A-Theism, the Great Godkiller

Yusef walked to the podium and shook the man's hand to great applause which he reluctantly accepted. Even the that ridiculous bow-tie knotted at his throat could not chip his certitude.

"I would like to thank you all for your enthusiasm, the last few months have been a real roller coaster," he leaned slightly over the podium. "I've already been the target of no less than ten fatwas from eight different Mullahs—not even Salman Rushdie got that many," the audience laughed at his joke. "But was ten really enough?" he went on to ask rhetorically. "Why not eleven? Or nine? I suppose because ten's a psychologically satisfying number, you know?" They laughed again. The audience was blissfully unaware of the George Carlin bit he stole that part from. "But really once you reach fatwa #2 it's like pressing an already pushed button on an elevator..." he continued with his own comedic touch also to the joy of the serious audience.

He spoke briefly regarding the burdens of philosophy and its linkages to science and evolution. "We're not supposed to discover what's pleasant—we're supposed to discover, however unpleasant, facts; the carnivore cannot look down upon the butcher. And it is in the name of understanding the workings of our very existence without agenda that I accept this prize. I thank the Swedish Academy of Sciences again," he ended amidst standing ovations. Tina likewise vigorously clapped her palms and cheered her colleague on though with more personal satisfaction than those bloated European minds.

"Didn't he look handsome?" she asked Jim. He never minded when she talked about other men with him so long as she did not seek a relationship. In so many words she even told him of her and Yusef's "affair of the mind" some years back but Jim's demeanor did not change towards his wife's good friend.

"Yes, he did," Jim answered and nodded gently, "which brings me to something I've been wanting to tell you," he started ominously and swallowed hard. Curious, Tina turned to face him, unclear what was coming.

* * * * *

"Wait...what?" Yusef shouted into the suite's phone. The long distance and the hysterical woman at the other end rendered most words unintelligible. "I can't understand you, Tina!" he shouted again to overcome the protester's screams entering. It was to no avail. "Wait, what about Jim? He's a 'what'? I'm sorry, I can't understand, there're some protesters outside my window and they won't shut up!" He stuffed his finger into his ear as best he could to drown out the noise but still he could make neither heads nor tails of it. With his ears occupied, he failed to hear the electric click of his unlocking door and the entrance of an uninvited guest. Sensing a presence and feeling the slight draft, he turned his head to behold the first woman to ever make his jaw physically drop.

The blonde, easily six feet (183 cm for the locals) despite leaning back with her shoulder blades against the door, folded her arms behind her back and poked a toned bare leg from the high parting in her cherry red evening dress. Her soft shoulders, complete with a matching clutch made by designers people with means like Yusef had no business to know, were draped by her uniformly blonde locks that overflowed onto her bared chest. They were unable to block the radiance of her diamond earrings and necklace composed of flawlessly white pearls the size of marbles however and lighted half the dimly lit room. Her modest make up was eclipsed by the accentuating and complimenting red lipstick smeared tastefully upon her kissably puffy lips, making them resemble the velvety slit every man she met wanted to acquaint himself with. She seductively raised one modestly plucked eyebrow.

"Uh..." Yusef mumbled into the phone, zoning out Tina's hysterical pleas. "Yeah, let me call you back," he said matter of factly as he slammed the phone onto the receiver. Realizing this was one of the few opportunities in life where a person could act cooly before extraordinary circumstances, he wore the most nonchalant face he could muster and stepped cautiously to the beauty before him. Nearly opening his mouth, this time to ask a question, the phone rang again. His cheeks twitched with a nervous smile, eroding the cool facade. He gestured he would take but a moment and answered the phone.

"Not now, something's suddenly come up," he cut Tina off before she could speak and slammed the phone down again before stepping away. It rang a third time but without apology this time he swiftly knelt down and reached behind the night stand, plucking the cord from the wall. Perhaps not as cooly as he hoped in the beginning, he approached the sexy red dressed figure. He gestured to the door bewilderedly, asking how she passed his security. She produced a small keycard from behind her back and showed it to him. It looked like scores of other keycards he had seen in the course of his travels.

"Dis card can be programmed for any specific lock. All you need is sum-whon at the front desk to do it for you," she replied in a nearly flawless American accent. "The clerk was paid a lot compared to her job money, but it was little more than two nights out with friends for me. You see, because of you, now there is no more camel to pass through a needle's eye..." she mused as she delicately pressed her three inch red heels into the carpet with each stride. Unfamiliar with old Norse mythology, Yusef could not aptly describe her simple elegance in terms befitting a Goddess, but he knew she was likely the physical embodiment of one of them since she placed a spell of immobility upon him. Looking up as she towered over him, she touched her large yet feminine hands to his olive colored skin, scraping them a bit with her long red fingernails. Her mouth lowered, Yusef's eyes closed from her intoxicating scent, and his body shivered as her soft lips pressed against his and their tongues joined in a frenzied dance.

Taking command, she pulled out his already undone bow-tie with a loud scraping sound as the synthetic material rubbed together. She threw it to the floor. Next came his jacket, then his shirt, then finally his pants which dropped at his still covered feet like some hapless "victim" in bad pornography. The woman touched her palms to his toned chest and smirked at the man before her.

This man, the very man she embraced, had single handedly dispelled any doubt of God's existence by proving he did not; it seemed it was easier to destroy God than it was to create proof he existed at all. She kissed the philosopher of the millennium and accepted his firm reach behind her back as he tried to unzip her elegant dress but stopped him. Releasing himself from her embrace, he backed away a few steps to reabsorb God's craftsmanship. Even with B sized breasts, this pale beauty fit the impossible (or so he thought) hourglass ideal and perfection of form. So enamored, he nearly tripped over his bunched up pants.

She giggled girlishly for a woman of 31—though Yusef did not know her age...or her name for that matter. She knelt down and leaned forward to delicately work her fingers in his shoes knots. Her dainty dress rode up into her heart shaped ass just beyond her impossibly cinched waist, presenting her hourglass form to the still hopefully locked door. After removing his shoes, she reached for his boxers and pulled them down to the pants to reveal a throbbing erection. Looking up into his eyes, she silently asked for permission to touch the penis.

"You're not a protester, are you?" Yusef asked his first and only question. He knew how futile the question was. And at this point, even if she said yes, he doubted he possessed the willpower to let her stop. In the great complexities of nature, particularly in insects like the praying mantis and black widow, one found males sacrificing themselves for the sake of sex. If she said "yes," would he succumb to the red hourglass spider's charms? Absolutely.

"No, I am your bigger fan," she looked up adoringly, a different kind of consumption in mind. "You've liberated us all and I just had to meet you," she continued, wrapping her blood red talons around his throbbing member and delicately squeezed already to find a bit of anticipatory pre-cum. Unlike any other woman before her, Yusef desperately needed to be inside this one. He softly grunted as her foreign hands twisted a massage like one would while swinging a baseball bat.

It had been a long time since anyone else had touched his dick. Occasionally, when finals came and he felt a bit frisky, he would mixed it up and use his left hand instead but this was the limit of variety. His celibacy, though not 100% voluntary, was more a product of an uncaring attitude for sex. Sure there were days he masturbated so much he gave his balls the equivalent of dry heaves. When he had sex it was nice. When he did not, it was just as well. But as his tan glans passed those puffy red lips and entered her warm mouth, he wondered, just like after every other break of indifferent celibacy before this one, how he ever lived without it.

"Awwww..." he whimpered as she swiftly engulfed his whole member, gently dragging her bottom teeth against the remnant of un-hardened flesh. This was replaced by her sloppy tongue whose tip caressed it and whose back twitched violently against his head's tight ridges as she slurped his newly wet manhood.

"Mmmmmm..." she moaned as she looked up into his eyes, further vibrating his sensitive flesh and turning his legs into half cooked pasta. Taking it out, she momentarily flashed her eyes open only to close them tight as her swollen lips sucked and her tongue licked along the side of his shaft while her hands gently tugged and kneaded his balls, a remarkable feat considering the claws at their tips. Lipstick technology must have significantly advanced since Yusef was last blown in this manner because not a fleck of her red lipstick remained on his hot dick, saving him the morning trouble of washing or peeling it off. Either that or it was a Swedish thing.

Negative population growth is pretty tough to maintain. The irony of industrial nations—if one could call them that any longer—was that with all the comforts of commodity living, people had fewer children if any at all. And if all Swedish women were as good as this woman, Yusef could figure out why men came into their mouths before they even had a chance to get inside their pussies. Feeling flushed and the familiar tension in his manipulated testicles, he ran his fingers through her hair and cringed, easing his cock out.

"I'm cumming soon," he stammered a warning. His cooled cock returned to its warm home. Her mouth sucked harder with each successive head bob and her hands tweaked his sack and squeezed his rod. Starting in his balls, his muscles twitched in ecstasy as they propelled his sweet cum from inside his body to hers. It blasted against the back of her throat, causing a slight gag, but as she slowly withdrew the lip lock of his softening cock, he knew the cum never once touched the air outside of her sealed humid mouth. Her still coated lips dragged up his cock, reconnecting from the corners of her mouth on to the center until it was completely out. She swallowed his load with gusto, contentedly making noises one might expect from a woman enjoying a savory meal.

"Du are so in-fluent-shul and important and I have a piece of your inside me," she said with a near level of awe. "I want the whole thing now, I must 'av it," she slowly stood and crawled upon the bed, he feet dangling helplessly from her limp ankles. She clutched her dress, throwing the frictionless cloth in a collecting pile of softness by her side, and presented her lusciously bare pussy folds beneath the puckered asshole.

"Magnificent." Her ass cheeks protruded proudly like great twin mountains. Between them was the temperate valley that if followed correctly would lead to Shangra La and everlasting satisfaction. Also, if he was not careful, he could be granted immortality by giving Sweden another child conceived out of wedlock. Considering the esteem she already proclaimed, he wondered if, in her eyes, there was no greater honor than carrying his child. The fear dispelled when he told himself he would pull out before that could start. From behind, he had the control to pull out and would not be at her mercy like in cowgirl or even missionary styles.

As he stepped to her and spread her thick pussy lips apart with his thumbs, he briefly considered the thought of women—dozens or hundreds of them—feeling themselves privileged in carrying an army of his sons and daughters. He stuck out his tongue and licked her pussy's length, forcing a pleased shiver. No, he could not spawn all those children and live with himself; he could not possibly afford the child support payments even with the ludicrously large sums every major publisher promised him for rights to his book. As he became more serious about the prospect, the money was certain to increase.

He crawled onto bed and guided her frame lengthwise to the bed. Hovering above her warm cheeks, he looked at the beauty's closed eyes as her head turned to the side, her chest lying flat upon the bed. He grasped her cushions and squeezed, eliciting a groan of pain but anticipatory pleasure. He lowered his body and craned his neck to bury his face in her welcoming sex Though he started slowly at first, his forcefulness and her pleasure increased as his cock slowly hardened once again in the certain hope it would penetrate her velvety pussy and cum harmlessly upon her dress.

* * * * * *

"Yusef?! Hello? Hel...!" Tina cried into the receiver. Not even a dial tone to give her hope he would pick up. "FUCK!" she exclaimed as the tears streamed down her face and fell onto her jeans. With rapidly short steps, she paced her home. Strangely empty of the knick-knacks Jim had already packed, it should have felt more like her home and not her and her husband's. As a Spartan woman, she did not need this much house. She felt a responsibility as the provider to please her mate and give him the lifestyle he wanted so long as it was within their means. But if she had it her way, it would have been her possessions in boxes and her moving to an efficiency—though probably somewhere closer to campus. But without help Jim could not even begin to afford all the hidden costs of home ownership and, as a proud man, he was unwilling to accept "loans" from his soon to be ex-wife.

"I should have known," she talked to herself. "The way he talked, the way he overcompensated with football and soccer, the crap he filled the house with, how we never made love unless he started it and if he agreed...Oh God I'm an idiot!" she raised her arms in fury.

"Oh Tina you're one of the smartest women I know," Jim answered from the kitchen.

"Well why didn't I see it?" she asked angrily, not expecting a suitable answer.

"I've known lots of straight guys who act just like me in this day and age."

"But it's a new day and a new age!" she replied. "You said so yourself, now that you don't have to worry about Hellfire and damnation you can fuck guys again!" Jim stepped out from the kitchen and frowned with playful reprove.

"I don't think I said it QUITE like that, dear," he neglected to tell her about the gay community's frequent rejection of old timers like himself.

"Either way, I don't have a husband anymore," she offered meekly.

"What would you rather have honey? A husband who loves you but not in the way a husband should or a man who loves you and prefers your company to other men?"

"The latter, I guess..."

"Of course. And really dear, I just couldn't live the lie anymore. If we'd kept going, we'd both be more miserable. God, I wish someone came up with this formula of Yusef's sooner or I probably would have come out twenty years ago," he shrugged his shoulders. "And now that it's over, maybe you and him can deal with that latent tension between you two." He returned to the kitchen to noiselessly pack a few pots and pans.

"Yusef?" she asked herself quietly as she continued to pace around the room. "Well, we're both interested in each other..." she nodded as she continued thinking aloud. "And it does have a romantic ring that my new beau is the cause of my divorce without us even having an affair together..."

* * * * * * *

Ellen's sneakers splashed on the wet pavement as she ran her daily five miles. A variety of things, namely the preparation for the Fall semester, had distracted her efforts and forced her to run dangerously close to nightfall. Dinkytown was no Compton but like any sensible woman she avoided being alone after dark. Oh sure, if she was assaulted she knew the proper procedure. Tell everyone, don't wash up, and report to the police. Whether they caught the man was immaterial because they were not treating the real problem—the pervasive culture of rape. Sober men taking drunk women home with them was worthy of a high five so long as she didn't puke on them. And if she passed out in the middle? Well, finish up, then go home—just a funny story to tell to the guys. As far as they're concerned, women are merely vessels for their pleasure.

She could not take her usual jogging route because construction crews continued to repair the fire damaged side of the humanities building that faced the Civil War memorial. Against the ominous and sturdy building, the scorched star-burst stretching from the blast hole was but a popped zit that would soon heal. And besides, apparently the office where the religious fanatic planted his or her bomb somehow escaped the big remodeling a few years back; the crew was really just doing what they supposed to do in the first place. None of the people she passed on her run seemed to give much notice to the destruction; the memory of the riots was fading away. Readily they became more and more accustomed to a world without a God above and a Devil below.

The Sun was nearly set by the time her labored body entered the apartment. As usual, Mary Beth lay indifferently on the couch in the dark as the TV cast its flashing blue glow. Ellen cautiously stepped closer to her friend whose moist eyes reflected the light straight back. She stood next to her beautiful belle and lightly caressed her hair as if she were asleep. It was just as well, ever since Professor Yusef revealed what critics and apologists now called the "Godkiller Formula," Mary Beth had simply drifted among her obligations. She attended class just as much, did well in the exams, and worked hard all Summer but did so without so much as saying five words a day unless prompted. And though both girls still got along, Mary Beth seemed anxious to speak her mind but always stopped before the words even escaped.

She had heard of other people across the globe who dealt with the Godkiller in the same fashion but with less success. One man on FOX News had quit his job to virtually live inside his synagogue and pray. Though she loved the formula for its academic value, and because it finally put those religious nut cases who claimed her love for women was invalid, she occasionally found herself hating it for what it did to non-fire and brimstone religious types like her pensive yet placidly rendered love. Without saying a word she stripped as she walked to the shower.

The next morning Ellen ate oatmeal and read the newspaper, careful not to wake Mary Beth who opted to fall asleep on the couch rather than go to her own bed. Ellen wondered if she ever would. As she read her horoscope, the soft landing of feet on house's hardwood floor told her Mary Beth finally left the couch. They entered the bathroom, preceding the soft sound of tinkling porcelain, and entered the kitchen a few minutes later. Ellen looked up from her paper as her love steadied herself before the cool air emanating from the refrigerator for several minutes, her matted red hair dangling as she ran her fingers through them like a simple comb.