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by hazel cummings
“dedicated to all the pretty girls, all the pretty girls . . . and the ugly girls too, ‘cause to me you’re pretty anyway, baby”
“before i die i wanna taste everyone in the world”
we decide that our pussies are underutilized, so we set out to develop a few new uses. i start keeping change in mine, and she uses hers to keep leftovers warm. i learn to do the crossword with my pussy, and she figures out how to tie her shoes. i use mine to dry off after a dip in the pool, and she rides hers to the market and back. and yet, we are unsatisfied. i look her in the eyes, and she looks into mine. i say, “you know what we should really be doing with these things, don’t you?” and she says, “yeah, i really do.” we 69 until the sun burns out.
he says, “i want to put my corndog in your pizza pocket,” and, “i want to eat your double-decker taco, front to back,” and, “i want to pour my gravy all over your mashed potatoes,” all while lying on top of me, his breath hot against my skin. i say, “well quit talking about it and just fuck me already,” kind of bored. he sits on the edge of the bed; avoids eye contact. i say, “bb, what’s wrong?” and he says, “i have...body issues.” i say, “honey, you don’t need to worry. i like you just the way you are.” he says, “can we turn the lights off?” and i say, “darling, we don’t need to. this is a safe place.” he laughs; relieved; almost crying. he takes off his shirt, and his nipples look like pepperoni slices on mounds of tapioca pudding. i say, “put your shirt back on,” and then i point to the door. i say, “i’m sorry, daniel. you were right to be ashamed. my bad.” he leaves a trail of tears as he walks out the door and out of my life.
i ask her what the “t” stands for, and in response she pulls out her dick. “transexual,” she says, and then she licks her lips. i say, “what about the ‘x’?” and she says, “it stands for x-tra parts,” and then she pulls out three vaginas, one more dick, and a tit. i say, “what about the other ‘x’?” and then she says, “x-tra, x-tra, read all about it! it ain’t gonna suck itself!” and then she makes me suck both dicks and two of her cunts. afterwards, xtx and i get tattoos of tits over our own tits, life-size and skin-colored, complete with freckles and peach fuzz. for as long as we live, no one ever knows about the ink, but we know, and that’s hot.
from his blogspot review of our sex: “windows are the eyes of a house. people look inside almost as much as they look out, but in time all windows break, no matter what floor they’re on. yet it is possible to reside in a home that wasn’t meant to be lived in, a house built haunted. when the ghost of one touches the ghost of another, heaven is created.” translation: he fucked me in the butt and his cum and my shit got all mixed together and he thought the whole thing was pretty awesome.
when i meet him he is crying and facebooking about how sad he feels when people seem not to like him, which isn’t exactly a turn on, but i decide to fuck him anyway, sort of out of pity. he cries while he undresses, and also while i undress, and then he cries even harder when his dick won’t work. i suck him erect (he cries), and then he fucks me raw (while crying), and then his dick cries, getting me like super pregnant.
she tells me a really sad story about how she has no money, and then she tells me that she’s embarrassed or whatever, but that she’s going to have to charge me. “for $1 you can think about me naked, and for $5 i will look down my shirt and describe my tits to you. for $15 you can sit on my bed, and for $45 you can kiss my pussy and/or smell my butthole, and for $150 you can hold my hand for thirty minutes.” i say, “i have a ten dollar bill with your name on it if you want to eat me out and let me fist you.” she gives me her trademarked blank stare. “yeah. sure. whatever.” we fuck like banshees.
his bed is made of books. i kneel in front of it, and i try to makes sense of what i’m looking at. he says, “pick any book in the pile, and i can tell you how the author is in bed.” i say, “wait, you’ve fucked all of these people?” and he just looks at me and nods. i point to grow up by ben brooks. “he fucks like a damp rag.” i point to hill williams my scott mcclanahan. “like he just got fired from a job that he never wanted in the first place.” i point to pee on water by rachel b. glaser. “like she was made of stars and stripes. like she was fucking for her country.” i start to unbutton his pants, but he stops me. “not until you have a book published.” i start to speak, but he stops me again. “the internet doesn’t count.” we watch a movie on netflix, and then he gives me cab fare and kicks me out.
she says, “i want you to tie me up and hit me.” i reach for the rope on the coffee table, but she slaps my hand away. she says, “give me $150, right now!” i start to say, “i thought this was a date,” but she interupts, saying, “do you want to fuck or not?!” i give her the $, and she throws it in my face. she says, “i’m not your whore!” and i say, “i never said you were,” totally confused about what’s going on. she says, “are you saying that there’s something wrong with taking $ for sex? because there fucking isn’t, you close-minded fuck!” and then she kisses me on the mouth. i don’t know what to do. she says, “i’m beautiful, and letting you touch me was a gift.” i say, “i agree with you,” and then she says, “i’m ugly! don’t look at me!” while pointing at her pussy and licking her lips seductively. i say, “i think i should go,” and turn to leave. marie calloway disables and re-starts her facebook six times before i make it out the door.
i am in bed with dj berndt. we are married, and we have been for years and years. we have sex that is respectful, but still invigorating/ exciting. he pushes me to my limit without inspiring shame, and i make him cum three times in a row and swallow every drop, but not in a filthy way. i swallow his cum like the queen of england would swallow cum. afterwards, we cuddle, switching back and forth between big and little spoon, and then we eat a snack and watch a clever program. we are in love in every possible way, and we always will be.
robert duncan gray
he says, “i love to eat the pussy,” and i say, “prove it, motherfucker.” he eats my pussy for so long that his beard and my pubes fuse together, and then he’s completely stuck. i say, “i’m gonna get some scissors,” but he says, “mmn mnm mmmnnmn.”* i say, “but dude, i have to pee,” and he says “mmnm mmnmmnn mmn, mmmnm mmmm.”** “ok,” i say, “i guess that’s kind of hot.” for the rest of my life, rob eats my pussy, which is cool in a way, because i’m getting my pussy ate, but it sort of blows because i have to drag him around everywhere i go. eventually i die. i don’t know what happens after that. * ”no, don’t cut me loose, i want to keep eating that sweet, sweet pussy.” ** “just piss all over me, baby girl. i can’t get enough.”
we push our boobs together and cum in unison. it’s super-duper cute ;)
i try to kiss him, but he pushes me away. he makes me watch every wes anderson movie (except for bottle rocket) back to back while he flexes in the corner. he says, “are you ready to get fucked?” and i say, “yes.” he says, “too bad,” and starts lifting weights.
riley michael parker
he says, “spit on it.” i spit on it. he cums. it’s dumb.
shane jones fingers me in a way that i find to be “breathtaking!” and “alarmingly clever!” while the sex itself is “not to be missed . . . a triumph!” and his penis is “moving . . . a joy to behold!” and “an undeniable presence!” that said, other people have called shane jones unoriginal, even criminal, claiming that his lovemaking is just a thinly-veiled knockoff of salvador plascencia, but i can neither confirm nor deny this, seeing as salvador and i have never fucked.
he says, “i only like it if i’m on bottom,” and i say, “sure, that’s fine with me.” “tie me up,” he says, “i want to be ravaged.” i tie his arms and legs to the bedposts, and when i check his crotch i find that he has a throbbing erection. i start to finger myself to get my pussy wet, but he says, “no, i want your butthole.” “um,” i say, “i’m not in the mood,” and i keep on diddling. he starts yelling, “stink my pink! stink my pink! stink my pink!” with tears welling in his eyes and mucus starting to string out from his nostrils. “stink my pink!” he screams. “stink my pink!” and then, like a total sweetheart, i wrap my adorable little asshole around his beefy man-steak, and he immediately squirts hot boy juice into my cutie-poop-chute.
we look at each other. i say, “you’re beautiful.” she thanks me; says it back. “no,” i say, “you don’t understand. you are absolutely stunning. physically, you are gorgeous, but there’s so much more going on. you are so brilliant. and you have an old soul. you don’t give yourself enough credit.” she looks at me. i look at her. she says, “fucking would just cheapen it.” i say, “i feel the same way.” we spend the night cuddling, taking turns being the big spoon. she reads to me, and i read to her. we listen to deathcab for cutie---not as a joke, but because we want better memories to the music that used to mean so much to us, even though we’ve technically moved on. i say, “do you remember magnolia? ‘we might be done with the past, but the past isn’t done with us.’” she says, “i never saw it.” i say, “you’d like it.” we fall asleep.
i climb into the empty tub, and meaux starts to lather my pussy and asshole. “i want you as smooth as egyptian silk,” he says, and then he begins to shave me. once my asshole (aka my faggot pussy) and my vagina (aka my front butt) are pre-teen to the max, meaux moves on to my armpits (aka my torso cunts). i say, “why are you shaving my armpits?” and he says, “because i’m gonna fuck the shit out of them, you dumb bitch.” when he starts to shave my head i almost cry, but then i realize that this means he’s gonna lube up my skull and rub his dick on my scalp. my loins turn into niagra falls, i’m so wet. “fuck me,” i beg, but he says, “not yet, you greedy slut,” and when i look back his whole body is foamy white. he smiles his stupid fucking smile. “my turn...” he says, and then he slaps my mouth in the most romantic way possible. i shave him bare. we fuck like banshees.
he fucks me like a car crash. one moment i’m just sitting there, but then suddenly he’s thrust himself into me, and the impact causes me to lurch forward, my body almost floating. it feels as if i am being hit by a wave of sound, and i grab him to try and steady myself. it is over in an instant, but i know that i will carry this moment for the rest of my life.
matt is dressed in a red cape like a pre-teen girl lost in the woods, and i am dressed like a lychanthropic rapist in a pair of cut-off jean shorts. he climbs me like a tree, and i use him like a toilet. we switch outfits and go home.
blake butler fists me until i pass out from exhaustion. when i wake up he’s peeing on me through his whitey-tighties, turning them an orangey red (he has a terrible disease). we both cum like banshees.
jimmy chen is dressed like blake butler if he were sam pink, and he pees on me until i pass out from shame. when i wake up he is fisting me, using a pair of his whitey-tighties like a condom and turning them a green-ish yellow (i have a horrible disease). we switch outfits and go home.
“my pussy tastes like strawberry shortcake.” “says who?” “says you.” *pushes her pussy against my mouth “omg... it totally does!” “well, duh.”
lucy k shaw
she insists that we dress like raggedy anne and raggedy andy. she lets me pick which one i want to be. i say, “i’m used to being the girl.” she says, “ok.” i say, “can we trade outfits and fuck again?” she says, “well, duh.” i am head over heels.
we spend all afternoon choosing our favorite profile pics from facebook, clicking through page after page, saving the best images of rachel pattycake bell and frank hinton and beach sloth and richard chiem, and then we enlarge them in photoshop; print them; cut out eye and mouth holes. he says, “i want to be crispin best.” i say, “i want to be jackson nieuwland.” we put on our masks, he puts his dick in my butt, and then he fucks me against a wall. he says, “i want to be blk btlr.” i say, “i want to be daniel alexander.” we put on our masks, i wrap a slice of cheese pizza around his dick, and then i suck it and chew it and swallow what i can. he says, “i want to be heiko julien,” and i say, “omg, me too.” we put on our masks, we get on our laptops, we google “heiko julien”, and then we beat off to the results. we both cum like banshees (duh). we trade outfits and go home.
“can i choke you while we fuck?” “um, sure, that sounds cool.” “and slap your face?” “duh, that’s what it’s there for.” “and like, i’m going to call you all kinds of fun names, like ‘cum whore’ and ‘dirty bitch’ and ‘stupid shit-cunt’, ok?” “yeah, ok, whatever.” “guess what? i don’t like women.” “get out of town! i don’t believe that for a second!” “it’s true!” *uppercuts me in the pussy and pees on my couch
we look at pictures of him on his laptop for a long, long time. he picks one, enlarges it in photoshop, and then prints it out. he tapes the picture to my face---doesn’t even cut eye holes or anything, just presses it against my face and tapes it there. he starts jacking off at me, furiously. i start fingering myself, but he slaps my hand away. “this isn’t about you,” he says. eventually he cums, but then he just starts jacking it again. this goes on for a while.
ian dick jones
he says, “lol, i wish you had a dick, bro.” i say, “dude, me too.” we look at each other. eventually i go home.
yt says “i have a dick where my clit should be,” and i say, “i have dicks where my tits should be,” and she says, “i have dicks instead of fingers, and pussies instead of armpits,” and i say, “i have between 16 and 23 dicks and/ or pussies, and like 4 to 8 mouths.” we look at each other. we turn into a ball of unicorn labia, and then that david cronenberg guy makes a movie about it called “the hottest thing i ever came to.”
she says, “get down on the ground, you bigtittied cunt. i’m gonna ride you like a tilt-awhirl.” i am reluctant, but i get on my hands and knees, and then chelsea puts a saddle on my back. she pulls a carrot from her pants pocket, and she glares at me. “i’ll give you two guesses where this is going, and here’s a hint, it ain’t your mouth.” chelsea sticks the carrot up my sweet little asshole---all the way in until only the green top is hanging out. “and don’t think that i forgot about that tight tiny pussy of yours, hazel---that’s why i brought the baby carrots.” chelsea shoves an entire bag of baby carrots up my jap’s-eye one by one, then pulls the carrot out of my butt in one quick motion. “remember when i said this wasn’t going in your mouth? well i lied.” i can’t stop myself from cumming as she rides me around the living room, my mouth filled with butt carrot.
i am the fluffer on vouched’s first hardcore porn movie, cleverly titled cum gobbler (aka gobble me up, aka open your yob cuz here cums the gob), and tyler walks over to me and is all, “let me buy you a nice dinner and take you to a play and then kiss you respectfully on the cheek and then court you for six months and then make love to you for the first time on the roof of a church and then propose to you and marry you and then give you seven babies all of them boys and all of them beautiful,” and i’m like, “really?” and he unzips his pants and says, “yeah right, think again, loser. now do your fucking job already and suck this fucking dick.” i suck him until it’s time for me to stop, and then i watch him fuck a bunch of dudes and suck their fatty dicks. can you believe i get paid for this? cha-ching $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
lucas starts with his dick between my tits, and then moves around back to lick my asshole. he yells, “cut!” then turns to his assistant director and says, “sorry, it’s just that the idea here is that i’m a lost dude, almost soulless, and i’m hungry, starving even, and hazel’s asshole is the only thing on the menu. is that coming through? are you getting that?” the a.d. says, “i think we’re gonna need to move some lights around or something,” and lucas jumps up, full of fire. i sit on the bed for almost an hour, waiting for them to be ready to shoot, and then finally lucas re-joins me. i say, “i really respect the work that you do,” and he says, “hazel, don’t fucking talk to me, it throws me of.” the two of us make art for hours and hours and hours and hours.
we fuck in the back seat of his father’s car, and it’s the best sex that i’ve ever had in my entire life. nah, just kidding. his dick doesn’t work and i tell him to take me home, lol.
rachel pattycake bell
her pussy is only half shaved in an attempt to be edgy (cute), and she has a temporary tattoo of a cat and a ball of yarn on her left hip (super cute), and when she queefs an adorable little bunny rabbit hops out of her vagina and kisses my cheek before jumping out the open window (omg this is so fucking cute), and then she giggles and looks at me over her shoulder and blows me two dozen kisses. our sex is adorable (duh), but lacks substance, and ultimately isn’t worth the attention of anyone.
austin islam puts it in my butt, and then my mouth, and then my butt again (and by “it” i mean “his penis,” just so you know). over and over and over again. butt, mouth, butt, mouth, butt, mouth, butt. he makes me call him “charles.” he makes me call him “arthur.” he says, “does your mouth taste like poop?” and i tell him that it does. he says, “that’s your own poop, baby, that’s your own poop,” and then he laughs like he’s joking.
we go for a walk. we watch the craft. we eat kraft macaroni. we take a bunch of pills and cry and call our ex boyfriends. we nap on the floor. we go to carl’s jr. we go to target. we kill a cat. we try on each other’s underwear. we drag the neighbor boy into the garage and stab him a bunch of times but leave him alive. we order pizza. we eat oreos while we wait for the delivery boy. we flash our tits instead of giving him a tip. oreos on the pizza. yum. we are geniuses. we steal some bikes and ride to the other side of town. we drown a teenager in his own toilet while his parents watch two and a half men. we kill his parents with a knife and a hammer and a baseball bat. we write quotes from clueless on the wall in blood. we steal their car. we drive to the woods. we kiss each other slowly. we hold hands. we are in love.
he is a southern gentleman, through and through. when he puts his dick in my ass it’s almost as if he were loading a musket. he whistles dixie. he pours gravy over everything. the sun is always setting, and in the distance there are barking dogs. we drink sweet tea and bourbon, surrounded by fireflies. he calls me “ms cummings,” and always wears a suit, nice and white just like his teeth. i know he doesn’t love me, but he thinks he does, and he likes it, so i let him. we hold hands, even when he’s inside me. we’re always holding hands. we go to church every sunday---not for the sermon, but for the music. he likes his eggs sunny side up. he likes me on my back. i like him above ground. i like him full of vinegar. i like him any way he wants to be.
i look at her and see myself. she doesn’t look anything like me. we have very little in common. still, she reminds me of me. i say, “you look like a woman.” she says, “i don’t feel like one.” i cup her breasts, then run my hands down the sides of her body. “yeah you do.” she laughs. we go to a book store. i spend all of my time in the magazines, and she looks through the classics. we go to a coffee shop. i get a mocha. she gets a latte. she says, “has all the good art been made already?” i grab her by the shoulders. “not even close---i mean, you just got started, bb.” she laughs like i’m being silly, but there is fire in her eyes.
i scroll through facebook. i scroll through tumblr. i read a dozen short stories. i read three thousand poems. i write “shabby doll house” on my thigh with a knife. i read every comment on every post at html giant. twice. i message blk btlr. i send tao lin a picture of me sitting on the toilet. i imagine every single person on the internet saying my name in unison. i cum like a banshee. i take my clothes off and put them back on. i tell myself i’m beautiful.
also by hazel cummings
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about the author
just make something up. it’s not like it matters, lol.
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