The Pervert's Opera, a Vacuum Cleaner Love Story

By blblbl - Larry DeLuca

once upon a time, somewhere east of eden where electric power was plentiful, there was a kinky youth named Laurencio. Laurencio loved the pleasures of the flesh, though at this time he had tasted precious little, and could be heard often singing his favorite nursery rhyme:

This little piggy went to provincetown,
this little piggy had fun.
this little piggy got herpes,
this little piggy had none.
this little piggy cried, "wee, wee, wee.",
farmer brown can PUMP!

Now Laurencio was ever curious, and being a city boy there were no sheep in abundance to satisfy him, nor ripe young watermelons sitting in the sun awaiting his ready knife and trusty tool. So Laurencio took to anything he could find -- tricycles, egg beaters, stacks of floppy disks (which Laurencio found produced nasty paper cuts that took a long time to heal).

But while each provided a measure of satisfaction, Laurencio still felt that complete gratification was within his grasp. And so he waited.

There's a thing for me,
that will perform for me.
something leather with spikes to spare
waiting now, somewhere.
there's a toy for me,
perhaps a boy or three,
enthusiasticaly i await,
will it come, can i wait?
some tool, some toy,
some thing to give satisfaction,
to releive the itch i've been scratchin',
someTHING.
there's a thing i need,
and it's not out of greed,
they say these pleasures make us insane,
but waiting is what rots out my brain,
someday,
somehow,
somewhere!

Then, one day, he heard his mother singing to herself as she performed her household chores:

summertime,
and my son is so easy,
women jumping,
but he don't seem to bite.
but i see his eyes,
on the men all good looking,
and say to myself,
what ain't i doing right?

one of these mornings,
he'll come home with the herpes,
when i hear the news,
i will fly thru the roof,
and until that day,
he can stay here beside me,
but if he gets the herpes,
HE CAN'T COME IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!

Laurencio's mother loved him dearly, but she was not known for her subtlety. But soon she had finished the dishes and was singing a new song (even more loudly this time) over -- the VACUUM CLEANER.

Laurencio's head reeled as he heard the perfect strains, the clear and resonant hum. A love call at sixty cycles a second, and then he KNEW that he had found his saviour, something to lift him from the doldrums of his daily multiple orgasms and move him to a higher plane of degeneracy.

His plan was simple:

"Mom, I'm going to vacuum my room."

"Don't castrate yourself, dear."

Yes, the mother of Laurencio was a wise woman, if a bit blunt at times.

He closed the door, and, enraptured for having found his true love and he alone at last, stroked the lovely blue enamel plate on its stainless steel frame. He ever so gently inserted one, then two fingers into the end of the hose. He knelt and observed her low-slung, wide posterior, for she was a canister model. Then, because he felt a desperate need to reciprocate, he turned her on.

Now her love call could be heard, as her eager mouth cried out for him. More and more strongly she beckoned. Laurencio was about to answer her call when he was attacked with a sudden fit of good sense:

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

And so, he calmed the two of them and applied her more than willing orifice to the task of sucking the underside of his bed and the floor in his room where the dust kitties were wont to collect, and they squealed in delight at the prospect of a ride to the city dump, where they would meet up with lost friends and relatives. At this point Laurencio's trusty tool once again pointed out to him that he would be out of place there anyway (so to speak).

While still unsatisfied, Laurencio returned the vacuum cleaner to its home (in the closet, where all such fetishes should stay). His mother could be heard singing as she scrubbed the toilet:

now he's got plenty o' nothin',
and nothin's plenty for me. he's
had his fun, but now it's done,
he'll be a castratti.

and he'll do plenty of singin',
plenty of praisin' the lord, but,
that won't help, the stupid whelp,
the answer's plain you see.

Oh, i'll get no grandchildren,
but none is plenty for me.

Laurencio's mother burst into tears at this point. Though a diplomat she was not, she was not cold and unfeeling either. Laurencio ran to her and comforted her:

Try not to get worried,
i got turned on but,
you trained me well, mama,
don't you know
everything's all right yes,
everything's fine.
i was tempted but i was good,
and i still have a cock (knock wood),
close your eyes, close your eyes,
and relax think of good things tonight.

And the two of them wept with joy and sang in joyous unison as they danced around the house:
Allelujah!  Allelujah!  Allelujah, allelujah, alle-lujah!

While Laurencio and his mother do often get carried away, at least they know how to have fun together.

At long last, though, the itch in Laurencio's groin returned. But this time it was quite easily cured by a gift left in his Christmas stocking, a bottle of Kwell lotion.

Our lad Laurencio and his mother, though not together, fucked happily ever after.

* The End *

larry...