Punk and Pink part1: A b**st named Desire.
Time:23:44hrsThe following is an actual account of actual events. The ultra-sleek, metallic green body of an Aston Martin DB9 looked like a dragon moving swiftly in the height of battle. It's naturally aspirated V12 engine roared its war cry, as if signalling a warning of hellish flames to come. R. Valentine drove the b**st as he always had. He loved driving this car. It's raw power and agility under his control gave him a powerful feeling of total dominance over something that was never meant to be tamed. He gave no thought to the torrential downpour that assaulted the dark shiny panels of his b**st, a futile offensive of raindrops meant to penetrate the windshield was completely lost on him. He paid no attention to the flashes of thunder that cracked the black Atlanta sky, nor the sparks of brilliant colored rain drops exploding into a beaded primitive tribal dance to honor the city lights. He didn't hear the music that pulsed inside his b**st, all he heard was that voice, her voice and the invitation it extended.R.Valentine, bodyguard to the elite of "New Hollywood" watched the road intently. His level of stress at the moment made apparent by the near deathgrip he had on the steering wheel. He glanced at the navigation screen which plotted his course. Just a little further now, he thought. No time really. For just a minute he thought about the lyrics to the song that was playing, Lovers by Deftones, his all-time favorite band. Again he thought of power and in an instant he was back to his thoughts of her.Punk giggled as she chased her younger sister Pink through the small two bedroom loft they shared. In her right hand she playfully poked at her sister with a dildo she had bought her. Trapping her in a corner she howled "Its going down tonight bitch!!" Pink roared in laughter at her slightly older sister, older by a whole, entire 16 minutes. Punk and Pink identical twin sisters were orphaned at birth. Their parents were both convicted of racketeering and d**g-related crimes, both received life sentences, both had died early into their stays before the girls were old enough to even want to go visit parents they'd never knew more of than a few old pictures and several news articles, their grandfather had clipped despite his wife's objections. It was their maternal grandparents, that raised the twins, and they tried their best. They truly did. Punk grabbed her cellphone and dialed a number. She explained to Pink while the phone rang, "He's a bodyguard, but not like the big fat ones that are gross, he's really sexy and" she paused for effect. "He's black!!!" Pink screwed up her face and managed to squeak out, "How black?...?" Shocked into laughter at the question posed as much as the silly semi-concered look on Pink's face. Punk couldn't resist a tease. "He's stretch our little assholes big black cock, black." Pink's face screwed up again, but her little pussy got wet, very wet. She peeled off her panties and bee-lined for the shower before Punk had time to noticed the flush that had tinted red her pale white skin. Pink blushed easy, even when she was born, that's how she'd gotten her name. Punk raised a fist and shrieked like a rocker and though Billy Idol wouldn't do for a girl. Punk apparently would. After completing a series of calls and sending a text containing a several pics of her sister's tits and pussy. She then added address for the loft. Then she walked away from her phone to go wash Pink's back and more, just as she had always done since they were girls. Exactly thirty-seven minutes after leaving his office on the west side of Atlanta, R.Valentine made a left hand turn onto Peachtree Street. He went through three lights, then turned right into the parking garage for the 14th and Peachtree high rise known as The Elysian Tower. He sat for a few minutes finally allowing himself to take note of the rain as it still fell outside and echoed throughout the large relatively empty garage. He reached into his left side suit lapel and grabbed out of an inside pocket, a nice, bag of pungent, offensive, buds of marijuana and a cigar. R.Valentine rolled a modest blunt, turned up the music, reclined his racing inspired driver's seat and waited. He smoked. And he waited.