Happy Punk Pizza Day!
by Jacqueline Applebee
Dedicated to my friend Fluf, and all the good people at Pogo Cafe
“This is some mixed up fake holiday you’ve got going on, Jenny.” Ken ran a hand through his cropped brown hair and completely failed to hold back a disapproving bite of laughter. “There’s no such thing! Who ever heard of Punk Pizza Day?”
I sighed to myself as Ken held open the door to the kitchen and I wheeled myself in; he had complained all the way over to the abandoned house where my friend Fluff was holding a party and it didn’t look like he’d be shutting up any time soon. Ken was a great guy, but he could be trying as hell sometimes; we’d only been together for a month and I’d wanted to beat him senseless on exactly six occasions. In that time, I’d come to realise that we weren’t really compatible as lovers, but I wasn’t cut up about it; I’d set him straight before New Year.
We’d known each other as friends-of-friends for over a year and he’d told me that it had taken him that long to get up the nerve to ask me out. Apparently he never thought that a drinking smoking black girl with tattoos and a customised wheelchair would want to be intimate with a nerd like him. For my part, I had wanted to make up for lost time and had thrown myself into something that I soon realised was going nowhere. Ken was gorgeous, but his sweet smile, shy gazes and kisses that had initially made me want to swoon now did little for me. He was nice, comfortable and predictable and that was the problem; if he were more edgy he’d be my perfect match.
I’m a cow -- I know that already.
It was almost eleven in the morning and the old building we were ‘borrowing’ was still freezing cold. December the 26th was going to be a truly artic day, but it was a holiday nonetheless. Sure not many people outside of the straight edge scene had heard of Punk Pizza Day, but that didn’t make it any less important. I could still remember how lots of people had dismissed Kwanza when it first started being celebrated in England, but now it was growing in popularity. I didn’t do Kwanza, but I loved Punk Pizza Day; it was a welcome retreat after the commercial craziness of Christmas and a stepping-stone of celebration before New Year’s Day.
I waved hello to Fluff as he wrestled with a large bag of potatoes, and whilst he worked and swore out loud, I hauled my backpack off the handle of my chair and unzipped the bulging bag, yanking out cans and packages before arranging them on the wide kitchen counter. The broken up room already reeked of sour onions and spilt beer and I hoped that the atmosphere would change as the day went on.
“You must be Ken, right? I’m Fluff, thanks for volunteering.” Fluff flung himself around Ken’s shoulders and hugged him enthusiastically. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Ken froze with arms held rigidly to his side. Fluff was a sweetheart, but he could be a bit overpowering sometimes. Fluff was part of the reason that I was here; he’d had a messy break-up with Adam, his long-term slut of a boyfriend and he’d been down in the dumps for ages. I hoped that today would be a chance for him to let his hair down, relax and have some fun with friends, with a rocking soundtrack to boot.
Ken eyed Fluff from a distance as he ‘oohed and ahhed’ over the contents of my bag but as he got closer, his attention was drawn elsewhere and he squinted at the items of unfamiliar food.
“What the hell is tempeh?” he sounded astonished and held up the small squat package. “Soya cheese? Why would anyone want this stuff?”
“Because ... ” Fluff winked, “Some of us are Vegan. We don’t do dairy love.” He stuck out his hip and gave Ken the look that I recognised as ‘you wanna take me on?’
Here we go.
You have to understand, Ken was practically brought up on meat, meat and more meat; salad to Ken was the funny green thing that got in the way of the good stuff. I was usually a vegetarian and that was radical enough for Ken; anything more than that obviously scared the poor beggar.
“No meat and no milk … what else is there?” Ken looked at me and I grinned.
“Lots of great grub is what else!” I said in a singsong voice and Ken swept his wide hand over his face, looking exasperated.
“That’s what Punk Pizza Day is all about; we smash the established notions on food and have a good time.” And then in a sudden spurt of movement, Fluff jumped in a circle and flicked the stereo on; jagged noise burst out of the speakers and he started dancing, pogo-ing about the room giggling. The sounds of the Clash rang out all around me and the smile on my face instantly appeared. This was the most animated I’d seen him in months and I was really glad in his change of mood. After Adam had wrecked things, I’d been worried about him.
“And you do this every year?” Ken asked me and his voice was squeaky with disbelief.
“Well this year we have to make enough for eight or nine other losers so don’t just stand there, get your hands washed and help us.” I nodded to the sink.
“I’ve got an apron if you like.” Fluff held up a bright red item and waved it like a bullfighter would wave his cloak.
“No thanks, I’ll be fine.” He hooked his thumbs into the back pockets of his baggy jeans and rocked on the balls of his feet.
“Oh well, I don’t think it’s your colour anyway.” Fluff tied the apron around his neck like a cape and swished away.
“Ken, you can knead the dough for me?” I passed him a heavy bowl full of white mass. I had to keep him busy or else he would get into a sulk and be even less fun.
“Why didn’t we just buy the pizza bases from the shop?” he whined and I took a breath; this guy was unbelievable.
“Do you know what they put in those things?”
Ken held up his hands and took the bowl from my grip, grimacing at me.
The music was loud, the room was cold, and Ken started to complain that his back ached, but I caught him bopping along as he worked, jiggling his hips to the fast beat. He was having a good time and didn’t that just take the biscuit? And then I became lost in the sight of him kneading the dough like a professional. White flour clung to his hands and wrists as he pounded the mass, keeping rhythm with the tracks blasting out of the battered CD player. His biceps pulsed as he worked, straining beneath the fabric of his short-sleeved T-shirt. He looked completely at home in the kitchen and Fluff had seemed to notice it too; he gazed at Ken and then winked at me. Maybe he was more over Adam, than I’d previously thought.
Fluff gave me a bowl of chopped tomatoes and I passed him the olive oil and as we exchanged food, he crouched down to kiss me lightly on the lips; his thin beard scratched my ear and made me giggle.
“Thanks for coming babe,” he whispered against my cheek and then kissed me again, with his hard wet mouth pressed against mine; he was as aroused as I was. I grabbed onto his apron front, smearing him with oily sticky fingers until I came up for air, my mouth suddenly tart and tangy.
Ken stared from one of us to the other, a slight wariness making him look perplexed.
“Thought you didn’t like girls.”
“I don’t but I love women,” Fluff replied
“You know what I mean man, I thought you were … you know?” Ken screwed up his face with the effort of not saying the obvious.
“No I don’t know.” Fluff didn’t look cross, but he did hold his striped jumper out like a dress as he spoke in a squeaky voice.
“Gay. I thought you were gay.”
“Ooh, those are fighting words!” Fluff grabbed a squeeze bottle of mustard off the table and aimed it at Ken. Ken swiped the bottle of ketchup and the two men faced each other off.
“You’re not gay and you’re not straight … what else can you be?” Ken asked as they circled each other with condiments raised.
“Give me a chance and I’ll show you,” Fluff said and suddenly his voice was deeply serious, though he still smiled shyly at Ken as he spoke.
“You never know, I might just start trying out new things; going mad could be my New Year’s resolution.” Ken raised the ketchup to his lips and squirted a large spurt into his open mouth, swallowing the lot in a single gulp. Fluff looked stunned speechless; I know I briefly was and I wondered what alien species currently inhabited my boyfriend.
“On today’s menu we have three types of pizza,” I announced to break the silence. “First up, veggie sausages and baked beans.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Ken’s tongue was stained red from the ketchup.
“If you like that,” Fluff said as he rubbed his hands together, “Then you’ll love the banana pumpkin and chocolate pizza.”
“A sweet pizza? Have you gone insane?” Ken asked, even though he was laughing at the same time.
“I still think we should go with the chilli chocolate one instead.” Fluff frowned and started rummaging though the items. Ken waved his hands frantically, mouthing ‘no’ to me in a panicked way.
“And lastly we’ve got a marinated vegetable pizza, for those who can’t be arsed to fool about.” This was addressed directly to Ken; if he didn’t stop with his ‘stick in the mud’ routine, I was really going to do him in.
“At last, something that won’t make me ill.” Ken wiped his eyes and slapped Fluff on the back. “Put me down for two of those.”
“I’ll put you down alright.” Fluff reached over him and cracked open a tall can of beer. “Will you stop complaining? The whole point of Punk Pizza Day is to break the rules; if sausage and baked beans taste nice, then why not stick it on a pizza?” he took a swig of the drink and handed the can to Ken.
“Yeah why not come up with something yourself?” I teased and Ken picked up several items of food, it looked like he was giving each one some thought.
“Tofu, spring onion and ginger … that might make a good combination.” He shrugged, and both Fluff and I nodded, impressed. “I mean there’s nothing wrong with a Japanese inspired pizza is there?” Ken grinned and opened a packet of tofu.
“Here mate, let me help you with that.” Fluff hopped over to the sink and turned on the water. After a short while they were busy splashing each other and laughing out loud.
I was glad that the two men were getting on so well and decided that now would be a good time to go out for a cigarette. I shivered in the cold as I sat in the bare yard outside the kitchen. The whole world felt silent, save for the tinny sounds of the Ramones ringing out into the atmosphere alongside my own ragged breath … that was apart from the strange noise that crept in on my senses after a little while. I strained for a moment before I recognised it for what it was.
I wheeled around to the kitchen door, peeping through the gap; the thin view I got was a slice of action that I hadn’t expected in a million years. Ken was crouching between Fluff’s knees and the image made me gawp with shocked surprise. I found myself as a stunned voyeur as the men continued; Fluff reached behind his position on the edge of the sink and produced a tall brown bottle of what I guessed must be balsamic vinegar. He held it up high and dribbled a thin stream over his cock, smiling as he dressed himself like a salad. He guided Ken’s face to his groin, and the quick bobbing movements that came next left me with no doubt as to what was happening. I imagined what Ken must be tasting and I licked my lips perversely, picturing his warm mouth stretching over Fluff’s salt-sour flesh. Ken reached up and fumbled around until his hand rested on the bottle of mustard. A quick squeeze later and his fiery mouth glided up and down as Fluff puffed out quick breaths of what sounded like painful pleasure. My whole body tingled with the effect of this and for a moment, I wondered why we had never played with food during sex before.
The cold stung my eyes, and I turned away from the scene to quickly rub my face. I felt ashamed as I blinked my eyes open once more; as if I had no right to be acting like a peeping tom and every instinct screamed that I shouldn’t be doing this, that I should look away, but as I heard Fluff almost bark out loud with delight, I knew that I just had to keep watching; I had to know what Ken could do to make Fluff sound like that.
Ken stood, and drew his hands through Fluff’s curly blonde hair, before yanking a fistful and dipping down to kiss him long and slow. When they broke the kiss, Fluff was holding a banana and he waggled it suggestively, making Ken snicker. He returned to his position on the floor and soon Fluff was making heavy sighing noises as he enjoyed himself. He lay back further on the stainless steel worktop and his hair fell around his shoulders. Ken’s hands had reached beneath Fluff’s jumper, and as he arched up with a hiss, I knew that Ken had found his pierced nipples. Two pale hands pressed in circles against Fluff’s chest and the two men moved together now; I saw long legs wrapped around shoulders, hands holding down and gripping thighs, a tussle, a grapple and the noise that increased with every movement, until I couldn’t hear the music anymore. They rolled and bucked against the sink and soon Fluff’s mewling cries erupted and he slumped against Ken.
This was definitely an edge that I could go with. And so Punk Rock too!
I exhaled and sagged in my chair, amazed and turned on by what I’d seen. The two men began to disentangle themselves when suddenly Fluff jumped up with a shout, as water sprayed out of the tap. Ken laughed and turned off the faucet and then they both turned to me, where I sat.
“Come in, Jenny. We’re all done here!” Fluff called out and Ken hit him playfully on the arm.
Ken had the decency to look the tiniest bit ashamed as I wheeled up to him, but it only lasted a moment and he grinned at me with a naughty smirk.
“Are you okay? Are you okay with this and me and everything?” he asked, still smiling.
“I’m better than okay; you two looked great,” I meant it too; they did look impressive. “But mate, where did this all come from?”
“I just wanted to try something different, but then he tasted so good, I couldn’t stop …” he paused and looked down, “And I could let go with Fluff, I wasn’t worried about hurting him, being too rough with him,” he mumbled.
“You can be rough with me too; you can let go,” I said reasonably. “And if you do hurt me, I’ll rip your dick off with my bare hands,” I chuckled, though I was a little mad that he had thought me fragile in the first place. My wheels have made me defiant over time; if I were soft and sensitive, I wouldn’t be able to get by.
“How about you tell me instead? I mean you’ve got a mouth, haven’t you?” he asked and his lopsided smirk made me growl.
“Oh I’ll show you what my mouth can do.” I drew him down for a kiss and he tasted of mustard and vinegar and the bitter tang that I knew had to be Fluff.
Speaking of Fluff, he appeared at the side of the chair and we shared a messy three-way kiss that left me breathless. I closed my eyes and felt hands and lips and tongues all over me. I was fed chunks of sweet salty tomatoes, squares of bitter chocolate and mouthfuls of syrupy squishy bananas. Other tastes exploded on my tongue; volcanically hot chillies, pungent tobacco, tart fizzy beer and more that I couldn’t place. I sucked on fingers, and then I sucked on cocks, licking and slurping to the beat of the thrashing guitars. I didn’t know what belonged to whom and I didn’t care either; everything tasted way too good to turn down. I swallowed Ken and Fluff knelt behind him; busied himself by tasting his backside and just knowing what was happening sent a jolt to my own ass, a delicious ache that set my skin alight with sensation. Fluff was ever the multi-tasker and his fingers found their way between my legs, rubbing, probing and pushing into slick salt, urging me on to a shattering orgasm that rang out with the music; loud, brash and raw.
We managed to get ourselves cleaned before anyone turned up and by the time the last shivering freeloader arrived, Ken, Fluff and I were dancing around the room to the sounds of Stiff Little Fingers, laughing and flirting with each other. Ken’s Japanese inspired Pizza was gobbled up before any of the others and he was smug and insufferable for the rest of the evening.
I hoped that what had happened today wouldn’t be a one-off performance; Fluff and Ken and I made a killer threesome, and I wanted a bigger serving next time. I was so glad that I hadn’t lost my boyfriend, but had gained another lover, and I wished both of them a happy Punk Pizza Day.