“As much as I dug doing sex things with the girls & the dog, this latest twist totally panicked me out, despite the wild sex-fun I’d been having, scaring me off… for fear they’d force me into sucking Duke’s cock! I stopped hanging out with them, no matter how much they begged & pleaded me to come over & have some more doggie-fun with them…
“I suppose I was acting out the experiences associated with the ‘loss of my virginity’—I frequently put myself in situations where I was expected to ‘put out’ for several boys, one after the other, letting them gangbang me. Once, during a school dance in eighth grade, I was forced to take on six boys out under the bleachers, lying there on my back on some old army blanket one of them had stashed in preparation, with my dress rucked up, panties off & legs widespread, getting pumped by one after the other. That one scared me, though, ‘cause only the first kid went in with a rubber, the others went in skin-to-skin, &, when I tried to protest, it was too late, they just banged away, all of them shooting their cum up me—I was scared shitless I was gonna get knocked up. But I was fuckin’ lucky, & didn’t. After that, I braved it down to the free clinic & went on the pill… & though those were the early-AIDS days, there were still plenty of venereal diseases a girl could catch screwing around the way I did… I believed in leaving nothing to chance, & insisted any guy who wanted a piece of my pussy used a rubber…
“In high school, well, I already told you about the locker room deal, it wasn’t really a rape thing, we both wanted it, me & my friend—”
“—Mindy, right?” Frank interjects.
“Heh, I’m impressed, Big Man, quite a memory you’ve got for names & details,” Cherry teases, “particularly when it comes to tight young pussy… But, seriously, Mindy’d been fucking two of the guys, off & on, & they’d set up the deal, you know, swapping lies, the old locker-room hype. They may have been macho assholes, really, but I’ve gotta give them credit—they brought along a couple party-pacs of rubbers. & they were experienced fuckers, what with all that cheerleader pussy they’d been knocking off, & they knew how to get a girl off, & they sure as fuck did, BIGTIME! I must have climaxed twenty-five or thirty times, once I got going—I kid you not, Stud! Oh, god, was I ever sore afterwards!
“Mindy’s father had some fuckbooks she showed me where grown women were being sodomized, & it seemed as if they enjoyed it, judging by the lewd looks on their faces… the bizarre sight of the women’s wide-stretched anuses, obscenely engorged by thick, jutting penises—some bigger around than my wrist—both thrilled & terrified me! I desperately wanted to try anal sex & see what it would feel like. But I was frightened, too, unsure whether a girl my age could take it that way, particularly with a grownup man—afraid I’d injure myself & have to go to a doctor or something! I began to fantasize constantly about doing it that way, becoming positively obsessive in my fixation with the indecent act—the fact it was taboo made it all the more fascinating…
“I guess I did kind of kid around about trying it with several of my boyfriends I thought might be adventurous enough to try it… But they acted like I was weird or nuts or something & just joked it off.
“I fucked a lot of guys in high school. & some grown men, too. Three of our neighbors—Mr. Delmont, Mr. Ambrose & Mr. Clements—even though this was the mid-’80s, not the swingin’ ’60s or ’70s, before the laws got really tough, when it was still fashionable for middle-aged California swingers to indulge in ‘teenybopper boffing…’
“The thing with Delmont started in the summer following my freshman year. He caught me with his son, Derek—sexual blackmail, snapping polaroids of us. He got me into the photo stuff—nudie & sex stuff with his son, &, later, with himself. He was fat & ugly, but hung like a horse! I had never had sex this good before—with his huge cock brutally impaling me, rammed all the way up my little fuckhole, cumming myself silly… He never failed to bring me to a frenzied, whirlwind string of multiple orgasms, pumping away at me until I thought I’d die with pleasure…
“He did something with me no other guy had done before—a true depraved act of amour fou, ‘mad love’… He taught me what a wild fucking rush it is, having a guy eat-out your asshole; he was a freak for it, & I was hardly one to argue—I’d go nuts when he shoved his tongue up my ass, performing analingus on me ’til I orgasmed again & again…
“After we’d been having sex together for a while, he confessed to me he’d also been getting it on with two other ‘sexy little twats’ from my same school. When I asked him who they were, he said he’d show me… let me see if I knew them… He brought out some polaroids, & I gasped & damn near fainted from shock when I saw pictures of my old playmates, Penny & Sharonda, in bareassed buff, as usual, doing sex things with each other & with Mr. Delmont, getting themselves savagely fucked, his huge cock rammed up their hot little fuckholes… & more pictures of Penny & Sharonda, with Duke, too, jacking him off, letting him eat them out, in front & in back, & them sucking his hairy pink-crowned cock & groveling on their hands & knees letting him screw them doggie-style… letting him fuck them both in their pussyholes &, incredibly, taking him anally… ‘I’ll show you what else I did to those little hotpants whores’, he gloated, pulling out several more polaroids. There was a picture of him mounting the pretty, curvaceous black girl from the rear, savagely sodomizing her with his immense penis, her tight little anus stretched to near-bursting with the disproportion of the huge glans and cockshaft impaling her. She was obviously in excruciating torment, her eyes rolled up in their sockets & her mouth opened in a shriek of mindreeling pleasure-pain… The last several pictures were of him having anal intercourse with Penny as well, & I could tell the skinny little brunette’s wailing screams were not of ecstasy but of agony instead…
“I fucked around with him a few more times, off & on, but his now constant demands & imprecations that I ‘go anal’ with him & get together with him & Sharonda & Penny for a dogfuck party with them, ‘taking it up my pussy & my hot, tight little ass’ while he watched me terrified me too much to continue our liaisons. I was excited, yes, watching the other girls dogfuck, but was repulsed by the idea of letting a dog screw me in my pussy, let alone, up the ass, as I’d seen my two schoolmates doing. Also, as much as I eagerly longed to experiment with being analfucked, the ludicrous & fearsome disproportion of trying to allow a man hung as monstrously as he was penetrate my tight asshole was just too scary to deal with…
“My first experiences with Mr. Ambrose began early in my sophomore year, He was into pictures, too. Why is it all those pussyhounds that chase the jailbait twat are such goddamn shutterbugs, huh…? My thing with Mr. Clements began soon after. Actually, Ambrose spilled the insider info on me to Clements, telling him about the ‘hot young slut next door,’ over golf, & Mr. Clements wasted no time getting into my panties, too. Later, he admitted having been shown the skin pics Ambrose snapped of me, & had decided ‘he just had to stick his big dick up my choice little snatch,’ as he put it.
“I often ‘double dated’ the two of them. They introduced me to XXX videos, & sometimes took me to the drive-in, taking turns having sex with me in the back seat. One night, we got too careless, & Clements & I were caught en flagrant delicto by this usher kid. He threatened reporting them to the police for statutory unless they ‘shared me’ with him. They agreed. But Ambrose handed him a rubber & insisted he use it if he wanted to fuck me… The kid was a pimple-faced geek, a pencil-pricked jackrabbit, but he couldn’t get enough. During our third bout, my slit was so slippery with my love juices his penis slid out, the condom slipped off, & his dick slid down a little bit, accidentally penetrating (if only partially) the ‘wrong hole’ upon reinsertion. His mistake brought ridicule, then provoked interest, & aroused new lusts as my two ‘dates’ watched us—they realized it was turning me on… begging him not to stop, grasping his penis, trapping it inside me, forcing him to ejaculate into my lewdly wriggling backside. I climaxed as he did, experiencing simultaneous vaginal & anal orgasms…
“T
he kid tugged up his pants, & split. Both men had already screwed my hot little cunt—now they eagerly gave my ‘backdoor’ an experimental try! They both confessed they’d been aching to ask me to try ‘going anal’ with them, but were afraid they might frighten me off by proposing they try fucking me up my tight teenaged ass. While I admitted to them I, too, had been tempted to suggest anal intercourse but was just too scared to broach the subject! Ambrose went first, now rubberless, barely managing to force the head of it in just a little way… Clements followed, with greater success—I guess my asshole was getting pretty slippery by then—eventually cramming his entire cock inside me. Once turned on to this new thrill, they couldn’t get enough. They drove me out to a deserted lover’s lane, & both of them did me again, belly-down on the hood of the car…
“They took turns holding me down, mounting my exposed behind, clutching me firmly by my hips & sodomizing me, several times each, before they finally satiated their perverted lusts, so eager were they to indulge themselves in this fresh method of depraved copulation, ravenously fucking my compliant young body, keeping after me this way well into the early morning hours…
“This time, both Clement & Ambrose brutally rammed their thick, throbbing penises all the way up inside the quivering depths of my tightly clenching rectum, penetrating me completely…making me shriek & squirm & squeal in excruciating pain & pleasure…
“I could hardly sit down for a week afterwards—my bottomhole was so fucking sore from all that fevered anal action!
“Thus began our exploration of backdoor pleasures…” She relates the whole wicked story to him, leaving out no titillating detail…
[ 243 ]
Slice experiences and overwhelming sense of déjá vu… How long has he been gazing into the mirror?
The mirror returns his reflection, as if it wants to get rid of it as soon as possible, spitting the distasteful image back to its outlandish source. The latex on his face has been applied unevenly, giving his face a freakish facade, certain to draw unwanted attention. But then, Slice is no makeup or special effects artist… GOTTA DO BETTER THAN THIS, SCUMBAG, says the voice in his left ear,
What the fuck?! Who is that? He looks behind himself, then glances all around the room. The woman’s naked, mutilated body is on the blood-soaked mattress, just as it should be. No way SHE said anything. She’s got a mouthful of fucking intestine. Who said that?
YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING REJECT FROM NIGHT OF THE FUCKED-UP DEAD. LIKE A RETREAD GETTING READY TO BLOW OUT BIG TIME…
Who are you?
WHO DO YOU THINK I AM, YOU ANUS? GET THAT SHIT OFF YOUR FACE & START OVER. WE’VE GOT PLACES TO GO. PEOPLE TO DO…
It ain’t that bad. You can’t see the New Flesh, that’s the main thing. & it’s dark out. Who’s gonna see?
IT’S GONNA GET A LOT FUCKING DARKER BEFORE WE’RE FINISHED, MR. HYDE… Slice begins peeling the latex mask from his face. Blue pebble-like flesh is revealed as each piece of latex comes off. Beautiful, isn’t it?
WORDS CAN’T BEGIN TO DESCRIBE IT, ZIT SUCKER. DO IT RIGHT THIS TIME. THAT FUCKING WHORE YOU DID IS STARTING TO STINK. & WE’VE GOT MILES TO GO BEFORE WE SLEEP.
I know who you are.
OF COURSE YOU DO, SHIT STICK. YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN ME.
But I was never sure…
WELL, YOU CAN BANK ON IT NOW, HEMORRHOID.
You shouldn’t talk to me like that. I’m the New Flesh.
I’LL TALK TO YOU ANY WAY I WANT TO, SCOURGE OF THE EARTH. WHO DO YOU THINK MADE YOU WHAT YOU ARE?
Blue Devil made me what I am. Not you.
THE MOON IS BLUE, BUTTFACE. WHERE DO YOU THINK THE FORMULA FOR BLUE DEVIL CAME FROM?
The one called “Professor.”
BULLSHIT, ASS-LICK. BLUE DEVIL IS MY FERTILE SEED. & YOU ARE MY FUCKING OFFSPRING. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP & FIX YOUR FACE.
With encouragement from his unseen companion—the voice in his left ear—Slice re-applies the latex skin.
A fly lands on the nose of the corpse on the mattress, & crawls into the black, blood-crusted cavern of her nostril, looking for a good place to lay her eggs. It scuttles down the back of her throat, stopping just inside the ragged piece of intestine lodged against her uvula. The fly lays her eggs there.
[ 244 ]
“So, you really didn’t have anal sex with either Lois or Missie—?” the redhead seems surprised.
“Naw, I just couldn’t… In fact, I never have. Not with my wife. Not with a hooker. Never. Although, as I’ve admitted, I nearly freaked out, I wanted to so bad with both of them…
(& the secret knowledge that he had resisted his most wicked urges served to salve his guilt, but not the suppressed fury of his frustrated longing), Cherry ponders silently.
“It was ugly. & it was sick. & it was wrong. & I guess I just kind of closed a door inside my mind, letting the alcohol blur all but the vaguest hauntings so I would never have to face my shame until NOW…” Frank says. He is trembling like a man drawn out of freezing water…the deepest darkest backwaters of his subconscious.
Until tonight. Until Cherry wakened the sleeping horror deep within him, stirring the remembrance of his sordid complicity in those youthful crimes.
Once more she bends forward on her on hands & knees, assuming the posture of the slave-submissive, wrists chained & manacled. He kneels behind the bowing redhead. “Do it to me now!” she urges, wriggling her rump against him, inciting him to join with her in copulation. Her bottom gleams pale as ivory in the subdued light. Blue veins seem to writhe beneath the smooth, translucent skin… She tosses her head in sultry, licentious abandon, & her hair flails the air like whips of flame… The buzzing in his brain increases: the sound of a million droning flies.
He guides his manhood down between her upthrust globes, down into the valley of her sex. The head of it nudges at the thicket of curls that guards the secret cavern of her primal depths. But her slender hand grasps his throbbing erection, draws it upward, tickling the dark, half-hidden crease of flesh, bringing it to rest, nuzzling against the brown, crinkled rosebud…
“NO! Not there,” he argues with the wanton redhead, “It’s the wrong place, it doesn’t belong there…” his voice is lowered to a low growl of lust, a whispering of self-denial. “I won’t do it to you that way,” he moans, “that’s the way QUEERS do it…”
“Do I look like a queer…?” Cherry taunts him, in a throaty whisper.
“Uhhh, no, of course not—”
“Well, Mr. Hardguy, Mr. BMOC, if you want me that’s how you’ll do it…”
“But how the HELL can I get THIS—” Frank shakes his snake in her direction, pointing that big meanmuthuh boa sheathed in its second skin of prophylactic deadbang at the tiny brownish hole down there between the lush globes of her backside… & it looks even bigger than that huge cock of her father’s Little Lois told us all about…
“Don’t worry, Lover, what did you think I was doing when you saw me squatting on the floor…? I was lubing my ass with KY Jelly, & if you’re gonna fuck me, Baby, it’s gonna be a California Girl’s favorite ride—a trip down what those backdoor-boffin’ little Valley Girls euphemistically term ‘The Hershey Highway,’ & believe me those little bitches just can’t get enough…
“& Big Man, remember, I’m a California Girl as in ‘are really the MOST…’ & I’m READY for a ride down that Dusty Back Road…”
[ 245 ]
Needle slips into blue vein. No pain. Not even the tiniest prick. Odd thumb depresses the plastic plunger & the blue liquid in the syringe is forced into the bloodstream. When the syringe is empty, Slice removes the hypodermic from his vein & tosses it into the ocean. The waves rolling under the dock catch his attention & hold it, the ebb/flow/ebb associations setting off liquid visions in his mind.
COME ON, SHIT STICK, YOU’VE GOT WORK TO DO.
“Where do we start?” Slice asks of his invisible companion.
YOU KNOW.
“Washington?” His memory is hazy, his mind reeling
& rolling like shore-pounding breakers as the Li Di 9 surges through his system.
BINGO, BOZO.
“Pynchon’s hit list?”
WORK YOUR WAY TO THE TOP OF THE CHARTS.
“Then New York. The Mafia motherfuckers.”
JACKPOT, CROTCHROT.
“What about my face? My flesh?” Slice asks, his forefinger & thumb clamping down on a particularly viscious- & viscous-looking boil on his left cheek, festering blue filth exploding in a splatter-pattern on the dock’s rough-hewn planking that keys a depraved parody of fusion Jackson Pollock-Theosophic/Jungian/Surrealist periods & Abstract Expressionist/ Action Painting…
He chortles at his imaged gallery hanging.
NO PROBLEM. OTHERS DON’T SEE THE NEW FLESH. NOT YET.
“You mean it’s all in my head? Like hallucinations?”
Duet for the Devil Page 39