The Mysterious Case of Couches That Eat People

coucheatsI’ve recently learned that two of my friends, let’s call them Crystal and Milhouse, have unexplained external knee injuries, which they are calling “war wounds.”   I, being the concerned friend that I am, am worried about this situation.  The only real evidence I have gathered is that Crystal and Milhouse were together at the time of these injuries and they were both caused by two separate couches.  I know this may seem vague and sketchy to most of our readers, but I, being a pretend forensic scientist, think I have puzzled together this mystery.   Gathering as much evidence as I could, below I will describe what I think happened the night Crystal and Milhouse ended up with knee injuries (which both look somewhat like rug burn).

It was a dark, rainy night and Crystal was outside sitting in her car with a flat tire and no cell phone reception.  As she put her head on her steering wheel trying to figure out her next move, she sees a house with a dimly lit window in the distance.  Although she is wearing a thick coat, she decides taking it off would make more sense, because the rain water will make it much too heavy.  Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t wearing a bra and her white undershirt was skimpy with the words, “Yes, These Babies Are Real” on the front, and  “YOLO” on the back.  She knew she had no choice, so she removed her jacket.   Quickly she jumped out of the car and ran as fast as she could to the house with the dimly lit window.  The ground is extremely slippery and Crystal loses her footing and falls knee first to the ground, sliding about five feet.  As she slides, her thick pants slide off her waist.  She gets up, pants down around her knees and nipples poking through her soaked wet shirt. She rubs her knees.  Checking herself for injury, thankfully the pockets of her jeans had slid down to her knee area almost creating a knee pad-like protection.  Not a mark.

Her pants, however, were ruined.  The button was bent and the hip area now had holes.  Crystal thought quickly and knew she couldn’t run around holding up her pants, so she wisely removed them and headed to the house with the dimly lit window.   Soaking wet, with a see through white shirt that says “Yes, These Babies Are Real”, the back, “YOLO”, and Mickey Mouse panties, she makes it to the front patio.  She knocks on the door and a man holding a light saber in one hand and a Canon camera around his neck answers.   He looks Crystal up and down and introduces himself as Milhouse. Crystal, soaking wet explains that she has a flat tire and no cell phone reception.  Milhouse understands and invites her in.

As she walks in the living room she notices a few couches, one by the fireplace, the other near the window.  Milhouse asks if she wants to build a couch fort, but Crystal declines.   She says she just needs to use the phone.  Milhouse grabs the phone and tries to hand it to Crystal.  However, his light saber accidentally cuts off her white shirt that says, “Yes, These Babies Are Real” with “YOLO” on the back.  He apologizes profusely and offers to leave the room so she can make the call.  She nods and Milhouse turns around to exit the room.  However, his foot got tangled in the phone cord and he spins out of control.  In fact, he spun so hard his pants and shirt flew off.  He hits the floor hard, knees first.   Thankfully his underwear slid down just low enough to cover his upper thighs and knees so he didn’t hurt himself.  Now nearly nude, Milhouse excuses himself from the room.  Crystal calls her husband and explains to him the situation.  While she is on the phone, she notices the couch begins to rumble and move.  Frightened, she pulls off her panties and throws it at the couch.  The couch gobbles them up.  She screams and hangs up the phone.  Milhouse runs into the room and asks what’s wrong.  Before he can get an answer, he sees his couches, both of them, alive, possessed.  He yells for Crystal to get out as he himself charges the couches.   Milhouse dives, jumping on the couch like it was a live alligator.  Wrestling with the first couch, he stabs it with his light saber, tearing the cushions into shreds.  The second couch is chasing Crystal, who is now totally nude.   She screams and falls to the floor for no reason before she can get to the door.  Milhouse turns around and throws his camera at the couch, but misses and hits Crystal on her chest, more than likely leaving a bruise.  He hops off the first possessed couch that he just killed and runs to the second.  He takes off his underwear and tries to strangle the second couch, but it throws him across the room.  Millhouse lands onto a wooden chest, which pops opens causing dildos and pussy pumps to fly across the floor.  He gets up dizzy, also nude, and tries to grab Crystal.  Both of them, struggling, crawl to the doorway, hoping to escape.   The couch grabs them, both of their feet are now stuck in the cushions.  They scream, their knees scrape against the floor, now bleeding, pulling with their hands to get away.  Crystal kicks as hard as she can and the couch shrieks in pain letting them go.  They both get up and make it outside safe.  Nude, yes, but safe, with nothing but a war wound on their knees.

In my humble, forensic scientist opinion, this is probably how these “war wounds” occurred.

However, there are other options, such as they had sex and got couch burns/rug burns.  But I’d say that is a bit too far-fetched.

If anyone else can help with any sort of explanation, please feel free to reply.

Taxi Cab Confessions


The romantic cab setting.

After spending a few hours at a club in Downtown San Diego, my husband and I head back home. We drove our car, but we both decided to drink and take a taxi home. It is a humid evening and my husband is wearing a black and white plaid shirt with black jeans and I am wearing a short black skirt with a white halter top. As we stand outside of the club and wait for the taxi, drunk, we laugh at the people still waiting to get in. My husband’s breath smells like gum and White Russians as I kiss his soft, smooth lips and nibble on the edges. I move down his neck and smell the sweet aroma of his cologne mixed with his warm sweat. I undo his top button and lick his chest. We start kissing and my husband moves his hands up and down my back as I squeeze the bulge in his pants. The people in line stare at us making gasping sounds, but we are oblivious. I hear the faint brake as the taxi pulls up to the curb behind me. Ryan opens the door for me and I step in first. The air conditioner is on and it circulates the pina colada air freshener. The leather seats are cracked and sticky under my thighs. The cabbie, who is middle-aged with a scruffy beard and wearing an old Polo shirt, asks, “Where to?”   My husband gives him our address and looks back at me. I see his name with his picture on the dashboard: Robert Jones. “And take the scenic route, Mr. Jones,” I add. He puts the car in drive and accelerates away from the club. 
I reach for the lump under my husband’s pants again as I kiss him, “I can’t wait to fuck you Ryan,” I say. “I want you right now.” The cabbie hears the clicking of my husband’s buckle as I undo his belt. At first the he’s uncomfortable because he knows that I’ve pulled my man’s dick out. I put my warm mouth on it and immediately he starts to moan quietly. The cabbie looks into the rear view mirror and his suspicions are right: it is just  in the reflection with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. I reach under to rub my husband’s balls and he moans louder. I slide my mouth down lower, working my way to the base of his dick. My husband’s breathing is getting more intense as my lips get closer to his crotch. I sit up on my knees and now my ass is up in the air; it’s a lot easier to deep throat him now. I lower my mouth inch by inch and gag on his cock. My eyes start to water. It takes me a few tries but I finally swallow him down into my throat. I love feeling it deep in my mouth. I move my throat muscles and massage my husband’s cock. He reaches around and rubs the outside of my pussy lips. When he pulls his fingers away, my froth makes his fingers slick and slippery. I am dripping all over him. My husband sticks two fingers in me and they instantly become coated with the clear, sweet juices that ooze out of me as I swallow his cock.”Your pussy is so fucking wet, girl,” he says to me.  I look up at him and respond, “I only get wet for you,” before I swallow his entire manhood again. My husband lifts my skirt up over my back and exposes me. He licks his fingers clean and sticks them back in me. He fucks me with his fingers, quickly going in and out of me. I’m so wet that the cabbie can hear the loud smacking coming from between my legs. He looks at the rear view mirror and sees my husband’s hand sliding in and out of my pussy. He wants to turn around so bad to get a look at my clean shaven pussy, but he’s still afraid to. Ryan’s moans sound like helpless whimpers now. I bob my head up and down, every other thrust gliding his dick down my throat and covering him in slippery spit. The cabbie finally turns around and gets a glimpse of my ass, but it’s too dark. He sees my husband look at him and is embarrassed, but he can’t help but turn around again. “I want to fuck you so bad Ryan! Let me fuck you, PLEASE!” I beg. But I don’t wait. I straddle my husband’s thighs and sit on him reverse cowgirl. It’s a smooth dip onto his hard cock as the cabbie sees my hands grasp the headrest of the passenger seat. I moan in ecstasy and immediately feel his 8 plus inches hit the back of my vagina. I rock my hips as my nails dig into the seat in front of me. The cabbie undoes his pants too and pulls out his own dick. There is a thick puff of dark hair that sits under his shirt and leading down to his pubic area. He looks like he has never shaved in his life. His dick is short and thick; as he strokes it the cab slows down and we veer slightly to the right and into the other lane. “Keep your eyes on the damn road,” My husband orders him. His eyes go back and forth between my rising and falling body, my husband’s face in the mirror, and the road in front of him. I bounce on my husband faster and harder without trying to hit my head on the roof of the cab. I rest my head on the seat and let my husband grind in me. “Give me your finger,” I demand.  My husband obeys and I leave slimy spit on his finger down to his knuckle. “Stick it in my ass, baby. Let me feel you in both holes.” Ryan happily does it and now I’m whining in pleasure just inches from the cabbie’s face. “Fuck me hard, Ryan!”  My husband speeds up the pace of his pumping cock and the sound of my thighs landing on his legs echoes in the cab. I’m breathing hard; every time my husband’s dick beats deep into my pussy, he jars my body, making my breaths sound like hiccups. “Fuck my ass hard Ryan…show me how deep and far  you are going to cum in me!”

It’s too much for the cabbie to handle as he jacks his dick faster and faster, swerving between lanes as if he were drunk. His breathing intensifies and it’s getting harder for him to hold the steering wheel while stroking his cock at the same time. In between my moans I ask him, “Are you going to cum, Mr. Jones? Are you? Are you going to cum for me?” His eyes roll up into his head and he nods dreamily. “Good.” I spit on my hand and hold it above his dick. It seems like an eternity as my spit oozes down onto his dick. He stops and waits for it to cover his head and smears it all over. He gets the cum feeling fast. He breathes harder and starts to sound out of breath and suddenly he shoots his load onto his shirt, the rest dripping onto his hand like lava from a volcano. I reach forward and steady the steering wheel for a few seconds. He sees my hand jerking as I hold the wheel; he knows I’m still getting fucked. I lean toward him and rub a finger across his dick head, taking off a smear of his cum. I hold the finger up to his face and rub it on his lips, asking him to tell me thank you. He’s mumbles thank you and I wipe his own cum on his mouth and tell him to stay quiet for the rest of the drive.
My husband is rock hard the entire time as he pounds my tiny holes. The passenger seat shakes violently as he continues to fuck me. I scream with my mouth near the cabbie’s ear, “Oh fuck your dick feels so good, I love the way you fuck me Ryan. OH MY GOD!”  My husband slides his other hand under my top and grabs my breasts. “Yes! Yes! Grab my tits! Make those mother fuckers bounce!” I say this to let the cabbie know exactly what my husband is doing to me. “Cum in me! I want to feel your hot cum in me! I want to feel you drip between my legs for the rest of the night!” I breathe on the cabbie’s neck, which smells of stale cigarette smoke and coffee. I feel Ryan’s dick expand as he gets harder and closer to an orgasm. “Faster! Faster!” I scream out, making the cabbie moan again.  My husband thrusts his cock deep, hitting the back of my pussy with each stroke. I reach down and grab his balls and the base of his dick so I can feel the force of his cum when it pumps deep inside me. He grunts as he unloads so much cum that I can feel his hot juices splashing against the walls of my vagina. I push my pussy deeper onto him, hoping the force of my back walls presses against his dick hard enough to hold the sperm inside him for as long as possible, making me feel his cum shot’s intensity. I slowly lay back against him and turn my head toward his ear, breathing in deep and smelling his neck. “Keep your dick in me Ryan.” We’re both  sweating through our clothes. He lifts up my skirt and he starts to rub my clit. I whimper as his fingers move in circles between my legs.  My husband moves his dick slowly in and out of me as I play with my breasts and nipples. I tell him “Don’t stop, nicey (what he calls me instead of Nessa),” so he keeps sliding his wet cock rhythmically in my pussy. My husband whispers to me that he wants to feel me cum on his dick. I start to feel the tingle in my body. He moves his fingers in short, quick circles. “I’m gonna cum!” My husband pumps his cock faster and deeper as I reach back with my breasts still exposed and grab the back of his head. I cry out.“Oh, FUCK!” My pussy walls tighten multiple times, my body writhing each time.“Oh God, feel my pussy squeeze your cock. No one can fucks me better than you Ryan.” I hear the cabbie spit on his hand as he starts to lube his dick again.

We pull up into our driveway and I reluctantly push my husband’s dick out of my body, his cum and my juice spill out onto the cabbie’s car seats. I get out first and the fare is $77.40.   My husband stands outside the passenger side window with his large cock half exposed.  In one hand he is trying to hold his pants up and in the other, he is holding four twenties. Without looking at the bills, the cabbie waves his free hand at my husband and shakes his head before he speeds off into the street, leaving my husband holding the money and his pants, and the cabbie holding a steering wheel and his  dick.

*Although this story is fictional, it was originally created while I was jacking Ryan off and whispering it in his ear.  If the mood is right and it’s more of a lazy night, I will usually suck his dick, lick on his nipples, and kiss on his neck, alternating until he orgasms.   While I do this, I will talk dirty or tell him a quick story that helps get him off.  With this story, we actually collaborated and went back and forth until he finally exploded.  The next day I wrote the story out so I wouldn’t forget.

Red-Headed She-Devil


Reenactment of DM at office Christmas party

Long before I met my wife, I worked for a somewhat large company which I will not name.  I was single so I would flirt with a few co-workers and eventually got a reputation as the office ladies’ man.  Although it wasn’t true, the moniker was flattering.  I’ve never really been attracted to blond girls, which if I recall, most of the single women in this office were.  I guess the fact none of these women were really my type gave me a bit more confidence to be extra charming and witty.   I met up with some of them after work, but beyond a few long nights and a couple of drinks, I made it clear I wasn’t looking for a relationship.   Not with them at least.  Soon I’d try my luck with the district manager, a slightly older redhead, who would stop by our office every few Fridays to make sure things were going okay.   I am not sure if it was the power of her being my boss or her hot little body that tempted me to flirt, but I know it wasn’t her red hair.   Since I was a kid I’ve had this fear of redheads.  I am not sure if in preschool or day care I had a redhead that would watch over me, possibly beating me if I yelled too loud or ate a crayon or something.  Some kids were afraid of clowns and creepy dolls, I was afraid of redheads.  Although I knew I shouldn’t have, I’d always compliment my DM’s outfit and asked if she was staying in town for the weekend.  Of course she’d say no, she was just in town for the day.  I’d act disappointed, but really it was all a game.  Like with the other ladies in the office, I wasn’t interested, especially with her being a bit pale and redheaded.    One Friday, the district manager was in town.  She came into my office and as usual, she asked how things were going and I replied, “They are going great now that you are here.”   I smirked a bit, knowing my little flirtations wouldn’t amount to much.   “So, are you going to stay in town this weekend or am I going to have to drive up to your place?”   I laughed again and sort of winked as I said it.  I figured that would be that, she would decline and move elsewhere in the office.  

Instead, she immediately replied, “Actually, I was thinking about you before I came down and decided to myself, if Mr. Smith asks me out to dinner tonight I will accept.”   

WHAT THE FUCK.   You have got to be fucking kidding me.   I said that in my head for sure, but my mouth said, “Sounds great!” 

If you’ve seen the movie “3 o’clock High,” that’s how I watched the clock.  It seemed to move in double time.  For the rest of day, I noticed the DM walking casually stopping and looking in my office.  I tried to avoid eye contact, but it seemed like she stand there until I looked up and smile.  My smile was an uncomfortable smile, but I don’t think she noticed.  Hers was a controlling, overbearing grin.   I felt like I was five-years-old again and hungry for crayons.  My fear kicked in and I absolutely did not want to go out with this woman.   As the little boy inside my head told me to run for the door and leave my cell phone on the office desk so she couldn’t call, the grown man told me to man up and get over my fears.  It wasn’t like I had to fuck her or anything.  Sit through dinner, get out as fast as I can, and enjoy the rest of my weekend.

That afternoon, as we were closing up the office, she asked if we should ride together.  She suggested leaving her vehicle there and picking it up later.  I told her that may not be a good idea because of office gossip.  I suggested we take our own vehicles and meet at the restaurant.   I knew I had to get there first so I called her from the car and gave her bad directions.   This gave me plenty of time to get inside the bar and grill and work the bar a bit.   

After she showed up about 30 minutes late, I was definitely buzzed and feeling great.  The restaurant was a bit dark, and she looked a bit less pale, and a bit more brunette.  The alcohol was kicking in.  I thought to myself, Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing.   She sat next to me and ordered a salad and a pina colada.  I apologized for the wrong directions and asked where she was staying for the night.  She looked at me and said, “Your place.”   I laughed a bit and she made a joke about me wanting to get drunk before dinner.  I played it off and replied, “I couldn’t handle a woman like you sober.   You make me too nervous.”   She laughed and said she was warned about the office flirt.   

After about 30 minutes of small talk and drinks, she asked if we could go to my place.  I panicked a bit and told her I live with my parents.  Although I had been out of my parents’ house for years, my drunken mind couldn’t think of a better answer.  She laughed hysterically and patronized me.  “Oh, the big office ladies’ man lives with his parents!”  She laughed again.  “How does coming back to the boss’ hotel room sound?”  I felt trapped, especially because she was my boss.  I responded that I would make sure she got to her hotel safe and that I had to be home early tonight.  Tipsy, she replied that I was so young and probably had a curfew.   I didn’t respond, but she then added, “It’s okay, I imagine this won’t take long.”   I assumed she meant finding a hotel, but I guess it could have been regarding my age and me not lasting long in bed.   

We left the restaurant and headed to a hotel.  She came out to my car after she got her room and asked me to come inside.  My buzz was already wearing off and she was turning back into the abusive pre-k teacher that used to beat me with a ruler.   I declined and reminded her that it may be a bad idea with her being my boss and all.  She looked at me and said “If you were smart, that’s the exact reason it’s a good idea.”  

Was that a threat?  I wasn’t sure, but a bit foggy-minded, I agree and went up to her hotel room.  As I walked into the room she shut the door behind me and tried to rip off my shirt.   Unlike the movies, my polo shirt didn’t have buttons to rip away, and I almost fell to the floor after she yanked.  It was almost like a hockey toss.  I asked what the hell she was doing and she responded drunkenly me to shut up.   I felt trapped by this she-devil and suddenly had an urge to escape.  My fear had come full circle and although she thought what she was doing sexy, I was terrified.  She ripped off her skirt and panties before I could get off the floor.  I tried to get up but she immediately hopped on top of me and shoved her panties in my mouth.  I tried to gag them out but she is held her hands tightly over my face, clawing her fingernails over my cheeks.   She then stood up, putting her foot on my throat.  I saw her bright red bush hovering over me and turned my head to the side like a baby refusing his medicine.  She immediately squatted down and I saw what appeared to be a dagger wound between her thighs covered with red hair.   This was my worst fear and the ugliest vagina I had ever seen.  She rubbed herself on my face, demanding me to stick my tongue inside her.  I refused and tried to get out the words, “condom…..”    She seemed to ignore my request and forced my pants down to my knees.  She pulled my penis out from my boxer hole and forced her mouth on it.  I tried my hardest to not enjoy, but the sensation was too much.   I again asked her to please let me get a condom, and she finally stopped and acknowledged me.  She turned around and said I have one minute.    I got up and waddled to the bathroom with my pants around my ankles.  I was unsure why I didn’t leave immediately.  Whether it was the alcohol reasoning or just the fear, I told myself to put on two condoms and fake ejaculate as soon as I could.  She knew I was young and wouldn’t last long, she insinuated that herself.  I got myself situated and walked out of the bathroom.  I kicked off my pants, which were still down around one leg and looked around the corner.  She jumped out again, fully nude, and threw me on the bed.   I saw her breasts for the first time, but I couldn’t see her nipples.  I am not sure if her nipples matched her pale skin tone, or if she had a thousand nipples that look liked freckles.  Either way, I decided to just close my eyes and think of another woman.

She hopped on me and forced her vagina down on my semi-hard penis. She looked down at me and said she was going to fuck me better than I had ever been fucked.  Her breath smelled awful.  If I could mix a tad bit of ginger with some alcohol and a truckload of horse shit together, that would be her breath.   I felt nauseous.  I began to count down in my head, “10 missisippi, 9 mississippi….” As slow as possible, preparing to fake cum.   I would have started from a higher number but I wasn’t sure if I could stay conscious long enough to finish my count.   Unsure of how to fake an orgasm, I began to twitch and moan.   I yelled out that I was cumming and she immediately started to choke me with her hands.  I remember her saying something like, “You little bitch boy, my pussy is so good you can’t hold your sperm in your balls for five minutes for me?”  I nodded and continued to twitch.   Although my penis was never fully erect, it was progressively getting more flaccid the longer I saw her nude on top of me.   As she felt my penis slide out of her, she got up, laughed and said, “Office flirt huh?”  and slapped my ass. 

I got up, feeling a bit confused and went to the bathroom.   I took my time hoping she would be able to put some clothes on before I got out; I really didn’t want to see another redhead in my life, especially nude.  I took off both condoms and threw them in the trash.  I washed my crotch with soap and hot water, as hot as I could stand it.   I am not sure why she would leave her own room, but maybe she will just leave town or something.  I walked back out into the room and she was lying on the bed fully nude, both legs up in the air with her ass and vagina exposed, rubbing herself.   As I glanced I noticed that her anus looked like a fish mouth with bright red lipstick covered with a red goatee.   She demanded I come lick her everywhere and get her off.   I felt extremely sick and told her I had to leave.   She got up immediately and said, “Fine then, you selfish fuck.”   She walked to the bathroom and slammed the door.  I grabbed my pants and searched around for my shirt.   When I found my shirt, she stormed out of the bathroom holding both condoms in her hand.  I asked her what she was doing and she said, “YOU DID NOT CUM IN THESE!”   Playing dumb, I asked if there was a hole in it.  She then said, “No, there is no hole, I don’t see any cum in here at all.”   A bit startled, I asked her if she seen Finding Nemo.   As men, we dump our semen down the toilet in the slight chance one of our boys make it to the ocean.  She then said, “I smelled both of them, there is no semen smell!”  

I quickly replied, “I eat a lot of pineapples.”

She then looks at me with her evil eyes and says, “I tasted them!” 

Oh my god, this she-devil is insane.  I made a final attempt at redeeming myself, “So maybe you tasted the wrong side.  When I take them off, they flip inside out!”

She ran at me full speed holding a condom in each hand, swinging them as hard as she could and said, “I tasted both sides!!!”

I dropped my shirt and tried to scramble past her.  She scratched my back and hit me in the face with both condoms over and over before I can finally get by her and to the door.  I jumped out into the hallway and ran out to my car.  

Although I loved my job, a few weeks later I was terminated for reasons unrelated to this incident. 

The moral of this story? Redheads are soulless.