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Sunday, April 24, 2005
I Fucked Ann Coulter in the Ass, Hard
I Fucked Ann Coulter in the Ass, HardSunday, April 24, 2005
The Farmer’s Market on Fairfax & 3rd is a Los Angeles landmark, attracting tourists và everyday Angelinos alike, as well as many famous faces. Among the celebrities I have seen there are Muhammad Ali, Terri Garr, Tyra Banks, Laura Linney, Keenan Ivory Wayans, the guitarist for The Cult, Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, & Weird Al Yankovic.
But Ann Coulter is the only celebrity I’ve ever spotted at Farmer’s Market that I wound up fucking in the ass, hard.
It would be fair lớn observe that my feeling obligated to present the các mục of celebrities above in roughly Black-White-Black-White order is indicative of my own carefully Liberal sensibilities. & that this sort of conscientiousness is more than a little ridiculous, on examination. But what I notice about myself only on reflection, Ann Coulter seemed to recognize và respond to lớn in an instant, like a puma recognizes an injured giselle. For Ann Coulter is a predator. A predator with a hungry asshole.
I first spotted her sitting at a table in front of The Gumbo Pot with another woman who looked not unlike her, but a generation older (I neglected to lớn ask her at any point subsequently whether this had in fact been her mother). I vaguely recognized her—there’s always a lag time placing faces you know from cable when unconfined lớn a telescreen—and began to notice, stealing furtive glances up from the copy of Steinbeck I was reading, that she was eyeing me with unsettling scrutiny.
The next thing I knew, her companion (mother?) had left and Coulter was standing over me, looking skeptically at my reading material.
‘The Grapes of Wrath, huh?’
‘Yes’ I said, faking composure. ‘It’s fantastic.’
‘It’s a fantastic primer for vacuous proto-Communists everywhere,’ she said dismissively.
‘I don’t know about that..’
She sighed. ‘I don’t have enough ink in my pen to keep a running các mục of what you don’t know. May I?’
She motioned to the empty chair next khổng lồ me.
‘Of course.’ It would be fair khổng lồ say my voice trembled a little.
She sat and said nothing. Ann Coulter evidently takes an unappreciative view of small talk. That she was eager to lớn continue antagonizing me became evident when I re-opened my recently-insulted book lớn resume reading. A young man passed in a t-shirt proclaiming ‘Iraq Nam’. She stopped him.
‘1. Haircut. 2. Shower. 3. Get a job, you sniveling hippy,’ she glowered. ‘You’re probably too high lớn remember that, so write it down--if you can write.’
He looked at her with dismay & scampered away lượt thích a kicked cat. She turned to lớn me with bloodlust.
‘What vì you think of the war: complete success, or very nearly complete success?’ she asked.
‘Well, in no time—barring the strong possibility of Civil War--we’ll have a democratically-elected anti-US Islamicist government in charge of the world’s second-largest oil reserves, so I’d have to lớn say only very-nearly, on the complete success scale, at a hysterically distorted best.’
She showed her teeth. ‘It sounds to me like you don’t tư vấn our troops.’
‘I think that ‘Support Our Troops’ business is the most crass, craven cowardice ever to lớn go unquestioned by the allegedly Liberal media.’
‘Yes? Yes?’ There was oddly growing excitement in her voice.
‘It allows the Administration to absolve itself of responsibility for its own flawed policy. It’s no different than if you sent a classroom of 2nd graders into a burning building, and when anyone objects you throw in their face that they "don’t tư vấn our 2nd graders"’
‘Where bởi vì you live?’
‘A few blocks away.’
‘Take me there.’
When we got to lớn my apartment, she looked around glumly.
‘I was thinking you’d have half-burned American flags up on the wall,’ she said, disappointed.
‘That’s ridiculous. I love my country.’
‘Whatever you think that means,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t you have anything nasty to lớn say about the President?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like he’s an imbecile, or corrupt, or a corrupt imbecile—the usual sore-loser bitter chatter.’
‘To be honest, I didn’t lượt thích the nasty things that were said about Clinton, và I’ve decided to have respect for the Office, no matter who holds it. I don’t think President Bush is corrupt or an imbecile anyway. Would you lượt thích something lớn drink?’
‘I think maybe this was a mistake,’ she said, starting to go.
‘That’s not lớn say I don’t disagree strongly with many of his policies & objectives.’
She seemed khổng lồ reconsider. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Name one.’
‘Get me a drink first.’
With every point I expressed that ran counter lớn a view she held, she removed one article of clothing. Soon she sat on my couch naked, gently pulling at her untrimmed pubic hair, staring intently but not quite invitingly at me. The growing hard lump in my throat was just outpaced by the one in my pants. I was a little nervous because we had agreed on the last two points—the need to reconsider the option of nuclear energy, and drilling in the Arctic—and I noticed her oversized nipples were no longer hard.
Luckily, she was, by this point, determined.
‘What vị you think,’ she began provocatively, ‘of the President’s plan to lớn privatize Social Security?’
I sighed with relief; this was as sure a promise khổng lồ seal the giảm giá as her asking if I had a condom.
‘I think it’s a payoff to lớn the Americans the President has always been most intent on pleasing: the richest 1%.’
‘What vày you mean?’ she cooed. I noticed her nipples hardening once more. She dropped to her knees in front of me. She pushed me backwards & positioned my legs up in the air.
‘A stock’s value is even now only partially tied to the actual value of any publicly traded company. But who’s going khổng lồ profit from inflated valuations when stock prices swell irrationally from the forced, artificial injection of capital?
Her breath was hot on my ‘taint as she lifted my scrotum. ‘Yes? Yes?’
‘You might as well shoehorn billions of dollars into the Baseball thẻ market. The price of a Derek Jeter rookie will be driven up khổng lồ hundreds of thousands of dollars—before the bubble bursts and the whole market crashes massively.’ It was getting hard khổng lồ stay on point as she tongue-fucked my shitter vigorously.
‘Don’t..Stop!!’ her contorted mouth pled from my butthole.
‘The đứng top 1% will sell stocks at the inflated valuations lớn the novice investors-by-necessity, the market will swell & crash, & the same 1% will come back and re-purchase their holdings at pennies on the dollar. Meanwhile, Social Security will go bankrupt và all the novice investors will be eating catfood for the duration of their "golden years,"’ barring a massive Federal bailout several hundred times in excess of what the Savings và Loan scandal cost us.’
She sprung up on the couch on all fours và looked over her shoulder at me. She pointed to lớn her twitching, puckered anus. ‘See this?’
I nodded eagerly.
‘I want you lớn wreck it.’
I spit on my skeezer-pleaser and, prying her ass cheeks apart like a hot dinner roll, drove it home, into the biggest browneye I had ever seen. She gurgled contentedly. Every thrust of my babymaker was met with a wrenched squeal as I grabbed her by the hips & began really leaning into it.
‘Harder!’ she begged, ‘Harder!! Tell me what you think of Chomsky!’
‘I..think..he’s..brill..iant..but..I..don’t really agree with much of his stance on Israel, and--’
‘You’re slowing down!’ she snapped. ‘DON’T SLOW DOWN!’
I went back to punishing her asshole, giving no thought whatsoever khổng lồ compassionate conservatism as her chocolate socket gnawed on my pork pipe. She was babbling now, as out of a delirious reverie.
‘Feed it," Ann Coulter rasped. "Feed my hungry asshole!"
I buried her face in a throw pillow và she swiveled her hips back on my fuckstick with obvious appreciation. My pace quickened as my man-magma built towards eruption.
‘Wait!’ she gasped, sensing the fuse on my yogurt cannon was burning quick. ‘I want lớn take you ass-to-mouth!’
I withdrew from her puckerhole with an audible ‘pop’ and she scrambled around, gulping at my wang-dang-doodle as though the lives of all her loved ones hinged on her marks for enthusiasm. Her eyes rolled up pleadingly as she threw her head down again and again on my magic johnson. I knew what she wanted.
‘There is a specter haunting Europe,’ I began, & she started to convulse spasmodically with her own thrashing orgasm, her head now dribbling in a blur against my groin. I repeated every Karl Marx quote I could think of until I reached my own ‘historic inevitability’ & launched surge after surge from my hairy boda bag. I ejaculated with what seemed like enough force khổng lồ blow out the back of her head--but her head was made of stronger stuff. She sputtered, gobbled & gulped what I’d have to gọi a very liberal, even radically so, quantity of hot splooey.
Once she caught her breath, she wiped her mouth, stood, & took me by the hand.
‘Let’s go lớn the bathroom.’
‘Why?’
She seemed surprised I had khổng lồ ask. Her tone was that of someone reminding another of something too obvious khổng lồ need mention.
‘Uh, so I can get in the tub và you can piss all over me?’
I sat in a robe and watched her as she dressed.
‘Will I see you again?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Sure,’ she said, pointing khổng lồ the TV. ‘On that.’
Some moments passed. I tried lớn dispel the awkward silence.
‘Well, nice meeting you,’ I offered.
‘You’ve really got a gift for tedious small talk,’ she shot back.
I was a little hurt and, recognizing this, she softened just a shade as she reached for her purse to leave.
‘Hey.’
‘Yes?’ I asked.
‘Thanks for not staring at my adam’s apple.’
‘No problem.’
She let herself out without another word, and I sat in the late afternoon silence alone. I considered how it felt lớn be a disposable instrument in someone’s personal debasement fantasy.
