The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 2

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “It’s just that, well, it doesn’t take much effort for My Lord to – how does one put this to a lady of your calibre? – achieve his ends.”

  “Ya mean, come, right?”

  “Exactly.” An’ he goes an’ leans across the table to whispuh into my ear. “The Great-and-All-Powerful Satan has a bit of a problem with what mortals now call ‘premature ejaculation’. It has actually proved quite convenient over the ages. Oh, my, especially when the Borgias were in the Vatican! Why, every gala orgy Pope Alexander VI threw, the more and more Borgias would show up to make a wager much like yours with Him.

  “I personally would have been exhausted. But not My Lord. A few minutes with a hundred or so people meant he could be done in hours instead of days or months. And when he was through, he was more refreshed than when he had begun. Why, that rascal Cesare, even after he’d lost his soul, was still begging My Master to sodomize him as often as possible. And, kind soul that He is, the Bright Star would oblige and ream that rakish boy 15 or 20 times at every one of his father’s bacchanalias. Yes, My Lord may be a tad hasty with his delivery but he has no problem whatsoever with recovery . . .”

  At this point, I’m so fuckin’ lost, I have no idea what he’s talkin’ about. I don’t know nothin’ about the Borgias yet. So I decide I have to clarify myself or give it up. Now.

  “Hey, Mr Mephistopheles.”

  “Oh, oh. I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I was waxing on. Do forgive me.”

  “Forget about it.” He bows from the waist an’ I watch the lace cheese wheel tilt to the table an’ back up. “I meant to say I can make The Devil come after his longest go-round ever . . .” Here I remember somethin’ Lilith told me so I adds, “An’ there’ll be warm fluids.”

  “Well, well. That’s a wager after all. I can’t see him passing that up. It’s never been done before. A very bold move, Your Majesty.”

  “Sure. Thanks,” I says.

  An’ the ol’ man starts to type away again, mutterin’ aloud “warm fluids” an’ gigglin’ to himself.

  That Saturday, aroun’ midnight, Lilith an’ I are waitin’ up in my bedroom for the Devil to do a walk-on. I look over to the clock by the bed. It says 12:01. I turn back an’ there’s this little green ball in front of me.

  It’s like this tiny thundercloud. All bubblin’ an’ shit like someone’s tryin’ to boil it. I wanna start laughin’ my ass off ’cause all I can think is this schmekel of a cloud is the Devil? It musta read my mind ’cause next thing I know, it’s growin’. An’ the bigger it gets, the worse it smells. “Christ,” I yell an’ the cloud freezes for just a moment. Now it stinks even worse. Like a fuckin’ dump – I mean a honest-to-Gawd garbage dump – filled only with rotten eggs an’ rancid garlic. I scream to Lilith to open the winduh. As soon as I do that, the farshtinkener cloud goes poof an’ it’s like it blew up. There’re just pieces of it floatin’ aroun’. Same goes with the stench. An’, in the middle of my bedroom, there stands none other than the Devil himself.

  T’be honest, I was expectin’ a real lump. A bug-eyed golem with waxy skin an’ big tufts of hair sproutin’ from his shoulders. Instead, I get this curly headed, blond boychik with hypnotic blue eyes an’ these red lips that beg t’be chewed, wearin’ this schmatte of a red robe that barely covers any of his skin. Creamy skin ya wanna lick from head to head to toe an’ back to head, if y’know what I mean. He looks like a cross between a Hitla Youth an’ Christopha Atkins in Blue Lagoon.

  Gawd, I wore that video ragged one summuh.

  Anyways, this pisher, once he’s shook loose his cloud of shit-stinkin’ smoke, goes an’ drops the robe an’ I see he’s got the biggest schmuck I ever seen. Swear to Gawd! Makes Kurt’s look like a dinky schmendrick. All I could think was, Jesus Christ, if he sticks that thing in me I’ll fuckin’ plotz. My twat, on the other hand, she don’t give a damn. She’s already droolin’ through my panties onto my inner thighs. An’ in the end, I always agree with my twat that what she should want, she should have.

  “So, you’re the next contestant to best the Devil,” he says, just oozin’ smarm.

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” I says.

  “Splendid.”

  “Y’know, my girlfriend fucks me up the ass all the time. She likes to pretend we’re faygelehs runnin’ aroun’ the woods on Fire Island.”

  The Devil grinned.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m with the faygelehs here. I think butt-fuckin’s hot.”

  “It is, Mrs Faust,” he says, comin’ as close as his all-of-a-sudden-stiff as-a-two-by-four-schmuck lets him. Believe me, it was close enough ’cause poster goy has got day-ol’ vodka breath. We’re talkin’ cheap vodka. The Maneschevitz of vodka. “Just wait till I’m inside you. No one does it quite like I do.”

  “Oh, sure, sure,” I says, backin’ away from the fumes. “I’ve heard yer great. Hell, my girlfriend says she’ll even join us if ya like.”

  “I’d like that very much, Mrs Faust,” he says. “But I didn’t know there’d be another here to make a deal.”

  “Oh? Oh, no. She don’t want nothin’ from ya. She just wants to hang out. Watch. Maybe play. We never done a three-ways before.”

  He turned to Lilith. “You don’t wish to try for vast riches,” and Lilith shakes her head, “world domination,” she shakes it some more, “immortality?”

  “It’s overrated,” she says.

  “Oh, the high and mighty Christian, are we?”

  “Yeah, right,” I laugh. “She just wants to have sex with the Devil.”

  He stared at her. “What an odd woman. But what Devil would I be if I denied any of God’s children a moment of ecstasy with me? Just remember the deal’s between me and your girlfriend.”

  “No problem.”

  “OK, then. Shall we begin?”

  “Sure,” I says. I start takin’ off my clothes. I catch the Devil eyein’ my breasts as I pull off my bra.

  “Y’know,” I says. “I was wonderin’ if I could work up to you plowin’ my ass.

  “Work up? My dear Mrs Faust, didn’t my underling inform you? I don’t do foreplay. No fondling of the breasts, no matter how impressive they might be, no cunnilingus, no anal-oral contact. Why, I don’t even use lube.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “Would you like to cancel the wager?”

  “Na, na. I’m just curious why no foreplay.”

  “I’m not a big fan of traditional sex.”

  “Bubeleh, where have you been? No foreplay is about as traditional as sex gets.”

  I don’t think he likes me. He gives me this really lame-ass smile.

  “If you must know, Mrs Faust, I’m an aficionado of the asshole.”

  “Oh,” I says, havin’ no idea what he’s talkin’ about.

  “I find it a painful challenge for the contestant.”

  “No lube, I bet.”

  “Yes, Mrs Faust, you have made a bet,” he says all impatient like. “So, if you don’t mind, I have a very busy schedule. Please, just pull down your panties and bend over. This won’t take long but it will hurt very much.” He starts laughin’ like some little boy who’s had way too much sugar.

  “Sure, sure.” An’ I’m standin’ there slippin’ my underwear off an’ I stop. “You like challenges, right?”

  “Obviously, Mrs Faust.”

  “An’ you think the asshole’s the hardest.”

  “Look at my devilhood,” he says pointin’ to his schmuck. It grows anotha foot right then an’ there. “Now compare that with the average asshole and I call that a challenge.”

  “I guess.”

  “What, Mrs Faust? You had something else in mind?”

  “Well, in my experience,” an’ I goes an’ nods my head towards Lilith, “nothin’s more of a challenge than eatin’ a woman out. ‘Specially a real butch one like my girlfriend.”

  The Devil looks back at Lilith like he’d forgotten she was in the room. “I wouldn’t know,” he says.

  “Whaddya m
ean ya don’t know? Yer the friggin’ Devil. Y’know as much as Gawd.”

  “More,” he adds, all bitter soundin’.

  “More. Sure, more. But then ya musta eaten out a woman some time.”

  “Never.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Was it ’cause you didn’t enjoy it when you was a woman?”

  “I’ve never been a woman, Mrs Faust. I’m the Devil.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. Right. I know ya ain’t a woman. No more than yer the hung-like-a-fuckin’-horse ganef standin’ before me. But ya musta taken the shape of one before?”

  “No. I never have.”

  All I could think was “Don’t that explain everythin’.” But I goes an’ says, “Feh!”, an’ pull up my panties.

  “‘Feh,’ Mrs Faust?”

  “That’s right. Feh! Yer not the Devil. Yer just one of his little guys pretendin’ t’be. I’m not gonna do anotha gawddamned thing till ya get me the Devil.”

  “What? Don’t be an idiot, Mrs Faust. Everyone knows I’m the Devil. I often take a pleasing appearance. Look at me! I know you’re pleased. And my penis! Everyone knows it’s colder than ice. Please, touch it.”

  “Ice, schmice. I bet every demon in Hell has a fuckin’ icicle for a dick. I want the Devil. The big-D Devil. Lucifuh.”

  “I am Lucifer. The Bright Star. Look at me! Don’t I look like a fallen angel to you?”

  “Maybe. But I need more proof.”

  “I don’t give ‘more proof’, Mrs Faust!”

  “Fine, ya shaygets, then the deal’s off.”

  Next thing I know I’m coughin’ my lungs up. There’s smoke everywheres. I’m screamin’ to Lilith again to open a winduh. Then, it’s gone an’ there’s the Devil doin’ his impersonation of a woman. He’s – she’s – I’m no fuckin’ good with these pronouns here – the Devil’s turned himself into one of those scrawny supermodels that looks like they got a teenage boy’s body with little round breasts glued on. Jeez, I’m thinkin’, I’m learnin’ way more t’night than I ever wanted to about who the Devil thinks is really hot. No wonder he came to Kurt first.

  “Is that the best ya can do?” I laugh.

  Oh, is he pissed. There’s this big puff of red smoke an’ then it’s gone an’ I’m starin’ at Betty Bazoombas.

  We’re talkin’ the American Porno Queen Dream. Trust me, I know. I’ve watched hundreds over the years. She’s aroun’ 5'10" an’ weighs no more than 135 pounds. That’s 5 pounds for her bleached hair an’ 15 pounds for each boob. 40 Double D. A course they’re implants. Jeez, it’s the Devil for Chrissakes! Only he could have tits that huge an’ a waist as big aroun’ as one of those starvin’ Hollywood actress’s arms an’ not fall flat on his face.

  Did I mention, he’s wearin’ 6" stilletos an’ still not fallin’ over? I can’t even stand in freakin’ 1" heels. While he coulda probably danced a jig in those shoes on wet grass if I’d asked. An’ get this, ’cept for the heels, all he’s got on is a little gold ankle bracelet with a pentagram. I swear, nothin’ else. That’s right. The Devil’s butt nekked in my bedroom. Oh, oh, an’ he’s gone an’ shaved his twat. Yeah, all that’s left of whatevuh bush he had is this teeny, tiny Hitla moustache. What’s that? Y’know it. The perfect porno pussy.

  “Can I call you Lucy?” is all I can think to say.

  “No, Mrs Faust, you cannot,” he says.

  “And don’t even think of calling me Lyle,” says this man’s voice behind me.

  I look to see what new demon’s snuck into the house now an’ there’s Lilith. She’s gone an’ turned herself into a guy. Same feachuhs. A little talluh. A little thinnuh. Same killuh schnoz an’ a schmuck to match. That’s right, people. A big flesh-an’-blood dick.

  “Whoa,” I says. Lucy looks back an’ I hear him sigh. I know he’s drippin’ too. I can smell it. It’s like this strong spice, y’know. Turmeric. Yeah, that’s it.

  “What?” Lilith says. Her voice is real sexy an’ suave soundin’. Like Frank’s. Sinatra, ya dope!

  “Oh, this,” she says. “Just a little shape-shifting I do for parties.” We’re both starin’ open mouth ’cause Lilith is one hot guy. “Hey,” she says, tryin’ t’get our eyes outta her crotch, “up here.”

  “Huh?” Lucy an’ I says at the same time.

  “Let’s party, girls.”

  Lilith goes an’ walks into the middle of the room, her dick bobbin’ along up in front, until she’s standin’ before Lucy.

  “Go ahead. Touch it,” she says. “You know you want to.”

  I nod my head without thinkin’.

  “Whatever do you mean, boy?” says Lucy.

  Gawd, the Devil’s got the right-soundin’ voice – all high an’ breathy. But he sure as shit don’t talk like no porn star. Sounds more like one of the Three Fuckin’ Musketeers.

  “It’s colder than yours ever was,” says Lilith.

  “Impossible.”

  Lilith takes Lucy’s hand an’ wraps it aroun’ her schmuck. The Devil makes a hissin’ sound. Like some angry snake.

  “Ow. It’s too cold. It’s too cold,” Lucy says, tossin’ his hair an’ makin’ all these whimperin’ noises. What a whiny fuckin’ girl! “It’s burning me.”

  “I bet.” Lilith thrusts her hips a few times so her dick’s pumpin’ away in Lucy’s hand.

  Lucy shrieks as he tears his hand away. He’s cryin’ an’ jumpin’ from one foot to the other an’ wavin’ his hands in the air an’ blowin’ on them like he just got done playin’ Twistuh on top of a electric stove.

  I can see his hands. They look fine t’me. Didn’t even muss up his French manicure nails. The bitch. Guess it’s not quite like bein’ human an’ stickin’ yer fuckin’ tongue to a frozen pipe.

  “How did you do that?” he asks my man Lilith.

  “It’s just a matter of practice,” she says, playin’ with her balls – we’re talkin’ real low hanguhs here. “I’ve had more time than you.”

  “That’s impossible. Only God Himself is older than I!”

  “Oh, Lucy, do ya have a lot to learn t’night!” I says.

  “Mrs Faust, what did I tell you about calling me Lucy?”

  “Sorry, Yer Devilness.” I turn my back for a second an’ roll my eyes, hard, an’ mutter a curse or two. Gawd, I wanna tear that bitch a new one.

  “Not only,” Lilith goes on, “is my dick colder, it’s also harder and longer than yours.”

  “Oh, please, man!” Lucy says as he puts his hands on his hips an’ tosses that hair of his. Gawd, it looks so South Shore.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Never,” he says. He goes an’ throws his big hair about some more. Y’know he’s secretly wishin’ I’d go find a fan from the attic an’ bring it back to the bedroom an’ spend the rest of the night aimin’ it at him so he wouldn’t have to keep that wind-swept look goin’ by himself. I swear to ya. I can hear him whisperin’ the fuckin’ suggestion in my head. But I don’t.

  “C’mon,” Lilith says. “You know you’ve always wanted to experience what it feels like for those wretched sinners impaled on your icy spear.” Lucy starts to giggle like she’s some nine-year-ol’ girl at a slumber party.

  “For once, you have the chance to experience that torment yourself.” And Lilith’s now yankin’ on her schmuck as she talks. “You’ve seen them writhe and you’ve heard them shriek for centuries, but you have no idea why. In your head, you think you do. But in your body, you feel nothing. You’re empty.”

  “What nonsense. Why, it’s pure projection.” Lucy’s talkin’ all quiet like now ’cause all she can do is stare at my girlfriend’s king-size dick.

  “Perhaps. Maybe more than you know. It’s possible I was once good at giving torment myself. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still curious.” And Lilith swaggers over to the bed an’ lays herself spread eagle on it. Her long dick’s pointin’ to the ceilin’.

  “C’mon, Lucifer. You know you want to sit on it.”


  So guess what, the Devil does just that. But not without makin’ a total fuckin’ production of it. He can’t just walk over to the bed – who could in those heels? An’ he can’t just take ’em off neither. Na, he has to lift off the ground about four feet an’ then hover over to the bed. Ya can tell he’s havin’ a hard time with the new body ’cause he’s floatin’ back an’ forth over Lilith’s dick, tryin’ t’get his favourite hole lined up with it.

  He’s just about got it when Lilith goes an’ says, “I need you to be facing away from me.”

  “Why” he says, soundin’ real hurt. “Do I not please you?”

  “You look great,” Lilith says. She better be lyin’ is all I have to say. “It’s just that I have something special planned for you and it only works if you’re straddling me the other way.”

  “Special?” Lucy says, all curious.

  “Very,” she says.

  “For me?”

  “Yes, for you.”

  That does it. Alla the sudden, Lucy’s turned around an’ squattin’ on Lilith’s schmuck. No foreplay. No lube. Just the way he likes it. He must, ’cause he’s makin’ these really scary cooin’ sounds for every little bit of dick he takes up his ass.

  “You don’t mind if my girlfriend helps out,” Lilith says, givin’ her dick anotha thrust. “This is her deal with the Devil after all. She really wants to lick your clit while I savage your asshole. I promise you, it’s right up your alley. You’ve got extreme pleasure and pain fighting it out throughout your body. A very delightful experience. But it might be too much for you. Being a virgin and all.”

  That does it. Lucy turns his head aroun’. Just his head – hey, y’knew he would – an’ says, “Call me a virgin again and your girlfriend loses her bet.”

  “OK, Lucifer, calm down.” An’ Lilith goes an’ lifts her hips an’ the dick slides in deeper. Lucy makes this happy-soundin’ grunt an’ turns his head back. Lilith ignores him an’ just keeps on talkin’. “I’m just saying you’re good at what you know and after you experience this you may want to add it to your repertoire.”

  “A clever save, young man. Oh. Oh, oh! Oh, yes. Your penis is growing colder and colder!” An’ the Devil squats down further on Lilith with a few more happy, piggy grunts. “But I must concur. I have been growing fatigued with the old routines. Well,” he says, glarin’ at me, “are you going to minister to my vagina or not?”