by Chris Eng, illustration by Cristy C. Road
The ground wobbled as he walked and Chezz was glad Snickers was there to hold him up. In the back of his mind, though, he knew she was as drunk as he was if not moreso, and he wasn’t sure how that was going to work in the long run. Maybe they’d prop each other up. Maybe their mutual drunkenings would cancel each other out. Maybe he wasn’t in a state to be considering things rationally.
But one thing he was sure of was that he’d started the evening in a hoodie and was now in just a t-shirt. It was probably back at the Jett Labs behind the couch, but that was about ten blocks behind him and there was no way he was turning around to get it, even if it was November. He didn’t feel cold anyway, but that was probably due to the case of Extra Old Stock he’d drunk. Snickers had paced him with a case of Kokanee, and the fact she was currently upright, coherent and maybe half-supporting his weight was more than impressive.
He looked over at her. If she’d felt like it, there was no question she could be a Suicide Girl. The requisite tattoos were all in place and she was thick like the most popular burlesque models. On top of that, the push-up bra under her black blouse and red pea coat bolstered a set of tits that would have given Mamie Van Doren pause, and her legs and ass simply. Would. Not. Quit.
Snickers was, in layman’s terms, a bombshell.
Chezz, on the other hand, was a beefy and slightly chubby guy of Mongolian extraction with a shaved head and a clothing collection made up of of too many hardcore shirts and too many pairs of baggy shorts. He was a self-described manslut and while he and Snickers were far from an exclusive item, he suspected she kept coming back because he was good at one thing: fucking. He had little to no work ethic; he was a shitty cook; he didn’t own anything of any real value aside from his record collection and he got way too drunk way too often, but he could get it up pretty much on demand, whatever the circumstances.
Once, after being awake for 72 hours, he’d successfully picked up a girl in a coffee shop and fucked her to three separate orgasms before passing out. He woke up in her bed a full day later. He fucked a girl in the shower once when he was so drunk he would have been considered legally blind, and after it happened, he couldn’t recall enough distinguishing features to remember who she was. That one still nagged at him, if only because the sex was hot and he wanted a sober rematch. Still, because he was utterly committed to playing the field, one kick at the can was all he got with most women. Well, most women outside of Snickers.
Snickers also had a comparably high sex drive and wasn’t interested in seeking out monogamous bliss. Snickers liked fucking. Fucking in beds, in washrooms, in closets, in parks, on rooftops – pretty much anywhere she could get her panties down for an uninterrupted five minutes. She fucked Chezz missionary, doggy, cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, and she seemed pretty happy getting it in the pussy, the mouth and the ass. He heard that she’d even strapped-on a strap-on and gave it to a couple of guys in the ass. He bet she’d liked that too.
In fact, thinking about her sexual appetite and how if he teased her for long enough she’d get so wet the juices would literally start dripping down her legs started to give him wood. He thought about her tits and how she’d actually let him fuck them a couple of times because, even though it didn’t do anything for her, it got him off. Tit-fucking wasn’t usually his thing either, but her tits were incredible. In fact, when you got the push-up bra off her, they basically stayed where they were.
Ugh. His cock was so hard now it was starting to verge on the uncomfortable.
Chezz peered around, trying to figure out where they were. Ah. The side of Chinatown bordering the industrial zone. As a neighbourhood, it was never particularly full of people in the middle of the day, but at three in the morning it was desolate. He and Snickers were, in fact, the only people he’d seen for blocks.
Taking a calculated risk (the risk being whether or not he could remain upright), he moved his left arm from Snicker’s shoulders, down her back, past her ass cheeks and up her skirt. She looked over at him as his middle finger pressed against her silk-covered mound.
“Can’t you wait ‘til you get home?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“You wanna fuck here?”
He worked his finger around her panties and parted the lips of her already damp pussy. “Uh-huh.”
Snickers inhaled sharply as he started to slip his finger into her and nodded toward a thin alley between two brick buildings up the block. “There.” She took his wrist and removed his finger from her, leading him toward the shadows. Stepping out of the light, she lifted her skirt, hooked her panties with her thumbs and dropped them to the ground. As she leaned over a convenient pile of boxes, she stuck her ass out and looked back at him expectantly.
Neither of them needed to say anything. He dropped his shorts to the ground and slowly pushed himself into her. “Make it quick,” she groaned. “Fuck me fast.” He grabbed her hips and she braced herself as he fucked her as hard as she’d asked for. A box tumbled to the alley floor with a bang, and her body slid forward a couple of inches. “WHOA,” she said suddenly struggling to regain her balance. “Maybe right here isn’t the best idea.” She stepped over to the wall, crossing her arms against it and pushing her ass out again. “Okay, try this,” she purred.
Chezz looked over at her, grinned, adjusted his cock and then gave the briefest of glances at the pile. The box on the ground had popped open and its contents had slid out slightly. It was filled with what looked like dozens of albums. He took a step closer and squinted at the inch and a half visible on the top one. Two words were showing: “BUDGIE / SQUAWK”
“No fuckin’ way,” Chezz whispered. He leaned down and sat the box upright, carefully flipping through its contents.
The booze had slowed down Snickers’s brain but not to the point that she couldn’t register that Chezz was not only not fucking her but possibly wouldn’t be fucking her in the immediate future. “What the fuck,” she enunciated as clearly as she could, “are you doing?”
“This is totally amazing,” Chezz said reverently. He picked an album out of the box, flipped it over, and scanned the back.
“Look,” she said, reaching the upper limits of her patience, “get your cock in me now or I’ll come over there, tear it off and we can do this the hard way.”
He glanced over at her, absolutely uncomprehending. Delicately pulling out an album, he displayed it for her. “Bloodrock 2,” he said. “This is the album ‘D.O.A.’ is on.”
“You say that like I know or care what you’re talking about.”
He reached into the box and extracted another, holding it up with even more awe than the previous one. “Diamond Head’s Lightning to the Nations. Their first record!” She looked down at him. He was holding the LP up like some kind of holy relic while kneeling on the ground with his shorts around his ankles and his dick at half-mast. It was ridiculous and gross at the same time.
“Are you gonna finish fucking me?” she asked matter-of-factly. “Or are you just gonna keep rooting around in the trash?”
He flipped one of the other boxes open. It was filled with records too. He quickly surveyed the rest of them, but they were empty or filled with actual junk. “This is the best score I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, setting the two boxes off to the side. “The most amazing ’70s rock collection. I need to get these home.”
Snickers seemed to be gauging if any of her words were registering at all. “C’mon, you wanna stick it in my ass? I’ll let you do it right here. Do it, assfuck me in this dirty alleyway. I’ll even let you cum on my face, ‘cuz I’m a big cum-drinking whore.”
He looked at the boxes and then at her. “Can you carry one of these back to the house? I don’t think I can handle both.”
Snickers stared at him in disbelief, but eventually gave in to the pleading look in his eyes and pulled her skirt down with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll take one. But if you ever mention any of this to anyone else, you’re never sticking it in me again.” Picking her panties off the ground, she shoved them in her pocket.
“Okay,” he said confused as he passed a box to her.
She looked at his cock, still sticking straight out. “Goddammit, dude, pull your pants up.” He did it and hefted the other box as she strode off ahead of him. “And incidentally,” she said without glancing back, “there’s no fuckin’ way you’re cumming on my face tonight.”
“You were gonna let me give you a facial?” he asked quizzically. “Hey, slow down. Oh, y’know what? I saw a copy of Thin Lizzy’s Jailbreak in there somewhere. You’ve heard it, right? It’s the one with ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’. It’s so good! Hey… hey, Snickers, wait up!”