Post by Admin on May 19, 2011 9:58:53 GMT -5
Let’s Fuck Taylor Swift
The first chapter of a short story, written by simpletactician.
“Do you think she shaves, trims, or goes dirty kitty?” Beth-Renee pondered to her girlfriend Marina. The early June day in Marina’s room was particularly hot, and both girls were sopping wet with sweat. Beth-Renee’s wife-beater clung to her skin like an awkward spandex, making her abnormally shaped nipples more than a blatantly obvious flaw. The lesbian girl would’ve been more embarrassed, had she been with someone who hadn’t motor-boated her more than once. Marina didn’t look up to answer the question Beth-Renee had posed, she was still gently scrawling away at the page of slightly-too-ripped-to-use-for-schoolwork-but-still-good-for-drawing notebook paper. Beth-Renee poked her head over her girlfriends shoulder on the bed they were sharing, and squealed with radical joy.
“You weren’t supposed to peek,” Marina bitched “I wanted to surprise you…”
“It looks just like her! Oh my God! Sugarlisp, you’re amazing.” Marina smiled slightly as Beth-Renee cooed over the poorly scribbled drawing of her giving cunnilingus to Taylor Swift. It had recently been an all-consuming fantasy for Beth-Renee to touch lips with the legendary swift, and Beth-Renee didn’t care which lips she was kissing or which lips she was kissing her with.
Reaching sloppily across her bed to her nightstand, Marina grabbed her new set of duct tape and stripped a piece off and slapped it to her forearm. The girl’s entire room was covered in duct tape, almost like wrinkling wallpaper. Beth-Renee saw her girlfriend as an artistic genius, comparable to Mozart, or Kanye West, or something.
Beth-Renee peeled off her sticky shirt to reveal her unfortunate breasts. Marina looked at them and blinked twice, a very subtle tick, indicating that she was aware of the disgust that she felt. However, Marina threw on her poker face and kissed her girlfriend anyway.
“Let me close the door…” Marina said seductively, as she crept to her door. Feeling the securing click her door knob makes as it completely closes reassured both girls. Marina casually turned the radio on as she walked over to her lady-friend to have almost-sex (despite the fact that both of them thought that it was actually sex. How silly.)
“I’M SORRY MY SWEET!” Beth-Renee bellowed as she pulled a sheet over her breasts. A puzzled Marina nudged her head to her right. “Can’t you hear?! M-My lover feels betrayed…”
The Story of Us played on the radio, both mocking and assisting Marina. You can never have sex during a Taylor Swift song! Beth-Renee would whine, It’s like wiping your ass with pages from a Bible.
Figuring that Taylor Swift time was now, and everything else could wait, Marina flopped on her floor, leaning her back against her bed. She wasn’t in the mood for touching boobs right now, anyway.
Bobbing her head along to the music, Beth-Renee cooed at the gentle whines of her sweet Swift. Marina, on the other hand, chomped aggressively on her fingernails and slapped a strip of duct tape to her other arm. T Swift wasn’t that great, and Marina much preferred Beyonce.
The song ended, and Beth-Renee was now wiping tears from her eyes. Preparing to embrace her girlfriend and touch boobs, Beth-Renee leaned over the edge of her bed before immediately being struck in the ears with a bolt of pure destiny.
“And to win the free tickets to the Taylor Swift concert in Biodome next month, all you have to do is be caller 17!”
Processing things at a level much higher than the average person, Beth-Renee rotated her body in a lightning fast manner, striking Marina in the face with her knee. Reaching for her phone in slow motion, Beth-Renee pounded in the numbers to the radio station like a deranged crackhead. Marina smacked the ground with a thud, but still managed to get her phone out to weakly dial the number to the radio station.
“Oh, sorry there… You’re caller 12.”
Beth-Renee screamed and fell to the ground next to Marina, smacking her head against the plush carpet as a masochistic punishment for failing her Swift based mission.
“Congratulations, you’re caller 17!”
The radio mocked Beth-Renee. Marina bit her lip at the busy signal she was listening to. Maybe if she hadn’t been kicked in the skull, she’d have had better reflexes to help her beloved girlfriend. Oh well, some other bitch can go see Taylor Swift, the tickets probably weren’t for any good seats anyway.
“I… I have to rape Taylor Swift.” Beth-Renee uttered with cryptic seriousness. Marina brushed it off as another fanatic comment. Beth Renee pulled a crumpled printout picture of Taylor Swift from the pocket of her shorts and licked it with a heavy amount of saliva. Lifting her shirt slightly, Beth-Renee slid the spitty picture upon her stomach and up to her neck.
“How can we get tickets to that concert?”
And for a frightening split second, Marina saw just how serious Beth-Renee was about the vaginal things she wanted to do to Taylor Swift.
The first chapter of a short story, written by simpletactician.
“Do you think she shaves, trims, or goes dirty kitty?” Beth-Renee pondered to her girlfriend Marina. The early June day in Marina’s room was particularly hot, and both girls were sopping wet with sweat. Beth-Renee’s wife-beater clung to her skin like an awkward spandex, making her abnormally shaped nipples more than a blatantly obvious flaw. The lesbian girl would’ve been more embarrassed, had she been with someone who hadn’t motor-boated her more than once. Marina didn’t look up to answer the question Beth-Renee had posed, she was still gently scrawling away at the page of slightly-too-ripped-to-use-for-schoolwork-but-still-good-for-drawing notebook paper. Beth-Renee poked her head over her girlfriends shoulder on the bed they were sharing, and squealed with radical joy.
“You weren’t supposed to peek,” Marina bitched “I wanted to surprise you…”
“It looks just like her! Oh my God! Sugarlisp, you’re amazing.” Marina smiled slightly as Beth-Renee cooed over the poorly scribbled drawing of her giving cunnilingus to Taylor Swift. It had recently been an all-consuming fantasy for Beth-Renee to touch lips with the legendary swift, and Beth-Renee didn’t care which lips she was kissing or which lips she was kissing her with.
Reaching sloppily across her bed to her nightstand, Marina grabbed her new set of duct tape and stripped a piece off and slapped it to her forearm. The girl’s entire room was covered in duct tape, almost like wrinkling wallpaper. Beth-Renee saw her girlfriend as an artistic genius, comparable to Mozart, or Kanye West, or something.
Beth-Renee peeled off her sticky shirt to reveal her unfortunate breasts. Marina looked at them and blinked twice, a very subtle tick, indicating that she was aware of the disgust that she felt. However, Marina threw on her poker face and kissed her girlfriend anyway.
“Let me close the door…” Marina said seductively, as she crept to her door. Feeling the securing click her door knob makes as it completely closes reassured both girls. Marina casually turned the radio on as she walked over to her lady-friend to have almost-sex (despite the fact that both of them thought that it was actually sex. How silly.)
“I’M SORRY MY SWEET!” Beth-Renee bellowed as she pulled a sheet over her breasts. A puzzled Marina nudged her head to her right. “Can’t you hear?! M-My lover feels betrayed…”
The Story of Us played on the radio, both mocking and assisting Marina. You can never have sex during a Taylor Swift song! Beth-Renee would whine, It’s like wiping your ass with pages from a Bible.
Figuring that Taylor Swift time was now, and everything else could wait, Marina flopped on her floor, leaning her back against her bed. She wasn’t in the mood for touching boobs right now, anyway.
Bobbing her head along to the music, Beth-Renee cooed at the gentle whines of her sweet Swift. Marina, on the other hand, chomped aggressively on her fingernails and slapped a strip of duct tape to her other arm. T Swift wasn’t that great, and Marina much preferred Beyonce.
The song ended, and Beth-Renee was now wiping tears from her eyes. Preparing to embrace her girlfriend and touch boobs, Beth-Renee leaned over the edge of her bed before immediately being struck in the ears with a bolt of pure destiny.
“And to win the free tickets to the Taylor Swift concert in Biodome next month, all you have to do is be caller 17!”
Processing things at a level much higher than the average person, Beth-Renee rotated her body in a lightning fast manner, striking Marina in the face with her knee. Reaching for her phone in slow motion, Beth-Renee pounded in the numbers to the radio station like a deranged crackhead. Marina smacked the ground with a thud, but still managed to get her phone out to weakly dial the number to the radio station.
“Oh, sorry there… You’re caller 12.”
Beth-Renee screamed and fell to the ground next to Marina, smacking her head against the plush carpet as a masochistic punishment for failing her Swift based mission.
“Congratulations, you’re caller 17!”
The radio mocked Beth-Renee. Marina bit her lip at the busy signal she was listening to. Maybe if she hadn’t been kicked in the skull, she’d have had better reflexes to help her beloved girlfriend. Oh well, some other bitch can go see Taylor Swift, the tickets probably weren’t for any good seats anyway.
“I… I have to rape Taylor Swift.” Beth-Renee uttered with cryptic seriousness. Marina brushed it off as another fanatic comment. Beth Renee pulled a crumpled printout picture of Taylor Swift from the pocket of her shorts and licked it with a heavy amount of saliva. Lifting her shirt slightly, Beth-Renee slid the spitty picture upon her stomach and up to her neck.
“How can we get tickets to that concert?”
And for a frightening split second, Marina saw just how serious Beth-Renee was about the vaginal things she wanted to do to Taylor Swift.
