It's Just a Ride

"Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow."

― Kurt Vonnegut

It happened. Simultaneously, all over the globe, it happened.

Zip! Chunkle! Spat!

The "witty" sportscasters on ESPN were about to cum down each other's throats, when it occurred.

Oprah had all two inches of her flaccid, drippy dick embedded in the bleeding asshole of the populace, as it took place.

Some forgotten celebrity was on his knees, preparing to deep throat corporate cock, in hopes of resuscitating his "career," at the moment the feed...stopped.

For 3.7 seconds, all television sets ― everywhere ― deluged the mind-drugged masses in a whiteout of video snow, followed by a brief injection of blackness, replaced by:

"The world is like a ride at an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it, you think it's real, because that's how powerful our minds are. [...}

Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question, 'Is this real, or is this just ride?' And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, and they say, 'Hey, don't worry. Don't be afraid ever, because this is just a ride.'

And we...kill those people. 'Shut him up. We have a lot invested in this ride. Shut him up. Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.'

It's just a ride. [...] It's just a ride."

― Bill Hicks

"I hate Vegas!" the liquored up lady spit forth, between hits off her lukewarm, Steel Reserve tallboy. Most of her gulp splattered across my face.

For Number's sake, I pretended I didn't care.

"Why would you hate this town?" I motioned to the backyard of the local swing club around us. "There's so much to do here―!"

Mid-swig, the woman slammed the half-full can on the table, as more of the tankard's contents erupted from its opening like clear, tepid lava. "Yeah, if you got money!" she interjected.

Saliva launched inadvertently ― or at least I'd hoped inadvertently ― into my eyes.

If she'd been a guy, I would've left 20 minutes prior. Due to the fact she had one extra hole in her body than men, I continued to torture myself.

Breath the flavor of a working landfill, she berated everything about Sin City, and all those who loved it. "Back home, I get $23 an hour for the same $9 an hour job I have here! I'm starving to death! I got evicted because I couldn't pay my rent, and I had to move in with my daughter." Jerking the beer can ― spilling yet more of its guts ― she motioned to the 20-something to my right.

"It's okay, ma'." The younger woman leaned in, consoling the distraught female ― who was obviously her mother. "You know I don't mind."

With that, the maternal figure wept.

"Ma', c'mon. Darren has a good job, and even with the kids, we'll always have a bed at the house for you―"

"I know; I know! It's just that your father ― God rest his sole ― is rolling over in his grave right now, watching you taking care of me!"

"Oh, ma'―"

"No. No! That isn't the way he would've wanted it. It wouldn't be this way, if he was still here."

Nervously, the progeny of the two glanced around, to ensure her distressed mother wasn't attracting attention. "Mom, Dada would've been proud of you―"

"Oh, dear God!" the woman clawed at the heavens, in a last ditch plea for divine intervention.

None came.

I have less game than a 97 year old midget eunuch, but somehow ― some fucking way ― I was able to grab hold of the rudder on this Titanic, and steer her to port. I'm still not certain how it happened, but ― at some point ― mom became horny, during her reach for the razorblades, and asserted she wanted large cock.

"Hugh's got a baby's arm holding an apple," a couple folks listening nearby promulgated.

Next I knew, five of us ― in procession, like some fucked-up Macy's Day Parade ― were off to a private room, where I was to service the basket case of a mom. During which, the other three attendees ― including said mother's daughter ― would be present.

"You wanna watch me fuck your mom?!" I inquired, as the full-figured gal closed the door to the accommodations, and her mother got undressed atop the bed behind me. Enormous, floppy tits dropped free, as the inebriated woman to my rear unhooked her bra.

"Mmm-hmm," the beautiful brunette responded, her nipples insanely salient through an underwire Maidenform, and a heavy sweater. "Mel and Jen said you have a huge cock, and my mom hasn't been properly fucked in years, probably."

To my rear, "mom" was now topless, and struggling to release her legs from a tangled tourniquet that was obviously her work slacks.

"Plus, it would be so hot to see!" the short-haired version of the bundle of neuroses behind me reached up, and gripped one of her heaving hangers. Dropping her gaze down my shirtless torso, to the protruding bulge beneath my pants, she commanded, "Let's see what you got for my mom."

Atop the bed, Mommy Dearest finally freed herself from her pants, and stood nude, smiling, and exceedingly proud of her recent accomplishment. A lightly-trimmed, brown bush between her thick, shapely thighs was now in full view. Unfortunately, frothy fermentation once again took hold, as she tripped and fell back on the mattress, too drunk to stand.

Complying with her daughter's demands, I unzipped my fly, and hung my meat out for all to see. Applying flavored lube, I disrobed, donned my fuck boots, and straddled "mom's" awaiting face.

Without hesitation, the perpetually perturbed 50-something worked my cock between lips smeared in three shades of lipstick, as her daughter watched from the edge of the bed.

The room became silent, everyone enraptured by what was certainly one of the most forbidden taboos.

The assembly line slave's lips were moist with lager, and her loins lusty with anticipation, as she brazenly slurped my shaft.

Gazing up, I queried, "You like watching your mom suck this heavy cock?"

"Yes," the trembling daughter breathed, pinching a massive, engorged nipple through her cable knit.

Smiling, I removed my throbbing thing from the elder woman's ravenous mouth. Dropping to my knees at the edge of the mattress, I spread her sumptuous thighs, and gorged on her palpitating clit.

In response, the factory serf moaned with ecstasy, and began to squirm, as if she might blow her load for her daughter to see. Continuing to service swollen cunt, I pumped my throbbing length, until it seemed time to bring the two together.

Standing, I pulled a condom from my sock, tore the wrapper open with my cracked and jagged teeth, and began to unfurl the latex tube over my stiffened schlong.

"I don't feel very good."

Outside of, "I'm Satan, and you're mine," they were the last five words I wanted to hear. Unfortunately, the mother in question sat up, adding an addendum to her initial assertion: "I have to go to the bathroom."

Freezing with fear, I rationalized there were only four reasons for using a bathroom: masturbation, pissing, shitting, and―

Scrambling for the wastebasket beside me, the woman missed her mark, and puked on the floor at my feet, as the other attendees gazed on in terror.

The room immediately reeked of hops, stomach bile, and tuna fish ― which the woman had obviously ingested for dinner.

Stunned like livestock at the end of an electrified prod, all I could do was stare. I'd been three seconds from launch, when the booster rocket shut down, and the fuel line was cut.

Everybody scattered for the emergency exits, after the place lost cabin pressure, and plummeted toward a watery grave.

Frantically donning life vests, the other attendees leapt off the capsizing ocean liner, before the iceberg could shred the hull of the ship.

Determined to salvage this listing Lusitania, I laid back atop the bed, exposing my healthy hard-on for the daughter — who'd remained in the room.

At that moment, my friend Adam wandered into the disturbing proceedings, and caught the younger woman staring at my dong. Eager to ignite the afterburners, he shattered the awkward silence. "Ever seen a cock that large, lady?"

Staring in terror, the breathy beauty replied, "No. No, I haven't."

Responding with an insidious grin, Adam queried, "Wanna touch it?"

The moment of truth.

The frightened female bent down, and began lightly stroking my scabbard, before announcing, "I― I have to check on my mom." With that, she stumbled from the room, as the last of the X-chromosomes evacuated the scene.

— authored by Hugh Mungus