Putting the Madge in Danna

by Mia Natasha

  Anyhow, last time we had spoken, Zeus and I hadn’t really actually talked all that much. Mostly we grunted as we masturbated on screen. I wore a little dotted-swiss babydoll that ties at the boobsies, paired with the highest heeled stilettos they sell at Macy’s. I pranced around sexily until I was wet enough to begin stroking myself in front of the camera. Rub-a-dub, and I could feel the prickly hair from my mon-mons as it nestled against the chiffon fabric of my matching panties. So tickly! Well, off they came. With my fingers wetted with succulent pre-cum, I began a tweak, tweak to my nipsey-russells.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful.”

  Zeus had on a black silk kimono robe that his Japanese clients had given him as a gift. It had these impressive embroidered dragons on the shoulders. They seriously looked like they could spit fire, especially when Zeus started his Zorba dance to the Japanese music emanating from the stereo system in the hotel room. Right after he squatted between kicks, he disrobed. I had turned for just a second to look demure as I gave my remark.

  I said, “What are you going to do to me? Will you give my you-know-what a special gift? I’d like the big kazoo, please.”

  When I looked back at the screen, he had it whipped out and started using it as a sort of spinning handkerchief. His cock obviously didn’t twirl, of course.

  “Dani, the next time I see you,” he said, “I’m going to jam the big kazoo down your throat. Next I’m going suck the life out of your little pinky. I’ll get your cuntessa so wet that you will be begging for it. Begging to have me inside of you, like a key in that keyhole of yours. Unfortunately you won’t be able to speak due to your gag.” He continued to dance and I watched his balls bounce around as he sped up the performance. He looked like an Olympic athlete from Ancient times. I imagined that back then the marathon runners must have had to hold their cocks as they ran all those miles or else they’d have felt all bumpity-bump the way boobsies feel when you run without a bra. “Then when I release you,” he continued, “you will hop up on my rigid cock and get a pounding you won’t soon forget.”

  Mmm-mmm, I thought. Yes, please.

  I love looking at Zeus’ naked body. He gets such a nice tan in the summer and in a short time too. Did I tell you that he’s from Australia? His parents moved here when Zeus was seven years old. They were born in Greece but spent time in Sydney before moving to Schenectady. I love how he still has that sexy Australian accent when he speaks English, kind of like the Wolverine’s.

  Zeus began to howl like a wolf then he furiously began to rub himself off. I think he was pretending that his prickers was a dragon spewing hot, tasty cum all over the camera. It was just a mild case of pre-cum but I knew more was on its way. This prompted me to pretend to lick it up, all the while caressing the wetness of my love tunnel, which was about to blow.

  Needless to say, but our congruent orgasms came quickly, his because he had said I looked sexier to him for some reason, perhaps because I had had relations with Chad Mavis by then. He didn’t know that, of course, but it made sense. Madonna was helping me to be a better lover, I was certain of it. Mine because he was so complimentary and specific about what he planned do to me once we were together again. I love being commanded. Plus - I think my having a big secret got me hot and bothered. I imagined him punishing me if he found out, slapping my ass like a naughty little girl. Although no one has ever spanked me, the threat had often been there from Dad when I was growing up. He worked long hours back then and did not want to hear crap from any of us kids when he got home, even from his little girl. He was a lot scarier then, come to think of it, but yelling was more his method of discipline. Mom’s was wait until your father comes home! Why did this spanking idea turn me on so much? I’m not sure, unless I felt guilty about the six lovers thingy. All of this stuff was spinning around in my head causing an exponential swirling inside my hooey and suddenly I came hard, as if the cum was the elixir of the gods summoning itself from my hoo-ha to absolve my sins. That was one memorable cyber call.

  This time there was no visual. Zeus couldn’t see that I was dressed for my beach date with Zeke Feathertoe, in a gray cotton jersey sundress with my honeymoon bikini on underneath. It is an Ed Hardy design, red spandex with heart tatts sprinkled on the bra cups. I love simulated tatts on my titty-ta-tas.

  “What are you up to?” Zeus asked, as though he could see through the phone and through me like a human lie detector machine.

  Naturally, I said, “I’m up to no good.”

  “Do you solemnly swear it?” Zeus asked, referencing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for some reason. That prompted a very expensive giggle fest. I’m sure phoning from Japan is as expensive as the time Mrs. Zepkos called Mom collect from Melbourne, Australia when she was visiting there last summer. After she received the two hundred dollar phone bill, Mom told her to never call her from Australia again.

  Once I calmed from hysterics, I said, “I’m also up to my ears in wedding planning.” I told him the G-rated version of my Madonna inspired recording-studio visit. And how I’ve lost five pounds from all the exercise I’ve been doing.

  “You should go and have another wedding gown fitting just in case your weight loss turns out to be significant. I don’t want you to whittle away to Madonna size, Madannika.” He hadn’t called me Madannika since last summer, which reminded us both of that silly sexy-sexy we’d had after the concert involving masks and sugar scrub oil, so we both laughed until we couldn’t breathe. Finally we said our good-byes intertwined with I love yous.

  I really love him, despite what you may think. I mean, I don’t know what you think. If you are here reading this, I hope it is because you’re on my side, but still. I am trying to be a better fucker for Zeus. I don’t want to be like Chad Mavis’ wife, who no longer worships the cock she made for better and for worse vows with. I want to be as worldly as Madonna before I enter my union, and just as experienced when all is said and done - and that is why I kept my date to fuck Zeke.

  As I mentioned, I was forty-five minutes late. “I thought you chickened out,” Zeke said when he saw me. He was standing by the door holding a gold key dangling from a red lanyard, which I assumed meant he had been waiting for me, given up, and was about to lock the door. There was no one else there.

  I stared at him for a second, took in his sad smile, his leathery skin and his super lean muscley arms hanging from a ripped sleeveless black and white striped shirt that reminded me of a jailbird or the Wicked Witch of the East’s stockings (both really, more so the witch due to the gym’s Munchkinland vibe - would he munch on my pussy-kin?) I suppressed my robotic dance and the laugh that came with it. I really needed to get serious.

  I said, “Why would I do that? I’m grateful that you’re taking time out of your busy schedule to spend time with me. To get me in shape for my wedding. To shape me up, in general.” He seemed to look even more forlorn when I said that, so I added, “And to pump me with your sufficient and all-powerful Indian lore. I want to catch your dreams.”

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I uttered as I nodded yes. I stood closer and let him sniff my perfume.

  Zeke hesitated at first then he placed his hands on my triceps. “Nice,” he said feeling how firm they had gotten in just a week. “Are you going to use your dreamcatcher to catch my dreams, bride-girl?”

  “I guess,” I said. I didn’t want to act too forward, since it seemed sluttish. I waited for his instructions.

  “You guess?” He looked into my eyes and I nodded yes again.

  I said, “Maybe we are having the same dream. One that involves a colorful journey of the orifice kind.”

  “I was thinking,” he said, “that I want you to use your mouth as the vessel.”

  Then Zeke began to kiss me. It was kind of exciting to feel the way I did. But weird. I had real emotions of getting what I wanted but at the same time, that actress vibe hit me hard. Real, but not real, you know? It was as though I only wanted to pl
ease Madonna, my director, and I wanted that very much – that imagined praise.

  How do actors kiss other partners on screen if they are married or seeing someone? It seems like a weird thing to do and get paid for it. Like whores. Was I being a whore? While my mouth locked onto Zeke’s, I wondered how I would feel if Zeus kissed someone else. Are there still geishas in Japan, I thought, or did they die out with the H-bomb?

  I tried to put that out of my mind. Zeus wouldn’t need to find other lovers, because men only do that when their women don’t put out in a satisfactory manner. This was completely different. The next time my man and I do the nasty, I thought, I would be primed for a life of hard pounding, but only if I complete my mission. I tried to enjoy the present for that reason.

  This kiss though - Zeke seemed to be sucking the life’s blood out of me. I find it so fascinating how something as simple as a kiss can be so extremely...well different. I don’t know how else to say it. When Zeus kisses me, I smell spearmint mostly, because he always chews gum. But sometimes his breath smells like roasted red peppers or baklava, you know, yummy things. Zeke’s breath smelled like a hot cinnamon and tobacco combo. I didn’t realize he smoked, unless the smell was from chewing tobacco, which seems a little bit more gross as it pertains to the possibility of unhealthy gums lurking about those white teeth of his. Luckily, I didn’t have to delve inside to find out. His kisses were dry but powerful, kind of like a soap opera kiss where the actors don’t venture into French territory. It was a bit PG, which reminded me of my cougar status. Here I was trying to be more worldly with a guy who, I suspected, had less experience than me. Strange.

  He led me over to the leg press in a kind of waltz. I could hear the jangle of the jingle bells he always wore around his ankle attached to a brown leather strap. I slipped down into the reclined seat of the machine. I started thinking he had wanted me to do a set of fifteen reps, as I had done when he was training me, so I placed my feet on the rubber pad. This machine reminds me of the gyno’s office because of the way your legs are up and spread apart, except you only spread them a shoulder’s width apart to exercise.

  Again, I waited for him to make the next move. Still standing up, Zeke straddled me. Then he yanked off his cropped warm-ups, the kind with the snaps on the sides, and they gave way. I mean, it was like something I saw at the Chippendales show in Atlantic City during Gina’s bachlorette party. I guess his original plan might have had involved skinnydipping – we were supposed to have gone to a beach, after all, and he wasn’t wearing any swim trunks. His naked cock was throbbing, all dark and engorged. I gasped a little. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Zeke’s dark foreskin and veiny manhood with its massive length had no girth. None. I mean, zero girth. Is that weird? Maybe he hadn’t grown into it yet, I thought? He’s only twenty. I don’t really know how that works. The big kazoo does not look like that, and as far as I know, it never had.

  He leaned forward and I didn’t hesitate. I accepted the strange appendage into my mouth. I liked the way he looked at me doing it - like he respected me, you know? I appreciated that, wondering how many times Madonna had found herself in this very same situation. It was easy to let my mind wander as I worked the thin boner. It kind of felt like sucking on a fat straw or swallowing a cigar, you know, one of those bubble gum cigars that Yaya used to get me from CVS. No, I didn’t chew it, come on! But, I don’t know, I’m still a little shocked by the experience, I guess – I just know that I didn’t even have to stretch my jaw much to take it all in. It wasn’t anything like Zeus’ cock, as I’ve mentioned.

  Zeke saw me gently grab the bottom of his shaft. I held it steady so I could give it stimulation while I sucked the head. I licked the native cock and tasted his musky pre-cum. Wow, I didn’t think he’d go the distance, him being young and all. That was fine. I expected a five-minute lick-lick, but this was more impressive. I wondered if it was the shaman in him. He moaned and squeezed his balls. He arched his back and for a minute, I thought he’d banged his head on the machine’s footboard somehow. It was like he went into that shaman’s trance, like he wasn’t even there. He held his eyes shut tightly. I moved my hand from side to side. My palm could hold the whole thickness. My fingers overlapped my thumb. I felt so happy for some reason clutching that skinny thing. It was effortless to suck Zeke off and I seemed to be good at it too. I liked the idea that this event was so mutually beneficial. We were both getting something out of it. He was getting a primo BJ and I couldn’t wait to check the personal trainer off my fuck do list, couldn’t wait to let him slide his shrunken head into my hooey to finish me off.

  I was going to stop for a second and say something witty to suggest a position change but when I looked past his balls and into his eyes, he seemed absolutely hypnotized. He began to thrash like an epileptic as he forced his long cock down my throat. It sat in my larynx, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe at all. I tried not to panic, although I was thinking death by girthless weiner would have made me the laughing stock at the pearly gates. I’ve often thought about that conversation with Jesus’ right hand man, and how it would change depending on the type of death I’d have. But this way….

  Pitiful, Saint Peter would say.

  Zeke swirled his hips around a bit and pulled out. I took a deep breath before he banged into my throat once again. My mouth wasn’t catching dreams, but nightmares. The pounding increased. WWMD? I wondered, what would my pop-icon do? Madonna generously sucked cock. In none of my research did Madonna’s lovers pan her fuck prowess. She wouldn’t have given up the fight – she would have taken control! Thinking about her kept me focused and on task, kept me strong.

  So I took Zeke’s cock for all it was worth. It would hardly bruise my jaw, I realized, as it seriously looked the size of an extricated tampon, only much longer of course. It was a simple case of mind over matter. I’d be fine, I thought, once I adjusted the angle of penetration and could breathe again.

  The pounding persisted, taking on a more rhythmic vibe like the drum to a rain dance. I tried to grab hold of his balls and tickle his taint, to calm him, but his violent pumping continued. My mouth was gagged so extremely that I couldn’t cry out to adjust the pace. I didn’t panic. I ended up passively accepting the peace pipe and smoked it of its juices.

  Eventually, Zeke pulled back, clenched up, took a deep breath, and finally unloaded thick pus-style globs of cum towards my mouth. It jettisoned from his prick-prick like ribbon streamers. It seriously looked like the streamers I saw on-line the other day, the ones that you attach along with the just married sign to the back of a limousine.

  I tried to swallow the cum, which I always do because I read somewhere that it is a sign of respect, but it came at me so quickly, young spermatozoa filled cum. It spilled in and out of my mouth, landing in wet spots all over my dress. And you know what wet spots look like on gray, right? It looked like gooey sweat.

  Zeke moved aside and helped me get up, although he looked exhausted - like maybe he needed a nap.

  I said, “That was fun.”

  “Yeah,” he replied, all winded-like.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to launch dreams into my dreamcatcher, and I’ll start the sequence,” I added, but I was a little impatient. “I’ll just start it anyhow and you can catch up when you’re ready.” I used my robot voice for this next part. “Commencing launching sequence in ten…nine…eight...” He looked like a track-a-lete that had just run the marathon. But he was young, I thought. Seven seconds would have been enough time to recover. “…seven…six…five…”

  Breathing heavily, he smiled and started to say something. It was at that moment that a man entered the gym with the matching red lanyarded key. He gave Zeke the evil eye. He parked himself behind the counter by the front door.

  “That’s my dad,” Zeke said.

  “And launching sequence…aborted at five.”

  He picked up a towel from the back of the adductor machine and wrapped it around his naked bot
tom then he went to speak with his older twin. I could hear the quiet grumblings, and I knew it wasn’t candy and roses. Still, I waited until they finished because it was so awkward. I still sort of wanted my hooey reward, my notch, you know? But at the same time I wished I was home. I even tried clicking my heels together to make myself disappear, but that didn’t work, of course. When he returned, no surprise, Zeke said I had to leave. The show was over. I wiped my mouth of lingering dribble and tried to cover the cum stains on my dress as best as I could before passing the senior Feathertoe on my way out. Hooey denied. Life is a mystery.

  Comments: 5

  Now I know this is real. I knew it. I told you, didn’t I? Bluejay Hawk, New York

  Madonna was in love with Carlos Leon. They had a relationship. He wasn’t just a blow job, you bitch. Maria-Elena, Brooklyn, NY

  If you really want to learn, Dani, you’ll meet me. I fucked Madonna and I’ll fuck you the sameway. Rob, NY, NY

  It wasn’t the Chippendales, Danna, it was the Manhattan Troupe, remember? Gina, Schenectady,NY

  This is the best blog I’ve read besides my own. Let the muff diving commence!

  Ro, Miami, FL

  ****

  The Lioness

  Tuesday, August 4, 2009 - 9:00pm

  I went back to Macy’s tonight to return the sheets. Thought for sure I’d see that gay salesgirl there. I mean the one I thought was at least bi-curious. I wouldn’t say that word describes me, since I’m simply looking for a Madonna-worthy one-off hook up of the female presuasion. Lady kiss-kiss isn’t such a big deal in the Greek community, by the way. Didn’t we invent the term lezbo? I think so because they came from the Island of Lesbos, right? It is perfectly normal for girls who go to my church to kiss each other hello. We always do a double cheek, except when I’m greeting Appollonia Phylos, who has a massive moley-mole on her cheek. It’s ghastly, by the way, especially when you’re heading towards it and can’t scream lest you get the evil eye from Appollonia’s mother. Lots of time, we lip kiss instead and when I do that with my cousins or besties from church school, I’m never thinking this is gay. It just seems natural.