The Coming of Derek (a quirky comedy)

by A. J. Carpenter

  Donna immediately began caressing Derek’s chest, running her fingers through his hair and playing with his nipples like an executive toy. Derek could feel the blood rushing to his second brain as she began undoing his belt with one hand.

  Suddenly, an overwhelming alpha sensation came over him and he ripped her towel open and stared at her magnificent form. Lying on her back, her breasts dripped mightily over the side, but sat tall and huge on top of her, like the world’s largest currant buns topped with humongous cherries. Her stomach was full and cushioned, begging for a raspberry, and her southern regions were bushily groomed and inviting.

  ‘Take your trousers off,’ Donna husked.

  Derek obeyed, jumping up from the embrace and dropping his trousers quicker than a newly released prisoner.

  ‘And the boxers,’ Donna continued, longing to feel him inside her.

  Derek paused at this, suddenly aware of the gravitas of what they were doing. But he realized that if he thought too much about it, it would dramatically affect the impetus of the union. So he did what any man would do and squirmed out of his soft boxer shorts, standing hunched and ready. But he was too scared to pounce. So Donna reached out her hand and guided him gently down. As they tenderly kissed, she began thrusting her pelvis up and down in a circular motion, running her moist valley up against Derek’s telegraph pole. As far as the ‘Guinness Book of Records’ went, Derek was not in line to win any prizes, but, as the pair brushed themselves up against each other, Donna felt like she was high.

  Derek’s hands were now firmly planted on her bulging bosoms, running his fingers gently over them like they were priceless works of art. To Derek, they were. He longed to bury his head deep inside them, but resisted the temptation and began a soft squeeze of her nipples instead.

  It felt like they were being wrenched by a spanner. Derek, however, was having a grand time. So Donna guided his hand gently down to her stomach, pushing it further and further towards her modesty. At first, Derek began brushing down her front as if she was a dog.

  ‘Relax,’ she encouraged huskily.

  And much to both their surprise, he did, letting his instincts take over, forcing her legs gently apart and then sitting back to admire the view. It was like a deep valley hidden behind the woods, longing to be dove into. When he began running his hand intrepidly between her legs, he was conscious of the importance of finding the clitoris. He had read in many male aimed magazines that this was the way to a woman’s heart. But none of these magazines ever gave a clear description of this elusive organ, which would undoubtedly hinder Derek’s quest. But like any good explorer, instinct was his guide and if in doubt the only way to go was in.

  Letting his fingers run sweepingly through her cubby hole, he was more than surprised by the mountains and caverns with which he was confronted. She felt like the inside of a turkey, when rummaging around with the stuffing, smooth and damp and intricately contoured. Relief swept over him as he realized that he had discovered the entrance, although the door bell had yet to be found.

  Derek had always imagined that in order to envelop anything a ladies hole would need to be pretty gaping, so he was shocked and a little alarmed to find that it wasn’t. He placed his little finger at the door and tentatively began knocking forward and back. It felt as though he was being consumed by the blob. Unsure as to what to do with the remaining fingers, he began brushing her secret place in a bid to find the power button. But the stumpiness of his pinky was proving too awkward, so instead he swapped it for the index finger. This worked much more efficiently and Donna began to groan.

  Derek soon cottoned on to the fact that Donna’s moaning was a key indicator of how to find it. It was like hide and seek. A quiet groan meant that he was pretty cold, but when she hummed slightly or purred then he was pretty much on the money. Or at least, he hoped he was.

  Having been enjoying the undivided attention, Donna reached out for Derek’s mini me, making him squirm slightly at its sensitivity. She ran her fingers over it and cupped his extraordinarily large friends, before gently squeezing his squid up and down, up and down. Derek found that he was unable to concentrate on Donna because he was experiencing such uncontrollable pleasure, so he decided to remove his finger from the suction hole and gently caress her pleasure button instead. This was not, in fact, the right button, but Donna moved her hips slightly to the right and the moans soon began to flow again. Donna’s hand started to hasten in motion and Derek was overcome by joy. The deep rush inside him tingled right down into his toes.

  ‘I want to feel you inside me,’ Donna moaned, bringing herself up to sitting, but still thwacking away at his stick of love.

  Just the thought of this drove Derek wild and the blood began to pulse through him like ecstasy. His bottom lip quivered as a mixture of barnyard animal noises came out of his mouth and a powerful burst of white lumpy treacle spurted onto Donna’s belly.

  Silence followed as Derek realized that he had failed yet again. Donna lay motionless, trapped under the pool of flob. She waited patiently for him to help her. But he didn’t. He was mortified.

  ‘Can you get me something to clear this up?’ she finally asked.

  Not wanting to use the only clean towel in the house, Derek presented Donna with his t-shirt, before quickly moving away.

  ‘Thanks,’ she responded, disheartened.

  Derek hurriedly pulled on his clothes and Donna soon began to realize that any pleasure that would happen that night had already been had and that she wasn’t included. She looked at Derek as he fumbled awkwardly in the kitchen, opening and closing doors again. He looked like a lost puppy.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked sympathetically.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he replied shortly, shuffling from foot to foot, whilst waiting for his trumpet to go down.

  Donna had no idea what to do. She was beginning to feel cheap and nasty, like she may have been used. Getting up, she wrapped herself back up in the towel and headed into the bathroom to wash. Looking at herself in the mirror, she looked like a different person to earlier. After taking the bath she had felt refreshed, youthful and pretty. Now she looked like a dirty old trout with nothing going for her and man juice in her belly button. She had been sure that he liked her. He seemed so genuine. But then the realization that every man on the planet was the same rushed back to her once again and she wished to God that she could be a lesbian.

  Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Derek was calling for a taxi. As much as he wished Donna would stay, he was embodied by embarrassment and having her there would be a constant reminder of his failures. She looked miserable when she came out of the bathroom. Derek wanted to go and give her a hug, but he knew that she wouldn’t want him.

  ‘I’ve called you a taxi,’ he murmured, unable to look at her.

  ‘Oh…it’s okay, I can walk,’ she replied, numb.

  ‘Well, it’s ordered now. I think it’s safer.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ Donna agreed, bending to pick up her bag. ‘How long will it be?’ she asked, desperately trying not to cry.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Derek reluctantly responded.

  ‘Okay, well I might as well wait for it outside. Thanks for the wine,’ she said hastily, hurrying out of the door.

  As Derek shut the door behind her, he wanted to shrivel up, or hurl himself off a never ending cliff.

  As Donna stood out in the cold, she wanted to steal the knife from those thugs and thrust it into the heart of every man.

  And as Rebecca sat watching in the sky, she wanted to bang Derek’s head against the wall and force him to finish off the job that he had started. Having been shouting down at the pair of them, like she was at a football match, she was now deadly silent. He was perfect for her, so she couldn’t fathom why he was pushing her away. She wished from all the way up there that she could provide him with a hooker to cure him of his innate obstacles so that he could properly proceed with the rest of his life. But she was beginning to realize that this was just Derek. Derek
was Derek and at that moment in time, it looked as if there really was no curing him.

  17

  TINA TURNER

  Felicity screamed in agony as she hung awkwardly over the toilet. She felt like somebody had a stanley knife blade and was scratching her with it from within. Everything was swollen and suddenly lasts nights shenanigans just didn’t seem worth it anymore. In honesty, Sean had been a bit of a dick, in fact, he had been a lot of a dick. He didn’t seem to have a sense of humour and he could be enormously cutting. But he was beautiful. Every inch of his body was like a finely sculpted work of art and no matter how much Felicity had told herself that she couldn’t take the pain any longer, whenever she looked at him she was back in deep desire and willing to open up all of her orifices to the man of her dreams.

  Now though, she felt like shit. If her lady labyrinth had not have been killing her, she probably would have been trying to force some sick up from all the booze that had been thrust down her throat. But her hangover was the least of her worries that morning.

  Hobbling from the toilet like Tina Turner after a twenty-four hour bareback ride, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

  ‘Morning,’ she mumbled, as she saw her mum sat at the table with an undoubtedly Irish coffee.

  ‘Morning, love,’ was the groggy response from her mother.

  She was slender, like Felicity and had short, curly auburn hair which was complimented by at least six gold hoop earrings dangling from her droopy ears. Her face was worn, as though she hadn’t slept in years and her lips were wrinkled from the forty a day that she smoked. Beverley, Felicity’s mum, liked to think of herself as a social smoker, who only smoked when she drank. The problem was that Beverley drank from the moment that she got up in the morning until the moment that she rolled back into bed.

  ‘Did you have a good night last night, sweetheart?’ she asked dazed.

  ‘Yeah, it was alright,’ Felicity dismissed.

  She had given up telling her mum anything about her life, as she wouldn’t remember it for long. When her mum had been emitted to hospital and Felicity had been forced to cancel her traveling plans, Beverley had blanked out any recollection of her daughters dreams and simply said, ‘Well, there will be other holidays, darling.’ For Felicity the trip was not a holiday, it was a life change. And the fact that her mother couldn’t remember that cut even deeper.

  ‘Stand up straight, my lovely, you’re walking like a duck.’

  It was typical how Beverley managed to notice this in her drunken blur but very little else.

  ‘Oh, fuck off!’ Felicity retorted, grabbing the carton of juice from the fridge and storming out.

  ‘Oooh!’ Beverley mocked. ‘Make sure you put that juice back in the fridge when you’re done, won’t you? Felicity?’

  There was no answer. But it didn’t matter because no sooner had Beverley asked the question, she had forgotten it.

  Felicity’s plan had been to curl up in the lounge and watch shit Sunday morning TV. Now though, she couldn’t face the thought of being anywhere near her mother and so she hurried back up the stairs to her room.

  Her bedroom was huge. Felicity’s father had left when she was fifteen. He had been unable to cope with Beverley’s habit any longer and so, after much deliberation, he had emigrated to the South of France. Felicity’s brother, David, had been twenty-two when it had happened and had moved with him. He had wanted to take Felicity too but Beverley had used the school weapon and so Felicity was made to stay. As compensation for abandoning his child with an alcoholic mother, Felicity’s father had kept the house and visited at least once a year. He felt as though he was doing the best that he could. Felicity, on the other hand, felt that both him and David had taken the easy way out and left her to clear up the mess. It made her sick. Nevertheless, the house was gorgeous. It was a detached Victorian building with tall, elegant corniced ceilings and over priced furnishings. Everything was white or cream and an eclectic mix of luxurious fabrics, purchased in happier times, were scattered throughout.

  Felicity’s room had a large king-size bed that sat opposite a huge black cast iron fireplace. Her fitted wardrobe had six doors and would be capable of holding a van load of immigrants. Her walls were white and scattered with paintings, as well as some Marilyn Monroe pictures hung lovingly around the room.

  Felicity loved Marilyn and longed for a body like hers. When asked by the plastic surgeon what she wanted from the operation Felicity had said Marilyn’s breasts and that was what she expected to get. The operation date was now just over a month away but for Felicity it was not soon enough. Sean had made numerous comments about her miniscule molehills, despite the fact that she had managed to keep her highly padded bra on throughout. Now though, she wished that she had kept on her knickers as well.

  Whilst she flicked through the channels and downed some juice from the carton, she pondered the night before. On one hand, she could not believe that her long envisioned fantasy of passionate sex with Sean had been realized. On the other hand, his pole had been like a weapon of mass destruction. To make matters worse, she was finding it hard to suss out exactly what he was feeling. It was like he wanted her but didn’t particularly like her. Usually Felicity wouldn’t have minded being used for sex. But with Sean it was different, he was hot, but she had an awful feeling that he didn’t feel the same.

  As Felicity re-evaluated the entire course of yesterday, her phone beeped with a text message. It was Sean.

  ‘U woz hot last nite. 3 agen 2nite?’

  Felicity could only presume that this meant free again tonight as opposed to an offer of a threesome. As much as she would have loved to have seen Sean, the thought of her already severely rammed lady organs being put through that sort of pounding any time soon was not even conceivable. Playing the dating game, however, she read through the text once more, before putting her phone down and attempting to leave it at least an hour before replying. But the text had dramatically lightened her mood and the temptation to reply as soon as possible was overwhelming. So Felicity decided to text Stacey instead.

  ‘Call me when up. Guess where I was last night? Xxx’

  Afterwards Felicity stared gormlessly at the episode of ‘Friends’ that she had seen a million times and started to think about Derek. She felt terrible for leading him on but she hadn’t really realized that she was doing it. There was just something about Derek that intrigued her. She didn’t fancy him. He wasn’t ugly but he certainly wasn’t her type. She went for arrogant arseholes and Derek was as far from that as you could get. He was a similar age to Felicity’s brother, David, although they were at hugely different stages in their lives. David was married to a gorgeous but moody French lady called Sofia, with which he had two spoilt little kids. Derek, however, was single and living alone. Felicity had wondered for a while whether Derek had actually ever done the deed. He had a sexual innocence about him that she had never seen in a man beyond sixteen in Crackerley. But she hadn’t wanted to ask him in fear of embarrassing him.

  Just at that moment, the phone rang. It was Stacey.

  ‘Where the fuck were you, you dirty stop out?’

  ‘Morning, Stace.’

  ‘Yep, morning. So where were you? Don’t tell me you got laid. You didn’t, did ya? Did you get laid?’

  ‘Yes, I got laid. I’m not that ugly you know.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant…I just meant… well you know what I meant. So who was it?’

  ‘Who do you think it was?’

  ‘I don’t know, Felicity. I’ve got no idea!’

  ‘Think about it, Stacey.’

  ‘Not Sean?’

  Felicity was silent.

  ‘Not Sean?’ Stacey repeated.

  Felicity began squealing down the phone like an ADHD mouse.

  ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe Sean slept with you. You slept with Sean, how fucking amazing is that? He’s so hot.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Felicity replied, taking the back handed compliment
well.

  ‘Was he amazing? I bet he was, wasn’t he? Did he have a big cock? I bet he had a right proper black man’s cock!’

  ‘Stacey!’ Felicity distracted in protest.

  ‘Well, did he?’

  Felicity paused, ‘It was the biggest one I’ve ever seen!’

  ‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Stacey screamed excitedly down the phone. ‘I knew it would be, you can tell by the way he walks. You are so fucking lucky!’

  ‘Yeah, except for the fact that I can’t walk, I can’t pee and I now have a permanent bucket for a fanny.’

  ‘No, you won’t, it’ll soon bounce back. Look at me, mine always does.’

  Felicity highly doubted that Stacey’s hole had any stretch left in it whatsoever and could quite imagine it wafting around in the wind. She figured that if Stacey were to ever bring a poor unsuspecting baby into the world, that the labour would be a five minute job.

  ‘So are you gonna see him again?’ Stacey enthused jealously.

  ‘He just texted me actually, asked if I was free later.’

  ‘Oh my God, so he’s totally into you then.’

  ‘Uh, I don’t really know. Maybe. I guess so.’

  ‘He so is, it’s not even midday and he’s texted you. That is so against the rules.’

  ‘He was a bit of a cock yesterday to be honest.’

  ‘So what? All that testosterone and he’s bound to be. So what time are you gonna meet him?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to. I can’t really walk properly. He’s ripped me to shreds.’

  ‘So what? I’ll have him if you like.’

  ‘Stacey!’

  ‘Yeah, alright, alright. Just make sure you meet up with him before it’s too late. You need to make the most of what he’s got, while you’ve got it. You lucky fucking cow!’

  Felicity could hear her name being screeched from downstairs.

  ‘I’ve got to go, mate, my mum’s going off on one.’