"Bit dramatic, innit?" Naya noted, tearing open her packet and pulling out an admittedly amazing smelling tea bag. "It's fuckin tea; 'less it's packed with enough coke to drop a bloody pop singer, I'm gonna feel scammed. Ten quid a fucking bag, this!"
"Oh, like you didn't get your money's worth." Harriet teased, gazing over the rim of her thick spectacles and poking her friend's arm, nearly spilling a drop of ludicrously expensive tea. "Could've at least bought the poor lad dinner before eye-fucking the bejeezus out of him!"
"For twenty fuckin quid e'should've dropped to his knees and gone to town on me fuckin fanny, not scam two old biddies out of their pension!" Naya replied, smiling as she recalled the cute, college aged kid manning the artisinal tea kiosk and doing his best to deliver a flustered sales pitch to the lusty cougars toying with him as his supervisor intently supervised a high score on her mobile. "Whatever. You want first swig or shall we drink together?"
"Samesies! Don't want you spoiling me!" Harriet said, raising her cup to her lips and blowing on it. "Fucking hell." She swore, her glasses instantly fogged over with steam. She took the spectacles off and set them on the coffee table, rolling her eyes as Naya smugly snickered with her genetically superior eyes side eyeing her.
"Spoiling you already with ten fuckin quid of tea, yeah?" Naya joked, raising her cup. "Cheers!" She announced, bowing her head and raising her cup with Naya before they took a synchronized sip.
Many inexplicable occurences happened back to back. First, the women were assaulted by the most heavenly thing to ever grace their tongues, a flavor so indescribably delicious they were forced to hastily set their their cups down and grab the coffee table for dear life. Second, in unison, Harriet and Naya experienced the most transcendentally intense orgasms of their fifty-ish years of life, the 10 pound sterling tea causing their fragile mortal minds to cascade into a dimmension of incomprehensible pleasure. Every synaps fired as one, their heads vibrating in place as pressure overloaded their minds. Just trying to process how good they felt caused the third inexplicable thing to happen.
Their minds were blown. And their heads exploded.
Dual blasts of blood, skull fragments, and brain tissue painted Naya's creme colored living room like a monochrome Jackson Pollock painting, no piece bigger than pea amid the carnage. Their bodies, side by side on the once eggshell white couch, were coated in the remains of their former heads and remained still as corpses. This, unlike everything else, was explicable. Losing your head generally made you a corpse, after all.
The inexplicability, howver, continued a few seconds later, as Naya and Harriet's headless bodies jumped up and, for lack of a better term, faced one another. Not only were they not dead, without a head, but having no eyes hadn't worsened their vision. Both women reached out and prodded the other's ragged stump without any difficulty seeing it, and found the flesh spongy and slick, but not painful to the touch as exposed flesh should be. If anything, it was kind of nice; soft, tender, and producing a nice tingling sensation down their now abbreviated spines when teased just right.
And, as each woman explored her friend's flesh, another inexplicable oddity came to pass. While they'd just cum hard enough to self destruct, the orgasms were only psychological. Physically, they were still fresh and ready, and left with a mind (or whatever now controlled them) still enraptured by the most intense sexual stimulation they'd ever felt. Blood was hardly the only thing soaking them, they'd never once felt hornier! And taking a step back to look at each other, really look at the absolute MILF before them for what seemed like the first time in their forty years of friendship, they realized something. They could totally fuck each other.
And so they tore their bloodied clothes off and fucked. And fucked. And fucked again. And kept on fucking and fucking from mid-morning until early evening, when their exhausted bodies finally gave out. After a short but surprisingly deep nap snuggled up together in the middle of the living room floor, enough time for some of the magic aphrodesiac to wear off, Harriet and Naya scrapped themselves up and shambled like zombies over to Naya's bathroom. Slick with sweat and blood and fluids, they wordlessly agreed that a shower was in order, and a shower together was ideal.
"Wild, innit?" Naya asked, unsure what else she could say as she rubbed her soapy hands across her milky tits.
"Which part? Our bonces popping? Us surviving? All the shagging? Or the fact we can still see, hear, and talk?" Harriet asked, on her knees scrubbing Naya's thick thighs with the tenderness of a longtime lover despite never having even imagined screwing her before today.
"That our heads still cast shadows, even though they ain't there." Naya answered, waving her hand through the emptiness over Harriet's stump and observing how the shadow of her former head remained unfazed on her shoulders. "You think, like, our heads IS still there, in some way? Like, their soul? Or parallel intersecting dimensions? Or something else all wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey?"
"Take a break from the tele every once in a while. This is the real world, y'know?" Harriet complained, squeezing Naya's thighs tightly. "Frankly, I never would've noticed the shadows if you hadn't mentioned it. My eyes were elsewhere." She teased, bobbing on her knees and kissing her friend's cooch with her stump. A stump which, they had jointly discovered over their hours of intercourse, didn't bleed. And now that the shower had washed away the last of the blood left from her exploded head, it looked less like a hideous wound and more like a slightly lumpy cross section from a crumpled medical textbook.
"Never could see shit without your specs. Might be hard to wear now, though." Naya answered, shoving Harriet playfully onto her ass.
"Honestly? I think I see better without my eyes." Harriet said, her neck twisting as she looked around the bathroom with crystal clarity. "Still would've preferred lasik, though."
"So'd my fuckin carpet." Naya lamented, remembering the absolute travesty the tea had made in her living room and the bloody footprints she'd tracked into her bedroom while fetching some toys for their playtime. "Gonna cost a fortune cleaning and replacing all me furniture. If fer nothin else, I'm callin those bastards up and given em a piece of my mind!"
"Gonna need a bucket, I think." Harriet joked, receiving a playful kick to the tit as Naya shut off the water and climbed out. The women dried themselves, but didn't bother dressing. Harriet had only brought the one gore slick set of clothes, and until the living room was washed Naya would just be inviting stains on anything she wore. For now, Naya grabbed her phone while Harriet grabbed the two cups of tea and their cardboard containers and brought them into the bathroom. Reading the labels again, with much greater ease this time around, Harriet discovered that Your Last Cup had no phone number, but did have a web address. Naya snapped a quick picture of the pair, intending to attach it to her complaint email if for whatever reason the tea's manufacture dared to doubt that she and her friend had suffered an orgasm induced head explosion as a result of their product.
Scrolling to the 'About Us' page in search of an email address or ticketing system she could use to file a formal complaint and reimbursement demands, Naya discovered a simple message.
"While you may be lacking a head, presumably you are not dead. Want to keep it this way? One cup of Your Last Cup poured down your gullet each week will keep you fed and vivacious! If you are unsatisfied, simply stop drinking Your Last Cup and your last cup will be Your Last Cup!"
"Oh, says right here. We're dead serious, this is LITERALLY mind blowing. Do not drink indoors or while wearing anything expensive." Harriet read, only now spotting the borderline microscopic fine print on the tea bag's packet. "Seems they've got their arses covered. I suppose we're going back to the farmer's market next weekend, then?"
"Suppose yeah." Naya sighed, the sound coming from where he mouth aught to have been while the huff came from her open throat. She reached up and scratched the soft hole in thought. Her shoulders shook, and Naya imagined making an impish grin. "Bet ya a tenner ah can get the kiosk cutie to spot us two bags free, for a throatie. Deepest he ever got, ah can tell ya!"
"Slag!" Harriet groaned, shoving Naya as they laughed together.
The rest of the night was, unsurprisingly, a montage of cleaning, fucking, and sipping what was presumably not tea, really. While Naya and Harriet sadly had to give their planned Sunday dinner an indefinite rain check, they agreed that there were worse ways to spend an evening and perhaps an abbreviated lifetime.