Fiction: The $2,000 Payday by Guy Hogan

Posted on January 9, 2012 by pittsburghflashfictiongazette
Sony DCR PC100E Video Camera

Image by zcreem via Flickr

The video begins.  An attractive young woman in a black dress and black, strappy heels sits back against a row of snow-white, fluffy pillows on a large bed covered with snow-white sheets.  There are paintings of beautiful landscapes in frames on the wall above the headboard of the bed.  The young woman smiles and has a look of expectancy and excitement on her face.

“Alright,” a male voice says.  “You’re a sophomore at a local college which will remain nameless.”  The video shakes a little.  It is obvious that the male speaking is using a hand-held video camera.  “Can we say the college is not for dummies?”

“No,” she says.  “It’s not for dummies.”

“What did we agree to call you?”

“Bella.”

“Bella.  I like that.  It’s not your real name.”

“No.”

“Bella, have you ever had sex with ten men at the same time?”

“I’ve only had one real boyfriend and we broke up.”

“You are about to service ten cocks.”

Bella looks around the room and does a quick count of the naked men who are off camera.  Many of the naked men are playing with themselves and several already have serious erections.  A couple of the men seem to be in their 20s but most seem to be in their 30s and 40s and one appears to be in his 50s.  Bella laughs.

“Now, Bella, this is your third video for me, your first gangbang.  These are my friends.  They help me out in the gangbangs.  We’re all nice guys.  We’re not here to hurt you.  We’re here to show you a good time.  Are you nervous?”

“This is really exciting.”

“In our very first emails you said you liked life experiences.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I think you will remember this one.  Alright, fellas.  I see one hot nineteen-year-old woman who wants to make your acquaintance.  Let’s get started.”

By the eleven-minute mark of the video, Bella is naked, except for her shoes, on her back, her head turned to her left as she sucks on a swollen penis, her eyes closed, her right hand stroking another swollen penis as one of the men keeps plunging his swollen penis in her vagina, the lips of her vulva prominent, her pubic hairs shaved.  Every once in a while the flash of a camera goes off.

Hands tenderly, almost lovingly move over her white skin.  The men talk and joke among themselves.  Sometimes Bella stops sucking to laugh, too.  The jokes are never derogatory to her.  The men constantly complement what she is doing, how sweet she is and how hot she is.  Bella even joins in the banter and the men laugh appreciatively at her jokes.  But she has little time for jokes.  The atmosphere is very relaxed.  The men urge each other on and they urge Bella on.  

“Share the mouth, honey,” the videoman says.  Bella turns her head to her right and sucks on that penis.  “That’s a good girl.”

“Look how pretty her skin is.”

“This pussy is so tight.”

“She is definitely marriage material.”

Bella’s breathing becomes more and more labored.  Low grunts begin to escape from her.  Now and then she has to stop sucking to catch her breath.  Bella is once again sucking on the swollen penis on her left.

The man on Bella’s right asks, “Does she like cum?”

The videoman says, “She loves it.”

The man on her right is stroking his swollen penis.  “Bella,” he says, “I have a load for you.”

Bella stops sucking the man on her left.  Opens her eyes, turns her head to the right, opens her mouth and the man ejaculates in her mouth.  She turns to the camera, her mouth open to reveal the cum inside and then she swallows it down.

In the space of two minutes she swallows four more mouthfuls of cum.

All this time the man between her wide open legs has been plunging his swollen penis deep in her vagina, her body in constant motion from his repeated thrusts.  Now he also uses his left thumb to massage her clitoris.

Bella’s grunts have become louder and closer together.  Now she ignores the swollen penises around her face.  She raises her head to look down between her legs.  She holds two fistfuls of the white sheets.  She closes her eyes.  Her face contorts.

“Oh, shit,” she says.  “Oh, shit.  Oh, shit.  Oh, fuck.  Oh, fuck.  Oh, fuck.”

The men urge her on.  “Bella, go for it…The camera loves a cumming girl…Make her cum…Make her moan.”  The camera flashes are now constant.

Between grunts and moans Bella gives one last, “Oh, fuck.”  Her body tenses forward.  The room is strangely silent, except for the clicking camera flashes going off, as the men watch her.  And the video camera distinctly catches the subtle trembling of her breasts.  One second.  Two seconds.  Three seconds.  Four seconds.  Five seconds.

Bella catches her breath and collapses back against the white sheets.  The action continues for forty more minutes.  Sometimes Bella is on her back and sometimes she’s on her hands and knees; but there is nearly always a swollen penis working her mouth and one working her vagina at the same time.  When the men have orgasms they ejaculate in her mouth.  Stray cum streaks her face.  During the video Bella swallows 15 loads of cum.

*****

At the end of the video Bella has showered, changed clothes and now sits in the office with the man who shot the video.

The man says, “Okay, I’m filming the interview.  That’s why these cameras are set up.  So, what did you think?”

“I loved, loved, loved it.  I’m a happy girl.  I’m exhausted.”

“You really earned your money.”

“I think I did.”

“I’m not blowing smoke up your dress.  This is one of the hottest videos I’ve shot in over 10 years.”

“Why thank you so much.”

“How many orgasms did you have?”

“How many?  Around five or six.  I stopped counting after three.”

“What would you do if your parents or friends found one of the videos you’ve done for me?”

“I don’t know.  Deny it’s me.”

“Well, you’ve done three videos for me.”

“I know.  I’m not an amateur anymore.  I guess this is the end of my career.”

“Everyone in the business is not as nice as I am.”

“I know.”

“Or have nice friends like I do.”

“I know.”

“I have some papers for you to sign.  You’ll be on your way in ten minutes.  Finish your education.  That’s the best thing for you to do.  Say goodbye to our viewing audience.”

Bella looks into one of the cameras, wiggles the fingers of her right hand and then blows the audience a kiss.

The End

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The Mayday Malone Principle by Matthew Vento

Posted on October 15, 2011 by pittsburghflashfictiongazette
Sam Malone

Image via Wikipedia

One may ask what the “Mayday Malone Principle” is? Sam Malone was a bartender on the NBC hit series Cheers back in the 80s and early 90s. “Mayday” was the nickname given to him in his so-called Major League Baseball playing days. “Mayday” was a smooth ladies man who never seemed to be short on dates. Beautiful and the not so beautiful would flock to him. Was it because of his so-called career in baseball or was it because he owned a bar?
 
Bar owners have a certain mystique that surrounds them. Most everyone who comes into a bar judges the place and critiques the owner. Why does he sell these drafts? Who picked the color scheme? Why did he lay out the bar in this fashion?  Etc…Women tend to be a bit more judgmental than men. Why, I have no idea why but when I go to bars I analyze the layout and theme myself. I  guess it’s human nature to do so.
 
Back to the “Mayday Malone Principle”.  For some strange reason there is a certain type of woman who finds bar owners very intriguing. These women come in all shapes and sizes both young and old and also from all classes of society. The women know what they want and go out of their way to flirt and pursue bar owners. Whether the owner is married or single, the women have one thing in mind. How am I going to get the owner in bed? The lengths that some of these women would go to are incredible. They range from bringing home cooked meals to actually flashing owners and groping them.  Personal experiences with me are and were women walking into the men’s room while I was going to the bathroom, wandering into my office in the basement, walking into my kitchen flashing me and the ever so clever just grabbing my crotch and telling me at the bar that they would like to screw my brains out. 
 
 All encounters start with harmless flirtation on both the owner’s and customer’s part. More often than not it leads to a sexual encounter. It’s scary for an ordinary looking guy such as myself having this occur to me. At first it was a little scary and then it became common place and now it’s a pain-in-the-ass. In the first year of owning my little dive bar I went through over 40 women.  A lot of them knew each other, a lot of them were friends. I found out that they would talk to each other about their encounters with me. The more I tried to end the “Mayday Malone Principle” the harder the women tried.  I found out that not paying attention to them fueled the fire inside of them more and more. The more I resisted the crazier they got. My second year I slept with over 60 women. I could have slept with a bunch more but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was tired of living this lifestyle, the thrill wasn’t worth the new-found headaches that it caused. It’s also not good for business, lesson learned.
 
With the Old Soldier’s permission, I shall submit one new encounter every month starting with the soon to be written “Stripper’s, Booze and Tap Handles” a dive bar owner’s tale……..
 
*****
 
The author is a shot and beer small Tavern owner. He has been in business for over 14 years at the same location. He is middle-aged but lives life like a 22-year-old. 

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Fiction: Strain Free by Robin Billings

Posted on October 2, 2011 by pittsburghflashfictiongazette
Alexandria's waterfront, seen from the Potomac...

Image via Wikipedia

Early in summer, when it was warm enough I didn’t need a jacket at night, this girl I usually traveled around the bars with on Saturdays didn’t come for me. She had a date. So I drove to this place farther down the main road than the one we usually went to, this new three-story bar with a roof garden.    

It was no good walking down that far in the dark that late, not even on the main road. It was a weird neighborhood like that, friendly enough in the daytime, but after dark, the nicey- nice covers came off, and being out alone after dark, you were asking for trouble. 

I talked to a couple of bikers on barstools I saw just about every week, whatever bar I ended up in, and I had a beer with them in the acoustic guitar room. Then I walked into the room in the back with these big black box speakers spanking out sound, and I talked to a few people standing around, and I kept on drinking. 

After a while, I was feeling like I’d been planted there for days waiting for somebody to find me, and finally, somebody did. I didn’t know his name. He said it to me there in the dark with the cacophonous whirling busy busy talk talk bar sounds all around us, but I didn’t hear it, and I didn’t ask him to repeat his name, please. 

And then he was driving my car in the dark and then we were on his bed in the fierce and immediate quickened way you can only feel when you have been transported, when you are so drunk so very drunk that time skips unimportant daze beats, and we were stripped warm naked and we were on his narrow line of a bed with the streetlight pouring in on us through his yellow blind. 

I started down his front, where the trough line lived at the line of the bones of his collar, and I started with my tongue and my fingers and I felt all the hollows and the curves of his skin and his hard bones down beneath them. 

He shivered when I did things to him. I liked feeling that shiver run down through him and on into me. 

The dark hairs started down near his belly. They were soft and easy to suck. I felt his hands move from my shoulders to the back of my head and they were holding onto my hair and they were grabbing for my hair and feeling for a thickness to hold onto as I went down the hairline on his belly. His legs moved in a soft convulsion, waiting for the feeling of my wet mouth to find him. So I found his legs and I fondled the inside of his thighs with my warm wetness and he opened up, he opened up for me and I moved up and found him there in the center of his body and he was ready for me to find him. 

He tried and strained to move from his side onto his back but I held him fast there so he could suffer a strong pulse of need for a while longer and make it stronger for us when it came. I loved him right then. 

After, I stayed with him through the night. The way he held onto me, the way he stroked the hair on the back of my head, with a soft stroke down, over and over, taking his fingers away at the tips of my hair, pulling his hand away, and starting again, and cupping the back of my head with his hand after, it seemed to me he thought I’d maybe stay longer. 

In the morning I climbed out of bed early and pulled on my jeans and my T-shirt. He watched me from his skinny bed. 

I whispered to him that I needed to go home for a while. He smiled and said he’d see me later, but I forgot to pay attention to the street sign when I drove away, and I didn’t know his name. 

The End

*****

Robin Billings lives in Alexandria, Virginia, works for a large association across the Potomac in Washington, DC, and is working through edits on her first novel.

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