Friday night, and I was off down chill, coal-sweet streets to the House of Black Mirrors. A famous house -- at least within a one hundred mile radius of old Ogie. But if you haven't got a sense of that place, well, all you need to know is that all the "desert flowers" are brought there for the tasting. Trained in the forbidden dances and songs and other things kept from the proles, and available only to the corporates and long-drawn drug duster bandits.
I hadn't been to the house in oh so long. The last show I saw -- an exquisite pleasure aimed at sadistically pleasing the visiting Killjoy gang. There was this young minette, all star-kissed and bangled and gore-mouthed, with fantastic bleachy hair and these legs! There was an actor with her on center stage dressed to resemble a Killjoy. He was caressing the minette, telling her what a fine sand whore she'd make, which drew a whoop from the audience of rough-and-tumbles. She pretended to be scared, speaking high up and cooing out pleads to not take her please oh please. The mock Killjoy laughed and struggled with her until he'd got his imitation ray-gun jammed into her lubed slit. The star-kissed minette crawled around stage her plasticine tits bobbing and the ray-gun starting to drip as synthetic cum drained from the girlie's hips and she let out the cheekiest little gutterals and moans. The Killjoys -- the real ones -- really got off from that one.
But this night, I was going not for the public show but a tasting of my own. Mr. Torrence, pleased to heavens with my drug sales, gave me a tishy bonus. And that bonus was fair efficient for buying me a look-see at the House of Back Mirrors. One need only go to the back door and present the shrine fee to be led back through a dim, rum-stained hallway with a devotchka behind each door.
I arrived at the house and knocked on the back door. I was let in and led down the hall, being promised all the while by a scruffy sir that any door would open to a delight all ready to go. Door 14 seemed lucky somehow, so I opened that.
Inside a room that nearly blushed from all the pink décor, a slut -- a sweet devotchka -- sprawled on a bed. She had on a cheap red slip and dark knee-high nylons and you could just make out the bright pink teenybopper lingerie underneath it all. Her hair fell just above her tits and her eyes were painted and she sported danglies in her ears. When I entered, this girlie was busy rubbing her pink panties against some pillows, making her pussy swell up near to bursting. Her nipples were so hard you could see them through her bra, which was jam-packed with tits that leaked just a bit as she got more and more excited.
I recognized this one from some of the ads the house pasted up in the Underground. Her name was Vixen, and she was rumoured to cum so many times that when she finally had enough, the whole bed was about ruined.
I went over to her and pushed her on her back and straddled her supple hips, my cock meanwhile beginning its delicious struggle with the front of my trousers. I played with the girlie's poor milky tits, forcing them out of the bra, pressing and flicking those rosyvtips and feeling her buck under me. Her tits swoll up, matching the growing hardness of my cock, and I knew it was time. I pushed the crotch of the devotchka's panties aside and took a peek -- she was practically streaming with juicy cum and her clit was bursting pink and her lips glistened in the dim light.
I bent down and sucked on her clit until she strained against me and came hard. I gave her a minute of mercy before going back and playing with her tits. The devotchka got ready again, so I had her rub her pussy into the pillows again until she was close, and then I took the imitation cock on the bedside table and slipped it in between two of the pillows so she could ride it, rocking madly as she smeared wet juices on the fabric. The sloshing sound of lubed pussy on lubed fabric and the very sight of it all made my cock pulsate and strain even more, but I wanted her to come over and over until I had to force an orgasm out of her, so I resisted the urge to wank.
When she got off, I leaned down between her legs again and sucked her to ecstasy, shoving two of my thick fingers into her at the last minute and thrusting them even after she exploded on my hand, the muscles of her pussy clenching again and again.
I knew, though, she wasn't done. There was still one left in her and my cock couldn't wait anymore. I hovered over her and rubbed her tits and watched her tits swell a bit and leak pitifully. When I knew she'd come down fully from the last doozy and was ready for the next, I took her with my own cock, shoving it in, really stuffing her up, pushing against her muff until my devotchka glistened and swelled and blushed and moaned with sweet tortuous pleasure and she bucked her hips and asked shamelessly and pathetically to please come with each surging thrust. Again and again I smashed into her pussy, feeling it tighten as the first little squeezes of orgasm started up deep inside her.
I closed my google-eyes and took it all in: the smack of juices likely trailing by now from her pussy down her ass to the sheets, her moans of fuck me fuck me fuck me oh god and me mumbling out that no god could help her now, the smell of sweat and the acidity of cum and cigarettes building in the room like an angry cloud of lust, the feeling of my cock getting bigger and bigger and stretching this devotchka more and more till my cock surely must be forcing it's way in and tearing anything left between her hips, my feeble attempts at suppressing groans as I knew I couldn't last anymore because I was going to come and come and come.
And I did. First just a little awkward spurt, which made the girlie gasp anyways, but then the full flood of sperm let loose blast after blast, the white liquid popping out of her pussy with more and more intensity until my final thrust.
I pulled out of her, smiling in my foolish ecstasy, and refastened my trousers, leaving the slut to continue sprawling and blushing with cum leaking out of her.