Hooker Smurf
Smurf Village buzzed with joyful sounds in the middle of a vast forest, during the annual harvest festival. Sixteen little blue creatures danced around in white pants and floppy white caps. Giving thanks to the rain god for bringing plenty of rain, and the sun god for bringing enough sun to grow the plants that fed the other forest creatures, whose fecal waste fertilized their mushroom crops. Papa Smurf led his loyal disciples in a traditional folk dance while singing their favorite magical tune:
"La, la, la-la-la-la, sing a happy song,
La, la, la-la-la-la, Smurf the whole day long
La, la, la-la-la-la, Smurf along with me!"
Every Smurf smurfing loved that song . . . except for Grumpy and Brainy. Those two guys were always out of sync with the usual mind-numbing Smurf harmony. Grumpy was getting sick and tired of pretending to be happy all the time. He turned to whisper in Brainy's left ear.
"Damn, I hate this stupid smurfing song. Let's go to my place and crack open a cold one."
"What an excellent idea," Brainy replied. "This poorly composed juvenile ditty is also getting my goat."
They snuck away from the village green in-between songs, and went to Brainy's small thatched-roof hut on Melody Lane. Brainy tapped a keg of jukkaberry wine and poured it into two wooden cups.
"Cheers, Grumpy!"
"I hate saying cheers," Grumpy grunted. They sat down on a brannabird feather sofa and sipped that bitter tart brew.
"I hate everything about this smurfing Smurf Village," Grumpy grumbled. "We eat nothing but fungus, drinking nothing but scuzzy moonshine, and do nothing but harvest and dance, harvest and dance, harvest and dance!"
"I also disdain this primitive pastoral enclave. A smart Smurf like me needs a broader field to exercise his intellectual faculties."
"I hate the way you talk."
"I love how you hate everything," Brainy chuckled.
"You know what I hate most about my pathetic smurfing life?"
"That Papa Smurf put up a magical force field to keep us from using any swear words besides 'smurfing'?"
"No, something much worse. I hate how there's only one female Smurf . . . and she won't open her legs for smurfing anyone!"
"Ah yes, that's quite a frustrating conundrum. How does Smurfette expect us to repopulate the village if her uterus is closed for business?"
"I hate repopulation. I just wanna smurf the smurf out of that hot blonde, and bust my blue Smurf balls all over her blue face."
"Me too, Grumpy. I dearly wish to spray my Smurf spunk on her lovely visage," Brainy sighed. He took another sip and went over to a shelf full of books. "I've been doing a lot of research behind Papa Smurf's back, and I've learned that there's many more Smurfs in distant lands."
"Really?" Grumpy gasped in shock.
"Yeah, really. In fact, there's over ten million Smurfs living in a huge village a hundred miles down the river. They call it 'Paris.'"
"Paris? What kind of stupid smurfing name is that?"
"Well, they're a lot smarter than we are, with democratically elected officials who actually give a smurf about their Smurfs. There's tall buildings all over the place, and scientific endeavors that would blow your backwater mind."
"Oh my smurfing god! Why didn't Papa Smurf tell us we weren't alone in the universe?"
"He wants to keep us ignorant, to keep us loyal. We've been slaving away for a creepy old wizard, picking mushrooms for no pay to fatten his treasure chest."
"Smurf that smurf. Blue Power!"
"Right on, brother. Why don't we sneak away from this godforsaken hellhole, and start a brand new life in Gay Par-ee?"
"You know I ain't gay, Brainy. I'd be smurfing Smurfette every smurfing night, if she let me."
"I wasn't using 'gay' in the sexual sense of the word. I was using it in the archaic superlative sense, to describe mirth and merriment."
"Whatever, you smurfing nerd. Let's get the smurf out of this dump, and have a gay old time!"
Grumpy and Brainy packed their meager possessions and a pound of golden nuggets into two bindles. They stealthily exited the only village they ever knew, marching a mile through the thick forest to a rushing mountain river. They untied a canoe and paddled westward through whitewater rapids.
"Damn, what a wild fucking ride!" Grumpy shouted.
"Holy shit, Grumpy. You just fucking instead of smurfing!"
"So did you. I guess we're out of range of Papa Smurf's magical censorship."
"Hip-hip-hooray, calooh, callay! Liberty, fraternity, equality!"
"Fuck you, Papa Shit! Blue Lives Matter!"
"Stay blue, stay woke!"
The river gradually calmed down and spread out. Five hours later, the skyline of Paris appeared on the horizon.
"God damn, Paris is fucking huge. What the hell is that giant metal thingy?"
"They call it 'The Eiffel Tower.'"
"It looks like a lightning rod to gather energy for magic spells."
"No, these civilized Smurfs stopped practicing sorcery three hundred years ago. It's supposed to be a monument to scientific progress and Smurfish enlightenment . . . but it's really just a kitschy tourist trap."
"God damn, bro. I wish we moved here a lot sooner. With your brains and my attitude, we're gonna make this town our bitch!"
They tied up their canoe on a pier in the heart of Paris, and exchanged their golden nuggets for Euros at a bank on Boulevard du Palais. They turned right on Rue de Rivoli, strolling past many elegant boutiques and cafes, with lots of fashionable Parisian lady Smurfs. They ordered some hot buttery pastries at Cafe Carrete, a historic building from the age of Napoleon Smurfaparte.
"Oh my fucking god. This chocolate eclair is way better than those fucking mushrooms that Papa Smurf shoved down our throats," Grumpy beamed with a mouthful.
"Quite an epicurean delight, I must agree. And those dolled-up Parisian ladies are far more attractive than Smurfette," Brainy replied.
"Them bitches are ridonculous, bro. It must be something in the water."
"Perhaps a high concentration of diacetyl cyclopentenolone, stimulating estrogen production in their ovaries."
"I hate chemistry, but I love those civilized hoes."
They strolled further down the Seine, turning northward on Boulevard de Clichy and entering the Red Light District, the sleaziest part of Paris. Red lanterns were hung in various doorways, with absurdly dolled-up Smurfs loitering about.
"What are all those red lights supposed to mean?" Grumpy asked.
"They're a subtle way of indicating a house of ill repute to wayward gentlemen."
"Say what?"
"Whorehouses, you simpleton. Brothels, knocking shops, pussy kennels, however you spell it."
"Red is my favorite color," Grumpy chuckled.
They caught a sexy show at the Moulin Rouge, bedazzled by over-the-top singing and dancing. Afterward, they turned a corner onto Rue Saint-Denis, and beheld a very ridonculous lady Smurf in a red glittering sequin dress. Big blue eyes, long shiny ginger hair, perky tits, and wide child-bearing hips. Her skin was shinier than ripe blueberries after a summer storm. Their jaws dropped open in utter admiration. She giggled sweetly and struck a seductive call girl pose.
"Bonjour messieurs, you look lost. Can I help you . . . find something?"
"Uh . . . yes, madame," Brainy replied awkwardly, horny as hell. "We just arrived in Paris, and, uh . . . and, uh . . . "
"You're a bunch of hicks from the wine country boondocks, looking to score some tail in the City of Lights?"
"Hell yeah, bitch!" Grumpy grunted. "How do you know we're from the countryside?"
"Because of your floppy white caps. Nobody wears those in Paris anymore, except on Bastille Day."
"What the hell is Bastille Day?"
"Never mind my uneducated companion, madame," Brainy said haughtily. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"
"Oui monsieurs," she beamed. "If you pay me a hundred Euros apiece."
"A bargain price for a drop-dead bombshell," Grumpy said suavely.
"Come on, let's go inside and get better acquainted." She grabbed those hillbilly Smurfs by the hand and led them into a "house of ill repute," full of hooker Smurfs getting hammered. She led them up a flight of rickety stairs, hearing the muffled sound of moaning, groaning, and ass-smacking.
"My name is Peya. What's your name, mon chérie?"
"I'm Brainy Smurf. And this grumpy fellow is Grumpy Smurf."
"How convenient, having two-syllable names that describe your personalities to a T."
"I hate my stupid-ass name," Grumpy grunted.
Peya led them into a small room with a king-size bed. She immediately lifted her sequin dress over her shoulders, with nothing underneath.
"Daayum, girl! That ass is juicier than a jukkaberry," Grumpy beamed, with a big bulge rising in his white pants.
"Your bosoms are utterly divine, like a pair of feather pillows for the sun god Himself," Brainy added dreamily.
"Merci, les garçons. I jog five miles a day along the Seine," Peya replied proudly. "Now show me your little Smurf bâtons."
"Yes, ma'am!" they replied in unison. They yanked their pants down simultaneously, with a pair of blue dicks springing out in her direction.
"Mmm, those cocks look très magnifique. I'm gonna suck 'em like lemon bon-bons."
Peya dropped down on her knees and shoved Grumpy's dick in her mouth while stroking Brainy's dick with her right hand.
"Awww yeaaaah, bitch!" Grumpy growled. "Keep munching that big blue baguette!"
"What a superb performance, madame!" Brainy beamed. "This is the finest handjob I've ever received. Well, technically it's the only handjob I've ever received, except from my own two hands."
She kept rocking her head all the way up and down Grumpy's shaft while twisting her hand all the way up and down Brainy's shaft. They groaned pleasantly toward the ceiling, mixing with the muffled sexual sounds of twenty other hookers and johns.
"Come now, madame," Brainy whined. "Sharing is caring, so put that pretty mouth on my Smurfhood."
"Oui monsieur, you smart-ass devil!"
She shoved his bigger cock right to the back of her throat, making her gag.
"Oh fuuuuck! I love ladies of the town who entertain me vigorously, sans decorum!"
"I hate your lame Victorian porn dialogue," Grumpy grumbled.
"Kiss my smart blue ass."
Peya switched back and forth between two dicks for the next ten minutes, performing fellatio like an all-star. She jammed their balls into her mouth and slurped them like Gooqa fruits, right on the vine.
"God damn, you dirty fucking Smurf! There's a party in your mouth, and everyone's invited," Grumpy cheered.
"Your oral performance is more theatrical than a Moliere masterpiece," Brainy added wittily. "But now my Smurfhood yearns to explore your Smurfhood."
"Hell yeah, you fucking whore. Spread those sexy legs for us, nice and wide."
"Yes sir, Mister Grinch," Peya snickered. She went over to the bed, lay down on her back, and spread her legs toward her shoulders in a wide V-shape. Her neatly shaved vagina winked at them sideways, so invitingly.
"I see Paris, I see France, but I don't see no underpants." Grumpy remarked. He literally dove onto the bed, then he grabbed her thighs and slammed his prick up her tight Smurfhole.
"Oh my god, oui!" she moaned loudly as he pounded away, jiggling her big tits like hell. "I love your rough manly style, Monsieur Grumpy!"
"I hate that fucking name!" he growled. "Call me Big Papi, bitch!"
"Hell yeah, Big Papi! Fuck me harder!"
Grumpy pounded her pussy viciously, making the bed springs squeak like a symphony. He smacked her ass cheeks over and over, purging his deep well of frustration over the shitty life he left behind in Smurf Village.
"Ah oui, Big Papi!" Peya moaned delightfully. "Spank the shit out of me, espèce de putain de merde!"
He kept slapping her tight blue heart-shaped ass while fucking her hard and fast. Brainy watched them nearby, masturbating slowly but surely.
"My turn, Grumpy. I paid just as much for the pleasure of her company."
"Fine, whatever," he growled while getting off the bed. "I hate sharing hookers."
Brainy got on his knees on the brannafeather mattress, and buried his face in her secret garden.
"Ah oui, Monsieur Brainy!" she exclaimed ecstatically. "Lick my pussy like a real man! Putain, c'est tellement bon!"
He lapped up every millimeter of her labia, then he slurped her clitoris as hard as he could, going down on it like a tiny dick.
"Oh my god, that feels soooo good. Most of my johns don't even know what cunnilingus means!"
Brainy pulled back and looked up at her pretty face with a wry grin. "I'm a firm believer in foreplay, unlike my impetuous friend."
"That's enough foreplay for now. Fuck the shit out me, you fucking nerd!"
"As you wish, madame."
Brainy banged that red light bitch even harder, literally bouncing off her hips, somehow managing to hold back his load. She reached down and worked her clit with her left hand while squeezing her tits with the other.
"Fucking fantastic, you devious harlot! I wish I could live between your legs, like a tampon with a pecker."
Peya giggled sweetly. "Ah, mon petit amour bleu, you are such a witty clown. Like a twenty-first century Tartuffe."
Brainy kept fucking her brains out, spanking that naughty girl like her old-school daddy. He smacked her clit just as hard, making her shriek.
"My turn, geek," Grumpy grunted. "I'm gonna fuck that harlot in the ass."
Grumpy lifted Peya off the bed and plopped her torso down on a table in front of a window, with a great view of the Paris skyline. He squeezed his huge penis through her anal sphincter, making them both groan loudly.
"Ohhh yeah, that's the shit," he growled. "Nice and tight on my big fucking dick."
He gave that asshole all he got, pumping his pelvis fast and hard, panting loudly. Knocking the table loudly against an old plaster wall, while Peya gazed out at the gleaming bell towers of Notre Dame cathedral.
"Keep screwing me so good! Casse-moi le cul, Big Papi!"
"Damn right, bitch," he growled, spanking and ass-fucking her senseless. "I'm your mac daddy Smurf, trickin' your hot blue ass all over this town!"
"Break me off a piece of that ass, mac daddy," Brainy interjected, mocking his friend's gruff personality.
Grumpy reluctantly pulled his prick out of her shithole, and Brainy took over. Grabbing her ass cheeks and screwing that hooker royally, spanking her even more.
"Three cheers for Peya Smurf, the finest courtesan in gay Par-ee!" he beamed. "I only wish you had blonde hair, like Smurfette."
"Gentlemen prefer redheads, motherfucker!" Peya growled. Brainy pulled out of her asshole and rammed his dick back up her pussy, driving her crazier. She soon reached a powerful orgasm, squirting all over the table and the wall, screaming French swear words and pounding her fists against the cedar wood.
"Bravo, bravo! What a gripping dramatic climax. Now get down on your knees for an encore!"
"Oui monsieur," she giggled naughtily, dropping down on the dingy floor and tilting her head back for a facial treatment. Brainy jerked off like hell, with his blue face turning red.
"Jolly good, Frenchie. Oh yeah, oh yeah, ooooooWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
He blasted her blue skin with thick white gobs of Smurf spunk. She opened her mouth wide to get a taste, revealing her pearly whites. He kept jerking long after his balls drained dry. She licked her sploogy lips with a satisfied hum.
"Get out the fucking way, dweeb!"
Grumpy shoved him aside and grabbed her red hair, yanking her head way back and aiming his gun for a kill shot.
"Awww yeaaah. Call me the Sun King, bitch."
"All hail the Sun King," she giggled. "Make it rain all over my face!"
"Fucking right, ginger! HOOWAH! HOOWAH! HOOOWAAAAH!"
The rest of her face got utterly plastered, with thick man-milk oozing down on her big tits and all the way to her pussy. She sucked Grumpy's cock dry, then she grabbed Brainy's cock and sucked harder, slurping loudly.
"Merci beaucoup, messieurs. That was a great show, like Moulin Rouge."
"Damn right, mademoiselle," Grumpy growled. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez-cous coucher avec moi!"
"Let's have a long-term menage a trois!" Peya beamed.
"Yes indeed. Our new life in Paris is starting with a literal bang," Brainy remarked while putting his pants back on. They sauntered toward the door, but Peya stopped them in their tracks.
"Aren't you forgetting something, monsieurs?"
"Oh, right. This is a house of ill repute, not a soup kitchen," Brainy chuckled. They pulled a hundred Euros out of their pockets and plunked those crisp cotton bills down on a cum-stained nightstand.
"Merci beaucoup," she replied, twirling her red bangs with girlish charm.
"It's a business doing pleasure with you, madame," Brainy remarked.
"Quite true, Monsieur Brainy. I love rough Smurfs like you, some come back often, s'il te plaît."
"I'll be your best fucking customer, Lady Marmalade," Grumpy beamed.
They strolled out of that chic brothel in a sex-crazed haze. Stepping out on Boulevard de Clichy on a mystical foggy evening, absorbing the neon ambience of the Red Light District. Paris was theirs for the taking. Their future in the City of Lights was so bright, they had to wear shades. There was no way in hell they'd ever go back to Smurf Village, but Brainy couldn't help singing an old familiar ditty:
"La, la, la-la-la-la, sing a happy song,
La, la, la-la-la-la, Smurf the whole day long
La, la, la-la-la-la, Smurf along with me!"
"I hate being happy," Grumpy grunted.
- Grumpy and Brainy decided to leave Smurf Village, finding it frustrating with its lack of diversity and opportunities for a more intellectual life.
- Grumpy suggested they move to the huge Smurf village called "Paris," where they heard there were over ten million Smurfs and a more advanced society.
- Once in Paris, they were impressed by the tall buildings and scientific endeavors, and Grumpy couldn't help but admire the attractive red-haired Smurf women.
- They went to a "house of ill repute" in the Red Light District, where Grumpy and Brainy paid a hooker named Peya for a threesome involving rough sex and spanking.
- Peya, hooker Smurf from the Paris Red Light District, enjoyed their rough sex, calling Grumpy "Big Papi" and appreciating his dominant personality, while Brainy enjoyed the opportunity to perform cunnilingus and anal sex.
