Bunga Bunga
Witness if you will, the bathetic spectacle of a man trying to return his flesh and blood to the past. Silvio Berlusconi is stood naked in front of an ornate full length mirror whose frame consists of entwined cherubs, scrutinising his liposuction scars. He is in the master bedroom of his private villa in Naples, his gaze appraising the latest face lift. An excess of cosmetic surgery has made Berlusconi into a simulacrum of himself, his face rubbery and unreal, like the satirical Papi replica masks sold in fancy dress shops. There is a gold leaf pleated porcelain statue to left hand side of the mirror. It is a sculpture by Jeff Koons. The piece is a life-size imagining of Berlusconi as Priapus, naked except for a loincloth, its folds parted by a huge erect phallus curving upwards. Papi Silvio is kneading his short fat dick hard. He has popped Viagra an hour earlier but it's been slow kicking in. Slipping on his black satin robe, he switches on the large plasma TV, mounted on the wall opposite the kingsize bed, with the remote control. Papi presses the resume button for the built in DVD player. Tenebrae appears on the screen. Papi watches. It is the scene where Veronica Lario has one of her arms messily hacked off. Though ridiculous the FX is also gorily effective. Lario stares at the prosthetic limb on the table while a deep red arterial spray decorates the kitchen walls. Now stiff, Papi hits the off button and walks over to the bay window, relief washing through him that he has achieved tumescence. He sees the red Ferrari being waved through the security gates by two scalp hunters from the local Comorra and three people get out the car. The Priest, a tall and cadaverous man in a black suit of impeccable cut who is a capo in the Vollaro clan, is ushering two teenage girls, Angel and Lucretia, towards the main entrance to the villa. A lugubrious figure, The Priest smoothes down his greased back silver hair and gives the girls a quick briefing. His manner is calm, almost benevolent, his voice soft. It is the eyes, cold and blue, without a suggestion of warmth or hate, which undercut everything he does with a sense of menace. The Priest announces through the intercom that the girls are here and then climbs back in the car. Silvio goes to greet his guests. He surveys the girls rigorously. Lucretia's eyes are heroin blank and her make up has been sloppily applied. She is tall and skinny in a black pencil skirt with matching blouse and killer heels. Her face is long and drawn, framed by shoulder length poker straight black hair, with crimson pouting lips and angular features. She is very pale. Lucretia's pallor, along with her conspicuous intoxication, displeases Papi. He will admonish The Priest later. In contrast, Angel is how Silvio likes them, around his height, fleshy and vital, big tits and a meaty ass, a peroxide blonde. She is the colour of shit thanks to overexposure to sun beds and fake tan. Angel has an open, eager to please manner and seems ready to burst out of the leather mini skirt that grips her curves. Papi is further gratified by the crop top she is wearing, or rather the corporeal treasure it lays bare, a pierced belly button surrounded by puppy fat. After drinks in the reception room they retire to the master bedroom.
For the Lulz
On the plasma TV screen Jenna Jameson is getting a facial off Peter North in a vintage generic porn flick. Papi lets the black satin robe hit the plush carpet and beckons the girls towards him.
"C'mon ladies, let's get this shit together now."
Angel enthusiastically kicks off her heels and peels the crop top off while Lucretia, engrossed in the minor Titian staring down from the wall to the right of the TV, absently unbuttons her blouse. Berlusconi is sat legs spread apart on a black three-seater leather sofa pumping his cock to keep hard.
"Angel, hope you like your meat balls spicy."
To Papi's delight, she shakes her white arse and jiggles her tits in a little show, pretends to lick her nipples. Lucretia is down to black stockings and suspender belt. Papi beckons them impatiently over. They kneel before him. Angel licks his balls while Lucretia takes the crown of his prick in his mouth.
"Suck it like you mean it," says Papi in response to the perfunctory fellatio metered out by Lucretia.
"Jesus Angel, you got my balls a bobblin'."
Angel looks up at him with mock adoration, dragging her tongue up and down his nuts.
"Hey, there's enough of Papi's salami to go round."
Angel and Lucretia pass his dick to and fro like drunken hens fighting for the microphone on a karaoke night.
"You bitches are too goddamn much. Angel bring that beautiful baby pussy up here."
Angel steps up onto the sofa and plants a foot either side of Papi's torso. Angel drops her cunt on his face. Papi pokes his tongue at her shaven gash while clutching an arse cheek in each of his hands. He soon tires of performing cunnilingus and commands the girls to stand up.
"Now let's get things sorted out. Lucretia you get down here, Angel you get under there."
Berlusconi is fucking Lucretia hard in the doggy position, his hips slamming against her scrawny arse. Angel is lying on the floor beneath Lucretia. She is licking Papi's dick as it goes in and out while Lucretia eats her pussy. Noting that Lucretia is enjoying Angel's cunt much more than she did his cock and irked by her joylessness and lack of enthusiasm, Papi spits in the palm of his left hand. He withdraws his cock and moistens the crown.
"Mind if I stick it in this hole?"
Papi jams his dick hard into Lucretia's dry arsehole; the act hurts his prick but he hasn't torn the helmet and it's worth it to see a flicker of pain in Lucretia's dead eyes. Her arsehole is too tight to get a decent rhythm going so he lets his cock retreat.
"Lucretia, you farted and blew it out."
Papi decides it's time for a bit of ass to mouth to conclude the session. He sprawls out on the bed. "C'mon ladies finish me off."
They both takes turns sucking him hard.
"Ladies, that is some good head, yeah."
Papi comes on Angel's face. The ejaculate is dripping from her left eyebrow. Angel is smiling as Papi tenderly runs his fingers through her hair extensions. He clicks his fingers.
"Lucretia, get licking that shit up."