by Kurt Knox
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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The wolf leaps at you, fangs bared. You close your eyes and ready for your end… but instead of getting your damn face chewed off, you get a tongue in your mouth. A person tongue!
You open your eyes to see the wolf has switched places with a naked female. This shit is like a cement mixer full of cheese, i.e. it makes no sense. The female’s mad hot though, even with all that blood all around her mouth. Why does she have blood around her mouth? Thinking about it, it’s probably from the torn up body of the club honey, whose corpse is lying face down in the gutter. Never mind that though, no sense letting unwanted details spoil a good time. Like a poorly concealed bruise on a porn star’s throat, better to push it out of your mind and move on with your business.
With that in mind…
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Demolish the female with your awesome lovemaking.
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Make your excuses and go to the strip club.
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Go to the laundrette.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You down the White Russian and the broke-ass dancer smiles.
‘Good choice,’ she says. ‘Now how’s about a world-class slobber job?’
Well?
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Bone appétit!
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Sure. But slip on a condom first (if you have one in your inventory).
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You down the Black Russian and the dancer makes a face like E. T. chewing a thistle.
‘I might have known you’d take it black,’ she says.
Suddenly you don’t feel so good. Sick in the stomach. Lightheaded. Did that crazy ho put something in your drink? The world turns wonky. Gets to fading. The last thing you see before the lights go out is the broke-ass dancer throwing up a Nazi salute.
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Ugh.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You gently caress the body of the wolf honey, stoking the flames of her desire so damn hot it’s a wonder she don’t catch fire. After that you really slip her the crippler, putting the actual bitch down like a damn veterinarian. You literally screwed the pooch. Doggone!
Regrettably, this doesn’t quite fulfil the terms of your erotic mission, in that the object of your affections was a lycanthrope — a nightmare creature trapped betwixt man and beast — and not an actual human being. Accordingly, your arduous sex quest must go on.
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Onwards, to sexual Valhalla...
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Pow! You just got kinda laid! The broke-ass dancer smiles… then throws up a straight-armed salute.
‘Sieg Heil!’ she shouts.
Damn. You just diddled a Nazi. That’s one for the loss column. On the other hand, you did put a glove on it, so you technically didn’t diddle her. There’s one for the win column. That makes the score even you reckon. You pay the dancer for her time and resume your sex quest. There’s no calling that encounter a win, but thanks to your utter lack of moral fiber, neither is it a Game Over.
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Let's move on quickly...
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You wake up in a dumpster full of fish guts and used diapers. Your forehead stings. You stagger out of the trash and over to a parked car, where you check your reflection in the wing mirror. Your face now sports a tattoo. I’m not going get into what it says, but trust me when I tell you it is mad racist. Like, hate crime racist. This could have a seriously deleterious effect on your sexiness, bro! Nothing for it but to tie on a do-rag to hide your new ink and pray this terrible mistake doesn’t come to affect the outcome of your adventure at a critical moment.
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Continue the quest...
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Congratulations, you have graduated to Level Two. Now quit tugging your pud and let’s get on with this sex adventure! Which direction you wanna sling that erection?
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I could do with a freshen-up. Go to the supermarket and get some new cologne.
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Ima scope out some gym rats. Go to the leisure center.
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Ima get me a hooker. Head for your crib and make a monetized booty call.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You land back at your digs, stretch out on your large circular bed and punch some digits into your celly. A couple of hours later the door buzzer rings and you answer it in your purple silk PJs unbuttoned to the navel.
The girl at the door is not what you ordered. She’s twice your age, raggedy assed, and smells like Febreze. This shit is totally penguin, i. e. it is not fly.
‘You look sadder than my daddy,’ the sex worker tells you, plonking herself on the edge of your bed and rumpling your fine Egyptian cotton. She chews on a candy bar. ‘You want some?’ she asks.
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Thanks, but I just lost my appetite.
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Sure, I could use a snack.
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How about you suck on my Ding Dong instead?
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Have yourself a Benjamin and take the day off, shorty. Send her home.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You break off a hundo and bid the call girl farewell.
What were you thinking? The practice of prostitution only serves to reinforce and perpetuate a climate of oppression, degrading women and furthering the power politics of the male gender. Ultimately, paying a woman for sex is both morally and ethically wrong. Especially when they look like a horse done stepped on their face.
What now?
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I still feel dirty (go to the supermarket and get some new cologne).
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I must punish my body for the sins of my mind (go to the gym).
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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Dope. You punch through the door of the gym and pop your guns. Time to max out those shreds, reach past the glutes, and — time permitting — learn some actual fitness slang. You’re about to go hog wild on that joint when you spot a hoochie giving you sex eyes. This girl is straight-up illin’! Face like a really good store mannequin and an ass that could broker an international peace treaty. What’s your play, homeboy?
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The burn is my master! (grab some weights and show her what you got).
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What’s the use, I’m already mad swole (skip the exercise and dive right in with a pick-up line).
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Ima hit the weights in a minute (grab a quick coffee from the refreshments station).
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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No doubt. You swag up to the gym rat and hit her with some sweet talk.
‘Gurl, you look like you scored straight Fs in school, but treat me right and I’m gonna give you the D.’
Naturally, she digs your fresh style and softens like marshmallow, metaphorically speaking, because her bod is so damn cut.
‘Be advised,’ she says, ‘if you wanna get wit me, I gotta witness the fitness.’
She aims a manicured fingernail at a barbell. What do you say, homes?
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I’ll show you my snatch if you shows me yours.
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Who am I kidding, I ain’t no lifter (go to the rest room for a bit of a cry).
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Go to the supermarket and score some new cologne.
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Head for your crib and hire a hooker.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You bounce to Walgreens and make for the fragrance aisle. You have your hand on a bottle of Drakkar Noir when you notice a checkout girl giving you sex eyes. This filly is so fine you could use her for a bookmark. Face like an angel and an ass that’s longing for a pronging.
What’s your move, mack daddy?
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Hit her with a pick-up line.
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Let her know what you’re about by running some suggestive items through the checkout.
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Ask her on a date like she’s an actual human being.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You roll up on the checkout girl and squirt some flirt.
‘Girl, is that a spoon in my pants, ‘cause I’m feeling a stir.’
That shit is badass. The hoochie’s giving you shark eyes though. Stone cold! So what’s your Plan B, B boy?
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Right in the feels! Go to the rest room for a bit of a cry.
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Better up my game. Pick-up harder.
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I’m done being blue-balled. Go home and get a hooker instead.
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You toss the checkout honey a bon mot the size of a damn atom bomb.
‘Gurl, you smell better than a fresh urinal cake,’ you say, raising a manicured eyebrow.
Despite your words being so fresh they might as well be thawed out of carbonite, the honey is not overwhelmed, she is merely whelmed. What now?
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Pick-up to the max!
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Head home to get a hooker instead.
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Go to the rest room for a bit of a cry.
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Please turn back a page
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Sextrap Dungeon: Book 1, by Kurt Knox
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You go to the men’s room and get your cry on, big style. After you’re done blubbing you take a good, long look in the bathroom mirror and decide you don’t like the man you see. A discarded razor blade sits ominously on the edge of the sink in front of you. How’s this going to play out, brosef?
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Treat this moment as a wake-up call. Quit the whoring, buck up your ideas and make something of your life.
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Straight-up suicide.
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Please turn back a page
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