top of page

Cheek Fever



Your mom’s ass was like a human Rorschach test. It drove everyone crazy, but everyone crazy in their own little way. For your dad, it was a source of great stress. He had known and loved your mom, and she him in return, since long before the fat of her cheeks tripled in size in proportion to the rest of her body. By the time her ass hit its growth spurt, he stood aside, watching it grow with a curious horror, fearing it would bump her out of his league and into the lap of somebody else, maybe the quarterback of the football team. It was just too extreme in its femininity, and he witnessed awestruck as your mom became the ideal of all male ideals for women right before his unbelieving eyes, like living in a house for years, and only discovering it sat over oil the moment when raiders had made their way into the neighborhood.


Your mom’s parents’ reactions were their own monsters altogether. Her mom, who was flat in the ass, sat with a knowing I-told-you-so face, as she sat looking at it as your mom washing her hands in the sink. Your grandmother smoked with her head nodding and her legs crossed and she shot a mean glance at her husband across from the table. She had told her husband that her sister’s ass, the one which had brought problems to the family like a plague, would reincarnate itself in the body of your mother. Your grandfather insisted it couldn’t happen, fearing the ass he had desired more than any other, would make itself repulsive to him in becoming the very same in his own daughter. As he started to realize your grandmother was right, his hair began falling out in patches.


He was right to be nervous.


Your grandfather’s young employee, who was only a few years older than your mom, saw her as a catalyst for strategizing. He didn’t know how to get that ass, but he knew he needed it, no matter what, and after her had drove her home a few times, realizing that she was faithful to her boyfriend (your father), he got to work on plans to get her away from him, drunk or drugged, so that he could explore the shape of that perfect ass in peace. It was the kind of thing he knew would have to work, however remote the possibility, because he knew that so few would expect it to even be tried.


He had almost succeeded in his project, managing to catch her at the bar on her friend’s 21st birthday, separating her from her friends and boyfriend as she got drunker, walking her over to the bar a few doors down for some privacy with her. When he slipped her the pill in her drink at the next bar, he almost did so in front of her eyes, as her level of drunkenness, a level he helped facilitate, made it hard for her to see the world other than as a giant throbbing blur. When she began sipping from the drink she had ostensibly just saw him drop a pill into, he felt like a big man for the first time in his life. It felt amazing the amount of control one could manage with just a little initiative, and when that control could be exerted over a woman, especially one as beautiful in face and body as your mom, it almost certainly could be counted among life’s sweetest pleasures.


He managed to sneak her outside, and he guided her stumbling body to a cab. His limbs throbbed with excitement, and his fleshed crawled pleasurably, as he felt her ass, too drunk to even know where she was, pressed against the side of his. Because he lived with his girlfriend, he had told the cab driver to take the two of them to a Motel 8, and as he sat there next to her, he looked out the window, the streets and night light themselves almost taking on her beauty and the beauty of what he knew he was going to do to her once he had the chance, the two sweetest beauties he knew. All the while, as he admired the world without, the cab driver took every opportunity to steal glances through his rear-view mirror, getting a good look at the object of desire which sat there defenceless in the back of his cab.


He left your mom in the cab and went inside to buy the room alone, stuttering nervously as he talked with the clerk. His excitement only contributed to his anxiety, his expectant joy bringing only nervousness, the greatest paradox of life. But he knew he need only suffer through it a few moments longer and his prize would be waiting for him after it was all said and done, laying there in the back of that cab, with her dress and her open-toed shoes. And then he’d have her on that motel bed, laying on top of its fresh sheets, removing each shoe, foot by foot, an then there was only that dress to be removed, whether it was hiked upward, or dragged down to the floor.


He thought about all of this, it only contributing to his nervousness, as the clerk finished the busy work. After securing the room, and knowing for sure that the clerk didn’t suspect anything, he turned around, elated, with the room key in hand, ready to pull his prize from the cab.


He walked outside, room key in hand, and he pushed through the lobby door. And then he froze.


He glared at the empty space where the cab use to be.


The cab driver looked back at your mom laying there, her ass sweet and curvy in her dress. He looked at it as a gift from God, and said as much on the phone with his cousin and two friends listening on the other end. He convinced them all to meet at his cousin’s house, arguing with them, trying to convince them that he was serious, them assuming that it was another drunk fatso he had nabbed. It’s not that they didn’t enjoy the last fat white woman he had brought to the clubhouse, it was more that they were concerned with not getting their hopes up again.


Sure enough, they stood by the front door with their mouths open as they watched their friend, who had a penchant for tall tales, drag your mom from the back of his cab and take her toward the door of their hangout place. Within moments, they were all helping him move her.


Their dry hands chafed against her smooth, well-hydrated flesh. The woman they had in their greedy palms was exactly the kind they scrolled through the images of on Instagram every moment they had on break. Pretty, shapely, and most of all, white. She was young enough to be their daughter as well.


Unfortunately for them, your mom’s cousin lived one house over and, not recognizing your mom, got turned on by the shape of the woman he had watched them drag inside. Rather than roll his eyes this time, having seen them do this to significantly less attractive women before, he snuck up to their window this time and watched through it, as your mom, turned away from him, had her dress hiked up to her waist, and her underwear hiked down to her knees. He removed his pants, watching their brown hands swarming around the giant ass like spiders, clawing at her cheeks, pulling them apart and inserting fingers knuckle deep into her holes, pulling her enormous cheeks, which almost became as much an obstacle as they were a point of attraction, out of the way in order to do so.


It would have been an unforgettable night for them had her cousin not been there, because when they turned her around, readying her to drop onto her first brown cock, they suddenly heard screaming from the window.


“I’ll fucking call the cops right now! I have your license plate and everything. Let her go!”


They couldn’t see the owner of the voice in the outside darkness, but they all stood aside from her, giving her a foot of distance each, as they looked down at the ground. Her cousin came in through the front door, his pants hastily pulled up and belted, and they couldn’t bring themselves to look at him, each terrified that they’d be arrested, convicted and deported.


“Please sir. We were just helping her. We-“


Her cousin moved toward her quickly, ignoring them. He checked to see if she was alright. She was blacked out, but she seemed to be fine otherwise. He picked up her discarded underwear and dress in one hand, and picked her naked body up, cradling her by her shoulders and the back of her knee-caps. He felt her ass against his slightly protruding belly.


The men, dejected beyond all belief, saw the flash of her hanging feet cross the window outside after he left the house.


Her cousin took her back to his place, getting into his house quickly before the light of his open front door could illuminate her for a concerned onlooker. He dropped her on his couch, facedown.


He sat on the opposing couch and looked at her. Her ass lifted and dropped as she breathed.


What were the chances it would be you? he thought. If only you were anyone else, I could have let them have their fun. If you were anyone else lying here, I’d be having my own little night of fun.


He stopped to think about it, then he laughed to himself. But if it was anyone else, they wouldn’t have the ass that you have, would they now?


He thought about the tragedy of it, and was amused when he realized that his cock had been throbbing since he saw them pull her out of the cab. This had been the first naked woman he had ever had in his house. On top of that, she had the nicest ass he had ever seen. He looked from side to side mischievously, thinking what’s the harm of me jacking off to it? Nobody’s watching.


As his cock got hard in his massaging hands on the opposing couch, a dumb idea came to him in a flash like lightning, as they often do. This one would prove to be the dumbest idea he had ever thought of in his entire life.


Rather than just enjoy the sight before him, he reached for his phone, grabbed and opened up snapchat. Moments later, he was leaning against that ass, cheek to cheek (so-to-speak), taking photos for a story that would only be seen by his friends and some of his male co-workers at the mine. Below in text it said: “look at this unlucky lady. God bless blue velvet, it’s given me the best way to spend this Saturday night.”


He posted it, expecting begrudging congratulations and jealously. But in his world of inaction, he never suspected that action could follow desire, at least not implicitly, and it was only moments before he got his first few requests in the vain of: “yo, let me swing by.”


“No,” he texted back, smiling.


Then the second text came. Then the third. Fourth. Fifth.


He was no longer smiling.


Within fifteen minutes, he sat on the edge of the couch your mom was on, her body hastily covered over with her own dress, the bottom of her butt-cheeks still peeking out, as the front door’s doorknob violently clicked back and forth. He saw fists banging on his window and heard screaming for him outside. “Let us in, you fuck!”


The Pakistani men stood on their front lawn, watching the commotion happening next door, with a small cloud of white men bunching up around the door and window of their neighbor’s house.


Before your mom’s cousin could make a mistake calling the cops, a full beer bottle was jettisoned through his window, hitting your mom’s right butt-cheek, which absorbed most of the impact, and flipping up along the back-rest of the couch, scarring the upholstery in various places, before disappearing behind it.


Your mom’s cousin got up with your mom in his arms, stuffing her dress and underwear into his pocket with an implicit understanding that he’d be needing them later. He ran to his bedroom and after some frantic and desperate thoughts, including the stupid idea of throwing her out the back window, he saw his cello, in its case, leaning against his wall.


Just as he stepped out of his bedroom, he saw two of his co-workers speed-walking down the hall at him.


“Where is this ‘unlucky lady’ you have stashed?”


“She… what?”


“Oh, don’t play stupid. At least not any dumber than you normally are. We know you have her. You posted it yourself.”


“I…”


The other one approached quickly, backing him up into his own bedroom. “You planning on fucking all night without cumming? Or are you going to fuck that ass even after your cum? Come on man, sharing is caring. You’re going to be done with her at some point.”


“I… I already got rid of her.” He fell backward onto the mattress, tripping onto his own bed. He looked up at his accusers. More joined them from behind. It was amazing the meanness in a man’s face that was always inevitably brought out by a perfect ass. Cheek Fever some called it.


One of the guys, the impromptu ring leader of this invasive force, looked around the room while listening to the homeowner’s excuses. There was an old tube TV on a stand, hooked up to a record player, stacks of jazz albums on the dresser, posters of Miles Davis and Charles Mingus, a burgundy-brown cello leaning against the wall, a small shin-high shelf with a few books and blu-ray discs in it, and a bed in the middle of the room. None of it was out of the ordinary.


“You ever fuck an ass that nice before?” asked the ring-leader without looking at his interviewee.


“No,” he replied, hastily. “Never. It’s the best ass I ever had.”


“That’s quite the fish you caught. I thought you didn’t use blue.”


“I didn’t,” he replied. “Tonight was my first time.”


“Ahh,” his inquisitor said. “What an amazing catch for a first time. I’ve been painting blue for a while, especially back before possession of it was illegal. Never, in my dozens of times pinking girls, did I ever get an ass that nice. Not bad for a first-timer.” He then pointed toward the closet. “What’s in there?”


Beads of sweat were manifesting on the cousin’s forehead. “Nothing,” he said, barely audible.


“Don’t mind if we check then?”


“Just don’t… heh… just don’t mess anything up.” His eyes were red. His tongue visibly white with dryness.


The ring leader pointed at his host as he moved towards the closet doors, not looking at him as he spoke. “For sure. I’ll treat your closet with more delicate care than you treated that ass. I’m sure you made a big old mess of that thing.”


Your mom’s cousin laughed as naturally as he could muster. “You know it,” he managed to eek out.


The inquisitor grabbed the closet doors, looked back at the host with a smile, and said “open sesame,” before turning around and thrusting the doors open.


Hanging clothes rattled on their hangers from the sudden disturbance in air pressure. He looked at the suits and work clothes. He parted them aside from one dividing point. Then another. Then another. A plastic filing cabinet sat off to the side within, semi-transparent, filled with nothing but papers and junk. A black cello case lay against it and old shoes of various types cluttered the carpeting below. He turned around and looked at the host, too taken aback to be perfectly clever. “Wh-where’d you take her too? Like a back alley or a park? Maybe she’s still-“


“I honestly don’t know,” he replied, gaining a sudden confidence. “I gave her to my buddy. He was… um… he was here with me tonight and he said he’d get rid of her.”


The inquisitor scratched his beard with his thumbnail, his mouth hanging open, his bravado deflated. “Hopefully he took her to an alley,” he said, almost helpfully. “They… alleys don’t have cameras like parks do, and sometimes bums find them and can have some fun with ‘em too. You know? They live hard enough of a life as is. So… It’s a nice little treat…”


“Yeah,” your mom’s cousin said. “It was for us, so… it must be great for them.”


“Oh yeah,” said the invader. “Yeah… they fuck like rabbits… those homeless men do. Very exciting for them.”


Your mom’s cousin laughed to himself, genuinely this time, as if he had just thought of something funny. “Well,” he said with a humorous confidence. “She always did like helping the homeless.”


There was a silence in the room.

“What do you mean: always?”


He looked around frantically at the five sets of eyes glaring at him. “I… uh…”


“Who was this woman to you?”


“She was just the girlfriend of some guy we know,” shot out.


“No.” He shook his head. “If that’s what she was, you would have told us that. On top of that, you wouldn’t have gotten rid of her before we could come. That’s why you did it, didn’t you? Because I told you I was coming.”


“No,” he said, shaking his head frantically.


“Yes, she is. Is she… is she your cousin?”


Your mom’s cousin stood there, shocked.


“I just figured,” said the guy. “That’s close enough that you’d feel the need to protect her from us, but far enough that you’d be willing to fuck her. Plus it would be easier for you, being kind of shy and indecisive, to drug her than to do it to a stranger. You guys probably didn’t even go out tonight. She just came by and you slipped it in her drink.”


Your mom’s cousin liked how cleanly this wrapped it all up in a perfect little bow, propelling him toward agreeing with this assessment, but he had trouble committing to admitting that he fucked his cousin’s ass, especially considering that he never took it that far, and didn’t even want to.


“It’s okay,” his guest said. “It’s not your fault her ass is so big and perfect. It’s the ass you were after, just two pieces of flesh, not your cousin. It’s no use letting social convention get in the way of a good time anyways, right?”


Your mom’s cousin looked at him, seeing his earnestness. He slowly nodded his head in the affirmative, a gesture that wasn’t just in response to his words, seeking to affirm them for the sake of simplicity, but also done in genuine revelation of the truth of what his co-worker was telling him. It was only two pieces of flesh. What was the harm in enjoying them? It’s not like he believed in a higher power, overseeing and watching, judging his actions.


And as the guys apologized, offering to pay for the smashed window collectively, getting ready to leave, he realized that they were a blessing in disguise, because after their advice to him, once they’ve left for good, leaving him alone, he was going to be having the time of his life, going the whole nine with his cousin’s fat ass. He said bye to them on the doorstep, watching them walk out into the night, and his arm trembled as he shut the door. Once he did, he felt the lower half of his body go electric. He headed back to his room with a determined energy, a smile plastered across his face.


“Wow,” one of the guys said as they walked down his front lawn with the others. “I wouldn’t have expected this from him.”


“What do you mean?” the ring leader asked. “It’s the quiet ones you have to look out for most. When they can’t get girls the normal way, they have to be creative. Not just with how, but with who.”


“I know,” the other one insisted. “But it’s just not his style. I remember back when he was saving up for his cello, I offered to get him in on selling some of the new work equipment. We just use the old stuff like it was new, and take the new stuff and hock it. But he wouldn’t do it. Not even the one time for his cello. So he was stuck with his old one. Kind of ironic when you think abou-“


“Wait!” The ring-leader’s arm shot out and hit his talking friend in his chest.


Your mom’s cousin turned around suddenly in his room when he heard them rushing back into the house. Before he could say anything, he was clocked in the face, felling him to the ground, where two of the men kneeled on him, holding him in place. The ring-leader looked at the cello on the wall as he moved quickly toward the closet. He opened it up and looked down. There the cello case looked back up at him. He grabbed it by its neck, and when did, he could feel the soft weight shifting within.


He grinned.


“Looks like ass is back on the menu, boys!”


Your mom’s cousin began to scream, until his two co-workers pushed him down and started stomping on him. He watched helplessly as the ring-leader dragged the heavy cello case passed him, until one of the other men helped him carry it out of the room. After it was gone, the two men holding him down kicked him a few more times to incapacitate him for a moment, before following behind the others as they left.


When he heard the front door slam, he lay there in his bedroom, and the only part of him that throbbed more than his bruising forehead, or his sense of dread for his close family member, was his angry cock which throbbed at what could have been. In one last ditch effort for any scrap of satisfaction he could pull inward, he opened up his snapchat, only for it to be blank. He had deleted the snap as soon as he was getting messages for it. He was left with nothing. And as he nutted ten minutes later into a sock on that very same spot on the floor in his room, he did it to the thought of what his coworkers were doing now to his cousin, who he loved dearly. When he finished his nut, coming over the hill on the most intense orgasm he had every felt in his entire life, he began to weep, knowing it could have been so much more.


“Make sure she’s in there,” the driver called back to them.


“She is.” The cello case sat on the laps of the three of them sitting in the backseat.


“Make sure.”


“I can feel her inside. Plus he wouldn’t have freaked out if it wasn’t.”


“Are you sure it’s not his cello in there?”


“No, it’s her. I can feel her bouncing around.”


“I want to get a look,” said one of the others in the back. He began going for the latches.


“You sure? There are pigs all over the place right now.”


“Let’s just look. Only a second.” He opened the latch with feverish eyes, unable to stop himself. And as he did, the three of them who could see (the one in the passenger seat struggled to see around the lifting top of the case) all lit up. But within that same moment, one of the three, feeling the need to be mischievous, said “what the hell. There’s nothing in here.”


“What!?” said the driver, looking back, but being stone-walled by the lifted case.


Before he could be assured that it was only a joke, and that the ass they were looking for was sleeping snugly, softly breathing within that open case, the air exploded with a giant metal clang, followed by the airbag going off. The latch of the case snapped shut.


Before them sat a Chevrolet Impala, which they had rear-ended going thirty miles an hour, pushing it into the intersection. If it hadn’t been the dead of night, chances were they would have been t-boned by perpendicular traffic.


As they all settled, their eyes wide, and their erections now flaccid, the front door of the impala opened up. Then the passenger door, and just before them, like the urban version of themselves, five young black men emerged from the car, each one looking meaner than the last.


The driver was the first to think about apologizing, but before he could, everything went black and silent for him. As the others sat there, bodies tensed with horror, looking at the hole in the windshield and hearing nothing but deafening ringing, more holes forming in the windshield, one after the other, some overlapping, dust flying into the air, until nobody in the car was left breathing. Nobody except for one.


One of the black men stood aside with his gun dangling from its trigger guard in his finger. The barrel was smoking. “They got anything?” he asked his friend, who was leaning inside the window.


“Just this instrument.”


“Take that shit. They won’t be needing it now.”


When he lifted it up, he could feel the weight shift within it. “Shit,” he said, holding it next to the car. “I don’t think they got an instrument in here.”


“What do you mean?”


“Whatever it is, it’s soft.”


He went to go set it down to look, but before he could, one of the other men holding a shotgun said “The cops’ll be here any minute. If it’s drugs, it’ll be just as good when we check at the traphouse. It’s not like they hiding lit dynamite in the mother fucker. Let’s go.”


They threw the case into the trunk of the car, hearing the weight roll around within. “I say heroin,” one of them said, listening closely to the sound within it.


The other one shook his head. “Cocaine.”


“Whatever it is,” said a third one, throwing his shotgun in with the case. “It’s something white. Let’s dip and find out what we up later.”


When they got to the traphouse, they parked the car out back, opened up the trunk, and lugged the case inside.


Their friend standing by the front door had evidently seen them pull up from the window. “Yo, what the fuck happened to the car? You niggas driving through Chinatown again?”


“White boys knocked us through a red. Shut the fuck up for a second. We got something here.”


They swung the case out onto the kitchen table and clicked the latch open. Before they could open it, there was a knock at the front door, startling them.


Standing there on the other side of the screen was a rough-looking black man in about his thirties, scratching his chin as he stood on the stoup. “Yo, I need a dime sack.”


“Tell that deadbeat nigga to beat it!”


“Chill, chill, I got the grip.”


“Charles. Get him the fuck outta here. I told you this nigga never have the money.”


“No, cuz. Chill. Look.” The fiend held up a baggie filled with wadded up paper bills. “I’ve been working hard for it.”


“I don’t wanna hear about who you gave brain to to get it. What you doin’ Charles. Let this nigga in.”


The crack head was let in and as the doorman went to the back to get him what he was paying for, the crack head wandered into the kitchen. “You niggas taking up jazz?” he asked, looking at the cello.


“I hope not,” said one of the men. “I ain’t in a musical mood right now.”


Another one pointed their gun at the crackhead’s feet and said “why? You wanna dance,” jokingly.


“If it comes with a free baggie, I’ll do the polka. Shit, why not?”


“Well,” said the other. “Moment of truth.”


He grabbed the latches and clicked them up.


“If only you niggas knew jazz,” said the crackhead. “Then we could get a drumroll going.”


The man put his fingers into the crack of the case and lifted its lid, leading to it falling over on the other side.


Their jaws dropped.


Your mom, young, smooth, shapely, naked, and white lay cramped, and folded into the fetal position, within the cello case. Her body all but filling the cello case in all the right places. The way she was folded up adding to her femininity, accentuating it.


“Damn!” said the crackhead. “I knew you folks was selling white girl. But I didn’t know you was literally selling white girl.”


“Who says we selling,” said one of the men, and he grabbed her behind her kneecap and pulled her legs out of the case, allowing himself to get a better look at her bent over ass. “She a dime. Look at all this ass.”


“I don’t want to know what them white boys was up to. But thank Yahweh they hit us.”


“You damn right. They probably had this little thing lined up for a human sacrifice or some shit.” He ran the back of his black finger against the outside of her white thigh.


The one who held her foot up felt her shin brush past his shoulder, and he looked behind himself to see the crackhead holding her foot by its heel, sucking on her toes. A sudden sense of community came to him, and he lifted her leg higher to make the crackhead’s current activity easy on him. “Hell yeah. Look at my nigga go,” he said. “Sucking those pink toes like chicken bones.”


“Speaking of chicken bone,” one of them said behind him.


He turned to look and saw his friend with his cock hanging out and hard.


He slapped it against the side of your mom’s white face, which he had pulled out from the case, resting her head on its edge. “She can suck the meat from mine.” He pressed his cock in between her lips and into her wet mouth.


Within moments, she was on the kitchen floor, being stuffed in every hole by the hydra of black bodies which wrapped around her white flesh, writhing against it, like medusa’s head of snakes. She bobbed from the pressure of their bodies against hers, and the only vocal sounds made were from their moaning, grunting, and celebratory mumbles. Their black hands and thighs were like a gauntlet which locked her into place, giving only enough for the sake of her body’s movement and what it meant for their hard cocks.


The festivities though would be short-lived. The crackhead, being a crackhead, had forgotten that he was wearing a wire. His excitement over his incoming crack, which the DEA agents told him he could keep if he helped them, and the sight of the shapely white woman stuffed within the case, had cleared his mind of all other thoughts. And as the white DEA sound engineers sat in the van, listening to their impromptu informant moan with the pleasure that came from his cock being massaged by the vaginal walls of a white woman, the swat team readied their equipment desperately, not expecting to be forced to raid so soon.


Before your mom, both inside and outside, could be coated with the copious amounts of cum originating from seven black testicle sacks, the door was kicked open, men with guns running in, ready to kill.


The crackhead was the first to be shot, forgetting that he was their informant, and because of it, getting gunned down as he reached for one of the dealer’s discarded weapons. The other five scattered, with only one having the forethought to pick up your mom and take her with him as a human shield. His cock hardened against her ass cheeks as he dragged her down the hallway, hearing bullets whiz past his ears as they ricocheted through drywall and against pipes through the house. One of these bullets went through a dealer, the one with the shotgun, bounced off the stovetop and went through the wall, hit a statue of buddha holding a blunt in a bedroom, and came through the hallway wall, with only enough force now to cause your mom’s ass to wobble when it hit it and bounced off of it harmlessly.

Her captor took her to a room. The gunfire had stopped. He didn’t know what that meant, who had been left standing if anyone, until he saw the flash grenade being rolled into the floor of his room. Before he could react, he was swallowed by blinding light and sound.


Within seconds he was dead on the ground after a well-placed bullet, and many of the swat team, not seeing your mom in the darkness, stepped on her ass as they ran to the suspect.


The first one to notice her there in the darkness, the rookie of the bunch, had flashed his light down at the ground to feel the strange thing he had stepped on, fearing that he had damaged evidence. When his two-dimensional orb of light highlighted a pair of bare white souls, he slowly followed the legs up their length with his light, noticing them expand in size as he went, assuming this expansion would stop on some point, but it just kept getting bigger, until finally, like striking oil, his light had settled on the gold at the end of that rainbow.


Your mom’s butt-crack in the harsh light stared back up at him without expression.


He began to rattle in his gear, remembering what the others had told him about having fun with junkies. Would that apply to this junkie here? It wasn’t until one of the team flicked on the light, bathing the junkie in a bright yellow that he realized that ass he stood there marvelling at in the darkness didn’t belong to a junkie at all.


“Geeze,” one of the team said. “Looks like our boys had themselves some fun.”


“So will we,” the new recruit heard one of the team mumble to himself behind his head. And when he heard it, he felt a surge shoot through him.


“Yeah, and this one ain’t no junkie,” another said with a smile on his mouth.


“No, she isn’t,” another said, in an almost sing-songy way. “What is she? Twenty? If that? And she doesn’t look like the type to be hanging around with these guys at all.”


“Must have found her at the bar. Maybe they were selling outside, but they saw her go in, and they decided to let a little bit of their product meet the bottom of her glass. Who wants to bet that that’s how a pretty thing like this ended up in this shithole?” He had nudged the side of her ass with his boot when he said “pretty thing,” causing it to jiggle for a moment, and then settle as if the collective pressure of their eyes stopped its motion with their bare weight alone.


“Oh god, look at it go. I almost feel bad for not giving them an extra few minutes. She’s too perfect. Looks like a sweet girl too. Probably has a good head on her shoulders. Maybe she’s in college. She’s someone’s daughter, and probably will be someone’s mother one day. She definitely didn’t deserve this. I was expecting a dog when they told us they were fucking someone. If I would have known she looked like this, I would have given them a bit more time.”


“Why?” another asked, looking down at her. “That would just eat into our time with her?”


The new recruit looked up.


The member opposing him looked into his eyes, and as he spoke a grin started to form on his face. “Anyways, we’re going to need have some clear semen on the scene if we want to move her to the fun room for a kit test.” His eyes twinkled at the new guy. “Did you want to do the honors?”


They all stood in a circle, their hands resting on the tops of their guns, as they watched the new recruit take your mom on the floor, doggystyle. His gear shook around his body like pots and pans, and his heavy pelvis made aggressive slaps against her butt cheeks, which rippled from impact after impact, putting them into a state of change as constant as the sea itself. The men egged him on with encouragement and playful teasing.


“Come on, fuck her like a nigger. Make it look like they did it.”


“These brothers’ took your k-card. But is she taking your v-card too? You fuck like a virgin, man.”


“Not in her ass. Cum on it. Let’s make it nice and messy so Joanne can’t give us lip this time.”


Her skin was so fresh and pure, unlike his girlfriend’s back home, who was 33 just like he was, with none of the shape and elegance of the woman he was taking a piece of now. They had to pull him back to keep him from cumming in her, and he stood over her, jerking off, sending volley after volley of semen, which flipped through the air, landing on her crack and cheeks. They were a target hard to miss.


“I’m glad we smoked these guys. They’re complete animals, just cumin’ on a young lady’s ass like this.” One of the onlookers said, and he shook his head mockingly.


Her ass jiggled in the back of the swat van, where she lay between them on a towel. When they got her back to the precinct, they rolled her in on a stretcher, ass up.


Your dad had been sitting in that very same precinct, ready to file a police report about his missing girlfriend, even though he was warned she wouldn’t be considered missing unless she was lost for a full day. He was wringing his hands on his lap in a wiry panic, unsure of what to do with himself. He wanted to stand up and scream, or at least to run in circles. Anything to kill the horror that ran through his form. How could he let her get out of his sight? Where could she have gone? This were the questions which ate at him now.


As everyone else in the lobby turned their heads toward the entrance, their faces contorting with a strange confusion, even his solipsism in this moment had been penetrated. He looked over to see what they were looking at, and when he saw it, his brows furrowed.


Her head was turned so that he could only see the back of it, but the body, the only one he had ever known, had to hers. He knew it did.


He stood up suddenly, and he began moving toward the cart, first slowly, but gaining speed with each step, until he was moving as quickly as the team. His heart dropped when he got closer and saw her ass covered in a white, sticky substance.


The rookie was nudged, and told to deal with it. He turned around, relaxed from his previous bout, and stopped your dad in place, informing him that the woman was a victim of a kidnapping, and didn’t need being followed right now.

Your dad said “I think that’s my girlfriend.”


The rookie stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, but then he gathered himself and said “has your girlfriend been missing?”


“Yes!” your dad said, and began to push passed.


The man stopped him with his palm against his chest. “Wait! Wait. How long has she been missing for?”


“She- uh- a few hours, I think. Since earlier this evening. Or… yesterday. Technically.” Your dad was looking passed the officer as he spoke, confused, in a daze.


“Then this isn’t your girl, sir.”


Your dad’s eyes lifted to meet the man’s.


“This woman had been kidnapped for a week. It couldn’t have been your fiancé if she were just missing today. If it’s only been a few hours, I don’t think you have much to worry about.”


Your dad stood there, dumbstruck, and he looked over the officer’s shoulder as your mom was carted around the corner, her ass disappearing.


“Most missing persons reports end up just being a misunderstanding,” he assured your dad.


Your dad couldn’t believe it wasn’t her. Though he couldn’t see the woman’s face, she had the exact same shape as the love of his life. But because your dad was cowardly, especially back then as a young man, he somehow convinced himself that what the man was saying was true, and he slowly slunked back to his seat, waiting his turn to file a report.


Joanne the rape-kit tester was disturbed when she saw your mom being carted in, knowing that she wasn’t the typical junkie who usually found herself being carted in here. And she knew what the guys were planning to do with this young unconscious woman. Even still, she left the room, leaving it to them to have their usual fun, only smacking her lips and sighing to show her disapproval as she left.


The men took wet wipes and cleaned up your mom’s ass. Next they removed their gear, getting as naked as she was. Their bodies were white and pale, contrasting with her bronze ass, thighs, and feet. One of the man got behind her, then put his cock in between her cheeks, letting it rest there, making it look like a hot dog, and he thrusted slowly while he pressed her cheeks together with his palms as he said: “who’s on mouth duty?”


“I’ll do the honors,” another said, jerking off as he approached.


“Good, good. We’ll go for 5 minute bouts than switch off. New guy! Watch our six.” He pointed toward the door. “If anyone tries to intrude, put a bullet in him.” He was lucky that every rookie who heard that managed to pick up that it was only a joke.


As the clerk at the desk argued with your dad about your mom probably just sleeping at a friend’s house, the city’s entire swat team fucked your mom in the airtight room down the hall, filling her holes, cornering the sweet beige of her flesh with the pale white of theirs, wetting their cocks in the sweet moisture of her mouth and pussy, and feeling the weight of her ass encircle and press against the circumference of their cocks as they pressed into her asshole. She was an amazing gift for them after a hard day of work. The kind they knew they deserved. And to fuck the apex of female beauty, as your mom was, after just committing the apex of male activity: killing, just felt so fitting. Both killing a man and your mom’s ass provided a thrill beyond all others. And in times past, successful killing was often followed by sex with captured women. As far as they saw it, and felt it in their primordial bones, what they were doing was only in keeping with that honored pastime.


A career criminal, one who had been arrested for minor crimes over and over again, his life being nothing but unsuccessful crime and the arrest that followed, was being shuffled down the hallway in handcuffs, and he happened to turn and look into the room through its window, having discovered by accident (the way he had done with all this precinct’s peculiarities) that they sometimes had naked women in there, usually so that woman could check them. But he knew something strange often happened in there sometimes. Something that the precinct wasn’t exactly interested in telegraphing. He had never witnessed said strange thing, but he could see all the patterns surrounding it which heavily suggested its existence.


This was his first time seeing it first-hand.


“Oh,” he said, stopping mid-stride and rotating his entire body toward the window in a instant. They’re going to town on her in there!” he exclaimed, excited by what he was seeing.


Your dad stopped arguing with the clerk and looked over. “What did he say?”


“Sir.”


“Baby?” Your dad began to run. Before an officer could grab him and throw him out, he pushed passed the criminal and his escort and got to the window. In a flash he saw your mom, double-stuffed from behind, with her mouth being penetrated by the biggest cock he had ever seen.

The new guy inside looked away from the action and was startled by your father standing there, looking inside. He, being the first to not get the joke, scrambled for his gun holster, but before he could pull his gun he saw a large object pass the window and your dad disappear from sight. An officer out in the hallway had tackled your dad to the floor.


He was dragged to a holding cell and thrown inside with other minor criminals for causing a disturbance.


He screamed for a bit at the bars, pushing his arm between them, as if by doing so he could pull at the air to get himself out. Then he heard a deep voice behind him say “shut the fuck up!”


He turned around and saw a large black man staring at him. He did what he was told and shut up.


“Yeah,” said a man, sitting lengthwise on a bench, his pants down at his knees as he stroked his cock. “I’m trying to jerk off here.”


Your dad followed the man’s gaze to the female cell, where only three woman were. Two of them were a mother and daughter duo who had been caught drunk driving. They both lay on their stomachs, their pants pulled down to their ankles as the third woman, a butch lesbian with tattoos, took turns fingering each ass.


“Oh yeah,” the man on the bench said. “Now finger mommy’s ass again. Where’s daddy. Wonder what he'd do if he could see his two girls getting their big asses taken to task. Make those asses shake, Ellen.”


An officer came to the bar with a key. Your dad moved toward him, assuming, without reason, that the door was being unlocked for him. But then the officer spoke. “Rat?”


“Fuck off,” said the man jerking off.


The officer looked over. “If you like that, Rat, you’re going to love what we have in the white room.”


“Oh yeah,” the Rat said, not looking. “What is it? A pot of gold? A unicorn for me to ride?”


“No, really.”


“Uh,” he said, nodding sarcastically. Still not looking. “Just for that I’m going to nut right here.”


“It’s about Axel.”


The Rat stopped jerking off. He looked over. “Axel from the Hellions?”


“The one and only. We want any information you can give us on him.”


“Uh,” the Rat said, almost confused by the request. “You know I can’t give anything up on that man. It’s dangerous. I said so myself plenty of times.”


“I’m aware,” said the officer with a grin. “But something tells me that when you see what we have waiting for you next door, you’re going to live up to that nickname.”


The Rat looked at the officer, then back at the two naked asses. The lesbian kneeled down and began eating the mom’s ass. He looked back at the officer. “Uggh, you better have something worth while waiting for me there. If not, I want to be back here in a sec’. Deal?”


Your dad stood aside as the Rat was let out. It wasn’t until the officer had shut the door and locked it that it occurred to your dad what the thing waiting in the white room, that which was supposed to the carrot on the stick motivating “The Rat” to snitch, actually was.


When he had finally figured it out, his body, as if pushed, shot toward the bars. He screamed bloody murder until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a large black face, for only a fraction of a second, followed by the flash of a large black fist and then darkness.


“Wow! You wasn’t kidding,” The Rat said as he was lead into the room.


One of the swat members was startled to see The Rat’s ugly face appear over the round hill of your mom’s ass, and the sudden shock caused him to begin nutting. He pulled his cock out of her pussy and began nutting on her ass in front of The Rat.


“I’m just in time for sloppy seconds,” he said.


“So how about it?” the officer behind him asked.


“I can do anything?” he asked, and pointed at her as the swat member got out from underneath her.


“Anything that won’t leave a mark,” said the officer. “She’s a civilian.”


“Nobody’s perfect,” said the Rat.


The swat team sat on the floor, everyone naked except the rookie, one next to the other, watching as The Rat subjected your mom’s body to all sorts of indignities. There had been a bet going around in the office that The Rat was a virgin, but based on the way he was fucking now, he seemed to know his way around the female body rather proficiently. He used your mom’s body like a pro, not letting the opportunity which had fallen into his lap go to waste. His nickname didn’t come from the fact that he was always snitching, though that’s what people assumed about him after his propensity for snitching became more prominent. No, the reason why they called him The Rat was because he never gave up the opportunity to snatch the cheese.


When he asked for a gun, one of the team members jerking off said “what!?” with a hint of disgust in how ridiculous the request was.


“It doesn’t have to be loaded,” said The Rat, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He was still pumping into your mom’s ass as he said it.


One of the squad reached for their discarded gun belt, pulled out their baretta, removed the clip and cocked back the slide to make sure the chamber was empty, sending a single bullet to eject and roll along the floor. Then he handed the gun by its barrel to The Rat.


The Rat took it with a greasy smile. He then began to insert the barrel of the gun into your mom’s various holes, pushing it in and out as if the gun itself were making love to her. When he was finished with that, he got onto her back and stuck his cock into her pussy, then he maneuvered the gun barrel around her head and into her mouth as he fucked her doggystyle.


He looked over at the officers. “Reminds me of old times,” he said with a knowing smile. “Allegedly...”


“Oh yeah,” one of the squad said. “What was her name?”


“Nice try, pig,” he said while thrusting into the soft flesh of your mom’s ass. They watched its weight move outward as it was pressed flat by his pelvis, like a marshmallow flattened within the crackers of a smore. “Her ass wasn’t as good as this though, whoever she was.”


They watched as his ass tensed up and he finished within your mom’s body. Then when he was done, he pulled the gun out of her mouth and pressed it into the back of her head. The smile on his face was maniacal. Then he pulled the trigger. It clicked. He pulled it again. It clicked. And then again, one more time.

“Yeah,” he said, longingly. “Just like old times.”


As the old member of the squad, all fucked out, took The Rat to the interrogation room for his information on Axel from The Hellions, the other members, being worked up by The Rat’s performance, decided to take a shot at seconds. But within a few moments of them getting their cocks inside your mom, the door to the white room burst open.


The one who she sat on top of, got startled, and again, he pulled out his cock and nutted on her ass.


A woman in her late-thirties, blonde and pretty stood there, watching the cum gush onto the twenty-something civilian’s fat ass. She crossed her arms.


“Ughh,” she said. “It’s like working at the circus.”


“McMillan,” one of the squad said, as he stepped away from your mom’s face, feeling the cool air nip at his cock, previously wet with the saliva of your mom’s inner-cheek. “What brings you to this neck of the precinct?” He was being coy.


“Well,” she started, her eyes widening for a second in annoyance. “Just heard – from my little bird –“ she fake laughed to herself. “- that the helmet heads, the ones representing the very same precinct I work at, have taken themselves another girl for a deep investigation. And this time, as if to outdo yourselves, this one’s a total civvy, through and through, with not even a single parking ticket to her name.”


“She was hanging out with drug dealers,” the new guy blurted out.


“Kidnapped,” said the woman. “She was kidnapped by drug dealers. Kidnapped and drugged. You know, I was told my Hardy that this precinct would have its share of peculiarities. I thought I could take them. When I found out what they were, I objected, but facing a brick wall, I decided to pick my battles. If it’s just another junkie, at least I could know it wasn’t just me letting them down. But now I see this kid, probably sweet as a button, and I’m expected to be silent as your ogre bodies press into her from all sides while on the clock. That’s taxpayer money you’re using to fuck the public twice. And then on top of this, I find out that The Rat, the biggest piece of shit in this piece of shit city, got his little cut too.”


“The Hellions are going down thanks to the info we got from him from this,” said one of the guys. He slapped your mom’s ass unthinkingly when he said ‘this.’


“And you think that his testimony is going to hold? I’m the D.A., I’m telling you right now The Rat’s word is as good as useless. He knew that when you brought him in here. You got played.”


Nobody said anything. They all seemed as shrivelled in the spirit as they were in their cocks.


“Men!” she said, and shook her head. “you’re supposed to be protecting the public. Not helping the criminals rape them.”


“Oh, come on, McMillan. Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”


“Dramatic!” she shouted. “I got into this line of work because I thought I’d be putting rapists behind bars. Not working with them. Besides, don’t you think as a woman, I have some sort of vested interest in making it hard for men to get away with rape? After all, I was young and beautiful once. I could have been drugged and taken into a crackhouse. I could have ended up here with The Rat breathing down my neck as he fucked me.”


“But McMillan,” one of the men insisted. “you’re still beautiful.”


“Ughh,” she said. “This is what I’m talking about.”


The men became small.


She went over to your mom. “Now will a few of you men help me get her out of here? I’ll take her home and I’ll tell her in the morning that I found her in the street. That way you can cover your tracks.”


“Thanks McMillan,” one of the men said shamefully.


Another went up to your mom and began to pick her up.


McMillan looked up at him with fury. “And can we please get something to cover this young lady up before we wheel her out there in front of half the criminals in this city?”


Your dad lay, half conscious on the cell floor as your mom was carted out and into the backseat of McMillan’s car through the front entrance. By the time he had come to, and was released from his cell, he took a look into the white room as he passed it, expecting to see his worst fear, and instead saw a much larger, less attractive woman laying naked there on the gurney, her ass being probed with a q-tip by a woman. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had been imaging things. Luckily, it was somebody else’s loved one who had been violated. Not his.


McMillan looked at your mom laying there through her rear-view mirror at the stoplights. When she heard the car behind her honk, she looked back ahead to see a green light. She stepped on the gas. She took your mom into her house and laid her on the couch, before going to her kitchen, putting leftovers in the microwave. She watched your mom from the doorway of the kitchen until the microwave dinged. Then she went back and ate some of it at the kitchen table before pushing what was left off and coming back out.


She sat next to your mom on the couch. “Poor little girl,” she said to the back of your mom’s head. “Barely started life and already its biggest target.”


She sighed and looked at the television, where the news portrayed some tragedy or other, silently.


“She looked down at your mom. If only I knew who you were. But you weren’t exactly carrying a wallet on you when they picked you up.”


She then grinned to herself.


“Or were you?”


She grabbed the cloth resting over your mom, tugging it aside, and exposing to her again your mom’s fat ass.


“Is it in here?” she asked as she tugged your mom’s butt cheeks aside. “Hmm,” she said, and she began massaging your mom’s butthole with her thumb. “Or maybe in here.” She reached around and penetrated your mom’s vagina with her fingers, feeling around vigorously. “Mmm,” she said. “Nope. Not even a birth certificate. But maybe I can tell who you are through taste.”


She leaned her head down and with great passion, as if trying to satiate a deep-seated hunger, she began making love to your mom’s ass with her tongue and lips.


“Even in my prime I never looked this good,” she said, and began tonguing deep into your mom’s asshole, making a “ahlahlahlahl” noise as she did. She spit on it then kissed your mom’s butt cheek. “I can’t believe they let The Rat get to you, my sweet little piece of love. The boys were bad enough, but The Rat is just too much. You deserve better.”


She got her hands on the couch and pulled herself up the length of your mom’s back sensually, and then looked down at her sleeping face. She brushed the hair out of your mom’s eye. She said “I’m your fairy godmother now, sweety. Except I’m not trying to find you your Prince Charming. I think you’ve had enough of those for one night. A Queen Charming on the other hand…” She began to kiss your mom passionately on her lips. “Ughh,” she said, pulling back her head. “Even your breath smells like dick now. No matter where you go, you just can’t get far enough away from the corrupting influence of men. Isn’t that so true?”


Your mom just laid there silently.


“Exactly!” McMillan said in response to her silence. She began to reach under the couch, shouting upward as she did, as if making sure your mom could hear her with her head hanging down. “Hey, have you ever seen Requiem for a Dream? It’s one of my favorites.” Her head came back up. “It’s a movie that reminds me why I am disgusted by men, and it reminds me exactly why I love women as much as I do. It’s our bodies, you know? That’s why they act the way they do. Why they objectify us. And that’s also why I love us so much. Us women are perfect in a way they can’t be. And that’s why they take it out on us. They’re like animals. And this movie, Requiem for a Dream, has the best example of it I’ve seen. It’s one of the hottest if we could just remove the men from the scene and leave only the women, doing what the men made them do, but doing it without the men there to enjoy it. That’s the best revenge. Do what they want us to do, but do it where and when they can’t ever see it.”


McMillan smiled, and then she held up her fist, and wrapped within her fingers was a giant black dildo, double-ended and floppy.


“Let’s do for us what they wish we’d do for them.” And then in a forced soprano, imitating the enemy gender, she belted out “Ass to ass!


As she went ass to ass with your mom, feeling the double-headed dildo penetrating deep within her, and pushing, feeling your mom’s ass spank softly against hers, enjoying just how deep the dildo must have been penetrating her as well, she suddenly saw a flickering shadow move across the wall.


She didn’t think much of it until she saw it again. Then she spun around. The motion was so quick, and the dildo so deep into their mutual asses, giving leverage as McMillan twisted around, that your mom fell off the couch and onto the floor.


“Who’s there,” McMillan cried into the empty house. She looked around frantically. “I have a weapon!” she yelled. And she lifted the wet dildo in front of her.


After a few moments of looking around. She began to calm down. And when she did, she began to feel foolish. “I’m beginning to see things in my old age,” she said. She looked down at your mom. “Just you wait until that happens to y-“


She felt the full weight of a man, her worst nightmare, come crashing into her, sending her careening off the couch. As she readjusted herself, she looked up to see him there. He looked at her with a devilish smile. He was wearing no pants. His cock had been jerked off in the shadows into a rock-hard perfection. “Hiya,” he said in a way that was almost disarming. Then he lunged for her.


“No!” McMillan screamed as she scrambled to get away. She felt his hands reaching over her body.


“Take her!” she screamed, referring to your mom. “Take her!”


“Why take her,” he said, grunting it out in the struggle. “When I currently have hold of a live one?”


“Her ass!” McMillan screamed. “Her ass! Look at it! Take it! Take her ass! Just-“


“And,” he said, positioning himself just over McMillan’s squirming hole. “Look at your screaming face,” he responded, as if to imply that her screaming face was preferable to your mom’s ass. He plunged himself inside.


She screamed gutturally, in both shame and terror.


“Oochie walla mami,” said the rapist in a mockingly cartoonish voice. “Your ass ain’t so bad yourself miss. Plus you got spice.”


She squirmed underneath him violently, but she couldn’t compete with his man-like strength.


“Sleeping women with an ass are a dime a dozen. I’m just recovering from my last one. It was in Costa Rica. Her two sons watched it and jerked off. Boy, if you think you can’t stand men now, you should have seen the three of us. It wasn’t all fun and games though. I would have threw her off the balcony if they had let me. Party poopers.”


She had just barely caught the part of throwing a woman over a balcony over the sound of her own screaming, but it had caused her to scream louder.


“That’s it, baby!” he said. “Scream for me!”


His advantage in strength over her was such that not only did he manage to cum on her face, but he also found it easy to piss on it, and then fart on it too. Her slaps against his crotch and ass meant nothing to him in light of his need to soil her, which was as vital to him to pursue as the burgeoning art of a creative.


“Oh god! Why?” she wailed as his ass puckered and blew her hair back with its expulsions. “Why-y-y?”


“Why not,” he answered simply.


After he was, done, he began to drag her toward your mom. “Let’s make your death a happy one, shall we?” he said.


And he grabbed McMillan by the back of her head, and he plunged her face into your mom’s ass. As McMillan realized she was being smothered, she began to struggle violently, pushing herself up by your mom’s thighs, getting a fraction of a single breath, before the man’s arm forced her down into the ass. She tried to suck in air, only to realize that she was creating a vacuum which forced the flesh of your mom’s ass up into her nose. On top of the rough male hands, she felt his bare foot being pressed against the back of her head. The only thought she could muster was: is this really the way I’m supposed to die?


And just when she thought it was over, she pulled her head back, expecting pressure, only to find that the hands on her head were no longer pushing. She sucked back air violently, inhaling some of the spit on your mom’s ass with it. And when she felt like she could finally breath, she turned her head to look up. She saw his face up there, but he seemed to be looking off into the house, distracted by something.


And before she could wonder anymore, he spoke. “I forgot,” he said, weakly.


She was silent, looking up at him, wondering what was going through his mind.


“This house has a second floor.”


She gasped.


He dragged her by her hair as she screamed, across the living room, toward the stairway, dragging her forcefully up each step as she kicked and howled. Your mom lay there in the echoes of their struggle upstairs. The ceiling above her head creaked as they moved, attached to each other in the most horrible sense, on the second floor.


Your mom was motionless when McMillan screamed her last, and just outside the window where your mom lay, McMillan fell to the front lawn in a thud.


The man came skipping down the steps like a little girl moments later, singing to himself “Ohhh, I always fall for you ba-a-b-y-y.” He had grabbed a box from upstairs. “I fall into your la-a-a-p.”


He took the box over to your mom and then looked down at her with a smile. “Ever want to visit Istanbul, my love?”


Within minutes he had placed your mom within the box, with sheets and a pillow like he was packing up a puppy. “Shh,” he whispered down at her as he put blue velvet pills into her mouth, pushing them in deeper with his index finger. “Go to sleep my little dove.” Then he closed the box over top of her, poked airholes into its top, and wrapped it haphazardly shut with duct tape.


He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Post office is almost open,” he said.


He took your mom out to McMillan’s car, and as he drove out of the driveway, he took an awkward turn, making sure he drove on top of McMillan before leaving.


He drove down the street whistling to himself, your mom in the backseat, with the light from the early sunrise shining on the box that carried her.


“Cruising down the street in my six fo’,” he began to sing. “Gropin’ the bitches, druggin’ the hoes.”


He turned the corner.


“Sneak up on her to drug her juice. Dumb ass bitch knocks it over, deuce-deuce. Needed to fart, did it on her face. Send another bitch to Istanbul in a case. Fuck,” he said. “I should be writing this down.”


When he turned the next corner, he saw nothing but flashing cherries and berries. The cars were stationary, parked within police tape at an intersection, where a car was sitting with bullet-holes all through its various windows. The man assumed the cops were there for him. And in his panic, he turned the wheel on a dime, as if expecting to pull off an immediate u-turn. The car lost contact with the road, and tipped on its side, sliding across the pavement, sending a storm of sparks through the air as it drifted.


A young man stood on a lawn, his hands covered in large yellow gloves, watching with awe as the car slid passed him.


Mid-slide, the car finally doubled over onto its roof, slid a slight ways more, rotating horizontally as it did, and then stopped.


As the dust was settling, a man crawled out, completely pantless, and he ran into the backyard of the opposite house, leaping its fence, proclaiming “whipee” as he did so, and disappearing.


Laying on the road, a ways back from the car, but sitting in its path, was a busted and torn box.


Your grandpa’s employee, his face haggard from a waking night of terrifying stress, looked at the box with wonder. He had sat in the hotel room he had bought in vain, rocking back and forth on the edge of its bed all night. He wanted to call the cab company and tell them about what their employee had done to him, but he feared he’d only draw more attention to what he had tried to do that night. In a furious indecision, and in the throes of a crippling terror, he sat there in that hotel room, only getting up and checking out an hour earlier to go to your grandpa’s house to do lawn work like he promised he would, thinking that it was the best thing to do to help throw everyone off his scent if anything had happened to her wherever she was.


As he looked at the box, something about it, something above and beyond the obvious, grabbed his attention.


It was a foot. There was a foot, a bronzed foot, full and healthy, sticking out of the box. He looked over at the cops at the end of the street. The box was covered from their view by the upturned car, which they seemed to be looking at, as one of them called it into the walkie talkie on his shirt.


Your grandpa’s employee, ducking from their sight, opened-up the box and looked inside. He didn’t even have to see your mom’s face to know who he was looking at. Her ass was enough.


He took a sigh of unbelievable relief.


She was breathing.


Questions of fate and providence, as obvious as they would have been for anyone else at this point, were beyond his mental paygrade, and instead, he conjured up his energy to drag the box, using the car and the tree on the law for cover, up onto his boss’s lawn. When he had it close enough to the door of the house, he lifted your mom out of the box and took her inside.


The house was empty, both your grandparents having been staying overnight at a friend’s, promising that they’d be back before lunch.


He dropped your mom on the living room couch, first to check if she was alright before taking her to her room to tuck her in. He scanned over her naked body, noticing that there hadn’t been an outstanding mark or blemish on her. The only evidence that something was amiss was her nudity itself, and the obnoxious saliva-like wetness that coated her entire ass.


“Oh thank god!” he exclaimed, and his head fell down, pressing his forehead into her butt-cheek as the realization that he would be okay had set in.


All he had to do now was to put her in her room and tuck her into her bed as if nothing had ever happened. She could fill in her own blanks. Last night, its crimes and failures, could fade from history, his guilt fading with it, and everything, in spite of all his expectation, could go back to normal. Merciful normality.


He looked down at her ass.


“Heh,” he chuckled to himself, the way one does when their fear-based adrenaline starts to taper off from relief. “This thing causes much more trouble than what it’s worth. All of that stress because of these two globes of flesh. I don’t even want them anymore. My girlfriend’s flat ass is good enough for me.” He let his hand come down on her ass. It made a satisfying slap. He just looked down at it for a moment.


His face was blank. He was still.


“Oh, who am I kidding?” he said.






She was worth all the stress and more. The only letdown was that her pussy wasn’t as tight as he thought it would be. He had assumed that your father had a huge cock for years afterward because of it. After all, your mom was famously, and frustratingly, monogamous. Even with her loose pussy, sex with your mom was still a dream. It was so good, and the circumstances around how it had basically fallen into his lap twice in one twenty-four hour period, made it feel to him like it was a dream. He pinched the flesh of his thigh between her butt-cheeks by pressing them together to make sure he was actually awake.


It wasn’t a dream. She was actually there. And in that beautiful stupor, it hadn’t even occurred to him to question how sad it was that getting to fuck a woman with a perfect ass was something that was so rare that it felt like a dream even when one got a crumb from it, brushed off the table by the master Fate. It was a fact which would naturally imply that everyone that had happened to your mom’s ass over the night had been deserved.


The only thing that wasn’t deserved was all the victims it left in its wake. Men (and one woman) whose only crime was enjoying her too much. They were like ants, crushed by the mammoth weight of your mom’s naked ass as she sat down on the bench they prayed to it from. It was a cruel thing, a fat ass. It took no prisoners and even less friends. It only destroyed. And the only joy in it came with its eventual state as something conquered. But until then – and only if then – it was history’s greatest tyrant. Its cheeks made fat with guilt and solipsism. Each perfect ass itself a film noir femme fatale. Each one a demiurge, with one cheek representing all that was good, with the other bittering the palette with all that was good’s opposite. The crack in the middle being the heart of man. And the woman who carried it representing all those blind to this higher truth.


He felt his balls beginning to go tight on him, and not willing to pull out, he opted to feel what it felt like for your dad whenever he came inside her. It was an absolute bliss, his balls tightening with the weight of her lower half cradled within the spoon of his. And, proving his chivalry, he opted to look into your mom’s sleeping face, her eyelids clenched tight, as he felt that sweet release, rather than look at her ass like most men would. In another quantum reality, they would have been meant for each other. At least for a week or two, if not a night.


After he had finished inside her, feeling his softening cock fall from the warm shelter of her hole, he picked her up like his bride and carried her to her bed, tucking her in as she was, not having clothes to re-dress her with.


Before leaving her room, and leaving her to the rest of her life without him, he pulled her sheets aside, taking one last look at that ass which he had desired so much, and he leaned down and gave it a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve always loved you,” he said to the ass. “I always will. Goodbye.” Then he pulled her sheet over it. A teardrop fell onto the sheet. He left.


When your grandma and grandpa came home, they saw him still working hard on the lawn.


“It looks pretty good,” your grandma said, looking over at your grandpa.


“Surprisingly,” he said, with a hint of disgust. “I thought he’d bungle this too. He usually does.”


“Huh,” she said. “He must be in a good mood.”


Your grandpa’s employee kept his eyes down on the ground as your grandparents went inside. When the door closed, he looked up at it.


They had got everything settled. Your grandma decided that she needed another nap, and she went off to bed. Your grandpa, wondering why it was so quiet in the house, opened the door to your mom’s room. Seeing her lying there, he walked up to her bed to get a good look at her. He smiled down at her. “My everything,” he said lovingly. He turned around, and just as he was about to shut the door, he looked back. She was lying there completely motionless. Only her head and her feet exposed, the rest of her covered by sheets. He looked back out into the hallway. Then he looked back in. He shut the door.


He began walking toward her, feeling his heart start to beat fast. He poked her shoulder. She didn’t move. He then looked down at the sheets, specifically the sheets at her hip level. He grabbed the hem of the sheets. He slowly pulled them up and away.


“Oh god,” he muttered to himself.


Seeing the ass of his sister-in-law, the one he had desired more than anything else, even his wife, laying there in front of him, despite the form it took to come to him, made him almost collapse to his knees. Carelessly, he leaned in to kiss it. To him, it was no longer his daughter’s ass. It was the ass of his dream girl.


He pulled down his pants and began jacking off, feeling up the ass as he did. Looking at it with a passion. Occasionally looking up to see the back of his daughter’s head, thanking her silently for giving him this moment.


Realizing now that she was out cold, he mounted the bed, and putting her face under the sheet, he stuck his cock inside her, and then began to thrust into her prone boned. He had always said, whenever seeing his sister-in-law’s ass, that ass can make a man do anything.


That mantra had been proven right now. Because that ass had made him fuck his own daughter.


After he was finished, feeling heaven as he came, he lay on your mom’s back. Then he pulled aside the sheet to see her sleeping face. “Thank you, sweety,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. “You have no idea just what you’ve done for me.”


He cleaned her ass spick and span with your grandma’s wet wipes, then he pulled the sheets over your mom’s ass.


He walked over to the door with his pants and underwear in hand, and just as he was about to close it, he looked back into the room. He saw his daughter lying there peacefully in the afternoon light.


“Sweety,” he said, with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

He shut the door.

3,841 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page