Uschi!

by Tony Ungawa

  “Glad you asked. Before I went to purchase grass, I made a phone call to your boss. I told him I was your girlfriend and about as politely as I could phrase it informed him in an articulate and precise manner that you were done working for him. Actually, to be wholly truthful with you, I wasn’t exactly all polite with him in our conversation. The, uh, words fuckface and diseased douchebag and horseshit-for-brains popped up surprisingly frequent in the productive time together we shared. There might also have been made references to his mother and wife a time or two. They were heat of the moment type of things that just jumped from my mouth before I could stop myself. Things such as how I was frightfully confident Momma enjoyed giving blowjobs to farm animals and the dear old wife had a certain interest in brushing her teeth with the runny diaherra from the poorly kept sanitary assholes of circus clowns. Needless to say, best thing, don’t expect a letter of recommendation from the guy.”

  Denny wondered what a heartattack might feel like. Because right that moment, with Uschi’s calm explanation still ringing in his ears, he began to experience a sudden tightness in his chest and a difficulty breathing fine and a sense of numbness in a few of his extremities.

  He didn’t have a job. But those bills were going to keep coming in and needing to be paid. The groceries had to be bought. What were they going to do? How were they going to get by? The Republicans were in power, which meant the economy was shit and jobs were mucho scarce.

  “Uschi … oh, Uschi … love of my life Uschi … why on earth would you do something like get me fired from my job?”

  “You don’t need a job anymore. You are free, you big swinging dick. Time to start doing only what you want to do. Other people need employment and responsibilities. Not us. We’re renegades. Free and wild and gonna fuck around with whatever we might want to fuck around with.”

  “I can’t do this. You just can’t do this to me. I can’t let you take control of my life like this. This is getting way too Kelly LeBrock and Anthony Michael Hall in Weird Science on me. I hate that movie—no nudity and Vernon Wells doesn’t have enough screen time. Uschi, you’re not here to try and make me better somehow. You’re here for me to fuck, suck and fondle however I want whenever I want. Forgive me for being so blunt, but it really needs to be told to you like it is.”

  When Denny Gleeth was done he gave himself mental congratulations for keeping the whining down as he spoke.

  For that little speech Uschi gave Denny a hug and a pat on the ass. “That’s cute,” she said. “You’re trying to take charge. Best thing, sweet lover of mine, you’re not ready to be bossy like that. But give it time. When I’m done getting you in shape, you’ll give commands stern enough to make Superman’s Kryptonian asshole pucker. In the meanwhile, keep it Mark Hamill in Corvette Summer cool and go with the flow I set for us.”

  He put his face in his hands. Not a good morning. He wanted to hurt. He was yearning to burn himself numerous times with a cigarette lighter.

  “You’ll see, best thing, I’m doing us nothing but positives. At Blockbuster you were forced to live your life in the pan and scan format, but from now on it’s going to be nothing but widescreen letterbox. Doesn’t that sound like a winner? Huh? What do you say, sweetness? You gonna talk to me?”

  Uschi tickled him along the ribs, and Denny slapped her hands aside and took a step back from her. Now he was pissed. Bad enough she cost him his job, stole his DVD player money, was without his permission socializing with known drug addicts and criminals, and now she wanted to tease him like he was he was a five-year-old. He tried staring hard into her face, putting his anger and disgust with her all out there showing in his expression.

  Uschi initiated a plan to change his attitude. She undid her cutoff shorts and exposed for him her privates. She placed fingers on opposite sides of her vagina and manipulated the labia like it was a vertical puppet’s mouth. “Hi, this is Patty the pussy reminding you,” she said in a silly Deputy Dog cartoon voice. “Get your head out of your ass and wipe that shit right the fucking hell out of your eyes and start enjoying life to its fullest, you motherfucker.”

  That got Denny to grinning. And from there it was but a quick hop, skip and a jump before he was laughing out loud.

  “Aw, what the hell,” he said. “I made a deal with myself whatever you wanted to do I’d go with it. Didn’t think it would be to the unemployment office. But whatever. Okay, you’ve got the reins, honey. Unbelievable. Why am I letting you do this? Why am I letting you manipulate me like this with so little resistance coming from me?”

  “Because we’re in love—and you totally know I’m right.”

  “I see.”

  “Hey, you still don’t look a hundred percent convinced.” She peeled the rainbow suspenders off and her gravity defying water balloon breasts became fully bared. “Why don’t you suckle on one of my titties for a while? That should take a fair amount of the edge off. You got a preference for which tit?”

  “Think I’ll go with the left one, thank you.”

  Chapter Eight

  She made Denny strip naked as a jaybird and on the living room floor lay out over an old Close Encounters of the Third Kind beach towel. He was face up and in good proximity to the television. A goodly sum of Denny’s anatomy never got touched by so much as a hint of sunlight, so most of his body’s complexion was as white as toothpaste.

  The television was tuned to a far down the dial UHF channel showing Zapped! for its early afternoon movie. Scott Baio and Willie Ames at their ’80’s best. The delightful scene where Heather Thomas explodes out of her pink sweater had come and gone, so Denny had no trouble giving Uschi all his attention.

  Equally as naked as her man, Uschi sat close beside him. Her mighty porn star valkayre bazongas hovered pendulously over Denny like two green moons of decayed flesh. A heavy platinum lock of hair was gone rogue from the rest of her hairstyle and was hanging down over one eye and giving her a Captain Harlok half-face. Just for shit and giggles she got into his Hasbro action figure collection and balanced a WWF Honky Tonk Man, complete with guitar in hand, square in the center of his forehead. Personally, Denny would have preferred Papa Shango. The voodoo witch doctor of professional wrestling was the cooler dude.

  They were sharing a big joint rolled out of the copyright page from a Max Allan Collins paperback mystery and using an empty Dr Pepper can cut in two for an ashtray. A bag of nacho cheese Doritos was close by, and every once in a while she would feed him a few chips.

  She put the joint to his mouth. He inhaled and was reluctant to relinquish the best kind of smoke there was from his lungs. How perfectly Cheech and Chong he was. The inside of Denny’s skull was feeling like a brand new bottle of aspirin sitting on a pharmacy shelf: brain packed in tight with plenty of soft, comfortable cotton balls for insulation. None of his problems were forgotten, but it all seemed farther off now; didn’t seem any longer to require as much need or worry over any of it. Right now, this moment in this universe, everything felt nice and okay. Lungs achieving the burn, he finally relented and exhaled.

  He’d gotten quite good at this dope smoking business in a surprisingly short amount of time. There hadn’t been a coughing or gagging fit in some time now. The raw soreness in his throat had started to ease. It was all coming in and going out easy and fine.

  Now was Uschi’s turn with the spliff. She smoked and worked at shaving his pubes off. A mellow Denny watched through half-lidded eyes as his homemade zombie girlfriend sprayed room temperature cool shaving cream on her hand and thoroughly rubbed it in around and on his genitals. Then she went to town on him with a Bic disposable razor. Slowly, gently, carefully and expertly Uschi performed her task. The erection he sported made it easier for her to maneuver around the penis. Every few strokes she would pause to rinse the razor off in the Tupperware bowl full of warm water she kept in close reach.

  Denny had never been shaved by anyone but himself before. Never had anyone in his life handled him with such a loving and sensual touch.r />
  “You haven’t ever seen the ocean, have you, best thing?”

  Along with the question he asked her, Denny could distinctly hear the small but unmistakable scrapping-scratchy sounds of the Bic razor cutting down the hairs on his balls. She removed the joint from her lips and offered him another hit. He accepted the hit, and then answered her while a hazy fog of marijuana smoke was drifting between the two of them. “Aw, I’d love to see me the ocean.” The Honky Tonk Man balanced on his brow maybe wavered for a moment the slightest bit as his lips were in action, but besides that was in no danger of falling over. “That’d be Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange special. It don’t matter to me if it’s the Pacific or the Atlantic, I just want to see with my own eyes the actual ocean. I’ve never been out of the Dallas and Fort Worth Metroplex my whole life. I’ve visited a lake and a few creeks, but that’s all chickenshit. Before I die I want to at least once stand on a beach somewhere barefoot and let the wet sand go between my toes and listen to the surf slap the shore. I want to know what a sea breeze smells like. I can’t swim for shit, but I think I could manage flopping around in a few waves.”

  “I’m gonna make sure, best thing, you get to spend as much time on the beach as you desire. Soon as we are done with a few endeavors I’m sure are going to do you and your attitude of self-worth a world of positive, we’ll get on that.”

  “And I want to get a tattoo. I’ve long held a secret wish to get inky.”

  “Okay. What kind of tattoo?”

  “Maybe get Vampira over my heart and a saluting Bub from Day of the Dead on my arm.”

  “Baby, you can have all that and more. I promise you.”

  The shaving was completed. She helped herself to a washrag left soaking in the bowl of water and cleaned him off. Next Uschi lowered her face to Denny’s crotch and rubbed her cheek against the area of now bare skin directly above his penis. Contact such as this made his already hard dick throb and purple and ache for action. It stood straight like a fence post and bumped against her chin now and then. “Mmmm,” she purred. “There we go. Smooth as a baby’s ass.”

  She rose up and stared him in the face. She ran her hand over his chin and lower lip. The way she was touching him was tender, sweet, enjoyed. “Have you ever thought about growing a beard? Maybe a nice goatee?”

  “That’s one of them little beards that joins up with the mustache to circle the mouth, right?”

  “Correctamundo.”

  Denny had to laugh. “I did that I’d probably with my luck end up looking like a goddamn Klingon—classic original series style, not the post Motion Picture and Next Generation brow ridges breed.”

  “Buttfucked in Lubbock,” Uschi trilled. “That’s a groovy thought. You would make a bitching Klingon.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, I know so. You’d be G’Leeth, son of Kang, of the house of Kurn. I can picture you as the proud and fierce captain of the Empire’s most honored and feared Bird of Prey. Your name would be bandied about with envious admiration in the halls of the Klingon High Council and a curse on the lips of Starfleet admirals at Federation war rooms.”

  “Uh, you’re kind of loosing me on this. Besides, I’m more a Star Wars man myself. Might be I’d look more like that dorky John Candy fat X-wing fighter pilot that gets blown to shit on the attack on the Death Star?”

  “Jek Porkins,” stated Uschi.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The character you’re talking about, his name is Jek Porkins. Also known as Red Six.”

  “Do tell? Lucas actually took the time and effort to give that guy a name?”

  “Well, more likely Kenner toys gave the character his name and George Lucas allowed it.”

  That was scary detailed knowledge of Star Wars lore. Awesome! If she should start spouting arcane information on the films of Sam Fuller, then he might just have to break down and ask her to marry him.

  “It wouldn’t matter who you look like,” Uschi said. “You’d still be the prettiest thing going.”

  His hearing her say that last part harmed his high. He winced and the upset Honky Tonk Man fell backwards and tumbled off his head and settled on the carpet. “Don’t,” he told her. “Don’t make up stories. Okay? I know what I look like.”

  “I don’t follow, best thing.”

  “Honey, we both know I’m far shy of being an attractive man.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “It’s true, darling. I know my place in the world. I’m ugly. People have never found me attractive and they never will. It’s not always the easiest thing for me to accept, but I try and make do. I mean, sure, I would love for folks to get an eyeful of me and think me good looking. Absolutely. Be desired by others for just one day in my life would be great. I can remember when I was still living with my parents and we’d be watching a movie and Mom would see some Hollywood pretty boy with the perfect teeth and nice physique and absence of any belly and I’d have to hear her talk on and on about how much of a cutie he was. She’d often times look over at me and ask things like, ‘Don’t you wish you could be a cutie like that?’ And she would be sure to point out her and Daddy was attractive and popular when they were my age. What went wrong with me? What did they do to deserve a fuck up for a son? The girls who come into Blockbuster are the same way. They all love the cuties and point and snicker at me when they think I’m not looking and write me off as this useless and ugly loser. I know that they do. I don’t want you lying to me to try and make me feel better about myself.”

  “You are the handsomest man to me, best thing. No bullshit. I swear it.”

  Denny supposed he should believe her. Believe Uschi because that was probably what Satan programmed her to believe. Made her love him, didn’t he? Why not as well make Uschi look upon him as something at the least passably beautiful. He supposed he could live with that.

  He smiled up at her. Her decomposition feminine musk was drifting down to him and reminding him it was good to be a healthy heterosexual zombie-fucking male past the legal age of consent.

  Anxious for a new way to please her man, Uschi repositioned herself between Denny’s thighs, her hands sensitively pushing his legs apart like a scissor’s blades separating.

  This is about to get very interesting, deduced Denny. Curious to keep up with her movements, he raised his head off the floor and stared past his erection.

  She was by this time on all fours, green from rot ass elevated high and shoulders and head brought down low and hefty tits resting on the floor. Her face was directly above his groin region. Filmy white dead eyes meeting with his own ping pong balls Steve Buscemi eyeballs, Uschi opened her mouth very wide and her tongue, slimed in dripping saliva, slipped out.

  She brushed her tongue tip over his scrotum. The tongue went over the left testicle, lapping at it like an affectionate dog licking its master’s face. This lasted but a fleeting single second.

  “Whoa!” commented a surprised Denny. Did she really just do that? That was certainly the last thing he anticipated being acted upon him today when he climbed out of bed this morning.

  It was only the beginning, a small tease before the main event was under way. His undead buttercup now held no reservations on going full tilt boogie with tongue stroking on Denny’s nutsack. Her dogged dedication to the procedure was detailed and admirable. She quickly made things saturated and sopping.

  Then she put his balls in her mouth and sucked on them. The pressure she prescribed to this sucking the perfect amount, neither too hard nor too soft. It was flawless. What teeth action there was was nice and appreciated, never biting down too rough and only these occasional little love nips. She moaned and groaned around her mouthful and had eye contact with Denny and watched him watch her suck his testicles.

  When reasoning she had her best thing’s sex motor revved up super hot and horny, Uschi used the fat middle portion of her tongue to push him out of her mouth. The fresh air on his spit-slimed scrotum made things feel a shade chilly. The lipsti
ck ring left circling his sack tacky and blood red.

  Her adventurous tongue explored his cock, slithering up the shaft and tickling the tip. She accepted the dork into her mouth and began to pump him. Denny very soon was informing the top of her going up and down head he didn’t think he could hold back for any longer, and she answered by raising a hand and giving him the thumbs up. It’s okay, best thing, she was telling him, fire the torpedo.

  He released into her.

  She sat up straight and with lips peeled back showed him what she had caught in her mouth. The sperm, gooey and thick as warmed jelly, seeped between her teeth and dribbled past her lower lip. It paused for a brief moment to dangle on her chin before falling to the top of her left breast, where it pooled like birdshit dropped from a fair height.

  Denny shuddered in the afterglow of his commendable orgasm. Metaluna mutant menstruating, that was one of the best one’s yet. Smoking pot had him baked as fine as frog hairs. Truly he was feeling so way out he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

  Uschi placed an arm under her titties, lifted and smooshed them firmly together. She used her free hand to absently start playing finger painting with the cum collected on her breast. She displayed talent with the spunk, managing to draw a small Valentine’s day heart and had just enough remaining to write below it U + D 4 EVER.

  “Can I ask you a bit of a favor, best thing?”

  “Sure.” His bloodshot eyes were unfocused. “Sure.”

  “It’s just a little something I’d really be thrilled to do.”

  “Ask away.”

  And now she laid herself down on top of him and molded her figure against his. She could feel the vibrations from his beating heart pass from his body and into hers. Her added weight pressing down on his chest compromised his breathing some, made him pant from the mouth and wheeze a little. She put her mouth next to his ear. Her breath was like a splash of bleach tossed onto the floor of an autopsy room. In a soft, wet whisper she asked, “Ooo, pretty please with sugar on top, best thing, will you take me dancing tonight?”