Thrusting : Prelude

Where do I start?

At the beginning I suppose.

But where did my life as Labia Lefeure actually begin?

She didn’t experience the growing up poor in the East End of London. It wasn’t her who had to fend for herself due to the absence of parents.

Labia didn’t throw those punches at school because she couldn’t take the teasing of her tattered uniform anymore .

It wasn’t Labia’s lips that David kissed during that careless fumble down the alleyway one summer’s evening.

Those formative years belonged to someone else….another me. A nobody called Molly Jones.

Labia’s story, the one I am telling, begun on 12th February 1967 .

That was the day that she was born. Neatly coinciding with the death of the previous me and with it the life I could have led.

Labia’s birth did not take place in a hospital but instead it was in a little nightclub hidden away in the grimy streets of the East End.

There were no midwives encouraging the soon to be Mother to push but instead a crowd of jeering men shouting futile words of encouragement that I might take my top off.

Proud Fathers were replaced by absentee husbands, taking a detour from a busy day at work to get a quick release before returning to their dutiful wives.

Labia didn’t grow up surrounded by a multitude of siblings, she had a different family. Perhaps there is some similarity here, we don’t get to choose our family and Labia certainly didn’t get to choose hers. Someone else did and that person would prove to be far worse than any overbearing Father.

He put together Precious Comfort Love Thrust, created a family so dysfunctional that what we experienced in four years was enough to fill a lifetime. Fights, love, betrayal, tragedy and somewhere within all that…music. But as you will read music was very much secondary to everything that Precious Comfort Love Thrust was about.

And it all began on that fateful evening in February when Labia was born…..

When I was born.

That night if I had just said no I’d still be simple Molly Jones. Maybe I would have made it as a singer, perhaps I would have settled for the quite life as a secretary, got married, had kids and led a perfect life living in a three bedroom semi in Essex. By now I would have grandchildren at my knee, wistfully seeing out my remaining years playing bingo and complaining about the weather.

Instead I said ‘Yes’ and the life I should have experienced evaporated instantly. No turning back.

Why I agreed to his request is something I have often thought about. Perhaps it was the exuberance of youth. Maybe even by the age of 20 I had tired of Molly Jones; when he asked me the question I was desperately looking for a way out of my life.

He approached me with the opportunity to be someone different. To swap one life for another. He just neglected to tell me what the cost of this new life would be.

For years I’ve tried to forget I was even a part of Precious Comfort Love Thrust but try as I might I just kept getting dragged back into it.

Even news of his death brought me no comfort. I thought it might bring me a sense of freedom but instead it just reminded me of the hold he always had over me.

All because of that one night in February.

Then there was Stef…My poor sweet Stef. She didn’t deserve to die alone in that place, no-one knowing what she truly achieved, what she meant to the band….to the country for that matter.

I know I am on the same path as Stef; to die alone taking all those secrets to my grave. My life hidden away in some secret vault never to be revealed.

Yet she had that suitcase. A collection of vague memories that to the casual observer would seem nothing more than unwanted memorabilia of a band long forgotten. Why she kept that stuff is a mystery to me.

I was surprised to be alerted to a reference to Precious Comfort Love Thrust online. Even more surprised that the curator of our curious history was some blonde girl who thought Unicorned Squirrels would make a good story.

I could have sat back and just watch her create an acceptable version of Precious Comfort Love Thrust; one that even I would find pleasant; a place in history we did not deserve. Although the way she works to schedule I’d have been lucky to still be alive before she got to our first tour.

But even if allowed Selina j to reveal Precious Comfort Love Thrust to the world it would be a lie. The entire life of Labia Lefeure is a lie. If this is to be my swan song surely it should end on the truth? My one final ‘Fuck You’ to him and to truly honour those forgotten.

Dick, Vanda, Kaku, Regis and of course, Stef.

So, I write this story.

The true story of Precious Comfort Love Thrust.

The true story of Labia Lefeure.

The true story of me.

And it all begins on the one night in February.

The Randomness Of Selina : Year 2 Day 7 : Fell8 Revisted

Having just celebrated my one year on Twitter followed by the first anniversary of this website another milestone is fast approaching – The first anniversary of when I started writing Fell8.

Fell8 was my first outright piece of fiction I wrote.

If truth be told I should have finished it by now. If I had my way I’d have finished about four stories by now but there we go.

Fell8 is a quite a special story to me. Not only is it a fun tale to write but it reminds me of some hilarious threads I was involved in during my early days on Twitter.

The idea for this story spawned from two discussions with the awesome Wednesday Noir, the lovely Daniele Light and the super Clara Zaynn.

The first was how’d we all fair in an old school horror movie and the second related to surviving a zombie apocalypse.

My answer to both was the same – I’d be having sex. At some point during the conversation and it may have been me who said it, I was sucking off zombies to survive the apocalypse.

And so the idea of Fell8 was born. Yet it wasn’t to be erotica. Indeed Fell8 (which in case you didn’t know is a play on the word fellate) was to signal my move away from erotica that I had concentrated on with the Of Selina series.

It was not necessarily a conscious decision but having decided that my zombies could only be killed by a blowjob it didn’t seem to work to have an explicit details.

Whilst the story is littered with references to penis I felt it worked simply as a bizarre way to kill someone.

Indeed, whilst there is humour in Fell8 a lot of that comes from the situation of how they have to kill the zombies.

Replace this unique method with the more traditional sword or gun and it’s just a straightforward zombie apocalypse story. But by making the main characters all female and having the only way to kill the advancing horde is by performing a sex act, you’d be surprised how many storylines open up.

I also wanted it to be very character driven and the eight main characters are all loosely based/inspired by some of my closest chums on Twitter.

The structure of each chapter intentionally plays out as if it were an episode of a TV series.

It was fun plotting each ‘episode’ especially as more than once I would say to myself ‘what creative way can I have them give a blowjob?!’

Violent. Ludicrous and completely wrong, it has been the funnest thing to write.

Therefore I could not simply leave it incomplete. Of all my stories I have started but failed to finish Fell8 would hurt the most.

Fell8 also marked my first foray into Wattpad, which equally hasn’t gone to plan.

Indeed you would only find the opening of Fell8 on this website and so I’ve got an idea.

For the benefit of all those nervous about hopping over to Wattpad I’m going to bring the story so far over to here.

Then maybe we will see about completing the damn thing.

Good plan?

The Apocalypse of Selina 

This is the original blog preview of Fell8 – You can read all the parts so far on Wattpad

No blog about my life this week. Sorry to leave you all in the darkness of my mind but I hope to continue the story real soon.
There have been a couple of reasons why it’s not possible to introduce you to the mysterious Keith.

Firstly, despite the fact I keep forgetting I do lead a normal life with a normal job. Quite unreasonably they expected me to actually do the tasks they pay me for.

Secondly I have been working on my first bit of fiction. Well that’s not strictly true, I have a whole book of ideas and half written stories.

This particular story was born out of various crazy twitter conversations I have with some brilliant erotica writers.  Mundane chats turn smutty and by the end of the thread I don’t think anyone remembers what we were actually talking about.

So that’s how Fell8 was born. A crazy idea of an apocalyptic world where eight women take a rather curious approach to stopping the brain dead monsters who roam the desolate streets.

It’s very much a work in progress and will be available on Wattpad.  The story fits in with my style of writing – that pulp fiction / Grindhouse sort of vibe.

Anyway as I didn’t want to leave you with no blog this week. A sneak preview of Fell8 — The Part Before The Start

                          Lorna

Lorna stared out of the window and watched the rain drops collect on the windscreen. She liked how an individual drop would land on the glass and slowly slide downwards, gathering pace whilst collecting others on its journey.

The car radio was on but she was barely paying attention, this particular station had stopped playing any songs ages ago instead opting to have overly excitable reports about the Premiere of a new movie that was happening in London later.

She used her sleeve to wipe the condensation from the window and through the rain soaked screen she could just make out a couple holding hands, pausing briefly to share a kiss.

Lorna allowed herself to daydream, squinting her eyes through the blur so she could just make out the romantic couple.  The female had blonde hair and was in her late twenties just like Lorna . It was clear from the way the male companion held her that they were madly in love.

Lorna sighed. Maybe one day she would find someone special, that person who adored her for ever more. She was pretty enough but as she watched the male protectively shield his lover from the rain she knew deep down that she would never get to experience such devotion.

She had made too many questionable decisions to ever be worthy of such a life. Lorna closed her eyes tight, turning her head away from the amorous couple.

When she opened them again she was presented with his gormless, smiley face. The momentary daydream of the life not lived had made her almost forget about him.

She followed his eyes down towards his lap where he eagerly stroked his penis. Lorna allowed herself one last look back at the couple before lowering herself towards his lap.

Hoshi

Hoshi swore if one more guy dare touched her arse she would do some damage.

Can’t a tall, attractive Japanese female in her thirties wear a skin tight outfit that accentuates every curve without having guys pawing all over her? The answer should be yes but the reality was very different.

She was an experienced cosplayer and knew what to expect. Perhaps she was just jet lagged from her flight over to London and therefore a little over sensitive.

Stop moaning Hoshi and just enjoy yourself.

Hoshi concluded the amount of attention she was receiving was due to her choice of outfit.  She had gone all out and designed a very tight fitting version of a uniform worn by a character in an upcoming Sci-fi movie. Skin tight royal blue latex with a section cut out at the front to show off her ample cleavage.

The movie was only getting it’s Premiere tonight yet already the hype was unreal, destined to break every box office record.  It had been Hoshi’s intention to go straight from the convention to where the Premiere was being held, but the crowds… there would be touching.. endless touching.

Hoshi turned to leave the convention and decided instead to just go back to the hotel. As she began to walk she noticed a cute guy had been staring at her. She dropped her purse and slowly bent over to pick it up.

Just one more look then before I go.

Veronica

She ran her slender fingers along the length of her white nylon clad leg. She loved the feel of the bridal lingerie and would be sad to take it off as it would signal the end of her magical day where all eyes had been on her.

Veronica looked in the mirror and adjusted her tiara, she felt just like a princess. She smiled as she looked round the honeymoon suite of the Country Club that had been the venue for her dream day.

She never wanted it to end, wanted to savour every moment.

Everyone, including her gorgeous husband, was down stairs waiting for her to take his hand and glide to the dance floor for this fairytale to continue.

She tidied her long brunette hair and touched up her make-up. Her attention was drawn from the reflection of her pretty face to the man who entered the room; tall, dark and so incredibly handsome.

She could see the unmistakable outline of his impressive manhood as he strode towards her. She smiled. She had meant every word she had said to Richard when they exchanged vows. She would remain loyal, dutiful and be the perfect wife. But he need not know about this stranger in her room.

Her and Richard would have the rest of their lives but she just wanted that little bit more attention. After all, it was her day.

Elena

Elena stood at the sink, her hands deep in a bowl of soapy water. She could sense him behind her.

She knew that as soon as his wife had left to go and host some outside broadcast for a World Premiere that was happening that he would not hesitate to take advantage of being alone with her.

Elena could hear the incessant sound of some children’s television show playing in the other room.

That’s the child entertained now for his.

They would do it in the kitchen. He would have her wherever the mood took him but never in the bedroom. He would be quick, no doubt just slip in from behind and it will be over before she has had a chance to dry the soap from her hands.

She would put up no protest, just submit herself to his horny whim. He would not say a word to her afterwards, clearly racked with guilt. The only thing he ever said was to remind Elena not to tell his wife.

She never would say anything, Elena needed this job. She had been in England for only a few years, arriving from Romania barely out of her teens.

Here she was living in a three million pound house in the poshest part of London, why would she ruin that. Other girls like her had fallen into becoming an Escort to make ends meet. All she had to do was just allow him to use her everyone once in and while.

Her short dark hair stood on end as she felt his breath on the nape of her neck.

Taylor

Taylor stared at her shapely buttocks in the mirror.  Talk about being typecast, a girl from Georgia dressed in low cut tight jean shorts, checked shirt tied up at the waist, all finished off with boots and a hat.

She would certainly stick out in the crowd, the majority of which were in their finest tuxedos and ball gowns.

It had been the idea of the producers that the more minor characters should come to the Premiere dressed in their movie costume. She played the sassy bartender, she wouldn’t have minded so much but it was nearly winter in London and had been raining all day.

Jeezdoes the sun ever shine in this country.

Taylor unbuttoned the top of her shirt so that her plentiful bosoms clearly showed.  She was only in the movie for a brief moment but she did get to say one line;

“Y’all best leave this mess to me” she repeated back to her reflection before smiling, her long blonde hair perfectly framing her dazzling white teeth.

There would be a lot of important people here tonight. Her agent told her this movie was going to be huge, the most successful in history… And she was in it.

Tonight was her opportunity to make it big. No more waiting tables, this was it.

You’re gonna be a star.

She leaned and kissed the mirror leaving a perfect red lip stick mark. Giggling to herself she could hear the sound of heavy breathing coming from one of the cubicles, that unmistakable sound of passion.

Well looks like someone is starting this party early.

Merci

“Quick! Help me” Merci screamed to a stage hand as she struggled to wriggle into a 12 inch strap on.

It was her big finish, one she had performed countless times in her twenty years with her band Merci and the Masturbators.

As the final long deafening chords to their crowd favourite Life is just a dildo played she would emerge on stage stroking her large plastic dong. A big ‘fuck you’ to everything, to everyone.

The crowd would go wild as she, with her blue hair sparkling in the spotlights and her tongue firmly stuck out, bent over and stroked it furiously.

She had noticed the crowd was slightly smaller tonight which was probably on account of the big Premiere happening down the road. Everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the big star, Miss Carmel Ash.

But here in this small hall she was the star. So fuck you Carmel Ash, fuck you music producers who thought her music was too edgy, fuck you organisers who wouldn’t let her drink from the bar for free. Fuck you all.

Angie

Beads of sweat ran down her perfectly smooth ebony face as she raced down the stairs.

Stumbling on the last step, Angie Raines cursed herself for choosing to wear heels. But how was she supposed to know that today would require her to run for her life.  She would have worn more suitable footwear.

It should have been a normal day working in the lab of Harmony Pharmaceuticals. Nothing during her dull commute to work, her normal purchase of a Toffee Latte and the usual fumbling for her security pass ought to have told her that today she would be running for her life. Hell, even the security guard gave her his normal jovial morning greeting.

Should she have realised what was about to happen sooner? Could she have warned everyone so it could all be stopped? These thoughts dominated her mind as she clumsily made her way down the stone steps.

Why had she not said anything? About 27 minutes earlier when she made the discovery it had all been so obvious. The true purpose staring right back at her.  Despite having multiple qualifications and being top in her field of genetics she had been too stupid to see what was happening.

No, it wasn’t stupidity. It was fear. She knew what they were intending but did not say anything. She feared losing her job, her career, to be pilloried by her peers. Being black and female had made it hard enough to advance in this career. She couldn’t risk it all by making wild accusations.  But the proof had been right there!

She let out a screech of pain as her ankle turned over misjudging the final step.  She deserved that for the role she has played in all this.

She ran as fast as she could to her car.  The underground car park was quiet, the only sound was the clip clopping of her heels.  This was soon accompanied by the sound of other footsteps, more heavier ones.

They know.

She tried to increase her pace but every quick step caused flashes of pain to shoot up her leg.  Maybe she should just give up. Let them do whatever they intended. It’s too late anyway.

She stopped turning to look at her pursuers as they gained ground on her quickly.

No. There is always a chance.

Kicking off her heels she made one last desperate stride towards her car.

Wendy

Everything was horrid!

Wendy L’Amour leaned against the wall drinking what must have been her third glass of wine in as many minutes.

This ought to have been her proudest moment. Her novel, the one she spent years tirelessly writing was being brought to life on the big screen.  Millions more people will finally get to experience her epic story; yet the reality was this had become her worst nightmare.

Six years of her life had been poured into this book. Sleepless nights revising and editing to create her opus – The Fell. It was an intergalactic love story about an androgynous alien species  (The Fell) who, although incapable of love, fall for the earthly charms of a human.

It was a beautiful story. Every moment of the book perfectly choreographed to evoke the intended emotional response from the reader. Wendy had been particularly proud of a 25 page love scene – no mean feat considering The Fell did not possess genitalia.

She emptied her glass and let out a groan as she recalled that moment she sold her soul to the Devil.  In this instance, her soul was the rights to her book and The Devil was one Miss Carmel Ash.

She should have just refused. The book was selling well but perhaps giddy with her 4.6 out of 5 rating she had wanted more.

Her relationship with Carmel Ash started pretty badly and very quickly got worse.  Wendy recalled their first meeting where Carmel just sat there, her eyes covered by sunglasses, expressionless.

The bitch never smiles.

It was Carmel’s assistant that did all the talking; he was a weasly looking man who Wendy disliked. No sooner had the ink dried on the contract all the promises made went out the window. She wouldn’t be writing the screenplay, instead some arrogant upstart got that job and he changed everything.

By the time that little shit had finished with it her beautiful story was unrecognisable. Gone was the idea of love transcending everything and instead The Fell has been turned into horny little aliens.

The conflict was no longer internal, metaphors of the struggles with one’s identity and the expectation of society, it was now an actual fucking space war.

Wendy was distracted from her self loathing by a very attractive, leggy blonde in jean hot pants walked past en route to the bathroom.

And what has a fucking cowgirl got anything to do with it!

She would have continued with this internal rebuke but the lights went out. A dazzling light display accompanied by some  enthusiastic drumming signalled the arrival of the woman responsible for Wendy’s rage.

Carmel Ash dressed in a futuristic silver outfit walked up to the podium; her image portrayed on a big screen above her. The crowd cheered her arrival as the fit-inducing light show went into overdrive.

In a painfully stage managed way, she lifted her manicured hands above her head and brought them crashing down on an oversized red button in front of her.

The lights disappeared leaving everyone in darkness, the only illumination were the faint glow of hundreds of smart phones suddenly being thrust up into the air. The drums stopped and there was silence save for a few whoops and cheers amongst the assembled crowd.

Then emblazoned in the night sky of London a countdown appeared.

10

The crowd excitably begun to cheer and completely out of sinc joined in the countdown

9

Wendy looked up at the large numbers which seemed to signal the countdown to confirmation of the dissolution of her soul.

8

Angie screamed as her car failed to start.  Every day for five years it had started perfectly. Only when she is about to be killed by a number of unknown assailants does it decide to play up.

7

Merci stroked her giant strap on while mouthing ‘fuck you’.  This would normally rile them up but tonight they seemed more agitated.

You still got it, girl!

6

Taylor was about to leave the restroom when she heard a moan followed by a loud thud.

“Hey” she called out “You guys okay in there?”

There was no response and concerned she walked towards the cubicle.

5

Elena felt him pressed up against her. He seemed more aroused than he had ever been. His hands reaching round her, gripping her tight. This was going to be rough.

He seemed angry.

4

Veronica’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped as her dark stranger walked towards her.  He was virtually bursting through his trousers.

She was sure that was lust he had in her eyes.

3

Hoshi felt his hands grip her buttocks.

“Hey! Look but don’t touch” she exclaimed.

But the owner of these wandering hands gripped tighter. The momentum caused her to fall to the ground with the mysterious groper on top of her.

2

With her mouth full all Lorna could think was she wished he’d shut up.  His deep breathing and low moans were starting to become an annoyance. She felt like stopping to enquire if he was asthmatic.

She felt his hand on the back of her head as he gripped her hair tight.  Really tight.

1

The crowd were too preoccupied with the countdown to notice what was going on.

Carmel Ash just stood there, her eyes transfixed, a smile appearing on her lips.

The bitch never smiles

0

The world was about to turn to shit.

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