The
Smurf Mating Ritual
It's time to tell the truth about Smurfs.
You see, Smurfs are a lot like other folks; they have dreams and ambitions,
deep, thoughtful conversations with each other, and good and bad times.
"But," people ask, "do Smurfs have..... you know,...... *sex*?"
The answer is an emphatic and resounding YES!
And why shouldn't they? They're people, too.
What *most* people don't know is why Smurfs are blue. Well, the reason is
because Smurfs only have sex once a year.
Face it: if you had sex only once a year, you'd be blue, too.
Once a year, in the Smurf village, flags and banners fly happily in the
breeze, proclaiming that the day of the annual Smuckfest has arrived. Birds
sing and the Sun comes out to watch, despite the weather Smurf's direst
predictions.
I guess good ol' Mr. Sun is a voyeur.
In the middle of town, Papa Smurf gives a brief speech explaining the
origin of the Smuckfest; how Dr. C. Everett Koop came to the village and warned
all the Smurfs about AIDS. Papa Smurf knew that no one made condoms
small enough for a Smurf (even though everyone knows that all male Smurfs
are uniformly well-hung, for their size), so he decreed that all Smurfs
would only smuck one day a year.
"Smucking one day a year will help us identify any diseases we may
transmit to one another, and keep them from spreading to the animals in the
forest," proclaimed Papa Smurf. "Besides, it will give Smurfette a chance
to rest." You see, when Smurfette was made they had only a model of a nine
year old girl. So with his magic, Papa Smurf keeps the little girl the same
age for ever. So she won't grow up and to keep her from having children
that might kill her.
Yes! Smurfette must rest. For, as everyone knows, Smurfette is the only
female Smurf in the village, and after a full day of having vigorous, rabid
sex with two hundred cunt-crazed little blue men, she needs a break.
So, on the appointed day, Papa Smurf bids everyone throw their inhibitions
to the wind and immerse themselves in debauchery. And, as is his privilege,
Papa Smurf throws out the first throe.
At his signal, Smurfette unties the skintight blue band she must use to
suppress her natural bustiness, and her astounding tits spring forth into
the daylight. The Sun gleams lecherously on the smooth, blue flesh, nipples
crinkling in the light of day from her soon-to-be-unbridled lust.
Then Smurfette shimmies out of her skirt and stands before the crowd, naked
as the day she was born, save the spike-heeled white boots she has donned
just for the occasion. Her long, blonde hair cascades down her back and
lasciviously outlines her buttocks, clinging like a dirty old man's gaze to
each curve and dimple.
Her cunt winks lewdly from behind the golden shield of pubic glory, already
glistening in mad anticipation of each and every raging rod it would
receive that day. And receive them gladly it would, for hers is the indefatigable
furburger, and she hungered for the sauce blended in the heat of passion.
Smurfette turns to Papa Smurf and lifts her stupendous breasts with their
turgid nipples to his lips. He takes each one, in turn, into his mouth,
where his tongue dances the Fabulous Fandango around the areolae, as Smurfette
moans like a cat in heat.
Then, when poor Smurfette can take no more, Papa Smurf drops to his bony
little knees and sprinkles his magic deSmurfilating dust on Smurfette's
engorged cunt lips. Presto! The lovely blonde braiding material falls
from her, leaving her shaved smooth as a hard-boiled egg.
"Oh, Papa Smurf!" she cries. "Encore!! Encore!!", as she writhes in
anticipation of the Fabulous Furless Fandango danced 'round her pulsating
pussy.
Papa Smurf does not disappoint the damsel in distress; he slides his hands
under her tight little blueass and parts her moistness with his thumbs. As
the hot, funky juices begin to run down his arms, he plunges tongue-first and
tonsil-deep into her wiggling womanhood. Smurfette gasps as the talented
tongue begins to do its magic, and her cunt clutches at it like a baby bird after a worm.
Cradling his head to her crotch, Smurfette's hips begin to slowly grind and
twitch, for Papa Smurf's tongue has unerringly found her S-spot, and
Smurfette begins the slow, hot, agonizing rise to ecstasy. "Oh, make me
smurf, baby, make me smurf!", she pants, each stroke of his tongue causing
her to throb and clutch.
As Smurfette's moans and cries rise in pitch higher and higher, the crowd
gazes in amazement at the mighty mound of meat struggling to escape from
Papa Smurf's pants. This, then, is the legendary Trouser Titan, bulging
forth in a determined attempt to split the barrier.
Just when Smurfette is certain that she will die from sheer sensory
overload, Papa Smurf flings off his Levis and frees the Magnificent Heat-Seeking
Moisture Missle from its cradle. Maddened with blind lust, Smurfette hurls
Papa Smurf to the platform and leaps shrieking into the air, landing
unerringly on his Titanic Totem.
Suddenly filled, Smurfette's cunt explodes in a monster orgasm, the force
of which propels her screaming into the air again and again, each time
plummeting her onto the Potent Purple Pecker and triggering another climax.
Before Smurfette can achieve orbit, Papa Smurf grab her legs and pulls her
to the ground. Swiftly, he stands, pulling her to her knees. Gasping in
awe, Smurfette gets a head-on view of his hard-on, glistening in the light like
a war staff.
The sight of this shining stud is too much for Smurfette, who immediately
grabs both of Papa smurf's bulging balls in her hands and pulls him to her
waiting mouth. With preternatural skill and primeval hunger, Smurfette
devours the monster cock, licking and sucking like a starving child with an ice cream cone.
His ass knotting like a sailor's anchor rope, Papa Smurf pounds into
Smurfette's mouth with furious strokes. As he reaches his blazing climax,
he forces Smurfette to take all thirteen and 7/8ths inches of blue tube steak
and fires round after pulsing round of blue goo down her ravenous throat.
"Hurray!!", shouts the crowd. "Now it's OUR turn!!"
Suddenly the town square erupts with scenes of azure carnality, as 200 tiny
blue asses appear in the sunlight. 200 raging cocks swarm toward
Smurfette's waiting and ever-willing cunt, ready to make her scream for
mercy as they scream for more. 400 bouncing balls follow each other
toward the nearest available orifice, making Smurfette wish there were more
of her.
Those lucky enough to find access to Smurfette's fabulous form begin their
crazed humping, as others find their schlongs being stroked as fast as she
can grab. Those whose time will come later are coming now, as their friends
clutch lustily at their forbidden fruits, flinging frothy fuck-foam far and
wide.
Up the ass! Down the throat! Backhand, forehand, underhand, in the armpit
or behind the knee, the Smurfs erupt in a display of orgasmic prowess to
shame the most devoted student of the Kama Sutra. Soon the street become
hazardous to navigate (and navigate one must), as the square gets deeper
and deeper in the collective come.
Hour after hour, the orgy rampages on.
Gradually, as night falls, the screams of orgasmic ecstasy turn to the
moans and sighs of deep contentment, with the occasional whimper from an over-
enthusiastic sodomite. Soon all is quiet, as Smurf helps Smurf back to
Home and Preparation H. Tubes of Chap-Stick are quickly distributed to
soothe aching lips, and aloe gel is applied (as are lips, if it is too
stimulating) to the citizen's members to ease the burning.
As the exhausted (and completely sated) Smurfs lie in sexual stupor, gentle
rains come (not them, too!) to wash away all traces of the fleshfest that
was.
And you wondered why Smurfs are always in such a good mood......
