His name was m4j0r j0hNs0n, but that didn’t impress me. They all have big names, these Quake players. They seem to think that the more numbers they have in place of vowels, the better they are. It’s not true, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.

Yeah, the name didn’t impress me. I’ve seen them all – Fatal1ty, PURRI, Cl0ck, djWHEAT – they all had something to prove. It takes a lot to impress me, and most people just don’t make the cut. That doesn’t stop them from trying, either.

The place was deserted except for the m4j0r and myself. We gazed at each other across the map. He was sexy, in a picmip-5-blue-team-Keel kind of way. Just a big sexy blue blur. I think he felt something too, because he strafe-jumped over the pillars to join me at RA. I felt a naughty little tingle as I watched him hop across the columns, the “huuheh” sound he made turning my knees to jello.

We exchanged no words, the m4j0r and I. We had a connection that was deeper than the need for small talk. The vocalization would come later, and the cocky voice in the back of my head told me words wouldn’t be needed then, either. A good scream will tell you all you ever needed to know about a person. A good scream, and the size of their blaster.

The m4j0r laid down his plasma gun along with the extra ammo he picked up on the way. My mind raced with several dirty jokes about his “plasma gun”, but my mouth was too dry to speak. I resorted to bringing down the console and making a crack about the amount of plasma he spilled at my feet, but still the m4j0r said nothing. Patiently, he waited until the ;-) above my head disappeared before he made a move. Someone had taught this boy the finer arts of in-game etiquette, and the hollow ache between my thighs longed to find out what else he had learned. He drilled into my soul with a look, ravaging my heavily pixilated cleavage with his eyes. He seemed intent on gazing into my impressive bosom, the bosom that knew no boundaries of gravity or lack of support. He drank me in as I stood perfectly still, the lusty heat in my own eyes hidden by my gold-tinted space visor. This was his server, and I was merely the llama newb visitor. He had to make the first move, whether it be a hard thrust of his armoured loins into my searing lava pit – or a cruel gauntlet to the heart and a foul cry of “humiliation”. He had my soul with the first glance, and I had to see how the match played out. Best of three, sudden death, no holding back. Good thing my body armour was Scotchguarded.

I took a deep breath and readied up. Oh, he already had me – but I was going to make him work for it. I might be cheap, with my rocket jumps and flick rails and constant manipulation of the shaft, but I wasn’t easy. The fancy gold cowboy boots might tell you I’m a wild party, but the skin-tight suit of space latex says I’m all business.

m4j0r j0hNs0n followed suit and readied up, his expression unreadable. We ran to opposite ends of the map as the disembodied voice shouted down from above – 3 .. 2 .. 1 .. FIGHT! The war was on. The war for truth, justice and the American way. The war for supremacy of DM6. The war to see who would get to be on top. There would be no holding back; this game isn’t over until I have his weaponry in a discarded pile on the floor – his naked flesh covering my own – his man-ammo dancing on my tongue like the sweet taste of victory.

I ran towards RA, furious at the bad luck that had me spawning at nothing but ammo. What good is ammo when you don’t have a weapon? Luckily, the RL was still sitting perkily atop the jump pad. Good. I grabbed the weapon and armed myself, preparing to unleash a barrage of hot rocket goodness in the general direction of red armour, confident that the m4j0r would be waiting for me with his gun out .. and possibly even a rail or two. I peeked around the corner, taking a half-hearted shot – making sure it went nowhere near his groinal area. I wanted to beat him into submission, not render him unable to perform. I had my priorities straight. My aim, however, was another issue entirely.

RA was deserted. I stopped to listen, but the pounding of my heart drowned out any footsteps I might have heard. I cursed in frustration, my desire to kill overwhelmed by my desire to get naked and get fucked atop the quad spawn. Just then, I felt the familiar pressure of a gun at my back. Once again I had let myself be distracted and allowed myself to be surprised by a stealthy opponent. I steeled myself for the shotgun blast that would bring me to my knees, but .. nothing. Curious, I started to turn around but was stopped by a pair of strong hands on my shoulders.

A kiss, on the back of my neck. Not how I usually play this game, but there’s a first time for everything. His breath was hot on my skin as he explored my bodysuit with his thick fingers. Another kiss, a lick, a bite – suddenly, his 30 ping to my 75 meant nothing as the world dissolved around us. My knees, suddenly weak and lungs aching with the exertion – a sharp inhalation and breath held until I saw spots. I had yet to taste him, and already I was planning on squeezing him with my thighs until he screamed and the walls crumbled with the force of our passion.

The m4j0r pressed his body against mine, his arms wrapped around me in a crushing embrace. “Quad’s up in 15”, he whispered in my ear. His manly voice echoed in my head and spread warmth down my spasming thighs. Slowly, slowly, he removed my red armour, my yellow armour, my green armour shards. My body ached for his touch, but still I stood motionless. The only visible sign of my excitement was the uncontrollable clutch of my rocket launcher, my trembling arms threatening to drop my weapon at any second. He removed my guns and relieved me of my ammo packs. Finally naked, the air danced over my hot flesh and touched me in places that the m4j0r had not yet explored. Unable to take the teasing for another second longer, I turned and launched myself at him. Our lips met and we hungrily tasted each other as my hands fumbled at his armour. I needed him naked, and I needed him now. Frustrated with the lack of bodily contact, I tackled him. Too close to the edge .. we sailed over the jump pad and crashed in a naked sweaty heap at the very center of the quad spawn. I held him down and attacked him with my mouth, licking and biting every inch of flesh I could reach. He struggled for leverage, pawing at my body with little finesse but with more passion than I had ever felt in Counter Strike. The m4j0r wriggled free and grabbed my shoulders, heaving me up and under him – his searing flesh plunging into my soul over and over as I gasped for air and cried out in a primal scream of triumphant release. He invaded my personal space in the truest sense of the word, yet this felt like no telefrag ever experienced. The floor shook as he let out a thundering roar that pierced my ears just as he pierced my aching body and together we exploded into hot fiery giblets of passion, the world sharpening to high detail picmip 0 for a brief, perfect, shining second.

We weren’t alone. The shaking gradually subsided, and we became aware of spectators. The server hadn’t been locked, and people had joined the server, watching. Dumbfounded. As we spawned back in, mocking cries bounced off the top of our screens, shouts of misspelled insults and vague accusations of wall hacking and aim bots. m4j0r j0hNs0n and I picked up our guns and the sticky wet remains of our armour, not daring to look one another in the eye. The moment had passed, and we knew that there was little point in continuing. One last touch, one last sigh, and “gg” left our fingers at the same time. Bringing down the console, I smiled to myself and stopped recording the demo. A simple /quit brought me back to reality, and I removed my headphones. My chair was damp, and it would require cleaning.