Nasty Thong

by Natasha Kornburgur

and Zeek Zennary

"Harder, harder! Faster, faster!" Natasha cried out in her sleep.

"I'm going as hard and as fast as I can, baby!" cried her sweet sweet lover.

Zeek pushed himself to the limit, pumping his hard member in and out of her sweet, young, nubile, 12-year-old body.

Natasha moaned in her sleep, and moved against him. "Cum on!" she cried, seeking the pot of gold at the end of the long, hard rainbow.

Finally, with one last thrust, he unleashed himself inside her, and then swiftly pulled out, tossing the rainbow-colored (and fruit juice flavored) condom in the overflowing trash can that lay next to the mattress, which itself lay on the floor of his and Natasha's dingy apartment.

Natasha's beautiful green eyes opened then, still clouded from her deep, yet sensual, sleep. "Oh, Zeek," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth down to her heaving bosom, "You were wonderful."

Zeek grinned. "So were you, Natasha!" he exclaimed, tweaking her nose, "For a moment there, I almost believed that you were really 12 years old, and actually a virgin!"

Natasha giggled. "Why, Zeek, thank you for the complement." She looked down at her tiny, nude body. She did have a baby face--and a body to match! Although she was in reality 64 years old (which would make her 46 years older than Zeek), she still looked as fresh and as young as a sweet, 12 year old daisy. She could even pass for a virgin, if she played the part well enough! In fact, she was so good, she could even do it in her sleep--which she had actually just done!

Zeek grinned, and buried his face within her tiny, prepubescent breasts. Menopause had taken a great toll on her. However, now, finally, after all these years, she was able to follow her dream--the dream of becumming a prostitute!

Zeek was her pimp, and a merry old pimp he was, too! He had 26 girls, and slept with all of them on a daily basis, to make sure that everything was still in working order. He also had a deal with them that he got 100% of whatever take they got from walking the streets, just doing their job. But he clothed them, and fed them, and even gave his favorites--such as Natasha--a weekly allowance. To be able to sleep with a man of his talents in bed, even the most haughty, high class whore would stoop down to his level.

Natasha had even given up a cushy escort job just so she could be with him. That was his power.

Zeek sighed, and slapped his girl's nice, round butt. "Time to get up, and go to work!" he told her, "and time for me to get myself up and go to Loretta!" He grinned. Natasha and Loretta were the two most in contest for being his favorite girl. Natasha fulfilled his pedophilic needs, while Loretta gave him his daily dose of S&M. He whistled as he left the room.

Natasha sighed, and a tear fell from her heavily made up eye onto the bed. Oh, what she wouldn't give for Zeek to love her, and to be all hers! Oh, how she had often dreamed of the day when she would marry him ... but that was impossible, as well as illegal. She was, after all, his grandmother.

But with a shrug, she decided that she would never give up on her dream. One day he would wake up, and everything would be gone except her. Then he'd see.

Humming the song "Pretty Woman" incredibly off-key, Natasha rose and went about getting dressed.

"Now where did I put... Oh, there it is!" she exclaimed, brandishing her favorite white thong in front of her. She sniffed it, and then wrinkled her nose. It smelled so sweat and succulent ... she just wanted to eat it all up! It was warm and sweaty from her previous encounter with her pimp, and the brown stain that stained its delicate whiteness was a relic from her wild teenage days, back in ... well, back in whatever decade she had grown up in, not that she could remember any of it now, what with the alzheimer's setting in and all.

So, slipping on her thong, and her favorite, dirty yellowish-brownish-greenish raincoat, she decided that she needed to search for only one more thing to make her outfit complete; her favorite pair of shoes!

She got down on her hands and knees and rubbed her breasts, belly, and clitoris against the carpet. It felt so good, and the carpet was so rough and full of friction, that she had to do it again. And again, and again, and again, until she finally came, staining her thong even more and making it even sweatier than before. She stretched out, and then continued her search for her favorite pair of shoes.

"Oh, here we go!" she exclaimed, finding one beneath the bed and the other on top of the floor lamp. She quickly put them on. The soles and uppers of the pumps were clear, but the heels were white, and had a weird texture that looked kinda like foam. So it looked kinda like she had glued foam to her heels! Although of course, that idea made her laugh. After all, who--other than that attention seeking bitch, Loretta--would glue foam to her heels? Natasha had a hearty laugh over this.

So, wearing her beautiful outfit, she went out in order to find, and have a good time, with well-paying customers.

Unfortunately, the first person she ran into was none other than that rich maniac, Maximillion Dollarsworth, who was one of the 34 possible suspects who could possibly be Zeek's grandfather and/or father (Loretta was, after all, her daughter and Zeek's mom).

"Why, hello, Natasha," he said with a leer, seeing as how the raincoat was barely staying on her shoulders, and, being wide open as it was, gave a nice view of her white thong with the brown stain, as well as the rest of her nubile, sweaty body. "So nice to see you again!"

"Do you wanna do the nasty with me, or not, Max?" she asked him snootily.

Max grinned. "Always, you beautiful young fiend, always!"

So he took her back to his limo and she told him she didn't want to take off her clothes. So, he simply unzipped his exquisitely tailored pants, pushed aside her thong, and went at it.

Natasha sighed. Although he was one of her best customers, and he did pay well, he was a grunter. She absolutely hated grunters!

When it was over, he removed herself and, with a small pat, replaced her thong. Then he handed her a few hundred dollar bills without bothering to count them, and gave her a nice little pat on the butt. "Thanks for a great time," he said, zipping up his pants and kicking the door open for her.

"The pleasure was all mine," she lied, tucking the money in the waistband of her thong.

God! She certainly hoped he wasn't Zeek's daddy or granddaddy!j

So then she went on, walking down the street, until she ran into Pyruvus, the Pyromaniac.

"How's about we go back to my place?" he suggested, fire in his eyes.

"Ok," Natasha agreed.

So they went to his place, where they made fireworks.

Then, afterwards, since it was getting late--nearly 8 am!--he offered to walk her home.

"Why, thank you!" she exclaimed, blowing him a kiss with her lower lips, "That's just so sweet!"

So he walked her back to Zeek's house, where she went inside and tiptoed upstairs to Zeek's bed, where he lay asleep, looking just as innocent as a little angel. She crawled into bed with him, after taking off her soiled white thong with the brown spot, and her rain coat, and her favorite shoes. She snuggled up next to him, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Natasha awoke with a scream.

No, it was not a scream of passion. It was a scream of horror.

Natasha was distinctly reminded of the phrase, "be careful what you wish for." The other infamous proverb, "Never let a pyromaniac walk you home," also came to mind.

Everything around them was burned down, except for her and Zeek. Everything was gone. The other girls were dead, and and entire building in which thye had resided had been burned to a crisp, by the pyromaniac, Pyruvus.

"Oh, no!" she moaned, as Zeek shook his head and wept real tears into his hands.

"What am I going to do now?" he exclaimed, sobbing, "My entire life is ruined!"

"Oh, if only I hadn't let Pyruvus walk me home last night!" Natasha cried, "This is all my fault! Oh, if only there were something I could do."

"There is something you can do," Zeek replied, with cold eyes.

And without another word, she spread her legs, and proceeded, after several long, unending hours, to actually die from too much pleasure.