v
A BOOK OF SLAUGHTER
The bullfighter must have Fred Astaire elegance or he is a dead
stump in the centre of an ashtray. Black plasma sirens spilling
brains all over the bullring. Rainbow dance of swords in the heat
haze.
She had stripped him of his belongings now she would strip him of
his clothes and admire his perfect body. His muscles had the look
of surgical enhancement, such was their cut. Under the flesh was
a rollcage of granite. Royal honey ran in his veins, a high
viscous tumult when his heart was pounding against your ear that
way. The slightly hairy navel tasting of caramel. Brainstorm for
the next fuck festival.
Here once again master of his home soil, he loud-speakered his
performance and the fundamentals of his technique and any new
tricks he was gonna try today. The full transcription broadcast
to the ocean of adoring fans camped outside La Bastille in the
baking heat.
In total contrast to the rugged flesh of his sportsman’s
body, his enormous erection was covered in skin that was ultra-smooth.
How lips velveted across its surface. He had a 3ft long siphon
for soda cock, black flesh like a drainage duct. Thick leather
casing like a passion fruit. Cantilevered at the coccyx.
She had evolved, in the time it took to strip him to his loins
and almost explode with lust, disjointed snake jaws especially
for the girth of his bull cock, the transformation brought on by
sheer fear size then teeth to head edge. It tasted of nothing but
it had texture like any uncooked meat. The gut ripped aroma
rising from his hairy scrotum.
Her teeth made contact with his shaft just the farside of cock
head and kept on going. The couple were in a sixty nine of ballet
swoon at the time he held her aloft, his arms round her waist,
her white breasts on his belly. And he wasn’t bad at all, in
fact little bullboy was a consummate autodidact in the language
of cunnilingus. Right on the line every time like a grass cut
ponying her backbone to break with each boiling hot lick of pie.
She just took a bite, both her fists around his shaft. One slow
bite that took about 60 percent of the head off. Chewing with her
molars got the rest off and it, a man’s pulsating cock, was
finally fully in her mouth; after all this time. The sensation
was very much as she imagined her first sheep’s eye ball
would be. She let her fist relax and gallon upon gallon of his
blood marbled semen shot up her nose such that she was tripping
on his very life force, his sperms penetrated her sinus lining.
Brain fuck of the highest order.
The shattering broom and the spark shattered death scream of
eternity.
She can’t recall what he was finally doing but it felt like
he was repeatedly punching her in the vagina. He even head butted
her there one time. They came crashing to the floor but she didn’t
let go. He tasted real good with his Ezbahhanna fist up her arse
trying to throttle her from inside. Get any purchase. A sickening
thought, but without her glasses on she truly experienced a
blinding orgasm as he slipped away beneath her.
Finally, she let him go.
She was hack sawing his enormous penis off as the hordes of
adoring fans stormed the Bastille. She spent her last living
minutes batting them off with the black bludgeon until they
overwhelmed her with their frenzied number. Kicking and screaming
she was thrown from the window and torn apart by the baying crowd
below.
In the shadows, one woman steals off with his cock, a twitching
frog leg in an autumnal electric storm of pleasure. And to this
day, the quadrilles in every bullring, go around the ring
bareheaded in his memory.
*****
FIN
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