tagChain StoriesThe Worst Chain Story Ever Ch. 08

The Worst Chain Story Ever Ch. 08


Note to reader: This is a chapter of the WORST Chain Story ever – my attempt at trying to write a story worthy of the worstness inflicted on you by the people before me. It is meant to be a humorous take on the Romance part of the chain. It would have been in the Humour and Satire category if it was not a chain story. Now read, and have fun.

* * * * *

Magdalena was really depressed. Despite all her efforts, her husband John could not get any pleasure from sex with her. She so desperately wanted him to feel her. Well, he did feel her, but well, didn't really 'FEEL' her. There's a subtle difference. If you don't know, you shouldn't be reading Romance chapters anyway.

She tried and tried different ways to rouse him, but his relaxed rod refused to respond to her ravishing rack and rapturous rump. Regretfully, she ran out and rapped on her next door neighbour's door to drown her depression in drunken dullness.

Damien, the neighbour, opened the door and Magdalena entered his apartment in a rush, pushing him roughly aside. Running over to an overstuffed chair, she collapsed onto it and started sobbing her heart out.

"Maggie! Maggie-pie," Damien used the fond nick-name he had for her. "What is causing you this colossal distress? Maggie-pie my, please don't cry."

Damien moved towards her weeping hulk and stopped some distance away, wringing his hands together in despair. Moving closer, he placed one shakingly nervous hand on one shoulder lightly. The sobs immediately intensified and Damien wrenched his hand back, even hopped a few feet back.

"Maggie-poo, won't you tell Daddy-Dammie what happened?"

A thin, shrill wail joined the sobbing at this pronouncement.

Damien wrung his hand even more tightly and wondered how he should help her. As he was still wondering, Magdalena suddenly sat up.

"Get me something to drink. Wanna get drunk," she commanded.

Damien rushed to the kitchen and realised that he didn't have anything at home. He stood for a while in the kitchen, wringing his hands and wondering what to do. Summoning up his courage and banishing his embarrassment, he walked out to the still sobbing Magdalena.

"I'll go out and get you something Maggie-pie. There's nothing at home." Immediately turning around to dash off, he was followed by the pathetically depressing howl from Magdalena.

A bottle of wine later, he was rushing home hen he saw an old woman selling roses by the side of the road. He walked over to her and instinctively bought a 36 rose bouquet for Maggie. Then he bought 12 more, just in case. Juggling with the bottle in one hand and the roses in the other, he ran back to his place.

As he was climbing the stairs, he felt the roses start to slip. He caught them with the hand which was holding the wine, but lost his grip and the bottle crashed to the floor! Damien looked at the rapidly escaping wine with tear-filled eyes. His eyes teared frequently. He was a very tearily sensitive person. It was also good for the eyes. Tears really are. They wash of all the grime and dust which gets into your eyes. I guess the blinking lashes do the same but you know, if somehow, a little bit escapes, the tears can get it off! Damien was indeed lucky though he hadn't thought of it that way.

His mood dashed to pieces with the bottle crashing to the ground and dashing into small, small pieces. Damien walked the rest of the way desolately, his feet dragging on the ground with each step and his face drooped – the very picture of misery. Only one thought repeated in his brain – Maggie-pie would be so disappointed. Maggie-pie would be so disappointed. Maggie-pie would be so disappointed. Maggie-pie would be so disappointed. Maggie-pie would be so disappointed. Maggie-pie would be…. Unconsciously, he matched his steps to the rhythm to the refrain with the result that he was walking in weird, shuffling steps.

He entered the apartment and crept forward until he could peep into the room where Magdalena was. She was facing away from him and was apparently not crying. He inched closer and closer… and closer… closer still… and finally, very close. He saw she was asleep. Should I run out and get another bottle? he wondered. His eyes lit up as another, better thought occurred to him and he moved into the kitchen with new enthusiasm.

There, he took out his special recipe. The one his mother had given him. It was a sheet of special, hand-made, thick, off-white paper wrapped in a sheet of thin plastic and stapled in the corner. There were heart shaped cut-outs of red satin trimmed with pink lace all over the edge. Damien treasured it. It was a recipe for Cauliflower Soup – his comfort food. His mother made it whenever he was upset or needed cosseting. It cheered him up and made him feel loved instantly. He would do the same for Maggie.

He stood for a minute, admiring the handiwork and the fine, loopy, cursive handwriting and his eyes welled up with tears again. God! He missed Maman! How he missed her!!

Jerking himself out of the contemplative mood, he set about washing the cauliflower and cutting it into florets and dicing onions. When he had all the ingredients ready, he boiled the cauliflower, adding salt to the water; then blended, mixed, stirred and generally cooked the whole thing. When it was done, Damien ladled it out into two gigantic soup bowls and set them in a wooden tray. Then he took the crystal vase and stuffed two just opened red rosebuds out of the 12 he had bought, carefully fussing with them until he had them arranged just as he wanted them. Placing two snow-white napkins on the tray, he carried it out to Magdalena.

Setting the vase, bowls and the napkins on the table carefully, he went back for the remaining roses. He plucked off the petals from the remaining 10 and scattered them on the table and around the seating area, just in front of the stuffed chair where Magdalena was sleeping. Then he lit several candles around the room, their soft, flickering light reflecting off Magdalena's fine countenance.

Just as he finished the arrangements, Magdalena woke up with a start and sat up on the chair, her eyes wide and her hair mussed up and standing on her head in comical positions. Her mascara was running down in black lines from her eyes from the earlier crying and her vivid red lipstick was smudged in a line rising up her left cheek. But to Damien, she had never looked cuter.

"Did you get something to drink?" she asked him in a gruff, demanding voice.

"No. I mean yes." He gestured demurely to the steaming soup bowls.

Magdalena's eyes travelled to the bowls and a confused expression settled over her face. "What's that?" she asked, not impressed.

"Soup," he replied, in a low, apologetic voice. He didn't know why he was apologetic about it. It was not what Maggie-pie had requested, but it was comfort food!

"What do you mean Soup?" she asked incredulously. "I asked you for…," she stopped in mid-sentence and a far away expression came into her eyes.


She snapped out of the trance. "I guess it's just as well," she sighed and sat down on the floor, next to Damien. Then she noticed the flowers. "Ohh Dearie-Dammie! Flowers? Awwwwwww… how lovely," she gushed.

Damien blushed. Flushed. Brushed his hair back from his forehead self-consciously and murmured a shy thank you.

Magdalena leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "You are so good to me Dammie-Wammie," she said softly.

Damien's eyes filled with tears and he sniffled loudly to keep them from spilling over. "You deserve it Maggie-pie," he said in a choked, shaky voice. "You're such a wonderful person. The most wonderful person I have ever met, far surpassing all others with your nature, your care, your giving attitude towards other people…" he trailed off, seeing that Magdalena was not concentrating but taking tentative sips of the hot soup.

Two spoons later, she choked. Her hands flew up to her throat in a dramatic gesture and she fell back and started writhing painfully. "Ack! Poisoned!" she shrieked. Her accusing eyes fixed on Damien and he rushed to help her. "What did you put in the soup??!"

Damien was petrified. He stood quaking in his pants a few feet away and wondered what to do. The tears in his eyes did spill finally. He desperately wanted to bawl, but seeing Magdalena writhing on the floor before him shocked him into mere silent tears.

"What…" gasp, "What…?" gasp… "What did you put in the damn soup? Answer me asshole," Magdalena yelled.

"It's just Cauliflower Soup Maggie-pie," Damien said tremulously. "I swear…"

"Arrrgghhhh…" Magdalena performed a theatrical twitch which made her breasts jiggle. "I'm allergic to cauliflowerrr…!" she gasped out finally, still clutching her throat.

"OH MY GOD!" The tears were falling in two rivulets down Damien's cheeks now. "I didn't know Maggie-Waggie-Baby-pie." He started wringing his hands and wondered what to do.

Magdalena suddenly started scratching and pulling at her dress. "Get this off me!" she shouted hysterically.

Damien was delighted. Well, he had always wanted to see more of Magdalena.

He rushed forward and tore the dress off her. Magdalena feverishly proceeded to unsnap her bra, freeing her humungous breasts which sprang free to Damien's lustful gaze. With the same tearing hurry, she kicked off her panties, twisting this way and that, giving Damien glimpses of her pussy.

Damien's eyes filled with tears. It had been his one and only wish to see Magdalena naked and now that it was filled, he was overcome with emotion. Teary eyed, he stood there and stared at her magnificent body, covered with red welt-like marks due to the rash which was rapidly developing everywhere. She was so lovely! He sighed and wiped a tear which had escaped the corner of his eye.

Magdalena saw him staring. "What exactly are you staring at?" she asked him in a quiet voice, filling with fury.

"Uhh… nothing," he stammered and raised guilty eyes to her make-up smeared angelic face. "You're beautiful," he breathed. "Absolutely, ravishingly attractive, charmingly striking and gorgeously… gorgeously… err…"

"Pretty?" Magdalena supplied, batting her eyelashes at him shyly.

"Yes! That's the word. The exact word! How did you know Maggie-pie? Do you think…? Could it be possible…? Is there a special relationship between us? How else could you finish my sentence with the exact word I wanted to?" he exulted.

Magdalena lowered her lashes over her eyes demurely. "I think so too," she whispered. She paused for a moment and then, "Oh Dammie!" she breathed, tremulously.

"Oh Maggie!" Damien whispered, his voice choked with emotion and unshed tears. "I have been waiting for this moment for so long."

"Yes, same here. Now could you get me some lotion? The rash is killing me!" she whined.

"Uh? Oh, yes sure." He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with some. "This do?" he asked her, showing the label.

"Anything," she said desperately, snatching the bottle from him.

He left it before she managed to get a hold on it and it crashed to the floor between them, smashing into small, tiny pieces… the lotion oozing out stickily and spreading gradually on to the tiled floor.

Damien stared at it fixedly for a moment and then started crying. Tears ran down his face and a low, keening voice escaped from his lips, which were pressed together in an effort to control himself.

Magdalena was frightened at first, then she realised that Damien was crying. "Awwww Dammie-baby-coochie-poochie-poo. Don't cry, lovey-baby. It's okay… it's not a big deal," she said in soothing tones.

"But… but… your rash…" he blubbered.

"Awww… you're still so worried about me baby," she marvelled. "Listen, let's do something. Listen Dammie," she snapped when Damien did not stop crying.

He immediately stopped.

"You can scoop up some lotion and rub it onto my body if you want to," she continued, batting her eyelashes shyly.

"Uh? Uh? Ahaan? Really?" Damien asked her, unable to believe either his ears or his good fortune, he wasn't sure which.

"Yes, Dammie-baby. Sure," she whispered with a coy smile.

Damien immediately began scooping up the lotion with his fingertips and applying them to Magdalena's ripe body. His touch was light, feathery, causing goose pimples to spring up on Magdalena's body. (These goose pimples were unrelated to Lit.'s official goose, found wandering around on Author's Hangout and the Poetry place, who is rather cute.)

Magdalena wriggled as the light sensations caused by Damien's wandering fingers assaulted her senses. "Ooooh," she said. And also "Aaaahhhhhh."

Damien's fingers strayed over to her breasts even though he didn't want them to. He desperately wanted to stay within his boundaries, but Magdalena saw his dilemma and stretched his boundaries by stretching her legs and then taking his hand and placing it between them.

Now Damien said, "Ooooh." Not to forget, "Aaaahhhhhh." He couldn't believe his eyes, or his hands touching her, or his luck, he wasn't sure which. Maybe all of the above, he thought deliriously.

His hands roamed over her nakedness, rubbing the sticky lotion onto her red, blotchy patches which had blossomed all over her body in angry profusion. Without his being conscious of it, both his hands had strayed over to Magdalena's spread pussy and he was in a trance, with his hands working in slow lazy circles.

"What are all the candles for?" she asked suddenly.

Damien snapped out of the trance. "All the better to see you with, my dear," Damien replied mischievously.

"Eh? Are you out of your mind? Why couldn't you have normal lights?"

Damien blushed and his eyes filled with tears. "I just thought… it's a bit… well, romantic, you know?"

"Awwww Dammie! Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn’t realise. It's lovely."

Damien cast his eyes down to the floor and blushed some more. "You like it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes! I love it," Magdalena breathed.

"I'm glad. It's all for you. You deserve it," Damien said, looking deep into her eyes – the windows to her soul. He saw a yearning, a want, a desire… he wasn't sure what it was but he decided it was for sex because it suited his needs for the moment.

"Let's fuck," he said tenderly.

"Yes, lets," she agreed instantaneously.

Damien shrugged out of his clothes… exposing his manly chest with curly hair on it tapering down into the waistband of his trousers. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark brown hair, and Magdalena forgot to breathe. Next, the trousers came off and well, he had those weird curling hair there too. Not a very pretty sight, but you can't have everything. When he finally took off his underwear, it popped out and…

"That's it?" Magdalena whispered, tremulously.

"Huh? What's that? Didn't hear you."

"Umm… ahhh… nothing. I was just um… ahh… er… admiring… ahem… your… well… your… THAT." Magdalena blushed, a slow profusion of rosy colour seeped down her cheeks.

And Damien blushed too. A slow profusion of rosy colour seeped down his body. "Thank you, Maggie-pie. I'm glad you…" he choked on his words and after a pause tried again. "I'm glad you like it."

Damien was transfixed by her. Her pure, unadulterated, adult-rated beauty. Her casual pose, offering him all she had unselfconsciously. Totally giving, yet needing, but offering and wanting too and also presenting and so loving. She sure was a paradox, thought Damien. Maybe.

"Are you going to stand there and stare?" Magdalena asked him when she saw that he was just standing there, blushing, with the hint of tears in his eyes.

That shook Damien out of his musings and he scrambled over to Magdalena. "No Maggie-poo. I'll give you all you want, and more," he said in a manly voice as he stared deeply into her eyes. (She still had not wiped the smeared mascara but Damien refused to let such a small detail detract from the romantic moment.) Then he suddenly remembered…

He ran off to the kitchen and came out holding the 36 rose bouquet he had got for her. It was quite large. He lay it down on her stomach. It looked very good, and very romantic – the deep red roses were framed by Magdalena's skin, blotchy pink from the rash. A really lovely colour combination, thought Damien.

"Ohhhhh Dammie!" Magdalena whispered. She was truly touched. The flowers touched her, soft. "This is so…" Magdalena couldn't continue. Her eyes filled with tears.

Damien lay down next to her, knocked the flowers off and started stroking her bare, lotion-sticky flesh. The stroking turned to kissing, then to worshipping and then he felt that Magdalena was getting impatient, so he put his hand down to her womanhood and realised she was already ready. So Damien moved his steely salami to her gaping maidenhead and lanced in. He started with a slow, romantic rhythm…

"Uhh.. Dammie… put it in, baby. Yes, now." Magdalena panted.

Damien was confused. It was in. He shrugged. "Yes, dear," he said.

After a couple of thrusts…

"Did you? Is it in yet?"

"Yes, Maggie-baby. You like it, no? My hard phallus thrusting into your soft, velvety, womanly folds Maggie-poo. Ohhh… I've been dreaming of this day for so long and now…"

"God! Damien. Would you stop talking and concentrate?"

His eyes filled with tears. "Yes, dear."

Then they fucked. Damien concentrated. Magdalena concentrated too but despite very hard concentration, she couldn't feel him anywhere inside her. She shrugged, lay there and thought about her cyber lover from England. His strong, broad shouldered build; the perfect six pack she would love to run her hands over; those piercing, sexy blue eyes which stared directly at her nakedness from the webcam; that deliciously big, fat 13'' cock which stood up to attention as soon as she started talking dirty to him… and oh God! That clipped accent in which he whispered dirty words to her.

Magdalena was so involved with the picture in her mind that she didn't hear what was going on with Damien.

"Ohh Maggie-pie-poo-woo-woo! I'm going to empty my love seed into your glorious depths," he shouted and with a few short spurts, did it.

Magdalena became aware of the sudden break in action. "What? Is it over already?"

Damien raised his head and looked into her eyes. "Yes," he said reverently. "The end of a most fulfilling episode…," he paused, blushed, flushed, then continued, hopefully, "…and the beginning of many more to come, I hope."

You wish, bozo, thought Magdalena.

* * * * *

Yo, reader! You actually finished this?! Read through all of it? Oh man! You need help. Or maybe I do… I think. Both of us? I can't decide who. *sigh* Well, anyway, now you're here… try and vote, will ya? Oh, and do the feedback bit too. We author types kind of like it. :)

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