The Princess of Power (Marina Diamandis)

[HER_ABHORRED_SHEARS]

The Princess of Power (Marina Diamandis)

“Never look a day past thirty…”

tags: marina diamandis, big breasts, oral, anal, titfuck, mm/F, ageplay, taboo, cheating

Summary: Haters to the left! Marina Diamandis won’t let the fact that she’s forty years young (!) stop her from partying with teenage boys (or fucking them). But… what if they don’t accept her? Will the generational gap prove too vast to close?

AN: Inspired by a track called “Cuntissimo” from MD’s new album—the whiplash of a woman born in the Thatcher ministry imitating zoomer slang (no, Marina, kids do not still say “YOLO”). Once teenage girls wore Mom’s makeup and nylons to seem older. Now the reverse happens—the old commit psychic vampirism on the young. Maybe Marina was attempting self-deprecation. It didn’t land for me. At a certain point, you have to accept that you’re old, not “with it” anymore, and your primary point of contact with kids is yelling at them to get off your lawn.



* * *

Whenever Marina gatecrashed an eighteen-year-old’s house party, the same conversation followed her around like a smell.

“Who’s that?”

“Marina Diamandis. A big star. Or someone who used to be.”

“Oh. I thought she was someone’s mom, here to pick up their kid.”

Wobbling on her heels, lit like a firecracker from the five Amaretto Sours she’d pregamed in the lounge, Marina Lambrini Diamandis—year of issue, 10 October 1985—tumbled drunkenly around the mansion, flirting and snogging with kids younger than her by two decades. She tried not to stand out. Tried, but didn’t particularly succeed.

“The ‘vibes’ in this crib are giving mad ‘skibidi toilet’ energy,” Marina hollered at a pair of confused high school kids. “It’s totally, um, ‘aesthetic’! Particularly the spotlights on the stairs! They’re, er…” She got out her phone and scrolled her notes like a foreign tourist consulting a phrasebook. “…Cursed? …Liminal? Did I get that right? I’d better ask Ethan…Anyway, see ya!”

She flounced away, and they shared a glance.

“Cop?”

“Absolutely a cop.”

Tonight, the forty-year-old woman was glammed up in a look that could only be described as toddler working a streetcorner. Eye-bleeding amounts of pink; slut dial cranked up to eleven. She wore satin matte foundation, radiant with carmine blush and scintillant with glitter. Her eyelashes were drawn on, apparently in the dark by a person with severe epilepsy—they swooped in crazy, distorted wings. One of her fake lashes was hanging askew, clinging to her eyelid by the hardest-working dab of paste in the business. A black heart had been Sharpie’d to her cheek; in the sweat-dripping heat it was already streaming down her face like a plague sore.

Marina’s voluptuous figure was packed into an overloaded sequin halter bralette and miniskirt, sweeping up eruptions of titflesh that nearly exposed her nipples when she walked. She flounced and breezed, ignoring the attention she was attracting—which mostly was not positive.

She landed on two more kids like a big-titted mosquito. “I’m in my ‘unwashing my swag’ arc!” She threw her arms around them and drew them into a hug. Breasts ballooned out of her halter top, squishing glitter onto their shoulders as they tried to escape. “Reinventing myself as a cool older chick! Someone who makes you think ‘damn, she’s giving final NPC vibes, fr!’ Ya know what I mean? Gotta go! Byyyeeee!”

“What’s going on?” Michelle was tall and blonde, with an ash-gray wolfcut that was now infested with Marina’s second-hand boob glitter. “Why’s she talking like…that?”

“Why’s she even at the party?” Her boyfriend Jay was also tall and blond. He frowned, watching Marina stuff an errant breast back into her top and knocking the other breast out in the process. The massive things were fleeing her halter top like rats on a sinking ship. “She’s drunk as hell, and like, forty. Can someone get rid of her?”

“Leave her alone,” a bloodless voice said at their backs. “She’s not hurting anyone.”

Michelle and Jay turned to roast the simp…and stopped. It was Ethan Mueller, owner of the mansion and party host. Unroastable.

Ethan looked like the elf at Santa’s workshop who’s going through a phase. Tiny and effete, he would have stood 5’2 if his back had been straight, and it never was. He had the slouch of a ferret and perhaps less muscle mass. He wore a child-sized tracksuit, with the tips of his fingers barely showing under the sleeves—black painted nails glittered like shards of hematite. His eyebrows had been shaved off, then redrawn in pencil with considerably more care than Marina’s. The eyes underneath were alert and intelligent.

He moved with an authority that belied his size. He dominated every room he was in. Eyes followed him; shoulders turned his way. He talked quietly but never had to repeat himself. Ethan Mueller was Napoleon Bonaparte in a Fuerza Regida tracksuit.

“To answer your question,” Ethan said. “She’s here because she’s a paying client.”

“What’s she paying you to do?” Jay rested against a banister railing alongside Ethan. They’d been friends for a long time. “Critical distinction: what does she think she’s paying you to do? Because I know this is one of your scams.”

“It’s not a scam.” With his tracksuit drawn up, Ethan’s face was a sketchbook of shadow. Only his mouth was in the light, and it twisted with amusement. And cruelty. “I’m making her young again.”

* * *

What will I be when I grow up? Every child asks this, before finding the answer inside them like a fire. Astronaut. Firefighter. Vet.

At age eight, Ethan Mueller had decided to become a scammer.

Adolescence has a way of strangling your little-kid dreams—you turn twelve and realize that astronauts need 20/20 vision and postgraduate STEM degrees, firefighters need physical fitness and a vague interest in helping their fellow man, and being a vet is less “pressing a stethoscope to Mr Floofles’ chest as he wags his tail” and more “shoving your hand up Mr Floofles’ ass while he has the drizzling shits.”

Ethan was eighteen, and his dream hadn’t died. It had grown wings and flown.

He’d achieved fame as a mixtape rapper, under the name M00LT1-TR4XXX. Supposedly, he was a disturbed homeless kid from the Lower East Side who suffered from dissociative identity disorder—and his bizarre freestyles were actually the creative outpourings of his “alters”, who took control of his body in front of the mic. He had become an overnight success. His single briefly topped the Spotify charts, and he was feted as an artist and producer to watch by Pitchfork. Brand deals were raining in—Nike, Vans, Four Lokos. A Coachella support slot was rumored to be in the pipeline. In the space of six weeks, he’d become extremely hot.

It was all fake. He didn’t have DID, he wasn’t homeless, his dad was rich, and his hit single was AI generated. His musical skills consisted of nodding his head in a recording booth and telling an engineer “my headmate wants more beige in the mix”. So far, he hadn’t gotten caught.

Ethan was already pivoting into the management side of the biz. A successful scammer moves like a shark, and he knew his rap career wouldn’t last. He’d already gotten himself “in the room” on a few record label A&R meetings—as the flavor of the week, he was frequently sought for consulting and branding advice—and he’d met Marina Lambrini Diamandis at one of them.

He didn’t care for her music but found her fascinating as a character. Brashly self-assured. Talented and certainly hard-working, but perhaps a little self-delusive. He was good at reading people from a glance across a boardroom table. Sometimes you had to, if you wanted to stay out of jail.

Marina had approached him seeking a creative rebrand. Her last few albums hadn’t exactly set the world on fire. But when Ethan tried to probe the huge-titted singer’s psyche, he intuited that her problems ran deeper than that. This woman was personally lost, as well as professionally adrift.

Sure enough, once he broke through Marina’s facade, she mentioned feeling old. Irrelevant.

“…Washed?” Ethan had offered.

She nodded. Glad to have the word. “Is that what kids say now? Yeah. Washed.”

“I can unwash you,” Ethan had let his voice emerge softly from the cthonic depths of his hoodie. “You wanna be ‘it’? I can make you ‘it’. But…”

And then he’d played out silence like fishing line. Her fingers had begun an anxious tap-tapping on the oak table, waiting for his next words, becoming increasingly desperate when they didn’t come. Outwardly, he’d been a statue. Inwardly, he’d been fist-pumping. He’d basically gotten her. Time to close the deal.

He’d sighed and rubbed his eyes exhaustedly, as if to indicate too much, too fast. “Nah. Forget it. Probably wouldn’t work…”

“What wouldn’t work?” Marina had leaned forward. She’d wanted in, without even knowing where in was. “What have you got planned? What do I have to do?”

Teeth like fangs had appeared in his smile Ethan could be a frightening-as-fuck eighteen-year-old. “You have to trust me.”

* * *



For two weeks, the singer had lived at Ethan’s mansion.

Marina soaked up his energy and mojo: learning to zig where he zigged and zag where he zagged. Re-learning how to be young. Like a fucked-up The Karate Kid remake where Pat Morita learns to become Ralph Macchio.

Tonight, his 40-year-old apprentice swanned around the party, drunk as hellfire and falling out of her bra. She dutifully used the supposed young-person slang Ethan had taught her. She waylaid yet another unfortunate group of kids, and started babbling about how she was “the female Rizzler”, or something—Jay didn’t have the courage to listen closely. Her Welsh accent was sticking out a mile now that she was shitfaced. Rez-ler.

Ethan and Jay chilled. Watching. Just watching. Ethan wore a smile, Jay a frown. He fundamentally didn’t get something about this—what was Ethan getting out of this arrangement? Money? The kid had more money than God.

“This is fucking goofy,” Jay said, as Marina tripped and fell. “Does she know how embarrassing she looks?”

“I’ve got a good thing going with her,” Ethan cracked open a Deep Eddy vodka. Hsss. “Here she comes now. Don’t mess things up for me, J-dog.”

Marina hobbled over to them. “Ethan! I think they’re starting to like me! Well, they’re laughing, so I guess they must like me…” She blinked in surprise, seeing Jay as though for the first time. “Oh, hi! Who’s this?”

Ethan laid a hand across Jay’s shoulder. “Marina, this is Jay Lochaber. My homie from when I was living rough on the Lower East Side, with a dead rat for a pillow. Sometimes, friends are all we’ve got.”

“Oh, you poor things!” Marina sobbed hysterically.

Jay rolled his eyes, remembering where he’d actually met Ethan Mueller—ECON-101 at a ten-grand-a-semester private school where half the kids wore Abercrombie to class. He hated being roped into wingman duty on his friend’s little schemes, particularly since the fame and money always seemed to flow one way. “So, you’re Ethan’s new client.”

“He’s teaching me everything!” She sighed. “He invites me to all the coolest parties. I feel eighteen again already! Age is just a number!”

“And jail is just a room.”

“You know, you’re hella fucking rude!” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s not illegal for me to hang out with people a bit younger than I am. It’s healthy, especially when you’re spiritually the same age, y’know? Why, just last week, Ethan and I started gapping!”

“Gapping?” Jay frowned. “What the fuck is gapping?”

Marina drew herself up in a superior sneer. “You don’t know what gapping is? Ha! I’m more of a kid than you are!”

“Nobody knows what gapping is, because it’s not a thing. Stop listening to Ethan. He’s tricking you.”

Ethan swiftly nudged an elbow into Jay’s ribs. Play along, the shadowed lips said.

Jay mouthed one word back—No—then flicked his gaze across to Marina. “Listen, most of what you’re saying is real slang, however bass-ackwards you might be using it. But I have never, ever heard anyone say ‘gapping’ before.”

“Maybe you need to get out more.” But Marina was frowning now. She gave Ethan some side-eye. She wasn’t doubting…but she was curious. The precursor to doubt.

“One moment please,” Ethan grabbed his friend by the shoulders, and dragged him into the shadows. Then he elbowed Jay in the ribs again. Harder.

“Dude! Don’t ruin this for me!”

“Stop taking advantage of people,” Jay hunkered down, aware of Marina’s gaze on their backs. “I don’t know what your game is or what this gapping shit is about. I do know she should not be hanging out with you.”

Ethan snapped his fingers—his favorite gesture, a Neuro-Linguistic Programming trick intended to end a conversation or pivot it in a new direction. Enough of that moment, the finger-snap said. We’re beginning a new one.

“I’m not lying or taking advantage of anyone, okay? She came to me. She wants to know how to use Gen Z slang. And who knows, maybe some people do say gapping. Please play along. Pretend gapping’s something. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Jay opened his mouth—just as a bundle of cash was shoved into his hand. It was still hot from Ethan’s tracksuit pocket. He glanced at the top bill, saw George Washington’s face. Was he the one who would not tell a lie? A fierce battle for Jay’s soul took place then. But because he had rent to pay, it was also a short one.

He shrugged, sighed, and turned back to face Marina.

“Look,” Jay said. “I owe you an apology. Now that you mention it, I did hear some kids at school talk about gapping. Ethan was just reminding me of that.”

Marina put her hands back on her hips and smiled. Her eyes had a fierce Sierra heat. “But you don’t know what it is.”

“Nope.”

“Oooh…” She clapped her hands. The gesture made her thick, meaty body wobble. “Let’s do it!”

Jay sighed. If this is a Tiktok dance or something… “Can’t you just, like, tell me?”

“Marina’s idea is excellent.” Ethan snatched a long wooden hook off the wall. He twirled it with a kitsch stage magician flourish, then reached up to the ceiling and unlatched an attic trapdoor that Jay hadn’t even noticed was there.

The trapdoor swung down from the ceiling on a hinge. It disgorged dust. Revealed darkness. Ethan tapped a button on the wall. A ladder slid out of the ceiling with a mechanical ratcheting sound, jolting to a stop at hand-height.

“Let’s ditch the party. Go up into the attic.” Ethan’s smile never reached higher than his lips. One half of his face was lit by party lights, like a waning moon, but Jay thought he saw it wink. His hood made him look like the high priest at some shadowy rite.

A cool air from above stirred Jay’s hair. He suddenly felt uneasy.

Marina giggled as she shucked her pumps—one of the heels had snapped off—and began climbing the ladder barefooted. Not knowing or not caring about the view both boys were getting. Ethan tracked her fat ass, which was spilling in twin chubby masses out of hot pink panties beneath her skirt. Then he climbed up the ladder after her.

Darkness ate them both.

It was Jay’s turn.

He swallowed—his throat clicked. He had acrophobia, and ladders were not his friend. He climbed. Hand upon hand, foot upon foot, marveling how ten feet felt like a hundred. Moving quickly and then slow, because he had to shut his eyes halfway. Even through his eyelids, he saw the square of darkness expand over him, like a mouth opening wide. Coldness drenched him from the downdraft—cold and heavy air, like a dry but freezing rain.

The ladder suddenly jolted half an inch on the metal rail. Jay was unprepared, and the jolt nearly stopped his heart. Fuckfuckfuck. His hands were sweaty on the rungs. He wiped one, then the other. Bass droned and buzzed from below, making the rungs vibrate terrifyingly. Sound seemed almost like acid, dissolving the ladder beneath him. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up to the final rung. Whatever Ethan has planned had better be worth it.

Jay thrust his head and shoulders into the darkness of the attic.

* * *

“Hello?”

He couldn’t see anything.

Ethan’s attic was black as squid shit and had a smell to match.

Jay groped blindly until he found a ceiling joist. Almost paralyzed with fear, desperate to be off the swaying ladder, he scrabbled up onto it, hauling his legs through the trapdoor. He stood, balancing on the beam, glancing around pointlessly into a darkness that was probably small but felt extremely large.

He could neither see nor hear Ethan and Marina. Nobody answered his hello.

He called again, got the same answer. The dark attic sucked away his voice. Gave nothing back.

Cold and dead air eddied around him. He breathed it in; filling his lungs with the heady perfume of the attic. Head note of primer. Heart notes of moldering sheetrock and rat-gnawed insulation. Base notes of untreated pine. There was no sound—aside from the wind whistling and finding entrance through cracks. And the bass below. It thumped under his feet with the urgency of hands pounding on the inside of a coffin.

“Guys? Where are you?”

His voice sounded different in the attic. Not like himself at all.

“Ethan? Marina?” Is this some fucking joke? Fear drummed against his skin. They can’t have disappeared. So where did they go?

“Fuck this…” he snarled. “And fuck your bullshit ‘gapping’ joke, Ethan. I’m going back down.”

He turned to leave, and his face sank into twin masses of warm, slippery flesh.

* * *

“What the fu—!” Jay plunged headfirst into the valley of two obscenely huge breasts. His voice flooded out of his mouth, and half of a huge meaty boob flooded in to take its place. A nipple popped into his mouth, and he spat it out. Swallowing and swallowed by hot mammary meat, he gagged. Shock spun him from his body—he became a sailor drowning in a fragrantly feminine sea of billowing udders. A sharp giggle brought him back, even though it seemed to come from miles away.

“Got you, silly boyyyy!”

Marina’s tits were vast and deep, quivering like heavy pools of jelly. They sat weightily across his cheeks, nose, and eye sockets, clinging and pressing. He could hardly breath, could barely move, and thought was a dream. Everywhere he turned, he was met by a faceful of cleavage. His face squeaked as it rotated against the slippery surfaces of her globes. His nose ended up planted at the musky-smelling depth of her cleavage, and became trapped.

“Mmmf!” Twin hooters swallowed the word. Marina still heard. She answered, in her way.

“Ssshh…” Jay tried to pull back, but a sly feminine hand caught the back of his head, and forced him back into her balloon-like breasts. Her big knockers seemed to swell past his ears as he was squeezed once more into her cleavage. Flesh deformed around his face like a rubber mask, contouring to the shape of his utter bafflement.

That took a turn.

In the room below, Marina’s rack had strobed with candy-glare lights. In the sightless attic, they became the living avatars of black, denying all that wasn’t dark.

“Relax, silly boy,” Marina’s pumped her tits rhythmically against him. Her voice was deep and thick with giggles. “You’re so stressed and uptight. So worried about nothing at all.”

One hand matched the curve of Jay’s occiput, holding him. Her other hand reached for his belt buckle, and dismantled it with a sharp-fingered cleverness he’d never achieved with a girl’s bra.

This dream got really weird. He thought as his belt was unlooped. I guess it’s sort of cool. A shame it’s not really happening.

His belt buckle popped, and then her hand was inside his pants. His cock swelled as she found it and began jerking him off. He hissed. His penis nearly doubled in length within seconds as blood flushed along his dorsal artery, causing his erection to spill out of his boxer briefs and chafe on the denim of his jeans. Then Marina found his zipper with eerie suddenness in the dark—he began to wonder if she was only pretending to be drunk—ripped his pants open, and let his cock spring out.

Marina’s hand clenched his erection. Her fingers slurped and rasped cross it. He felt resistance melt. He just relaxed forward, sinking into her cocoon of tits, allowing the Miracle of the Attic to occur. He no longer minded that she was old enough to have birthed him: the night was suddenly very dark, and he needed a mommy.

shlup, shlup, shlup… the strokes of his penis against her hand had the cadence of breath against a babe’s ear.

Then a male chuckle reached him inside her face-swallowing breasts. Is that my daddy? Oh fuck, I hope not.

It was Ethan.

There was a crash. Sounded like the trapdoor flung shut. The light scalding up from the room below suddenly vanished from around his peripheral vision. Another shudder rippled through him, provoked by fear rather than lust. It was like he was swimming in the deep ocean, and his lifeline to the surface had just…snapped.

“Ethan? What are you doing?” Gasping, Jay pulled his face out of her trench. Sweat-sticky titflesh clung to him like Saran Wrap. His erection leaked precum, sending coolness oozing in a trail over the heat of his shaft. He felt his sweat—and hers—drying on his dazed face. “What’s going on?”

“He’s not doing it! I’m doing it!” Marina trilled, jerking him off, shoving his face back into her mountainous rack. Her hand was all over his shaft again. Twisting, pulling, squirming. Sensation sank teeth into his nerve endings. “The thing you said doesn’t exist.”

“Marina! I…uh…oh….”

Jay suddenly found his hips moving on autopilot. Swinging against her hand, trying to fuck his needy cock into her palm.

Submerged inside wobbling breasts and pure black, he felt but didn’t see her widening smile.

As he rolled his hips, her hand tore at his shaft like a snapping viper. She did not love him. Perhaps he did not deserve love. She was just jacking him off with all the brutality the word implied and the act deserved. Her strokes gained a fetid liquid squelch as they coaxed precum from his eight inch penis.

Just as he exploded, she dropped into a squat.

Marina’s ass clapped as it bounced on her ankles. She was crouched now. Her nose brushed his orgasm-spasming cock. The sudden disappearance of her breasts from around his face—and her hand from around his cock—disoriented his senses. They had become his entire world, and now that world was over. Terminated. Railroaded from insanity to absurdity to obscenity, his cock began jumping rhythmically, its slit opening wide. He moaned, his glans heating like flesh reaching its melting point…hotter…hotter…

Snorting, he ejaculated.

Cum boiled up his shaft and streamed out in a powerful liquid gush. His penis ballooned in her hand. Just before the first jizz-blast spewed out, Marina’s lips looped over his throbbing shaft, cicatrice-tight.

“Ah! Ah! AHHH!” Red pulses knifed the soft matter of his brain as he creamed like a bombed dairy.

His urethra distended, bulged, and spat bullet-heavy wads of gunk into Marina Diamandis’s mouth. His hips bucked, plunging his cock into her face, making a disgusting mess of her. He saw her lips expanding chipmunk-style with his thick convulsive releases.

Riding the peak of his orgasm, Jay squinted, and saw—barely saw—gleaming breasts jiggling upon his thighs as she crouched, lips drawn over his jumping prick. Her Adam’s apple was bobbing in her throat as she sucked down his load. Hot ballsap tumbled through him and out into her like wind, spraying out in a sticky deluge. He stared in total disbelief and then horror as spurts raced through his penis. They just kept coming. Just like he was.

With her face wedged into his spasming crotch, Marina slurped, sucked, and swallowed his prodigious load until it was gone. Jay’s balls flushed themselves empty, and then dizziness crashed against him like a wall.

His knees sagged against her breasts, and his mind seemed to break open like a cosmic eggshell, flinging him out into the chill of space. He flew beyond the sky, flung between the pounding bass in his crotch and the crashing snare of his orgasm-stricken pulse…then he woke up back in Ethan Mueller’s attic.

Somehow.

Marina stayed coiled and folded on her hands and knees, like an animal caught in the moment before a pounce. She let his cock fall from between her lips. Her heard a liquid gloop splot plap sound as several strands drooled from his glans, painting the attic dust at her feet.

The attic was no longer pitch-black. He was either seeing or imagining light-glints, sutured like stitches through the dark. Marina’s teeth glinting like chips of ice, cruel distant stars that might have been Ethan’s eyes as he stared from across the attic, strands of sperm steaming on the floor, glistening in strange gematria. Light was breaking through.

“What…” Jay panted against orgasmic fog, his cock dripping between his legs. “…was THAT?”

Marina’s laugh was like a whipping wind, wild and crazy and free.

“Gapping. It’s where two teens fuck a person who’s older than both of them combined!”

“Problematic,” Jay said, as his dangling cock went drop once again.

“The latest fad,” Ethan replied.

Marina smiled, stood, and folded him into a warm embrace. Breasts pooled like molten wax across his chest. Her head cut sideways against his neck, and her teeth nipped his ear.

“…And we haven’t even started doing it, honey.”

* * *



Marina’s hands…

They were all over him. Inflicting surprises like wounds.

Stripping away his shirt. Pinching his nipples. Tickling his belly-button. Grasping a hot palmful of fattening teenage cock…

Jay blinked as he was groped, his expanding pupils finally starting to see. Midway through her handjob, the attic had developed around him like a photograph in a vinegar bath.

They were inside a narrow space. It ran the length of the house and arched over their heads like clasped and folded hands. Two dark slants rose upward, terminating in a Dutch gabled roof, where darkness swallowed the furthest point. The roof was braced aloft by a lacy spiderweb of purlins, scissor-beams, struts, and cantilevers. Thin blue light bled in through cracks—perhaps the Beverly Hills streetlights, perhaps the moon. Jay didn’t know. Everywhere, cardboard boxes were stacked as high as the slanted roof allowed. Rats had devoured the corners of many. Their contents spilled out into the air, hanging in space like entrails. It was tight in the attic. Ethan fit. Marina almost did. Eight inches taller than either of them, Jay would have to duck each time he walked under a purlin.

Marina tossed aside his shirt. Flup. Her voice felt like a whip, tracing patterns of ice and pain on Jay’s chest.

“Come to meee…stupid boyyyy…”

He started to walk…toward her voice, toward her flesh…

“Stupid, stupid boyyyy…”

Her voice was brattish. Drunk. But he no longer thought she was a brat and was no longer even certain she was drunk. A scam existed, but maybe he was its mark—maybe that had always been true all along. Ethan was not the only scammer in the world, and Marina not the only person who fell for them.

“Come, silly little boyyyyyyyy….”

But he had no time to consider this. Her barely-seen finger invited him forward. A teeth-flashing smile curved a moon’s scimitar behind it. Then Marina stepped away, creating emptiness. A vacuum for him to fill.

Bewitched, Jay stepped forward into near darkness. His head struck one of the same purlins he’d noted as an obstacle seconds ago. Ow. Fuck. Could you blame him? His eyes were focused on one thing: the famous flesh of Marina Diamandis.

“Come. Come. Come…”

Smirking and sneering, she toyed with her food. Allowed him to get close enough for skin to hiss against skin…only to slink away. Retreating further back into the attic. Forcing him to give chase, to play his hand, to reveal his desperation.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid booyyyyyy….” Her heaving torpedo tits touched his muscular chest once, then swept away again. Nipples receded into two jiggling points of light. Only her gaze wouldn’t leave. She was challenging him.

Jay followed her through the attic. He lacked her eerie surefootedness. He tripped over rafters, over boxes, over his own goddamned feet. Party music hammered from below, making the attic shudder and moan and breathe. The entire house seemed to convulse like a beating heart.

Finally, Marina ran out of attic. Cornered, her back to the wall, she dropped to all fours.

She swayed and slinked. Pacing a feline-small circle on her hands and knees, she swung her luscious body in tight curves and swerves. She was utterly desirable. A tidal surge of blood flushed into Jay’s ears and cheeks and other areas. His lust-skipping heart leaped into his throat. Stripped and naked, she glowed, possessing a wild tigeress quality that the day could not conjure and the night could not restrain. She smiled blackly. Her back curved into a severe Anita Ekberg arch, causing her bulbous breasts to hang low, brushing the rafters in pendulous masses the size of soccer balls. They dangled so low that her nipples left streaks in the dust. He longed to heft Marina’s huge breasts. Longed so badly it hurt.

Then she swung her body away from him. Her dangling breasts whiplashed out of view, and her fat dumptruck ass filled his face instead. She snarled and flexed her ass muscles. A heart-freezing avalanche of assmeat convulsed and exploded before his eyes. He saw her labia minora and majora, throbbing and wet between splayed legs. Her slit wept a silver trail of fluid, which oozed from her like spiderthread.

Jay swallowed. Mouth dry. Cock wet. The scene had an obscene perversity, like he’d stumbled onto a human sacrifice ritual with Marina’s beautiful body as the altar. Maybe he had. Maybe he was the intended sacrifice.

The least he could do was not be a virgin sacrifice.

As she coiled around his ankles, his cock leaped, spasming against his stomach. He wanted to fuck her for days.

Then he filled his hands with palmfuls of hipflesh. Rage at being teased incited his lust. You want it? You’re getting it. She was about to get torn apart by his prick. His fingers knotted deliciously through her overfed ass cheeks, until they were almost swallowed by her meat. Marina seesawed her haunches, swinging her dump truck ass back and forth with alluring floor-cleaner swings. Eager to be fucked. To be impaled. She somehow contrived to make her holes flutter open—first her glistening pink pussy gaped, then the dark oroborus of her ass dilated pungently. Quite the party trick to possess—even if the parties that would welcome it were few.

Then Marina tilted her head, until one eye was staring back at him.

“What are you waiting for?” He saw the curve of her cheekbone, the melted black heart gleaming like obsidian upon it.

Nothing. There was nothing to wait for.

So Jay planted his heavy glans against her throbbing cunt-hole—a deep ugh shuddered out of her throat—and he sank his blood-pulsing erection deep inside her body.

GLUUUUURRRRPPP-SQUUUEEELLLCHHH

One thrust. That was all it took to plant himself to the balls. His cock made a rudely-textured blocked-pipe sound as it rode down her slippery cunt-tunnel. She quaked with molten lust as he came to a halt deep inside her.

Jay hissed, unready for the scorching heat of her twat, or the head-spinning way her ribbed muscles fluttered upon him. He almost lost his footing on a rafter beam. Worse: he almost ejaculated inside the singer’s cunt right there and then. He’d never been so close or so distant from his body. Perception and reality spun apart and clashed, two aliens, then two enemies at war. The floorboards seemed to be twisting and melting in useless MC Escher spaghetti. Nothing made sense, now that he was in her cunt.

He wriggled his pulsating glans against her cervix. Her walls fluxed white-hot pleasure upon him. He gasped. She gaped. He just held his cock there, letting his heartbeat pound in his mind like artillery fire, and then he started humping.

Schlopp! Plapp! Blapp! Plooorpshhh! Squeelkkk! Gluuuuckkkk! Sklurrrchhh! Skloorrrchhh! Splorrrkkk! Glurrrchhh! Bluuurppp! Slooorshhh! SKLOORRRCHHHISULLLCHHH!

She moaned. The moan instantly ignited, becoing a scream.

Jay fucked away at her pussy, stabbing his slick cock through her like a piston. Red animalistic pleasure exploded over his mind. With each thrust in—SCHLOPP!—Marina’s back quivered, an arch dripping with sweat. With every rasping stroke out—SCHLAPP!—sex fluid drooled and splattered on the attic floor.

Fucking. Pumping. Hard, confident strokes. He had her measure now. He raised his eyes, staring across the fleshy, buxom bridge of Marina Diamandis’s curved body. On the other side of that Rubicon was Ethan, who stared back.

He’d stepped up in front of Marina. He was naked. Jay could not recall hearing him take off his clothes. His ripped jeans, shirt, and tracksuit were draped like snakeskin off a stack of vinyl records at the back of the attic. The Fuerza Regida tracksuit had fallen with a fold across it, shortening the band name by a few letters. FUERGIDA. Just as much a real band as Ethan Mueller’s DJ M00LT1-TR4XXX project was.

Jay’s stare dropped to his friend’s body. His eyes shot wide open.

What the fuck is THAT between Ethan’s legs?

Marina was staring down a a colossal, obscene, leather-mottled organ that belonged on a Clydesdale, not a manorexic twink. Ethan’s erect cock jutted at least nine inches into space. Ugly veins twisted from the cap down the shaft and onto cueball-sized testicles shrouded in heavily-wrinkled skin-sacks. Jay considered himself well-equipped, but Ethan was clearly longer than he was, if a bit less thick. God dump-statted every single fucking thing about this kid to max out the size of his cock.

At the other end of that ridiculous pillar of flesh was Marina’s face. A blob of precum wept from his cock’s slit, plopping onto her nose. While Jay slammed her from behind, Ethan slipped his glans onto her lips, then snapped his fingers. Imperious and in control.

“Suck me off…” His mouth shaped but didn’t speak a fourth word. …whore.

Obedient to her employer—her master—Marina smothered her face in his crotch.

While Jay pumped Marina’s pussy, Ethan let her head bob on his dick. He smiled slightly as the beautiful, huge-breasted singer gave him a suckjob. Not a smile of delight, and certainly not of surprise. A Zen-like the world is as it should be smile.

“Good bitch,” Ethan spoke as he packed her face with his cock. Gripping her hair with a scrawny hand, he wedged her face even further onto his heavy bitch-breaking shaft. “Get it all the way down. And don’t spill when you swallow, like I just saw you do with Jay.

An obscene slobbering filled Jay’s ears as Marina worked her mouth up and down his riot-baton-thick prick. Finally, she got most of his length in her mouth. But this was just the start: Ethan’s hands were all over her face, sculpting her movements like clay. His hands grasped and pulled her hair into sharp handles, wrenching them into strangling ropes as he humped his fuckstick down her neck. Her face reddened. The gurgles migrated from her mouth to her neck, which suddenly had a bulge halfway down it.

Ethan watched her suffocate with awareness but zero pity as he demolished Marina’s pretty face. Driving his hips forward, he jabbed his horrifyingly big erection to the root between her lips, packing her throat with fat, gut-pumping meat. She gurgled and choked and grunted like a beast. She did the only thing she really could do against the nine-incher Ethan was packing.

Lose.

* * *

SCHLOOOOORRRRRKKKKK-GLUUUUURRRRPPP-SQUUUEEELLLCHHH-SPLUUUURRRRTTTT-PLAAAAPPPP-OOOOOZZZZZE-HISSSSSS!

At the other end of this ongoing atrocity against the human larynx, Jay threw long slippery strokes into Marina’s yawning pussy, jackhammering his hips against hers. Fucking their bodies together, then pulling apart. Each time he drew his cock back, Marina’s engorged labia clung stickily to his shaft like bubble-gum. He was trying not to cum, and slowly losing that battle, too.

Each pounding stroke against her ass sent delicious ripples spilling along her mature, thickly-fleshed body. Her breasts wobbled like churchbells. Their beautiful curves wept trails of sweat. They were so huge and full that half their mass was visible even from behind her back.

This continued for some minutes. Jay and Ethan pumped hard shafts into her at both sides, Eiffel Towering in the near-darkness of the attic, almost flinging her huge-titted body back and forth between them with their hips, like she was the ball in some game they were playing…

GLURCH SPLORP GLORP SPLOOSH!

Jay mashed his hips to hers, grinding his shaft deep into her squelching whorebox. His thrusts gained speed. Her thick, luscious body seemed to oscillate and ripple as he propelled his hips forward and in, again and again and again. Monster-sized tits volleyballed back and forth, further and further, as he fucked her toward a climax.

SKLURP BLURP SCHLUUURK GLOMP!

Gathering his strength, Jay punched forward. His cock-root slapped and smacked wetly against her labia lips. Meanwhile, he reached under her body and stroked her jutting clit.

This triggered an explosion.

GLORP GLORP GLORP GLORP GLORP GLORP GLORP GLORP

Her pelvis surged forward onto his hand, and she climaxed like a slut in heat. A full-body orgasm rose and broke inside Marina Diamandis with shattering force, twisting her body, twisting the two cocks throbbing inside. Her back flexed, her swinging tits vibrated themselves into blurs, and a scream built and died to a gurgle against Ethan Mueller’s mighty cock.

Jay slammed his penis as deep as possible inside a cunt that was alive with orgasmic contractions. Lewd, splattery sprays of gloop and squirt splattered over his thighs and ballsack.

“Ah! Ugh!” His hips kicked forward. Fucking away the remaining seconds. Slamming his pink prick into Marina. Each thrust shot a spike of electric pleasure through his brain, like the 220-volt death that hits a calf’s brain in the slaughter chute.

GLURCH SPLORP GLORP SPLOOSH SKLURP BLURP SCHLUUURK GLOMP KRLOOSH GLOOSH SPLATCH GLUP SKLURSH!

Noises gurgled out between their sweaty, pumping crotches. Each one was louder and wetter and more obscene than the last. Jay planted his cock into her slurping, slavering cunt, feeling pussy juice gush from her split-open fruit. Hello darkness my old friend, he thought humorlessly, as cum bubbled up for the second time that evening.

Marina’s moans turned to screams, her cunt clenching as her orgasm crested and subsided. The lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed off the walls. Rebounds of flesh and blood and muscle and bone, pounded together without surcease. Marina’s grasping slutbox wrapped around Jay’s tool, sucking him deeper into its volcanic heat. Her pussy slurped and gulped at his vein-knotted shaft his balls smacked heavily against her asscrack.

“Ah! Ugh!” His hips kicked forward. Fucking frantically. Her orgasm was like a sneeze, and now he was infected with it. Pleasure intensified. Brighter…hotter…

GLURCH SPLORP GLORP SPLOOSH SKLURP BLURP SCHLUUURK GLOMP KRLOOSH GLOOSH SPLATCH GLUP SKLURSH!

Bottoming out, he grunted and blasted. His balls rose, and blew splattery, heavy ropes of semen into her squirt-oozing cunt. His release was so intense that he collapsed forward onto Marina’s back.

At the other side, Ethan pulled his colossal organ back several inches, from her throat to her mouth. A muscle twitched in his pubis. Once. Twice. That was the only external sign as he, too, began to cum.

Big, sloppy explosions of cum surged out of him, audibly splattering inside Marina’s mouth. Huge horse-blasts of semen flooded into her mouth, making her body whiplash at the taste. The sound of cockslop firing down Marina’s throat was sudden and obscene. Her throat began pumping, trying to keep up with the heavy draughts of baby-batter Ethan was expelling.

Marina gagged on Ethan’s fat spewing prick, while Jay dumped a fresh load of wrigglers into her unprotected cunt at the other end. She seesawed back and forth between two ejaculating cocks until the endless cum-ropes stopped piling up inside her, then she pulled her head off Ethan’s cock with a pop. Gasped for air as strands of saliva and precum connected his obscene glans to her mouth.

* * *



Ethan had facefucked her into next week.

Her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes were shellshocked voids. The loose-hanging fake lash had come off entirely. Someone would find it lying on the attic floor in a year or forty, coiled and twisted, and perhaps mistake it for a dead insect. The sperm dribbling out of her mouth from both sides of her painted lips mixed with thick ropes of saliva that Ethan’s dick had whipped into froth. She panted like a horse: big breasts gleaming in massive heaves.

With a gasp, Jay withdrew his orgasm-sensitive cock from her cunt. The flaccid dick came unplugged, flopping against his thigh. Her thick pussy lips audibly disgorged the eighteen-year-old’s heavy load, which spewed out of her like strands of melted cheese.

Near-silence returned to the attic. They gasped. The wind whispered its nothings. The sub-bass machinegunned against their feet, endless and monotonous. The silence was awkward.

Jay scratched his scalp, found it a running river of sweat in full flood. How much time have we been up there? Michelle’s gonna start thinking certain thoughts…

He felt guilt for cheating on her as his cock began twitching itself erect again.

He wanted to fuck this beautiful woman some more. In fact, he probably had to.

Marina burped disgustingly on Ethan’s load. BEELLLLCCHHHHH! A cum strand wobbled like jelly on her chin with that burp.

“I love big-dicked teens!” she yelled, with no conversational lead-in whatsoever. Jay cringed. That silence might have been the most awkward moment of my life to that point, but it didn’t hold the top spot for long, did it?

“So…you guys have done this before?” Jay said, mostly to make conversation.

Marina stood on legs as wobbly as a newborn gemsbok’s.

“Yes! Lots! He fucks me all the time! Up my pussy, up my arse, down my throat. We come up here all the time and do it. I can’t understand kids until I understand how they fuck, and gapping’s part of it. I need to know about all the new developments in sex.”

Jay didn’t know why he bothered trying to introduce reality to a person this drunnk.

“There are no new developments in sex. The Romans basically did it all two thousand years ago. You’re a middle-aged chick who’s fucking two high schoolers. Groundbreaking shit, Marina. Truly groundbreaking.”

He stopped talking, because he was being ignored. He watched as Marina and Ethan performed aftercare on each other. Kissing. Murmuring. Caressing. A tender moment, if you ignored the semen spewing from her freshly-fucked cunt. It oozed down her thighs in glistening trails. They clearly knew each other well. They communicated in glances like sentences, whispers like speeches. Compression algorithms running in reverse.

Then Ethan reached down and tugged his cock. It re-erected swiftly, swinging out like a crane. The huge, throbbing slab of fuckmeat seemed comically big as it jutted from his frail, elfin body. He tapped Marina’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing to tapered blades.

“Again.” Quiet. Almost too quiet to hear.

Marina lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said, responding to a question that never was. “Again. And don’t make me tell you where.”

She smiled. Submitted. Became soft and compliant meat for him. With the lightest of touches on her body, Ethan repositioned her to suit his libidinous impulses. She understood what he wanted at the same moment he understood what he wanted.

She kneeled again, flipped her body around, and split her legs with her ass raised in front of his shaft. She sprawled forward in a doggystyle pose, as before. But her muscles seemed tensed differently. Ready for different species of pleasures; different phylums of pain.

Jay assumed that Ethan wanted to fuck Marina Diamandis’s pussy. But the small boy leaned forward into her asshole, and hocked a glob of phlegm straight into it. She giggled as it hit her puckered ring.

“That tickles!” Her laughter belled out.

“That’s a short-term problem. Soon you won’t feel anything there at all.” Ethan’s finger stabbed it into her rectum, worming his spittle in circles. Then he pulled apart her legs and slid his entire body underneath hers, like a fucked up game of Twister. His feet appeared beneath her boobs, followed by his legs. He stopped when his hips were directly positioned beneath her ass.

Marina straddled his hips, propping her ass in a reverse cowgirl position. Her legs lewdly split on either side, she propped her buttocks in the air just above Ethan’s cock as he lay on the ground.

Her body and twat faced Jay, whose own cock was now fully erect. They made awkward eye contact. She flashed him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture, dying of shame. What do you even do in this situation?

“Ready?” Ethan asked on the floor.

“Ready,” Marina gritted her teeth and wriggled her ass. Her face had the scowled determination of a soldier at Normandy.

She sank her ass down. Ethan’s scrawny thighs flung his ass up. The two vectors met. Collided. Exploded. Ethan’s enormous fuckshaft bent visibly at the middle as her ass resisted its diameter, then it broke through: plunging into her rectum with the single foulest sound Jay had ever fucking heard.

SQUUUUEEEEELLLLLCHHHHH-PLUUUGGGHHHH!

Marina roared as Ethan’s cock dug straight up her slavering, dirty shit-tunnel, digging a messy path straight through her hot gripping guts. “Oh my fucking Goooooood!”

GLORKKK! SQLLLLLCHHHHH! SCHLOORP-PLAAAAAAPPPPPSHHH!

“HNNNGHH!” Marina’s neck muscles stood out like suspension bridge cables as she humped a cock the size of a Cavendish banana up her asshole. Hunching forward, then rocking backward, she shunted her meaty hindquarters down upon his prick in stages. Lewd disgusting sounds burst like thunder as she wriggled her ass in circles, swallowing him deeper and deeper.

Marina looped her arms around Jay’s body, hugging him for support as her ass sank down. Inch after inch of cock disappeared inside her. Finally, she roared and jackknifed her strong meaty thighs down all the way onto Ethan’s cock, socketing him balls-deep in her gaping ass.

“Good, Marina.” Ethan’s hand was playing with her hair. It casually tied strands in intricate knots that would probably take her literal hours to undo. She didn’t appear to notice.

Once she regained her bravery, she began humping the cock. Muscles flared in her neck as it pistoned a trench up her rectum, splitting her apart like a huge fat tapeworm. Soon, her rocking hips settled into a rhythm. Ethan’s flesh surged and glided in and out of her asshole with a steady, wet drumbeat of flesh clapping flesh.

Her torso began bouncing on Ethan’s big sloppy penis. Her ass cheeks jolted and clapped as they bounced on the shelf of his crotch. Her breasts flew and spun. The loud, lewd noise of hot filthy assfucking gushed from their rutting hips.

Then she raised her eyes to Jay, who was still standing in front of her, stepping gingerly around Ethan’s lower body. What’s the move, big boy?

Jay didn’t know. But he was facing her chest, and his blood-engorged erection seemed to have the answer. It was actually pointing the way as it bobbed in the fuck-filthy air.

Forward. Straight into her massive balloon-sized tits.

Jay straddled Marina’s reverse-cowgirl’d body, and pressed his slick crotch to her chest. He plopped his fat, hefty schlong between her gigantic tits—she hardly seemed to notice as Jay grabbed massive handfuls of boob, hawked and spat between them, and began grinding out pleasure for himself inside her tit-channel. His hips rocked back and forth, fucking her sloshing trench of breasts. His lubed-up prick shot forward, squelched its long, pleasure-crazed journey up her chest, before his cockhead finally shot out into the space beyond those bulging boob-masses. A steel spike, set inside softest velvet.

Marina’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, releasing saliva. It went into her rack. You could see every inch of Ethan’s cock burrow up her ass from the expressions flashing over her face. Disgust, lust, shame, surrender. She emoted her inner feelings like the trained pop chanteuse she was. Her mouth dropped open in a moan of ass-ravaged pleasure as her depths flooded with spasming cock, but Jay decided he’d pretend her moans were for his cock in her tits.

He gritted his teeth, pumping deep and slow through her boobs, dragging out pleasure until her enormous shelf of titflesh felt like an agonizing rocky mountainslope he was climbing, hauling himself up one sweat-drenched lunge at a time.

“Woah,” Jay’s body arched. Hips whipping viciously; cock fucking soft jiggly breastflesh. Marina just moaned, hardly aware of him. Sweat frosted her haunches, as she swung her hips back against Ethan’s dick. Her breath panted out excitedly, seasoned with an increasing volume of moans, as Jay sawed his boner between Marina Diamandis’s messy cock-milking fucktanks.

Splat-splat-SPLAAAAATTTT! PLOOOORRRPPP-SMACK! SCHLOOOOPPP-THWACK!

Below, Marina’s gaping ass bellowed a fifty-two piece symphony of rude and lewd noises as a cock thicker than a TV remote was slammed up her back door. She sped up, bouncing as fast as Ethan’s width—and hers—would allow. Her phlegm-wet tits made similarly rude noises as they whipped like speedbags around Jay’s lunging erection. He frantically pumped his cock so close to her ribcage that he felt her heart beating against it his penis. Ka-Thump Ka-Thump Ka-Thump. Jay picked up pace, pounding her with brutal force. Her tits made loud, obscenely sexual smacking sounds as her cleavage was stuffed like a stocking with teen boy dick. The air filled with the foul stench of their fucking. He could hardly breathe.

Marina bellowed throatily as Ethan continued to butt-fuck her, as Jay continued to tit-fuck her. Their sweat-drenched flesh twisted together, knotting together the way rats are said to. Every plosive plap and squelch was set in lewd counterrhythm to her breathy lust-moans.

BLORP SCHLUPP SCHLUPP SCHLUPP SCHLUPP SCHLUPP!

The tit-slapping rhythm of Marina’s tits on Jay’s cock grew wild and loose as she reached her zenith, another orgasm rising. She moaned like a slut in heat, face flushing even deeper, and brayed loud enough to rattle the rafters. Her fat, fleshy tit-cannons flew wildly, nearly escaping Jay’s hands as he slammed against her tits.

Her mouth slid wide open. The screams of hell escaped. “CUUUUMMMIIING!!!”

Marina was losing her mind. Still fucking Ethan’s cock up her butthole, she sped up until her ass flew—it lifted, revealing the seven or eight inches of glistening boycock she’d just expelled from her dirty ass—before clapping back down, her flesh swallowing him to the balls. Cunt-cream and sperm and sweat sprayed in a musky mist over the floor.

“AAAAAHHHHHH! OH GOOODDDD!!!! HHHHHMMMMMGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! OWN MY ARSE! IT’S YOURS! I’M YOURS! EVERYTHING’S YOUUURRRSSSS!”

Sweat gleamed on a face that clearly showed the orgasm stampeding through her crotch. Her eyes bugged out and she began to drool as she began throwing her ass up and down in hard knifing stabs.

Ethan finally reached his limit, and blew his load up Marina’s ass. His entire body twisted beneath her splayed thighs, like a slug tortured with fire. His heavy balls collapsed along the raphe suture of his scrotum, discharging a cataclysmic release straight up her asshole.

SLLOOOOCH SQLCH! BLUBB SCHLOP SCHLUK! SPLUCK SQRLCH SQISHH! SCHLUPP SCHLICK SLOOOSH!

He gasped, his back jerking. The big vein in his cock throbbed beneath her body, hosing steady streams of cum into her shit-pipe. Ethan fucked his cock up her ass, pounding through his orgasm. Each slam of his hips sent a stream of pussy juice spilling back down over his meaty, slapping balls. Jay humped her massive tits, feeling a tell-tale itch start in his own crotch. He did not have long left. But does anyone, existentially speaking?

“AHHHH!” Marina’s mascara-bloodshot eyes rolled back as yet another orgasm charged through her. She jerked and thrashed, impaled ass-deep on the semen-vomiting spike of Ethan’s cock. Squirt blasted hotly from her twat, spraying wetness across Jay’s firmly-planted ankles.

Jay swung his prick back and forth. Fucking a cage of tits, while the woman they were attached to orgasmed her last brain cell out. He prepared to cum for the third time between a pair of monstrous breasts that seemed as large as soccer balls. Fuck, she was stacked. He pulled himself out-then-in for the last time, felt his shaft twitch against her chest, felt his heart knocking against his chest, and then…

Lost control. Nearly lost consciousness. Fell upward, levitated downward, burned in water, drowned in flame.

Exploded between her quivering tits. Thick strands of white spewed out of his clenching glans. To him, his thick smelly sperm seemed like stardust as it settled on her chest.

SCHLUUUP-SQUELCH-SCHLAPP-SQUEEEAAAAAAK!

Marina’s pumping breasts smashed wetly around a cock that was suddenly hosing fat ropes of jizz against her chin. SPLAT BLURP GLOOOP BLOORRP! Strands blasted from the tip, hit the shelf of her lower jaw, slowly rolled down the curve of her neck, then pooled back into her rippling cleavage, where his plunging cock churned them to bubbles as it spat out the next volley of cum. And the next.

SQUUUUEEEEELLLLLCHHHHH-BLOOOORRRPPP-HISSSSSS!

He clenched his teeth, shooting off wildly and painfully, jabbing his cock through a glistening white runway of hot glistening sperm. He ran down, and sank against the softness of her tits.

All noise stopped once more.

The sex-stinking room dissolved in a misty, musky haze of pleasure, which washed through their minds as though they were a single connected tunnel. Then some self-awareness returned to Jay. He stepped back from Marina’s chest, seeing the cum-patterns he’d blasted there.

The awkwardness had returned.

Awkwardness, and guilt.

Marina flashed them a shy smile. Darkness dimmed the smile to glints of teeth and glitter. She shifted her left leg, and swung her butt in a lewd, cock-milking circle, dragging Ethan’s prick around with it, before standing up.

Her rectum detached from the boy’s cock with a suctioning plop. Her legs quivered like stilts. Her asshole spluttered, degradingly releasing the anal creampie he’d shot into her bowels.

As the two boys gasped for air, they stared at Marina. She looked like a stranger to them.

The two of them had fucked the clock back by twenty years. With her makeup destroyed, she looked vulnerable and soft somehow, like a small child trying to seem old, with Mommy’s makeup plastered on her face with stolen brushes. Like everything Ethan related, it was an illusion and a mirage…but some goals are impossible. A dream they are, and a dream they remain.

“And that…” Marina said shyly. “Is gapping.”

She comically extended her arms, as if to say ta-da! Jay cringed again.

Ethan smacked a palm on her big ass. SLAP! “I still don’t think Jay understands how gapping works.”

She mewled playfully. “Yes, he does!”

“You distracted him. He was so busy ogling those big hooters of yours that he didn’t hear one word. Bad girl.”

He winked at Jay, who picked up the ball and ran with it. “You know, maybe I could use a little extra study. Just to make sure I fully get the concept.”

Marina smiled brightly. Her fingers curled on Ethan’s shoulder. “Wanna go to your room? And…y’know…do it some more?”

“I was born wanting that.”

Jay spoke to Ethan while he looked for his pants and shirt. “Dude, don’t get this twisted, but…”

“Yeah…?”

“I always kinda thought you were gay.”

Ethan leaned contrapposto against a wooden post, his smile slanted and ambiguous. “Maybe I am.”

“Ha. Could have fooled me.” Jay laughed, sweeping his eyes across the sex-splattered debauchery of the attic. Boxes had been knocked askew. Squirt had been firehosed against every surface. Evidence of dirty, filthy, barely-legal fucking was inscribed in every inch of dust and debris for a ten foot radius around their bodies. They’d probably screwed the value of the property down by a percentage point or two, and with a Beverly Hills postcode, that was saying something.

Ethan held his gaze, and spoke without humor.

“Every straight guy is gay for David Bowie. Every gay guy is straight for Marina Diamandis. Those are the rules. Get dressed, go downstairs, get a sixpack of energy drinks from the fridge, then meet us in the master bedroom. You won’t be sleeping at all tonight.”

* * *



Five days later, Jay was in the McDonald’s drive-through. The bad side of the McDonald’s drive-through. The side where you wear a uniform and get in trouble if you spit in the coffee.

Not everyone can be a sociopathic rich kid. Some people have to work for a living.

“Have a great day,” he mumbled, wiping sugar-sticky hands on his apron. You’re supposed to line up the dots on the cap when you screw it on, you boneheads. Spilled coffee was drying down his leg for the third time that day. Trainees, man. Fuck off with that shit.

One car slid out, another slid in. Rolling metal just drove endlessly past the drive-through window until the separation between cars vanished, and they felt like segments of an eternal metal caterpillar that covered the length of the city. Except caterpillars didn’t change their minds or bitch at him or breathe COVID into his face while he took their order.

Surprise surprise, the next car had his girlfriend Michelle inside it. He knew it was her before he even saw her eyes. A wolf-trail of ash-blonde hair twisted and spilled out the open window, like a crack over the paint of her car. Ethan’s AI-generated M00LT1-TR4XXX song thudded over her stereo. He hated that song so goddamn much.

“Yo.”

“Hey.”

He took Michelle’s order and avoided her stare. Their relationship was officially on life support after the party at Ethan’s mansion. Michelle had naturally grown suspicious when her boyfriend had disappeared with Marina Diamandis for most of the night. His story—she was passing out from alcohol intoxication, I had to make sure she was safe—had grown unsustainable after Marina had posted a status update on Instagram.

sometimes good sex is the best for bringing out your inner child #gapping #youngmen

“Are you hearing about this ‘gapping’ shit?” Michelle puckered up her cute nose in distaste.

“No,” Jay lied.

“I don’t know what it means or where it came from, but everyone at school’s talking about it suddenly. Just wondering if you knew what it was. Something to do with sex with an older person, I gather?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The coffee cup scalded his hand as he passed it through the window.

Marina was really getting her money’s worth out of Ethan Mueller, it seemed, and pole-vaulting sessions on his rhino-sized dick weren’t the half of it. She’d wanted to be relevant again, and Ethan had made her so relevant that she knew about youth trends before they even existed.

Michelle drove away, leaving him shaking his head.

THE END