The Garden of Heathens & Heavy Breathin

New Chapter: Stranger On My Flight

2010-05-20T14:04:00.000-07:00

He made his way to the front of the plane. He had his flight plan. You have to elevate to accumulate. His game was top-notch, time to execute. He asked the flight attendant an irrelevant question since he already knew the answer. Just to buy time, a chance to get near her.

He walked slowly, hoping she'd look up.
Jackpot.
He almost thought he heard a cash register sound go off in his head.

He made eye contact like a lion meets eyes with a gazelle as it crushes its windpipe and watches it suffocate.

"Hi" he said as if he had no confidence. But he had enough to make a move, which was more than enough by most women's standards since most men are pussies at making a move. But he had more than enough confidence, bordering on cocky if you asked his friends.

"Hi", she said, her voice was quaint and appealing on so many levels. Like a squeaky little chew toy, he wanted her in his mouth. He was already drooling like a Great Dane with a cornered Chihuahua.

"Where's your boyfriend?" He asked as if it mattered. But he already knew he was as good as gold. He could be so far deep in her; he could wear her like a skin suit if he wanted. Just another hooker in a garbage bag to throw in the trunk. He had serial-killer type game; he was that fucking good at fucking. He rolls in pussy like Donald Trump rolls in green, but without the bad hair and shit-eating grin.

With a straightforward question like that, it’s hard to ignore his massive balls. It’s a wonder he didn't sit on them more often.

He was ready to let his mind meld all his senses into one collective fucking machine. Bliss was the prime directive.

Her answer was simply a reflection of the inherent destiny in these two. She giggled, but soon...she'd gargle.

"I'm flying alone" she said. "What about you?"

"Me? I don't have a boyfriend. I don't do guys"

"No! That's not what I meant." She giggled again.

"Heh, yeah, I know. I'm just playin’. Good to see you have a sense of humor" he said. He actually liked to play the game. The playful chatter was good filler in between the business aspects of it all. "I'm gonna ask you a question, and humor me here, just don't take it the wrong way. But first, I need to know two things from you before I can ask this question".

"Sure, go for it. Whatcha got?" Her playful nature only increased his appetite. She seemed to know where this was headed, and the most tantalizing part was this: she seemed to want it more than he did.

"Okay, first and foremost I see no ring...kids?"

She laughed, "Nope. Next". She smiled to egg him on...

He laughed a little himself. This was going too well. He couldn't believe it. This ultra-hot chick was game all the way.

"Haha, okay. Well then, this one may take some thinking, but I'll be as straight as I can...."

If suspense was there, it was absent from her eyes. He felt as if she already knew the answer without a question to go with it.

This was simple human nature. No alcohol to break down the barriers and make him brave. No drugs to make her a mindless fuck puppet. All this needed was progression of time to occur. This was man and woman boiled down to the bare essentials: attraction, desire, lust, maybe even a hint of exploration, and surely a dash of physical nature. We are the sexual beasts we try to deny.

Her eagerness for the game gave him all the courage he'd need. Not that he needed any anyway. His dick was a knife, her vagina a fillet Mignon. The only thing left was to figure out how to hold both at the same time, cut it on open, and dig in. He wanted to dive further in her head with a well thought out line of questioning designed to make sure she wouldn’t get attached…or God forbid…mention the “L” word. But, for some reason, he decided to call an audible. He went straight for the gold.

"Do you ever find yourself thinking someone across the room would be absolutely amazing in bed?"

"Well...," she paused. Then she smirked, "Of course."

Her smile was like Lucifer when he caught wind of Hitler's "Final Solution". Evil. Curiosity killed the cat, but apparently curiosity on an airplane got Steve fucking laid, big-time.

"Soooo....what's the difficult question?" She said, stopping to lick her lips.

Vixen. Sultry. Devious.

He was almost flustered at how things had unfolded. There was no game left to play, this chick was overflowing with an uncanny desire to get her snatch beat down inside this jet, and he was just the man to do it. No more bullshit, it was time to throw the lure. "Well the next one is easy, want to meet me in the bathroom in about, umm...5 minutes?"

"Sure." She said with a sinister laugh barely audible to human ears. "But why wait?"

She stood up, brushed by him, and gave him the once over. Her eyes flowed from his feet to his eyes. Then she promptly went straight to the restrooms. His eyes watched her the whole way. She turned back from the open doorway, just to give his eyes one last tug with her tight ass that lay just beneath her silk dress, and then closed the door. He wasn’t sure if this was his game or hers.

This went far beyond his initial intentions. His confidence, while still present, had been warped into a twisting, confused ball of curiosity.

He collected his jaw off the floor, and went straight to the door she left him hanging at. It was time to make a second cockpit on this airplane.

His knock was rather subtle. After all, they were still on a plan with a couple hundred other passengers. He briefly thought about the Taco Bell in the airport. He'd hoped not too many passengers had a thing for pseudo-Mexican food. He needed this bathroom for a while. He had no intentions of making this quick. They’d have to settle for dropping a deuce in their barf bags. This was his territory now.

The door opened. There she was. Her bra was already off, folded and sitting in the sink with her panties on top. God damn he loved skirts and dresses. All other women's clothing should be treated with the same misguided venom as marijuana and banned.

He was quick to enter...the stall. He was sure to take his time with her.

She was after all, absolutely gorgeous. She caught his eye in the airport but in the frantic nature of not wanting to miss his flight since he overslept, and the ever impending doom of a guys hand up your ass because you look semi-middle eastern simply because you didn't have time to shave, was more than enough to occupy his mind.

No names. No need for them. Her smile seemed eternal, he'd swear it hadn't left her face since their eyes met moments ago. She went straight for his belt. He knew he should've worn gym-shorts, but this was more fun anyway. To him it was like watching her unwrap a gift at Christmas.

Trying to get past the layers of societies restraints to get down to the nitty-gritty natural meeting of man and woman was like trying to unwrap that present underwater while being surrounded by sharks and without an air tank. Frantic, claustrophobic, sinister...their focus was singular in spite of all this.

He leaned in for a kiss. She bit his lip, pulled him in closer. He almost lost his balance. He had to brace himself against the walls to keep from falling on her completely. Her strength was deceiving, either that or she was a demon in disguise. At this point, her intrigue and overall ability to wrestle control of the situation away from him made that assumption more than plausible. She ripped his belt past all 5 loops in one tug. He was more than just impressed, he was euphoric.

This slowly turned from him exerting his will as an attractive male with an ass-load of confidence, into a case of an equally more attractive female trying on a stranger for size.

This experiment was under her control now. He had to relinquish the reigns...not a damn part of him regretted it.

She leaned back on the sink and pushed his pants down with her foot. She put her legs against the wall, and pulled him in. Her body heat was reassuring. He could feel her warm thighs instantly.

Innocence from this woman was gone. He kept trying to focus on how hot she was, physically and mentally due to the trap she ensnared him in, but all he could taste was her cinnamon chap stick. He fucking loved cinnamon. His senses were overwhelmed. He could smell her, feel her, and taste her still in his mouth. She made it easy to obey her demands.

"This has nothing to do with love, right?" She said.

"Don't even fuckin’ say that word..."

"Deal. Fuck me...” she said as she took a deep breath. She interjected the command before he could even finish his sentence.

Her skin was soft. All of her. Her tits were like a dream come true. Probably a B, C cup maybe, nowhere near a D cup. Which was great, because there wouldn’t have been any room in there for some chick with giant titties anyway.

It wasn't his style, but she was so fucking hot. He went ahead and played the sensual card anyway. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to devour her in any way possible; there was nothing about her than didn't turn him on. He wished he was back at home and she was part of the satin bed set he bought, he could roll himself up in a big ball of her soft smooth skin and body anytime he pleased.

He ran his hand behind her head, got a handful of hair, and gave her head the nudge it needed to encourage her to look down. He was hard the instant she went for his belt. While he pushed her head against his, she pushed him in. She grabbed a handful of ass and made sure she got every inch out of him. She smirked as she watched him plow into her, which ended up being more than enough to force a little yelp out.

They both knew they had to keep the noise down. It was fun to be wild and free. Avoiding jail time is a treat sometimes. It can bring out the best in a situation. Pissing on authority is the best lube.

He backed out a little; he was so far deep she almost bent his dick a little jamming him in there. If he wasn't paying so much attention to her eyes, he could've sworn he felt his head ricochet off her cervix. No wonder she'd gasped for air. She was pleased at his size. Not too small, not too big. She felt the Goldilocks of dicks…his was just right.

While she watched his manhood do the deed of making her try to remember how to breathe correctly, he watched her eyes.

"Goddamn this chick is so fucking hot. Dave ain’t gonna believe this shit! Fuckin’ unreal! This is fuckin’ sweeeeet!" He was thinking to himself.
Yes, his inner voice sounded like an annoying drunk frat boy. Deal with it.

She looked up, saw him looking at her, and smiled. At that moment she knew he was all hers to do as she pleased with. She was in complete control. Now to test it...

She moved his hand from the back of her head to her throat. It’s hard to say who smiled more, but he was game. He went ahead and put some weight into her throat, and pushed her head firmly against the mirror. It’s a wonder no one came in to break it up. Neither one of them locked the door.

Between her head squeaking on the mirror, his belt falling off the counter making a ton of noise, her knees hitting the walls, her heavy breathing, and the lovely slapping of thigh on thigh that reminds you of flipping pancakes, surely someone was aware of the debauchery going on.

About 10 minutes ago he'd swear this chick had an invisible halo around her head, now he was sure there were some demonic goat horns hiding...possibly a tail too. This would’ve been great to wrap around his forearm like a tug-of-war game and use for leverage. He'll have to keep that in mind when he goes to hell and has to bangs crazy demon chicks to the sounds of Dio.

Epic.

But, back to the temptress at hand. If this was a Godly test of willpower he failed miserably. But he was willing to put money on it not having anything to do with such cosmic nonsense.

The only intergalactic notion he derived from this moment was that it was nothing more than a simple case of destiny, his place in time and space was to be there railing this hot chick on this plane at that precise fucking moment. He's going to do all he can to make the most of it.

He continued to throttle her and slowly tighten his grip around her throat. The more she got into it, the tighter his grip got. She went limp. She succumbed to her body, and yielded control. Control was back in his hands. He wanted to go a little deeper. She was wet, but he wanted more.

He used her throat to pull her back up, and slid as far forward as he could, his toes almost curled up the front of the counter, and his legs rested firmly against the stainless steel counter top. It would've been a cold jolt, but she took care of warming it up for him.

He put his palms on the counter and leaned in, making sure to let a few breathes cross over her ears. Then he snaked his arm around her back and pulled her in, and pushed his way deeper inside. He was animalistic, giving way to desire and instinct. Rationale left his body when he decided to meet this chick in a bathroom on a plane to bang one out, but now he was totally void of any higher thinking.

There was no mind. It was preoccupied processing all the stimulation: the visuals, the taste in his mouth that lingered. It drove him to take another taste. He kissed her and this time she kissed back. No biting...yet. He didn't want to discourage the biting, so rather he encouraged it by biting her lip. She growled a little, and smiled wide, air rushing from her mouth and then back in.

She breathed deep and went back in for some more. He conceded another handful of sloppy passion-filled kisses, and then turned her head aside with his hand and bit deep into her neck as his increased the frequency of his thrusts. She winced and punched his back, then dug in with her nails. He let out a slight growl of anger, and forced his way deeper. He let go of his death grip and rested his head on her chest as he grinded away.

She let her head fall back and rest on the glass. Her face contorted a few times from the pain, but a little pain was pleasure. She made sure to alternate those grimaces with some smiles and grins. He was a little thicker than she anticipated. She was tighter than most women of her hotness level.

Usually women who are attractive like her exploit their hotness, and manage to stay loose for the summer. She was definitely not a whore. She knew how to embrace the moment. Whores have a disconnected demeanor when getting fucked. They've seen it all before. And even the new shit doesn't interest them. They're usually burned out on sex. And the groans and vocal affirmations of a job well-done are as poorly delivered as most porn scripts.

But her voice was wrought with sincerity. She was thoroughly enjoying this, and so was he. He got what he wished for. The deeper he went, the more she gushed. It was to the point where his dick felt like it was underwater gasping for air. She was groomed up top, but she had sideburns down the side of her pussy. The matted hair made his balls feel like they were being slapped against a warm, wet towel.

He wanted badly to bend her over, but wasn't sure the physics of it would work in this "cockpit". She had those indentations in her lower back right above her tight little ass. He caught a brief glimpse of them in the mirror. The little "wings" as he liked to call them were as hot as those grooves that the hip bones would carve into a fit woman's stomach which led straight to the Promised Land. Whenever he sees a woman with prominent hips and those arrows of definition, he wishes he was a little spider in her shower and could jump on and slide down it like a water slide straight to their awaiting crotch.

"Fuck it," he thought, "someone might break up the party soon anyway, might as well get what I want out of it".

"Turn around" he said out loud.

She spun one leg around his head like an Olympic gymnast on the pommel-horse. He took a step back so she could situate their situation. She calmly rested her knee on the counter top and looked back for reassurance.

He grabbed her ass with both hands and moved in like a fiddler crab clutching at a fish carcass. He slammed into her harder than a drunk driver running a red light slams into an 80 year old woman crossing the street with only a walker and one leg.

Her perfect tits came just shy of smearing on the glass like that poor 80 year old woman's bloody face would've smeared on that drunk driver’s windshield.

Steve made sure our co-pilot in the "cockpit" met the same fate. His hand on the back of her shoulder made sure her face was pressed against the glass just the same. Her lips pressed and curled up the glass...he couldn't help but think she has the "Mick Jagger" look going on as he slapped his hips against her ass so hard she almost felt like a hooker getting a beat down from Danny Bonaduce because she argued pricing. You don't arguing pricing with steroids, steroids always wins.

He went to town like Louie Anderson at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

They both froze and held their collective breaths. She turned to face the door, and then her head briefly hit the mirror. He was still grinding away.

She reached back across her body and slapped him in the chest. "Stop!” she shrewdly said through her teeth.

He stopped, he didn't even notice he was still going at it, he too had turned to face the door. Then he raised a finger as if to say "chill, I got this."

"Yeah?" He said rather loudly.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but in case you didn't hear the captain, we're going to get some brief turbulence, but we should be in D.C. In about 45 minutes to an hour as scheduled."

"Ok, thanks."

Silence. No answer...coast was clear?
Fuck it all, back to business.

He looked back at her and smiled, and put his hands back on her hips. He gave her a nice deep wake-up thrust, the kind you give your wife in the morning by burying your raging morning-wood into her ass to wake her up. The kind that says: go make me eggs, woman! He just wanted to make sure she knew the game was back on.

She went right back into position like a well trained Shih Tzu waiting for its bone. This time he sped up the pace. Like a bike-rider trying to catch up to that hot chick on the bike in front of him so he can get a better look at her tight ass being suffocated by spandex.

It was time to end it.

He leaned back a little to make his thrusts longer and faster instead of short and deep. Like switching between a midget to a 7'2" NBA center. She even arched her back a little more and slid down the mirror a few inches. Both her hands raised and pressed on the glass next to her head like a cop was about to go elbow deep in search of some contraband. She felt detached, like she needed some more input into the act. She moved one hand from the glass, down between her legs, and grabbed a handful of nuts. She shuffled his plums like two Chinese medicine balls. She could barely palm them, he had well proportioned balls, she wasn't sure why she was surprised, but she kept kneading his warm leathery pouch anyway.

He almost wanted to grab a tit and squeeze it like a teenager squeezes a zit before prom, but it would make everything look too much like a pretzel. Not enough room in the "cockpit" for creative posturing. He wanted to pull out and spread his warm baby batter all over her tight goddess-like ass, but when he tried to back out, her grip on his balls tightened like a vice and forced him back in. She wanted him to fill her up like an overzealous 18 year old fills a strippers g-string with singles before he's even had a chance to see her sweaty gremlin that's been grinding on a bald guys head for 30 minutes just before he got there.

He was willing to oblige. He grabbed a handful of her long black hair and pulled her head back. Then he put a foot on the toilet to get a better angle for his thrust.

About 5 more minutes of hard, sweaty, thrusting, grunting, and moaning later he was ready to put the stuffing in the turkey. He pulled her back as far as her spine would allow. She had to slide her legs off the counter and stand. He leaned in, put an arm around her hard stomach, grabbed the opposite hip, and put his other arm under hers and grabbed her throat and squeezed. Her other hand pressed against the mirror, her arm extended. She pressed herself against him as hard as she could. His grip on her throat tightened and his faster, deeper breathing let her know it was time. She didn't want to waste a single drop, so she backed on down as far as she could go.

He bit her shoulder and squeezed her hip. A couple good hard thrusts and she could feel his warm gooey man-glaze fill her up. It was quite a load, so much so that she anticipated a hot stream would go running down her leg any second from overflow. A couple harder, deeper thrusts, a few more ounces of hot love-juice, and the deed was done.

He stayed inside her for another couple minutes, giving her a kiss on the neck after resting his head there for a brief moment.

She leaned forward a little as he pulled out. He leaned back against the wall, sighed, and gazed down at his pants, still wrapped around one leg. He slid his back down the wall to the floor to grab his pants. There wasn't enough room to stand and bend over with her there. It was like fucking inside a tuna can. He put his other foot in his trousers and pulled them up with him as he slid back up the wall. He buttoned them as he looked up at her, and zipped his hammer back into its bag. She put a leg up on the counter.

"Lick it up", she said.

He looked at her. She was looking straight into his eyes. She was serious. He looked down at her red, swollen, destroyed snatch. Some of his man-glaze oozed out like an overstuffed Boston Crème. He dropped to a knee, and spread her lips. He honestly didn't want to do this, but something about it was awesome. His mouth went dry, kind of how your mouth can go dry right before you lick an envelope because you know the nasty taste it’s going to leave in your mouth. But, he did it anyway. He was a champ, nothing could deter him. He dove right in. His nose jammed into her ass as he went face first into the unknown. It was like pulling a part a melted grilled cheese sandwich and then sticking your face in it. Warm, wet...salty. His tongue slid up her once elegant, now obliterated pussy and straight up her ass crack, stopping on the way to flick her other brown-eye. Hey, if you're gonna be dirty, be nasty! His tongue was like a spoon and picked up a ton of sweat and juices along the way. No way in hell he was swallowing that. Only one thing to do. He leaned forward and spit into the sink. Then he wiped his beard, and smacked her ass hard enough to make her wince.

Mission accomplished.

He stretched out both arms as if to say: "Next?"

"Good boy, now go back to your seat. I'm done with you." She smiled and turned around to face him. She leaned back against the counter and crossed her legs. God she was hot. He took a moment to gather in the sight as he slipped his shirt back over his head. He didn't bother to tuck it in. She slid her foot under his belt and raised it up off the floor, and put her foot on the wall next to him.

He smiled, laughed, and put it back on like a good boy.

"I'll keep an eye out for you next time I fly LA to DC," she said.

"Oh, of course, 'cause you do this all the time right?" He said.

"Well, no...not all the time."

A wry smirk moved across her face as she turned to grab her dress off the counter and put on her clothes.
Ever the business man, he took a business card out of his wallet and flicked in on the counter next to her.

"Well since you come to DC a lot, hit me up later. I got plenty of free time." He pointed to his hand. "I don't have a ring either" he said.

Just then she pulled a shining diamond ring out of her bra and put it on. She looked up and smiled the evilest of grins.

"I do."
She winked and pulled up her panties under her dress. He shook his head in disbelief.

He laughed, "Un-fuckin-believable. I'm outta here chick."

Then it hit him. She was in complete control the whole time. Not once from eye contact to putting his clothes on did he ever have a clue that this all unfolded exactly as she wanted it to. He was shocked, but thrilled, absolutely amazed at the whole situation.

He exited the restroom. When he opened the door, he turned to give her one last look. After nailing a body like that he felt like a God. He closed the door and almost jumped. The stewardess was standing behind the door. She smiled, looked him up and down, and walked right by him to the beverage cart without a look back. Did she know? She had to know.

His heart was pounding and his adrenaline was surging. How did she not know? Maybe she just thought he was cute? He went with the last option; it’s the only one that gave him peace of mind. He straightened the collar on his shirt and walked back to his seat. He glanced at his watch. He'd been gone for a half-hour...not bad.

Hook, Line, and Sink-Her

2010-04-20T14:43:00.000-07:00

The sun shined through the window with such subtlety, that Theo thought an angel might be visiting him in his dreams, offering revelations and maybe a great cheesecake recipe. But he wasn't dreaming, and there was an angel. He awoke just as Lisa was about to gather her clothes and vanish. He wanted badly to go back to sleep. He was having an awesome dream about being a sorcerer who had to slay a dragon so he could bang the Double-D Princess. But, he knew if he let her walk, his powers over the situation would be gone. His encounter with this demonic harlot who did things to him he swore were only legal on the Internet would disappear faster than a birthday cake for the fat kid in science class. He had to make his move, or lose this bastion of sexual forgery forever to the dark damp abyss of "I want to but I can't right now".

"Forget the world, forget all the stuff outside these walls. And come back to bed."

Lisa's mind wandered the world over to find a reason to leave. But she couldn't. She wanted to be there, more than she can remember wanting to be anywhere else. Even more than she wanted Joey from 8th grade shop class to ask her to prom. He didn't though...he fucked her sister instead.

"I cant, I have to go. I cant do this right now" she whispered.

(I told you so).

"I'd be lying to both of us if i ignored your hesitation, i know this is an odd time and place to be, but listen...I'll make this easy for you. There's nothing out there that can change or enhance you world as you know it...like this" he said. Then he threw back the covers faster than a pissed off redneck throws their baby against the wall in a drunken fit because Mark Waltrip lost the race of who could make 200 left turns the fastest without hitting something.

And there it was. The only thing that had made her religious. She said "Oh God" more times than a priest in court. Her jaw fell so fast gravity suddenly seemed to be so powerful an apple to Newton's head would've cracked his skull and given him turrets if it held the girth of Theo's manhood. She couldn't say no. In fact, she couldn't say anything at all. The cat had her tongue and ran with it. Which is fine, because soon her mouth would no longer be used for talking. Her body had taken over. She took a slow step towards the bed. Then another. She moved so slow you'd swear you were watching a black-and-white zombie movie with Bela Lugosi.

He knew he had her. He cast out his "lure" and she bit, now it was time to fill her mouth with chum. Her face was about to resemble a glazed doughnut so covered in man-glaze that Kirspy Kreme would be envious.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle" he said.

But she didn't want him to. She wanted to rape him. Straight up. Yes, i said it. A woman raping a man is possible contrary to the popular media. But, he would enjoy every minute. Unless of course she says "no" in Spanish, because then you can just say you didn't know what she was saying, you don't speak Spanish.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll let you do whatever you want to my...Leviathan. All I ask is that you don't leave. Not until tomorrow. Take the whole day and just stay here in bed with me and I'll let you take the whole Theo. I'll even help you make the bed afterwards" he said. "What else could you possibly want out of a guy?" he said with a smirk reminiscent of a serial killer looking for a new weapon to use while killing kids near a lake, only to find a really big rusty fucking machete with barbed wire wrapped around it. It was that obvious.

But she didn't want to go easy. She was ready to go all in. And I'm not talking cards.

"Besides" he began to say "I don't know about you, but when i see nice clean sheets like this, i don't feel like I've done my job until they're dirty."

Then she smiled. Her OCD had vanished in her moment of passion. Normally a statement like that would make her OCD go out of control just at the thought of having to clean up. But they were in a hotel, so no need to clean. Then Pepita wouldn't have a job. And the economy is bad enough.

Besides, if cleanliness is next to godliness, then considering what she wanted to do with full reign over his colossal "love magnet", she was about to be as far from God as possible.

"Just make sure you do one thing for me" she said.

"Sure, just ask. What?" he said with a look of concern. He feared she'd ask him to call her after her flight took her back to Dallas. He mentally crossed his fingers.

"Promise to spit in my face and call me a dirty whore when I look back at you." Then she dropped her towel,put on her high heels so she could arch her back better to let in the Leviathan, turned around and grabbed the desk with the mirror. She took a few steps back and bent over. She gazed back over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"Now,come fuck me you pussy."

All Aboard - Chapter 1

2010-04-15T14:46:00.001-07:00

Women are like fine wine: best kept under lock and key in the basement until there’s a party, celebratory function of some kind, or if you need a fix after a hard day’s work. But, since the rest of the world thinks such ideas are “unkind” or “sexist”, I’ll rescind that idea. And instead offer this happy medium; women are fucking soul ninjas that assassinate your heart in the middle of the night and rip out your soul through your asshole and laugh in your face when you wake up upside down with your ass in the air wondering what the hell is going on.
Steve, however, felt differently. His life led him to believe in love and other grandiose ideas. Love. What an odd little thing that is. Love to me is like religion. It’s only useful at two points in your lifetime: when you’re young and need molding or direction, or when you’re old and fear death. Other than that, love and religion need to steer clear of the purposeful life. Otherwise things get too complicated and shit hits the fan harder than a redneck in trailer lot #32 hits his wife because there’s too much salt in his gourmet dinner of ramen noodles and it spoils the awesome taste that normally accompanies his nightly Colt 45 or two. Or three if he’s feeling like he didn’t accomplish enough during the day impregnating his 4th cousin’s sister. Which would still be his cousin; I just wanted it to sound a little less disgusting.

Coming Soon:

2010-04-12T18:05:00.001-07:00

A new scene entitled:

"They Call Me Mr. Right...Now."

And:

"The Garden of Heathen & Heavy Breathin' "

"All Aboard"...the infamous sex scene:

2010-04-12T12:53:00.001-07:00

Steve entered her with a sense of mystique. With a slithering intention only grasped by the serpent in the Garden of Eden. His slow and methodical insertion reeked of something sinister. But of what? Visions of the Trojan Horse danced in her head. Would his unborn children demolish her uterus like the Greeks ravaged Troy?

Then he made his move.

His generously proportioned meat hammer damn near shattered her cervix. Only one man in her life had been able to go that deep, an enigmatic Jacques Cousteau of her sex life. As she though of that man, her late priest Father McBride, Steve pulled out like a warrior removes a sword from his victims chest, and re-entered her again, and again, and again, and again.

Like a sweaty sausage-piston of God, each time he re-entered her, a flash of Father McBride and his "flesh of the host" seared her mind like pan-fried wontons at Mr. Chan's Asian Bistro.

"All Aboard"- A Romance Novel by: The Grundle.

2010-04-12T12:19:00.001-07:00

Scene 1:

Esteban had just finished his last lawn of the day. Fittingly...it was his own. The sun was bright and burned hotter than last summer when the drought hit...or that STD that stripper gave him from Cinco de Mayo. Speaking of, it may be time to take his pill. At any rate, as he released the choke on the mower, the engine died faster than the soul of Japan after Hiroshima. Suddenly he heard a car door slam. He looked to his right to see a man approaching his neighbors door. The man looked odd, and not just because he was white, but because his designer suit was in tethers and the stench of a man who had recently slammed a dozen or so cheap limousine alcohol bottles could even be made out from 20 feet away where Esteban was watching.

"This damn bitch is gonna be the end of me! I swear to God!" said Steve as he knocked rather hard on the front door of the small Spanish villa. It was a quaint little street, and a quaint little house. Too delicate for the ancient neanderthal drubbings of Steve. But he was persistent. As Lisa was about to find out.

"I can't believe she sent back the flowers I had delivered to her office for her birthday!" Steve gazed down to the card that he held in his hand. He read the return message written on it out loud: "'Too Cheesy' my ass!" He knocked harder.

Esteban, or Enrique, or whatever...the Mexican "yard-technician" slowly became alarmed. He knew only Lisa lived there, they had been neighbors for quite some time. He's even mowed her lawn for her when she leaves town on business ventures. She never explained what she did, but he didn't care, she was majestic. He'd never been so fond of such a fair skinned woman before. He figured, maybe she was the exception. He knew deep in his heart of hearts it couldn't be, however. European women can't give birth to 15 children like his Milena back home could. He liked to think that the eternal tan in her skin enabled her to have such a high yield on his offspring. Whatever it was, it worked.

The gringo knocked furiously.

"Goddamn this bitch! She wants romantic, huh? I'll give her romantic...." Steve took a step back, and kicked in the front door of the villa. The door burst open rather easily, Steve took pride in how well he smashed the lock straight through the rotted Chinese woodwork. He almost smiled, if not for his inner chi reminding him to stay focused to the task at hand.

"Mierda!" though Esteban. "This crazy gringo is going to kill someone!" He raced inside to call the police...then stopped. He didn't have his green card.

He placed his worn and tired hands over his head and sighed..."What the fuck do i do, mang??"

To Be Continued....