Welcome To Hell.A.

by Stephens, L.

  “You want some, darling?” Ryan said to Jessica.

  She didn’t respond, just bucked like a wild horse, pulling on the cuffs with all her might.

  “Actors!” Ryan said to himself as he put the bullet away. “Always staying in the moment.”

  He could feel the coke waking him up, boiling his blood, but there was nothing on Earth taming his boner.

  “Oooh!” Ryan said, inching closer on his knees. “This is going to be a wild ride.”

  Zombie Brad was still staring deep into the mirror. He had smeared Jessica’s blood onto his reflection during the night, trying to get at his beautiful face. The pattern on the mirror looked almost like a love heart—a valentine card to himself. The sound from the exhaust fan had muffled Ryan’s entrance into the room, but suddenly a sound of a slap eclipsed the roaring tone coming from the ceiling, and it got his attention. Another slap, louder this time, made him turn around. He needed to see where this new sound was coming from.

  Ryan was about to enter Jessica. He was holding on to her hips, slapping her perfect ass, as she bucked back toward him, almost twisting her head around like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

  “Mmmm, you like that?” Ryan asked through his teeth. “Well, you’re going to love this!”

  Ryan had savored the moment as much as he could. He took his cock and rested it on the entry of her pussy. It was gooey and wet, but the smell that came from her vagina was the worst thing he had ever smelled, and this was coming from a guy who regularly stuck his finger up his ass.

  “Oooh whee! That pussy needs a wash, Jessica!” Ryan said, sweat already rolling down his forehead. “I kind of like it though.”

  Without warning Ryan slammed his cock inside her, which sent Jessica onto her side trying to get at him, and Ryan took this as an invitation to keep fucking. He started feverishly pumping into her, holding her leg to her chest. If ever he needed to think about his grandma or a dead puppy, it was right then. He was fucking Jessica Raven, and she was loving it, bucking and moaning, making him feel like a god, a fuck god. Suddenly, the greatest thing to ever stop a heterosexual human male wanting to cum appeared across the bed from him, stark naked and glaring at him. It was dark, but there was no mistaking who it was. He had heard the rumors about him fucking someone on the down low. He just wished he’d known it was Jessica, so that last night’s negotiation process would have been a lot easier.

  “Brad Green?” Ryan sputtered, pulling out of Jessica and falling off the bed.

  Zombie Brad’s head jerked back as if the mention of his name burned something within his rotting brain. Ryan took a moment to inspect Zombie Brad’s cock. Rigamortis had kicked in, and it stood semi-erect.

  “Nice!” Ryan said with a smile as he pointed at Brad’s cock. “You want some help with that?”

  Ryan didn’t consider himself gay or bi-sexual because he had never fucked or sucked a guy. There had been few times when he had gotten a sly blowjob from a transvestite he had picked up on Santa Monica Boulevard, but as far as he was concerned that didn’t count.

  † When your man crush is standing across from you with a semi-erect dick, what are you going to do? †

  Zombie Brad lunged for Ryan, but Jessica’s body stopped him from sliding over to the side he was standing on.

  “Whoa, buddy!” Ryan said, gathering his clothes. “I thought this was cool!”

  As Ryan bent down to pick up his pants, he got a glimpse of something that made his stomach turn. In the dim light he could tell it wasn’t blood, but it was horrifying just the same. A yellow mucus-like substance was coating his cock.

  “Jesus Christ!” Ryan exclaimed. “Jessica, you need to get that pussy looked at!”

  Like some sort of defense of her honor, Zombie Brad lunged at Ryan again, this time making it over to the other side of the bed, but Ryan was already out the door and hurtling down the hallway.

  “Take it easy, Brad!” Ryan yelled over his shoulder. “It takes two to tango!”

  Zombie Brad screamed a blood-curdling yell in response as he started gathering speed.

  “Alright, I’m going!” Ryan yelled as he ran out the front door onto the grass. “Read the script, Jessica! I’ll call you later!”

  Running out of the house, pants in hand, wasn’t a new thing for Ryan. Most of the sex he got was from horny housewives he met on dating sites. It wasn’t as if he was an internet Don Juan; the women were just desperate, and Ryan didn’t discriminate on appearance. Ryan thanked the Lord he had left the car running, and that was the only thing saving him right now. With Zombie Brad hot on his heels, he thought about sliding across the hood like Bo Duke, but since he was naked from waist down, he opened the passenger door and dived across to the driver’s seat. Ryan managed to close the door and lock it before Zombie Brad charged into the car and bounced backwards onto the ground.

  “Hey, be careful there, Brad,” Ryan said as he adjusted his position in the driver’s seat. “You don’t want to injure that arm.”

  Ryan put the car in drive and hit the gas, watching Zombie Brad chase after him in the rearview mirror.

  CHAPTER 49: FLASHBACK: MARTY McFLY

  FIVE MONTHS EARLIER

  Alarms were going off incessantly, and Jake knew he had fucked up. This was no longer funny or a cool story he could tell a friend’s kid about, when and/or if he got to be an old man. He couldn’t tell his own kid, because sure as shit, he wasn’t having any—none that he knew of anyway.

  It was supposed to be a quick little in and out, and it had turned into an Indiana Jones type escape. The massive boulder rolling behind him trying to crush him had been substituted for two giant security guards chasing him down a hallway, vying for the right to get the first punch through Jake’s face and out the back of his head. Instead of the safari style shirt and pants with wide brimmed hat, he was dressed more like James Bond, wearing a full tuxedo and sexy patent leather loafers.

  On paper it sounded pretty simple: get a nice, tailored tuxedo and attend a black-tie benefit for a Republican senator that was being held at some rich guy’s mansion in Woodland Hills. That was obviously the easiest part of the job. The hard part was fucking the rich guy’s young wife and taking some candid pictures and videos of the act before delivering them to Max. The price Max had offered was fifty thousand dollars, and Jake knew he could have gotten one hundred thousand, but he also would have done it for free. He just wanted to see if he could fuck the wife. It sounded like a real “Jake” thing to do. Jake loved filming his adventures in fucking and sucking, but it was always with willing participants who knew they were getting filmed. So, he decided he would fuck the rich guy’s wife and film it, but only if she gave the okay, and he wouldn’t hand it over to anyone. #PersonalUseOnly

  Martin McClintock, the name Max had given him, suited up quite nicely, and, besides the staff, he was the youngest person there by a good ten years. Well, he was the youngest man there; a lot of the wives were his age or younger. The fake I.D. was pretty good and got him in the door without any trouble, which was surprising considering the amount of money that was there and the fact that the photo on the I.D. wasn’t even Jake. He was pleased to find out there was no video recording going on, which he found odd, but he assumed there must have been some shady characters attending the party who didn’t want their affiliation to be documented.

  Jake surveyed the scene. It was a literal treasure trove of trophy wives and trophy insignificant others. All he had to do was find the right one to fuck. The rich guy who owned the mansion strode directly up to him as he entered and played twenty questions. He could see Jake didn’t belong, and, from the line of questioning, it seemed the rich guy thought he was some undercover reporter from VICE magazine, trying to do an exposé on Republican benefit dinners. Jake told the rich guy enough right wing garbage to allay his fears and confirm the wealthy trust fund kid persona Max had gotten for him.

  To say Jake was disappointed was an understatement. There was no chase, there was no challenge.
It was like her pussy was a heat seeking missile and Jake’s cock was the hottest thing in the room. After the rich guy had left to schmooze with some other guest, she found her way over to him almost immediately, and Jake, though disappointed in the lack of challenge, was excited at the sheer hotness of the wife. This guy hadn’t just found some beautiful, modestly dressed young woman; he had found a groupie of a nineteen eighties hair band to marry. Her tits were as big as her head, and Jake estimated they were at least 800cc in volume, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were bigger, and he hoped they were. Her juicy tits were jammed into a sequined evening dress, which had a long split down the side that came ever so close to revealing what Jake assumed would be a tattoo above her pussy that read “Enter Here”.

  Her name was Tara. Of course it was. She was twenty-four, and she had been in L.A. a grand total of six months before the rich guy had met her drinking at the bar of the Beverly-Wilshire. He had immediately brought her into his house, booked an appointment for her to get a deluxe set of implants and a few other minor cosmetic procedures. She was more than willing. She had come to L.A. from a small place in Texas to be a model but had realized immediately she was no longer the hottest girl in town. The rich guy had taken advantage of this fact and had destroyed her ego, comment by comment, causing her to act out and become the horniest housewife in the valley, which was quite the feat.

  She was already half drunk when she approached Jake. From the smell of her breath, he assumed she was drinking vodka on the rocks at best or vodka shots at worst. Either way, Jake knew he was going to be in for a wild ride. They exchanged pleasantries as she crept closer and closer to him. Jake had to look around to make sure the rich guy wasn’t watching. He wanted to fuck her, not be the pawn in their little mating ritual. He was relieved to find the rich guy had disappeared and there didn’t seem to be any security guys or Donaldesque butlers lurking around to pour cold water on his game. Even though he was getting paid to fuck her, Jake found her super sexy and loved her thick Texan accent.

  “He’s a fucking asshole, you know that right?” Tara blurted out as she grabbed Jake’s arm and caressed his bicep. “His cock’s fucking tiny, too!”

  And that was it, the chase was over, within three minutes of talking to Jake, she had told him she didn’t like her husband and that he had a small dick. She was waving him in; he just had to make sure he didn’t crash and burn.

  “Hon, you’re fucking hot. Even if he was the nicest guy in the world,” Jake said with a half-smile, “I’d still want to fuck you.”

  Tara paused and Jake waited for the outcome of his daring maneuver. He definitely had skipped a few steps, but he knew she was already waiting for him to show his interest or at least fawn over her, and you know goddamn well he wasn’t going to do the latter.

  “You’re a fuck boy, aren’t you?” Tara whispered, sexily. “What if I told my husband?”

  “Tell him,” Jake said as he pretended to look around for the rich guy. “Actually, I’ll go tell him. If you don’t want to fuck me, what do I care?”

  He actually cared a lot, but he wasn’t going to play games. Every second he wasted not fucking Tara, was a second he could be using to fuck someone else.

  “Shut up,” Tara whispered. “Of course I want to fuck you, dummy. God! Can’t a girl have some fun?”

  “If you want fun, babe,” Jake said smoothly, “take me upstairs. We’re past playing games.”

  Tara met Jake in the dimly lit mini movie theatre at the back of the house, exactly where she had told him to go. As he waited, he wondered how many guys had done the same before.

  “Hey there, handsome,” Tara said as she entered the room.

  “You came,” Jake said as walked towards her.

  “Of course,” she said as she took off the spaghetti straps that had been struggling to contain her breasts. “You know I want to fuck, and you better be good.”

  Well played, Jake thought. He knew there was nothing more powerful than a girl throwing out a challenge before they engaged in sex. It was performance anxiety fuel.

  “Get on your knees,” Jake whispered as he marveled at her massive tits.

  They hadn’t even kissed, but he knew she would, and she did. She got down on her knees and grabbed one of her huge tits and squeezed it. Any hint of performance anxiety disappeared into the ether. Jake didn’t even unzip. He just pulled his erect cock out and pushed his pants down a couple inches so his balls were free too. Tara aggressively grabbed him by the pockets of his pants, bringing him closer to her. There was no shy tonguing of the head of his cock or jerking of his shaft. She just started sucking on his dick, getting deeper with every mouthful, and Jake looked down in awe. She was inhaling him, and excess spit was dribbling down her chin onto her perfect tits, she practically had both hands in his pockets using them for leverage—this was not her first rodeo.

  “You’re fucking awesome,” Jake said. “You’re blowing my fucking mind.”

  As if he was challenging her, Tara went deeper than she had before. Tears streamed out of her eyes, but she kept trying to go deeper, gagging on the head of his cock. He thought about pulling out his phone and taking a pic of this amazing sight, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He wanted to absorb everything about this in his mind. A photo just wouldn’t do it justice.

  “Lemme smash,” Jake whispered, trying not to blow right there and then.

  Tara pulled her hands out of his pockets and leaned back on her elbows, showing Jake she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her pussy glistened as she rubbed her clit with her fingers. There was no tattoo—he didn’t need it. He knew where he was going to enter. Jake got onto his knees and crawled towards her pussy, licking his lips in anticipation. As he ducked his head to taste her, she grabbed him by the sides of his head and pulled him up.

  “We don’t have time,” Tara whispered. “Just fuck me, okay?”

  Jake was stunned for a second. He had forgotten they were in the midst of a party and she was the host, and her absence was probably noted by someone.

  “If you insist,” Jake said as he positioned his cock at the entrance to her pussy.

  † Contrary to what you’re thinking, Jake’s a generous lover. He would have gladly eaten her out and enjoyed it. †

  Time didn’t seem to be an issue, because they fucked for a solid fifteen minutes in every position they could, which wasn’t many given she was wearing a long gown. Jake could see why the rich guy had locked her up. She was hot, she was fun and you could make her cum by just putting your dick half an inch inside of her. She was the ego boost every man needed. Jake didn’t stop to smell the roses when she told him to cum on her. He just pulled out and she dutifully got on her knees and presented her juicy tits.

  Tara bitched and moaned about her husband as they cleaned up in a small bathroom to the side of the mini movie theatre. Jake nodded and agreed and disagreed in the right places, but truth be told he was mentally checked out, still trying to process the whole experience. She started telling him about how she cheated on her husband all the time and how she could get him killed if she wanted, but the pre-nup was so air-tight she would get nothing. Jake didn’t know what to say to that, but it definitely made him want to call up a doctor friend to organize a run of antibiotics to kill off whatever was currently swimming in and around his cock.

  She pulled out her phone as he wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed it to his hair, catching any loose strands as he styled his hair in the mirror.

  “So, what’s your number, babe?” Tara asked. “I can’t give you mine, of course, but we should do this again.”

  Jake put his number in her phone himself. He was like a giddy school boy, and he almost put his real name instead of his alias, Martin. She took the phone back, and he noticed her type something short into the text message app and press send. He was a little confused because she had just told him he couldn’t have her number, so why would she text him? Everything was forgotten as she looked up at him sweetly, a
nd he was instantly hard again, that was until alarm bells started blaring.

  “You better go, sweetie,” Tara said calmly.

  “What?” Jake asked as he looked around the room.

  “You better go!” Tara insisted, motioning for Jake to leave the restroom. “They’re going to be looking for you.”

  Jake turned to her and smiled. He had been betrayed. He had been made a pawn in her little game with her husband.

  “Thanks for the fuck, I guess,” Jake said as he walked out into the hallway.

  “There he is!” a guard yelled as he pointed a sausage-like finger in Jake’s direction.

  It wasn’t the first time Jake had run for his life, but it was the first time he had done it while wearing a tuxedo. He made easy work of his escape, and in no time he had jumped over the fence that separated the mansion and the outside world. It wasn’t long before he felt his phone vibrate, and as he pulled it out to see a message from an unknown number, his heart skipped, most likely due to his cock becoming fully erect at the thought of Tara texting him. The message read:

  “Hi Martin! Hope you got out OK! I just want to tell you that in your pocket is a bag of diamonds. Cool, huh? My friend George is around the corner and he’ll pick them up from you and take you wherever you want to go!”

  Jake froze, as he reached into his pocket and felt the small velvet bag. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He had just been set up in the most bizarre way. It was like someone had taken a David Mamet screenwriting course and was trying out a few of his pointers.

  He didn’t even consider following the text message’s commands. He knew George would most likely be the last person he ever met, and he still felt like he had a lot to give to the community. Jake smashed his phone on the ground and shed a small tear for all the girls and their precious numbers that were inside. He vaguely knew where he was, but he thanked fuck he was in the valley. There were a lot of places to lay low, and he had a lot of friends in low places.