The Perfect Fuc

Two years ago, Chelsea had been Eugene's "Slug Queen." You see, rainy Eugene's annual parade is called the Slug Festival. Back then, Lance had been an eighteen year old Ford salesman. He remembered seeing her waving from the float, her low-cut pink dress, showing off her almost freakishly large tits, smiling at the crowd in that sluttily innocent way of hers. He had known her in high school and had always had a crush on her, one he was too shy to follow up on.

Now, he was the new head manager of the Porsche dealership and he had her, his new 18-year old secretary, in the passenger's seat. They had just seen the second Matrix, which had surprisingly only slightly bored him. And she was all abuzz about it. "That rave scene was so sick," she said. "I love the Wachowski brothers."

No contemptuous smile appeared on his face. Actually, the rave scene had rather annoyed him. He was no racist but he didn't see why the majority of this rebel society was black. This society seemed to think that being black was a requirement for being cool. But he had fully attained Zen; two years ago, he had promised himself that he would fuck her. He was taking aim; the movie didn't matter.

"Yeah, those vampire bros were pretty hip," he said in his deep voice as he brushed his long, blonde hair back behind his ear.

After a moment of silence, Chelsea said, "Nice car." This time he did smile with amusement; beautiful girls got away with the dorkiest comments. And the funny thing was that it charmed him so much. She didn't have to be cool; she didn't have to be smart. It was just so nice to hear her chatter on in her lilting voice.

"Yeah," he replied. "She's a plain Cayenne; I would have preferred the Cayenne Turbo but I'm trying to be smart with my money. I bought all kinds of insurance instead."

"Oh," she said in an indifferent way.

There was a silence that lasted a little too long so he said, "This baby has 229 pounds of Torque per foot. That's pretty sick," he said, using her word.

"And it has such a nice interior," she said, looking at the leather seats and the specially ordered Koa wood paneling. Lance was a practical man; in the past year, he'd donated ten thousand dollars to Green Peace and then he'd ordered an endangered Amazon wood for his paneling. He looked over and saw a sparkle in Chelsea's doe eyes.

Upon arriving at his town-house, he took her leather jacket with the Rancid sticker on the back. "What kind of drink would you like?," he asked her.

"Can you make a 'Cosmopolitan?,'" she asked.

"I don't have any cranberry juice. I can make you a mojito, a margarita, a screw-driver..."

"I'll have a screw-driver," she said. He smiled at her and she smiled back, her full lips so suggestive without even trying to be. He got a bag off the coffee-table and handed it to her.

"I thought you might want to get stoned. That's "Hawaiian Blueberry, top grade," he said.

"Thank you," she said, giving him 'the look.' As he walked away to fix the drinks, he felt perhaps as good as he ever had. The dragon was slain; the slug queen was his.

He came back with his margarita and her screw-driver. She was still at the bong. She'd once dated a dealer but she'd never seen this quality of weed before. The living room, decorated in forest green and lilac seemed so tranquil and yet so exciting. She hadn't smoked pot in a week so she was hit with the full bliss of the ice bong, which his butleress had prepared.

"Do you wanna hit?" she asked.

He took a small and then sat down with his drink. He drank in earnest, downing about half of his large margarita before looking up at her again. She was staring at a dragon poster and obviously in her own world. It was a rare still moment and he took advantage of it to really look at her. She was wearing the Nirvana Inutero shirt, drawn taut over her huge, firm tits. She was wearing a very short, pleated jean skirt and leopard panties, all over Doc Martens. She also had on the green and purple dragon fly earrings he had given her, which cost far more than the rest of her ensemble.

If he'd had to, he couldn't have explained his feelings for Chelsea. He'd never felt so strongly about a girl before. But though he did have some tender feelings for her, it wasn't really love. It was an all-inspiring lust. The thought of her had helped him close out so many deals, lifting him up the rankings. It had carried him through night college business courses.

He put down his drink with deliberate gentleness. "I tell you what, Chelsea, I want you to do anything I ask you tonight. I've done a lot for you in the past couple months. I saved you from Taco Bell; I lied about your drug test; I increased the salary of the position. And I'll never let you go, no matter what, as long as you let me screw you. Deal?"

"Yeah," she said, turned on by his boldness. There was an almost invincible aura about him.

He took her hand and led her to his bedroom. The sheets on the bed were forest green, and already pulled back. He took her hand in his, her pink nail polish fueling his excitement. Running his hands through her soft brown hair, he kissed her. Her mouth was so sweet. They kissed again and again; he ran his hands down her back to just above her butt.

Gently, he moved her down to the bed, kneeled in front of her and untied her Doc Martens. They could hear each other's heavy breathing. Gently, he pulled each of her leopard socks off. To her surprise, he bent down and licked between a few of her toes and then sucked on her big toe, which was soft, beautiful and painted a candy blue. After a minute of this, he rose and said, "Stand up." She did and he unbuttoned and then unzipped her jean skirt, letting it fall on the ground. "Take your shirt off," he said in a gentle but commanding way.

Then, in a simple way, he quickly stripped all of his own clothes off, revealing an athletic, muscular body that had nonetheless had a sophisticated beauty to it. With pleasure, he saw her eyeing his well developed abs. He pushed her onto the bed and started kissing her. Then he moved straight down to her leopard panties. As he did so, he got a full glimpse of her body, so much more beautiful in just bra and panties. Now, he was in front of her cunt, that long-desired treasure and he could smell its wetness, that all transcending, living smell of cunt. He set to lapping the fairly thin panties, catching her taste. He licked her snow white inner thighs and lapped at the places where the thin panties gave way to flesh. With excitement, he let his tongue dance with the oh so slight pussy stubble. "Roll over," he said in a firm tone.

She did, revealing that ass which had captured his imagination so entirely. She had a very full ass, soft and sexy but firm. It fit perfectly her into her voluptuous shape. And there it was, the leopard strap disappearing into its whiteness. He took his time and licked the beautiful globes. He spread them and licked the thin strap. Then, he grabbed the strap between her pussy and her asshole, put his fingers into the side of her panties, strongly pulled them off and tossed them behind him, not caring where they landed. "Stick your ass out more," he said in that deep, commanding but not harsh voice that was making Chelsea wetter by the moment. She stuck her chubby ass out as much as she could. He pushed his long tongue against the back of her cunt and the taste was as electrifying as he had expected. But then he let it lap toward her asshole. His strong hands pulled her cheeks apart and he pushed his tongue into her asshole.

He pushed it far in and licked that tight, dark-tasting chamber. He encountered a couple, small pieces of shit so he pulled back but kept licking inside her tight sphincter, which wasn't as puckered as most girls, but more like a tight, black pearl, begging invasion by a strong conqueror. He pulled his tongue out and let it run up and down her sweaty crack, kissing her sphincter. Then he pushed his thick index finger against her hole, firmly but slowly driving into the sluttiest part of her sexuality. He fished one and then the other piece of shit out, making her moan. Then he stuck his tongue back in her butthole and licked away, tasting the inside of her dirtiest hole. While he tongue-bathed her, he reached forward and masturbated her huge clit. "Oh yeah, lick my ass," she moaned in her highest voice. He did so even more furiously and masturbated her to a controlled, twitching orgasm, which she mouthed under her breath in a deeper tone.

After letting her rest for a moment, he said, "Roll over." She did and spread her treasure for him. Her cunt was large, entirely shaved and of the softest shade of pink. It was very wet now, the split slightly agape like an orchid welcoming a bee. He briefly kissed his way up her inner thigh, smelling her cheap perfume mixed with the damp smell of cunt. Then he slid his hands under her chubby ass and pushed his tongue into her wet, tight hole. "Oh, yeah. Mm... Please," she moaned as he licked and licked, twisting his tongue around to touch every side of her sex hole.

After a few minutes of cunnilingus, he got up and bold pressed himself in between her legs. He let his left index finger penetrate her wetness just slightly to feel the target. Then he located the head of his thick, eight inch cock right up against her wet cunt. He felt the wetness and the resistance as he started to push into her. He just pushed right on through, lancing his huge dick right into her awesomely tight cunt. He had the feeling that these kinds of experiences are what life is all about. He started to fuck her slowly but firmly; he had no intention of making love tonight. He speeded up his pace, his powerful abs nailing Chelsea into the soft mattress, his big hands holding her butt, keeping her from pulling away. She moaned in that almost guttural, slut kind of way.

He felt so liberated and free. He just pounded her like the bitch she was. "You're such a hot little girl," he said during a pause. She giggled and smiled big, revealing gleaming canines. He got right back to fucking her. She was awed by his buff shoulders and pecs and she loved being screwed with such power, coordination and passion. She just kept giggling and moaning, letting out all her feminine energy to match his masculine aura. She wrapped her legs around her pack and pulled herself toward him, loving the feeling of his huge tool in her jelly insides. She gasped as he reached down with his left hand and petted her slippery clit. She moaned and clenched her legs as she came.

Driven on by her baby soft legs and animalistic moans, he pushed her onto the bed and started to really nailing her; her ass felt magical in his hands, her tight, sopping cunt mystically sexy. He stopped for a moment to suckle then bite her nipple. Then he kept on riding her, hard like he had once fucked whores in Thailand. She was in perfect harmony to his spirit, surrendering her body entirely to viciously strong yet basically gentle man. He felt his thrill growing more and more powerful as he just totally lanced this incredibly sexy chick. Without even thinking about it, he pushed as deep as he could into her slutty wetness and let a small river of cum rush into her.

He effortlessly pushed himself and looked over this creature beneath him. Their eyes locked in a moment of perfect afterglow. They were each captivated by the other's eyes, his a mysterious greyish-blue, hers a shiny, delicate hazel, the green coming out them in the rush. He could see one of those twinkling dragon-fly earrings; her breasts were a perfect combination of softness and firmness. They sat some twenty seconds like this and then he slowly pulled out his just ebbing tool, being careful not to hurt her. Then he took her in his arms, holding this delicate but powerful creature against his strong heart. He stroked her back tenderly with his fingers. She nuzzled him into him with affection, but not with love. He was glad that he didn't feel any love there.

He put on his pajamas and offered her a pink pair, bought especially for her. He tied his long, sweaty hair back. He lit up a joint and they passed it back forth, not saying a word. Lance took a certain pleasure in the sight of her sitting on his bean bag, obviously happy, the front of her hair gleaming with sweat. He imagined her pussy full of his come, a little bit starting to leak out her relaxed, splayed legs. He didn't know if she was on birth control and it didn't really matter. Ja would steer. But he had no intention of living with her, now or in the future.

"Play me something on the guitar, she said, pointing to an acoustic he had propped up. He happily obliged her, taking Excalibur(a thousand dollar Les Paul) and played and sang dead songs. They both drifted away into completed calm, the simple beauty of the room, the magic of the Dead, and their two spirits, awakened to the volcanic power within.