Sitting at his computer, Marcus took himself in hand, stroking slowly, being careful not to get too close to cumming. He had a bet with that doll, Alice, about who could get the other to cum first, and he was damned if he was going to lose.
They took turns reading Lush stories over the phone while they both masturbated, non-stop. The one who came first had to forfeit to the other. And Alice had a vicious sense of humor when it came to forfeits…
He finished reading a story by an author in Brooklyn that Alice had picked out, then sighed while continuing to stroke.
“Damn,” he said into the phone, “I’d sell my soul to fuck some of these writers, sight unseen! Their writing is just so damned hot!”
It was almost corny the way the demon appeared. “Would you?” it said, while the sulphurous smoke cleared.
“Oh, fuck me. A demon? Really?”
The demon smirked, “Really. So, would you sell your soul to fuck not just some of these authors, but all of them? And let’s make it interesting: how about I give you the – damnedest – twenty-four hours of your life, and offer you an orgy with all of them in one room – say the ballroom at the Waldorf in New York?
“And I’ll make it sweeter still: you can cum as often as you like, no physical limits. But wait! If you act now, you can add as many other people as you like, and they’ll all be as horny as you are, and last just as long!”
Marcus sat back and thought for a while, while continuing to stroke. “What about STDs and pregnancies? Hangovers, sore pricks and pussies, and broken marriages? Poor health making it impossible for people to participate? Unattended health hazards, parking tickets, legal summonses, businesses left unattended, threats of violence or war ignored? It could be an expensive twenty-four hours for the participants. And most of the people involved won’t know each other, so they would have to have some kind of identifiers.”
The demon waved it away, “Easy, easy. And there’ll be no STDs, no pregnancies, no hangovers, no unsolved problems, no – pardon me – blow-backs from this.”
Another pause, then Marcus smiled. “And I’d love to share the wealth. Suppose I wanted gang-bangs and orgies in my name across the globe. Doable?”
The demon smirked, “Easy as hair-pie. You forget: sex is our specialty! And I’ll make sure everyone will know it was you that’s responsible!” it said with a knowing smirk. “But only for twenty-four hours.”
Marcus thought for a moment more, then said, “Deal,” and offered his hand.
The demon looked at the pre-cum covered hand with distaste, then gingerly shook it. The hand, that is. “Deal. Your twenty-four hours will start when you get your engraved invitation. Now, who’s on our invite list?” He caused a red-bound notebook to appear, along with a quill pen dripping blood and started taking notes.
“In-person? Every author who’s published at least one story on Lush.”
“Easy, although we’ll have to stretch the size of the ballroom. Next?”
“Outside of the ballroom? Everyone.”
The demon looked up, “What do you mean, everyone?”
“I mean everyone in the world. All humans over the age of sixteen, everywhere. I want them all to have rip-roaring sex with anyone over sixteen. All inhibitions gone, all social mores released, no guilt, no neuroses, no psychoses, no STDs, no pregnancies, no sore appendages, no health issues, no troubling, worldly problems – just twenty-four hours of wet-making, mind-blowing, cock-sucking, cunt-licking, ass fucking, mouth-sticking, tit-pulling, dick-slicking sex.”
The demon broke out in a sweat. “Everyone?” is said in high, squeaky voice.
“Everyone – or I’ll make it known that Hell has no mas, and can’t deliver on its promises. What’ll that do for your business?”
The demon looked sour, then closed its book with a snap. “Okay. Everyone. But enjoy your day – because afterwards, your ass is mine!”
And it vanished.
****
Kim was working on a story when an invitation appeared in mid-air before her:
“Your presence is required for an Orgy to Celebrate Lush. All your inhibitions, hang-ups, and hesitations are hereby revoked for 24 hours. You may bring as many people as you’re having sex with in 30:00 minutes…29:59…” The time printed on the invitation continued to count down.
Kim stood up abruptly. She was a great writer, but personally very shy. Yet, suddenly she didn’t feel shy, she felt – horny. She started to strip off her clothes, and thought to herself that the new young couple that just moved in across the street looked rather…tasty. Dropping her panties at the door, she swayed across the street and knocked.
When the young man answered, he was shocked to see his naked neighbor at the door, and was just about to close it when she breathed on him. Her pheromones changed his mind. He looked at Kimmi with lustful eyes, then called, “Dear! Would you please come to the door…"
****
Louise stopped, the paddle in mid-air, while her blindfolded and gagged partner continued to cringe on his hands and knees. After reading the invitation, she dropped her paddle, and went to get her strapless strap-on. She decided she’d peg him and carry him to the orgy on it…
****
Elle woke up. It was the middle of the night where she lived. She had been sleeping next to her partner when the summons arrived. She got out of bed, stripped off her nightdress, jumped back into bed, and started to lick his cock. If I’m coming, she thought to herself, he’s cumming with me…
****
The man leaned over, ruffled the neck of the basset hound slumped next to his desk. “Well, Stormy, I guess I’m going to a party.”
He chuckled, and lifted his athletic form out of the chair. “I guess I’d better decide what I’m not going to wear…”
****
As Kerry, whom everyone called “Buster”, looked at the invite, her eyebrows climbed while she absorbed the news. Slipping her clothes off and dropping them to the floor, she went into the next room, where her husband was watching a video. She stood behind him then reached her hand into his pants to cradle his cock. “Honey,” she breathed into his ear, “We’re going to an orgy. Why don’t we take that red-head next door with us, hmmm? You know we both like red heads. So, would you rather start on the top or the bottom?” she asked.
****
Marcus got his summons, looked sad for a moment, then went upstairs to make love to his wife. He might never get another chance, and he wanted her to be with him at the End, before he went to Hell.
****
The empty ballroom was suddenly full. Startled Lushies and their “guests” appeared all at once, but the transition was so unexpected that they stood for a moment in shock.
Most of them had good friends at Lush, but didn’t know them in person. But they started to notice that tattooed above their naked, left breasts were both their Lush names and their real-life names.
Off to one side, the DJ started things going. He was an older, seemingly battle-scarred man with real name CARL tattooed on his chest, and started bopping to the music of “Love Shack,” by the B-52s.
Then Carl had a brainwave, grabbed a piece of cardboard from one of the boxes of booze from the bar next to him, borrowed a marker, and, with a big grin wrote, “1 BJ = 1 Request!”
Meanwhile, a rumpled looking man behind the bar started fielding requests from the guests for beer, drinks, shots, coffee, and Cock-tails, moving with dextrous speed that belied his appearance. He was blinking rapidly, and smiling broadly, as if he was suddenly seeing things he hadn’t for a long time. His chest said “BILL.”
Very quickly, two long lines formed; one for drinks, and the other people, especially, but not exclusively women, who seemed determined to start off by hugging him, and then trying to drag him into something far steamier. He kept chuckling, then shooing them away. “It’s too soon, but thanks, hon…” he repeated over and over. But he wasn’t above copping a quick feel along the way.
By now, the DJ was blasting away, the joint was rockin’, and there was another long line of people, mostly women, seemingly eager to give – or receive – requests, whether or not they had any interest in music. Carl kept spinning the tunes, with an enormous, shit-eating grin on his face, while people, one after another, ministered to his nether regions.
And yet, for all their vaunted abilities at writing about steamy sex, the assembled crowd mostly seemed oddly hesitant to do it.
Just then, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, a slender, naked woman with long, slightly ginger hair and ANNIE tattooed on her chest, jumped up on a table and shouted above the conversations, “For FUCK’S SAKE! What kind of a Cocksucking orgy is this! You wankers need to get it up! It’s time to PPAAARRRRTTTTYYYYYY!” she yelled.
She grabbed a bowl of guacamole from the table, poured it down her front, rubbed it around her tits and groin, then faced a crowd of men and women nearby, shouted, “FUCK!…ME!” and leapt onto the crowd.
They received her with open hands, and soon the mob was a mass of clutching, thrusting, heaving bodies, with Annie right in the middle of it, a big smile, plus a great deal of cum, on her face.
And that was all it took to get the party started. First, people started pairing up. Then combinations of greater numbers started writhing and heaving on the floor.
Eventually, a snake-like conga-line appeared, with mounds squirming against butts, as dozens of people copulated in a seemingly endless trail of tail, moving rhythmically along the floor, with cries and moans being the call of this Beast with 100 Backs.
The demon stood next to Marcus, and said, “Having fun, son?”
Marcus looked at it sourly and said, “You ain’t my daddy. Show me what’s happening in the rest of the world.”
The demon sighed, the waved his claw and scenes appeared, flickering, one after the other.
****
It was nighttime in Hong Kong, where a mob of masked rioters faced off against a line of police. Rocks were hurtling across the barriers as the line of police advanced, threatening. Tear gas hung in the air.
Then, as if someone flicked a switch, all the noise stopped. Two figures, one protestor, the other a cop, who moments before had been glaring at each other, suddenly straightened up, looked deeply into each other’s eyes, then dropped their weapons, clawed at their clothes, and grabbed each other, kissing, groping, and, finally, fucking wildly.
Quickly, the protest turned into a wild throng of people with nothing but sex on their minds.
****
Two men, both with hawk-like noses, glared at each other over a negotiating table. One wore a keffiyeh and robes, the other a badly fitting Western suit. Suddenly, their gazes softened and they both looked startled.
“Ohhhh, fuck,” one of them whispered. He stood up, walked around the table, shedding clothes as he went, and grabbed the other in a bear hug. Soon, the two were rolling on the carpet. They paused momentarily, breaking their embrace just long enough for one of them to say, “God, I’ve wanted to fuck you for years!”
The other stared at him, “You have.”
Then they got serious with each other’s bodies.
****
“Go back where you came from!" screamed the white woman with stringy, blonde hair and an ugly grimace on her face.
“I grew up in Cleveland!” the dark-complexioned man, wearing a “Black Lives Matter” t-shirt, shouted back.
All along the two, wavering lines, insults were being hurled back and forth. Violence seemed to hang in the air. Then, suddenly, the noise just – stopped. Everyone straightened up, startled.
The first woman looked at her counterpart. Her face softened, then she dropped her hands, walked over to the man and said, softly, “Is what they say about you guys true?”
He smiled at her. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
She sank to her knees, unzipped his fly, and pulled out his manhood. “Oh my,” she breathed, then tried to cram it into her mouth. He grabbed her hair and tried to help.
****
The two soldiers faced each other, their noses mere inches away. They were both dressed in ceremonial uniforms, which looked like something out of a comic opera. The land they were standing on was claimed by both countries, and they had frequently clashed over it, and then backed down from a final confrontation.
This time seemed somehow different. Governments on both sides had publicly entrenched themselves in their positions, posturing for the voters back home. Backing down would mean serious loss of face. This might have seemed comical had not both countries possessed nuclear arms, which both had hinted them might use – if necessary.
The two soldiers stood rigid, seemingly glassy-eyed, attempting to make the other one blink. Confrontation, potentially escalating to a nuclear exchange, seemed disquietingly possible, even as governments the world over worked frantically to find a resolution that one or both sides could accept.
Then, one of the soldiers blinked, and breathed heavily. The other seemed to be struggling to keep a smile from his face. Then both sighed, dropped their weapons, and grabbed each other. At first, watchers on both sides were alarmed that they were fighting, but quickly realized they were – kissing!
The grappling progressed to the point where both men started unbuttoning their own, and their counterpart's, uniforms – at which point, the television cameras were quickly switched off. The men didn't care – they were too much in lust to stop…
****
Scenes like this were being repeated all over the world as Marcus and the demon watched. At first, the demon was gloating, enjoying all the sinful exchanges that were going on, and rubbing its claws in glee, imagining the praise from Satan.
And at first, it seemed like he was right, as people performed all kinds of kinky, degrading, even violent acts with each other, doing things they would never have even imagined had they been in their right minds.
But, as time wore on, the violence started to fade, even among the most die-hard sadists, and strange things began to happen. By the tenth hour of non-stop sex, people seemed to start paying more attention to the needs of their partners, and less to the demands of their genitalia. Scenes of gentleness started to appear, and then spread.
By the fourteenth hour, the demon started sweating. The omniscope was showing people starting to engage in loving exchanges, clearly feeling empathy for each other.
By the sixteenth hour, it was clear that sex had taken a back seat, and that love-making was starting to dominate.
By the twentieth hour, people were breaking off into groups, cuddling and hugging one another, and chatting. Former enemies were talking earnestly, with a lot of nodding, and many looks of shame and disgust, perhaps discussing their past actions.
By the twenty-second hour, people were walking and talking, taking time, every once in a while, to stop, hug, even kiss and make out, occasionally lapsing into passionate, tender love-making. But the main activities were communicating and embracing.
By the twenty-third hour, the demon was screaming and wringing its claws in despair, wondering what would become of it.
****
Meanwhile, at the Lush orgy, people with different kinks were wandering around, hugging each other, comparing notes, and offering tips on plotting, phrasing, writing, and even grammar. Praise flowed more freely than wine, with writers dragging newfound friends over to other friends and demanding that they read this gal’s stuff! A glow of joy and wonder rose up from the crowd.
****
It started with people asking Bill for paper so they could exchange addresses, then escalated to an agreement to share their real contact information online, publicly, and to announce to the world who they were in Real Life.
No one wanted to go home once the time was up, but plans were made for visits on Thanksgiving, Christmas, the Jewish High Holy Days, Ramadan, Diwali, Kwanza, and many more. And a petition was started, demanding an annual Lush Orgy.
****
Meanwhile, the demon was gibbering in fear.
“You tricked me!” it shouted at Marcus. “Jesus, I am SO Screwed!”
Marcus smirked at the demon. “Well, it’s your own damned fault.”
The demon looked at him sharply, “How do you mean?”
“Remember the Vietnam War?”
“Sure, one of my biggest triumphs. What about it?”
“You forgot what the protesters were saying then, didn’t you?”
“What was that?”
“Make love, not war.”
The demon stared at him, then lifted its head and howled.
****
Marcus walked from the demon over to Kim and tapped her on the shoulder. Although she had a line-up of people wanting to hug her, she stopped them, and turned to him, smiling.
“Marcus, you’ve done us all a pile of good. How did you do it?”
“That’s kind of why I’m here, Kimmi. I sold my soul to the Devil, and now I need a favour.”
Kim looked shocked, and held up her hand to her companions. “You what?”
“I sold my soul. Kim, look, time is getting short, so please…”
She gulped, then nodded.
“Would you please check in on my wife from time to time? It’s going to be hard on her. We’ve been inseparable for a long time.”
Tears appeared in Kim’s eyes, “Count on it, Marcus. And I know everyone else will as well.”
Marcus smiled, then leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you. Maybe you’d ask Alice, Kerry, and Michelle to help? I think they’d be willing.”
“You know they will, Marcus. We all will.” She leaned up on tip-toes and kissed him on the forehead, then grabbed him in a bear hug.
Finally, he pushed himself away, smiled, and walked back to the demon.
“Okay, demon. Do your worst. My time is up.”
****
The demon looked terrified. “I, I, I… I can’t take this to Satan. He’ll crucify me – and not just for three days! What the fuck am I going to do?”
Marcus was surprised at that, then thought for a moment and said, “Well… m a y b e… I can help. If you’re interested.”
The demon looked up hopefully, “You can?”
“Sure. Easy. Just tell him the Big Guy has tapped me to go to Heaven.”
The demon stopped. “Holy Shit! That’s crazy enough that it might just work! Would you back me up on that?”
“Well…”
“PLEASE!”
“Oh, all right. But only on two conditions…”
“Anything. ANYTHING!”
“First, I don’t go to Hell.”
“Fuck no, I don’t want you anywhere near Satan! And what else?”
“Well, humanity gets another 24 hours to party, on the same terms and conditions – and this time, I get to enjoy it. Deal?”
The demon almost tripped over itself, stuttering, “DEAL!”, grabbed Marcus’ hand, then vanished, just as the clock struck twenty-four.
All the Lushies in the ballroom stopped, looked at the clock, then looked at Marcus. Finally, one of them said, “What happened? I thought we were all supposed to be transported back home?”
Marcus’ face broke into a slow smile. “I got us an extension – we’ve got another 24 hours.” A cheer went up that threatened to shake the hall apart.
Finally, Bill spoke up, “And how did you wangle that, you crazy bastard?”
“I just persuaded the demon that it didn’t want you lot in Hell. After all, we’d make the demons look good in comparison, right?”
Bill guffawed. “You sneaky son-of-a-bitch. You told on us!”
There was stunned silence for a moment, then Annie jumped up on a table, scooped up a ladle full of guacamole, flung it at Marcus, hitting him squarely in the face, and yelled, “GANGBANG! Everybody on MARCUS!”
Another almighty roar went up, and everyone surged towards him. Marcus wiped the guacamole out of his eyes, threw back his head, and started laughing, even as he was grabbed from a dozen different directions.
It was going to be quite a day…
