We’re Fucked, Pt. 116 (Fiction)

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial

The cluster of faux-fur pillows at the head of mommy’s bed prop up my shoulders and the back of my head. My knees part wide in obedience.

The mattress rustles and dips as Jacqueline climbs on. Her twin miracles of motherly craftsmanship, whose supple curves are wreathed in the lace of a plunging bralette, sway hypnotically. Their pair of pink buds stick out like bullets. Framed by the meshlike lacework of her garter belt and the straps suspending her stockings, her blood-engorged hunk, an iron rod cast in flesh, bobs and bounces like a rabbit on springs, aching to bury itself hilt-deep inside my womanhood.

My beloved settles herself between my legs, overlooking me. The candles illuminate her from below: their honeyed glows are dancing on her voluptuous, sweat-sheened form, and casting a looming silhouette onto the ceiling. As she gazes down lustfully upon her bounty, she bites her plump lower lip, then slips her right hand under the left cup of her bralette to cradle that breast, whose smooth mound spills over her palm, and dimples with indentations of her fingers while she caresses, kneads, and squeezes.

Jacqueline slips her right hand out of the bralette, and as she lets herself fall forward, she plants both hands on either side of my abdomen. She nips at my navel. She sticks her tongue out and trails a hot and wet path towards my chest as she prowls up, as her raven-black tresses brush against my skin like fingertips. Her tongue flicks my left nipple; the sensation sends a ripple of electricity through my spine, that arches my back and draws a gasp from my lips. When Jacqueline is about to reach my neck, the satiny touch of her stockings glides over the underside of my thighs. They get parted further.

Aching to fondle her warm flesh, I reach for her shoulders, but she grabs my wrists and drags them towards the headboard, resting my arms on the pile of pillows. I have become a shackled maiden, the vestal sacrifice in a primitive rite. Mommy can adjust the size of her muscles at will, so I would waste my energies if I struggled against her grasp. Besides, why would I resist? I need her to fuck me until the relentless buzzing in my brain ceases. At least for a moment, I need a respite from the agony of the outside world. Please inject a dose of heroin straight into my pussy.

Jacqueline bears her weight down on me, mashing our breasts together, pinning me to the mattress. Her stiff buds sink into my tit-meat through the lacework of her bralette. Her bountiful bosom, her abdomen, her hips, they mold around my thinner frame, and their radiator-like warmth seeps into my organs as if we were merging into a singularity of flesh. Squashed between our bellies, her cock throbs with solid heat.

As she lowers her head, her hair curtains my features, cocooning us from the candlelight and creating a pocket of gloom between our faces. Her warm, moist breath fans over my lips. I gaze into her dilated pupils encircled by cobalt blue, a color that has haunted me since our eyes first met and in their depths I recognized my reflection: that of a scared, lonely, and dejected creature.

Jacqueline rubs her nose against mine.

“In the office,” she whispers, her voice thick and husky, “whenever anyone approached you, you would grow tense and uneasy. It made me think, ‘Here is a woman who has never been loved like she should.’ You didn’t know how it felt to be cherished, how it felt to trust anybody in this world, even yourself. Born to be put aside as an afterthought; was it like that, mon bébé? I pictured myself carrying you to bed, warming you in my arms, and filling you up with love from within. Now, aren’t you glad that we belong to each other?”

As Jacqueline’s words reverberate in my gut, my chest constricts. If I fail to restrain the rising tide, my chin will tremble, and tears will roll down my temples. I open my mouth to squeak out that it’s true, that I’ve always been a pariah, a freak, a stain on the fabric of humanity. But my throat clamps shut.

Jacqueline shushes me gently.

“Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon coeur. It’s okay. The world can be cruel, but here you are safe with me.”

She backs up on her knees and elbows, pulling my pinned arms towards the top of my head, to position her pelvis between my legs, angle her hips, and aim the tip of her cock at my opening. I hold my breath. When her glans nudges my clit, a jolt of electric ecstasy shoots through my core. Jacqueline rubs her scalding, throbbing column of meat up and down the slick divide, lubricating her cock with my juices, making me wetter than a tropical rainforest: fluid seeps out of my depths as if a plug had been pulled.

The breath from her panting mouth mingles with mine. In obeisance to the flesh-staff of a goddess, I’m aching for mommy to spear my personal sanctum, that awaits her plunder and pillage.

The bulbous crown presses against my folds, parting them. It sinks in with a shock of wet, hot friction that causes me to spasm and the air to escape my lungs. She burrows deeper and deeper into the sheath of my vagina, stretching and straining its elastic walls, carving the contours of her cock along the undulations of my inner flesh. Over my blurring and fraying thoughts, Jacqueline’s sultry voice pours into my ears.

“Oh, how I wish that everything were built as pleasantly as the insides of your pussy.”

With a steady pressure, her glans forces my cervix open until she plunges into the empty, spongy space of my womb. I let out a squeal. Jacqueline releases my left wrist, and her hand sweeps down in a swift arc to cover my mouth, silencing me.

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispers, “but we can’t be as loud as we want.”

She frees my mouth only to seal it with her full lips. Her tongue snakes in to twine and dance with mine. Electricity flows through our joined organs while her saliva streams down my throat. Her throbbing cock is buried to the root, her ballsack nestled against my buttocks.

My heated blood roars like a raging river as it rushes down toward my groin. I’m burning up, cooked from within.

Jacqueline’s breasts heave as her pelvis jackhammers at me and her cock pistons in and out of my pussy with squelching slurps, in forceful, stabbing thrusts that pound and pound and pound through my flesh, crushing things unnameable deep inside. Her ballsack, heavy with a seething brew, is smacking against my tailbone with meaty claps that echo in the bedroom. Clinging to her like a tree to the earth, I have wrapped my arms around her torso, and I feel her ribs expand and contract with every breath, and also the flexing and tensing of her muscles as she rocks her hips forward and back, forward and back, but I wish that I could reach lower and sink my bitten fingernails into her ass cheeks, ripping open furrows. Out would gush a spray of rainbow-colored butterflies.

She props herself on her sweat-slicked arms, that gleam in the candlelight like wet, polished stone. Her straining muscles bunch up in knots. As mommy’s form hovers over mine, casting me in the shadow of her majesty, drops of sweat fall from her skin and splatter onto my face and chest; the heat and dampness of those warm, salty beads seep through my pores like the sun’s rays on a beach towel. Jacqueline has turned her body into a war machine, a juggernaut of raw, pumping energy, with every joint and sinew attuned to the rhythmic slamming and splitting of vaginal tissue.

Under my head and shoulders, the cluster of fuzzy pillows keeps shifting. The bed frame creaks and shudders amidst the squelching of sodden flesh and the smack of balls. My face is wet with sweat and saliva, my tongue tingles from the vigorous massages. The friction of her cockhead and shaft against my inner walls has worn their membranes into ribbons that spill out of my depths in red-tinged strands.

I’m adrift upon a haze of lust. The candlelit bedroom, its walls painted with undulating shadows, blurs into a wash of dim orange as my head lolls about feverishly. I breathe in the sweet, earthy tang of mommy’s sweat, and the pheromones seeping out of her pores like honey from a comb. I’m headed into a whirlpool of ecstasy that threatens to pull me under. Fuck me and fuck me and fuck me to oblivion and beyond, until my last heartbeat gets squeezed out, until I’m sucked out of this world and hurled into the infinite blackness.

Jacqueline’s tresses, the feathers of a raven, fan out across my shoulders as she nestles her face in my neck. She presses her cushiony lips against my throat and plants a lingering, suctioning smooch, rolling her tongue over my jugular. My nerve endings spark and pop. With my head turned to the nightstand, I let out a shuddering sigh that extinguishes that candle: its flame winks out, a puff of smoke rises from the wick, and an acrid, sooty aroma drifts through the honey-colored gloom.

She nibbles at my neck, digging into the yielding skin and sinew with a gentle pressure that stings like the prick of thorns. Yes, carve bloody, flowery poetry into my flesh with your teeth; pain is a shard of glass that grinds against my tongue so I can taste life. Sink your incisors deeper and deeper, my goddess, until they puncture through, then tear off a chunk of my tissue. Out of my ruptured carotid will spurt liters of crimson love, hot blood that will pulsate and burble and flow down our throats. In the last seconds before my body starts cooling, as I gaze into your cobalt-blues that brim with the radiance of stars, I will gurgle my final ‘I love you.’ I’m ready to be reborn. Gorge yourself on my meat, scrape my bones clean, so my substance nourishes and melds with yours, becoming one flesh in the darkness. Then scatter my pulpy remains over the faux-fur pillows like a sacrifice at an altar.

With her iron truncheon lodged in the pulsing grip of my vagina, Jacqueline’s thrusting grows erratic and savage. Her face is hovering so close that I could count every strand of eyelash. Those irises have broken down into intricate hues: apart from the dominant cobalt blue, streaks of cerulean blue radiating from the pupil; flecks of indigo near the halo that encircles the black center; a navy blue rim that frames the iris. Both eyeballs are coated with a film of tears that reflects the candlelight in shimmers of yellow and gold.

Her shaft is swelling and throbbing like a dam struggling to contain an overflowing lake. Her gaze grows hazy, her cheeks blush scarlet, her breath comes in panting bursts: Jacqueline is ready to explode like a firework on New Year’s Eve.

I hook my ankles around her lower back.

Jacqueline’s pupils constrict as her gaze snaps into focus, locked with mine. The watery film on her right eyeball beads into a crystalline tear and drips onto my left cornea, blurring my vision.

A thunderclap rumbles through Jacqueline’s core, shaking her tits, making her knees tremble. Her thighs and abs clench, her pelvis jerks and bucks. Here it comes: a frothy white tsunami that will devastate a distant shore. A massive backdraft that will burn me and this apartment building with white-hot flames. A galaxy-wide stream of plasma unleashed from a crack in space-time.

She’s blasting and blasting me with jets boiling with microscopic life, that slop around my inner walls and flood my womb, inflating it with the pressure of a balloon. My abdomen bulges, my internal organs shift. A surge of shuddering, twitching, and spasming has made me go cross-eyed. I’m getting sucked deeper and deeper into a vortex of bliss, beyond reason, beyond myself, toward a light too bright to behold or understand.

Where am I? What happened? What is this serene calm? I feel like honey melting in a scorching summer noon. Gone are the spiders scuttling through my nervous system, gone are the monkeys pushing and pulling random levers in the projectionist booth of my mind-theater. The demons are snoring on their cots like babies, their claws folded over their eyes. Is this what normalcy feels like? Is this why those idiots whose smiles come easy enjoy being alive?

As I raise my eyelids, I find myself in a bedroom bathed in flickering candlelight, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the office. I’m lying supine on moist bedclothes, with a cluster of fluffy pillows cushioning my head and shoulders. I smell a mix of hair shampoo, shower gel, woodsy candle scents, sweat, and the musky tang of coitus. The hot, meaty bulk that weighed me down gets lifted: Jacqueline has pushed herself upright to sit back on her heels. With a slurp, she yanks out of me her glistening, blood-caked dick, whose cockhead squirts a few leftover droplets of cream onto my pubes.

She bends down to scoop up some of the discharge dribbling out of my stretched-out vagina, then she shows me those fingers coated in a pearlescent swirl of cum and blood.

“Mon bébé,” Jacqueline purrs in a throaty voice, “you know I went through the trouble of having my sperm tested at a lab? Turns out that this magical plumbing works. Isn’t it a miracle?”

My groin thrums and shivers with the ghost of mommy’s manhood, and a trail of her semen is trickling down the crack of my ass. I have become raw and tender as an inflamed wound: every whisper of emotion overwhelms me, swelling like a tide from all directions.

As I gaze upon Jacqueline, whose face is flushed with a rosy afterglow, her features blur like viewed through a waterlogged mirror. A burning ache creeps up my throat, accompanied by a throbbing in my heart. Before I think of blinking away the moisture, thick tears are rolling down my temples and soaking the hair around my ears.

“Jacqueline,” I say, even though I knew I would never speak again, “if the universe ends, you and Nairu will die.”

Jacqueline takes a deep breath, then scoots closer and lays herself beside me, resting her head on the crook of her elbow. She drapes her other arm around my midsection and pulls me close so that her lace-adorned breasts smush against my side. Our sweat-slickened skins fuse.

“Oh, ma petite chouette, fucked back to basic truths.”

Author’s note: today’s songs are “Fineshrine” by Purity Ring, “I Bet on Losing Dogs” by Mitski, “Have One on Me” by Joanna Newsom, and “Atlantis” by Donovan.

I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout the novel so far. A total of a hundred and eighty-eight videos. Check them out.

Did ya know that I spend hours after each chapter to produce an audio version of it? Well, I do.