Bad Girls - Game Time

That day, I had naively hoped this version of the game was a one-off thing; that playing it would appease him. However, men being men, they like doubleheaders.

Now, Veena is back for game two, delivered like an unwelcome subpoena from an ambulance-chasing lawyer. Luca does it on purpose, the bastard. The games make us hate each other. What are we supposed to do? We all want the club jacket. We all want to go to Sturgis!

"Jitka, come on," Veena simmered through her boozy haze. "I...I'm leaking...I don't have (hiccup), "all...all night."

Condescending bitch. My next thought is to grab my phone and to get a quick video of her lying there with her legs spread. The minute she leaves, I will upload it to the web!

Fearing she might catch me, I drop the idea and instead contemplate reaching for the scissors in my nightstand. The thought of performing a female circumcision crosses my mind; Irish hussy, she deserves to be clitless!

Instead, and too predictably, I do Luca's bidding. Playacting nonchalance, and like a dutiful kitten, I use my rapier tongue to lap, to catch the gobs of creamy white sperm just then flowing from her cunt.

Wasted as she is, Veena senses the exact moment my mouth is full to overflowing, and propping herself up on her elbows, she slurringly says, "For God's...God sakes Jitka...don't...don't lose...don't you dare think about...don't even th...th...think about swallowing a single (hiccup) drop!"

Easing myself back, and nastily eying it, I direct my worst ever glare at her shimmering pussy.

What happens next amounts to closing a final loophole in some sleazy contract negotiation. As I ponder whether to swallow, the unexpected occurs; the taste of the weighty liquid puddling under my tongue turns me wide-eyed!

It is bitter, vinegary, and I know who spurted it. Shifting my glare upwards, I laser my eyes to Veena's.

Utterly glazed over, and barely alert, she fails to catch my epiphany. She is unaware that I know the source of the leftovers of the game's pinch hitter—one the scheming, deceitful Veena, has calculatingly failed to mention.

I want to blurt out his name, but with my mouth full, I cannot. Then I decide, no, she does not need to know that I know—and neither does Luca, not yet. Instead, I stay still, my brimming mouth ready to gush.

Wakening just a bit, Veena looks down the length of her shapely body at me. "Well?" she offers. "Are you done?" I nod. "Answer me, Jitka! IS IT DONE? Did you lick it all up?"

"Mmm...MMMMMM!!!" With a mouth full of bubbling semen, it is all the sound I can summon. Aggravated, she looks at me again, just as the roar of the Harley, the biker's standard statement of impatience shatters the stillness of the night.

"I need to get out of here!" she asserts, suddenly aglow. Lifting herself onto her elbows, she continues, "Spit (hiccup) now! Quick! Do it! Spit it into the champagne glass! Spit it, bitch! Do it now, before it gets too...too sudsy!" Sitting up, she glowers at me. "You know I hate foamed-up sperm, so spit!"

Nodding impatiently, I reach for the glass. Holding it under my chin, I set my eyes to hers and dribble sticky nut into the bubbly wine, then stir it with my finger.

Like a couple of wary high school students enthralled with a chemistry experiment, we watch intently as the muddy ejaculate fashions a murky whirling storm cloud inside the glass.

Right on cue, Veena stands up, draws her one-size-too small pants back on, and straining, she sucks her belly in, buttons, then clumsily steps into her boots. Self-importantly, she glances at her reflection in the mirror, fluffs her hair, and irritably grabs the scuzzy glass from my fingers.

Heading for the door, she manages an abrupt, "Thanks, bitch," before adding, "Who knows? Maybe this is the last game, Jitka. Maybe Luca is sick of your fucking bullshit." Exiting, she slams the door behind her.

Glancing scornfully at the sodden panties she has left behind, and hitting the light switch, I skip back to the window and brazenly raise the blind.

Down below, Veena has already made her way to the sidewalk and is approaching the crusty biker. There, she stops and turns, she looks up, sneers at me, puts the glass to her lips, throws her head back like an unbroken filly, and gulps the nasty cocktail, before contemptuously smashing the glass on the sidewalk!

Luca barely notices her. Instead, as she disgustingly wipes her mouth on her sleeve, he eyes me, a gesture she follows by shooting me one of her hallmark wicked-and-hateful looks before throwing her arms around him and running her knee up against his leg, plainly seeking a validating kiss.

To my delight, Luca refuses! Instead, he roughly pushes her away—which makes me smile. He smiles too and gives me a kind of informal Boy Scout salute, that two-fingered way he does when he wins the game.

The detestable Veena sees it all and is super-pissed. Pretending otherwise, she instead, fidgets with her long hair as she pulls on the gleaming black helmet. Throughout, I search Luca's demeanor for clues to his intentions. He is casual, aloof—from her!

With his gaze still fixed on me, he knows Veena lied! The sperm I reluctantly wet-nursed from her overly willing cunt was not my darling's! Its distinct taste explains everything, especially why Luca correctly refuses her kiss!

That girl is so stupid. To think a Sixty-Niner would suck face with some vixen who just swallowed another guy's cum. Ridiculous!

She does not know him, I smugly conclude, not at all. Loving gesture though her single swallow might be, the fact remains he refused her the one thing she wanted—a validating kiss. Instead, he extends a friendly smile—to me!

How do I know the mystery love juice belongs to a pinch-hitter and not Luca? I just do, that's how. It is Vince Moretti's, not my saintly Luca's!

With a kick-start, the big bike roars back to life, and in a flash, the unlikely couple zips into the darkness, leaving a plume of blue smoke in their violent wake.

Backing away from the window, I giggle an evil giggle. Yes, I conclude, I will be the one to go to Sturgis for the biker rally in August.

And the evil Veena? She does not know it, but for her, the music just stopped. For Veena—it's game over!

End