Semi-Auto Eroticism

"I've got you on my no-fly list," Dianne slurred, her drink spilling on the floor as she pointed at the erect AR-15.

"You're no good. You're a bad boy." She trailed a finger down the handguard to the ejection port dust cover and then lingered on the shell deflector. She finished her drink and let the empty glass fall to the thick shag carpet of the hotel room.

"You always feel bigger than .223 when I have you inside me," she whispered then licked the ridged nubbin of the magazine release frantically. She ran a thumb over the front iron sight post and groaned.

"You're my weapon of choice. I want you to declare jihad on my pussy." Dianne grabbed up the assault-style military-type autodeath rifle and ran her dry face lips over the cold muzzle brake as she applied exquisite pressure to the rear takedown pin.

"Oh, you like that? You like it in the rear pin? You soldier boys are all the same." She rammed the buttstock buffer tube into her pubic mound and jerked the rifle in a rough up and down, the charging handle battering her pleasure raisin. She suckled the barrel gently and probed every accessory rail mounting hole with a moistened pinkie.

There was a soft knock on her hotel room door that broke her reverie.

"What?" she screamed.

"Ith thyme thoo vo-tib," Nancy said through the door.

"Goddamit! I was almost there!"

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!"

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.

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.

Grateful Grannies, Vol. 6

...on the third hard pull of the reel, the gas-powered multi-dildo sprang to life. Its noxious exhaust quickly filled the cramped room. Dianne watched with rapt attention as all seven jiggly jelly junk jammers gyrated spastically as the masked man gunned the engine. Volume three of the California penal code hung from a crude steel post pierced through his frenulum.

As he advanced on her, she exclaimed, "I been wet for seven days!" He mumbled something behind his mask, but it was drowned out as the machine began its work.