Seinfeld - "Skin Flick"

Seinfeld - "Skin Flick"

by J.D. Savanyu

On a cold winter night in 1997, Jerry Seinfeld and his on-again-off-again girlfriend Elaine Bennis were chilling on the couch in their Upper West Side apartment, drinking Canadian beer and watching a hockey game on MSG. The New York Rangers were getting pulverized into the ice by the Hartford Whalers, seven to nothing.

"Damn, the Rangers really suck this year," Jerry whined. "Even with Wayne Gretzky."

"They're a bunch of overpaid Manhattan bums, just like us."

"I wish I could make that much cheddar just for slapping a puck."

Elaine sighed pleasantly and stroked his khakis. "That's enough hockey for now. I'm in the mood for some porn, baby."

She grabbed the remote and turned the TV to The Spice Channel. Jeanna Fine was getting fucked hard by Mike Hammer in a dystopian cyberpunk dreamscape, wearing nothing but black latex gloves.

"I've been hearing a lot about this movie," Jerry said. "Shock: Latex 2. More latex than you can a shake a stick at."

"I love these artsy skin flicks. A lot of porn writers were English majors, but they usually just crank out stupid trash."

"Your brain is your most powerful sex organ, so you better not waste it."

Cosmo Kramer burst through the front door, making another wacky entrance with his trademark physical humor.

"Hey Kramer," Jerry muttered, annoyed at his neighbor's constant refusal to knock or use the doorbell.

"Hey Jerry, what's shakin'?"

Kramer marched into the living room and did a comical double-take when he saw Jeanna deep-throating an eight-inch penis.

"Whoa, hachi-mama! That's some shocking pornographic action."

"Shock: Latex 2," Elaine said. "A neurotic sci-fi porn masterpiece by Michael Ninn."

"Sounds like a real hoot," Kramer replied "All my friends are talking about this new Spice Channel."

"I heard someone mention it on the subway last week, and I thought it was about actual spices," Jerry snickered.

"Like rosemary?"

"Or turmeric."

"Marjoram has a nice zing to it."

"I'm a marjoram kind of man."

Jerry stroked Elaine's thighs through her dress, watching that blonde bombshell get ass-fucked in a Neuromancer-esque labyrinth.

"This movie is awesome," Elaine said. "The sex scenes happen within the catatonic mind of Malcolm Stevens, a convicted rapist at a mental hospital. A bunch of busty blonde scientists try to rescue their busty blonde co-worker from Malcolm's mind, after she was kidnapped into there during experimental digital brain shock therapy. It's like a fucked-up futuristic Frankenstein."

"I'm getting a headache just thinking about it," Kramer remarked. He pulled four paper tickets out of his pocket. "Anyway guys, Neumann just gave me four movie tickets for Titanic, tomorrow night. He was planning to see it with his family, but then his father died in a car accident, and they have to go to his funeral in Jersey City."

"Oh my god, I've been dying to see Titanic!" Elaine beamed. "No pun intended."

"Titanic is a criminally overrated piece of crap," Jerry muttered.

"How do you know? You haven't seen it yet."

"I've been hearing lots of bad reviews from my fellow comedians. We can smell a shitty movie from a mile away."

"Come on Jerry, it's the motion picture event of a generation."

"A degenerate generation. And that Celine Dion song is hideous."

Elaine grinned slyly, and crooned the chart-topping tune "My Heart Will Go On."

"Loooove can touch us one-time / and last for / a liiiifetiiime . . ."

"Oh my god, that song is fucking retarded!"

"No, it's a great song. And it's not just a chick flick. It's got amazing special effects, and Kate Winslett is a flaming hot redhead. She poses in the nude for Jack, showing off her big milky tits."

"That's not enough to justify three hours of torture."

Elaine groaned in frustration and tossed her jet-black hair. "Tell you what, Jerry-boy. If you don't take me to see Titanic, I won't fuck you for an entire week."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh yes I would. No blowjobs or handjobs either."

Jerry sighed defeatedly. "All right, all right. You drive a hard bargain."

"I got you got wrapped around my pinky finger."

"You won't regret it, Jerry," Kramer added. "George wants to see it too. We'll meet you guys tomorrow at eight, at the Cineplex Odeon on 78^th street. Leonardo DiCaprio's performance will take your breath away."

"Why don't you take your breath away, out of my apartment?"

"Sure thing, buddy. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." Kramer winked audibly toward the rough sex on the Spice Channel, and made a comical exit toward apartment 22. Mike pulled out of her asshole, and Jeanna jerked him off with her black gloves, getting a literal facefull of splooge.

"Wow, that's the biggest cum facial I ever saw," Elaine said. "I want some latex gloves just like hers."

"Fuck yeah. I wanna get jerked off by those smooth shiny skin-tight numbers."

"Let's go down to the Times Square sex shops tomorrow and buy some. In the meantime . . . we'll just have to go bareback."

She jumped onto his lap and kissed him passionately. His dick went up like a rocket, pressing against her pink panties. She unbuttoned her white blouse as fast as humanly possible, with cyberpunk synthesizers blaring on the TV.

"I'm going down on you harder than an iceberg," she growled while unfastening her pink bra.

"I can't wait to see a porn parody of that James Cameron train wreck," Jerry remarked while freeing his prick from his pants. Elaine swooped down and shoved it into her mouth, blowing him just like Rose blew Jack in the backseat of a 1912 HP Renault Town Car, in the cavernous depths of an ill-fated passenger liner.

"Jolly good, Lady Bennis," he said, lamely attempting a British accent. "You suck my pork sword like a robber baron's wife."

She giggled with a mouthful, and sucked it even harder. Twisting her head back and forth, up and down, just like Shayla LaVeaux in Shock.

"Pleasure my bollocks, Lady Bennis."

"As you wish, Sir Jerry."

She grabbed his ballsack, jammed both testicles into her mouth, and sucked them almost painfully hard.

"Pip-pip, cheery-o! You're the best trollop on either side of the pond."

She kept torturing his balls for a full minute, then she pulled back abruptly, ejecting his hairy sack with a funny poof sound.

"Let's get you out of those tawdry knickers, and onto my big fat tallywacker."

"I love it when you talk British dirty to me," she moaned. Her slacks and panties were off in a flash, and she mounted him like a Wild West cowgirl. Her tight pussy was a perfect fit for his long thick meat puppet.

"Ooooh fuck, that feels so good!" she groaned while moving fast along the full length of the shaft. "Bitches were made for bouncing up and down on dicks."

"What happened to your British accent, Lady Bennis?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

She slapped him square on the face, making him yelp.

"I love it when you play rough."

He returned the favor by spanking her ass nice and hard, making her yelp louder.

"Keep spanking my naughty ass, you big Jewish mensch."

"Sure thing, you lousy schtupping nudnik."

He spanked her over and over, turning those firm cheeks a bright shade of crimson. Meanwhile in Shock, a blonde lesbian pussy-whipped another blonde lesbian with a black leather crop, in a penthouse suite in the heart of Cyberpunk City, with random arthouse images flashing on the walls.

"I'm gonna pull your pigtails, bitch."

He shoved her against the couch cushions and yanked her black bangs while pounding her pussy, making her shriek in girlish laughter.

"Yeah, you love that. You love getting tickled too."

He tickled her tits and underarms mercilessly, making her laugh like hell.

"Keep laughing, girly-girl. I'm your fucking joker," he remarked while fucking her at a steady clip.

"Oh god, oh god! Please - please stop, Mister Joker! Don't make me piss on your couch."

He stopped tickling, and nibbled her nipples like a thirsty freak. Then he hoisted her feet way up in the air, and used his own feet to grind her face into the fabric.

"That's right, smoosh my face with your feet. You're so fucking crazy."

He piled-drived her pussy into the cushions for a minute, making her tits flail all around. Then he shoved his bare toes into her mouth, and she sucked them with the same enthusiasm.

"Suck those dirty toes, you dirty ho."

He made her suck the toes on his other foot, then he wrapped his hands around her throat and drilled her ass into an armrest. The rough role-playing pushed him quickly toward the edge.

"Time for your tea and crumpets, Lady Bennis. Get down on your fucking knees."

She promptly obeyed his order, kneeling on a plush Berber carpet. He grabbed her hair, yanked her head up toward the ceiling, and masturbated at full speed.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, sheeeeeAAAAAAH!"

He pumped her face full of hot slimy jizz, oozing down to her pointy c-cup breasts. She moaned in total satisfaction.

"Swallow it like a good girl," Jerry grunted while huffing and puffing. She fingered every last drop into her mouth, and swallowed with a cute grin. She stood up and turned around, showing off her yoga-toned ass while tossing her hair.

"Hey, where the fuck are you going?" he growled. He spun her around, dropped to his own knees, and sucked her clit like a tiny dick.

"Oh fuck, ooooh yeah!" Elaine moaned in response to the cunilingus. "Eat my pussy up, Mister Joker!"

He licked her labia and jammed his tongue deep inside her pink vagina. She grabbed the back of his head with both hands and reached an unmistakable orgasm, squirting like a Harlem fire hydrant. She stumbled backward with her head in the clouds, moaning harshly. She tripped over the wooden coffee table and crashed down to the floor, breaking the table into several pieces.

"Holy shit! Are you okay, Elaine?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied while brushing five recent issues of TV Guide off her naked body. "But that coffee table is toast."

"Totally. No more coffee table books about coffee tables for that coffee table."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next evening, Jerry and Elaine walked toward the Cineplex Odeon. The line for Titanic poured out of the theater and stretched halfway down the block on 78^th street. They met Kramer and George Costanza in the line right outside a Kenny Roger's Roasters. The homely aroma of chicken and gravy filled the cold winter air.

"Hey guys," George beamed. "I can't wait to punch my ticket for the RMS Titanic."

"I'm sure you won't enjoy the trip," Jerry grunted. "They took the worst parts of every bad movie ever made, and squeezed them into a three-hour pile of bullshit."

"No way, it's a killer flick. James Cameron is a cinematic genius. He directed my all my favorite movies: The Terminator, Aliens, The Abyss, True Lies, and Terminator 2: Judgement Day. Hasta la vista, bee-atch!"

"I won't be baaack," Jerry remarked, imitating Ah-nold Schwarzenegger.

"I definitely will," Elaine said. "I love these sappy vintage love stories."

"I love them too, because I'm not getting any action in real life," George muttered.

"Don't worry, George. I'm sure your soulmate is lurking out there somewhere," Elaine said.

"Lurking in a giant metropolis with seven million pretentious jerks," George replied glumly.

"Including yourself," Jerry quipped.

They heard a commotion across the street, and saw a hooded thug snatch an old lady's purse and take off running toward Central Park.

"Now there's something you see every day," Kramer snickered.

"This is New York, baby," Jerry replied. "The city that never sleeps, with a hundred crooks for every cop."

George took a closer look at the screaming victim across the street. "Hey Jerry, that's the lady you stole a marble rye from."

"No fucking way!" Jerry groaned while blocking his face with his coat. "That old bag must have a curse on her ass."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

An hour later, they were sitting in the back row of the theater, watching Jack Lawson perch on the forward prow of the Titanic next to Rose. He stretched his arms out toward a CGI sunset with idiotic glee, with the cold salty breeze (from an electric fan) blasting his pretty face.

"I'm king of the wooooooorld!" Jack shouted.

"Oh please," Jerry groaned. "You're not even smart enough to be the mayor of Schenectady."

"Ugh, you were right. This movie is total crap," Elaine groaned back. "It's only popular for the special effects, and because Leo DiCaprio is every woman's wet dream."

They suffered through another hour of poorly-written period drama dialogue, devouring enough popcorn to choke an elephant. They were somewhat entertained by the love scene in a Renault.

"Those old french cars were real comfortable, with plush silk benches," Jerry said. "It was like fucking on a futon."

"I bet John Jacob Astor went cruising for hookers in that car," George mused.

"Before he went down with the Titanic, and drowned in the ice-cold ocean."

"Poor rich bastard."

Elaine took a long suggestive sip of Sprite, and stroked Jerry's dick through his pants.

"What are you doing, Elaine?"

"Getting frisky, just like Rose," she giggled.

His dick got hard, and she grabbed the bulge firmly.

"Cut it out. You want to get in trouble?"

"You know I love getting in trouble."

He let her stroke it for a minute, while the Renault's windshield got foggy from the nearby steam engines. He finally nudged her hand away. "All right, that's enough. Just watch the stupid movie."

"Ah-ah. I want to have a naughty tryst with you, Sir Jerry."

She stood up and pulled him up the stairs toward the exit. He covered his erection with his coat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise, honey-muffin."

They turned left next to theater two, showing Boogie Nights.

"Damn, I wish we saw that instead," Jerry whined. "Dirk Diggler gets way more pussy than DiCaprio."

Elaine surreptiously opened a door marked "Employees Only," and led Jerry up a flight of stairs toward a door marked "Projection Room."

"Come on Elaine, we can't go in there. We might get arrested."

"No we won't. I used to go out with the projectionist, during my college days. He fucked me in the bathroom at the NYU English department."

"Wow, your college days were a comedy gold mine."

She knocked on the fireproof metal door to the tune of "Shave and a Haircut." It was opened by a grungy thirty-something guy who looked like a conspiracy theorist on The X-Files.

"Hey, Elaine!"

"Hey, Boz!"

"It's been so long since we . . . you know."

"Oh yeah, we had a lot of fun back then. But right now, I've got a little proposition for you. I'll give you twenty bucks to leave this room for twenty minutes, so I can fuck my current boyfriend."

"Damn, you're still a crazy bitch," Boz chortled. "Fine, whatever. I could use the money." He took the crisp bill and jammed it into a pocket in his Nine Inch Nails sweatshirt. "I'm saving up to buy a DVD player."

"Me too. VHS is finally facing its Waterloo," Elaine remarked as she stepped into a room with four flickering film projectors.

"Just don't touch any of the equipment, okay?"

"Don't worry, Bozzie-bear. The only 'equipment' I'll be touching is Jerry Seinfeld's Johnson rod."

"Ugh," he groaned under his breath. "Have fun, I guess."

The projectionist closed the door behind him, leaving them alone in a long dimly lit room, echoing with the sound of film reels racing through projectors at thirty frames per second. Elaine looked around with devious glee, like a kid who snuck into a candy store after closing time.

"Oh man, I always wanted to see a projection room," she said quietly. "The place where dreams come to life." She went over to one of the rectangular holes in the wall above theater one, and gazed down at Titanic, just in time to see a bluish iceberg tear a huge gash in the nine hundred-foot steel hull.

"I feel like I'm in Shock: Latex 2," Jerry mused. "A dark-deco metafictional skin flick."

"The only thing missing is naked-ass people getting it on."

"Let's fill in that blank, Lady Bennis. Mash my banger nice and hard."

She shoved him against that rectangular hole and kissed him like hell while unbuttoning his shirt. His dick was already at full mast for a full minute before she managed to free it from his khakis. She stripped bare, reached into her purse, and pulled out the long black latex gloves she bought earlier at the Wet Panther sex shop in Time Square.

"God damn, that's sexy," Jerry growled as she worked the shiny skin-tight gloves up toward her elbows.

"Now I know how Batgirl feels. Like a kinky fucking skank."

Elaine dropped to her knees on the hard metal floor, grabbed his long hard banger, and "mashed" it with her latex-clad right hand, savoring the earthy crinkling sound of non-vulcanized rubber. She shoved his cock into her mouth while firmly clutching the base of the shaft.

"Oh my fucking god," he groaned softly, trying not to be heard by hundreds of movie-goers below. "I should totally work this into my sitcom pilot."

She giggled with a mouthful, and gagged some more. He grabbed her head and skullfucked her like hell, caught up in the illicit perverted atmosphere. She yanked free of his grasp and waved her latex-coated index finger disapprovingly.

"Ah-ah, you better not cum so soon. I want to make this movie last."

She sucked his balls firmly while massaging his prostate. It took so much willpower on his part not to groan loudly. She pulled out, stood up, stripped bare, and pointed at her hairy crotch.

"Get your lips on these lips, Sir Jerry. I'm one of those feminist dames who demand equal treatment."

"Yes ma'am, Lady Bennis."

He dropped to his knees and performed cunnilingus like a pro. She moaned softly with her ass cheeks against the rectangular hole in the wall.

"Suck that clit as hard as you can, boy."

She smacked his face playfully with the latex, and he tried his best, making an odd gurgling slurping sound.

"Fuck me with your tongue, funny man. Real fast."

He jammed his tongue down her honey-hole and whipped his head back and forth, just as fast as she always went on his dick. Meanwhile in theater one, George and Kramer were captivated by the unfolding disaster, with frigid salt water pouring into the cabins of helpless passengers.

"That's not how it really happened," Kramer said. "The iceberg made a much smaller hole than that, and the water didn't pour right into the ship. It gradually filled the rooms, like taking a cold shower at the New York Athletic Club."

"Hollywood has never been know for realism," George muttered. "They haven't made a decent movie since Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade."

"I thought you loved sappy love stories like this."

"I don't love anything anymore. I'm becoming just like Jerry. I treat women like crap, and my whole life revolves around Superman and cereal."

"Whatever," Kramer muttered with a mouthful of buttery salty popcorn.

Ten feet above their heads, Elaine grabbed Jerry's head with her latex gloves and ground his face into her twat.

"Oooooh yeah, that feels so fucking good. I got you under my thumb, baby. Nice and emasculated."

She finally let go, and marched to the other side of the room.

"Get over here and fuck the shit of me, Sir Jerry."

She assumed the doggy-style postion next to another projector, gazing down at theater two and Boogie Nights. Julianne Moore was getting fucked on camera by Marky Mark from the Funky Bunch, in a 1977 corvette. Jerry Seinfeld jammed his big johnson up her tight hoo-ha, and she moaned in perfect harmony with Julianne, accompanied by a wakka-wakka 70's porno groove tune.