Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Dread Male Gaze

Joe Bob and Jim Bob grinned and giggled and nudged each other in the ribs as Michelle struggled from her white polyester dress. The three were alone in the convention hall. Streamers and balloons were everywhere. Tom Petty played softly in the distance. Joe Bob and Jim Bob moved closer to the edge of their folding chairs as Michelle finally shucked off her panties.

“I’ve had 27 kids,” Michelle said, framing her huge modesty of pubic hair with spreading hands. Joe Bob and Jim Bob nodded. Joe Bob licked his lips ponderously. “Ah bet you got yourself a right-nice pussy under all that.” Jim Bob let out a high and hysterical giggle, and said, “Bend over and turn around. Ah want to see your butthole. Ah like buttholes.” Joe Bob guffawed so convulsively his mesh hat fell off.

“Get undressed,” she said. Joe Bob and Jim Bob scrambled to comply. Greasy hands and filthy fingers fumbled at jeans and zippers, shirts and buttons, and tighty whitey underwear gone loose and yellow.
“I want you two to touch each other,” Michelle cooed, straining to narrow her eyes to a leer. Joe Bob sputtered, “I ain’t no fag, missus!”

“Of course, not. Of course not. Even if you were, I could cure you. But touch each other a little bit. A little bit never hurt anyone, right?” Jim Bob had been nodding and staring at Joe Bob’s jutting penis while Michelle cajoled. As Joe Bob ruminated, Jim Bob reached forward and tentatively cupped his balls. Joe Bob stared about wildly. Jim began to gently rub his thumb into the base of Joe Bob’s penis, where it met his scrotum. Joe Bob groaned; it sounded loud in the echoes of the empty hall.

“That’s how ah like to touch myself,” Jim Bob said, eager as a puppy for Michelle’s approval. Michelle ignored him, focused on Joe Bob’s erection. Absently, Joe Bob began to grope in Jim Bob’s crotch as he continued to groan. He began to tug insistently at Jim Bob’s penis once he found it. Jim Bob ejaculated on the fourth stroke.

Michelle snorted and grabbed at Joe Bob, “Come on, Jim Bob. Let’s fuck while you still can.”

“But, I’m Joe Bob, ma’am.”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?”

She backed herself to the stage and pulled him into herself. Joe Bob flung himself over and over again into her dark passage. Jim Bob stared at his semen cooling on the floor. He stalked toward Joe Bob with his thumb stiffened before him. It was in Joe Bob before either understood what was happening.

“Gawdammit, Jim Bob!” Joe Bob, bellowed. But he didn’t slow his assault on Michelle’s vagina.

“Oh, yes, Jim Bob!” Michelle exclaimed.

“Oh, Gawd, Jim Bob!” Joe Bob exclaimed.

“Ah like buttholes!” Jim Bob exclaimed.

“Oh,” Michelle screamed, “Oh, oh… Whichever Bob! Spill your filth in me!”


  1. I thank you for using your terrifying gift once more for good literature.

  2. Each post is considerably viler than the last.

  3. I concur, Warty. The answer to the question "is it a particularly grotesque and vivid nightmare or is it a wet dream?" is "Yes."

  4. O...oh...OH OH!!!!! SUGAR!!!!! You make coprophagia seem like your eating frosted flakes.

  5. If SugarFree's not writing a piece on Wu right now...