting violence in the streets and she had found a man. "Those your dolls?" He asked gruffly as she shut the door behind him. The porcelain dolls were standing and sitting, neatly organized on shelves screwed into the wall over her bed. They were similar in that they all had curly hair. They were different by hair color and dress.
"Uh-huh," she answered, her back against the closed door. She wetted her pouting lips a little. "I've been collecting since I was seven years old."
"How old are you now?" He asked, approaching her.
"Eighteen now," she answered timidly.
He reached up for her glasses and she pulled away instinctively. He shushed her, placing a finger to her lips. He then went for her frames again. And she let him.
"See?" He said, with a genuine smile. "Look what we have here... pretty girl."
She shook her head, smiling a little. And he could see her cheeks flush red. He then bent over slightly to put his lips to hers. "I haven't..." She interrupted the motion. "I haven't kissed anyone before."
He moved ahead anyway and pressed his lips to hers. The response was clumsy, the inexperience demonstrated through her mashing her teeth toward his. The eagerness was there. She wasn't going to back out, he could tell. He felt the lightest stick of her trembling lips. Her nervousness was making him nervous.
"I can't believe this is happening..." she said through the kiss. He smiled back, breaking the kiss. He then brought his hands up to rest on her tits over her sweater. She inhaled suddenly. "I mean, might as well... right?" She seemed to be looking for assurance.
He pulled her sweater up, touching the backs of his hands to her round belly. His knuckles brushed tiny Goosebumps near her pants. "Right..." he said, looking into her eyes.
She touched a hand to his back and felt the gun. Her hand quickly ignored it and traveled upward.
"Take off your sweater." He said lightly. He took a step back, his hands clasped in front of him patiently.
"Sorry I'm not prettier," she apologized, maybe stalling. He simply shook his head and indicated that she should do as he instructed. "My parents would flip out if they walked in right now." She placed her hands on her sweater and pulled it upward, revealing the pale white skin of her imperfect belly. She had love handles. Up and over her white cotton bra. And then off, pulling her long straight hair away from the door.
"When will they be back?" He asked, reaching for the hook on the front of her bra.
"Next year," she half-laughed. And then she corrected the estimate, seeing he was serious. "Around three, probably."
And the bra was unclasped. He let the cups slip a little, exposing the heft of her nicely sized tits. He took in her chubby nature standing there clad in her loosened bra and blue jeans. She didn't know where to put her hands, so she reached up and bunched up her hair, causing the bra to slip more and reveal her erect nipples.
And her skin turned even redder.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, reaching for a wisp of her hair. He twined it between his thumb and forefinger.
"I don't want to be a virgin," she said with a touch more determination then he'd heard from her so far. "Not for the next millennium..." Those words seemed to crack her up. He placed his hands on her bra cups, palming the cotton. He pressed his hands into her heavy breasts with the cups. She raised her chin and knocked her head into the door as she sighed her approval.
"And I want to get laid tonight of all nights..." He said wistfully. He leaned forward and kissed her chin, and then her neck. His hands squeezed her tits even harder. She gasped and he leaned away to look at her. Her eyebrows were raised, confused at so much sensation at one time. "You're beautiful," he said.
"I am not," she insisted.
"Come to bed." He led her to the bed. It was quilted with something that had to have been woven a long time ago. He mused it may have been her grandmothers, he didn't know for sure. Near the bed was the clock. Not much time till Y2K. She slipped her bra from her shoulders and she looked suddenly cold to him. "Take off your jeans and get under the covers."
"What about my panties?" She asked, uncertain.
"Leave them," he said, unbuttoning his own black shirt. His body was nothing to be proud of. In many ways, he was like she was, beneath the baggy clothes. But he never let it bother him. He was quite happy with his face. He slipped the gun from behind and reached over to set it on her nightstand.
She tossed her jeans to the floor, revealing her average thighs. "We should turn the lights off," she said meekly, as she slipped beneath the quilt.
"I like looking at you," he said, slipping his pants off. "Besides, I want you to see..." He had no underwear on. The kissing and groping had aroused him slightly and he let her gaze on his offering. She stared at it a moment and then looked up at his eyes. "Touch it. It's okay."
"Get in here with me." She said, the phrase sounded awkward at best, mildly forced.
"Touch me." He said.
She touched her tongue to the inside of her cheek, contemplating just what to do with what was in front of her. She finally slid toward him and reached a shaking hand upward.
His lungs filled quickly as he felt her cold fingers touch to its head. She opened her fingers and ran the head through the groove, almost emulating a vagina. His breathing quickened and he looked down at her.
She was fascinated with the bizarre bit of flesh. She opened her hand and reached around the length. First simply grazing it and then, with the lightest grip. She looked up for his response.
"That's right..." he said with a husk.
She felt it fill her grip, its skin growing taut. It was bigger then her palm now and moving upward. She felt his dick stiffening and it was enlisting a response from her own loins. She looked up at him, swallowing nervously.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Nothing," she said quietly. "Kiss me."
He bent downward to kiss her and she released his erection. Her kiss was nice. Slow. And encouraging. "What is it?" He asked again.
"Nothing. Get in here."
He slipped into the quilt with her, beneath the porcelain dolls. She pulled the blanket upward to cover his chest. And then she went back to touching. He moaned quietly. "What is it?"
"I'm... so..." She was embarrassed to say. "I'm so wet..."
He leaned over to her and kissed her. "You're beautiful."
"Stop saying that," she whispered through half-opened eyes. She felt the end of his dick get wet. She smeared the new stickiness over its length. And then it was his hand on her panties, touching to the fabric. She sighed heavily, breaking her thighs apart to bring him closer. So that he might touch her exactly where she wanted him to.
And he did.
Her moan was unreserved.
Damp cotton.
She began kissing the air with her eyes closed as his fingertips pressed the fabric into her. The fabric was being tested and she could feel the bands around her hips being pulled. "Oh god..." she whispered, pulling on his dick more urgently.
"Do you like it?" He teased mildly.
"Uh-huh," she hissed, inhaling through her nose. She then chuckled quietly, afraid someone might hear her. "I always... suspected I was a slut."
He stifled a laugh of his own and pressed into her again. She leaned over to him and forced her tongue into his mouth. He could sense her fire controlling her now... as he was beginning to lose control himself.
She reached downward with a free hand. She brushed his hand away and went to pull her panties aside. "Inside," she whispered. "Touch me inside."
His fingers dragged slowly against her wet opening. They dragged up to her stiff curls and then back down. With each touch, she groaned. Her hips began meeting his fingertips, encouraging it to happen. So he let it.
She clenched her eyes shut, thankful to feel him.
His fingers parted her and slowly circled her insides. Her free hand gripped the quilt as she panted lightly. Her hips clumsily humped his motion, seeking equilibrium.
He withdrew. She cried out.
"I have to fuck you, darling," he said.
"You have to fuck me," she said, a little dazed.
The bed bounced lightly as he maneuvered beneath the quilt, finally arriving over her. Her heavy breasts were rising and falling beneath him, but he was looking into her eyes.
She looked up at him and brought both hands up to stroke his narrow cheeks. She brushed his hair back and pulled him forward for a kiss. So pregnant with longing were her lips and tongue. She needed him to feel it, feel the electricity he had awoken so deep in her quaking, virginal form.
He gripped her panties and ripped them with one hand.
Her hands went to the back of his head.
The fat head of his dick slipped over her wetness. He traced it up and down, letting her smear him with what had been yet untouched. And then, his hand forced the right angle from the thing. And it slipped into her.
"Oh...god!" She shouted, feeling it fall into her. Just a bit of length for now. She hissed and the clock on her nightstand signaled the new era. "Happy... happy new year," she panted as he put more weight forward, breaking her hymen. And then the pain shook her.
He held his position. "Are you okay?"
She turned her head from his and swallowed wetly. And then she looked at him sideways with longing. A tear on her cheek. "Tell me I'm... beautiful."
He slipped deeper inside. Smearing her juices and her blood.
Car alarms echoed in the streets.
She wrapped her thighs around him, squeezing him against her as she felt him begin to fill what had been so empty before. Her nose inhaled sharply and she exhaled her words, "Tell me..."
And it began to slip from her. Inch by inch. Her head flopped back against the pillow and she stared up at him with drunken eyes.
And he gave it to her again.
"Yes..." she hissed.
"What you always wanted..." he groaned.
"Tell me..."
He twisted his hips, prodding her deep with a circular motion. He opened his eyes to meet hers, inches away. He crashed his lips against hers and mumbled, "...you've always been beautiful."
"You don't even know me..."
Sirens could be heard screaming in the street outside.
He brought his ass upward and slipped his length back down. His breathing rising and falling; her own breath a mirror. "Suck my tits..." she moaned, whipping her matted hair.
And he dragged his lips over her ripe mounds, coaxing her erect nipples into his teeth.
She could feel him pulling something from her. From deep in her belly. With each move away from her, she could feel him hooked to a string inside her. The string was getting tighter and tighter. And all she wanted was for the string to break. To tear. So that she could release. And spill.
He felt her incredibly tight insides, gripping and un-gripping him. Slipping over him and squeezing him. And best of all, wetting him. He brought his lips to hers and her breath was almost as hot. And he felt he was ready to come. Ready to shoot inside of her what she'd so rightfully earned.
"Harder," she panted. "Fuck me."
And he fucked her harder, knowing it to be dangerous. He felt it welling from within. Normally he could go awhile, but she was demanding.
"I'm going to come..." he managed.
"Do it then..." she cried out.
"Inside?"
"Do it," she gripped his back, a hand going for his ass. They had humped the quilt off of their sweaty bodies.
And then something broke. The front door.
He clenched his teeth and released his come into her loins. She hissed her response, flooding over him in return. He continued to fuck her, leaking his seed deep inside, against her belly. She moaned a long hollow moan, turning away from him and kissing her wet pillow.
"It's the end of the world!" A voice said.
Startled, he slipped out of her, a string of semen still uniting them. And he looked behind him.
She jerked away from him and saw it too.
An old man. A street man.
"They're rioting in the streets! May god have mercy on you both!" The old man then raised a shotgun from his side.
Her lover reached for the nightstand.
And he was shot in the back, his collapsing corpse landing on her.
She shrieked. Her hand flailing for the nightstand.
"Are you prepared, missy?!" The old man demanded, circling the bed, looking for a clear shot. "For the dark times? When demons will walk the Earth!?"
Once the old man had a shot, so did she. And she raised her lover's weapon and pulled its trigger. She pulled again and again, with her eyes closed.
The thud of the old man's body.
She opened her eyes and saw red porcelain. And amidst the tears, the blood, and the sweat... she wept.
"I am
now..." she cried. "I am now."