(It will be your last.)

Terrible things can happen to good people. I unfold before you this tragedy of evil lips oozing, emitting slurping sounds of rancid hunger as I tip my tri-skull cap and fade away.

Bufford.

He always hated his name.

People always repeated it twice to make sure they heard it right. Maybe, someday, someone would share his name, but for now it was a whole other story.

Bufford walked out on the town looking for love. He wondered around dressed up like a blue ribbon winner holding the victory cup. His hair was spiked his tan was paid for. Women strutted by with flickering eyes. Their many curves shifted and bounced. Occasionally one of them looked up as Bufford looked their bodies up and down.

The city lights shined, and oh, what those lights did for a woman’s behind. Sometimes Bufford observed numerous body curves like someone else might admire a piece of fine art. His imagination kept him so very well entertained as beautiful panty lines accented round behinds that switched off snapshots through the crowds. Yes he was a pervert but preferred to be called a connoisseur in the squirtathon of love.

Bufford had his shopping bag in hand and merely leaned back to talk to himself, “That is one fine looking woman approaching you.”

He grew a little nervous at the sight of sexy legs covered in silk. She walked tall in that red body dress; what would he even say? This one was out of his league.

She flipped her blonde locks over her shoulder then put a cigarette between the biggest, juiciest lips he ever wanted to slobber on and asked, ”Do you have a light baby?”

Bufford pointed to the lamp post, “There’s one.”

She giggled like a woman does and slowly placed her cigarette in her mouth again. Then she pressed the tip against the globe and sucked until her cheeks showed the outlines of her teeth. Bufford couldn’t blink when she laughed and snorted like a pig.

He zoned in on her compressed cleavage bulging upward from a well placed V. ‘Oh well, ‘he thought, ‘So she had plenty of character.’

She was tall and sexy in that red body dress. It fit her like a tube sock, clinging to every part of her alluring anatomy. She looked classy like a packaged beauty queen put together in a wonderous way that made her utters gleem under the nighttime lights. Bufford pondered why baby cows weren’t following her around; he would just have to do. But only the darkest cavern of the mind could conjure up his fate. Bufford followed with blindness that he’d soon regret.

2

They talked a bit, conversing in the basic form.

“Hi. I’m Bufford.”

“Bufford?” The babe did a double take and blinked her eyes a couple of times.

“Yeah I know. I hate to tell you my last name.”

“What is it?”

He threw a little Airplane humor out there to block the way.

”It’s the name that comes after the first name but don’t worry about that right now.”

She laughed and snorted, “What?”

Bufford laughed too, “What’s your name?”

“Cindy,” she said, “Are you going to give me a light?”

Bufford reached in his pocket. He kept digging deeper around his lemons and grew somewhat distracted when he then remembered, ‘Oh my god. I don’t smoke.’

So where did he get this lighter? Whoa, that wasn’t a lighter; if it was then it sure tickled when he touched it.

“Are you going to let me use that to light my cigarette?”

Bufford chuckled, “You can use it all you want, but you’ll probably just break off the end of your cigarette.”

Cindy laughed and winked, “That’d be okay.” Then she licked her plump ruby lips.

Bufford wanted to puke hamstrings as her snorting laughter returned. He was about to walk off, about to toss it all to the wind and let it fly away, but the sight of her cleavage drew his gaze back in and made him somehow muster the strength to hold on.

Cindy stopped and looked at him. The look in her eyes spun him through infinity and into a world of nipples and tits; it was the look of sudden passion, the look of uncontrolled desire. Her green eyes searched him, and she said it right there. She seemed to take the thought right out of his head.

“Let’s go to my place,” she said.

Bufford tightened his fingers on the bench, trepidation raising sweat on his face. He looked down then back up and arose quickly… so he carried his shopping bag in front. "Uhm....okay," he said.

3

As Bufford slammed the door of her rusty Yugo, “This is all happening really fast,” he said then thought of his naked image in the full view mirror at home, his handle bars puffed out. He just didn’t look right in his under shorts anymore.

She winked as she started the little red car, “Would you like to stop? Do you want to go away from me?” She licked her plump ruby lips and gave a pouty look. ”I really want you to stay.”

Bufford went into a trance, mesmerized by Cindy’s glistening ruby lips. “Uhm… uh okay.”

“Would you like to think about it longer?”

“No… not at all… enough of that madness. I’m good.”

The friction of his freshly washed undershorts felt wonderful.

4

When they made it to her place Bufford was in love. As he stepped into the doorway, she yanked him through by the wrist and slammed the door. She grabbed his shopping bags and threw them across the room.

“You still haven’t told me your last name? You’re not leaving here unless you do.”

“Oh fu…” he said as she snatched him by the face and ran her tongue so far down his throat that he thought it might exit some other, much lower, unmentionable, part of his anatomy.

“Let’s pass on that for now,” he said as she pressed her fleshy chest against him.

They passionately traced one another’s gum lines with the tips of their yearning tongues when he decided to just do it. He unclasped her bra, and what seemed like a the impact of a bus suddenly knocked him backwards into the wall. He slid down to the floor battling the turbulent to and fro of light and darkness. The things were massive as far as he could tell. His vision blurred, but he heard her there breathing inside the fuzzy scene like an uncontrollably horny, big breasted beast.

“Wait a minute,” he said.

But she grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him to the bedroom, frying his back on the carpet as he shouted, “Just give me a few seconds!”

5

As Bufford’s vision began to clear, he flipped his arm around. He couldn’t make it out at first, but something was caught in his watch band. It looked like yellow fuzz but felt like cobwebs. He kept flapping his arm around trying to get rid of it. “Damn it.” His head wobbled, and he scooted his butt against the wall. Then he saw that the blond wig. He panicked, and his heart lost its rhythm. There she stood over him sweating, breathing and yearning for his love… and bald all over! Those plump, suddenly disgusting, ruby lips puckered from a cue-ball head. Darkly penciled eyebrows arched with fantasizing insanity as her slimy tongue went round and round with raunchy spit strings chasing sloppily behind.

“Wait!” Bufford screamed. “I think I made a mistake!”

“I should have known!” he shouted, “The snorts should have given you away.”

Buttons ricocheted off walls as each earth-quaking pound of ground-pounding flesh busted free from her Supersonic-Girdletonic dress. Then her eyes grew eerily sinister.

“What’s the matter lover?”

There she stood waiting in an exploding instant; layered folds rose and lowered with her every breath as Bufford zoom-focused on the chaffing of her prickly inner thighs. Her tremendous stomach jiggled, raised and lowered on every breath…in like suction…out like a wind storm.

His soul sank into a bubbling pit of pitch that stuck him up inside himself; he couldn’t move…paralyzed, mesmerized and doomed!

Behind her, hanging on the wall, were over-sized, unsanitary, rubber things that were shaped like organs he didn’t want to be forced to hold in his sweaty hands.

“N…N…No!”

Sweat beads squished out for freedom as she raised her floppy arms overhead. From the center of it all, crept scraggly black arm pit hairs which twisted and wiggled like the vile legs of tarantulas.

“Hee, hee, hee,” came a fiendish laugh as she wiggled her fingers high in the air. Her heavy breathing now sounded slow yet manic as those wiggling fingers reached in the direction of his shriveling manhood. Then the doom swept over him like a death shroud.

“I’m sorry! I think I have made a mistake,” Bufford shouted. But she raised her wriggling fingers again. Her mocking sinister laugh burned into his brain this time, “Hee, hee, hee.”

She kept licking her lips, her slimy tongue slurping around in that vile network of spit strings.

“No!” he pleaded again, but her bulging abdomen moved closer to his horrified face.

Mammoth breasts hung like distorted blobs with ornamental nipples sprouting hairs that seemed to be reaching for his wilting manhood. He shrank in her rising shadow on the wall.

He folded in on himself under the putrid fumes of rotting fish. The haunting compilation of pubic hairs attacked his reality, as more sweat beads escaped from her layered folds. Madness spun in her frenzied green stare, and Bufford lost sight of the world around him.

“Please, no!”

But she straddled him and forced him down. He lay defeated beneath her, ensnared in a net of inescapable dread.

“Please, please…no,” he begged again, but she remained toward above him, pulsing for his love like some alien sex drone. The chaffing of her prickly inner thighs sickened him. Tufts of horny fur reached out for him, splitting open like the hot pink mouth of a monster. It squished, and it slurped as its lips spread wide to reveal a beckoning toothless carnage of sloppy goo.

It drooled and slurped, as excretions dripped on Bufford’s heaving chest. There was a dead whale in there; he gagged at the fishy, rotten smell of it as she slapped him across the face with a ten inch vibrating dildo.

Stunned.

He held his breath, and his cheeks ballooned up as the monster opened wide above his awe-struck face. The beast spat flatulent gusts as Bufford gagged again; his toes spread wide then words just exploded from his freshly bludgeoned mouth.

“Last name is Corpuscle! Bufford T. Corpuscle!”

Engulfed.

An old man shit himself.

A baby cried… a cop died.

But no one heard his muffled screams.