Deus Sex Magnumcock Pt. 01

"Ooh, you're cute. Want to get the best fuck of your life?"

"Uh...no, but thanks anyway." Jim kept driving. She had been around nineteen, with a tight-as-hell body and a Barbie-face to boot. Why did he reject her, you ask? Well, because he was unsure of screwing anyone who would call it "getting a fuck."

Next there was a brunette, a blonde, a redhead—he did like redheads.

"Hi ho," Jim said casually, hanging one arm out the lowered window of his car.

"Heyyy." She was wearing a meager amount of material in total but it covered all the places required by law, a series of green fabric strips that showed Jim everything he needed to make his decision.

"Hop in."

They went to the nearest motel: a dingy rathole near Union Station that smelled of booze and sin— Jim felt confident this was the place to do the dirty with near-naked strangers. He led her to the room and sat with her on the dusty duvet, taking his time with her, stroking the hair from her face and staring into her feline-green eyes.

"You're so handsome," she said.

"Thanks. You're not so bad lookin' yourself."

They made perfunctory gestures at each other's person with hands and mouth and then disrobed.

"What's your name?" Jim asked.

"Aww, that's sweet. No one's ever asked that before. It's Cindy."

"Cindy. I like that."

"Thanks." She giggled, not knowing what Jim really meant was that it suited the dingy rathole and his unfaithful behavior under threat of ontological annihilation.

He still managed to get it up though, so that was handy.

"Put it in me, lover," Cindy said, stretching her thighs as wide as the mouth of a carp struggling to breathe.

"As you wish, my red-headed concubine," Jim said, slipping his foot-long into Cindy's gaping meat bun.

"Oooh. It fits pppurrrfectly," she said.

Jim did the math: hold on a minute, one foot is twelve inches, not ten. That bastard must have turned it big again! But luckily, Cindy had roasties that dangled lower than stockings on a paraplegic, and so it worked out perfectly. Or pppurrrfectly, as the woman in question would say.

"Give it to me, stud!" she yelped, excitedly thrusting her hips up at his crotch.

"Hmm...hmm..." Jim moaned indifferently, going through the motions required to secure his continued existence.

"Oh, baby, yes! Yes! YEESSSSSSSSSS!" She came, and there gushed forth a flood worthy of prior investment in Ark stocks, soaking the cheap linen as well as the spongy mattress thereunder. "Oh, my God, baby, I've never been fucked so good!"

"Hmmhm."

It went on like that for another ten minutes, then Cindy told him to stop because if she came again, she would "die of dehydration."

"You already used that one earlier," Jim said to the wall.

Because if she came again, she would "die of acute excessive orgasm disorder."

"That's too clever for a ginger roastie. Nobody's going to believe that."

"You come up with something then," the wall said sulkily.

"Who the fuck is talking?" Cindy said absently between pants. Jim's member had really done a number on her.

"Don't worry about him, he's just a pathetic fuck trying to play God and ruin my life in the process."

"Oh, my God, like, what a total douche," Cindy said in a Valley accent.

"You still haven't come up with anything," Jim said. "Changing her accent isn't going to distract the readers from that fact."

"Yeah, well now it isn't," the wall said. "All right, how about this:"

Because if she came again, she would "shart her uterus out."

"Fuck it, that'll do," Jim said, getting up and throwing on his clothes; he'd wash off the whore-stink when he got back.

"Oh, are you going already?" Cindy said, a weak hand reaching for him blindly as she floundered in a pool of her own sticky femcum.

"Yeah, sorry. I gotta return some videotapes..."

"What?"

Jim slammed the door behind him and strolled back towards the lobby. The clerk gave him the old "Eyy, you banged her real good, eh?" look, but he ignored it.

"Michelle is probably back by now. She must be worried sick."

"Well, you'd think the three tubs of Ben & Jerries she consumes nightly would make her sick too, and that doesn't, so..."

"Jesus, will you shut the hell up about her weight? You could make her thin any time you like, but you won't. Clearly you enjoy watching me suffer."

"You know what? Maybe you're right."

"So, will you make her hot again?"

"I tell you what, Jimbo, I'll make you a deal. A little gamble, if you will."

"Oh, boy, I know where this is going..."

"If this story gets three stars or more, Michelle gets to look like Cameron Diaz again. If not, then say hello to an even bigger friend."

Jim started the car and sighed miserably. "I'm doomed."