Slut

Elle admired her full, youthful face in the cracked mirror that was adorned with scarlet lipstick kisses. She ran a manicured hand through long, impossibly thick hair that was the glossy black of raven feathers, her slanted Asian eyes large, blue, and framed by dusky lashes dressed in violet mascara. Between her ample breasts hung the emerald dragonfly pendant her boyfriend, Paul Regan, had given to her on their third date.1

Now, happily engaged, they had moved into a tiny apartment with a ceiling that leaked all day, spiders that scuttled all over the green shag carpet and a kitchen that provided the bare essentials: sink, stove, oven, and cupboards stuffed full of crackers, white tea, canned meat and chocolate-covered pretzels: Elle’s weakness. Keeping up with rent was tough, for Paul had to work 2 jobs plus graveyard shift in order to pay for Elle’s sophisticated taste in shoes, all of which she kept hidden under the bed like sex toys. 2

The thigh-high black boots were her favourite. She loved how the black leather creaked with each delicious sway of her lovely hips, the way Paul’s eyes bulged like Bugs Bunny’s whenever she did a little strip tease for him or sprayed whipped cream all over the luscious buffet of her breasts. Elle was often nude, even when they had friends over, for she never understood why people should be ashamed of what God gave them. 3

Countless men, all of them sculpted like marble statues, had buried their cocks inside her, had fucked her tight pink hole until it turned into jelly and swallowed every inch of throbbing meat; never sated, never ashamed of its hunger. 4

“I need to feed the beast”, Elle giggled. She tickled the thick, swollen pink lips of her blonde-haired monster. 5

Paul rolled onto his stomach, tortured by Elle’s languid waltzing. He licked his lips like a cat that couldn’t wait to pounce on its hapless prey. 6

“C’mere and fuck me, baby”, he purred in his deep, throaty voice, oozing masculinity as he flexed his sleek abdominal muscles. Paul was tall, lanky, and almost angelic with his bright green eyes and sensual mouth that was always wet, kissable, and delicious to look at. 7

He gripped the lilac sheets with large, calloused brown hands and and sighed, his climax building as he rubbed his cock furiously against the damp, silken fabric. Paul’s sensitive head pulsed painfully with each urgent thrust, his balls swollen and engorged along with his huge dark cock. 8

“I fucking hate you, Elle. Am I not good enough? I hope you get cervical cancer and die so I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore. Who’d you fuck last night, hmm? Was it that slimeball lawyer Mr. Reed? The engineer with the scruffy face? Or was it Bruce: that cute little sophomore who used to mow our lawn? You better explain yourself, bitch, or I’ll take one of those fat nipples between my teeth and rip it clean off!”9

“Actually, I blew a random black guy when you were at work.” Elle stated matter-of-factly. She studied Paul’s surprised face, relishing his jealousy and excitement as she twirled a lock of raven hair around her dainty finger. 10

“He asked if I wanted to come over for a drink and I said sure, why not? He was sweeter than cherry pie so I sucked him off real good, kinda like those mr. Freezies I used to suck all the time to control my sugar cravings. I have a terrible sweet tooth. Too bad you couldn’t watch me, Paul. This bastard had 9 inches of greased black cock shoved down my throat and I was working him like a pro!” 11

Her blue eyes gleamed like a promiscuous schoolgirl’s; exciting him further.12

“Wanna deep throat me?” Paul asked, unmindful of a huge gray spider that scuttled under the bed. 13

He was hypnotized by Elle’s long, shapely legs that were so smooth and graceful, tan muscles flexing as she sleazily walked towards him. The vanilla scent of her skin mixed with the pungent musk of her moist sex was enough to make Paul get down on his knees and beg like a dog. He thrust his strong, slender hips lewdly in her direction. Unfurling his legs he prepared for the best blow job of his life. 14

Eyes closed, lips twisted into a feral grin of desire, he jolted when warm, butter-soft hands caressed his vulnerable thighs. The elegant hands slid lower, teasing the coarse black hairs that surrounded his aching organ. A feverishly hot set of lips enfolded the swollen head of his meat and Paul moaned from the torturous suction. 15

Elle traced the prominent, spidery veins that were spread out like treasure maps underneath his sensitive, gloriously thin flesh, licking and wrapping her experienced tongue around the base before working her way back up. His body quaked violently from the intense pleasure and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water: helpless, crying for release. 16

“Cum for me”, Elle whispered, her voice muffled from Paul’s obscene length, and with one last tug he exploded into her waiting mouth. 17

X18

Two hours later, it was pouring rain. The silvery droplets pounded against the dirty windows--hard enough to crack the glass--and made soft, gentle little pit-a-pat noises on the roof like mice feet. 19

Elle lifted her head from Paul’s hard, smooth chest, a jet-black tangle of hair braided over one narrow shoulder. She rose from the bed and stretched, yawning. 20

Paul followed Elle with his predatory eyes as she tiptoed down the hall, her round, heart-shaped buttocks bouncing with each step. The gold hoop earrings jingled pleasantly as she rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat. 21

“There’s nothing but stale crackers and canned shit!”22

Elle sighed; annoyed that they were out of chocolate-covered pretzels. 23

“What gives? Why do we have no food in this cockroach apartment?”24

“Because the spiders ate it all”, Paul replied, grimacing when, as if on cue, the same fat gray spider emerged from under the bed, its fangs poised like daggers as it rose up on bristly back legs. 25

“Little fucker...” 26

He picked up Elle’s “The Shining” hardcover and dropped it on the spider. It made a loud, satisfying CRUNCH; the sound gruesome. 27

“That’s what you get for gobbling up my fiancee’s pretzels!”28

“Um, Paul, who are you talking to?” 29

Elle stood in the doorway, stark naked and gorgeous. She had the black leather boots back on, her creamy, supple skin incandescent in the moonlight. The way her obsidian hair fell around those perfect shoulders reminded Paul of the Elvin warriors he used to read about in fantasy novels. 30

They locked eyes for a moment, ocean blue mesmerized by luminous green, mouths slightly agape yet unable to produce speech. Finally, after for what seemed like hours, Paul decided to break the ice:31

“Nick’s throwing a party on Friday, want to go? Dave will be there.”32

“Davey...?” 33

Elle’s lips curved into a broad, dazzling smile, showing off straight white teeth. 34

“Since when does that guy go to parties, let alone NICK’S parties?”35

“I don’t know, maybe he needs a break from church?” 36

Davey Holden was twenty-eight, a music director at the small community church Paul attended, and Elle’s best friend. He was like the big brother she never had; always there for her when Paul wasn’t around just to make his life miserable. Whenever they went to church Elle dressed up real nice. She’d push out her cleavage and flip her black hair just so, ruby lipstick applied with a knock-out pair of red spiked heels to match. 37

Paul knew that she adored Davey. Elle would suck his dick in a heartbeat and probably do more graphic and sexually morbid things with him then Paul in a million years. Just the thought of his little bimbo fucking Church Boy’s holy brains out made his cock spring to life. In truth, Paul loved seeing Elle act like a dimestore hooker once in a while: it turned him on. If she wasn’t drooling over Davey in church she would randomly show up at his house, uninvited, to watch movies or stay for dinner. One of the most annoying things that Elle liked to do lately was grab Paul’s arm, give it a little squeeze, and gush: “Can we adopt Davey? He’s SO cute!” 38

“Would you like to fuck someone at Nick’s party, slut?” Paul asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.39

“Oh yes”, Elle said. She glared at him expectantly. 40

“Ok, but I’m gonna change the rules this time: I want you to fuck Davey.”41

“What?” Her jaw nearly hit the floor. “But...but I can’t fuck Davey.”42

“Either that or you lose the game.”43

“Oh, so this is a GAME now?” She blurted; furious.44

“You love Davey! What’s the problem?”45

“It’s just...we’re such close friends and...Well...it’s just WEIRD.” Elle was turning pink with embarrassment. “How the hell do you expect Davey to have sex with me?”46

“Oh grow up! He’d cut off a limb just to KISS you”, Paul smirked. “It’s so obvious.”47

“Ok, fine, I’ll do it! I’ll fuck Davey Holden and tell everyone at his church that you’re the antichrist.”48

“Put on lots of red lipstick tomorrow”, Paul said. 49

“I bet he’s a better kisser than YOU”, she hissed, tiny hands curled into tiny pink fists, and flipped Paul the bird as he laughed. 50

X51

A slut—that’s all she was; that’s all she was GOOD at. Elle had spent her high school years humping every player on the football team, humping her teachers, humping her friends’ boyfriends, humping complete strangers, and even humping other women. She liked to dress up and sashay down the street in the most flamboyant outfits: princess pink ruffles with blue silk ribbons in her midnight hair. She pretended to be Cinderella when she was really the evil witch from Snow White; poisoned apple in hand. 52

Now, at twenty-two, she and Paul had agreed on experimenting with multiple sex partners with the expectation that they were disease-free, of course. After the wedding, however, everything would be different, and Elle dreaded the moment when she'd have to gaze into Paul's eyes like a starstruck teen and say "I do."