Lubed 02: Attack of the Lubies Pt. 03

The two men's virus-ravaged brains contained no thoughts, other than pure, unrefined, fiery heat. Their grunts and gasps were smothered by flesh and peach cum.

They ground and squelched together, through the early evening, before Cody stopped and drew back. The lubies looked at each other, hissing through bared teeth. They growled, primal and ferocious.

Cody rose and turned like a young lion, on his hands and knees, looping his legs over the Coach's body.

The young lubie's mouth, once again, perched over the Coach's engorged cock. The Coach, in turn, was presented with the tight rear end, plum-colored balls, and red-tipped, peach juice dripping cock of the "Liiiit . . . tuuullll . . . fuck!"

Both men plunged into Peach Melba sixty-nine, licking and sucking cocks and balls, reveling in each other's taste, as much as their virus-ravaged brains would allow. Oiled and cum-soaked flesh slid, rippling, synchronized, and orgasmic.

Soon, after drinking each other as much as they could, the men slid off, repositioning with a sinuous movement, oiled skin over oiled skin.

Cody slithered his body through Coach's parted legs. Coach's swollen cock slid against Cody's belly, groin, and balls.

The Coach looped up, over, and across the young man's back until he rested, curled, against it; his cock resting between Cody's ass.

Cody knelt, curled on his hands and knees, his puckered anus open and waiting.

The Coach entered him easily, in spite his girth, his oiled shaft stretched to young man's walls. The virus reordered Cody's brain, however, to translate pain into pleasure.

Now, the sounds were the rhythmic smack of flesh against flesh, punctuated by grunts, with the two lubified men repeating their respective mantras.

"Liiiiit . . .ugh! . . .tuuuullll ugh! fuck ugh!"

"F-f-f-fuuuuk . . .ah! . . . innng . . . uuughnnn! . . . cooooolllll . . . uuugh!"

The mutual orgasm was an explosion of peach cum, bursting out of cocks, flowing out of Cody's anus, streaming between their legs to puddle on the concrete.

The wave passed; the men spooned together, cum, oil, and sweat sloughing off their bodies. The scent of peaches hung in the air like the sweet smell of poison.

****

Jill Scott, all luscious curves, deep red hair, and eyes glittering cold emeralds, pranced down the sidewalk with all the graceful cruelty her black heart could muster. She spoke on her cell, eviscerating her "BFF" Cyndi Summerset for her idiocy in blowing Benji Ford, the lacross champ, allowing herself to be filmed doing so, and actually expressing surprise the episode went viral.

The whole scene, in fact, was surreptitiously arranged by Jill, using a camera concealed in a teddy bear, given to Cyndi as a birthday gift from Benji, who did the deed on the promise of a fuck from Jill, something Cyndi didn't have to know.

Jill had no reason to betray her best friend, thus. Cyndi posed no threat to her, socially or intellectually. She wasn't so much a best friend as a hanger-on. No, Jill did this deed to amuse herself.

Jill was a sociopath. If someone were to mention this fact to her, she'd laugh and wear the label with pride. She reveled in her beauty and evil, hiding the latter behind the former. Her manipulations and seductions entrapped teachers and classmates, going all the way back to her bad seed childhood. The world, to Jill, was a vast playground, with everyone in it, toys to be played and discarded. Her view of the world applied, especially to her dear, devoted, unquestionably loving, and completely moronic dad.

Jill didn't hate her dad; utter contempt, yes, but not hate. Contempt was the only emotion her poisonous nature could muster, in any case. Daddy had his uses, however. It was always good to have someone with influence as backup, in case one of her amusements backfired.

She pranced pass the Hall's house, barely sparing it a contemptuous glance. Her game with Cody Hall was fun in its day but the novelty wore off in quick manner, and she had other prey. Pity, he was kind of cute.

She was surprised to see the front door to her house ajar. "Daddy? I'm home. The door's open." The neighborhood was safe, mostly, but residents started locking their doors after some burglaries a few years back.

What's that smell? Jill sniffed. A cloying, fruity scent drifted into her nose. Peaches? Is Daddy using a new air freshener?

Jill's preferred use of "Daddy" instead of "Dad" was a term retained from childhood. It was her way of keeping her father wrapped around her little finger. So long as he thought her his pure, sinless little girl, she could get anything from him.

Daddy didn't seem to be home. The late day was still warm and muggy. Jill decided on a dip in the pool, then a shower. If Daddy wasn't around, possibly the frat house party she'd heard was happening later offered some interests.

I'll go anyway, she sniffed. It's not like Dad will stop me. Especially when I lie.

She changed into a white and blue polka-dotted bikini, in the bedroom. Jill, as she changed, remembered how she once let Benji watch. She reveled in her power over him, letting his gaze wander over her luscious, curvy body. He was a toy like all the others.

Jill always preferred a late swim when the sun was low. She shunned sunbathing; her skin freckled easily but she liked to swim.

Outside, the sun was setting. Jill sniffed at the pool's edge. The faint scent of peaches lingered in the air. What is it? Did Daddy use something powerful?

Jill dove into the water, arrowed through it like a red-tipped spear, and floated for a few seconds, pondering the upcoming party. She could fuck a few frat boys. Better make sure they don't give me any drinks.

She knew the game. She wasn't a fool but, for Jill, the thrill wasn't the potential violation of her body. It was the power and domination. No one got the best of Jill Scott. She was the fucker, not the other way around. The challenge to make an older frat boy fear her like her classmates made Jill nearly come with anticipation.

Oh boy, I can't wait to get to college! So many new toys, so much new prey.

She swam in the early evening, until boredom set in, and she went to the shallow end. Jill noticed something on the concrete when she walked out. A puddle of what looked like peach syrup. Eewww! What the fuck is that?

She stepped closer. A faint smell of peaches, mingled with something else, wafted to her nose. Cum? Peach-scented cum?

Jill didn't put it above her dad to fuck someone by the pool. He was handsome after all and strongly sexual. He'd plowed through most of the women, some married, in the neighborhood.

"Probably KY jelly," she thought.

She didn't begrudge his assignations, so long as they didn't interfere with her plans. I always need to keep him close. Some bitch better not mess with that.

Jill went inside, stripped her bikini, and rinsed off in the shower. She walked to the bedroom, drying herself with a towel. The peach scent seemed more intense in the bedroom. Damn Daddy! What brand of air freshener did you use?

She'd just finished rubbing lotion on her body, and was rummaging in her drawer for underwear when, "Fuuuuuc . . . king . . . coooollll."

It came from the closet, soft, slow, and menacing. The voice was familiar. The familiarity didn't stop the chill racing up her back. Intruder! Threat! Pervert! Rapist!

She backed towards the door. "The phone's in the kitchen, you idiot!" she berated herself.

A hand appeared at the closet door. Oh fuck! He's coming out!

The "pervert/rapist" who emerged from her closet stunned her thoughtless. He was very nude, very slick, and very, "Cody Hall?!"

Cody's glossy, wet mop of curly hair was plastered to his head. His eyes were bright and red. His mouth, spread into a wide, teeth-baring grin, giving his face a vapid ferocity, perhaps vengeful in nature. His body was slick and shiny from head to toe in "Body oil?"

A tint blushed Cody's skin; tinged with pink, faintly colored with a tan, almost orange taint. The light peach color to Cody's skin wasn't the fear-inducer for Jill. It was his unnaturally deep red eyes, and the spear-hard rod of flesh between his legs.

Jill had seen her share of cock. She was by no means, a virgin. The sizes and girth varied; most didn't impress. Sex, to Jill, was power, not pleasure. Of all the cocks Jill had seen, thus far in her young life, none compared to the unnatural sight of Cody.

His size rivaled porn stars. It's flesh was crisscrossed with thick, throbbing red veins, branching around the shaft. A quick question flashed through Jill's brain. Why didn't I know this before? She had little time to ponder the difference such knowledge might have made, before she destroyed his social life.

Cody's cock was topped by a deep pink glans. Its shaft's color was a more pronounced orange than the rest of his body. His swollen balls were the size of plums. Jill was reminded of two small peaches.

My God! He looks like a peach-colored zombie!

He was not a zombie of the Walking Dead kind; more 28 Days Later, only if the infected were dipped in peach syrup.

The peach monster Cody thing was walking toward Jill's very nude body, displaying an intent mostly seen in paramours past. In other circumstances, if they were cute, useful, and offered some advantage, Jill would oblige them. This creature before her, slick, shiny, and definitely horny, aroused in Jill an emotion never before felt: fear.

She didn't scream. Jill never screamed, ever; it implied weakness. She merely turned and ran. The young sociopath didn't get far. Her body ran right smack into another.

Jill didn't even have time to register surprise. Strong arms wrapped around her body, pinning her to him. She looked up and gasped, "Daddy?!"

T.E. Scott's blazing red eyes looked on his daughter with a fiery lust, unnatural and terrifying. Jill gaped back in shock. What's happened to him?! Words slurred out of Tom Scott's mouth, "Liiiit . . . tuuuulll . . . fuck!"

The redhead just had time to gasp, "Daddy what . . .?!" before her father covered her mouth with his own.

"Mmmm!" shock, horror, disgust flooded Jill's body. Bile bubbled from her stomach. Her Daddy was kissing her, and not in the loving fatherly way.

His tongue slithered through her mouth to the back of her throat. "Mmmm! 'Et 'ee 'oh! 'Ath 'ee!" Jill screamed and kicked. This wasn't her father, this thing kissing her. This thing whose tongue tasted like, to Jill's horror, Peach! He tastes like peach syrup! What happened to him?!

Peach-flavored spit flooded Jill's throat. She couldn't help but swallow some, while keeping the bile down her stomach.

She continued to squirm and kick, extremely conscious of her ample breasts pressed against her father's chest. A naked body pressed against her back; Cody had caught up. "F-f-f-uuuuuuc . . . kiiiiiiinnnng . . . cooooollll!" he whispered in her ear.

"Mmmmm!" Jill responded, unaccustomed feelings of shock, horror, and mortification racing through her body. Through her mortification, Jill couldn't help but note the warm, oily, slick texture of their bodies against her skin. A wet heat began to bloom between her thighs.

What the fuck?! I can't be getting wet! This is sick!

She struggled with greater frenzy, trying to ignore the heat spreading through her body. Coach Scott broke off the kiss. Jill sucked in air and gasped, "Daddy! Why are . . .?" She couldn't complete the question. Her mind felt . . . muddled. I . . . feel like . . . Cyndi . . .! . . . What's . . . happening to . . . me . . .?!

Furthermore, the greater the heat, the more cloudy her thoughts, the hornier she grew. Her disgust and horror sank under the red haze of lubification. Jill didn't notice her struggles assuming a synchronous rhythm with the two men. Nor her pounding fists flattening against her father's chest, turning to soft strokes.

She barely noticed Cody's hips shift. A moment later, something soft, warm, and fleshy entered between the moons of her ass, first probing at the bunghole with its tip, then slithering in with the easy slickness its oiled rigidity exemplified.

Jill's response hissed as a heated gasp. She'd never allowed anyone permission to her back door, preferring to leave the possibility as an option for manipulation. The touch of Cody's slick skin against her anal wall drew an aroused return, helping her lubification. Already, Jill's skin gained the pinkish tan tint with its oily gloss. Her red-tinted eyes, still bearing a trace of green, gazed at her father. "Daddy!"

"L-l-liiiit . . . tuuuul-l-l-l . . . fuck!" Coach Scott's hands moved to her thighs, grasped, and lifted. Just a few moments ago, while she still had a mind, Jill would have struggled with outraged frenzy. Now, the thoroughly oiled young redhead took her arms from her father's chest, wrapped them around his neck, wrapped her legs around his hips, and let her father slide his long, thick, oiled cock into her sopping wet, peach-dripping pussy.

"Mmmmm, Daddy!" she cooed.

Jill's bedroom transformed into a fetid peach-saturated orgy chamber. Cody's hips and ass flexed as he drove ever deeper into her back passage. Coach Scott's front pumping reflected Cody's movements.

Jill's body swayed back and forth, and bounced up and down. Slick, oiled skin slid against slick, oiled skin; cocks plumbed deep into her warm, wet body. All three climaxed simultaneously, shuddering together. Cum flooded the redhead's cavities and flowed down three pairs of legs, pooling on the carpet.

Jill kissed and licked her way across Tom's body. Her lips and tongue inched their way down and, when Tom and Cody pulled out, reached her father's groin.

A brief moment hovered while Tom Scott stood, lacquer-tipped cock inches from his daughter's face, red veins pulsing around the shaft, and dripping with his and Jill's mingled cum.

Jill took Tom's cock into her mouth and sucked. She raised her ass to offer her drenched cunt to Cody. The geek obliged without hesitation, such lack the ultimate effect of the oil worm virus. All three infectees were now completely lubified; soaked through and through with cum, oil, and virus.

Jill gulped peach syrup while Tom ran his fingers through her oil-slick hair. Cody smacked his groin against her bubble ass. The lubified spit roast went on until her womb and belly completely filled with peach cream. The lubies then shifted positions.

The men withdrew. Cody grasped Jill's legs and lifted them to his shoulders. Jill's father lifted her further. The redhead hooked her legs around Coach Scott's neck. She wrapped her hands around Cody's hip, and took his hard cock into her mouth.

The Coach and the geek dove into the redhead's now open cunt. The two lubed tongues and mouths alternated, and wrestled, with her clit, and each other.

All three were slick and shiny; the trio held together only by the strength of Jill's legs. The carpet underneath soaked in the cum, sweat, and oil, and droplets splattered the room.

Eventually, the orgy ended. The three collapsed into a shuddering, peach juice squirting pile. The orgasms died down after several minutes and the bodies lay still.

The first to rise was Cody. The cum sloughed off his Velcro-slick body. Someone, with a tendency to read too closely into expressions, might perceive a faint, ferocious satisfaction in the young man's grin. Otherwise, the grin could be dismissed as another quirk of the virus. He left the room whispering his mantra, "F-f-f-fuuuuuuckiiiiiinnnng . . . cooooouuuullll!"

Coach Scott left next, sparing no thought for his daughter. He spared no thought at all. The drive that carried him to the top of the athletic world now replaced by a far different force. He left the house to find another, "L-l-l-liiiiit . . . tuuuullll . . . fuuuuck," to share it.

Jill lay on her side in a pool of cum, her cunt, ass, and mouth dripping with peach. Her quest for amusement was gone. Her poisonous games replaced by another interest; a single overriding interest serving as her purpose for existence. She rose to fulfill it.

It was a warm summer evening. A beautiful, young redhead, eyes gleaming red hot rubies, walked out of the house; her nude, oiled body flushed and hot in the warm air. She stopped and licked her lips. "Mmmm Daddy," she purred, and pranced down the street, a destination hidden deep within her virus-raged mind.

To Be Continued.