It was a sight to behold. Her yellow five inch, erect, spiky Mohawk going up and down on my equally erect penis. The size similarities were ironic. Slurping sounds were included. This punk rock chick knew what she was doing. I felt victorious!
She would often take it out of her mouth to say, “You’re so punk.” Then she would progress with the oral pleasure, teasing me once I was about to erupt, only to procrastinate my orgasm. I’m telling you, bro, it was outstanding.
I studied her decorative body as she sucked me. Her tattoos were nostalgic. She had everyone from Black Flag to The Misfits, inked all over her slender body. Occasionally, I’d fondle a tit, but that was it. She told me she never fucks on the first date. “Take it or leave it.” I took it.
We were approaching the end. My sexual organ couldn’t hold out much longer. I was contemplating screaming out something ridiculous like, “Oi! Oi! Oi!” as I released my pent up seed. She was my first official punk rock chick.
My whole erection was engulfed in her mouth when she wrapped her tattooed fingers around my girth. Up and down in unison. The tip of dick was getting ready. I felt those endorphins going off.
I screamed out something banal like, “OH MY GOD!!!” The neighbors below had to have heard it. She tilted her head back after every last drop was drained to show me her achievement. A mouthful of cum. She was swirling it around in her mouth. I’ve never witnessed this before. I was enjoying the show. My mouth dropped, I went to say something, but it was too late. She spit my orgasm in my mouth, and twisted my balls with all ten fingers. I fell to the floor in agony. Crocodile tears falling from my face.
She put her shirt back on and said, “Fuck you, Mario! You’re a fucking poseur, and your band sucks. There’s nothing punk about your music. Get a new genre. Come to think to of it, this is probably the most punk thing that ever happened to your sorry ass. Fuck off!”
I haven’t picked up my guitar since that night, or added any extra salt to my food either. It was life altering experience.
Michael Marrotti is an author from Pittsburgh, using words instead of violence to mitigate the suffering of life in a callous world of redundancy. His primary goal is to help other people. He considers poetry to be a form of philanthropy. When he’s not writing, he’s volunteering at the Light Of Life homeless shelter on a weekly basis. If you appreciate the man’s work, please check out his his book, F.D.A. Approved Poetry, available on Amazon.