The Exploding Rainbow

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Nympho offers aid to insane vagrant.
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The face on the WANTED poster undulated like an acid dream. Warps in the weathered paper made it bulge. Even without this distortion, the police sketch was menacing. The wanted man had a lecherous leer, a face crisscrossed with scars, and eyes that seemed to look in all directions at once.

A dark-haired woman strutted by with a sack of groceries in her arm. Her attire - fishnet stockings, mini-skirt, and a flimsy blouse - was noticeably scant for the brisk fall day. When she saw the poster she walked over and examined it carefully. Beneath the fugitive's face was a list of the crimes he had committed. She bit her lip. She couldn't say whether the list of crimes was complete, but the sketch itself was accurate. She knew this because the fugitive was hiding out in her house.

Two weeks ago - in the desperate hour before dawn - she had been woken by a knock at her back door. Through her bedroom window she could see a helicopter searchlight sweeping across her lawn. She ran to the kitchen, opened the back door, and beheld the fugitive standing on her doorstep. She shouted at him to get inside and slammed the door a second before the searchlight sliced across her back step. When the fugitive asked her later why she had let him in, she said it was because he had an innocent face. Paradoxically, she added that she liked to root for the bad guy.

In the weeks that followed the fugitive mostly kept to himself. He spent the majority of his time sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall. He'd eat whatever food she put in front of him, chewing while looking straight ahead. After dinner he'd stumble into the living room and collapse on the couch. His sleep was always restless. He mumbled and twitched with spasms. In the mornings he'd awake with a shudder as if shaking off a bad dream and then stagger back to the kitchen to continue his staring. The woman let him have his space and he let her have hers -- with one notable exception: Whenever a loud noise broke the silence, he would be seized by a sudden fury. In these tense moments he ceased to view the woman as an ally and instead saw her as a wily opponent who had somehow orchestrated his capture. He would then corner her and demand to know the secret of her true identity. These outbursts all ended the same way, with the fugitive bending his captor over a piece of furniture and fucking her into submission. The woman blinked as she remembered the most recent episode, hoisted the bag higher on her chest, and continued home.

Several blocks away, the fugitive was seated at the kitchen table, staring at the wall as always. He stared at it with such intensity that it broke apart, dissolving to reveal a limitless universe beyond. Stars spun like wreckage in a cosmic whirlpool. Chunks of the kitchen wall hurtled into this starry abyss. A knife slid across the table. As the fugitive peered into the cosmic maw his mind reeled. Time is an endless ocean, he muttered. And its froth gives birth to all manner of evil. He opened and closed his hands. Somewhere in the vast expanse the Beast lurked, dragging its tail through the ether. The fugitive shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them again the kitchen wall was intact, the knife was back on the table, and the cosmic maw had vanished. He touched the knife to make sure it was real.

Suddenly the door crashed open, causing him to jump. The dark-haired woman stomped into the room and put her groceries down on the counter. She started to unpack her bag when a gunshot - or something resembling a gunshot - erupted from outside.

She spun on her heels but the fugitive was already upon her. One of his hands clutched a fistful of her hair. The other held the knife to her throat. Before she could say anything he gave her hair a sharp tug.

"Not one peep," he hissed.

She looked at him with unblinking eyes.

"You know what I do with enemy spies like you?" he asked in a gruff whisper.

The woman nodded, because she knew all too well. The fugitive moved the knife down to her blouse. There was a flick of the blade and the sound of buttons clattering to the floor. He dropped the knife and tore off her bra, letting her breasts flop forward.

"Hold still," he rasped. He put his mouth on one of her breasts and began to suck roughly. The woman tilted her head back and sighed. The whites of her eyes sparkled through half-closed slits. Another gunshot pierced the air.

The fugitive took his mouth from her nipple, which grew suddenly cold. "You think you've got me cornered, don't you?"

The woman nodded again, breathing heavily.

"You think that just because you're sexy you can get away with anything? Is that it?"

"That's right," she said.

Another gunshot echoed through the kitchen, intensifying the fugitive's frenzy. He unzipped his pants and shook them off his feet while the woman waited. His erect cock jutted out defiantly. He dragged the woman across the room and bent her over the kitchen table. He pressed a hand on her back and used his other hand to yank up her skirt. The dark-haired woman wasn't wearing any underwear so her ass and pussy were exposed.

"Wait a second!" she shouted. "There's Crisco in the bag!"

The fugitive pulled back dutifully and walked across the room with his penis bobbing up and down. He rummaged through the grocery sack, found the container of Crisco, tore off the lid, and rubbed a dollop on his dick. Then he ran back across the room and positioned himself behind the prostrate woman, holding one of her butt cheeks open with a calloused hand. He put the head of his cock against her anus, bent his knees slightly, and then slammed into her rectal passage with the speed of a man who knows he only has seconds to live.

"Fuck!" the woman cried out. She grimaced as the fugitive proceeded to plow her tight ass with long hard strokes. "Holy fucking shit!" she screamed. It felt like she was being impaled. The fugitive grunted and sank his teeth into her shoulder. He fucked her like an animal.

But this lasted for less than a minute. The gunshots outside stopped. In the silence that followed the fugitive's pace began to slacken and his thrusts came with less and less verve. The woman bucked against him to keep up the friction. She reached back and grabbed his hips to pull him into her, but it was a lost cause. After one final stroke the fugitive succumbed to a shudder and slumped forward, letting his belly rest on the small of her back. After a few heavy breaths, he pushed himself back, sliding out of her ass with a wet slurp, and sat down hard on the kitchen floor.

"What happened?" He looked around with watery eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

The woman's face twisted with disgust. She had been on the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm and this no-good bum had run out of steam. The fugitive looked around dejectedly and then began to cry. It was a soft blubber that sounded like it came from a child. Each episode pushed him closer to the edge. The woman was sure of it. She suspected he only had a few more fucks left in him before he completely lost his mind. Look at him now, she said to herself. Sobbing like a goddamn baby. Soon he'll be a vegetable and then he'll be totally worthless. That's when I'll call the cops.

The woman went to a closet, got a bathrobe, and tied it around her waist with a huff. Then she kicked open the back door, letting in a sharp burst of light.

She stomped down the back steps and walked around the corner of the house. Some children were sitting on the grass beneath the kitchen window, surrounded by the motley shreds of exploded balloons. It looked as if they had slaughtered some rainbow-colored beast and skinned its hide on the lawn.

"What the hell happened?" the woman shouted. "You still have half a bag of balloons!"

"We're tired," the children cried. "Our lips hurt. Can we go play now?"

"No!" The woman's voice was shrill. "I paid you ten dollars to get through the whole bag. Now you catch your breath and blow up the rest of those goddamn balloons! And start doing it faster! I don't want any more gaps."

The children sighed and reached for the half-empty bag. The woman stomped back inside. The slam of the kitchen door served as the first explosion.

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3 Comments
VictorDoUrdenVictorDoUrdenover 13 years ago
Lol

It was an ok story and I had a good giggle at the end.

angiquesophieangiquesophieover 15 years ago
lovely

wonderfully wacko story; lovely ending. thanks.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
woah

woah !

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