The Literotica Olympics Day 18byCharleyH©
Literotica Olympics: Day 18 is part of a chain story that parodies participating Literotica author persona's and satirises aspects of both writing and the Author's Hangout.
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"The temperature in Athens on Day 18 of The Literotica Olympics is very hot, very humid and very smoggy. In fact, it's downright sweltering, and there isn't anyone who isn't complaining about something," the radio announcer, Edward Teach took a short breath from his usual political rant, and then added, "To quote Bill Clinton . . ."
Svenskaflicka tossed the blond hair out of her eyes, tightly gripped the pillow beside her, and hurdled it through the air at the radio alarm, sending it crashing from the nightstand. At first it muffled the announcer, but then Edward's deep voice shot through the hotel room again.
"I was just looking outside the studio, and went to scan Timoleontos Vassos Street," he paused and opened up his dictionary wondering if he was using the correct literal meaning of scan, got frustrated with how many meanings there actually were, and began again.
"Temperatures have been high in Athens, and down on the street, the crowds are literally jammed." Edward paused again, considering if the word 'jammed' was in fact literal. 'How many meanings could there be?' he wondered, shook his head and resumed his broadcast.
"It's practically looking like the Feminine Mistake Thread, and in the words of Tucker Carlson, conservative co-host of Crossfire, 'it's a total nightmare and disaster'. So, if you want to get to the Athens Olympic Sport Complex on time to see the 100 metre dash, you'd better damn well leave soon."
Svenska rarely listens to words she'd rather ignore because it makes her think too much, so despite the noise of a mob outside, and the advice of the radio announcer, she decided to rely on her good luck to get her to the stadium on time, buried her head under her pillow and fell back to sleep.
The transportation wasn't the only disaster happening on Day 18.
Pop_54, a bit of an old pervert, and organizer of the day's events, had been up since 4:00 in the morning wrestling with a number of Literotica nightmares that had made his rather permanent hard-on a bit on the sluggish side.
He rang up his red haired assistant Colleen Thomas, and they called an emergency meeting in room 69 of the hotel.
Liar, supposedly recuperating from a number of bets he placed during Euro 2004, and recovering from a rather interesting argument with leftover praWns, ducked through the door and waltzed into the room.
Colly and two event competitors, Virtual Burlesque and Tatelou sat suspiciously doing nothing on a large double bed that served as the Literotica round table, while Pop, a parrot perched on his shoulder and pecking his peppered hair, stood by the window.
"Lo, Liar," Pop said like a husky Pirate.
"Lo, lying bastard," his parrot repeated.
"Fraid to admit mate, I didn't call you here for a dirty arsed orgy."
"No fucking," the parrot mimicked.
Liar glanced out the side of his eye, and looked at the clock, "You woke me for nothing? I have a competition in a few hours."
"Fraid not mate, and it's making my willy very, very soft."
Colly stood demurely from the bed, her black dress falling just below her knee. "I am going to preface this statement by saying that the situation eerily reminds me of one of the absolutely awful horror movies that I borrow from friends, although I can't quite decide which one, just know that this is not the worst of it."
"Wishfulthinking, the crazy sweetheart of a slut, was arrested," Pop blurted while lighting a cigarette. "Bloody well caught by those French buggers."
"She was apprehended rushing out of a Prada store in Paris with as many shoes as Imelda Marcos bought in her husband's first day of Presidency," Colly recounted.
A look of poetic melancholy flushed through Liar's eye.
"The horny arsed tart had a hell of a kinky fetish, and while I loved it, it's driven the doll mad," Pop jumped in.
"I am not going to go into details here," Colly promised. "I am just going to say that there isn't another woman to replace her."
Liar sullenly fell on the bed between Burley and Lou.
"Melodramatic poets," Burley rolled her eyes.
"Oh come 'ere, babe," Lou rubbed his back.
"Don't get too cozy there darlin'," Pop looked at Lou.
"Burley, I am just going to say, and it has nothing to do with you, but Summer Morning went celibate at 1:06 this morning," Colly interrupted.
"What the fuck, Ms. Colly!" Burley shot straight up from the bed, her breasts bouncing from her tight, low cut tank, her micro miniskirt clinging to her hips.
"Calm down darlin'."
Pop, Liar and Colly watched her full breasts bounce up and down, up and then settle, while Lou got a full view of her pantiless buttocks, and shaved pussy.
"Um, Dirty Lover will replace him," Pop gulped.
Burley smiled, slightly satisfied and sat back down on the bed, her mini-skirt rising further up her thighs as she crossed her legs.
"Lou, love," Pop sat compassionately beside her, placing his hand on her knee, and slowly, consolingly sliding it up her thigh. "Lewdandlicentious."
Lou turned her head toward Pop, whose eyes affixed to her erect nipples, which were pressing through her tight, white, English flag t-shirt, "What about Lew?"
"His cock is out of commission," Colly calmly stated. "I definitely will NOT go into details here, but it reminds me of this really horrible Japanese eunuch flick that one of my friends lent me."
"Bloody hell it is!" Lou's eyes widened.
"Fraid so love. The dirty bugger got on with a bunch of cock dead lurkers from the General Board, and got himself into a nasty competition after a few pints in the pub. You know how he is about that mammoth cock of his. God damn GBers dared to see if it could stand up to the Olympic pressure."
"Lew's cock is impenetrable!" Like a chick in shock, she refused to believe it.
"Well, that may be darlin', but not even Superman's steel could hold up the twenty, ten pound Olympic rings Lew attempted to hold with that mythic cock of his."
"I didn't want to say it, but he broke under the pressure. If only he hadn't put that last ring on," Colly shook her head, and then sat at the corner table, contemplating.
"Fuck. Typical English behaviour, always putting himself in dangerous positions. How to throw away a gold," Lou ranted. Normally Lou would have been concerned about Lewdandliscentious, but this was a matter of English pride, and she wanted the gold to be hers.
"So who's my bloody replacement?"
"There aren't any lads left on your team for this event, love."
"So sad, Ms. Lou," Burley snickered unsympathetically, licking her ruby lips practically tasting a win on her tongue.
"I'm not trying to present an opinion here," Colly got excited. "But it does strike me that the Olympics are about diversity, the rings like the rainbow of our international gay flag," she suddenly stood proudly at attention, her hand over her loyal heart. "And we 'are' forgetting the gay factor here. Liar still has Dranoel, McFbridge, Cantdog, and Belegon on his team, and you still have Vella_ms, Lucky-E-leven, Honey 123, and Cloudy on your team. The guys, well, especially Dranoel considers himself a devout hetero, but I know the ladies are all ready, willing and believe me," she smiled knowingly, "very able."
"Jesus, Lesbians! I'm up for that," Pop's hard-on began to buldge through his trousers. "Colly darlin', you've got to tell me more, full description, don't scrimp on the detail please."
"Is there going to be spanking involved?" Lou inquired.
"You make the rules, love."
"Mm, indeed! But I'm NOT wearing the dildo," she quickly added.
Liar's masculinity suddenly emerged from his sensitive poetic façade, and he sprung from the bed, towering over everyone in the room. "Hey, I am 'Nor-dick,' for a reason."
"I am going to touch on the fact that you claim to be neutral," Colly smiled sweetly. She was hard to refute.
"Take one for the team, Mr. Liar," Burley sarcastically clichéd, confident that her planned burlesque tease would win the impending race.
"That's right Lad, one poke from a bloke," Pop's cock started to throb.
"Ya, well, which bloke?" Liar grumbled and then conceded.
Everyone looked at each other, baffled because no one knew the answer.
"It's only fair that both you and Lou should be a part of that decision," Colly's mind started turning while visions of fellatio and cunninglus danced in her head.
"I'll have everyone in the garden at the back of the hotel in thirty minutes. Burley, you don't have to be anywhere until the event. Rest up," Colly proudly sauntered out of the room. Pop followed her.
"I think I'm in love," he said, and then turned to Lou and Liar. "See the two of you at half past."
Enthusiastic and eager to play with Lou, four contenders arrived fifteen minutes early. The air was thick with the venomous talons of female competitiveness, after all Lou was an Alpha female, and each of these ladies wanted the whole pie, not just a simple slice.
"Lucky," Cloudy acknowledged.
"Cloudy," Vella nodded.
"Vella," Honey amicably smiled.
"Honey," Lucky politely stated.
There was a moment of intense silence as they all scanned each other's tits, ass and pussies, appreciating the beauty of one another, while their eyes seared malevolently for flaws.
"A new hair colour Cloudy, or is that a wig?" Lucky cooed.
"Au natural, kind of like the extra Lays that Honey just gluttoned back," Cloudy spit.
"Did you just call me fat?" Vella yawned, already tired of the inane conversation.
"Don't think we don't know what it means when you say that Vella," Cloudy elbowed her.
"Oh, you are a spoiled, jealous brat aren't you Cloudy," Honey snapped trying desperately to be mean. "Always trying to get your way."
"Oh, there is no mistaking THAT," Lucky laughed and then POW, Cloudy's wrist flicked and her hand slapped across Lucky's mouth.
Lucky bit into her tongue, which twisted up like a knotted cherry, then she drew her right arm back, and in true Texan style – BIG – she curled her fist, and with all her weight behind her, plunged her arm forward.
Cloudy ducked and Vella's face got in the way.
"You whore," Vella screeched.
"You bitch," Lucky yelled.
"You cunt," screamed Cloudy.
"Dear God," prayed Honey.
Like Catwomen pitted against Batwomen, their painted claws extended, hair exploded into a downpour over the garden, stiletto's kicked, heels mangled, palms slapped, fists plunged.
SMACK! BOOM! BAM! WHAM! SPLAT!
"Lo darlin's, if you can take that a little to the left, into that muddy garden there, I'd be a much harder man," Pop smoothed his hand over the front of his trousers.
All four women froze in their places. Vella's eye puffed, Lucky's mouth bled, a stiletto heel stuck out of Cloudy's side, and a chunk of Honey's hair was missing.
"Bloody Hell!" Lou complained. "First Lew and now this."
"Form a line Ladies," like a fascist about to begin an interrogation, Colly unpredictably took charge. With her hands clasped behind her back, she marched back and forth twice in front of the sirens, looking them in the eyes before inspecting their individual status.
"Say Aww," Colly demanded of Lucky.
"Aww," Lucky opened her mouth wide.
"Swollen, twisted tongue, no good for cunninglus. Step forward three paces Cloudy."
The pain of the stiletto slicing into her flesh forced Cloudy's hip to buckle after her first step.
"No, this won't do for fucking." Colly moved to Vella, stared at her eye, then formed a circle with her thumb and forefinger. "Stick your finger in my hole."
Vella squinted, and missed the target.
"Unreliable for anal."
"Honey, Honey, Honey," Colly walked around Honey's slender, taut frame, and then lifted the long dark hair surrounding the bald spot at the back of her head. Honey flinched.
"Sensitive?" Colly raised an eyebrow.
"A little," Honey lifted her hand, but refrained from touching the missing patch of hair.
"Well, we can work with this if we put it in a ponytail." Colly stepped directly in front of her, raised her thumb and pulled her mouth open. "Your tongue is ok," she stared into her eyes. "You can see," she patted her ass and smoothed her hand across her hip. "It appears you'll be able to move for the duration."
Colly marched in front of Lucky, Vella and Cloudy. "I'm not going to touch on the fact that I do not envy your positions. It reminds me of the truly awful horror films my friends are always giving me, but it seems as though you three 'are' the weakest links. Good-bye."
All three walked away, bloodied, beaten and defeated as Honey sweetly grinned, and condescendingly waved good-bye.
"Colly, hon," Lou motioned Colly with a flick of her neck.
"Yes?" Colly moved closer to Lou and Pop.
"Honey's a love, but I seem to recall when she first arrived at Lit, well, she had barely seen a porn magazine. Does she know how to use a strap-on? Has she ever been in a lesbian scenario?"
"Oh, don't worry Lou," Colly eyed Honey's golden body. "I'll teach her everything she needs to know to be in top form for you."
Not quite as eager, the male contestants arrived fifteen minutes late. The flowers bloomed in the garden, the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the air. McFbridge bent down to smell the tulips, and Pop, looking at his ass, slipped a cigarette from his pack in between his fingers. "Any of you blokes care for a fag? You might need one," he laughed and lit one for himself. "Ah, never mind lads, strip down. Let's get a good look and see how you measure up."
While Lew definitely had the most mythic of Lit cocks, it was a well known fact that all Lit men are more than well endowed, so it was no surprise that not one of them was a razor blade smaller than a foot.
"Me thinks no one read my bio," Dranoel puffed out his chest. "Me knows, I'm a devout hetero, and me is damn proud of it."
"I don't mean to form an opinion Dranoel, but you did take a test prior to this event, and it did confirm that you were indeed 13 percent gay," Colly warned.
"Me knows it proved I was 86 per cent S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T, straight," he spelled out.
Pop laughed, "Guess you didn't read the fine print, mate."
"When you signed up to the Olympics, you gave blanket permission, and quite frankly, this covers a diversity of beds. Besides, everyone says you're an ass man, even you," Colly informed him of the obvious facts.
Dranoel winced, removed his clothes, left his cowboy boots on, and then stepped into the line showcasing himself with the rest of the men.
Colly paced twice in front of the line, tugged up her silky black dress, and slowly, methodically adjusted her garter. "Think of it like American Football, homoerotic, but still manly. O.k., enough discussion about straightness," Colly dismissed Dranoel and stood with her eyes on McFbridge, otherwise known as Mike. "I demand to see 'straight' in the air now."
Their cocks came to attention.
"Mike," Colly's eyes drifted to his eleven-inch cock. You claim you are into non-consent, so I can see you being a good bottom. However, you flirt with the Ladies of Lit more then the rest of them. Can you forget about minge for at least ten minutes?"
'Minge,' Mike pondered then questioned. "The gosling? I didn't realize she was interested," his cock grew another two inches, and his mind started racing.
He was wrongly referring to Minsue who's obsession with Mother Goose had prompted her to make the 'change' from transgoose to full feathered gosling.
"Not the Gosling, mate," Pop lit another cigarette.
"Minge," Mike said again. "Damn, that's just about the hardest riddle I have ever come across."
"Minge, mate," Pop snickered, but Mike continued to ponder.
"Oh forget it, Colly gave up, grabbed his balls, and squeezed with lethal pressure.
"Hey!" his voice rose to a pitch that reminded Colly of that truly awful Michael Jackson horror video, or perhaps it was just Jackson himself.
"O – Key!" he sang out.
"Good boy," she patted him on the head and moved to Cantdog.
"53 percent gay," she smiled and looked down at his cock, and smoothed her hand over his shaft. "With a slick, hard fiery pole. Do you prefer to slide down one, or have yours slid onto?"
"Well," he pondered, not really sure if he should take a side. "I can lift my axe and swing hard, and yet with someone on my ass, I suppose I could spread like a wildfire."
Colly nodded at his diplomacy, then stood in front of Belegon, a bit of a brown-noser, and apparently the only man who was more than eager.
"I'm 33 per cent gay, have dyed my hair, I like ballet, have French kissed a man on a dare, and I visit San Francisco once a year." He leaned near Colly's ear. "The ladies like a man with a little gay inside him," he winked.
Suddenly, there was a screaming in the distance. "You woo! Hey there, wait for me!"
Everyone turned around as Black Tulip sashayed toward them, her hand raised, fingers twittering in the air and breasts bobbing from her ultra low cut halter.
"I heard on the news that Wishful was in jail, and while I had to sneak out of work with a good excuse, certainly not that I was coming to the Lit Olympics because I'd definitely get fired, but I figured out a good excuse. Anyhow, I immediately hopped on a plane, and well boys, here I am," she stretched out her arms, and bent one knee in a pose similar to the famous pin-up girl, Betty Page.
A sigh of relief washed across Liar's face, and the horror dissipated from Dranoel's eyes. Dejected, Belegon looked down and sulkingly kicked his foot across the blades of grass. Cantdog wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder.
The team was now ready for the gun.
Svenska woke up.
"Where's that damn clock," she muttered, got out of bed and uncovered it from underneath the pillow on the floor.
Distress tremoured across her rosy Swedish cheeks, "Oh my God!"
It was an hour before the event.
She scurried to shower, but realized she didn't have time. She hurried to find something to wear, but realized she had brought too many clothes from the e-business. She couldn't decide what to wear. Time ticked, and she didn't have any time to think. She didn't have any time to make a decision. She grabbed whatever was in reach, and rushed out the door onto Timoleontos Vassos Street searching frantically through thousands of lurkers for the trolley.
Wearing rather large 3-inch heels, she heard the rumble of the trolley and tried to run for it. Unfortunately, running and 3-inch heels just didn't compliment Svenska, and she tripped, spinning slowly, as if slumbering in the air until she hit Chilled Vodka who was running from another direction. They crashed to the cement sidewalk with a thud.
CV was wearing the exact same heels and combination of clothes as Svenska, but there was no time for CV to provide his cutting Joan Rivers-like commentary as the trolley doors opened. They scurried to their feet and made a mad dash for the door.
Suddenly, the trolley slammed shut and the two of them crushed into the door as the trolley driver, looking strangely like Boxlicker, watched their faces smoosh into the glass.
In fact it was Box, and he snickered in retaliation for all the years of rudeness he had tolerated on the Lit Boards. He laughed like a maniac and began to slowly, at a snails pace, pull away. He stopped until they caught up, and then teasingly pulled away again.
CV lost it and like the cryptic comments he makes on the story feedback he screamed, "Eek, eek, eek!"
Svenska was a little more direct, her fists pounded on the door as Box stuck out his tongue in a nana kind of way, and drove out of range, "I'm gonna tell God and he'll have you sent to HELL, BOX!"