"How did I meet your mother?" Dillon asked.

"Yeah Dad, tell us!"

"Yeah, tell us Dad!"

He chuckled, feigning reluctance and then slapped his hand on the table and drained his beer with the other, "All-right. Sit down you two, I'll tell you".

The little boy eagerly pulled a kitchen chair out from the table and jumped up onto it, smiling at his sister in anticipation as she slid up onto hers. The father watched them, his skinless son's red muscles and yellow bones and blue veins glistening and pumping under the fluorescent kitchen light; his bare teeth as white as his big rolling eyes. His daughter's boneless folding flaps of skin reaching up from the ground grasping at the table and chair, moving up it like some beige, haired octopus.

"Well, it's not much of a story really," he smiled, feeling embarrassed and tilted his head back, remembering:

He had first seen her at the beach on a bright, hot day. Back in the days when he had just started working for the government. An easy, well-paid office job. His friends where with him, drinking and smoking. A perfect Saturday and not a care in the world.

He watched her. Her bright yellow bikini glowing in the sun, stretched tight around the bulging bags of fat that were her ass and tits. Swimming with her friends, hollering and squealing to each other; showing off to their mostly imagined audience up on the searing white sand. She and her friends would inhale deeply, blowing themselves up so that they looked liked limbed footballs floating on the water and then suddenly and quickly exhaling as oncoming waves rolled over them, disappearing under the bubbling foam like drowned plastic bags. He eagerly scanned the crystal water, searching for any spark of yellow bikini, watching as each of the floppy bags of skin stretched their heads and lips up out of the water, sucking for air; blowing themselves up again, floating to the surface and laughing as they were slowly sucked towards the next breaking wave. He smiled and tried to imagine how it would feel to have no muscles or bones.

"Look at those hot sluts Dill!" said Rollins, rising upward from the ground and digging his beer can between his crossing legs, looking eagerly; his eyes darting quickly behind flat mirrored sunglasses.

"Yeah tell me about it, man. I see them. The one in the yellow is so hot. I'll split her in two," Dillon blurted, staring dreamily at the girl in yellow. He didn't know why, but Rollins always brought the male chauvinist out in him.

"Ha! You couldn't even split a midget in two, ya little bastard! I'll give her some of this!" Rollins pumped his bicep in front of Dillon's face. The big crimson muscle dried from the burning sun, small cracks and clear scales appearing over it.

"Whatever, dick head," Dillon laughed, reaching for the cooler and splashing a handful of cold water over his own dried shoulders and looking back to find the girls; finding them gone. A small smack of panic hit him as he rolled his big round eyes along the shore, searching. His jaw muscles slackening, long yellowed teeth parting slightly; eyes sifting through the countless red and beige figures burning dark holes in the bright white sand.

Finally he spotted them and he relaxed.

He could see the girls, all of them sliding and creeping up along the shore towards the spot where they had kept their towels and clothes.

"Whatever," he repeated, looking back at Rollins and pointing to his bare intestines, "she'd probably crush you like a turd in your guts and then **** you out."

Rollins laughed and pushed his friend; "I'll **** you out, bastard!"

Dillon landing on his elbow in the sand; smiled back, drained his beer and changed the subject: "So how's work going?"

"Where are you going?" Rollins asked.

"You guys want anything? I'm hungry," Dillon said.

"You're hungry for some **** in the men's room," Rollins was in a cheerful mood, getting drunk. The other guys laughed.

" **** you," said Dillon, kicking a shower of sand over Rollins and knowing immediately that it was a bad idea. Rollins jumped up and Dillon chuckled as he made a feeble attempt at running away and stopping suddenly, realizing that it would be much easier and less embarrassing to accept his punishment now rather than being chased all over the beach in front of everybody. Rollins lunged forward and tripped his friend, pushing his face in to the sand.

"You're hungry, eh? Eat some sand then! Ha ha!"

Dillon got up from the ground as Rollins sat back down laughing, and brushed himself off; spat and picked grains of sand from his bare teeth and tried to brush it from his eyeballs, each darting movement causing a million pin pricks to stab his sockets.

"*******," he murmured as he shuffled up the beach with his head down, feeling people watch him.

The open-air showers were all occupied. Dillon stood waiting in the sun looking at the surf, his face and body coated with sand and making him look like a tall, dry, rack of salted beef. He turned around and his eyes bugged as he suddenly caught eyes with the girl in the yellow bikini, she was washing herself under the shower straight in front of him. He hadn't even noticed her in the angry dazed walk to the showers.

She smiled, and so did he, sheepishly. He watched her as she turned her back to him and stretched herself upward towards the spout. The water running down her dark hair and pooling in the thick folds of beautiful dark skin at her base; body moving and coiling like an exotic, dangerous snake; breathing like a lung. An arm stretched out slowly, its fingers twisted around the faucet.

"So your friend seems like a real jerk," she said. Her towel wrapped around her neck and hung over her tall, stretched body. Her smooth legs creeping beneath her like tank tracks as she slid alongside him.

"He is," Dillon replied, "that's him over there."

Rollins was shouting and laughing on the shore as he threw ice cubes at two geeky-looking teenagers that where swimming in shallow water,. One of the boys was smiling awkwardly and making lame attempts at throwing shells back, being careful not to throw so hard as to actually hit Rollins. The other kid was moving towards deeper water with a worried expression on his face, looking around and pretending nothing was happening. Dillon was glad he was neither of them.

The girl laughed, "Wow, he's big."

"Yeah... He's the kind of guy you hate to have around. But you're always glad he is when something happens," which was true in a sense, but Dillon knew that most of the trouble that they got into was usually due to Rollins anyhow.

"What kind of stuff?" she asked, intrigued.

"Um," Dillon squinted his cheek muscles as he looked off in to space, trying to look intriguing, "never mind".

"Nooo, tell me!" she laughed and stretched her eyeless, boneless, face in to his field of vision, looking like a beautiful and happy version of ‘The scream'.

He laughed back, "Maybe later. Hey do you want anything?"

They had arrived at the canteen. A short line up with kids squealing and chasing each other around the legs of fat parents. They talked as they waited and he learned that her name was Monica.

Dillon handed Monica her Coke and they sat down on a peeling green bench overlooking the beach. The wind was picking up and playing with Monica's drying hair. She brushed a thick damp strand behind her ear and asked, "so what are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing really, we'll probably go out," he replied, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at her over his shoulder, his hotdog hanging in both hands and afraid to eat it in front of her.

"Where?"

"Probably just The Net, do you go there?"

"Ew, no way. That place is gross."

He laughed, "I know. What about you?"

"What am I doing? We're going to a party at my friend Shelly's house. Oh! There they are over there."

Monica's friends were sliding towards them along the sand, smiling slyly at her. Monica waved at them as Dillon snuck a bite. They said nothing to each other as they watched and waited for the girls to meet them.

"He-ey," called one of the girls. All three where soon standing over the couple and surveying Dillon, "we were wondering where you were."

"Hey, this is Dillon, we just met," said Monica, turning to Dillon.

"Hi, have a nice swim?" he asked.

The girl looked at him sourly, "Yeah. Hey Mon, let's go over to that café over there and get a coffee".

"Uh," Monica giggled, "I'll meet you over there soon."

"Fine," the girl said as she glanced at Dillon with slight repugnance and glided past them, the two other girls in tow.

"Wow, she seems nice," said Dillon, eyebrows raised with a small sarcastic smile pulling at his cheek.

"Oh, don't mind her. She's just jealous I met someone today and she hasn't," she replied seriously. "That's Shelly actually; she's the one that's having the party tonight".

"Cool... Oh ****," Dillon spotted Rollins bounding towards them along the sand, stepping over people's towels, stopping briefly to pick up a Frisbee that landed in front of him and then flinging it straight in to the air without looking. He smirked at them behind his mirrored shades. They both remained quite as he made his way across the grass to meet them.

"Hey **** face! There you are! I's wondering where you got to. Hi there, I'm Rollins!" he said, thrusting his big red hand at Monica. "What are doing with this ******* guy? He likes men you know."

" **** off Roll."

"Hi, I'm Monica," she said, curling her fingers around his hand, "Have a nice swim?"

"Haven't been in yet, ‘cept to drown some smart ass who was throwing shells at me."

She laughed, "That's not nice."

Rollins smiled sheepishly, "Well, he deserved it".

"What are you doing?" asked Dillon.

"Come to find you, we're off. You're driving."

"What? It's your ******* car!"

"Yeah, but you haven't had anything to drink," he said.
"Yes I have."

"What, two beers? ("Three.") I've had seven," he smirked at Monica, and back at Dillon. "Ok then, I'll drive but I'm leaving you here."

"Alright! ****! Just gimme a minute!"

"I need to piss, see you down there. See ya!" he smiled at Monica before lumbering away.

"Sorry, he's just jealous," explained Dillon.

"That's ok. I should go now anyway," she said, looking behind her to find the café across the road.

"So did you get her number?" Rollins asked as he climbed into the front seat.

Dillon, turning the ignition and replied flatly, "no she only just moved back. She hasn't got one yet."

"Neither do you."

"I know that, don't I?" Dillon, his arm reaching over the back of the car seat as he reversed, glanced at Rollins and shot daggers into his eyes.

"What did I do?!" replied Rollins aghast.

"Nothing."

As they parted Monica had promised that they'd somehow see each other again, but he'd heard that so many times before.

Rollins slapped Dillon's shoulder, "Come on man, there'll be plenty of girls out for us tonight eh?"

"Man this ******* sucks, where is everybody?" said Rollins, one hand on his knee and the other holding his pint of beer on the table, looking behind him.

The Net was unusually quiet. Dillon, Rollins and a guy named Mex sat on stools at a tall table around a half empty jug of beer. Small groups of drunken middle age derelicts, young grubby punks, and greasy overweight waitresses moved about shouting, laughing and drinking. The music was soft and the carpet stank. Bright red and yellow beer signs behind the bar seemed to be the only source of light.

"I don't know, probably something on," said Dillon, tearing a coaster around its edges with great concentration.

"Well it's ******* gay, it better pick up soon or I'm going home," Rollins was tired from the beers he had had on the beach and from his dinner of steak and eggs at their apartment, Dillon was glad.

"We could have stayed at the beach, Monica had her friends with her you know," he said, glancing at Rollins.

"She did? Why didn't you ******* tell me that?"

"Because you were so ******* eager to get home and suck your ******* ****, that's why," replied Dillon,. Mex laughed, he laughed at everything Dillon said to Rollins because he was too afraid to say anything himself. Dillon smirked, waiting for Rollins' response.

"Jesus, you act like she's the only girl you've ever met in your life," he said.

"Well she is actually. Every time I meet one here, you come over and wave your ******* **** around and scare them off."
"Bullshit, I never done that."
"You know what I mean."

"Whatever. I'm sorry. From now on I'll leave you alone, ladies man. Can't we just get drunk and have fun?"

Rollins smacked the empty shot glass on the table and hollered, wide-eyed in to Dillons face: "Heeeeya! Ha ha!"

Dillon laughed and drank the rest of his pint.

"So anyway," Rollins turned, smiling at the new additions to their table. Two girls they knew from high school, "this kid hits me in the leg with this shell, right? So I ******* charge in there - man they were so scared, ha ha! - and I pick him up over my head and throw him on top of his mate. ******* funny man!"

They laughed. The Net had grown busier over the last two hours and was full of a young, partly decent crowd. Dillon got up and stood at the bar, waiting. He scanned the crowd for any lone groups of girls. He spotted some sitting at a booth in a corner next to the entry, a group of fat girls orbiting around a rather pretty blonde one. He grabbed his fresh pint and walked tall towards them. They saw him coming and looked at each other, then back at him.

"Hey do you mind if I sit here, just for a little while?" he asked smiling, asking the blonde in particular. She looked at one of her friends, smiling and screwing her nose.

"Yeah ok," said her friend, "for a little while."

He sat down on the corner of the booth, and they stared at him.

"So, uh, having a good night?" he asked them all cheerily and glancing in the direction of his own table. Rollins was smiling at him and then leaned over to say something to Mex, laughing. They both stared at him grinning.

"Yeah it's ok, we just got here," said the fattest, who was sitting next to him. She offered her hand, smiling hungrily, "I'm Rachael".

The rest of the girls went back to whatever conversation they were having, leaving Dillon with Fat Rachael.

He looked at her and took her hand, "I'm Dillon," then turned and raised his voice towards the blonde, "So, what did you girls do today?"

They ignored him and kept talking. He slunk back in his chair and took a long drink.

"Well today I worked, and then I went shopping. I bought these earrings!" she leaned forward and stretched her fat neck to his face.

"Oh, they're nice," taking another drink.

"I know! And I also got..."

The blonde got up from her seat and walked towards the bathrooms and passed Rollins along the way. Rollins stopped her and said something; they both turned and looked at Dillon. Rollins said something else to her and they both laughed.

Dillon had quickly finished his beer while Rachael continued to talk about her work - the rest of her friends interested in him now that their blonde leader was gone. He was about to get up and announce that he needed to go and piss (and escape) when he suddenly noticed Monica walking in with her friend from the beach and look straight at him, she slid forward smiling and was about to say something when she noticed his chubby entourage. She frowned and quickly turned and moved towards the bar. Shelly, her friend, glared at him as they stomped off.

He cut Rachael off, "Hey I gotta piss, later".

Rushing after Monica he caught them as they arrived at the bar.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" he asked, amazed.

"Well we came to see you actually. Who are they?"

Dillon looked back, "Uh, them? No one, I just met them. How was the party?"

"Well it was going just fine until we got here, this place is disgusting," Shelly snarled, offended at something on the ground.

"It's alright. Hey do you want to find a seat? There's one," he pointed.

"I guess so. We'll get something to drink first."

"No, I'll get them. What are you drinking?"

Dillon turned from the bar carrying the vodkas and beer. He stopped at Rollins' table, the blonde was no longer with him.

"Hey buddy, nice work over there. ******* hot! I would have come and saved you, but I didn't want you to think I was waving my **** around again," he laughed and took a drink, "you're little girlfriend is here by the way".

"I know. Come over and talk to her friend," Dillon looked over at Shelly, who was looking around disgusted and talking angrily at Monica.

"Oh, so now you need me! No thanks, I'm just gonna sit here".

"Come on, don't be an *******".

"Alright, I'll get another beer. Where are they?"

Shelly lightened up, Rollins' crude charm was working on her like a curse, and Rollins actually seemed to like her. She was laughing, and much drunker than what Dillon had first presumed. Soon they were both talking only to each other.

"So, how was the party? Really?" Dillon asked.

"What party? It ended up just being me and her," she smiled, "and what about your night out? I didn't want to interrupt you and your girlfriends".

"You should have, I was dying," he laughed and looked over to Rachael who was now wrapped around Mex and sucking drunkenly at his teeth with her fat lips.

"What do you mean?" she said, feigning ignorance and then giggling, "They seem nice".

"Yeah, nice and fat," he laughed.

"Don't be mean!" she slapped his knee.

They both looked at each other a smiled through a small silence.

"I'm so glad you came, I didn't think I would ever see you again," Dillon said, looking deep into her eye holes. He leaned forward and she kissed him.

Back at the apartment, Dillon had his shirt off as he held himself over Monica. Her arms twisting around his waist as her legs wrapped around his own, her mouth sucking and stretching over his jaw. His tongue lashing the back of her salty throat. She slid out of her dress like a snake shedding its skin, and wrapped her fingers around his throat.

" **** me."

He quickly undid his belt and pushed his pants down, pulling one leg out and then flapping them off with the other. He licked at her nipple and reached down and rubbed her sodden hole. Placing a finger in, pumping it and slipping more fingers in, stretching it until his entire hand was enclosed. She gasped as he made a fist and pulled it back and forth slowly making sucking sounds, she spread her soft lips over his face again, her arms tightening around his chest. He moved his head away from her so that her mouth released his face with a smack and her head fell back onto the bed. He licked her stomach and pushed his arm further up inside her, her back looping in to an arc.

"Oh yeah, deeper, **** yes!"

He slid his other hand in next to his bicep and grabbed the pink, wet rim and pulled it apart, little by little, stretching her and then pushed his other arm in.

"Ahhh!"

Soon he was up on his knees, pulling his arms apart and staring down in to the dark, wet cave. Her legs flopped hopelessly to her side and curled upwards. He lowered his head and pushed his bare skull in slowly; the lips gently rolling tight over the gristle that was his nose, sliding deeper over his clenched teeth until her ***** tightened under his chin like a strap. Still he pushed deeper and deeper until she was sealed tight under his arm pits. Inside was warm and wet, dark. He could feel her contracting around his body. She inhaled and filled herself with warm musky air, Dillon breathed the scent deeply through his nose, becoming light headed.

"Turn around, oh!"

He gently laid on his stomach with his feet hanging over the end of the bed as he pushed his hands flat together like a diver and then turned slowly inside her. The slime inside her working as a lubricant, building up and running out around her entry. She gasped and moaned until finally he lay on his back. Soon he could feel her sucking at his body, inching him up inside her further and further with each gulp, swallowing him whole. He groaned, the soft, slippery walls of her skin creeping warmly over his bare dry muscles. Finally her ***** was enclosed around his waist, his head still buried beneath the suffocating darkness behind her breasts, he craned his neck upwards and could see small patches of light shining through her mouth and eyes, as he worked his hands up to find her empty arm sockets.

He lay perfectly still as she continued to work her waist down his legs, enjoying her constricting, strong, body crushing him. Soon her whole torso was stretched entirely over him, her empty legs flopping down touching the floor. He parted his feet and worked his toes into the warm wet holes of her legs, the skin suddenly sliding upwards wrapping tight around his thighs. Soon, only his bare, erect penis was exposed to the outside world, cold; poking through the floppy pink folds of her stretched vagina. She contracted her upper body down, his arms sliding up into hers until her hands where stretched tightly over his, like gloves. He pushed his head hard against the tight hole of her neck until it suddenly gave way, sliding over his skull abruptly. They both gasped.

"Oh ****!" Dillon whimpered. He could feel her lips moving over his teeth, unable to speak now that she was full.

They both laid there for a moment as she vacuumed herself around him, he jolted for a second as a zap of claustrophobia struck him. But he soon gave in, relinquishing himself to her warmth. He felt safe. Strong against the world, nothing could hurt him. Even the soft sheets of the bed would not rub and grate against his bare, raw muscles.

Her vagina tightened and sucked up the shaft of his penis, sealing tightly beneath its head. Pulsing and throbbing. Pumping until he came, coating her stomach.

He awoke the next morning, cold. She had ejected him during the night. She left a note, on it was her address and a love heart.

"So, I met your mother at the beach. It was lucky she came to find me at that pub that night. Otherwise you two wouldn't be here today," Dillon exclaimed to his kids, who were obviously let down by his short and boring story, "So there you are. Let's go and get some pizza, eh?"

"You can't drive dad, the TV says you're not allowed to drink and drive. You're drinking a beer."

"Its ok son, your mother will drive," he got up and turned around. His hand reached for his chest and squeezed her breast, "Won't she?"

He felt her skin tighten around his wrist, tugging in protest as he grabbed the car keys.

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Comments (4)

Posted by My Opinion 2008-02-08 16:06:20 Honestly This is just a pointless perverted story that belongs on the back page of some girlie magazine. Does your mother know you talk like this Clinton. Well, if she did, she would be ashamed. Stories come across so much more effectivly without the flagarent use of curse...no no no ,,ugly words. + Report this comment
Posted by Acid Rain 2008-02-09 09:40:42 .... Thanks + Report this comment
Posted by Acid Rain 2008-02-09 15:42:45 .... Actually the point of the story is how women make men feel when theyre together. And also a reference to my drinking not being able to be controlled by my lady friend and how it will ruin everything. But I guess I didnt allow that to be evident in the story, so maybe I should try and make it a little more obvious. I believe ugly words are good in stories. Irvine Welsh and Charles Bukowski are good examples. I love those guys. I've got a pretty dirty mouth in real life, so I guess that shows in my writing. Thanks for your input, keep up the good work. + Report this comment
Posted by deadfamilytree 2008-03-24 01:01:06 .... that whole "sex" scene was...wierd...i liked the story though. i dont agree with though. its the language that shows the character + Report this comment

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