By the banks of her own lagoon...

"Nancy, I sincerely want to fuck the taste out of your mouth," Barack cooed as he finished sewing her labia minora together.

"Isn't that a line from a Prince song?" Kathleen asked. She was dancing on a raised platform, trying to get her pendulous breasts to swing in opposite directions.

"Shut up, bitch. You fucked up my exchange roll out. I read all about in the newspaper."

He leaned forward to whisper in Nancy's ear. "I've made you tight again, you lisping twat. Stitched you up like a wrinkled football. You like that, bitch?" He jerked on the dangling ends of the laces and Nancy groaned from inside the mouthless mask. Barry pinched the nose holes shut just long enough for her to began thrashing.

"I'm gonna fuck you two old white bitches just like Michelle fucks me," he screamed. He slapped his semi-erect penis. "Wake up, motherfucker. Wake up."

"Barry, I'm so wet for you, baby!" Kathleen yelled. She jammed two fingers into herself and then tasted them. "I'm so ready!"

"Get hard!" Barry screamed at his penis.

Hands shot up all over the press room, and Barry glared at them.

"I'm not taking any fucking questions!"

Transparency

"If thish even gets out, I'll have toh deny I knowsh you, dear Jonathan," Nancy whispered, the rot at the core of her being foaming out of her mouth in rancid waves.

"It's fine, Nancy. I don't care about me, you and the bill are all that matters," Jonathan murmured in the grey nightmare of her crotch. He went back to licking the scab that covered her clitoral hood. It tasted like mushrooms and peppermint.

"Wesh can make thesh CBO play ball, but I'm worried about the publish-ick," she said. She shuddered under the attention of his bullshit-coated tongue, the crispy folds of her withered labia rasping together like insect wings.

Jonathan screwed a finger into her slack anus and then another. "We make the whole thing completely opaque. No one will be able to figure out what what is even the damn bill." He paused to spit in her change purse. "The idiots in the flyover states won't know what hit them."

"Ah, Jonathan. Dosh it! Dosh it, now!" she slurred, covering the top of his head in ancient spittle.

He jerked his fingers from her ass, drew back to make a fist and then hit her in the crotch as hard as he could. She screamed and howled.

"Again!"

The wet, dull thuds of Nancy getting what she demanded echoed through the legislative chamber.

snapshots make a girl look cheap

 Diane eased the flash suppressor between the grey flesh of her labia and into her dusty vagina. She grimaced as she moved it back and forth, producing the grating scrape of dry friction. She pulled it out and tossed it away.

"The pistol grip," she demanded, the loose flesh of her arm bouncing with frustration. Nancy's pendulous breasts swayed like a drunk going to vomit as she rifled through the pile of gun parts from the presentation.

"Iz thish it?" she slurred, handing a part to Diane. It was a bayonet lug. "God-dammit!" Diane screamed, "Can't you fucking doing anything right?" Nancy's startled face made the perfect target; the lug caught her right above the eyebrow and it began bleeding. She blubbered for almost a mintue, blood and tears joining mascara and snot in a thick black river down her face.

"Are you finished?" Diane screamed finally and Nancy nodded miserably.

"That one," Diane pointed at a pistol grip by itself on the table. Nancy shuffled over and handed it to her. Diane ran her fingernail along the reticulated surface of the grip. "Perfect," she said. Nancy grinned idiotically, showing that blood and mascara had dyed her false teeth black.

Diane snapped her fingers again and waved at the table. "Get me a clip too. A high capacity clip just like the one that killed those kids." She gasped between words as she worked the grip between her legs.

"I thinsh they're called maguhshinzes," Nancy ventured.

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT THEY ARE CALLED!"

+5 Eggplant Of Anal Assualt

“I knosh shings about you, Newt,” Nancy slurred, as she jacked off the Japanese eggplant with a handful of rancid bacon grease. Newt was hugging Lady Justice, his hands tied together on the far side. He weakly struggled to get free and sobbed. He was nude and his pale buttocks and pallid thighs puckered in the cold rotunda.

Nancy leaned forward and rasped in his ear, “I’m nowsh Diana! Of the Hunt!” Newt screamed in pain, the agony of hearing your own shitty prose read back to you.

“Are are a Nazi sex kitten?!?” he yelped, uncontrollably. The script was locked in by Nancy’s words. There was no going back. He needed to pee very badly, but he knew that would only make Mother angry.

Nancy slipped the greased eggplant into Newt’s slack anus. It grated against his enlarged prostate, blown up to the size of a baseball. Newt moaned.

“Get s’hard for you Nashi sex kitten!” Nancy screamed. Newt could feel her wiry nipple hair grating across his hairless back. She reached around and squeezed his flaccid penis. “Get S’HARD!” she screamed again, her shrill voice ringing in his giant round head.

“I can’t,” Newt gasped, “Not even Callista, my sweet Apple of Discord, can make Hades rise from His work in Tartarus.”

“No allusions!” Nancy ordered, digging the eggplant deeper.

The River Of Forever Flows Into The Sunless Sea

John's hot tears spattered Nancy's whithered breasts. Her pangolin hide drank them greedily, starved of moisture as it was by the precious fluids of Nancy's carapace rushing to her dessicated fuck-parts. She wanted to be wet for John.

His leathery tail of a penis flopped out of his open pants. It bounced with every sob and blubber. John's eyes were raw from crying. His tears drippedon his purpling glans. Nancy slapped John's penis hard, grabbed it and jerked him off intently. He sobbed even harder, struggling to catch his breath after each strangled cry. "Nancy!" he moaned, "I want in your minority cunt!"

He mopped his face of tears and massaged them in to the dark slash between her legs. Her shriveled labia, black and dry as tangled raisins, plumped briefly with blood and bile. John came immediately after thrusting himself into the sandpaper walls of her vagina, a thin dribble of greenish semen pooling around Nancy's puckered cervix. She clung to him while he shuddered inside of her, drawing him in close, suckling his cheeks to drink his precious tears.

The Shit Facktory

“What do I have to do to convince you, Bart?” Nancy cupped her gelatinous breasts through the thick foundation garment under her pant suit. "Do you like what you see?" Bart’s eyes widened as Nancy flicked at the area her nipples should have been. Her drunken stroke-victim slur intensified. “Quish Prow Crow, Bart. I have thumbthing you want, you have thumbthing I want.”

“I’m not going to back down on the abortion language, Nancy. No Federal funding for abortions. Ever.” He gasped as Nancy stepped forward and grabbed his scrotum. She squeezed, just a few pounds of pressure below his pain threshold. “These chompersh come right out, Bhart.” Nancy sucked down the top plate of her expertly made dentures and used her tongue to dart them in and out of her mouth. “You ever have a gum job, Bart?” Nancy asked, clacking the dentures back in place. “Throat fuck me, shit in my mouth, I don’t care. Just vote my way.” Her fetid breath carried a whiff of corruption. Nancy was dying, but Bart’s wife hadn’t touched him in years.

“Turn around,” he said thickly. “I’m going to fuck you right in the shit facktory.”

Phtirius pubis

Harry scratched his balls through the binding crotch of his suit pants. They had been itching for days; he even tried showering for the first time in weeks to make it stop. Harry pulled his underwear away in order to reposition, but only ripped out four ball hairs bunched in the elastic instead. His phone rang. Nancy. Again.

"Stupid bitch," he muttered. His secretary looked around the corner of his open office door. "Not you," he said, "the other stupid bitch." With a frightened squeak she disappeared. Rahm had broken her in at Sarah Lawrence but she was slipping. Time for a new one that would be still be impressed with working for Harry, show him the proper deference. This one had already been knocked up four or five times. Chuck’s supply of under-the-table levonorgestrel wouldn’t hold out forever.

A phone rang again. His personal cell this time. Nancy again, her pinched asshole mouth and startled eyes on his caller ID. She had been naked when he took the image, twisting his thumb in her rectum. She was begging him to take another Viagra. Begging him to again writhe and wretch over her wrinkled skin and grotesque genitals. He had cropped the picture down to just her face to help him feel nauseous when he wanted a drink.

Harry scratched his balls with the phone until it stopped ringing.

Tik-Tok, Tik-Tok

Desert Passions

Nancy ran her veiny hands over the chocolate expanse of Art's chest. They rasped across his nipples. Art felt himself harden. Nancy grabbed his erection suddenly, the warm and sour smell of Ensure and vodka on her breath. Art was a bar of iron in her hand, still hot from the foundry forge.


She dug her fingernails between his scrotum and penis, seeking the spermatic cords. Art groaned and groped blindly for her pendulous breasts. Nancy began masturbating furiously with her other hand, the rings and studs her labia clanking dully.

A spotlight swept over them both as the helicopter landed in the distance.

UN ZE POPULAR GIRLZ!

Nancy shrugged out of her blouse and unfastened the high-tension wires supporting her bra. Her breasts fell out, bouncing against her stomach with two soft plops. She gathered them up, withered and wrinkled like day-old crepes, and pinched the nipples viciously to stimulate blood flow. They were cold in her menopausal hands as she offered them to Dianne.

"Do youh want thu protesh?" Nancy slurred provocatively. Her mouth, as always, was filled with saliva. "No," Dianne said, "I want to fuck on the Astro-Turf."

Nancy stepped out of her support underwear. From the bed, Dianne could see that Nancy had shaved her enormous thatch of gray pubic hair into a swastika. Dianne let out a moan of pleasure as she shat out the riding crop she had been masturbating with.

From the closet, frustrated by the obstructed view, Rachel ground the lock of Keith's hair into her vulva so hard that the cords in her gigantic neck stood out like bridge cables.

Deep within the bowels of the Rayburn building...

Nancy kicked a lever under the cold metal table Dick was strapped to. He felt the blood rush into his head as his feet pivoted into the air. Nancy straddled his face, her genital piercings cracking a tooth as she lost her balance. She began tracing his open heart surgery scars with her tongue, paying attentions to every one.

She bit down hard on the disc of the pacemaker she could feel under the skin of his chest. Dick gasped and coughed, fighting for air under the clanking rings and studs in her vulva.

She hadn't washed in days, like she promised. She worked her way down him, sliding her breasts toward his mouth. She began biting harder, drawing blood from his clavicle. She sucked briefly and then spat the blood onto his wobbly neck.

Nancy was squatting over him now, staring intently into his rheumy eyes. Quick as a striking snake, she bit gobbet of flesh from his right cheek, shaking like a rat terrier to free it. She stood and took it out of her mouth. She ringed her insensate nipples with blood and threw the ragged chunk of Dick away.

"Get on with it, you commie bitch!" Dick growled. Nancy stretched the plastic wrap over his mouth and nose, stood and began pissing on his face. She watched as he choked, writhing against the restraints. The sensation of drowning was perfect, encompassing. His penis got a little larger with every electronically-assisted heartbeat.

a steel fist of regulation covered by a velvet glove of emission trading

Henry nervously twirled his mustache as he watched the steel fist being unwrapped from it's velvet hood. The fist was plunged into a bucket of warm water to gently heat it. Nancy ran a coathanger down her cast to scratch her ruined leg. The bruises ran up into her bloomers. She farted and then let out a giggle tinged with hysteria.

The masked man raised the steel fist from the water by the sturdy three foot rod it was welded to. Henry chuffed as the fist was wiped dry and held up to gleam in the feeble sunlight trickling in though the boarded up window of his Rayburn office.

The phone rang in the hallway and an intern in ass-less chaps duck-walked to answer it. The bit in his mouth slurred the words, "Congethmah Wakmah's offith." A thin of line of spittle fell on the floor. The intern dropped the phone to wipe it up and then began to massage it into his scrotum.

Henry nodded to the masked figure. "Do it," he said, "Do it as many times as it takes me to learn." The steel fist smashed upwards into his crotch hard enough to lift him off his feet.

Nancy caught the fist on the laconic backswing and left a smeared kiss on the knuckle of the thumb.

For jester

Barney's cleft palate folds upwards as he wheezes and gulps Rahm's hot-sagging balls into his sinuses. Nancy plays the frantic chicken while Dianne tries to tie her enormous labia around a touch lamp. Flickering on and off and dim and bright as it shakes back and forth, the lamp shows in a slow strobe Rahm struggling to break free of Barney's gagging embrace. Rahm shits a frightened little turd on Barney's neck. Barney, startled and finally erect, kicks out at a squawking Nancy who is masturbating furiously with a loofah sponge attached to a cordless drill. Her leg shatters like a cheap epiphany.

The Lost Tapes of Sappho

"Oh, Nancy," Dianne exclaimed as she writhed on the blood-warm waterbed. It had been stripped of its sheets and the two of them where coated in a thin layer of GMO-free soybean oil. Nancy lifted the pudding-filled sweatsock of Dianne's breast from her armpit and lightly bit the coarse hairs surrounding the ragged aureole.

Dianne scrambled to find Nancy's dessicated labia, lapping oil from the bed to provide enough elasticity so that her clitoris wouldn't break off and crumble in her hand. Nancy slipped a lubed finger in Dianne's anus and began to massage her perineum in lazy circles with her thumb. "Oh, Nancy," Dianne exclaimed again, "Harder, like the doula when Katherine was born!"

In their ecstasy neither could see the red LED of the camera or hear its soft whir in the dim chamber.