Split for Sex: Exreme Taboo BDSM Erotica E-Book

Mike Oxlong

• Herausgeber: Taboo Pulp Press
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

oh, shut up, you little punk, before I delete you! You raise the garment's crotch to your lips, sniff those pungent vapors into your nostrils, and start licking up the warm slime. It tastes vaguely reminiscent of a fish sauce Mother made one time, in a sudden outburst of her ordinarily latent culinary instincts.
it's more like soy sauce.
you say that because you're afraid of the truth. That's why I'm writing this, and not you. You could never muster enough honesty for such a task.
says you.
do you know what they just found out about soy sauce. It's loaded with monosodium glutamate, you know. what?
soy sauce.
I mean what did they find out?
that monosodium glutamate causes brain damage in rats.
why do you mention that?
partly to date the narrative, partly to suggest that maybe that's what's wrong with you. All that Chinese food you used to put away.
are you calling me a rat?
well, if the shoe fits...
fuck you.
you're out of character. You never talked like that. this is a special case.

Leseprobe

Split for Sex

Mike Oxlong

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

At the top of one of the flights of stairs he saw a beautiful woman with long black hair. She wore high heels, and a white satin sheath which gripped her flaring hips and moonlike buttocks like thin rubber. She was walking at a slow, sensual pace, swinging her ass from side to side. He could have overtaken her easily, yet he hung back. He grew nervous, and his step faltered. The woman did not look back.

Soon the boy came to a kind of pavilion built on the sidewalk. It abutted a soot-covered wall without windows--a warehouse, perhaps--and over its entrance was a sign that said JESUS SAVES. He went in and saw his friend Cory, whom he had not seen since leaving the old neighborhood several years ago. Cory was shooting pool, running the balls off the table with careless confidence, never a miss. Beside the table sat Julie, a girl the boy had dated a few times last year. She wore a low-necked blouse that showed the crease between her big tits, and she sat on the stool with her legs slightly parted, showing off the black net panties under her skirt. She had teased blonde hair and big brown eyes. The boy went to get a cue stick from a garbage can by the door, but instead lifted a fishing rod from a parked car. It was a deep sea rig, with a big black and chrome reel and a long butt, bound in tarred cod line.

When Cory saw him, he said, "Hey, what's happ'nin', Jack?" in an offhand manner as though he weren't at all surprised to see the boy. He balanced his cigarette on the edge of a corner locket and chalked his tip, ignoring the boy's silence. After he had made his shot, he took a drag off the butt and sighted along his stick, pointing it directly at Julie's pussy. "You never did get any of that, did you, Jack?"

The girl laughed and hugged herself, almost squeezing her tits out the top of her blouse. She wore a black net bra to match her panties, but it only covered the lower halves if her breasts. The boy remembered that she had large, almond-colored nipples, although he had only seen them once. That was when she'd pulled her bathing suit down one day to show him how sunburned she was. "Let me see the rest," he'd said, tugging at the bottom part of her suit. Julie had squealed and run into the water. Later she said he would show him, but not there, with all the people around. "Let's take a walk up the beach." But he said no, he didn't have time, he had to pick up his mother from work. "You want to go to the movie tonight?" he asked. "I guess," she said. "Good. You can show me then." But his mother wouldn't let him have the car that night, and the text time he took Julie out, she wouldn't even let him open her blouse. She let him feel her tits while he kissed her, as long as he kept his hands outside of her clothing. When he put his hand under her skirt, she clamped it between her thighs and told him to stop, but when he stopped she became even more irritable and called him a humiliating name. The next time he'd asked her for a date, she said she already had one, and he'd never gone out with her again. Now, as she bent over the table to take her shot, he saw hat her tits had grown since then. The nipples, however, were still the same color--or at least the left one was; the right one was flattened against the felt so that he couldn't quite see it.

"Sure I did," he told Cory in an undertone. "What do you think?"

"Fine piece of tail, ain't she?" Cory said through a cloud of smoke.

"Oh shit!" said Julie as she missed her shot.

Cory said, "Three ball." He leaned over the table and stroked the cue ball in an offhand manner, light as a feather, straightening up and bringing the stick over his head in a horizontal position. The cue ball rolled lazily up the felt in along curve, slow as molasses, toward the three ball lying dead against the head rail.

This pool hall, as I said, was a sort of pavilion built on the sidewalk. Its peaked roof was supported by a number of square white concrete columns smeared with grease and decorated with graffiti. The front and two sides were open, the back closed off by the sooty brick wall of the warehouse. Through the gloom of dust and debris at the far end of the enclosure came an old woman in a tailored suit and spotless white shoes. The boy was suddenly conscious of his shabby, blood-stained clothing. He turned aside to see Cory pissing on the brick wall. The cue ball was still creeping along on the table, carefully threading its way through the other balls.

"Excuse me," said the old woman, tapping the boy on the shoulder with one finger and quickly withdrawing it as though she bad received a mild electric shock, or had, with apprehension, touched a small, slimy creature of some sort. The boy turned, and the woman smiled down at him. She smiled with her mouth, but not with her eyes, which were cold and gray. "I thought that was you, Johnny," she said.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Frank." He wanted to run away, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He was embarrassed by the sound of Cory's urine trickling down the wall, and Julie made it worse by putting her elbows on the pool table and cradling her chin in her hands so that her half-naked tits hung out over the cushion.

"We missed you in church last Sunday, Johnny." The boy told her that he'd been up in the tower, but she seemed not to hear him. "Sorry you were sick. There must be a bug going around. Are you feeling better now? My Joe's feeling a little under the weather too. Oh, what a shame you had to miss your mother's solo! She sang 'Rock of Ages,' you know. Don't you think she just has the most mahhh-velous voice?

"Yes, ma 'am."

In a sarcastic voice, Julie intoned the same humiliating name she had called the boy last year, but Mrs. Frank didn't seem to hear that either.

Lowering her voice, the old woman said, "Are you lost, Johnny?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, Johnny, you know this isn't the place for nice boys like you. It really isn't. Does your mother know where you are?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"My, what a nice pole you have!" she said, stroking the butt of his stolen fishing rod. "I have a pole, but it isn't like this one." She towered over him, smooth and streamlined, like a large bullet. "Psst! That little hussy there. What church does she go to? Is she Jewish? They dye their hair, you know, so you can't tell. Do you ever hear from your father? Do you like to fish, Johnny?"

"Yes, ma am.

"Well then you simply must come to the church picnic tomorrow! And be sure to bring your pole. All the young people are coming. Oh, but of course! I'm just not thinking today! Your mother already told me the two of you are coming. She's bringing a pie. Or was it a cake? No, I believe it was a pie. I'm bringing the potato salad. It's going to be such fun! We're having it at the preacher's house, down by the lake, so you can fish all day if you like. Won't that be nice? Psst! Johnny, what is that young man doing?"

"Uh... I don't know, Mrs. Frank."

"He's taking a piss," said Julie, squeezing her tits together so that the crease between them deepened and reached up to her throat.

Just then, Cory turned around and faced them, shaking off his long, flaccid prick. His cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he swaggered back to the table, pausing on the way to tuck his member in and zip his fly. He tossed his long blond hair out of his eyes, scrutinized the rolling cue ball and squinted at the dead three, which lay in wait against the rail. He blew a smoke ring, and it settled down around the right corner pocket at the foot of the table.

The boy stepped out of the shadow of the old woman and walked up behind Julie, pressing the bulge of his cock into the crack of her ass. She tittered with pleasure and snuggled against him. A curtain of gloom, similar to coal dust, closed in around the table so that he couldn't see Mrs. Frank. He hoped, though, that she could see him, and he had a feeling that she could. He pulled the tail of Julie's blouse out of her skirt, then drew the front of it down tightly over her breasts until they popped out of the neckline and hung free, except for the wisps of nylon that adorned them. He raised his hands and cupped them over her big tits and felt the hot, soft flesh bulge between his fingers as she inhaled. Her nipples got hard, and drilled into his palms, and the cheeks of her ass opened and closed delightfully on his twitching cock. She reached back and opened his fIy, and then with her other hand she reached between her legs and pulled his naked member out against the soft, damp cushion of her crotch. He could feel her moving flesh through the nylon net, opening and closing... .

There was a faint click, and the boy looked down to see the three ball wobbling aimlessly back down the table. The cue ball was doing ponderous pirouettes just off the head rail. He had the sickening feeling that the momentum which was supposed to drive the balls had leaked away, and that they were being moved now by some vast unseen force, as though caught in a sluggish current of thick syrup or magma. It was with a great effort that he tore his eyes away.

"Unhook me, willya, sugar?"

Julie had already slipped out of her blouse and was in the process of pulling her panties down. The boy released the hooks of her bra, removed it, then refastened it, hooked it over one thumb and shot it into the air like a rubber band. It climbed high into the dark cloud and then floated slowly down, like a big black spider or the skeleton of a parachute.

Julie tucked her skirt up into her belt and turned to one of the concrete columns. Across its face someone had drawn an enormous cock in red crayon; it was covered with telephone numbers and dirty words and airplanes going down in smoke; in place of testicles, a pair of tits was drawn in. Her arms straight out before her, Julie flattened her palms against the column, her body inclined forward, her feet set well apart. Her left hand was on the head of the giant penis, her right on the scribble of pubic hair at its root. The boy bent his knees and guided his prick up into her fuzzy hole. Inside, she was moist and alive. Everything was moving in there. "It's like putting your hand in a sack of worms," he thought. As he got a grip on her big sweaty tits and began moving his member in and out of her squirming snatch, he noticed these words scrawled on the column just below the picture of the cock: Hey, Claude, let's untie him.

The huge red three-ball came drifting erratically toward him through the green meadow of woolen fur. It meandered a little to the left and crept up, heavy as death, to the brink of the right corner pocket. It teetered on the edge. Cory blew another smoke ring. The green fibers of felt seemed to wave lazily back and forth like sea grass.

Further down, the column said, He's ready, man.

A voice from beyond the screen of darkness, possibly Mrs. Frank's, said, Get away from him, you little whore! Stop doing that! Trudy's got firsts on him!

The boy asked Cory if he'd ever done it with a newspaper--"a rolled-up newspaper?"

"Shut up and shoot," replied Cory.

Later, they were in a car, he and Cory and a girl--a hitchhiker, apparently. An anonymous man was driving; call him X. They were following the woman with the long black hair.

CHAPTER TWO

The terrain was mountainous and the road was steep and treacherous, full of hairpin turns and vertical undulations. The hitchhiker took the boy's hand and pulled it up under her skirt. She was wearing a red dress and black mesh stockings. The stockings were secured just above her knees by elastic garters decorated with tiny red-roses, and a slit in the side of the tight skirt revealed the bare white skin of her thigh all the way to the hip. The mass of hair between her legs--she wore no panties--reminded the boy of a Persian cat he'd once owned. The cat had slept in bed with him until she had her kittens. Her name was Sim-sim. He worked his fingers through the long, thick fur until he touched the raw meat. Inside her cunt was a lump of hot flesh, and when he stroked it the girl turned to him and inserted her tongue in his ear, and her saliva ran down his neck. The cat had had her kittens in his bed, and then she had eaten them. That was why they'd gotten rid of her.

The woman sitting beside X said, "I want her put to death."

The hitchhiker breathed in his ear, "Deeper! Oh, get it in deeper!"

The boy pushed his whole hand into her cunt, except the thumb. Her juice squirted over his palm in warm little jets, and she said in a voice which only he could hear, Oh, I've waited so long for this! The boy's thumb stuck straight up from the top of her slit, and her skirt was stretched over it like a tent--a red tent like the exterminators had put over the house when they killed the roaches. Now, drawing her skirt up above her cunt, she spit into her hand and began to stroke his thumb with rapid up and down motions of her fist. Even in the dim light, he could see the blood accumulating under his thumbnail.

"Oh, damn you, you little bastard!" said the girl, jerking her hand away. "You've gotten blood on me!"

"It wasn't my fault!" the boy cried, bursting into tears. "I begged her not to have the roaches put to death! I begged her!"

"It happened in your bed, and you did nothing to stop it!"

"I did too! You're a liar! 1 did too!"

She pressed her soft breast against his arm and stroked his cheek, saying, "Oh, poor baby, don't cry. Here. Kiss away the bad words." She stuck out her tongue, and the boy kissed its tip. It came further out of her mouth, and its edges curled up like old newspaper, making it tubular. It forced its way into his mouth and he wrapped his lips around it and sucked it like a straw. The sucking made a rattling noise, like when you come to the bottom of a milkshake. She made her head go back and forth, and the long, thick tongue went in and out, in and out, faster and faster, until saliva spurted out the end of it and filled his mouth and nose. It tasted sweet and warm, but it burned his nostrils and made his ears pop. It was probably the elevation, though, that made his ears pop.

"Pull out your thing," said the girl, "and I'll play with it for you."

"Right here in the car?" the boy whispered. "The others will see."

Go ahead, Trudy. Don't mind us.

This is a sacred rite. You make it seem vulgar.

Sacred rites are always vulgar.

"I will when we're in the tunnel," said the boy.

The road took a sudden dip down a steep decline which led to the mouth of a dark tunnel beneath a huge stone cathedral with towering Gothic spires.

"Would you like to see my tits?"

"Yes."

She straddled his lap and tossed her hair to the side, placing her forehead on his shoulder. "Unzip me," she said. The boy undid the catch at the nape of her neck and opened the back of her dress. She straightened up and hunched her shoulders, grinning down at him. "Go on. Pull it down, sugar. Wait till you see them." He hooked his fingers in the top of the dress and drew it slowly off her shoulders. The sleeves slid off her upper arms, revealing the depth of her shadowy cleavage. When he peeled the thin silk from her nipples, her breasts leapt straight out at his face as though they were spring-loaded. They were smooth and heavy against his cheeks. She took a deep breath, and they closed in on him as the car plunged into the tunnel.

He felt her hands fumbling in his lap, and then she had his pants open and his cock between her palms, rolling it to the left and right as one rolls a lump of clay to make it cylindrical. He felt his cock getting very long and slippery, and the long hair between her legs tickled his balls. Her naked buttocks began to roll to and fro on his thighs, and then her grasping flesh was slithering up and down the underside of his member. She pressed it into the gooey groove with her fingertips, and in the rushing darkness he felt her sex juices flowing down around the top of his scrotum like molasses. She began to pant, and her breasts grew tumescent. She thrust a nipple into his mouth; it was as long and stiff as a stubby pencil. He ran his tongue around the perimeter of the swollen areola until it began to twitch and pulsate like a penis, and something thin and hot jetted into his throat...

Suddenly the darkness was gone, and the tunnel was bathed in garish electric light.

Must you have that on?

You bet your sweet ass!

They were now in heavy traffic, and the boy turned his head to see an old woman peering down into the car from the window of a bus. Her eyes were open wide, and her hand was over her mouth. The boy peeked up at her over the hitchhiker's tit, trying unsuccessfully to stop the copious flow of milk by pressing his forefinger to the end of the nipple.

"Look at that old bitch gawking," said X.

"Let's give her something to look at," replied the woman in the front seat, hoisting her skirt and pulling off her panties. She squatted on the seat and thrust her ass out the window. The old woman look a pair of spectacles from her purse and put them on. Everyone laughed, even the boy. Then X put the top down to give the people in the bus a better look, and Cory took off his pants. He climbed over the seat and straddled the woman's back, holding his prick up for the old lady to see. It was erect, but very small--only a quarter the size of the boy's. Holding onto the woman's narrow waist, Cory bent over, his hair flying in the wind, and began licking the crack of her ass, making nasty noises with his mouth and rubbing, his little prick up and down on the back of her dress. Her shrieks of pleasure echoed through the tunnel.

Turning sideways under the wheel, X took out his penis and began to masturbate, steering with his left hand. Cory was now balanced on his knees atop the sill of the car door, his face buried in the woman's cunt. He sucked and slobbered loudly, and yellowish froth streamed away on the wind. X swung his arm over the seat and held his cupped palm up to the hitchhiker's face. She spit into it several times, and he smeared the saliva on his cock for lubrication, aiming it at the woman's face and pumping faster than ever. But the old lady in the bus seemed to take no notice of all this; her cold gray eyes were locked on the boy--and especially on his terrific erection, which jutted up out of the hitchhiker's wind-tossed cunt hair like a huge peeled sausage, impossible to conceal. At the moment when X's semen started spurting into the face of the woman in the front seat, the old lady bared her teeth and held her purse up to the window. The purse looked like a small, furry animal of some kind, with some of its limbs eaten away. Now she tore it open, and out of its belly came a swarm of black roaches. They streamed out of the bus and descended on the car in a great, crawling, chirping cloud of darkness, and the boy screamed in terror... .

At last they broke from the tunnel and sped away up the mountainside. The air was thin and crisp, and there were only a few cars on the road. The girl lifted her buttocks from the boy's thighs and started his prick straight into her hole. Tiny hands seemed to play about the rim of its head--tiny hands of warm, raw meat--and her seething juices ran heavily down the shank.

She's going to fuck him.

Look out, cherry, here comes Trudy!

Shut up!

The boy hooked his fingers in her garters and toyed with the little roses.

"Ready, sugar?"

"Ready, bitch."

"Here I come, then." And with that, the girl sat down hard, spindling herself on the boy's cock. He sat still and watched her big round breasts bob as her ass rose and fell. Cory and the woman watched from the front seat.

As X pulled out to pass a car, a semi loomed up on the curve ahead and came bearing down on them at the speed of a freight train. Right behind the truck was a long black sedan, following close. The road here had been blasted out of the face of the mountain, so that to their right a sheer wall of raw rock soared out of sight overhead, and to the left a steep wooded slope dropped thousands of feet into a cloud-filled gorge. They were fender to fender with the car in the right lane, and it matched X's every change in speed with diabolical precision, like a mirror image. The grill of the semi now filled the entire sky, and just at the instant when collision seemed only a split second away, the huge truck roared off the road to their left, and the sedan behind it, as though made of rubber, leaned toward the center. X closed his eyes and shot through, miraculously.

But now the car was out of control. It was suddenly raining, and they were slipping sideways toward the precipice. The glistening pavement curved away into the streaming gloom like a long black fang. X was contemplating the floorboard with a sort of detached frown, pumping the limp brake pedal as though trying to get to the heart of the problem.

"Aha!" he said triumphantly. "No brakes!"

The boy looked at the steering wheel. It was spinning freely, its spokes a blur. Up ahead, the road hooked abruptly to the right, and he could see nothing but a yawning void beyond. Just before hitting this curve, the car slid up a slight hump--which at their present speed was more like a ski ramp--and sailed off into the rain.

Up, and up, and up...

Far below, through a ragged hole in the silvery mist, the boy could see the ancient, twisted trees at the bottom of the gorge, pointing upward like spikes. He and the girl Had their arms tight around each other, gasping with fright. As the car reached the top of its trajectory, it began to revolve heavily in a clockwise direction, and the whole valley spun drunkenly upward.

This is it!

But somehow they came down smoothly on the road again, skidded up another ramp, and took to the air once more. This time the boy forced himself not to look down. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something pleasant. It would have been well if he could have remembered some of the good times he and his friend Flemming had had the previous summer, before they began going out with girls; like the time his Uncle Farley Smollet rented a rowboat and took the two of them up the lake to Stone's Island to spy on the girls who went there on the weekends to sunbathe in the nude. How brightly those naked bodies had shone in the sunlight! The three of them had lain low in the bushes just west of the terrace of the old ruined mansion, and watched the girls spread their towels around the base of the Dragon Gate, then remove the tops of their bathing suits, stretch, lie down and smear each other's bodies with suntan lotion. He remembers even now how he rearranged his erect penis in his trunks so that it lay up along his belly, and how the warmth of the sand made a pleasant sensation [...]