New Years Eve - 2 Eve?s At War (lucia vs angela)
New Years Eve - 2 Eve?s At War (lucia vs angela)
The streets were a mirror of the sky - full of fires and stars and explosions and thunder and smoke!
It was New Year?s Eve in S?o Paulo Brazil!
With an area of 588 square miles and 11,105,249 passionate mongrel souls, black African animism, chthonic Amazon animal spirits and Catholic choirs of angels and demons whored and bred a million mescaline fever dreams of erotic mind and body.
Boy-girls with baby Bambi faces and powerful spurting cocks strutted,coal eyes blazing in slum door-ways, pit-fighting bitches of 11 years and up fought like crazed roosters in garbage dump staged death-fights, street gangs of feral children that numbered in the hundreds per gang swarming like rabid reptilian rats through ghettos on stinking shanty covered hills that stretched out so far it took armor plated limousines hours to cross from side to side. No Mardi Gras nor State Holiday equaled New Years? Eve in the 7th largest cluster of sweating, fucking, praying and hustling humanity on Earth.
And S?o Paulo?s metropolitan skyscrapers were like spaceports of the future built on prehistoric jungle worlds. Oh God, it was ?Heart of Darkness? as written by William Burroughs and then re-written by William Gibson.
Kardecist French spiritualism spewed like burning sewage from Bassa Nova singers strolling through the mob past alleyways - alleyways in which Gypsy Priestesses swung headless birds in Voodoo chicken sacrifices - and all of the lovers and lost souls in the cobbled streets made way for the processions of self-flagellating Catholic choir-boys, all streaming blood and vomiting apocalypses.
And all this called to me as I sat drinking absinth in the the Cafe? Parisian Risque in which motot-mouthed Portuguese street merchants, black skinned Columbian and Cuban drug lords and whores of very zoo-like variety danced and wrestled between me and the live fuck act on the little stage beside the glittering bar.
?You like Sampa, sweetheart?? my whore Lucia giggled into my ear, her snake wet tongue twisting deep in and out, begging me to just drag out my throbbing cock and slide it up her thigh past her bikini panties and into her ravenous cunt. Oh Sampa, you glorious whore , you hole of poverty, you Tower of Babel made of drug money! Sampa is the name the people in the streets have for the city known to the world as S?o Paulo.
This I did fuck her right then and there, laughing like a fool. Every one fucking. Everyone was fighting and singing and yelling with animal lust. She is seventeen, 5?7? with caramel skin and a 34 DD bosom,... and her ass? Do you have to ask? She is a female child of Holy Unholy Brazil!
She acted on a sexy TV series for Telemundo until her last boyfriend was machine gunned to death on a toilet in the Paris Hilton. He was a drug lord they say. So she was written out of the series and into my life.
She looks like a young Claudia Cardinale or Monica Bellucci and she twists dancing as I pump my cock in and out of her gushing cunt. She wriggles her tongue, drooling like the rabid bitch she is, and as the carnival cacophony screams I scream and spew sperm up her whore-hole. Her boobs bounce and swing wildly barely restrained by her green bikini bra. I grab her boobs for dear life, shouting into her face as I squirt burning streamers of man jelly into her uterus.
Suddenly her eyes flash wide and her mouth makes an ?o? of shock as a powerful female arm yanks her off my cock.
Oh fuck! Oh fuck! It is my landlady Angela, who foolishly thinks a powerful week long sheet yellowing fuck seize in her bed in any way made me her man. Angela is half Irish Jewess half haughty Brazilian goddess of sex. She is wearing a beaded blue bra, choker, and tiara indicating she is a devotee of the sea goddess Yemanja. She is a stormy sea, and wants to wage a war, woman against woman! He cantaloupe sized breasts sway freely from her ribs, and she shines with the sweat of priestess madness.
The crowd, with some nameless animal instinct makes room for the fight. The fight! The fight!
The two barefoot girls circle each other, their brown bare feet making wet footprints on the baked adobe tiles of the cantina floor. Their breasts are equal! Their fabulous soft tummies are equal! Their half moon ass-cheeks are equal! Their beautiful goddess faces are equal! THEIR HATE IS EQUAL!
Snarling her cute face into an animal mask, Lucia lashes out with her right foot into Angela?s naked cunt, for she is only wearing a cotton skirt tied about her luscious waist.
Angela hoots and fires a left hook into Lucia?s grinning mouth. Blood spurts over my lover?s white teeth! Lucia staggers back, grabbing the advancing whore by the shoulders and kneeing her in the wet belly again and again.
Going OOPH OOPH OOPH with each knee to her tummy Angela makes her stomach hard, and grabbing Lucia?s tits, tears her bra away. Boobs go crazy! Lucia tears Angela?s bra off and now, dressed to fight for real, both big bosomed girls stand toe to toe slugging it out like prize fighters.
Noses are broken and mouths stream blood like wine. I roar with the crowd for bright red blood! Whore blood! More and more Blood!
Now the girls, naked from the waist up, embrace and boobs smashed together and wiping wetly back and forth, dance wrestling and fighting, tearing glorious handfuls of hair out of each others head, cursing, and yelling, kneeing and head-butting each other in turns.
Lucia claws Angela?s freckled face and breasts, raking deep purple furrows in her soft girl flesh. Angela grabs Lucia?s breasts and twists them like taffy, yanking them out and then punching them in, like loaves of bread dough. Lucia twists and throws Angela over her wide hips onto her back on the tiles. Angela windmills her legs like an egg-beater keeping Lucia at bay.
A drunken sailor moon drags Lucia back so Angela can get back on her feet. Half the crowd cheers. Half the crowd boos.
Now they charge each other pummeling breasts and skulls desperately. Angela drops and hurtles forward under Lucia?s arms, putting her full body weight into a brutal right uppercut into the soft spot just under Lucia?s breast bone. Lucia drops to her knees, unable to breath!
Angela grabs Lucia?s head by two handfuls of wet bloody matted hair, and yanks her head down as she fires her right knee up three savage times into the center of Lucia?s face, caving in her front top and bottom teeth, and pulping her lovely nose.
Lucia turns into a helpless rag, eyes rolling up into her head.
Angela contemptuously throws Lucia down full length on her back and kicks her knees apart. To my horror and delight, Angela rips Lucia?s bikini bottom off and buries her face into Lucia?s crotch, jaws working. Suddenly Lucia?s eyes pop open wide and she screams like a throat cut sow.
Angela wrenches her magnificent head like a pit bull with a dead deer, and yanking her face back, spits out a plug of bloody female tissue.
It is Lucia?s clitoris and labia! Lucia propels herself backward gushing blood from her groin and mad with pain and disbelief. But Angela is insane now herself and grabbing a chair, swings it up, shattering Lucia?s jaw and flattening her again.
Merciless Angela baths in the blood lust unhinged mob?s roar of death sport joy. She is the Queen of New Year?s Eve, she is High priestess. She is going to give her goddess a bloody sacrifice.
Lucia is convulsing, quite mindless now, a deer dragged down by a wild bitch.
Angela throws her chair-weapon aside and snatching a long kitchen knife from the breadboard gets Lucia in what is called a school-girl pin. Scooting her ass back, she slits Lucia?s throat and even as the jugular sprays spew a yard from each side of her fallen enemy?s neck, she, with regal calm, de-breasts Lucia, who shudders and mercifully passes out.
Holding Lucia?s bosoms over her head like trophies, Angela makes a winner?s circuit of the crowd in the bar, tongue kissing every man and woman, letting everyone grope her blood and sweat covered torso. Oh glorious she is!
All laugh to see a starving street kitten gobble up that which Angela had spitted out!
Angela returned at last to me and sat boldly on my no hard cock and began to dance with me.
Oh Sampa, you glorious whore , you hole of poverty, you Tower of Babel made of drug money!
It is my destiny to go to my own Hell here, here which is also my passion, my heaven!
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