Author's note : The apocalypse was averted, so Buffy never died. I needed to do this in order to give her sexual practices a 'history'. THIS STORY INVOLVES RAPE... IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT GET OUT NOW!!!!
"Mmmm...", Buffy sighed, her fingers plunging in and out of her wet tight pussy, bringing her to new heights of passion.
It had all started after Joyce's death. First there was the funeral; just getting it prepared and showing up had sucked the life out of her. Then Angel had come and gone, not unlike the usual drill with him...and Dawn. She was so cruel to Buffy at times that the Slayer just wanted to reach over and snap the young'un energy blob's neck. No, she didn't really want to do that and she didn't really see Dawn as anything less than her true sister. But sometimes it got too hard.
One night after patrolling, Buffy had come home to a dark house with a dislocated shoulder and bruises that would show for weeks. It was all she could do to drag her abused body up the stairs of the Summers home and into the austere bathroom, where she slumped over the tub and drew a bath for herself. She was too beaten to stand, and stripped her clothes from her own body while she sat on the floor, wincing in pain as she raised her hips to lower her tattered jeans from her violet spotted flesh.
But all that changed once she got into the tub. It was as if a spell had been cast, and once Buffy stepped into the seering liquid, all her pain melted under it's brutal regiment of sensory overload and simultaneous deprevation.
She lay for a few minutes, enjoying the exquisite feel as if it was the first bath she'd taken in her life. And then slowly, her hands began to idly travel about her body, squeezing and kneading the abused flesh into pliant state until pain turned to pleasure and even her sickest bruises sang through her body and poured from her lips. For without realizing it, the blonde Slayer had begun to moan in the sheer pleasure of her bath. Her skin had never felt so good, so sensuously charged even when another man or woman (for Willow had tried to show Buffy why she had chosen the female vein of desire, to surprising and frighteningly arousing results) had pleasured her.
Something about the night air, her increasingly lonely existence, and her erotic frustration since Riley had left led her right hand to seek out her breasts. She wasn't even aware of what she was doing at first, but as her own weapons instinctively fondled her breast whole, nipples puckering from delicate playfulness, the Slayer's moaning increased.
Buffy paused when becoming aware of her own moaning, shocked. She had never in her twenty years of hardships, Slaying or personal growth touched herself "like that". Never. It had simply never occured to her; whenever she had wanted contact she had longed for Angel or some other man (or woman) to bring release to her heated depths. But now, Buffy found it was even easier than she had thought. After a moment's pause, the Slayer continued.
Her hands spread themselves over her own body, pinching, stroking and squeezing without conscience. Then, with slow but sure travel, her right hand found itself at the hairline of her pelvis, and Buffy rested it there briefly, allowing her callused fingertips to relay information to her brain about the dense, course and yet soft, gentle nature of her pubic hair. Then it travelled lower.
When her 'fuck you' finger first (try saying that 3 x fast) slid against her moistened clit, Buffy shivered in excitement. Her index and ring finger quickly spread her labia in order to allow her third digit better access to her own throbbing clitoris. It wasn't long before the blonde Slayer was thrusting three fingers into her own dripping cunt, immitating a Parker-sized dick. It felt incredible, and the Slayer finger fucked herself to exhaustion, reaming and pleasuring her own wanton pussy as her other hand provided clit stimulation. Suddenly, without waring, the world exploded. Stars of heavenly beauty danced before Buffy's eyes as her throbbing pussy spasmed, experiencing the most intense orgasm she had ever had, greater than what Angel, Parker, Riley or Willow had given her, combined.
Then it was over...for that one time. But Buffy continued to pleasure herself daily, flicking her bean for all she was worth. She became her own most attentive and satisfying lover, sometimes pleasuring herself for hours on end; after the apocalypse had been averted, Buffy had celebrated with her friends. The party had been odd however, with her being conspicuously absent for large portions as she raced to the bathroom, bedroom, garage, anywhere she could thrust her fingers up her cunt and throw caution to wild abandon.
Until tonight. As Buffy lay there, plunging her own fingers in and out of her honey blonde vagina, she suddenly heard a sound. Her head instinctively turned towards the bath-side window, looking up into the impenetrable night. That's when the window crashed open, and in came Popeye.
"Hey, Slayer, I just got my spinach rush. Wanna fuck?"
Buffy looked at the cartoon figure before her, wondering if her mind had finally split.
"I'll just close my eyes," she told herself aloud, "and then this nightmare will be over. I fell asleep while fingering myself.... bet my poor fingers are like prunes. Oh well, I know a lotion that will cure that", Buffy said, smiling to herself as she contemplated the possibilities that lay in a great post-bath mistress-bation.
But when she opened her eyes, Popeye was standing in the bath with her, four feet tall and the three dimensional bathwater somehow turning the affected parts of his overalls a darker blue.
"Come on, honey, gimmeh some bunny!"
With that, Popeye leapt upon the terrified Slayer. She tried to fight this freakish cartoon off, but every time she would strike at him, he would simply slide sideways and avoid her fists. Being two-dimensional gave him the advantage of disappearing into thin air. His cock, however, disappeared into her well lubricated and fear-tightened pussy.
"Aaaagh!!" , Buffy screamed in horror, the cartoon cock sliding into her with all the strength of Popeye's spinach-induced fury.
Soon, however, she began to like it. There was something about his two-dimensional cock that no-one had ever given her before; it reached everywhere and nowhere at once.
Soon, the pair orgasmed looking into each other's eyes.
But Popeye, being a rapist rat-bastard, dressed himself in his soaking overalls and slipped back out the broken window in record time.
Before he left, however, he stuck his head back in and told the blonde beauty, "I'll be back, my sweet bitch!"
Sighing in a mixture of sexual contentment, annoyance at a broken window, and amusement at the cartoon strongman's antics replied dryly, "You'd better be, I'm not paying to have that window fixed out of my own pocket."
And so Buffy learned that she needed neither man nor woman to satisfy her sensual urges, just one good fingerfuck with a little bit of spinach flavoured elbow grease.
The End?