Crunch Time

The Seraphim was droning on about metrics. God, they could be boring! These pep-talks were supposed to inspire. Instead, they nearly put Frank to sleep.

Like we Cherubs cared anything about conception rates or sincerity multipliers! Our job was to get them to fuck.

It had been a century since Valentine's Day was about anything but fornication. A hormone-fueled lust-fest ending in a mad dash to get laid.

Scored by total gross inseminations, which was a pretty apt name in Frank's opinion!

"Frank! What'd you draw this year?!"

Little Mariangela was almost hopping with excitement! She got into this stuff for some reason. Alway a rebel! Been that way since the Reformation, she was glad for any reason to get down there and do something.

"Detroit. Bleah."

Mariangela looked encouraging, in a false way. "Oh, that could be good? Desperation can be a powerful motivator?"

Detroit was in an economic downturn, had been for decades. A lust dead zone, normally. Tonight could be different I suppose.

She was looking at him like he was supposed to say something, almost vibrating with anticipation.

"Uh, sure. What'd you draw?"

"Hawai'i! Oh, it's going to be great! Peak season is November to March! All those college students with too much money! Retired couples looking to revive their marriage! Virgins looking to experience their first time!"

Good luck with the ol' sincerity multiplier! Probably make up for that in quantity though. Frank had to admit she had a shot.

He managed a fake smile. "Sounds like you have a chance of beating Haniel this year!"

She nodded vigorously, smiling so hard her angelic light almost gave him a sunburn. Turned to brag to another Cherub about her good fortune.

Fuckin' Haniel! He started winning back in the 1860's and never quit. For a prize he got his choice of locations the next year. Been playing that into a winning streak, the annual champion since Queen Victoria lost the 'love of her life' and started screwing footmen like a randy weasel, he fell into that one.

Since then, he chose California every year. Land of sun and beautiful women, gold diggers and gold-diggers! A slam-dunk, he didn't have to be clever to win.

Though Frank had to admit, that trick he'd used last year? Genius. At the last minute misdirecting a leather-and-chain motorcycle gang annual poker run to the regional college girls' volleyball tournament! The pent-up hormones, the suppressed lust! The number of virgin deflorations! And the girls had been excited too.

Can't go wrong with good old-fashioned fetish role-play!

Looking at Mari going on about Hawai'i with that Cherub from accounting, what was her name? She was a juicy number, have to hook up later, supposed to be easy according to Tien. Though from the looks she was giving to Mari, might not swing his way.

Tien! Not in the running, didn't care. Spent the whole of February getting drunk and bedding virgins in Saigon, the whole country of Vietnam celebrating Tet. And Cherub fucks didn't even count!

Frank wished he could be so laid-back, like Tien. Hah! Laid-back!

Why couldn't he have drawn something good this year? Like France, the French were easy, they'd fuck each other for a joke.

Or even Bulgaria! Festival of wine! Nothing like wine to drop the inhibitions. And the panties.

Anyway, the Seraphim was running down, only twenty-five slides to go. And just in time, the starting bell was starting to quiver, ready to issue the Angelic peals that started the contest!

There's St. Valentine himself, drunk in the corner, been drunk for years, he could do as he liked, this was Heaven after all! He was supposed to start the contest, strike the silver chimes with his golden staff.

A Seraphim had to do the job now, Valentine didn't have it in him anymore, something about a massacre a century ago took all the joy out of it for him. Poor sap.

Frank got a little excited, despite his melancholy mood.

It was the Cherubs' job all year to ensure a good crop of new souls, get the randy buggers to fuck and cum in each other and beget brats for the Heavenly Host to convert. Like they needed any encouragement - the place was busting at the seams!

But Valentine's Day was a special event, a twenty-four-hour festival of pricks and cunts and oh yeah romantic love was in there somewhere.

Second only to wedding season for conceptions, but that's spread out over several weeks in June. Easy-Peasy, virgin brides and randy bridesmaids, anniversary parties and booze, getting good numbers was a slam-dunk!

No, this was the end-of-the-year rush to pump the numbers, try to beat the clock and finish with a bang! Then the slate got wiped clean, they had two weeks while the scores were tallied and the souls accounted, then started out fresh on March 1st.

Frankly exhausting.

The Seraphim with the whammer-thingy was looking at his hourglass, here's the windup and Chime!!!! We were off.

The guy at the podium looked up with a start, twelve slides to go, panic'd!

"So um do your best folks! Make the Heavenly Host proud! Go out there and get those souls invested!"

Nobody was listened, the entire hall was emptying, little fluttery wings making a whirlwind as each shot off to their assigned location. Leaving a sad snowstorm of printouts and discarded programs drifting across the ivory floor.

Frank took his time, not straining any flight muscles, heaved himself into the air and pretty much glided down toward the black hole that was his post this year.

The town looked bleak from the air. Municipal cutbacks, the streetlights were off in large areas, abandoned, supposedly urban renewal but just moldering away, no life but rats and junkies there.

He aimed for a town center, lights still on and people still moving around. Some activity on a commercial strip, but from long experience Frank knew lovers preferred a little privacy.

A couple in the park, that was the ticket. Birds and flowers, she's holding a frilly gift box of chocolates. A minor cantrip would do the trick.

Frank loaded a tiny brass arrow, let fly. Missed. Getting too old for this shit.

Tried again, and this time square in the chest, close to the heart! Close enough.

The young man scooted over, inspired to close the gap, make his play. Put his arm around her shoulder, Frank sent a chilly breeze their way. She was going to resist but shivered, accepted his offer of warmth, glad for the shared body heat.

Took only a minute and they were kissing, then grappling, then his hand was under her shirt. Frank left them to it, no voyeur, that young fellow had things well in hand. Ha!

I've still got it! No need to pierce them both thru the heart with some mind-altering mega-spell. The old cunning ways were the best.

Used to be all about that. Inspiring True Love! Now it's mostly lust. The whole holiday devalued, turned into one-night stands, horny thrashing in the bushes, meaningless coupling and lusty emissions.

Sure, that all happened in the old days, sex was sex. But it used to matter that they loved each other, that it would turn into something. Now anything counted, single parents, multiple partners. Orgies! Anything to boost the numbers.

What had the memo said? This year, partial points for mutual orgasm! Fornication not required to score!

In the old days they had to swear eternal love. Falling standards everywhere.

Anyway, he'd tallied his first point of the day.

There! Almost missed it. That older couple, cutting through the park, going to a party. The blush of youth gone, but affection still dwelt in their hearts, he could see it glowing there like a little coal.

A tiny ivory arrow, really a stirrer-stick, inspire her to want coffee, a caffeine boost. There was a little shop just there, dim lighting, a dark corner. Her guy fetched her a latte, shared the first creamy taste. A milk-moustache kiss, some giggling. And there they go! Hand in trousers, panting, just like back when they were in college, fumbling in the student union, remembering their first white-hot forays into passion.

Frank left just about the time the guy's elbow knocked the creamer off the table, powder falling like a late snow, blessing their union.

That one felt better. Not setting any speed records, just one more point but getting the job done.

College! Why not, always felt too easy but why not make tonight special for some nerdy bookworm.

A community college around here somewhere, there! A block of quiet buildings, a haven in a city of industry.

Took only a moment to find a mousy quiet coed, browsing the stacks in the library, under her bulky sweater a volcano of bottled-up passion.

First, get that sweater off. Frank knocked up the thermostat by ten degrees. Didn't take but a minute, she was struggling out of it, her shirt riding up showing her tender pale belly, the bottom of her sport bra.

The fellow behind the desk noticed, stared at her display, her struggle, her belly button, her tits, turned his attention back to his computer screen with an effort.

Needs a little more...pulling out a tiny wooden arrow, the arrow of St. Giles the Hermit, Frank nocked and let fly. Hit her in the left tit, how appropriate! St. Giles was patron of breastfeeding!

The young woman felt a trickle, massaged her breast absently. Felt her milk letting down, not knowing what was going on. Felt the wet through her clothes! Alarmed, put a hand under her shirt, her bra, brought it out wet. Confused, she licked her finger, enlightenment!

But why? Curious about her body.

Desk-guy watched out of the corner of his eye, alarmed at her antics, alert, already hard. A good start.

What would it take? A little ordinary inspiration. He whispered in her ear, a quiet suggestion, invisible.

She headed over to the desk. "Where are books on human biology?" He volunteered to show her.

Back in the stacks, he helped her find the book she wanted, breastfeeding and nursing. She found some pictures, shared them with him.

Mere moments later she had shoved his hand under her shirt, mauling her splendid tits. Squeezing, her nipples leaking, sensitive and suddenly over-the-top horny!

Frank left them to their sucking and squeezing, clothes dropping like fallen soldiers, his mouth on her nipples and hers on him, his dick already between her legs now, then inside her wet cunt, standing naked in the library and cumming already but still hard, good for all night, those college men.

Like lighting a match, college-age humans. Just tinder for his spark. Felt cheap, but hey numbers were numbers. Three points! Bonus points for virgins!

Must be more mischief he could get into, here on campus.

The student union was usually a good start. And yes, dance marathon! Raising money for the women's health center. How appropriate!

The Sophomore Womens' running squad was competing with men's gymnastics, vividly muscled bodies on display everywhere.

Why did they even need Frank's help? This should be a sure thing. Indeed, one athletic couple taking a break in the cloakroom, nearing orgasm. Couldn't count that, not his doing.

The women had team t-shirts made up special, the 'cunning runts', a joke he guessed. Running squad, short college women, get it? Ha. A real pun, worked either way you read it.

The dance floor was a zoo of lewd behavior, beyond anything the brothels of old Northeast Detroit had ever had on display. Hips wriggling, knees apart, crotch-flashes everywhere, camel-toe central. And that was just the dancing!

It was already hot in here, the old union never been air-conditioned, windows open but that couldn't keep up with fifty young bodies working hard, putting out a thousand watts each.

As each dancer tagged out, took a rest while a teammate took their place on the floor, the young ladies invariably removed their panty hose, too hot!

It's like they wanted Frank to win.

This called for an area effect. Pulling out a strangely curved black arrow, a wad of pitch on the tip, Frank lit it with a snap of his fingers, let it fly over the crowd.

It spiraled up, up to the vaulted ceiling of the old ballroom, exploded in a burst of brilliant flame, rained down over everyone. Only Frank could see it of course.

Greek fire! Expensive, but worth it when it worked.

And boy did it work. Almost immediately the Senior organizer found himself stripped, pushed down behind the bar by one of the runners, cross-country by the look of those abs, straddling him while two teammates did their part to distract him.

He was not in any pain, no sirree. Handsome in a Latin way, he nearly split a lip smiling as she fished his cock from his athletic shorts, slurped it down, got it hard while two more runners kissed him, sucked his nipples. Then scooting up, plugged herself in and off she went!

Stamina! These women had wind, plenty for the straights then plenty left over for a big finish. Like an automatic pogo-stick out of control she banged her butt into his hips, kneeling over his cock, jack-hammering her body onto his, penetrated to her limit and threatening to pound clear through her cervix, until sploosh! he gushed in her pussy, her athletic cunt muscles milking him like a fist, jacking him off with her Kegels.

She came too, suddenly writhing and screaming, you could just hear it over the music. Slumped off, face contorted, smiling, leering, legs twitching like a dog running in its sleep.

And was replaced immediately by a teammate, tag-teaming the poor bloke, he's in for a marathon to be sure!

The next assailant was the squad captain, confident, legs like a goddess, glutes like two basketballs, super-fit and driven. Jacked in without any preamble, got her feet under her in a squat, began humping him with six-inch strokes, almost out then slam! to the hilt.

Bent over, still coupled and banging, hips rising and falling like she was jacking him off with her cunt. Tried to stick her tongue entirely down his throat, choking him but he didn't mind, he could breathe later.

Another gush and she came with him, primed to cum from the display she'd witnessed, felt his warm rush, quivering hips fully mated, pressed into him, accepting his jism, eyes closed. Stood in one smooth motion, cum-strands trailing out of her body, plopping on his thighs. Hands in the air making fists like crossing the finish line, proud!

It continued, she stepped away and another took her place, his stamina matching theirs, Frank had something to do with that! Twelve times the team assaulted the Senior man sexually, twelve times he reciprocated with ejaculate worthy of a Brahma Bull. The rest of the team surrounding, cheering their mates on, a crowd in a mood for a party.

Counting up, Frank tallied three women on their cycles, ovulating. Three pregnancies! Not counting the one earlier in the coatroom. A good haul. Counts as fifteen!

Leaving that for now, letting the poor fellow recover, phone numbers raining down like parade confetti, Frank cast around for another target.

In a quiet corner of campus, the administration building, the Dean of Students was in consultation with the new college president. Cute, boyish, the President was questioning his Dean about her intent.

"A program to promote decency on campus! Do you know what they're getting up to as we speak? Fornication! Intoxication! Sodomy! A shameful festival of carnal impulse!"

The young President clearly didn't see what the fuss was about. "They're young! Exploring their boundaries! The right time in their life to be curious, experiment."

"We're responsible for their morals! Their behavior reflects on this institution!"

She brought up a web page to make her point, illustrate the problem.

I nocked up an ordinary dart, sharpened to pierce the hardest hearts. Let fly, pierced her clean through her chest, through-and-through.

Paging through illustrations of cock-sucking, standing-fucks against a wall, doggy, 69, anal! her upper lip began to bead sweat.

"Y-y-you see! All these perversions are causing students to stray, leading them into a life of hedonism, detracting from their sober studies!"

The President was following, alternating between the screen and her face, hovering inches from his, intent on the images in front of her.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with... all this. Could you explain how this one works? It doesn't seem like the geometry would permit..."

The image showed a woman, naked but for track shoes, bent over, body jackknifed with both hands on the ground, butt projecting, one leg on the ground, one stuck out behind.

The partner stood behind, held her thigh, held that leg horizontally. Clearly mated cock to cunt, his prodigious length visible between their bodies yet vividly socketed inside her, eight or nine inches easily.

"I.. I could demonstrate?" She was sweating prodigiously now, face and shoulders red, blinking away drops that trickled down her face, dripped from her chin.

She stood, unsure, saw his encouraging nod. She planted her feet on his rug, bent over, legs straight, back straight, put her arms on the ground, an inverted V, hips presented at his waist level. She was a former basketball star of the school, returned as faculty in Physical Education, still strong and limber.

"Now, the man, that would be you? Stands just behind, right, like that. Raises one leg, yes, straight back, no higher! Really spread her open! Yes! Yes!"

The President had one hand on her hip, steadying her, leaned, grasped one thigh, lifted!

Slipped her skirt over her hips to get a proper grip, found her panties damp. A thong really, only a thin strap of fabric between him and heaven.

With his hand on her hip, reached between them and ziiiip!

"Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Like that! Now you've got it!"

Indeed, the geometry did work out, splendidly. She scooted her hands forward unconsciously, to lower her fulcrum, mate better with his member. He pulled the thong aside and sliiip! he was inside.

"Yes I see it now. You believe this activity would distract students, keep them from their proper studies? Disturb their minds, their sober intellect?"

"Yes! Make them lustful, overcome them with thoughts of passion! Desire! Disturb their mental processes! Oh! Oh! Like that, like that, don't stop!"

He didn't stop. His wet cock, slick from her cunt juices, did a perfect imitation of the man in the image.

Frank watched, not immune to the hot porn scene playing out in front of him. Put one hand into his robes, found his own member, played along as audience to their little scene.

She got into it now.

"Take me! You miserable son of a bitch! Rape my cunt with your academic cock! Inseminate me! Give me your bastard baby! Gaaaawd! I'm cumming!"

And she did, wetly, spraying his cock, his belly, ruining his expensive pants with a rapidly spreading dark stain of woman's juices. Her arms buckled, he followed her down to the carpet, their fornication link intact. Continued pumping gently, deliberately, until he ejaculated in her still-pulsing vagina, studiously filled her with his semen.

Frank counted that as two, even though there was no impregnation - she was not at the right place in her cycle. Overcoming a zealot's resistance always counted for two. The hypocrisy bonus they called it!

Leaving them to sort out their messy situation, Frank flitted through the roof, ranged around, looking for more opportunities to enliven the night.

The dormitory! That was a fertile playing field. Ha. Old joke.

There! A weedy Junior, helping a Senior woman across the hall, her sink not working, laying underneath, doing something with her plumbing.

Actually knew what he was doing; he had it fixed. That won't do. Frank did something to the washer, aged it ten years, made it wither and crack.

"There! Should be good now!" He stood, holding a crescent wrench.

She smiled, cute in the pyjamas and crop-top she wore around the dorm. Boobs as big as her head, and bouncy with no bra, college-girl firm and perky for all their size.