Porn Challenge Submissions

[CharleyH]

Submission #1

He cut the lines right there on the mirrored table, tapping the vial against the glass to get the last of the coke out, not caring who saw them. With the lights flashing and strobing around them, Spense couldn’t understand how Morrie could see anything, especially with the tinted aviators he was wearing, but his friend tidied the lines up with the edge of a playing card, licked off the edge and slipped it back into his leisure suit, then held up the rolled up fifty to Spense and with a tilt of his eyebrows told him to go ahead.

Spense was already high, and watching the redhead in the Quiana dress had his cock semi-hard and lolling on his thigh like an alligator sunning itself on a log.

"Go ahead," Morrie shouted over the music.

The redhead was dancing with a guy in a Saturday Night fever suit, already passe, but she was braless and the way her jugs rolled around in the thin, clingy fabric as she danced just mesmerized him. She had her legs parted and the guy had his thigh between hers. Her hands were in the air and she was fucking his leg in a way that made Spense’s head pound.

He turned to the coke for solace.

One line, then another. Big fat ones that froze his nose and set his brain to tinkling like little fairy bells. The lights got brighter, the music sweeter, louder, and sexier. He looked past the redhead out to the dance floor, where Warren Beaty was dancing with Margaret Trudeau. Cher was there somewhere to, and Baryshnikov and Margaux Hemingway. But for now, all Spense could see was the redhead in the black Quiana dress and the guy in the John Travolta suit.

He looked up at Morrie as Morrie lit a Kool Mild, bopping his head to the beat. Morrie was a childhood friend of Steve Rubell and his main coke connection, which was the only way Spense could ever get into this place, and now that he was here he was almost too stoned to move. He took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes, letting the coke rush through him.

"Dig it!" Morrie was tapping his knees.

He looked up and Morrie nodded with his head, indicating the redhead and John Travolta. The dance had got a little personal. She was leaning against the guy now, her mouth pressed against his, her jaw working. Travolta had a drink in one hand and was kissing her back, still moving to the beat.

The redhead’s hand was on his chest, and as Spense watched, it slid down his body until it was over the man’s cock. She took the guy’s zipper and pulled it down, fished around inside, and then the guy’s prick was in her hand and out in public, big and hard.

Spense looked around but no one seemed to notice. The guy had his free hand in her hair, pulling her head back, and was kissing and biting her neck. She was smiling with pleasure at his roughness, and her hand began to move on his cock, pumping him.

New York. 1978. Coked to the gills at Studio 54. Anything could happen. The guy was still holding his drink in one hand, pulling her head back and thrusting his tongue into her mouth as her little hand pumped on his thick, naked prick. She fisted him fast now, almost angrily, knowing he was in her power, and the big guy was helpless in her grasp.

The drink fell from his hand but no one noticed that either. He grabbed her in both arms but she twisted away, pointing his prick at the floor like it was a gun, and Spense saw the guy jerk and twitch, then thrust spastically into her hand as a big slug of come shot from his prick and splattered against the floor.

The girl tore away from his kiss so she could watch as he spurted helplessly in her hand. She pumped him till he was empty, then she smiled and danced away, not missing a beat.

She’d be needing a new partner now, and so Spense smiled.

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #2

New York City, October 1978. Greenwich village was a stir with people lining the streets for the annual Halloween parade. Amid the assorted witches, ghouls and hobo's mixed in with a nun or two I blended in quite well in my black outfit. Punkish vampire wear could best describe it.

I walked along the sidewalks hugging tightly to the storefronts trying to keep from inadvertently touching people. As hungry as I was finding a person who wasn't drunk or high proved difficult. The smell of pot was scattered throughout the crowd as I kept scanning for the right one. I didn't want to get a rush tonight just kill the hunger pangs to me blood and alcohol didn't mix.

I kept the rhythm in my head humming along to 'Suburban Relapse.'

"Should I
Throw things at the neighbours
expose myself to strangers?
kill myself or...you?
now memory gets hazy?
I think I must be crazy
but my string snapped
I had a relapse...A Suburban relapse"

Siouxsie and the Banshee's rock.

I passed a newstand and stopped to admire Gia Carangi's beautiful face staring back at me from a glossy magazine cover. I've watched her dancing at Studio 54 and even snorted some coke with her a few times. Beautiful and wild but too much for me to even handle. I wondered what she tasted like?

I purchased the magazine not really knowing why perhaps being part of her in a small way, amorphic veneration. Rolling the magazine and stuffing it into the pocket inside my oversized coat I decided to slip into an alley to clear my head. My hunger was growing and I was developing a headache, I would need to feed soon and didn't have the luxury to be picky anymore. I moved further into the alley to find a shadow to hide in for a few minutes but stopped suddenly hearing a sound to my left. I stayed frozen upon seeing something moving, two forms yet indistinguishable. They hadn't noticed me and I silently padded closer to quell my curiosity.

Upon closer inspection I could see a pirate being serviced orally by a She devil. He held her by the horns as her head bobbed back and forth, his eyes were closed and he had a slight grimace across his lips.

"That's it baby suck it harder. Oh fuck that feels good."

I could tell by the smell of his sweat and blood that he was ready to cum, I had the rare opportunity to get two for the price of one. He would be distracted by his orgasm and never notice the girl was now in my grasp, my hand held over her mouth. As he leaned against the wall panting, his member flaccid and hanging out of his pants I reached over and grabbed him by the back of his neck and tore into his throat, there was no sound but a small gurgle from his open wound and a stifled gasp from the She devil. I bent in and fed from his gushing wound, in my haste I severed and artery and it began to spray the She devil and I in a warm crimson shower. I was able to release the girl who was now frozen in shock and finish feeding. When I was sufficiently satiated I picked up his carcass and threw it in a nearby dumpster.

I turned back towards the girl seeing her more clearly, the blood from the pirate had blended in with her outfit. She stood there wide eyed nervously wringing her plush pointed tail. Tears began to stream from her doe eyes as I moved closer to her and smiled widely.

"Do I have anything in my teeth?" I asked her showing my long sharp incisors." Just kidding, don't be frightened devil girl, I've had my fill for tonight."

I looked deeply into her eyes willing her to follow me. She took my hand silently and we walked back out into the street.

No one would question a vampire covered in blood on Halloween. We maneuvered our way through the throngs back to my flat. This one I would save for desert.

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #3

Parents shouted at impatient kids waiting outside the Odeon for a ticket to see 'Grease', while the upper middle class stood for a breath of Virginia Slim air during an intermission from 'Ain't Misbehavin''. Marc Benecke manned the door on West 54th Street, picking and choosing clientele to fashion pack 'the' club, while 18 year olds emerged from boroughs, dodging knife-brandishing Jack Rollers to hear the latest street rock at CBGB's on the Bowery. The Newport Jazz Festival was gearing up, and tourists from around the world stepped over drunk or junked out bodies lining sidewalks in Times Square, while Glammer's hung on street corners eating Big Mac's from Styrofoam container's before heading to whatever party was in the making on that particular Saturday night in July.

Cabs swerved in and out of lanes on Broadway where horns blared as loud as the 8-track sounds of Patti Smith screaming from dilapidated, mural-pasted vans, and fighting the Bee Gees from Mustangs and Corvettes. Punks wearing safety pins yelled, "Yo, faggot," and waved their fists as they passed Club 82 on West 4th, while row houses on the avenues beamed with blue lights, and the shrill of an airplane landing on Fantasy Island spilled into the streets from one house, and Chrissy Snow whined, 'Oh, Jack,' from an open window on a lower floor of another. Lovers in hues of neon strolled the West Village heading for the Christopher Street pier to find a romantic corner on the edge of Manhattan, while teens headed to the Ponderosa in Queen's for cheap steak and the elite drank expensive wine at Lutèce's on the East Side

Kyle Morie was 19 in 1978, straight out of Louisiana and self-transplanted in the Big Apple with big dreams. He lived in a broken down warehouse in SoHo with a junkie model Kristophe, and occasionally Eli would see him with his blond, blow-dried hair and favorite iron-on, white t-shirt, strolling through Greenwich.

Eli had talked to him a few times when Kyle had money and stopped in at Yonah Schimmel's eatery for a knish on the lower east side, or when he turned up to pump iron at the Village Gym. They both hung out at the Crisco Disco, but Kyle enjoyed The Anvil whenever The Famous Yuba performed a drag show there.

Eli never really saw Kyle with any friends. He kept to himself it seemed, except for the infrequent trick at a bathhouse, or light conversation with familiar faces. Kyle was shy and mannerly, and perhaps his subtle assertiveness or lack of flamboyancy held him back from landing a role, any role in a dance production.

That particular Saturday night Eli noticed Kyle come out of Uncle Paul's with a man about 50 and dark peppered hair. He was well dressed for that hangout, wearing what seemed in the night, a grey suit. He was tall, maybe 6'2, and seemed to tower over Kyle who was 5'11, but perhaps it was the way he carried himself, with a brawny confidance that made him seem larger.

Eli saw them slip around a corner into an alley. He had had his eye on Kyle, and curious, he followed them. He peered around the corner, and saw them walk to the back of the alley, and staying in the shadows, he moved closer.

Kyle slipped to his knees, undoing the top button and unzipping the fly as the man leaned his back against the brick building and opened his suit jacket.

He looked up at the man for a brief second, and then pushed his pants down a little further, and licked the tip of his cock. Eli's balls tightened right away, wishing to God it was his cock exposed and on the rim of Kyle's warm soft tongue.

Eli traced his hand along the seam of his fly, pressing and massaging the shaft of his growing bulge as Kyle held the man's flaccid cock on the edge of his lip and then devoured it into his wet mouth. Eli wanted to feel it; he could practically feel every inch slide across Kyle's tongue, swelling harder and bigger at the back of his throat.

 

[CharleyH]

A sweet bump, and a word from the sponsor ME: DO not let this opportunity pass you bye, it's the 'real thing', so 'get cracking'

:|

 

[CharleyH]

Another bump

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #4

It was early February, 1978. A young Katie Couric had just auditioned for an internship with a leading news network in New York. As she headed out, she realized it was going to be difficult to get a cab in the winter storm.

The wind was blowing in strong gusts. It was almost impossible to see, but miraculously an empty cab appeared. She made a dash across the street. Just before she reached it someone else climbed into the back seat. Katie was furious.

"Godammit, this was my fucking cab. You saw me. Get out."

Katie looked into the gentle blue eyes of a handsome man in his thirties. A friendly smile flashed across his face. She recognized him immediately as a rising star at the network.

"Okay, but I'd rather share. Here, maybe this will change your mind."

He took a flask and two shot glasses out of his briefcase. Katie threw him an "I'm sorry" smile and slipped into the back seat. They clicked glasses and drained a shot of single malt. He poured another. Twenty minutes later they were on their third. The cab had barely moved.

Brad was as charming in person as he was on television. Her young body responded shamelessly causing her nipples to swell and her pussy to leak. Brad slipped his arm around her. Katie tilted her head to meet his lips. Their tongues intertwined. She threw her arm around his neck and melted against his body. His hand moved under her coat and gently massaged her soft breast. Brad pulled her blouse open and slipped his hand under her bra. He squeezed the naked flesh and pinched her swollen nipple.

Katie's body trembled with need. She gasped when he kissed her ear and pushed his tongue inside. He guided her hand to the bulge in his trousers. She rubbed along its length and massaged the swollen meat inside. She could barely contain the lust surging through her loins.

Brad unfastened his trousers and pulled down the zipper. Katie's hand slipped inside. Her fingers wrapped around the hard flesh and pulled it free. She glanced down at his magnificent tool.

A gentle push of encouragement on the back of her neck was all she needed. Her tongue swirled around the large knob before she took his shaft between her lips. She explored every ridge and crevice, running her tongue across the veins that bulged from his swollen meat. She moved her mouth up and down his shaft sucking and licking him aggressively.

Her pussy was dripping and demanding attention. Katie slipped a hand into her panties. Her fingers found the moist petals and swollen clit. The cock in her mouth was like an aphrodisiac and she realized that her fingers would not be enough to satisfy her craving.

Brad help Katie slide into his lap. He lifted her dress. The huge knob of his cock rubbed against her juicy slit while she was still pulling down her panties and pantyhose. She sat back and felt his hard shaft split open her swollen plum and sink into her juicy cunt. She moaned when his entire length had filled her empty chamber.

Katie grabbed the back of the seat in front of her and rode him hard, lifting up and slamming down on the length of his cock again and again. She tried to ignore the eyes of the cab driver in the rearview mirror. Brad removed her bra. His large hands enveloped her naked tits and pulled on her swollen nipples.

Katie couldn't contain the pressure building in her belly. She lifted up and slammed down desperately. Her pussy exploded. She arched her back and bit her lip unable to control the convulsions of pleasure surging through her body.

Still in a daze, Katie felt her body being turned. Brad was now behind her plowing his cock into her pussy and jerking her body forward on each thrust. Katie's face pressed up against the window. She saw people watching them from the street. She continued to slide up the window each time Brad pounded his cock up into her dripping cunt until her naked tits were also exposed.

The pressure in her loins returned, only this time with greater intensity. His cock pounded into her harder and faster. Brad groaned and hot cum streamed into her cunt. An orgasm ripped through Katie's body. Her body shook uncontrollably as flashes of pleasure sent her tumbling into bliss. She collapsed onto the seat drained of all energy.

Sex was not new to Katie, but this was the first time she had ever been fucked.

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #5

The building was a brown stone and its façade was dark, foreboding really. It needed the tender loving care of someone enamored of old, crumbling artifacts, of good times gone by. Not so odd, really for a building on the north side of Blecker Street in Greenwich Village. In its shadowy depths there was a clinic that desperate women could go for a 'quick fix' to rid themselves of unwanted babies for a small fee. Good, bad, or indifferent, no matter the outcome, the clinic was there and welcomed all with a sodium vapor yellow beacon of hope.

Dr. Jones had been a practitioner of Ob/Gyn care for many years and as he aged, his colleagues shunned him for his practices. He was a proponent of pro-choice and figured that if a woman didn't want to raise a child then, she shouldn't have to. However, he became more and more intrigued with the research going on in England and this new test tube baby that had been born there this year. He wanted to be a part of this; he didn't want the fame but rather the overwhelming desire for power drew him like the homeless to a free meal.

His work was usually the 'quick fix' but he thought that if a woman wanted to have a baby then, why not let it be his? Just think of the miracle children that could come from his lineage.

In the confines of his office he sat perched upon his examination stool and held gentle conversation with yet another patient, this one was different as she wasn't there for an abortion.

"So, Ms. Davis, what brings you to see me?"

"Well," Ms. Davis began nervously, "You see, I've been trying for many years to have a baby and I can't because…well…"

"Why can't you have a baby? Have you been tested? Has your husband?" inquired the Doctor.

"That's just it. I don't have a husband, nor do I want one. I can't afford the up-town doctors and they will have nothing to do with me because, honestly…I am a lesbian."

Completely unfazed by Ms. Davis confession the doctor didn't miss a beat. His hunger for immortality drove him like no other power could.

"I believe, Ms. Davis that I can be of service to you. I can guarantee that if you are fertile, you will be a mom before long. I see here that you are currently ovulating. Is this correct?"

"Yes, I am," came the tentative response.

"Let me see what I can do for you. One moment please."

Dr. Jones removed himself from the room, his heart pounding with excitement as he closed the door behind him and crossed the hall to exam room two. He inhaled deeply as he reached for a specimen cup. His hands shook as he pulled at the zipper of his polyester pants. There was no need to stroke his cock to life as the exhilaration of his plans strummed through his veins. With his pants around his ankles and the cup at the ready, he began the dance of a new beginning.

Unbeknownst to him, Jared, the neighborhood vagrant, was spying through the grime tinted windows. His eyes were wide with shock. This was new. He was used to watching the good doctor examine the many varied women but never the good doctor pleasuring himself. God he was going to get off as well. He yanked aside the second-hand trousers and began to palm his enflamed organ to the same beat as Dr. Jones. He envisioned himself fucking the doctor's creamy ass. Jared couldn't help but stare; he had always loved the doctor and the care he took with all those around him.

Simultaneously, the two men came, both sighing in ecstasy. One man spilt his seed to fertilize the soil and one to fertilize a woman's womb.

Catching his breath and straightening his pants, Dr. Jones carefully readied his sperm for implantation within Ms. Davis. He mopped his brow and re-entered the examination room.

"Ms. Davis, I believe I have just the thing for you." "

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #6

I stepped over another strewn body on the Bowery sidewalk. It was huddled in its Vietnam jacket still. I laughed, the fucking suits spent how many years sending every kid they could grab to that slaughter mill so they could come back and lie in the gutter with the jack-rollers. Speaking of which, one of them was eyeing me from the corner. He wouldn't do shit though, I knew. I had the whole Ian Anderson thing going on with my usual punk fashions. That meant the shaggy full beard, heavy body set, long scraggly hair, jacket, the shredded jeans, and the dangling cigarette. Enough to scare off the dipshits, while still avoiding the trying-too-hard territory or even trying territory.

I was making my way to CBGB to catch whatever punk rockers were on-stage as my nightly refuge from the painful anti-music of disco. What the fuck did they put into all those rich faggot's cokes to make them think that shit was not only music but decent music. Were they all dropped on their heads as children or something? Fuck, maybe the Reds should just fucking put us out of our misery and nuke us. Or maybe disco will just kill enough of our brain cells that we'll all kill ourselves instead. That's probably what happened to the fucking Jonestown psychos, should have avoided the goddamned disco.

Still, while the rest of the country was floundering in rich men's piss music, shiny chains, fake masculinity, and coke lines, I was amassing what little I could salvage of rock's underground insurgency. The mainstays of Blue Oyster Cult and Tull, punks like the Ramones and the Sex Pistols, and random new groups like Van Halen and some British import called Judas Priest. And of course there was CBGB, which was quickly becoming my home away from my shitty rat-infested apartment.

I walked under the white awning following the music snaking out.

Psycho Killer, qu'est que c'est.

Fuck yeah, Talking Heads. I could feel brain cells re-growing already. The place was packed as usual. There was a sprawled body inside; one of the jack-rollers must have tried running in again. I stepped over it and meandered/pushed my way towards the bar and ordered myself a whiskey straight. It was overpriced, but what the fuck wasn't these days? What the fuck had Nixon set in motion before everyone outed his lying scumbag ass? I gulped it down fast, the politics making it sting more on the way down, and made my way into the crowd around the stage.

We were pressed in like sardines around that stage. I was bumping into men and women from every angle. But it wasn't all bad though. In front of me was a dropout doll in a slinky black dress and chestnut shoulder-length hair having no room and dancing directly against my chest and crotch. It was actually kind of embarrassing as it was making me grow in my jeans. I was getting a little nervous because any second now she was going to notice, turn around and scream at my appearance. Sometimes the Tull look had its disadvantages.

The moment arrived as she stopped in mid dance and turned around angrily staring down and then up. I awkwardly smiled as the loud ironies of Talking Heads washed over us.

Warning Sign of things to come.

Yeah, thanks guys, way to back me up.

"Um, sorry," I murmured at a volume definitely unhearable over the amps.

Instead of the slap, scream, or knee to the groin I was expecting though, she smiled up, pressed her breasts against my chest and slid down the narrow path to the ground. I must have raised an eyebrow or she must have done something illegal because she started giggling and unzipped my pants.

She had my cock out of my underpants in another second and I was definitely hoping the set wouldn't end anytime soon. Luckily the people in my immediate surroundings were concentrating too hard on the music to notice my plight.

She didn't bother starting slow and just sort of clamped on and started hovering away. I revised my early statement to confirm the on-something hypothesis and held on tight.

 

[Samandiriel]

Love tap.

 

[CharleyH]

Love tap.

and another

 

[CharleyH]

A bump

 

[Samandiriel]

Only 6? this must be too hard for them here.

 

[neonlyte]

Only 6? this must be too hard for them here.

Count yourself lucky - I'm involved in another forum that has attracted 290 entries (max 700 words) over a seven day period. Trying to get your head around any is proving to be something of a nightmare.

I am so glad I passed on this one - I'd never have handled the timeline, let alone the NY patois.

 

[Samandiriel]

Count yourself lucky - I'm involved in another forum that has attracted 290 entries (max 700 words) over a seven day period. Trying to get your head around any is proving to be something of a nightmare.

I am so glad I passed on this one - I'd never have handled the timeline, let alone the NY patois.

LOL...NY patois.

Timeline? I better look again and get moving....or have I already submitted???

 

[CharleyH]

another bump

 

[CharleyH]

Due to Easter and other unforseen circumstances the date for submission has been requested extension.

FINAL DEADLINE: THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 7:00PM EST, which is FRIDAY APRIL 1, 1:00AM GMT

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #7

I strolled down the path, shaking my head at the litter dotting the trampled grass. I could remember how beautiful the park was when I was a child. Now the scribbled graffiti on every concrete surface and the trash strewn all around made it look seedy and discarded. I hoped the fervor recently stirred up over restoring the park would not die.

Bridle Path’s attraction for me was not marred by the debris. The breath-taking canopy created by colorful trees kept my eyes above me and not on the ground. I continued past the Reservoir and cut across the Great Lawn, which looked more like a crushed field than the lush green carpet it once was. “Staying Alive,” by the Bee Gees wafted to my ears on the gentle breeze as someone in the distance grooved to the beat as the sun set on the city.

As I approached the Obelisk, sounds that seemed out of place in such a public location brought me to a sudden stop. My eyes scanned around the ragged looking plaza. At first, I thought I was hearing things, as no one milled around the broken benches or the base of the massive monument. However, movement near a large magnolia tree caught my attention.

Keeping my head turned slightly towards the tree, I circled around the stone needle and peered at the tree from around the fat bronze crab statue that adorned every corner of the Obelisk. There was still enough light in the sky for me to make out a couple against the trunk of the Magnolia. The man’s bellbottoms were barely hanging on his hips, the denim held in place by lithe legs wrapped around him.

Moans punctuated the air as he drove forcefully into a slim blonde. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and she clung to him as he pounded her against the tree. Despite the fact that both remained essentially clothed, the scene was nonetheless arousing to me. Her head pressed against the rough bark, her mouth open in ecstasy as he fucked her.

I felt warmth spread from my pussy as I watched the couple. I could imagine what the blonde felt as her lover thrust into her pussy. Slipping my hand into my jogging pants, I delved between the soft folds of my lips. A bolt of searing heat flared in my clit as my fingers brushed across the hard button. I leaned forward slightly, resting my upper body against the crab as my knees weakened with desire. I wanted that to be me pressed against the tree, my lover wanting me so desperately that he couldn’t wait until we reached seclusion.

His thrusts grew more frantic as she arched against him, a cry tearing from her mouth. My pussy throbbed in response, my fingers furiously stroking my clit. Her moans echoed in my mind as I bit my lip to suppress the sounds of my own passion. A buzzing grew in the back of my skull and my muscles stiffened as my hips jerked forward. Grinding my pussy against my fingers, I threw my other arm around the crab to keep from falling to the ground as stars exploded in front of my eyes.

When I came to my senses, the couple was gone, and I whispered a thank you into the night.

 

[CharleyH]

Submission #8

ON BLACK - SOUND: the hiss and crackle of a STYLUS being placed on a RECORD, and the distant, echoing laughs of TWO WOMEN melt into the soft first chords of PATTI SMITH'S "ROCK'N'ROLL NIGGER".

FADE IN TITLE CARD TEXT:

Oh, look around you, all around you,
riding on a copper wave.
Do you like the world around you?
Are you ready to behave?

- Patti Smith​

FADE TEXT

FADE FROM BLACK

INT: DAN GRAHAM'S STUDIO LOFT: NIGHT

SOFT FOCUS on DAN GRAHAM'S EYES - red, swollen, glazed over and with dark, dilated pupils.

SOUND: PATTI SMITH'S "ROCK'N'ROLL NIGGER" blasts in, as we...

SNAP TO SHARP FOCUS and fly into DAN GRAHAM'S left-eye pupil and merge rapidly into an ESTABLISHING MONTAGE:

DAN GRAHAM, age 33, dark tousled hair, contorted face, open-mouthed, his scream is completely drowned by the deafening music.

He is naked, with his arms outstretched and legs crossed, nailed with large chromium-plated SPIKES to a CROSS that hangs vertically from an assortment of stainless steel CHAINS on the decaying wall of a very high-ceiling live-in art studio, above a king-sized four-poster BED, where...

...TWO YOUNG WOMEN - one with short blonde hair and the other with long red hair - kiss each other's blood-lacquered lips ravenously, their entangled naked bodies glistening under the tremulous yellow light of...

...hundreds of CANDLES that lay spread across the wooden floors, bedside tables, ledges, windowsills - along with dozens of charcoal sketches, black and white photographs, rolls of unprocessed film, MDA tabs. Dark, heavy curtains cover all the windows. The little flames flicker and burst into life again as...

...THE SOUND of a MASSIVE EXPLOSION that shakes and lights up the room is heard from behind us. The music rages on. The curtains are thrown aside, and we are violently projected along with a rain of fire and shattered glass through the huge, sumptuously curved cast iron window frames to reveal that...

EXT: SOHO: NIGHT

...we are flying high above a deserted MERCER STREET, in the heart of SoHo. The blackened windows of the 19th century building directly across the street reflect the inferno from which we were ejected, and we rush to merge with that reflection, where Dan Graham's 5th-storey STUDIO LOFT is consumed by fire and sheds its layers, one by one:

The intricate arrays of metal FIRE-ESCAPE STRUCTURES crackle, whine, and finally slide clean off the façade of the building, exposing...

...the CAST IRON PANELS, window frames and sleek architectural details, white-hot, contorting and liquefying, only to leave...

...crumbling MASONRY BLOCKS, slowly being dissolved by the wall of fire behind them.

INT: DAN GRAHAM'S STUDIO LOFT: NIGHT

DAN GRAHAM'S POV:-​

The flames roar at a volume that threatens to overtake the music, and consume everything in sight: work desks, easels, paintings, file cabinets, the walls themselves, the floor.

On the bed, the BLONDE WOMAN kneels between the redhead's spread legs, curves her right hand underneath the other woman's ass to lift it from the sheets, and dives voraciously to catch her clit between her teeth.

The REDHEAD throws her head back as she growls, her hair reflecting the light of the fire around them, and pushes her hips upward to meet the other's mouth. She wraps her thighs around the blonde's face, her sweat-covered body undulates rhythmically, her fingers rake through the other's hair, pulling her closer.

The wall of fire closes in, the flames lick the high ceiling that starts to crack, crumble, and fall UPWARD into the pre-dawn sky where thunderstorm clouds form and whirl unnaturally fast. The stainless chains from which the cross hangs, we now see, run all the way up, until they disappear amongst the clouds.

Without taking her mouth off the redhead's pussy, the blonde woman lifts her eyes to meet Dan Graham's, a moment before the cradle of flames engulfs the three of them.

As DAN GRAHAM inhales the first breath of fire, as flames crawl beneath his skin, the music ends, and we finally hear his SCREAM.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

bump!

 

[Lauren Hynde]

bump!

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Charley is busy, but she asked me to post the authors' list:

1. dr_mabeuse
2. ABSTRUSE
3. CharleyH
4. Erlikkhan
5. vella_ms
6. Lucifer_Carroll
7. CrimsonMaiden
8. Lauren Hynde