Uschi! (13 page)

That got Denny to grinning. And from there it was but a quick hop, skip and a jump before he was laughing out loud.

“Aw, what the hell,” he said. “I made a deal with myself whatever you wanted to do I’d go with it. Didn’t think it would be to the unemployment office. But whatever. Okay, you’ve got the reins, honey. Unbelievable. Why am I letting you do this? Why am I letting you manipulate me like this with so little resistance coming from me?”

“Because we’re in love—and you totally know I’m right.”

“I see.”

“Hey, you still don’t look a hundred percent convinced.” She peeled the rainbow suspenders off and her gravity defying water balloon breasts became fully bared. “Why don’t you suckle on one of my titties for a while? That should take a fair amount of the edge off. You got a preference for which tit?”

“Think I’ll go with the left one, thank you.”

Chapter Eight

S
he made Denny strip naked as a jaybird and on the living room floor lay out over an old
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
beach towel. He was face up and in good proximity to the television. A goodly sum of Denny’s anatomy never got touched by so much as a hint of sunlight, so most of his body’s complexion was as white as toothpaste.

The television was tuned to a far down the dial UHF channel showing
Zapped!
for its early afternoon movie. Scott Baio and Willie Ames at their ’80’s best. The delightful scene where Heather Thomas explodes out of her pink sweater had come and gone, so Denny had no trouble giving Uschi all his attention.

Equally as naked as her man, Uschi sat close beside him. Her mighty porn star valkayre bazongas hovered pendulously over Denny like two green moons of decayed flesh. A heavy platinum lock of hair was gone rogue from the rest of her hairstyle and was hanging down over one eye and giving her a Captain Harlok half-face. Just for shit and giggles she got into his Hasbro action figure collection and balanced a WWF Honky Tonk Man, complete with guitar in hand, square in the center of his forehead. Personally, Denny would have preferred Papa Shango. The voodoo witch doctor of professional wrestling was the cooler dude.

They were sharing a big joint rolled out of the copyright page from a Max Allan Collins paperback mystery and using an empty Dr Pepper can cut in two for an ashtray. A bag of nacho cheese Doritos was close by, and every once in a while she would feed him a few chips.

She put the joint to his mouth. He inhaled and was reluctant to relinquish the best kind of smoke there was from his lungs. How perfectly Cheech and Chong he was. The inside of Denny’s skull was feeling like a brand new bottle of aspirin sitting on a pharmacy shelf: brain packed in tight with plenty of soft, comfortable cotton balls for insulation. None of his problems were forgotten, but it all seemed farther off now; didn’t seem any longer to require as much need or worry over any of it. Right now, this moment in this universe, everything felt nice and okay. Lungs achieving the burn, he finally relented and exhaled.

He’d gotten quite good at this dope smoking business in a surprisingly short amount of time. There hadn’t been a coughing or gagging fit in some time now. The raw soreness in his throat had started to ease. It was all coming in and going out easy and fine.

Now was Uschi’s turn with the spliff. She smoked and worked at shaving his pubes off. A mellow Denny watched through half-lidded eyes as his homemade zombie girlfriend sprayed room temperature cool shaving cream on her hand and thoroughly rubbed it in around and on his genitals. Then she went to town on him with a Bic disposable razor. Slowly, gently, carefully and expertly Uschi performed her task. The erection he sported made it easier for her to maneuver around the penis. Every few strokes she would pause to rinse the razor off in the Tupperware bowl full of warm water she kept in close reach.

Denny had never been shaved by anyone but himself before. Never had anyone in his life handled him with such a loving and sensual touch.

“You haven’t ever seen the ocean, have you, best thing?”

Along with the question he asked her, Denny could distinctly hear the small but unmistakable scrapping-scratchy sounds of the Bic razor cutting down the hairs on his balls. She removed the joint from her lips and offered him another hit. He accepted the hit, and then answered her while a hazy fog of marijuana smoke was drifting between the two of them. “Aw, I’d love to see me the ocean.” The Honky Tonk Man balanced on his brow maybe wavered for a moment the slightest bit as his lips were in action, but besides that was in no danger of falling over. “That’d be Malcolm McDowell in
A Clockwork Orange
special. It don’t matter to me if it’s the Pacific or the Atlantic, I just want to see with my own eyes the actual ocean. I’ve never been out of the Dallas and Fort Worth Metroplex my whole life. I’ve visited a lake and a few creeks, but that’s all chickenshit. Before I die I want to at least once stand on a beach somewhere barefoot and let the wet sand go between my toes and listen to the surf slap the shore. I want to know what a sea breeze smells like. I can’t swim for shit, but I think I could manage flopping around in a few waves.”

“I’m gonna make sure, best thing, you get to spend as much time on the beach as you desire. Soon as we are done with a few endeavors I’m sure are going to do you and your attitude of self-worth a world of positive, we’ll get on that.”

“And I want to get a tattoo. I’ve long held a secret wish to get inky.”

“Okay. What kind of tattoo?”

“Maybe get Vampira over my heart and a saluting Bub from
Day of the Dead
on my arm.”

“Baby, you can have all that and more. I promise you.”

The shaving was completed. She helped herself to a washrag left soaking in the bowl of water and cleaned him off. Next Uschi lowered her face to Denny’s crotch and rubbed her cheek against the area of now bare skin directly above his penis. Contact such as this made his already hard dick throb and purple and ache for action. It stood straight like a fence post and bumped against her chin now and then. “Mmmm,” she purred. “There we go. Smooth as a baby’s ass.”

She rose up and stared him in the face. She ran her hand over his chin and lower lip. The way she was touching him was tender, sweet, enjoyed. “Have you ever thought about growing a beard? Maybe a nice goatee?”

“That’s one of them little beards that joins up with the mustache to circle the mouth, right?”

“Correctamundo.”

Denny had to laugh. “I did that I’d probably with my luck end up looking like a goddamn Klingon—classic original series style, not the post
Motion Picture
and
Next Generation
brow ridges breed.”

“Buttfucked in Lubbock,” Uschi trilled. “That’s a groovy thought. You would make a bitching Klingon.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so. You’d be G’Leeth, son of Kang, of the house of Kurn. I can picture you as the proud and fierce captain of the Empire’s most honored and feared Bird of Prey. Your name would be bandied about with envious admiration in the halls of the Klingon High Council and a curse on the lips of Starfleet admirals at Federation war rooms.”

“Uh, you’re kind of loosing me on this. Besides, I’m more a
Star Wars
man myself. Might be I’d look more like that dorky John Candy fat X-wing fighter pilot that gets blown to shit on the attack on the Death Star?”

“Jek Porkins,” stated Uschi.

“Excuse me?”

“The character you’re talking about, his name is Jek Porkins. Also known as Red Six.”

“Do tell? Lucas actually took the time and effort to give that guy a name?”

“Well, more likely Kenner toys gave the character his name and George Lucas allowed it.”

That was scary detailed knowledge of
Star Wars
lore. Awesome! If she should start spouting arcane information on the films of Sam Fuller, then he might just have to break down and ask her to marry him.

“It wouldn’t matter who you look like,” Uschi said. “You’d still be the prettiest thing going.”

His hearing her say that last part harmed his high. He winced and the upset Honky Tonk Man fell backwards and tumbled off his head and settled on the carpet. “Don’t,” he told her. “Don’t make up stories. Okay? I know what I look like.”

“I don’t follow, best thing.”

“Honey, we both know I’m far shy of being an attractive man.”

“I beg to differ.”

“It’s true, darling. I know my place in the world. I’m ugly. People have never found me attractive and they never will. It’s not always the easiest thing for me to accept, but I try and make do. I mean, sure, I would love for folks to get an eyeful of me and think me good looking. Absolutely. Be desired by others for just one day in my life would be great. I can remember when I was still living with my parents and we’d be watching a movie and Mom would see some Hollywood pretty boy with the perfect teeth and nice physique and absence of any belly and I’d have to hear her talk on and on about how much of a cutie he was. She’d often times look over at me and ask things like, ‘Don’t you wish you could be a cutie like that?’ And she would be sure to point out her and Daddy was attractive and popular when they were my age. What went wrong with me? What did they do to deserve a fuck up for a son? The girls who come into Blockbuster are the same way. They all love the cuties and point and snicker at me when they think I’m not looking and write me off as this useless and ugly loser. I know that they do. I don’t want you lying to me to try and make me feel better about myself.”

“You are the handsomest man to me, best thing. No bullshit. I swear it.”

Denny supposed he should believe her. Believe Uschi because that was probably what Satan programmed her to believe. Made her love him, didn’t he? Why not as well make Uschi look upon him as something at the least passably beautiful. He supposed he could live with that.

He smiled up at her. Her decomposition feminine musk was drifting down to him and reminding him it was good to be a healthy heterosexual zombie-fucking male past the legal age of consent.

Anxious for a new way to please her man, Uschi repositioned herself between Denny’s thighs, her hands sensitively pushing his legs apart like a scissor’s blades separating.

This is about to get very interesting,
deduced Denny. Curious to keep up with her movements, he raised his head off the floor and stared past his erection.

She was by this time on all fours, green from rot ass elevated high and shoulders and head brought down low and hefty tits resting on the floor. Her face was directly above his groin region. Filmy white dead eyes meeting with his own ping pong balls Steve Buscemi eyeballs, Uschi opened her mouth very wide and her tongue, slimed in dripping saliva, slipped out.

She brushed her tongue tip over his scrotum. The tongue went over the left testicle, lapping at it like an affectionate dog licking its master’s face. This lasted but a fleeting single second.

“Whoa!” commented a surprised Denny. Did she really just do that? That was certainly the last thing he anticipated being acted upon him today when he climbed out of bed this morning.

It was only the beginning, a small tease before the main event was under way. His undead buttercup now held no reservations on going full tilt boogie with tongue stroking on Denny’s nutsack. Her dogged dedication to the procedure was detailed and admirable. She quickly made things saturated and sopping.

Then she put his balls in her mouth and sucked on them. The pressure she prescribed to this sucking the perfect amount, neither too hard nor too soft. It was flawless. What teeth action there was was nice and appreciated, never biting down too rough and only these occasional little love nips. She moaned and groaned around her mouthful and had eye contact with Denny and watched him watch her suck his testicles.

When reasoning she had her best thing’s sex motor revved up super hot and horny, Uschi used the fat middle portion of her tongue to push him out of her mouth. The fresh air on his spit-slimed scrotum made things feel a shade chilly. The lipstick ring left circling his sack tacky and blood red.

Her adventurous tongue explored his cock, slithering up the shaft and tickling the tip. She accepted the dork into her mouth and began to pump him. Denny very soon was informing the top of her going up and down head he didn’t think he could hold back for any longer, and she answered by raising a hand and giving him the thumbs up.
It’s okay, best thing,
she was telling him,
fire the torpedo.

He released into her.

She sat up straight and with lips peeled back showed him what she had caught in her mouth. The sperm, gooey and thick as warmed jelly, seeped between her teeth and dribbled past her lower lip. It paused for a brief moment to dangle on her chin before falling to the top of her left breast, where it pooled like birdshit dropped from a fair height.

Denny shuddered in the afterglow of his commendable orgasm. Metaluna mutant menstruating, that was one of the best one’s yet. Smoking pot had him baked as fine as frog hairs. Truly he was feeling so way out he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

Uschi placed an arm under her titties, lifted and smooshed them firmly together. She used her free hand to absently start playing finger painting with the cum collected on her breast. She displayed talent with the spunk, managing to draw a small Valentine’s day heart and had just enough remaining to write below it U + D 4 EVER.

“Can I ask you a bit of a favor, best thing?”

“Sure.” His bloodshot eyes were unfocused. “Sure.”

“It’s just a little something I’d really be thrilled to do.”

“Ask away.”

And now she laid herself down on top of him and molded her figure against his. She could feel the vibrations from his beating heart pass from his body and into hers. Her added weight pressing down on his chest compromised his breathing some, made him pant from the mouth and wheeze a little. She put her mouth next to his ear. Her breath was like a splash of bleach tossed onto the floor of an autopsy room. In a soft, wet whisper she asked, “Ooo, pretty please with sugar on top, best thing, will you take me dancing tonight?”