I. Invisible Criminal

“Caution, approaching platform.”

We’re nothing but invisibles now

Strangers on a train, that clichéd rift

Spun up, up, up in far off Hollywood lights

With those backstage sets and the rain machines

Dropping watery gems into silver tears

The real fucking tale

Behind those Westside Blues

Where you’re a Maria and I’m a Tony

Just star-crossed fuckups miscast and misplaced

Cuz this ain’t no Broadway sketch with

Lyrical grace and heavy themes to think

So let’s just face the fucking truth of it all… I bear more resemblance to Ralph Ellison’s man, slip sliding through life’s invisible shadows. I’m the Twomps’ pitiable ‘gangbanger’ with those tabloid crimes buzz buzzing in his head like the hornet’s nest. And you? You’re the little hood rat that could. Wild. Bohemian. Viscerally real. Yet another shade of tragic blonde beauty that’s reached her limit tryin’na save a wretched soul that doesn’t wanna be saved. Which I think cuts you deep. Cuz it’s not just me that needs the damn savin’.

And yet, you’ve got claws in me that won’t let go. That say we shouldn’t be these invisible strangers in this cigar tube, hurtling both nowhere and everywhere, all at once. Past. Present. Unknowable future.

Fuck.

I don’t say a damn thing though. I’m just a coward in the night click clackin’ on the tracks. I'm no normal reclamation project that can be puzzled back together with duct tape and hot glue. I doubt you are either. So I ask myself this, can a sane motherfucker risk the white man's MAD by sticking round?

Stickin’ together?

Keep tryin’ to keep

Tryin’, but

Fallin’ and

Failin’?

Shit.

We’re emotional warheads,

Two foreign bodies with

Rusted out nukes

Primed to launch.

And… I’m tempeted as shit

Crazy as shit,

right? Aren’t I?

Aren’t we, Jalen?

Monster? 

Fuck.

Master control straight fails

Missile bursts into sky.

Just the one though,

Cuz I welcome the release of

A blinding light show

Raining down on my world.

“Stand clear, doors opening.”

You pause before getting off and I hope for just a second you turn round. Yea. You. Not her. You. Fucking Bubble Gum Blondie. My tiny Oaktown Aphrodite with the double bubble addiction. The roughly edged girl who drops blunt scathing truths bombs and electric love. Shit surprises me, even as the monster inside rages just below to give it up already, to burn away, paint myself into scene and fuck any hot piece of tail I stumble across rather than waste time worry'n over a bitter reminder. 

But you shrug and step off. And it’s kind of ironic that the backpack you’re wearing is the Disney Beast. Except, that isn’t quite accurate though, seeing as I’ve sure as fuck got no noble dandy with a heart a gold lurkin’ in my bones. And I hate that sappy shit anyway. Hard to believe stories ever end up like some molasses overdose fairytale when you grow up in a placed called the Murder Dubs. Happy endings ain’t for you and me.

Are they?

I look down at my sketchpad.

It’s empty.

Well.

Empty of sanity.

All I’ve done is drawn villains. Him. Me. Fucking. Drinking. Getting high. Popping X. Straight fucking the nights away on a cocktail of all three. Retrograde. The Westside tragedy self-medicating on drugs n’ pussy. Disappointment, ghosts will cry.

“Hey,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear, hand on my thigh. “Remember me?”

The monster growls and I let him out.

II. Basic Instinct

Tiled floor. Knee high socks.

Fine ass.

Yoga pants.

Rational thought shimmers in fragmented blurs, mostly overridden by the panting bundle of hot teen pussy in front of me. I push it away.

Her legs are spread wide, black tights pulled just below her soft curvy ass. An oversized Raider’s T teases hieroglyphic tattoos tracing down her slender spine. She’s staring back at me in the mirror of a Bart station restroom, hunched over the sink on tiptoes, a tantalizing image of uninhibited teen lust. The punk ass motherfucker tucked deep inside me beats at the walls, but he’s the one who let me out and damn if I’m not gonna enjoy my time like always. He’d prattle on about this little Asian number being worthy to paint. Froth over her elegant lines and symmetrical face. Hah. Pussy. All that matters is giving this bitch exactly what her eyes were begging for that first time. What she’s begging for now.

Creamy arousal drips from dark pink lips as she strums a zebra painted nail back and forth.

“Come on,” she whines, reminding me of the rich, spoiled daddy’s girls who drive around in sleek Escalades wearing fake plastic smiles. “I want it. I want it, I want it, I want it.”

I frown, suddenly annoyed. “The fuck could a rich little china doll like you want from me?”

“Your fat black cock inside my teeny tiny Asian pussy,” she begs. Her pupils are dilating wide and her nostrils are flaring. “I’ve wanted it since I first saw you all those months ago on the BART. My friends said you were a killer. Or a gangbanger. Maybe just a drug dealer. Some story about a dead rich girl found in your apartment. Daughter of like, some Russian oligarch or something.”

I slap my heavy shaft against her delicious cheeks and pull away when she pushes, desperately trying to get me to stab into her.

“And were you scared?”

She moans. “No. Well. Maybe? I guess? Just a little. But, I dunno.” She shivers. “It made me wet. Gawd. I’ve never been so wet. And then you got that erection. On the Bart. Because of me. I’ve never been so embarrassingly horny. Wanna know something filthy and wrong? I had Blair fuck me on Becka’s bed that night after she left for work. I always make him use a condom, but…” Her face burns red and she chews her bow-shaped lips. “I wanted her boyfriend’s nasty cum swimming inside me. Leaking into my panties when she got home.”

“Aren’t you a twisted little cunt,” I laugh, teasing my throbbing dick in her corrupted pussy.

“It wasn’t enough,” she continues. “He’s too…” She gropes for a word. Can’t find it.

“Vanilla? Boring? Safe? A tiny dicked white boy?”

“Boring,” she chooses. “Couldn’t get me off.” She looks up, eyes sizzling. “I even fucked Rayna’s dad in his Porsche. Had him fuck me in the ass. Gawd I’m such a bitch. I need you!” She wiggles her hips and manages to catch the head of my cock at her messy entrance.

I spank her. “I told you to be patient. I like to play with my damn food first. But if you’re good, maybe I’ll take the edge off. I'm real nice like that.”

That shuts her up real good and quick.

I pull her tanned cheeks apart and marvel at the clean, puckered little star of flesh above her smooth pussy. Money and vanity made the world taste good. And assholes like this were made for cock. I tell her as much and she moans.

I grin.

And wet a finger with her warm juices, slowly scraping her tight insides.

“Holy fucking gawd,” she grunts.

I push that finger against her tight little star and she squeals like a pig.

“Wait,” she whimpers, but not soon enough. I bury my middle finger inside her hot dark tunnel, all the way to the knuckle. Her head snaps up, eyes squeezing shut. I hold it there for a moment before I move, slowly sawing it in and out. “I don’t…”

“You want me to stop?” I pause, fingertip teasing the edges of her tight ring.

Her breathing is raspy and her hands clench the edge of the sink.

I push slowly back in and she squeals again.

“Didn’t you say you always wanted to fuck a criminal? Release that inner whore that’s been screaming to be let out. Live out some real good Bonnie n’ Clyde shit. Rob some banks. Fuck on a pile of cash and coke. Get all your holes filled at the same time and live out some seedy pornographic fantasies. Maybe grow a taste for killin’.” I slap her ass a few times with my cock. “Well, this is the first step, doll. This is how killers fuck.” I laugh at the little white lie. Jalen’s no killer. Never was. That blonde bitch couldn’t handle her drugs and ruined his life. My life. Not his fault really, the poor little sap. His kooky religious granny had a point about white girls. But me? Hah. Mum is the motherfuckin’ word of the day. I’m no snitch. Even if the only person to rat to is Jalen.

My little Asian doll whimpers. Shakes her head. Halfheartedly. Her hips have started pushing back against my finger, even if her brain hasn’t fully realized it yet.

I spank her again and her ass jiggles like prison Jell-o. Fuck. Only the devil could create a nymphomaniac like this.

“Yes,” she mumbles.

“What?”

“I want it.”

“Want what?”

“I want to fuck like an untamed beast,” she cries out. Her eyes are wild in the mirror and fuck if I’ve seen another bitch so suited to a Raider’s beanie. “I’m tired of being good, sick living an outward image of perfection and grace. Kimiko… little Kimmy… daddy’s little angel. Dutiful, obedient daughter. She’s going to medical school, you know. She’s top of her class. Neurosurgery.”

By the end of her little temper tantrum she’s seething. “Fuck me. Fuck me anywhere, dammit. Fill me with fat black dick! I’ll be whatever you want. Your dirty little slut. Your sex-crazed freak. Your murderous Bonnie. Doesn’t matter. Just fuck me up. Fuck my pussy up!”

I laugh. Hard. “You’re one crazy bitch, ya’know?” And a bit like poor Jalen, fighting back for control, even now. Yea, Jalen. She’s got a bit of Jekyll and Hyde to her too, doesn’t she? But who’s the real monster, huh? And do they really exist, or is that another lie we tell ourselves? You can’t save those who don’t wanna be saved, kid. So keep quiet and enjoy this. I know I will.

I pull my finger out and push my cock inside her quivering little cunt, hard and fast and deep. Her rioting hole is hotter than hell and almost painfully snug. I almost pop early when I bump against her womb.

“Shit, doll. That’s one tiny little pussy. Must be that Asian blood. Goddamn.” I pull back and her walls cling to me like honeyed glue. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” I grunt, massaging her soft ass.

“Yea, baby. Take me to hell,” she breathes.

I freeze. “The fuck did you say?” A shadowed image of pink fills the mirror in front of me. It shrugs silhouetted shoulders. Shakes its head, disappointment shimmering through the glass.

“In what?” I growl, rutting savagely inside the drooling teenage pussy for emphasis with hard, deep stokes, my balls swinging upward to slap her engorged clit. “Disappointed in what?”

“Fucking gaaawd,” is the moaned response from an accented voice I don’t particularly want. “Who the hell is disappointed? I’m not. Fuck me like one of those whores daddy always likes to bring home,” she demands.

“Fuck you,” I whisper, ignoring the teen for a moment. “Fuck you all.”

I don’t even know who I’m talking to now, but it doesn’t really matter. The scalding pussy shivering and squeezing around me with mind-numbing pleasure does. I swivel my hips during a particularly deep stroke and she clenches like a vice.

“Soooo gooood,” she giggles and gurgles deliriously. “You fucking beast. Make me burn.”

I slide my hands up under her thigh length Raider’s shirt and palm perfectly enhanced tits. They’re slick with sweat and feverishly hot.

“You’re already burning, doll.”

“Make me burn more,” she begs, super tight pussy clinging to my shaft like a second skin as I slowly pull out.

I pop free, shiver because of the insane temp drop, and spank her. “You want a little baby?” I ask, holding my bulbous head against her creaming slit. “You want me to hose down these slutty little walls and give you a tiny, criminal baby?”

“He’d kill me,” she blubbers.

“Who?” I chuckle.

“Boyfriend. Daddy first probably.”

I laugh harder. “Oh, you’re a nasty little number, aren’t you? How much cock do you get on the side?”

Her hips bounce back, skewering me on her again. Her answer is drowned in blubbering moans and staccato obscenities.

I give her the ride of her life the way only a grown ass monster can. And she begs and grunts and drools until I feel her messy cunt quake. I speed through the last few strokes, trying to stave off a volcanic eruption, her tightening walls trying to bleed the cum from every pore in my dick.

With a wolfish howl, I yank myself from her steaming depths, rise up, press myself against that puckered, made to fuck star of crinkled flesh, and unleash a canon blast of white-hot spunk.

Her sobbing cry of disappointment is cutoff as I push my still spurting cock balls deep inside her sinfully dry heat.

Splat. Splat. Splat.

It’s like I can hear the semen impact the walls of her darkened cave.

Splat. Splat. Splat.

Her anal chute ripples and my cock jerks again and again and again.

Splat. Splat.

I grow lightheaded.

Splat.

Her anal muscles pull at my shaft one last time and it’s over.

Splat.

I’m panting breathlessly. And I’m numb. The monster is gone.

It’s fucking black comedy tragic how I felt more in control in prison, even though I had no control at all. I guess the bars were safety valves. Kept things locked up tight. Or maybe the real prison was out here in the real world all along. The grandest fucking illusion of all, that we’re just a damn farcical experiment carried out under blue skies on green grass that don’t really exist.

I step back and pull my dick from her ass. Fluid drips out of her gaping hole like Niagara Falls and she starts to slide off the sink. I catch her and yank her leggings back up all in one move. They quickly dampen from our collective sin. I let her slip to her hands and knees, breathless and panting and giggling madly. I stare at myself in the mirror. Ana stares right back at me.

“Is this what you really want?” she sneers sardonically.

I shrug, jeans still tangled around my ankles.

“Just another failed prison retread, Jalen? Try and fail. Try and fail.” She sighs, face fading in the fogged glass. “Still just a little boy after all. Why did you let me do it, Jalen? I hate what you’ve become.”

I punch the glass.

The mirror cracks and her face contorts into sadness.

“I don’t need no pity,” I growl and throw my fist at it again.

Ana disappears.

I throw another punch. Feel the skin on my knuckles split, warm blood dribbling down my wrist.

“Happy now?”

I blink. And it’s you. Pink-haired stranger. Tomboy Aphrodite. My small vanilla hood rat with no real names, just nicks. Granny Teague’s most hated white devil, a girl with the unicorn heart to lure you right in for new age slavery of the soul.

“Are you?”

I clench my fist and more blood beads out.

“Does it matter?” I finally answer. Never gonna take any help. Don’t need any help.

I look down at my tiny Asian doll, passed out, a dreamy smile on her mouth. Crazy. That post sex bliss she’s feeling, thinking I’ll make her my kept woman. Treat her to a lifestyle of money and drugs and violence. Fuck. All of it a damn empty lie spewed on a high. All she was to me was another wet hole. Bliss. Shit. Or is it just numbness. Swimming in a void of perpetual nightmares of my creation. A damn man boy who can’t let go of a twisted memory.

Fuck.

I pull my jeans up, stare into the mirror. “I’ll be just fine.” I nod. “Just fine.”

“Liar,” your pale face murmurs sadly.