The Golden Arches

      As I approached the McDonald’s Drive-Thru with the usual sexual anxiety, I drooled at the thought of the warm processed foodstuffs gliding down my hot, wet esophagus, and at the thought of the young, handsome, and burly servicemen inside who would soon grant my every desire for a small price. I was a sucker for a man in uniform, or any man, I suppose. I was deeply hungry in many ways today, but mostly in perverse, sexual ways. “Billions and billions served,” it said on the sign. I wanted to be penetrated in billions and billions of different situations. Most of which involve a penis or two making its summer travel destination a spelunking adventure to my mysterious and well-formed vaginal caverns.

I pulled up to the drive-thru speaker in my off-mahogany 1974 Geo. It’s dying, poorly maintained engine vibrates the entire frame violently, causing nonstop sexual stimulation between my legs as I travel the suburbs in a shroud of sexual bliss and disco era nostalgia.

From the Drive-Thru speaker came a young, shrill, teenage man’s voice: “One moment please.” My eyes rolled into the back of my head in intense pleasure at the sound, his vocal vibrations journeyed through my eardrums and across my neural network like horny pilgrims crossing the Ocean to a new world of young hot dicks. 

Oh. How long was “one moment?” I wondered. I felt teased. My already soaked, grey-colored groin area began to grumble impatiently with existential anxiety. How many moments is one? The lady-scientist in me knew that “moment” was not even a proper unit of measurement, so this could go on forever. I remained unfulfilled for what seemed like forever.

“Ok. Sorry about that. What can I get for you today?” the young voice from the speaker finally asked, erotically.

My arm, leg, and pubic hairs shot on end in excitement as if I had walked into a lightning bolt made of fresh, positively charged sky-cum. What can you get for me today? I knew immediately I had been waiting my entire life for a strapping young chap to ask me this, to let me act out my deepest fantasies. What should I do? The obvious choice would be to start masturbating immediately while this moment still existed freshly in my memory with such clarity. I would never get this chance again. I knew not what to do. I began to soil myself gradually.

“Uhh,” I began to mutter, like an in-bred weasel dying of leprosy. Then I remembered I had already written my McDonald’s meal choices on the top of my pale breasts with a black magic marker some weeks earlier because I anticipated that my sexual insatiability would result in an inability to select items from the menu in a timely fashion. I gazed down at them and recalled:

“Ah, it is so. I have chosen hot, golden nuggets. I also choose warm, moist pie. Packaged and prepared by the hands of someone strong and capable,” I asserted.

“Ok you want, 6 piece? Nuggets? And an… apple, pie?” he attempted to confirm, with a mumble through poor stereo quality.

“It would be my utmost and greatest desire.” I said with a whispering and lustful coarseness in my voice like an ovulating Jewish grandmother. I continued:

“And…to wash down this meal, I want only the sweetest liquid a man can give a woman.”

...

“Mountain Dew ok?” asked the voice.

“Yes.”  I replied. The metaphor was obvious to all. For what else on a man would be none other than his firm and bountiful mountain? And from such a mighty mountain what could be none other than the sweetest of sweet dews? I couldn’t wait to swallow every drop. If his mountain was Pompeii, then I was an ancient Roman woman, sluttily waiting for him to explode and encase me in his smoldering death cum.

“That’ll be 6.74, pull up to window 2 please.”

“Thank you for your guidance,” I said softly.

Future Man

                As I stood in the aisle at Future Shop nonchalantly gazing upon the array of incredible products, I felt an overbearing sexually charged presence coming from what seemed like all directions. I began to breathe heavily like a cow with asthma being strangled into sexual submission. I needed to know the source of this warm and erect feeling so I could be lavishly penetrated by it at once.

And then he appeared, from the corner of my eye and the center of my heart and soul. He was equipped with a sharp uniform of blood-crimson knitted for Experts; and a name tag that read: “Salim.” His skin was bright and perfect like an angel made of diamonds and delicious sperm; his powerful aura of wisdom and lust shone like a beacon from a futuristic enlightened society into my soul. His lofty and wise penis would surely be my salvation, my Mystic City on the Hill, a fantastic city to be completely shoveled inside my genital well. I began to experience both motion sickness and morning sickness, for his mere presence was forcefully penetrating my urethral chasm and causing me futuristic pregnancy.

“Where can I get a simple headphone extension cord?” I naïvely blurted out like a commoner. A joke question, really. I could tell Salim already knew every question that could be asked in this life; with his infinite capacity for passion being the answer to all questions. I fantasized about him tying me up with various electronic wires and aggressively rubbing mobile devices all over my body, while regaling me with fantastic tales of electronic products and services beyond my wildest dreams, stories that would cause me to laugh, to cry.

“Aisle 2,” he replied. As he said this I wished to myself that he would enter the aisle between my hips, with his glistening product knowledge-soaked penis and his technical expertise-filled scrotal reservoir. I dreamt of our genius-children to be. 

Salim began to guide me towards our destiny. I followed behind him in sexual-spirit form; an uncontrollable floating magnetism; my legs and body belonged to him and his penis, now and forever.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” he said, erotically. His voice sounded like a sexual symphony composed of every instrument ever created, shooting cool viscous semen covered musical notes into my lustfully agape ear drums, deafening the inside of my skull with goopy white erotic bliss.

He held a simple headphone extension cord in his life-giving palms. I could not respond, for his infinite ability for giving and his gesture toward me caused me to have what I can only describe as a sexual near-death experience where I was clinically dead in a universe where there was nothing but orgasmic pleasure that was both infinite and timeless.

The Mona Lisa

       As I head toward the subway station donned in my black bonnet for young courtesans, I became overwhelmed with a sexual presence so powerful it was almost like wet fearful anticipation was shot out of a bazooka straight into my urogenital diaphragm.

I approached the rotating toll entry zone when behind the glass of the Subway’s toll booth I saw what I can only describe as the most perfectly sculpted human male I had ever laid eyes upon. I could tell he was omniscient and sexually ever-present by the way he vacantly gazed toward a small television onto which he watched the show Friends; his social and sexual importance clearly setting him above the concerns of attending to reality. 

I could tell from his ape-like posture and figure that he was a wild, relentless, sexual beast. He was draped in a sensual maroon colored Government Issue Transit Commission uniform for Handsome Men. I gazed lustfully towards his chest area, revealing a nametag that read “Ted.” For the sake of sanitation it was wise to have such a short name; for if his name had any more than three letters I would have surely had an abrupt and fluidic orgasm upon reading it, making the subway entrance dangerously slippery and inconvenient.

Like the Mona Lisa, he was an object of modern art and perfection, so beautiful and timeless that he needed to be kept behind a sheet of firm transparent glass to prevent weathering and theft. Behind the glass he appeared like a diamond, lost in time now, and forever.

“I would like to purchase a monthly Metro Pass for the month of May,” I said, quivering.

In my head we were already engaged in a modest level of intercourse. My genitals were oscillating like a malfunctioning piston.

He pointed toward the debit card machine. Of course he did not speak, for if even the softest tone were to exit his mouth it would summon all the women of the world to this very location, vaginas in hand and at the ready.  I slowly slid my slender, moist debit card into the warm inviting slit of the debit machine.

“Purchase: 78.99: OK?” asked the debit machine, mockingly. I followed the proper procedure, until:

“Declined.”

My heart and soul sank into an abyss. Clearly it was a mistake. Or was it? Obviously, the debit machine wanted Ted all for itself, and it was attempting to make me appear as though a financially barren whore, in order to win his favor. I knew the day would arise when humans would rival machines for the love of Ted, but I did not realize that the day was today. I could not let Ted find out what had just taken place.

“See you later, Ted,” I said, hopefully not for the last time.

The Siren's Song

      As I basked alone in the stream beneath the clear crystal waterfall in my glistening Siren’s gown designed for young ladies, I admired the sun’s shimmer against the water. The sight filled my brain with sexual thoughts and sexual ideas. At this moment I recalled a prophecy from the Oracle where I would receive a mighty and relentless penis. At this moment I saw Herculo of the Eastern tribe emerging confidently, from a bramble bush, alone.

I had only heard of Herculo by rumor. He was unexplainably magnificent.  His mere presence caused my labia to tingle violently, like a can of Pepsi in a paint shaking machine, ready to rupture at any moment.

To describe his manly beauty was impossible. His hair; so curly and so bright that a mortal hairstylist would die if they tried manage or maintain it.  His physique was so prominent that his body was seemingly alien, his muscles so large, so perfect, it was as if his body was one giant undiscovered late-stage tumor. The sunlight glistened against his figure so sharply that if you stared directly at it you would become blind. I was now permanently blind.

“My dear,” his voice called to me, in my blind darkness.

“I have come for you,” he began, “it is the season of pregnancy and dance, and indeed, I have not come to dance.”

Indeed. It is every Siren’s dream to become impregnated by a True Hero’s heroic and unapologetic penis and sperm filled balls. The very thought of rocketing my evolutionary path in an incredible new direction with his aggressive sperm and our subsequent Hero Child caused me to forget about the clinical depression I had just succumbed to on account of becoming permanently blind.

I could feel him leap into the water and trudge toward me. Waves splashed about, erotically. I could feel his lusting energy shooting toward me. A PET scan of his brain at this very moment would show his brain activity morphed into the shape of an arrow pointed toward my begging vaginal hole. An MRI of my vagina would reveal no useful information.

I was suddenly lifted up by his mighty muscular arms. My Siren’s gown designed for young ladies evaporated as he lifted me off my feet at the speed of light, causing me to hear the sound of his heavy, sweat filled breathing both forwards and backwards at the same time. 

He then slammed my vagina and I down like a modern day wrestler onto his twelve yard-lengthed penis. My blindness makes this a mere estimation, because I felt in my body that his penis could have been infinitely-yarded. His Hero Penis was so large that it penetrated my spirit and soul; giving me infinite orgasms while also changing my religion and beliefs every millisecond.  

The Magnum Opus

       As Lord Magnum entered the Magnum Estate’s West stable where I always tend to his horses, a gust of wind poured through the doorway along with his dark, perfect figure. I wondered: what he could be doing here on this cold, windy night? It was so soon after his designated bathing time. The gust of wind from the opened door and his manly presence caused me to shiver.  The edges of my brown Stable Attendant’s gown frazzled about in the wind, in perfect sync with my frazzled emotional lust for him. It was also at this moment that I had a rather naïve and uncontrollable thought about his lofty and recently cleaned penis entering my vaginal canal. I became excited on an inhuman level.

“Lord Magnum,” I began to say, with apprehension. “What brings you to the stable tonight? Certainly you could have sent a lesser subject to tend to such un-mighty duties,” I said, jokingly. Such things were clear and obvious.

Lord Magnum said nothing and approached me with perfect confidence and posture. Of course he said nothing. He was too attractive for the English language, even a “Hello” from his firm, commanding mouth would have had the power equal to or greater than a mighty mariner’s horn used to announce the second coming of our Lord, it could pierce directly into my heart; shattering it into a million pieces along with my clitoris and vaginal structure, likely causing it to become a misshapen mass of blood, skin, and folds.

Lord Magnum reached into his breast pocket; and pulled out a riding crop. Was it time for riding? I wondered. I began to prepare his favorite horse, Aerosmith, for an evening canter under this assumption.

“No,” he bellowed. His voice echoed like like an angel taking an electric, erotically charged shit in my mouth; with my mouth lustfully agape and ready. It was at this point that I was knocked over into a pile of hay and felt euphoria all over my brittle out of shape peasant body. My insatiability caused me to drool roughly 100ml of water per second like a poorly maintained drain pipe.

Lord Magnum began to gently rub the riding crop slowly up and down my barren leg. The sensation of his riding crop against my leg caused me to momentarily black out into ego-death oblivion, where I traveled through time and space in utter tranquility and finally understood my life’s meaning. 14 billion years passed in a second.

Upon awakening from this state, I had roughly fourteen and a half orgasms at once, causing an immeasurable amount of female ejaculation liquid to rupture from between my legs like a fine mist that would settle on much of the hay and stable floor. The floor became like a birthday cake frosted with lust and baked with passion, and the stable was our oven.

It was at this moment that the horses in the stable began to murmur, for my ecstasy was contagious and crossed the boundaries of species.