Band of Bloggers: Dead or Alive 2, and the passion of a summer romance

Hot and heavy

[I have a special place in my heart for the  Dead Or Alive series, and I see I’m not the only one to have eyes for the ladies of this surprisingly long-running fighting game series, featuring beautiful people bashing each other in the face. For the record, Charlton Heston picks Kasumi, but my girl is Lei Fang. ~Marcel]

Howdy! I’m writing this in response to the Band of Bloggers prompt. You can read this, if you want. I promise to be gentle. If it’s your first time, we can just snuggle. I am nothing if not a gentleman. If you want to leave, that’s cool, too; I won’t hold it against you in the slightest. Not everyone enjoys the touch of my tanned, leathery hands.

Are you still here? Okay. Whew. Thought I may have scared you off with that whole, “tanned, leathery hands” bit. So, Boxman214 has provided this month’s BoB prompt. I don’t want to speak for him, but I think he might enjoy the touch of my tanned, leathery hands; a tale for another time. Perhaps one involving alcohol and velvet furnishings.

I digress. He has asked us which game we have fallen in love with over the course of a summer, and I’m here to answer his heralding. While I did fall in love with Russian Roulette one summer in Tunisia, this will be strictly about a video game. That video game? It’s called Dead or Alive 2, and it saw me through one of my darkest hours.

You’re taunting me; I love it when you taunt me, you kinky, Oriental lady

I’ve been told by other folks who’ve played this game that it is about fighting. That may be true, but I submit that there is far more to gain from this game than sublimating your primal desire to beat the shit out of another human being. Friends – all of you dear to me – this game allows for so much more. Not only can you whale on a digital person to the point that an actual one would be maimed and possibly brain-dead for life, it also allows you… well, a picture is worth so much more than words:

To find love again

I remember my first love. She was short, with dark hair and doe eyes. Her form, supple. Her touch, so sweet. But before we were to leave on our summer trip to Cancun, she left me for a young Spanish boy (he was of age, but what did he have that I didn’t). I was devastated. I whiled away the month of June in an opium den, far away from the sunshine of Cancun and the vice-like grip of my love’s thighs.

Eventually, I grew tired of the sweet kiss of opium. It could not ameliorate my broken soul. As I stumbled out of that opium den, friends, I saw a vision. It was on a poster on display at a local shop, that sold something called Manga. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what a “manga” was, and frankly, I didn’t care. I burst into that shop with all of the fury of a detoxing Zeus. After I released my grip on the shopkeeper’s windpipe, he informed me who the angel displayed on the poster was.

Her name was Kasumi, and I was on the rebound.

Her eyes gave me great comfort in my time of need; the rest of her form supplied me with raunchy times that will go down as some of the raunchiest to ever raunch

We took it slow, at first. I learned how to control her, how to make my will her own. Soon, my fist became as hers. It was not long before we were in sync, she and I, a whirling dervish of fists and absolute domination. We were unstoppable. We conquered all who came before us. I could sometimes see her panties. We were destined for one another. We stood upon the summit, and all that lay before us from atop that peak was ours for the taking.

Break it! Break it, my love! Daddy’s so close! YES!

I wish I could say that it worked out between us. That she and I rode off into the sunset, her voluptuous form pressed against my back, gripping me like a vice. Just like… just like my former lover used to do. But as often happens in life, we went our separate ways. Eventually, the game’s disc broke. I won’t say it was because I often tried to stick my penis in the center hole in an effort to get closer to my Kasumi. That would be churlish of me. But the disc did break, and we parted. I still remember that summer fondly, despite how deeply it rent my soul. I can still smell the sweet smoke of opium. I can still picture the first time I saw her.

Summer love, so sweet; so nubile and pure

Treasure all of the love you have in your life, friends. Keep it close, and love it back tenfold.

You never know when it’s going to leave you to fuck a young Spanish boy.