****** Buenas Noches Roaches by Suzy, the Biker Chick Floozy ******
===============================================================================

Buenas Noches Roaches


This true account is dedicated to women everywhere who read the recent post
'Jodie's Apartment' by Arthur Saxon


Buenas Noches Roaches


Splat. "Take that you motherfucker!" Splat. "Another male chauvinist bites the
dust."

I had taken to whacking the crickets that invaded my home with an oar. A
Hookmaster two and a half foot long oar which is very light and comes in quite
handy often.

That oar has never been in a boat. Not only is that oar great for smacking
bugs, mice or whatever, it is perfect for spanking. My personal preference is
for a bare hand on my ass, with or without panties, but some dudes like it
harder.

Crickets make so damn much noise when they get in the house you can't even
sleep. "Chirp, chirp, chirp." And it's the male crickets that make the racket.
Some sort of love song directed at the object of their affection. These horny
crickets were really pissing me off.

Once I even had a squirrel in my house. Let me tell you that little shit was
hard to catch but I got him. Right, him. The taxidermist told me so. That
squirrel is now "shit on a stick" and that's what I call him when I show him
off. I had him stuffed and mounted on a stick so I can wave him around and say,
"This is what happens when you fuck with me."

It's not bad enough I spend some part of every day fighting off some varmint,
vermin or pest. Now I got to read stories about cockroaches creeping and
crawling all over some sweet young thing like Jodie.

Not long ago I shot a bat on the ceiling of my living room and the bullet went
right through the roof. When I went up on the roof to patch the hole, I got
stung by bees. I said words I didn't know I knew. My patience with pests
including men is wearing very thin, especially with Arthur. Just listen to
this!

"The roaches clambered over her naked body, eating her sweat. They explored
every inch of her, some of them discovering her pussy and enjoying the flavours
they found there."

This story about Jodie gave me the shivers and the squirmies and I would have
never even have read it if Arthur hadn't begun sending me E-mails.

Guess who is coming to dinner. Arthur sounded so nice in his E-mails that I
thought I might treat him to dinner.

"Ever try a barbecued rat sandwich Arthur?" I chuckled to myself.

I got the idea of culinary delights from one of my teen angel experiences. My
first real boyfriend was like 16 and I was 15. He had a car and when he picked
me up he would never come to the door. Just beep the horn in the driveway.
Sounded like those frigging crickets now that I think about it.

The only place this dude ever took me was on a ride down some deserted road
where he would feel my tits and whine until I jerked him off. When he dropped
me off at home he would order me to go make him a sandwich.

"What, am I your waitress and your slave?" I spat at him as I got out of his
car on our final date. I simply had enough of this crap but I did make him one
last sandwich. With Alpo. You should have seen the look on his face as he
chewed up that first bite. It was worth the smack he gave me that ended our
relationship.

He never would have known what it was exactly but he asked, "What the hell is
this?" I could have said a new variety of Spam but I burst out laughing and
told him, "You are what you eat, dog breath. That's dog food. You want a Milk-
Bone for desert?" I just couldn't resist the urge to tell.

Well, it was deja vu with the barbecued rat sandwich. I kept him (I
specifically ordered a male rat) frozen until the annual company picnic. He
ended up on the plate of one who I particularly despised because of his
despicable treatment of women. A picture is worth a thousand words and so was
the look on his face when he tasted that ratburger. I can't believe he ate the
whole thing!

Nobody ever knew who did it but I made sure he knew what he ate. I sent him an
anonymous note that said, "You are what you eat. That was a rat's ass sandwich
you ate at the picnic."

Where did I get that rat you might ask. Well, I suppose I could have caught it
myself. I did catch one in a live trap once. That rat became sport and dinner
for my dog. I'll spare you the details but it was quite amusing.

On the other hand, maybe I will tell you. "Hmmm, a man in a cage, and don't the
possibilities just sound too entertaining?" I asked my dog Lilith as I
remembered how she tortured that big fat rat.

I trapped Mr. Rat in a live Have-A-Heart cage trap. Mr. Rat was huge and
jumping around like crazy trying to get out. "Have a heart, who me?" I asked
Lilith.

Lilith is a killer dog. She scares everyone. It's a nightmare taking her to the
vet or anywhere else. She reminds one of a wolf but for her spotted coloring.

She tossed that cage up in the air over and over, biting and pawing through the
bars. I think Mr. Rat croaked from shock more than anything else. "Woof, woof!"
she barked which I translated as "Yum, yum!" as I opened the trap and dumped
the motionless Mr. Rat in her dish.

I purchase my delicacies via mail from a company in the UK. They have
absolutely the best quality in merchandise. The rats come frozen and you can
choose from four different sizes and several different varieties.

You can purchase all sorts of live beetles, locusts and other bugs. Obviously I
didn't need any more bleeping crickets. This company can obtain for you any
sort of bug your little heart might desire.

Since this Arthur dude liked bugs so much I decided to give him a taste of his
own medicine. I thought I might introduce Arthur to the emerald green blister
beetle. You know, the Lytta Vesicatoria, more commonly known as the Spanish
Fly.

Those familiar with the legend of the Marquis de Sade know he utilized a
concoction of these pulverized beetles to entice young ladies to participate in
his orgies. Unfortunately he occasionally used a little too much and poisoned
his feminine friends.

Two thousand years ago the Roman whore, Livia, who was married to both Nero and
Augustus, used a little of the stuff to flavor the food. No wonder the entire
imperial family engaged in many sexual indiscretions and perversions she later
used against them.

Cantharidin is the poisonous substance in these pulverized beetles. Normally
two grams will certainly result in a fatality within a few hours. Not to get
medically technical, but prior to death the preliminary symptom is priapism.
You know, a hard-on that won't go away no matter what.

The Federal Express dude brought the beetles and I did some pulverizing. I
played a round of golf with them in my backyard and gave them names before I
put them on the tee. You definitely have to spray them though, just enough so
they don't jump around when you are attempting to launch one. "Fore!" I lost a
few of them but I figured I had plenty for snuffing purposes.

Now with respect to Arthur's last meal, I planned the menu for days. Boiled
testicles would be the entree.

I had acquired these from Reverend Jim. How exactly is a story for another day.
But I will tell you that Jim now goes by Kim. I left just enough of his penis
so the SRS (Sexual Reassignment Surgery) could be completed by the doctors.

That pervert Reverend Jim had threatened to molest my five year old niece. I
won't mention exactly what he said, because I simply can not repeat his words
without freaking, but after elaborating on the sick things he was going to do
to my niece, he ended his E-mailed threat with, "You wouldn't get mad at me
would you?"

Mad? I don't get mad, I just get even. This was righteous indignation.

Now that I had the menu prepared, I had to extend the invitation to Arthur. I
posted this "personal" in a message board that I knew Arthur frequented.

"Dominatrix with bug fetish wantonly desires Bugmeister. Cockroaches, locusts
and crickets are intensely sensuous crawling all over my body. I desperately
crave to be eaten alive by insect like creatures, particularly men who have
some King Arthur fantasy. Yours for buggering, Morgan le Fay."

I knew that Morgan le Fay thing would get Arthur's attention. She, of course,
was the shape shifting antithesis of Guinevere.

Morgan, the daughter of Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall, was King Arthur's enemy
in life and protector in afterlife (our Arthur's soon to be state). She was an
enchantress and a goddess.

The next problem was I had to get where Arthur was, or in the vicinity. Way
over yonder he was. Across the Atlantic.

Lucky for me I have many frequent flier miles and pilot pals who occasionally
let me fly for free. I once flew a 747. Well, actually, I was sitting on the
pilot's lap and he had one hand on the controls, I had one hand on the controls
and our other hands were on the "real" controls. And you never wondered why
there are so many crash landings?

I don't know how many times I have heard, "I'm not putting the landing gear
down until you make me cum." How in the hell are you supposed to fly an
aircraft when you have your head in the captain's lap?

I decided to snuff Arthur in Cornwall.

Cornwall is awesome, one of my favorite places. I got there many hours earlier
than Arthur was scheduled to arrive because I needed time to make my devious
preparations.

The hotel was a mansion built right on the sea for a certain count hundreds of
years ago. It is quite unique and has an incredible atmosphere.

After checking in, separate rooms for Arthur and I in case you wondered, the
first person I went to see was the chef. I had a special dinner I wanted him to
prepare for my guest and I had some of my own ingredients that needed to be
incorporated into "the last supper." Negotiations with the chef, Charles, went
well. I didn't think a blowjob was too much to ask for what I had in mind.

Next I checked out my ride which my buddies delivered to the hotel. I had met
Eddie and David before at rallies. They were members of the Harley Davidson
Riders Club of Great Britain, a national club with chapters in 28 different
regions, including Cornwall.

They pulled up to the hotel with a bike in the back. David got out and said,
"Sonny says you owe him big time for this bike. He says you best meet him at
the next rally in Oxfordshire." Sonny was one of the officers of the club and
my really good friend.

As they got the bike off the back of the truck I almost wet my panties. It was
the new Softail model, the Deuce FXSTD. It had a chopped rear fender, wide
tires and a stretched tank and dash that really gave it a futuristic look. I
hadn't even noticed any of these new models on the road yet.

"You tell Sonny I love him and I'll see him soon" I called after the guys as
they got back in the truck.

I went back up to my room and put on my riding clothes. I was anxious to take
that Deuce for a rip and a roar.

I left the cage in the suitcase and put it in the closet. The cage was made by
a metalworker friend of mine out of two foot pieces of tubular steel that
connected with locking clamps. When put together it was about six foot high and
three foot on all sides.

With time to kill before the real kill, I headed for Fistral Beach and surfed
for several hours. I was surprised there was so much topless sunbathing because
this seemed like a rather conservative community. It didn't make much
difference to me but apparently it did to others. Three dudes who were also
surfing started jesting with me about being a prude because I had my top on.
"What's the big deal?" I asked as I unsnapped it and kept right on surfing.

They kept talking at me and asked if I wanted to accompany them to The Old
Albion pub down the road. Fellow Americans who were attending Oxford and on a
long weekend holiday they were. I followed their car on the bike.

After imbibing considerable liquid refreshments at the pub, I was getting real
horny. I invited the cutest dude, Justin, back to my hotel room. He got on
behind me on the Harley and I took off post haste for the hotel.

When we got there, much to my delight, Justin attacked me, as in almost rape.
He was in the same frenzied sexually disorientated state I was. Sometimes I
like to make love. Sometimes I like to just plain fuck. Quick and rough.

Justin had me up in the air pressed against the wall, my legs wrapped around
him. Justin was just in, as in just in and fucking me silly.

I like young eager dudes for the quick and rough stuff. I mean, what else do
they know? I like older dudes for making love because I like some intelligent
conversation on occasion. Multiple orgasms do require a little bit of witty
chatter, not mindless drivel, while you like catch your breath in between
ecstasies.

While Justin is running his jackhammer, he asks "Am I hurting you?" and just as
I attempt to mumble some sort of response guess who walks in on us. "Hello,
Arthur," I stuttered. It's difficult to speak even in a coherent short sentence
when some young stud is pounding away inside you.

Arthur just stood there watching wide-eyed with his mouth open. Him, the dude
who writes those disgusting stories, appeared shocked at my behavior.

Finally, when he turned around and walked out, I called after him, "Meet you in
the lobby in an hour Arthur."

He was there on time. I was there five minutes early and left my extra key at
the desk for my new friend Guinevere.

"Hello, Morgan my dear" Arthur said and gave me a peck on the cheek. I thought,
"You'll be wanting to kiss more than my cheek real soon dude." I decided to
take him on a ride on the Harley before dinner. He didn't look bulimic but I
sure as hell was going to make him throw up. I figured I'd refill his tank with
some real good stuff real soon. I'm no doctor but I was certain the beetle
juice would work quicker on an empty stomach. I couldn't tell whatever it was
Arthur had for lunch. It just looked like vomit to me.

Arthur definitely did not take well to my wheelies and leaning on the curves.
He was holding me real tight and not even in a sensual way. Like he was just
holding on for dear life. "Those aren't life preservers," I yelled over my
shoulder as he kept squeezing my boobs in a death grip.

When I heard him gagging I pulled over, but not quick enough. I knew I should
have stolen some of those bags off the airplane. He started before I could stop
and he got some on my shirt. "Shit" I muttered, "you can't even barf right."

Well, I simply had to change now. I don't mind cum on my face that much, but
barf on my shirt? As if!!!

We rode back to the hotel, slowly, and both went up to our separate rooms to
change for dinner, and agreed to meet in thirty minutes back in the lobby.

I guess I'm the exception to most women because I can get ready to go anywhere
in ten minutes. First, I took the suitcase out of the closet and put the cage
together. That took fifteen minutes. Then I put on my strapless very short red
cocktail dress. Black spiked heels to match my long black hair. Traps them in
my web every time so I call it my "Black Widow" evening attire.

Of course I got the little bottle with the beetle juice and put it in my purse.
Guinevere had been in the room but I had no idea where she went.

When I met Arthur in the lobby, we decided to have a drink in the bar before
dinner. Arthur ordered a scotch and something, I never heard of it before, but
it was rather cloudy looking. "Perfect" I said to only myself. My drink was a
Bloody Mary naturally.

We sat at a little table in the bar. "Arthur, my left foot is itching like
crazy, would you scratch it for me, please?" I whined. He hit his head on the
table in his eagerness to get under there and play with my tootsies.

Oh my! He was turning me on. A nice soft tickling touch he had. I took my time
doctoring his drink with the Spanish Fly.

"What are you doing under there Arthur?" I finally asked when people began to
stare. I suspected he was looking up my dress and I regretted I chose not to
wear panties. But my foot really did itch, and that ain't all that was starting
to itch like crazy.

When he finally came up for air I said "Hurry up and drink your drink. I'm
famished!"

We went into the dining room and were seated quickly.

"Please let me order for both of us" I begged. I leaned forward, pulling on the
waist of my dress to display a little more cleavage. As Arthur leaned forward
and gazed down the front of my dress, it was obvious to me he was about to
agree with anything I had to say.

The Jewish waiter and I had practiced this routine. I ordered Shepherd's Pie
for both Arthur and I. Irish potatoes and Hebrew meatballs. And salad. His was
sprinkled with the powdered version of the pulverized beetles.

Well, you know what Arthur's meatballs were. The Reverend Jim's boiled
testicles. And I made Chef Charles promise to boil them in milk. The idea for
the boiled testicles came from the 'Kama Sutra' where it states eating a goat's
testicle boiled in milk increases sexual vigor.

Arthur reacted to his first bite of the meatballs just as I imagined in my
fondest fantasy. His first words once he swallowed several times were "These
are exquisitely tasty. My compliments to the chef." I could feel juice
squirting right out of my cunt when he said that.

Dinner was finished and we were just passing time, Arthur trying to think of
something innovative to say to get him laid, and me waiting for the Spanish Fly
to kick in. He put his hand under the table on my knee and slowly moved up my
thigh.

"OK, Arthur, let's dance," I suggested to put him off for awhile. They had a
small band playing some good tunes.

First slow dance, I started to feel his erection. Soon it was like, well, it
was really showing and he had this anguished look on his face. He was very
embarrassed and he said, "I'm sorry, Morgan. This never happened to me before,
at least not in public like this."

"Not to worry" I replied. "I usually have this effect on men. Must be my
personality."

We both agreed we better head back up to our rooms.

Outside the doors to our rooms I said "Goodnight Arthur" as I stared down at
the protrusion in his pants and kissed him on the cheek.

"What? Aren't you coming in? Please Morgan?" he whined. I shook my head no and
he started sobbing.

"OK, Arthur, I tell you what. You beg like a dog and you can come over to my
room. Get down on all fours and let's hear it."

"Arf arf" be barked and sat up like a good doggy.

"Is this what doggy wants?" I asked seductively as I lifted up my dress. "You
already noticed I wasn't wearing panties, didn't you bad doggy?"

Arthur the dog waddled on over close to me on all fours. His nose was about an
inch from my pussy and he was about to stick out his tongue when I pulled away.

No, not yet good doggy. Come to my room in fifteen minutes. You'll get what you
deserve."

Guinevere was waiting in my room. She was sitting on the bed, naked and crying.

When she saw me she jumped up and hugged me. "Oh, thank you so much for helping
me!" she cried as she slobbered all over me.

Between sobs she told me her sexual experiences were rather boring. "Missionary
position mostly. I get to lay there and play dead. I'm rather naive when it
comes to sex."

"Not to worry girl!" I reassured her. "I brought my 'Kama Sutra' instruction
manual with illustrations. I'll read this stuff to you and you do whatever I
say to Arthur."

Just then Arthur knocks at the door and I step out in the hallway. "Here,
Arthur, you have to put this blindfold on." He still had the protrusion in his
pants and he was not about to argue now.

As soon as he entered the room, I pushed him in the cage and locked it. "Take
your clothes off Arthur and pass them through the bars" I demanded in my most
menacing voice.

Meanwhile Guinevere is playing with herself and staring in shock at Arthur's
rigid penis sticking through the bars of the cage. "It never looked that big
before!" she whispered in my ear.

"You ain't seen nothing yet honey! Here, rub some of this on it." I gave her
the "real" Miracle Grow to play rub-a-dub-dub with.

I found this miracle cure for a little dick in what is probably the greatest
literary work of erotica ever published, 'The Perfumed Garden of Sheik
Nefzaoui.' In it you will find the best method for increasing the size of the
penis. Prepare a powder of pepper, lavender, galanga and musk. Mix it with
honey and preserved ginger and just rub it on. To quote from the book, "The
member will then grow large and brawny, and afford a marvelous feeling of
voluptuousness."

The bag of cockroaches and whatever else it was Arthur brought with him got
flushed in the commode. "We are using my bugs tonight you maggot" I giggled in
the bathroom.

Guinevere was rubbing the "ointment" I made on Arthur's cock and he was moaning
deliriously. "It's getting even bigger!" she exclaimed incredulously.

Obviously Arthur now realized there was another woman in the room. "Arthur,
meet your Guinevere" I announced and I couldn't help snickering.

I began reading the 'Kama Sutra.' Opening the book in the middle, I began with
the Vadavaka or Mare's Trick. "Like a mare cruelly gripping a stallion, you
trap and milk your lover's penis with your vagina."

I read one paragraph. That's all the further I got. Nobody was paying any
attention to me.

Guinevere jumped up and pressed her ass up against the bars of the cage. I
mean, she was thumping it with her butt. It took Arthur about two seconds to
realize what was happening and he stuck it right in her from behind. He's
pounding away at her from inside the cage and she's pounding away right back at
him from outside the cage. What a racket!

I wondered how the cold steel bars felt on Guinevere's hot flesh. "Well, why
not find out?" I asked myself. I pulled up my dress and found out. Yeow! I was
on fire myself and I couldn't take much more of watching this.

It didn't take Guinevere long, she was like a bitch in heat. They weren't
making enough noise? She screamed when she came and Arthur followed soon
behind. She pulled away from him just as he got off and he shot streams of cum
all over her ass.

She laid motionless on the rug for a few minutes and then got to her knees.
Arthur's cock was still erect and still sticking through the bars of the cage.
All the documentation I read about Spanish Fly was correct. You never got rid
of the hard-on.

Guinevere began sucking Arthur's cock through the bars. He was just going wild,
kind of pulsating all over. He kind of reminded me of an Elvis impersonator.

Arthur unfortunately made the mistake of saying, "My wife never got all of me
in her mouth like that!"

Guinevere bit him very hard and he screamed. She relaxed her grip and pulled
him out and he came all over her face. She stood up and pressed her body and
face up against the cage. Arthur kissed her passionately and licked his own cum
off her face. Arthur was still hard and Guinevere put her feet through the
second rung of bars and her arms through the fourth rung with her hands around
Arthur's neck. He entered her again.

No more of this for me. I had to get out of there before I made this a
threesome.

I went back down to the restaurant's lounge where the band had moved and
continued playing.

The singer, a dude named Louie, had his eyes riveted on me while Arthur and I
had been dancing. I walked right up to him and asked, "Do you take requests?"

"I'd do anything for you, honey" he replied with a wink.

"Fuck me. Play fuck me would you please?"

At first he looked astounded but then a huge grin came over his face and he
looked up in the air with that "Thank you Lord" look.

Louie immediately announced the band was taking a break. We walked outside and
quickly found a spot on the nearby beach. I slipped my dress off and stood
before him naked in the moonlight.

"No foreplay. I'm not in the mood. Just play fuck me" I demanded demurely.

He quickly shed his clothes and pushed me down gently in the sand. Louie knew
the tune I requested very well indeed and he played it over and over.

Louie said he had to go back and sing and quipped "I suppose you sing, Morgan,
you seem to do everything else."

"Do dogs bark?" I snapped. "The next set is country and western, right? In
Cornwall? You might want to let me help you. I'm a cowgirl and you already know
I ride bareback."

I gave Louie a quick lesson on Dwight Yoakam's "Buenas Noches From a Lonely
Room (She Wore Red Dresses).

Louie loved it and he let me tell the band how to play it.

I helped Louie start off the song. "She wore red dresses with her black shining
hair."

"She had my baby and caused me to care" he sang. I whispered in his ear, "I
sure hope not, I take pills."

"Then coldly she left me to suffer and cry" he warbled. "The only thing you are
crying about, Louie, is that you didn't get to stick it up my ass yet" I
whispered and he laughed.

"She wore red dresses and told such sweet lies" and on that note I did the "Who
me?" pantomime.

The band took two more breaks that evening and each time we made a return trip
to our spot on the beach. When the music died I parted company with "Louie, I
have to get back to the room before my husband Arthur misses me. He fell asleep
but he might wake up."

I went back up to my room and peeked in. Guinevere and Arthur were still going
at it. Now she had him out of the cage, spread-eagled and cuffed to the bed by
his wrists and ankles. His cock was still rigid and she was like, well, jumping
on it. She turned and looked at me and that look said it all. A predator. The
tiger lady.

I picked up Arthur's pants off the floor, took the key to his room out of the
pocket and went over there and crashed.

Eight hours later I woke up and went back over to my room. Damn! They were
still going at it! I simply could not understand why Arthur was not in a state
of rigor mortis. I mean, his cock was, but that was all.

I pulled Guinevere off him and yelled at her, "We got to get out of here!" She
was like a zombie and I had to practically dress her.

We left Arthur spread-eagled and cuffed to the bed. If he was still alive, he
would have a lot of explaining to do soon when the maid came to clean the room
and alerted the hotel security to what she found.

Did Arthur know the "Buenas Noches From a Lonely Room (She Wore Red Dresses)
tune I wondered and laughed out loud.

Later I learned Guinevere had been into my bottle of beetle juice. She had
taken much of it out of the bottle and replaced it with powdered sugar. She had
taken some herself and was saving the rest for later. What Arthur had taken was
about one tenth of what I had intended.

You see, Guinevere is Arthur's wife and he didn't even realize it. I wonder if
she will tell him.

Gotta go. The Federal Express dude is knocking at my door with a package in his
hand. Must be more delights I ordered for my next project. I wonder if Arthur
learned his lesson. Will I be reading any more cockroach stories?

Suzanne (suzanned@erie.net)

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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