THE CARNAL CRAVINGS OF CONNIE KIEW [F] [STR] Fiction

This story is dedicated to Joe Hendra who’s untimely death has guaranteed us a zombie-apocalypse by there being no more room in hell, and to my mother whom will thankfully never read this, and by skittles, and with Jay Mathers as the Beaver…

Connie Kiew knew that she had finally found love.

Of course, she had told herself that many times before, but this time it was different. This was real. Granted, she had said that to herself many times before as well, but this time it was different. This time she meant it. OK, so she had also said that many times before too, but this time she knew that she meant it.

She didn't know, exactly, how she knew that what she was feeling was, indeed, true love. It just wasn't something that one can put into words which, for me, is pretty convenient.

Connie had always had a passionate love for white men, and on her five-year and two-week quest to find love, she had sampled a wide variety of Caucasian males in every size, shape and color, and just when it all seemed so hopeless, she had finally met her ivory prince at the ripe old age of 18.

She had become quite jaded at that point. Even a little discontented with the type of man she so adored. It seemed that while her sincere love of the Caucasian male revolved around their advancement on America's social latter and the size of their genitals, their interest in her seemed far more superficial; they usually seemed to date her out of mere curiosity; often asking her absurd questions, like whether or not the lips of her Virginia went from side-to-side instead of up-and-down or, after preforming oral-sex upon her, asking if it would only be an hour before wanting to eat her again.

Looking back, she sometimes wished that she had never slept with Seth Mcfarlane. God, he was annoying! But that, like Mr. Mcfarlane's penis, was all buried behind her; she had finally met Mr. Right!

She had met Stewart Wright at the place where so many long term relationships had been formed; a seedy pick-up bar located somewhere in Manhattan. As mentioned, she had become somewhat weary of white men, but had decided to try her luck anyway as it was the only for this story to progress.

It started just like any other night; some dirty sleaze-bag came up to her in the bar and started cracking jokes about her ethnicity in the hopes of enticing her into drinking his seaman.

She never knew why so many men tried this approach; it had only worked on her about three or four times before, yet man after man insisted upon using it. Sometimes it annoyed her to the point were she would have to fuck the guy just to get him to shut up, and even then they never seemed to get the hint. Men are such perplexing creatures.

Oh yeah, so this guy approached Connie and the bar and told her that he was a connoisseur of Asian cuisine, a statement he ended with, "Hell, I've been eating pussy for years." followed by needlessly hysterical laughter. Connie just rolled her eyes, "Looks like another one of those nights." she thought to herself, taking another sip of her vodka tonic and that's when she heard a voice coming from the other side of the bar; a strong, masculine voice that bravely shouted six words that, right off the bat, caused Connie to moisten with desire; "Shut the fuck up, you asshole!"

"You don't get it?" replied the dirty, uncultured bum, "She's Asian. Those people eat cats. It's fuckin' funny!" Steward (that's the guy standing up for her in case you weren't paying attention) went on to explain that making such a statement, even in the form of a "joke", was thoughtless, ignorant, culturally-insensitive and more than a bit xenophobic. That it was degrading to Connie to be viewed as a dated ethnic stereotype than as a real person. "Her people don't even eat cats," Stewart explained, "They eat dogs."

Connie was amazed. Never before had she witnessed such a supreme example of cultural understanding and racial sensitivity. It seemed like such a rare quality in white man and in all her years in pursuing them, none had ever stood up for her like that. Connie immediately made the decision that Stewart Wright wound have the privilege of running his tank through her Tienanmen Square.

The very moment Connie set foot in Stewart's house she was spellbound. At long last she had met a man that truly appreciated her rich cultural heritage. The walls were covered in the finest Asian art-work; young school-girls with eyes the size and shape of dinner plates being sexually-molested by muscle-bound squid-demons and slimy space octopussies (Author's note: I'm well aware that the plural for octopus is in fact, octopi, but I'm writing porn here), but what caught her attention the most was a western piece; a one-panel comic strip in the center of his refrigerator that featured an old man sitting naked in an easy chair, with three frightened and well-bound girls of about 8 or 10 years of age, sitting firmly in his grasp and a lecherous grin plastered on his face. In front of them was a television with a voice-bubble asking, "It is eleven o'clock … do you know where your children are?" Connie had to love a guy with a good sense of humor.

Stewart wore an itchy tweed sweater, tight denim blue jeans and an old fashion whale-bone girdle (fuckin' hipster!), probably worn so that he could fit into the aforementioned blue jeans.

"Excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable." He said in a Mae West-like fashion (fuckin' hipster!) before waddling sensuously out of the room. Connie sat on Stewart's couch and pasted the time by playing thumb-wars with herself and then arguing with herself over whether or not she won until he got back. When Stewart returned, he was dressed in a black-leather mask and cape, with a pair of nylon stocking pulled up to his crotch. "Hi." said Connie.

"On your knees you submissive little worm!" Stewart kindly replied, "Sloppily suckle my slippery schlong and my saggy sack until the sticky seamen seeps! Then slowly slurp my sticky seamen like soda 'til I say stop! You understand, you, um, scandalous slut?"

Such a cunning linguist! Connie never could resist a man so good with words. Eagerly, she complied; slowly she sucked his slippery schlong until, you know, all that stuff he said…

"Now I must eat you while I regain my erection!" said Stewart, "Lie back and let me feast upon your pretty, pink pussy until my prickly, uh, prick is hard enough to, uh, poke your pubic, um…Get on the bed and spread 'em, bitch!"

Well, it was still more clever than any of the dialogue in 'Hard Candy'; Connie lied back and allowed Stewart return the favor; the sweet and sensuous gift of salivating over your partner's genitals. If there is anything in this world more beautiful, I'd rather not know about it.

As he pushed his mouth deeper and deeper into the folds of her vagina, he continued to recite lofty romantic dialogues which would have driven Connie mad if she could only understand what the hell he saying. Once Stewart's member was hard again, he pried his mouth from Connie's cunt, removed his tongue from her uterus and stroked his member for a few more seconds, keeping it nice and firm, before plunging it…right back into Connie's mouth. Not quite what she was anticipating, but what the hell; she couldn't complain. Not with her mouth so full of meat and hair.

Stewart lifted Connie's head with both hands and began fucking her throat; thrusting quickly and firmly, in and out of her larynx like a train entering a tunnel and backing out of the tunnel and entering the tunnel, and backing out of the tunnel and entering the tunnel and…it just became apparent that the tunnel analogy may not the most appropriate, but I can't think of a better one so I guess we're stuck.

Anyway, the speed of Stewart's thrusts began to increase; becoming faster and harder like a train entering a tunnel. Connie's face turned beet red and sweat poured down her face. Her eyes began to water; tears running down her cheeks, merging with the gag-fluid that was now spilling from the sides of her mouth.

Connie's nose started to run and snot began to slide down her upper lip; dripping onto Stewart's cock and sliding down to his balls along with her other bodily fluids.

Suddenly, Steward removed himself from Connie's throat, pulled her head back forcefully and smacked her on the face with his cock about 14 times (Author's note: That's only an estimate. It's hard to get the full picture through a keyhole) before pushing Connie back down on the bed and sitting on her chest; whereupon he proceeded to rub his testicles on her face, coating her with a fine mixture of spit, sweat, snot and gag-fluid (I don't know if there's a name for this substance, so we'll just refer to it as, "Florida tap water"). It was the most liberating experience of Connie's life!

Stewart was such a fine specimen of man-hood; so strong. So confident. A man who knew exactly what suited him and wasn't shy about getting it. Connie's admiration for this man was raising more and more as she turned her head and vomited into the trashcan located at the side of the bed.

At first, Connie was worried that she may have spoiled the mood, but her fears were put to rest when Stewart swiped a small handful of vomit off her chin and used it to lubricate himself.

"Such a resourceful man, too!" Thought Connie as Stewart rubbed down his genitals with steaming, dark-green bile, all the while whistling 'Sinning In The Rain' quietly to himself and stopping on occasion to burst into an inexplicable fit of giggles. "And so thoughtful! Most guys just assume that it's the woman's job to lubricate!"

Once Stewart had finished lubricating, Connie laid back, spread her legs as far apart as she could and took in a deep breath in preparation for the highlight of the evening's festivities! With one hard thrust, Stewart's wet, dripping member had entered Connie's throbbing clitoris, the fresh vomit burning the interior of her vagina like a train entering a tunnel, Connie felt as though her sugar walls were being to caramelized (special thanks to Sheena Easton for inspiring that joke).

However, the pain was really quite brief and faster than you could say, "Why the fuck am I still reading this?" she was overcome with ecstasy.

As they fucked, Stewart continued to whisper sweet nothings into Connie's ear, "You like this, you slant-eyed slut? Well, do ya'? Tell me ya' chink bitch!" Connie couldn't help but chuckle; Steward never mentioned having met Harvey Wienstien, but his impression of him was dead on and, as I mentioned before, she loves a guy with a sense of humor!

As for Stewart's question, Connie parted her lips and moaned "Yes!" but this did not seem to satisfy Stewart as he just kept asking, "You like this, bitch? Huh? You like it when I fuck you?

You like it when I stick my big white cock in your little Asian pussy, you exotic little whore?" The non-stop inquiries caused Connie to emit a steady stream of 'yeses' in the hopes of answering his questions, Les she come off as rude, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Apparently, Stewart had something of a hearing problem. No big deal. Connie wasn't the shallow-type; she would never discard of a relationship based on something so superficial.

Stewart was a wonderful guy and that was all that mattered.

At last, Stewart pulled out. A gushing waterfall of hot translucent Connie-cum soon followed; bursting out from between her legs like a broken dam, soaking the bed sheets and scaring the cat (Oh yeah, Stewart had a cat. I think I forgot to mention that). Connie sat up and screamed in ecstasy; biting her lips, pulling at her hair, waxing the floor boards and doing all that other shit, I'm assuming women do once they reach orgasm! (Author's note: This, of course, is not to say that I am unfamiliar with the female orgasm; I've seen porn).

Once the excitement had finally dissipated, Connie let her body go limp; plopping down freely upon the now soggy bed, whereupon she lit a cigarette began reading 'Catcher In The Rye'…

…but Stewart wasn't satisfied…

"I don't think you came enough for me." he said. "I'm gonna have to fuck you some more."

"What, are ya' kidding?" Connie thought, "I've already converted your platform into a fuckin' waterbed!" But Stewart insisted. Once again he fell upon her, trusting his puke-encrusted cock deep into her bowels.

"Oh god, stop!" Connie moaned, "I can't take it!"

But Stewart wouldn't hear of it and he fucked her harder in defiance.

"Seriously, stop it!" Connie begged, "You're in my navel!" But Stewart's thrusting only continued; relentlessly and without mercy!

"This is payback, you Buddha-headed bitch!" Stewart said soothingly, "My grandfather died in 1943 defending America from little nipper creeps just like you! I'll bet all your ancestors are watching you, right now! Wouldn't that be a fuckin' kick and a half? Making them sit and watch, as one of their petite little jap-bitches gets her pussy ripped apart by an enormous white pecker! Look at me, Hirohito, you butt-ugly son of a bitch! Watch me do to one of your women what all you pocky-eating punks did to Peal Harbor! See how she succumbs to my will like an obedient dog; not that I fuck dogs, which I totally don't! You thought you couldn't be beaten! Not by the likes of us! You thought all us Americans were just bunch of overweight children, didn't you? But we were the first to have bested you in battle and now we fuck you women, just like we fucked your little, yellow country! Not bad for a nation of fat men and little boys, huh? You were, are, and will forever be a snap, Mr. Jap!"

As he spoke, he slapped Connie around some and bit into her nipples until he drew blood. Connie was impressed. Only a well-educated man with a flair for vivid storytelling could create such an enticing blend of world history and kinky role-play. The fact that her ancestry was, in fact, Chinese didn't even seem to matter as she gracefully surrendered herself to Stewart; allowing her head to tilt back onto the pillow and her eyes roll all the way back into her skull (eww!) as she groaned in rapture (Author's note: No that was not a Blondie reference).

Finally, Stewart pulled himself out of Connie and, after removing some bellybutton lint, bent forward as far as he could and sucked his own cock until his mouth was full of several very irritable sperm cells. "Where the fuck are the eggs?!" They shouted almost in unison, "Is Stew doing kinky shit again?!"

Again, Stewart descended upon Connie's nether regions, peeling apart her pussy lips; spreading them open as far as he could before pressing his own lips directly into Connie's now gaping orifice and spitting the entire mouthful of rich, white cream all the way up her vaginal canal. In no time at all, Stewart was overcome by a title-wave of womanly juices; ruining the freshly waxed floorboards, drowning the cat and pissing off the already irate sperm cells.

"I love this man!" Thought Connie. "I really, truly love this man! Wait, where the hell is he?"

Just then, Stewart emerged from a lake of warm, fluids, "Shall we call it a night?" he asked, after spitting out another mouthful of genital-secreted liquid.

Connie, not knowing what else she would call it, nodded in agreement. They retired to the guest bedroom (the master bedroom was temporarily unavailable due to flooding. Har-har!)

Stewart had carried her to his bed, gently laying her down upon the soft, cozy mattress. As he softly draped the warm polyester sheets and snug down comforter over her fragile frame, Connie thought back to her childhood, back to when her father used to tuck her in at night. This was very much the same feeling, only better because she had just gotten laid.

Stewart slipped in right beside her and kissed her tenderly on the lips, "Goodnight, my oriental flower." he said before rolling over and falling fast asleep.

Connie was dismayed.

"Oriental!" She screamed silently to herself, the realization hitting her like a train punching a tunnel; "Did that white-trash, redneck, pig-fucker really just refer to me as an oriental?!"

That's when Connie knew that it was time to find a new man.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/3mb2e0/the_carnal_cravings_of_connie_kiew_f_str_fiction