Lie there where you've landed

From Create Your Own Story

Revision as of 17:34, 21 September 2010

You lie there on your back in the middle of the road, limbs splayed like a rag doll. Concrete is hard. You hurt a lot. You wonder if it's merely scrapes and bruises or if you have any broken bones.

Worse, though, is how sad you feel now because you so badly wanted to see the motorcyclist's breasts (where "see" means "get your cock between them, and slowly stroke yourself until you come, maybe with a little help from her mouth and tongue, lovingly caressing the head of your cock, in between looking deep into your eyes and telling you how much she's looking forward to getting it in her..", oh dear, this is only making you more depressed, you'd better stop thinking about it) (plus, thinking about it is giving you one real fucking hard-on, I mean so hard it's starting to become very very uncomfortable, but it's probably too risky to unzip and pull your cock out of your pants since your arms might be broken..). They felt soo nice too, they were undoubtedly the perfect size, I mean perfect, once you calculate out the thickness of the leather jacket she had on.. which was pretty hot, touching her tits through leather.. Oops, hello, hard-on in tight sexy now-uselessly-lying-on-the-road pants, ow! Try to think of something else.

Like maybe that buzzard circling over you. You can't really tell if it's a buzzard, you wouldn't know a buzzard from a cockatoo if it mounted Faye Wray, but with your luck it probably is. After you die from exposure it'll probably eat your cock first, and then your mom will have to identify your body without a penis. This day is getting worse and worse.

Then you hear a car coming. You look up - "up" being over your shoulder and back down the road - and you can see the car hurtling right at you. Great, fucking great! The driver won't see you. You'll be squashed like a bug on a windshield, except you're a lot juicier than a bug (that's what the ladies say, anyway, wink-wink!), so it'll be a lot messier. Your erect cock will be pulverized. Or it'll be caught in the radiator and torn off and the insurance agent will find it and have to carry it back to your humiliated family. God, let it end, just let it end!

Suddenly you hear the squeal of brakes. The car screeches to a stop just a few feet from your head. A wave of heat passes over you from the motor. You open your eyes - you'd shut them, in expectation of your immanent demise - and look back up over your head as a gorgeous redhead gets out of the car. Fresh pain leaps from your crotch as you get a look at her tits, snug and yet full and jiggling above her plunging neckline. Yes, above - you never realized how AMAZINGLY sexy a woman can look standing over you, upside-down. You realize now that an hourglass figure is pretty much the same shape in either position. Her dress is red and snug all the way down - or is that up? - to her creamy, spotless mid-thighs, where it flares out, just a bit and rather fetchingly. Actually, this chick is apparently big into red, because her car is red too. You weren't really paying attention when it was bearing the messenger of Death in judgment of your Total Fail With The Hot Motorcyclist, but now that The End doesn't seem so unavoidable, you can see - not that this is how you're used to looking at cars - pretty fine, classic looking.

"Oh my god!" the redhead says. "Did someone run you over? Are you okay? Are you all right? Can you stand? How can I help you?"

Her voice, despite the distressed tone, is like butter over your cock. Hot, sizzling butter turning your popcorn cock into a delightful snack. Something like that.

You reply:

• "You can take me to a hospital."
• "You can take me to your place to rest up."
• "You can show me your tits."