Splooge Countdown

The following to be considered as grist for a comical, XXX rated video presentation:

Splooge Countdown!
(A Late Night Cable TV Reality Game Show)

[The lively Splooge Countdown game show musical theme cranks up as the lights come on illuminating the brightly colored set. The audience applauds enthusiastically as the curtains at the rear of the set part briefly and the host, a young man wearing a fashionable dark blazer over khaki slacks and a colorful shirt, bounds onto the middle of the set.]

"Welcome to this week's edition of Splooge Countdown!" I'm your host, Derek Fontane! We've got another dynamite show for you tonight as our three-time champion, Connie Kinkaid, attempts to stretch her winning streak to a fourth explosively sticky victory!"

"But before we ask Connie to join us on the set, let's introduce tonight's judges."

"Desiree, come on out!"

[A voluptuous blonde who appears to be in her late 20s emerges from the darkness behind the curtains at the rear of the set. She is wearing only stilettos, a pair of enormous gold hoop earrings and enough mascara for five women.]

"Welcome Desiree!"

[Desiree approaches the host and they kiss on both cheeks with pretentious European affectation.]

"No doubt many of you will recognize Desiree as a starlet who has appeared in many ... um ... special interest films."

Desiree laughs, "It's OK Derek. You can say it. I am a veteran of many triple X rated films."

"And I'm a big fan!" Derek admits as he pointedly ogles her rather obviously enhanced gazongas and fine, curvaceous bottom.

[The audience whoops, whistles and applauds enthusiastically as Desiree turns slowly to give everyone a good look at her porn princess assets. In proper porn actress fashion, she is shaved as smooth as a billiard ball.]

"Tonight Desiree will be joined by another star of the silver screen! Let's hear a big round of applause for our second judge, Hugh Mongus!"

[The curtains at the rear of the set part again as man who appears to be pushing 40 years of age bounds onto the stage. Like Desiree, his attire is extremely minimal, limited to a piece of grotesquely flashy jewelry -- a heavy gold medallion on a gold chain thick enough to be a bicycle chain. Feminine voices in the audience scream their delight as his oversized love muscle wags impressively to and fro while he jogs over to stand beside Derek and Desiree.]

"No need to explain how you landed leading man roles in the adult film industry," Derek wisecracks.

[Hugh Mongus laughs and looks a little sheepish.]

"Have you and Desiree ... ," Derek clears his throat and pretends to be lost for words, "you know ... ever .... appeared in films together?" Derek begins simulating coitus with his hands as if anyone had missed the true thrust of his question.

Hugh looks over at Desiree who responds on his behalf, "Yes, we've actually been in three films together but we've only ever had one sex scene with each other."

"That's right," Hugh Mongus interjects, "It was only a blow job but it was great and I'm really looking forward to another, more involved and extended love scene with Desiree."

[Desiree coos her agreement and approaches Hugh. They kiss passionately. Hugh fondles Desiree's lovely caboose as she enthusiastically strokes his baloney before dropping to her knees and giving Hugh some of the oral attention he had admitted receiving from her in front of a camera and sound crew once before. The audience erupts in appreciative whoops and applause.]

"OK, OK, you two," Derek says as he steps in between them to force them apart.

[Derek looks with mock horror at the foot long boner Hugh Mongus has acquired in consequence of Desiree's passionate kiss, soft wandering hands and highly experienced lips and tongue. He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.]

"In keeping with our tradition here on Splooge Countdown, our third judge will be chosen from our studio audience. Men and women willing to participate in tonight's show as judges have been advised of their rights and are all seated in the portion of the studio especially reserved for our Splooge Countdown judge candidates."

[The camera pans across a part of the studio that has been cordoned off and contains approximately 40 men and women who all rise to their feet and begin clapping enthusiastically as the lively Splooge Countdown musical theme begins to play. The studio lights flash as a digital display drops down from above, randomly flashing numbers before stopping abruptly.]

"Seat number 19!" Derek puts his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the Klieg lights as he peers into the audience looking to see who is in seat 19.

A feminine squeal is heard as the camera zooms in on a woman who appears to be in her early 30s. She makes her way to the aisle and enthusiastically descends the stairs to join Derek, Hugh and Desiree on the stage. She is wearing a University of Wisconsin sweatshirt over some shorts. She brushes her mousy brown hair from her face and giggles excitedly as she stands beside Derek, staring intently at Hugh's partially deflated but still awesome appendage.

"Hello, what is your name?" Derek asks.

"Sarah Paulson."

"Welcome, Sarah! Where are you from?"

"Racine."

"What do you do in Racine, Sarah?"

Sarah still appears to be distracted by Hugh's impressive semi and fails to respond to Derek's question.

Derek puts his hand under Sarah's chin and pulls her attention and gaze over his way.

"Over here, Sarah."

The audience laughs. Sarah puts her hands over her face, laughing and embarrassed.

"Sorry," she says.

"That's quite all right," Derek assures her.

"I work for Domino's Pizza."

"Are you married?"

"I was, but I divorced a couple of years ago."

"Have you watched our show before?"

"Oh yes. I never miss it. If I'm not going to be at home I get it on DVR."

"Good girl!" Derek quips, rolling his eyes as he glances toward the camera with a knowing look.

"OK then, you are familiar with our rules and traditions, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am!" Sarah replies.

"OK," Derek continues, "Then you know what our judges are required to wear as they perform their duties, right?"

Sarah laughs nervously. "Yes, I know" she stammers.

"And what is it the judges wear, Sarah?" Derek asks.

"Nothing at all?" Sarah replies hesitantly.

"That's exactly right! It's time for you to strip down to your official judge's attire! Are you ready to do that for us, Sarah?"

"I'm shaking!" Sarah exclaims, her voice quivering noticeably. "But I told myself I could do this if I was selected." She hesitates for a moment and then announces, "OK, yes, I'm ready!"

Derek, Desiree and Hugh Mongus step back, the lights dim as a garish pink spotlight envelopes Sarah and stripper-themed music wells up and fills the studio. Sarah steps over to the pole at the left edge of the stage begins to gyrate not too convincingly and peels her University of Wisconsin sweatshirt off over her head. The studio audience clap and stomp their feet encouraging Sarah's amateurish pole-dancing and strip show. She opens her bra allowing two milky white and surprisingly large breasts to spill out. The male voices in the crowd roar their approval. Sarah then kicks off her sandals and begins to unbutton her shorts. She pauses and clasps her hands over her face, obviously shy and unsure of herself. The crowd begins chanting "Take it off, Sarah! Take it off, Sarah! Take it off, Sarah!" Encouraged by the crowd, Sarah resumes her gyrations as she unbuttons her shorts and wriggles them off revealing light colored cotton bikini panties. She is unexpectedly small and tight below the waist for a girl with such voluptuous water wings. The crowd continues chanting, ever more loudly, "Take it off, Sarah! Take it off, Sarah! Take it off, Sarah!"

Now past the point of no return, Sarah pulls down her panties and tosses them aside. Perhaps in anticipation of appearing naked on national late night cable TV, Sarah's mound and its environs are shaved to smooth perfection. After a couple of naked swings around the pole she triumphantly clasps her hands together high over her head and shakes her white jugs as the music stops and the studio lights come back on.

A stunning, dark-skinned, long-legged young Asian woman wearing only stilettos and a Splooge Countdown baseball cap races onstage carrying a small duffel bag. She collects Sarah's discarded clothing, places the items in the duffel bag and immediately dashes back offstage.

"That'll do, Sarah! That'll do!" Derek reassures her. "The audience obviously thinks you are very hot!" Looking down at Hugh Mongus's renewed rigidity, Derek adds, "It would appear that Hugh also thinks you are really hot!"

Sarah shrieks with delight as she focuses her gaze on Hugh's gargantuan totem pole and begins to jump excitedly, her white melons bouncing wildly. Sarah does not seem to realize that Hugh received more oral "fluffing" courtesy of Desiree while he watched her amateur striptease and pole dancing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Derek says. "How tactless of me! I have not introduced you!"

"Sarah, this is Desiree."

Sarah and Desiree shake hands. The contrast between the voluptuous, platinum blonde, nude porn star and the naked Midwestern divorcee with mousy brown hair is striking.

"And this ... " Derek says as he gestures to Hugh's rigid salami, "is Hugh Mongus."

Hugh steps forward and extends his hand. Sarah reaches out to shake his hand but Hugh immediately takes her hand and places it on his profoundly conspicuous erection. Sarah erupts with nervous laughter but takes a firm grip and pumps Hugh's Oscar Mayer enthusiastically.

"Very pleased to meet you, Hugh" she says while never taking her eyes off his enormous nightstick. Hugh clasps his hands behind his back and takes a half step towards Sarah, making himself as accessible to her as he possibly can. Sarah seems unable to resist the temptation and begins stroking Hugh's gargantuan love muscle with both hands.

[Derek shakes his head as he gives another knowing look into the camera.]

"OK, then ... moving right along! I'm going to ask our three judges to please take their seats on the judge's bench," Derek commands imperiously as he gestures towards a red velvet couch a few feet behind where they have been standing. The three naked judges make their way to the couch, Sarah leading the way, pulling Hugh along behind her by his engorged vital statistic and Desiree close behind balancing on her stilettos and sashaying her delicious tush for maximum effect. Hugh takes his seat in the middle of the couch, flanked by Desiree on his left and Sarah who sits to his right but snuggles in so close that she is practically in his lap as she continues enthusiastically working his stick shift.

"Did you find second gear yet, Sarah?" Derek asks.

"Oh, yes, she's found it!" Hugh responds on her behalf as he wraps his right arm around Sarah and begins fondling her right breast. Desiree looks on with increasing interest.

The audience erupts.

The camera lingers on the judges' antics until Derek clears his throat and says, "Over here."

The camera turns to Derek who feigns frustration at his temporary loss of control over the show.

"It's time to welcome back our three-time champion, from Tulsa, Oklahoma, veteran cock tease, Connnieeee Kiinkaaaid and her husband Roger!" Derek's voice rings and trails off like the announcer at a prize fight.

[Again the studio lights dim, the musical theme blares and the spotlight shines on a young woman who emerges from the briefly parted curtains. She is blonde, petite and wearing what vaguely resembles a prize-fighter's hooded robe except that it is sequined, semi-transparent and barely long enough to cover her tight ass. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She is accompanied by a slightly pudgy man in his mid-30s with thinning hair. He is dressed like a boxer's ringside coach. The word "Coach" is emblazoned across the front of his T-shirt stretched tightly across his pudginess.]

"Welcome back, Connie! Welcome back, Roger!"

The couple take turns shaking Derek's hand.

"For those of you who may have missed our last three Splooge Countdown matches," Derek intones, "Connie is 22 years old and is studying to be a dental hygienist. She and Roger have been married a little over one year. Roger is a certified public accountant."

"You're looking lovely, as usual, Connie," Derek observes. The audience evidence their concurrence with some wolf whistles and whooping.

"Are you ready to win another $50,000 in tonight's Splooge Countdown?"

Connie hollers "I'm ready!" and jumps back and forth like a prize fighter. Her husband, Roger, lifts one of her hands over her head in anticipation of another sticky victory.

"What do you think, Roger? Is Connie going to coax the splooge out of tonight's contestant before time runs out on the Splooge Countdown clock like she did the last three?"

"I'm counting on it!" Roger replies, apparently unfazed that his lovely young wife is about to strip down to her birthday suit and employ her sexual talents to cause yet another stranger to spill his baby batter onto or into her on national late night cable TV. "Another $50,000 will definitely come in handy."

"You've been a good sport through it all, Roger. I have to give you that much," Derek observes. "You kept your poise as Connie made surprisingly quick work of our prior four-time champion, Sam Hayden, causing him to shoot his load in just under 7 minutes with her expert combination of manual massaging and some deep-throating that would have made Linda Lovelace proud. And, although it took her a bit longer, she was also successful in finishing off her first challenger the week before last in just under 12 minutes through more of her exquisite and impressive deep-throat attentions even if she did swallow nearly all of the evidence. I have to say, however, that I thought you looked a little uncomfortable last week when Connie elected to take the Jamaican challenger up her koochy not even two minutes into the match and rode him enthusiastically for the next 17 minutes before finally finishing him off with less than 60 seconds left on the clock."

Roger stammers momentarily before Connie steps forward to speak into the microphone to defend her honor and her tactics. "Roger and I agreed that I can do whatever it takes to make sure I get the job done before the clock runs out."

"Yeah, we agreed," Roger says a little hesitantly. "But I won't deny it, I was kind of hoping she'd get the job done last week by giving him only another good, old-fashioned hand-buffed spit shine."

"As I recall," Derek continues as Roger begins to wince, anticipating Derek's next remark, "it seemed to me that Connie's train pulled into the station ... twice ... and rather loudly at that before last week's contestant from Jamaica finally reached his own sticky destination. Seemed pretty obvious to me and everyone in the studio audience that Connie enjoyed the hell out of the oversized ... I mean, the stiff challenge presented by last week's Jamaican challenger."

"Yeah, that was a little unsettling," Roger admits "but I know she loves me."

Connie gives Roger a big hug and a kiss.

The audience coos, "Aaaawwwww!"

"Alright then, let's bring out tonight's challenger. Hailing from Easton, Pennsylvania, Daaaaaviid Thooommpssoon and his lovely wife and trainer, Julie!

[The studio lights dim yet again, the Splooge Countdown musical theme blasts the audience and the spotlight shines on a man with dark hair and an athletic build who emerges from behind the curtains. Like Connie, he is wearing what resembles a prize-fighter's hooded robe except that his is more traditional, masculine and long enough to conceal his assets. David is accompanied by his wife, Julie, a tall, thin woman with shoulder length dark hair and an overbite. She appears to be about 30 and, like Roger, is dressed like a boxer's ringside coach. The word "Coach" is emblazoned across the front of her T-shirt that looks several sizes too big for her.]

"Welcome, David! Welcome Julie!"

David looks nervous but Julie looks terrified. They timidly take turns shaking Derek's hand.

"David works as a high school history teacher. He and Julie have two children. Julie, I understand, is a stay-at-home mom."

"David, you've seen the show before, right?"

"Yes."

"You understand the rules, don't you David? They're pretty simple and straightforward. There are only three."

"First, you must remain on the bed, flat on your back."

"Second, you must remain accessible to Connie and allow her to do with you as she sees fit."

"Third, if you attempt to squirm or push Connie away our 3-judge panel will sound the warning buzzer. Three warnings and you forfeit the match to Connie."

"If you manage to hang on to your load until the 20-minute Splooge Countdown clock reaches zero and the buzzer sounds, you win $50,000 and the right to come back next week to meet our next feminine challenger who, you might be interested to know, is a stripper from Caracas."

[The TV monitors in the studio flash the photo of a fearsomely sexy Latina wearing only stilettos and some glitter mascara. She is partially bent over with her hands on her knees, looking over her shoulder at the camera, her eyes and pink parts beckoning. The audience erupts in applause and a cacophony of wolf whistles. David looks hopeful as a concerned grimace creeps across Julie's face.]

Derek looks intently into the camera and explains that "David has been followed closely for the last 24 hours by our Splooge Countdown observers who have issued a certificate verifying that David has not been desplooginated for at least 24 hours. So David should soon be "up" [Derek emphasizes his choice of words by making quotation marks with this fingers] and ready for Connie's challenge."

"Are you ready, David?"

David looks Connie over and says "As ready as I'll ever be, Derek."

Turning back to Connie, Derek says, "From your three prior appearances on our show, Connie, you know that before we get tonight's match underway, Dr. Phil will sexamine you to ensure you didn't sneak any splooge with you onto the stage tonight."

"I'm ready for my sexamination, Derek."

[The lights dim again and stage smoke rises from a hole that opens in the middle of the stage. Slowly, a familiar looking bald man wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches rises from below. He is standing beside a large round bed covered with leopard print sheets.]

"How do you do, Connie?" Dr. Phil asks politely as he pulls on his white latex gloves.

"I'm fine and ready to win some more money!" Connie announces confidently.

"I'm sure you are. Let's make sure you are splooge free before we start the match."

Without being prompted, Connie steps out of her flimsy sequined see-through robe to appreciative applause and wolf whistles from the audience. Except for her fingernail polish, she has nothing on. She is petite but exquisite. Her intimate hair style is a very short, trimmed, Chaplinesque cut.

Plopping down on her back onto the bed she spreads wide for Dr. Phil's sexamination. After checking Connie carefully, briefly aiming an intense bluish light from a flashlight sized instrument into each of her three principal orifices, Dr. Phil stands up, clears his throat and renders his expert medical opinion, "She's clean! She's splooge free."

"OK, then, it's time to get tonight's Splooge Countdown underway! Are you ready judges?"

The camera returns to the three naked judges on the red velvet couch. Sarah, although possibly listening to the introductions and the rules, continues slowly and very deliberately stroking Hugh's kielbasa as Hugh leans back, his knees now in different time zones, obviously enjoying Sarah's painstaking and loving attentions. Desiree watches the show beside her with some amusement.