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Her gasps became moans, first breathy, then louder as her hips moved
even more violently. She ran one hand through his hair while pressing the
other against her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the noise. “Oh God,”
she moaned, “That feels so goooood…”

Harry would have said something in reply, but it was bad manners to
talk with your mouth full.

Not that it would be full much longer. Her moans had become cries that
she was powerless to silence. Her hips moved so violently that he had a
difficult time keeping his tongue where it belonged and he held onto her
thighs to keep her steady. The more excited she became, the farther her
clit poked out of its fleshy covering, and the easier it was to torment it.
Then her cries suddenly silenced as every muscle in her body locked and her
hips rose high off the bed, carrying Harry with them. For a timeless second
she remained like that, every muscle quivering in an explosive orgasm,
before settling back on the bed with a mighty groan.

Wow, he thought. Cindi never got off like that. Experimentally he
probed with his tongue again. She almost jumped off the bed. “No! Stop,
please… No more…” she pleaded in an exhausted whisper. Slowly Harry
uncurled himself and crawled up to rest beside her. He ran a hand along her
skin, which was cold and beaded with sweat. She rolled onto her side and
threw an arm around him, burying her face in his chest. She was shaking
like a leaf. He hugged her tight to him until the trembling subsided.

Finally she said “That was good.” She ran a hand down to his belly to
his penis. His erection had wilted, and she began to massage some life back
into it. It was not long at all before he was hard again, and she ran her
fingers tantalizingly along the length of his hard-on. She rolled onto her
back again, pulling him on top of her with surprising strength. “I want
you. Now!”

The little man spoke up in his mind again, telling him he was walking
into disaster, but Harry ignored it as she guided his penis into her. He
thrust deep, and she gasped. “Still touchy.” she breathed into his ear.

He thrust again and again, in and out, as her hips moved in time with
his own. With one hand he supported himself while the other ran along her
side, feeling her body. Her mouth met his in a deep kiss.

Too soon, much too soon, he felt the pleasure building. It mounted
higher and higher, until he knew he was going to come. He rested for a
moment until it died back, but it returned with twice the ferocity as soon
as he began pumping again. He tried to will it back, to force it down, but
the pleasure quickly grew out of control. He groaned through clenched teeth
at an explosion of pleasure as his seed shot into the warm depths of her
body. She held him tight as the echoes faded and Harold began to relax.

As the pleasure faded, fear replaced it. Now was the moment of truth.
Was she going to accept him or explode with rage? He pulled out and lay
down beside her, trembling slightly.

She noticed something was wrong right away. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” he mumbled.

“Don’t give me that. You just withdrew into yourself like a turtle in
a shell. What are you afraid of?”

He swallowed hard “I thought you might get mad. Because… because I
couldn’t last very long. I was premature.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, “That was fantastic! I
haven’t got off that hard in a long time. What-” Suddenly an idea began to
form. “Harry, what was it you were so upset about when you first came in
here?”

Harold told her about Cindi. It took much coaxing to get the whole
truth out, as the pain had not diminished after all.

After he finished, she was silent for a long time. Finally she said,
“I almost can’t believe somebody could do that to another person. Almost. I
know Cindi. She’s pretty fuckin’ shallow and self-centered. How on earth
did you ever get tangled up with her anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Harold said in a flat, lifeless voice. “I used to
think she was something special. I was in love. I thought she loved me.”

“I don’t think the bitch knows what love is.” Julie thought for a long
moment. “There’s only one thing to do. We’re going to have to get you over
this little problem of yours. And I think I know just the person to do
it.”

Harold lifted his head up to stare at her outline in the darkness.
“You know somebody who can fix it?”

“This guy can fix anything. He knows more about sex than Dr. Ruth.
He’ll know what to do. And then you can show that bitch what’s what.”

“I don’t know…” Harold began doubtfully.

“You don’t have to know.” she concluded for him. “I do.”

They lay together for a long time. Finally she said, “Ready for
another one?”

“Another what?” Harold asked innocently.

“Come on, now. You’ve had plenty of time to recover.” She began
stroking his penis, which was beginning to swell. “See what I mean?”

He felt the heat returning as he caressed her breast. “Well, if you
insist…”

“Of course I insist. You know what they say.”

“No, what do they say?” Harold asked as he moved on top of her.

“It’s usually better the second time around…”

And it was.

Sunday. Squirrel Heights. By noon, the temperature hit 100 degrees.
The misery at the boarding house was more acute than usual, as hangovers
didn’t mix with the heat at all. Also, because about five times as many
people as usual had spent the night there, the place needed a good airing
out. Especially the front room…

Michael Wilburn was fifty one years old and solidly built. Though
balding, his hair showed not a trace of gray and there was a mischevious
gleam in his eye when he smiled that showed that he had not yet surrendered
to his years and probably never will. He was handsome in an offhanded sort
of way, and had an easy, outgoing matter. He had once been an economics
professor at the local university, until he decided to apply some of his
theories to the stock market and found himself comfortably rich within a
year. Students who once avoided his classes like the plague now begged him
to return to teaching. He always got quite a laugh out of that. Despite
some trepidation when Julie had introduced them, Harold was surprised to
find he liked Michael almost immediately.

They sat at opposite ends of a study on the third floor, Harold in a
ratty old easy chair, Michael crosslegged on a small pile of pillows. The
air in the room was leaden, stiflingly hot. The only light streamed in
through a half-shuttered window and striped the floor between them. Harold
wiped sweat off his brow every few minutes, but his host seemed affected
not at all by the heat.

Opening up to a stranger is always hard, but hope forced Harold along.
Haltingly at first, then more freely with Michael’s gentle prodding, he
…End of the part2. To be continued..

During the daytime the streets were like that of a ghost town, as
everybody remained inside with shades closed to beat the heat.
Air-conditioners became the number one most stolen item in the city,
beating out televisions by a wide margin. It made sense of a sort, after
all, you don’t even need to get inside the house to steal one. Many a
homeowner returned from work in the evening to find a large hole in the
wall where the family’s most cherished appliance once rested and
subsequently broke down in tears. However, the chief of police had a sudden
brainstorm that guaranteed a quick end to this new and despicable crime
wave. He promptly instructed all four hospitals in the Willyville area to
inform the police of any emergency room cases involving hernias or slipped
discs. When the anxious media questoned the chief of police on this new
tactic, he simply replied that the results so far were “interesting”.

In other news, weather forcaster Bob Katt had been suspended for
appearing on his show wearing boxer shorts, a tie, and nothing else. It
seems the building’s air-conditioning system had been stolen the previous
night (an impressive feat in itself, considering that the compressor alone
weighed half a ton) and Bob had refused to work in a suit in the stifling
heat. So he had walked into the studio, dressed only in his skivvies, and
up in front of the camera before any of the stunned studio crew could even
think of stopping him. Of course, it would have been very bad form to yank
him off the camera, so they simply let him do his broadcast. Once he was
finished he was greeted by a purple faced station manager. Despite the
indian pressure groups, Bob was still very popular in Willyville, so he was
not fired on the spot.

Instead, the station manager sent him on a long overdue vacation…

Saturday dawned bright, clear, and warm (surprise, surprise!). Harold
was up with the sun, mostly because he hadn’t slept at all the previous
night. His stomach was a tight little knot and his heart would not stop
pounding. He was having second thoughts about the party. Harold Sykes had
never been a party animal, and recent… events… had convinced him that
he would be very wise to stay away from certain segments of the human race
(read: female) for a long time to come. In fact, now that he thought about
it, he was rather frightened of them. After all, if he couldn’t keep Cindi
happy, would he be able to keep any woman happy? And there would be lots of
girls there, probably all laughing at him. Why go?

Then he thought about his depression of the last couple weeks. Tom had
a point: right or wrong, he had to do something.

Tom came by at 2:30 and picked Harold up. As they drove over to
Squirrel Heights, Tom did most of the talking. Harold had lapsed into a
moody silence, soaking up Tom’s words and saying almost something in
return. If Tom noticed, he didn’t show it as he kept up a steady monologue
all the way to the house.

The Squirrel Heights Boarding house was a dumpy three story affair
sitting in front of about two acres of worn out farmland. The place was run
by an aging ex-stockbroker named Michael Wilburn, who believed in free
expression of everything and threw wild parties as often as the house’s
budget would allow. Some of the parties were solely for the house’s
inhabitants, but most of them were for whoever wanted to come. Booze and
most kinds of drugs generally circulated freely, and Harold had heard
rumors even more outrageous than that. All in all, it was pretty
intimidating to an introvert like Harold, and as he stepped out of Tom’s
car and looked at the peeling gray mass of the boarding house looming over
him, and the virtual sea of cars surrounding it, he knew he had made a
mistake. He as much as said so to Tom, who ignored him completely.

The affair was already in progress, as he discovered when Tom led him
around the back of the house. There must have been almost a hundred people
there, engaged in all manner of outdoor activities. People everywhere,
talking, yelling, running, horsing around, just generally having a good
time. A table had been set up by the back door, and there was somebody
serving booze and food to an endlessly regenerating queue.

Harold looked around and noticed that Tom had abandoned him and was
nowhere in sight. For an instant he almost panicked and yelled for Tom,
then his rational mind took over. What’s your problem? it said. You’re an
adult, you don’t need a keeper.

So Harold decided to walk around and see what he could see.

In one corner a net had been set up for a vollyball game. There was a
team on each side, if a pushing, laughing, staggering group of people could
be called a team. Harold stood off to one side with a small group of
spectators and watched. All of a sudden his attention had been captured by
one particular member of one team.

She wasn’t tall, maybe five seven or so, buxom, and maybe a few pounds
overweight. Which, as far as Harold was concerned, made her all the more
nicely rounded. Her hair was blonde and fell down past her shoulders. Her
face was pretty, but not spectacularly so. What had really caught Harold’s
attention was what she was wearing, or, more to the point, not wearing. She
was dressed in frayed cutoff jeans that were so tight they had split along
the sides halfway up her hips, and a string bikini top that struggled
valiantly to hold up under the weight of enormous breasts. Harold glanced
around and saw that she had the attention of pretty much every man in the
crowd.

His heart fluttered as he watched her move, and he couldn’t help but
wonder what it would be like to take her to bed. He imagined her long hair
spread out over the pillow, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, those
magnificent breasts moving in slow liquid motion as she arched her back in
sheer pleasure, her frenzied gasps as she reached a sudden and powerful
orgasm…

Harold shook his head to clear it. Get real, he told himself. Someone
like that certainly already has a boyfriend, and even if she didn’t, why
should she be interested in somebody like him? He turned around and began
to make his way back towards the house.

Sudden catcalls and whistles made him turn around again. She was
sitting on the grass, apparently having just fallen. When she landed, the
overburdened top string of her bikini had given way, exposing her for all
the world to see.

He could not help but stare. Her nipples stood out hard, the aurioles
colored light rose pink. He ached to take them in his mouth, to feel their
soft but firm weight in his hands. Then he looked up and saw she was
staring directly at him.

He locked eyes with her and suddenly his face turned beet red. Why, he
didn’t know, because surely every other male here was staring and thinking
the same thoughts. She made no move to cover herself, she just sat there,
challenging him with her gaze.

Finally, Harold turned and pushed his way through the crowd. His heart
was pounding in his ears and his balls, denied their release, ached
miserably. He still had a raging hard-on and kept his hands in his pockets
to conceal it. He felt sick, and ashamed. And he wanted to leave this
instant.

But that stare kept coming back to him. On reflection, he felt there
was more than just a challenge in her eyes. What, he didn’t know, but he
somehow knew it. It was almost as if a spark had passed between them.
Undoubtedly it was just his overworked imagination, but…

He felt as if she wanted him, too.

Day gave way to night, as days usually do, and slowly Willyville began
to cool off. People moved out of their stifling houses (except for those
who hadn’t had their air-conditioning stolen yet) and into their back
yards. They brought TV trays, TV’s, barbecues, bedrolls, and just generally
prepared to enjoy the night in relative coolness.

All over Willyville the night was alive with the sound of voices,
televisions, stereos, lustful moans and the other noises of humans enjoying
themselves outdoors. With one exception. In Squirrel Heights, all was
quiet. The place seemed deserted, in fact. Virtually all human life in the
area had gravitated to one spot. At the Squirrel Heights boarding house,
when night fell, the real party began…

Harold Sykes hadn’t left the party like he planned, although he came
awful damn close to doing so when he spotted Cindi in the crowd. But, in
the end, the thought of going back to his lonely, empty, stuffy house was
just too much. So instead he wandered around the yard, just watching the
extraordinary panorama of human activity taking place before him.

Eventually he found a peaceful spot on the back porch where he just
sat and watched the sun set. Tom came by and asked him how he was doing.

“Better.” sighed Harold, “I really feel better.”

Tom gave him a wink. “You may be feeling better than that before the
night’s over, old buddy.” and sauntered off before Harold could say
anything.

Now what was that supposed to mean?

As it got dark, the party outside thinned out. A few left, spinning
their wheels in the gravel lot out front, but most just went inside the
house. Probably gonna booze it up good, Harold thought, Although it looked
to him like they had been boozing more than adequetely already. Harold
didn’t feel like drinking very much, especially after his binge the other
day. Drugs didn’t hold much of an attraction for him, either. Just sitting
there, alone with his thoughts, seemed to do quite a bit for him.

Eventually he awoke from his musings and was startled to find he was
alone. With a sigh he got up and went in through the back door.

The back hallway was unlit. There was the low murmur of voices and
music coming from somewhere ahead. He could make out dim light from around
a corner in the distance. Cautiously he made his way down the hallway,
hoping nothing solid was in the way of his shins.

Eventually he made his way to the light, and when he turned the corner
he recieved the shock of his life.

The front room was spacious and poorly lit. But the light was more
than adequete for Harold to see what was going on. There was about twenty
to thirty people sprawled about the room, all naked, contorted in every
kind of sexual position imaginable. And a couple that weren’t imaginable.

Harold could only stare dumbly. The floor was almost lost amongst the
moving, writhing bodies. There were six people on the couch, in some
bizarre group contortion that made them look like something from another
planet. One man sat moaning softly in an easy chair with a hard-on that
Harold would have sworn was twelve inches long, at least. He watched in
total amazement as all twelve inches dissappeared into the mouth of the
co-ed sitting on the floor between the man’s feet.

The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent.

He heard creaking above him, and he looked up. In the rafters, some
twelve feet above, a rope and pully setup had been arranged with a large
wicker basket. Three people were in the basket, which swung back and forth
alarmingly. Harold quickly moved several feet over, out from under the
setup.

His head was spinning. His experience with sex had always been
limited, and now he was confronted with a full-fledged orgy. It was too
much. He didn’t want any part of this. All he wanted was out.
Watching his step carefully, he made his way for the nearest door. He
was almost there when he saw the one thing he *knew* he didn’t want to
see.

There was a clear spot at the far end of the room. Only two people
were there, a man flat on his back with a woman sitting astride his hips,
moving up and down in sensuous rhythem. He didn’t know who the guy was but
he knew the girl. Cindi. Pain that had been mercifully submerged now rose
to stab arrowlike into his guts. Cindi turned her head at that instant and
their eyes met. Instant recognition and something spiteful and unpleasant
glittered in her eyes for a brief second, and then she turned her attention
back to what she was doing. Her movements became more frantic, and her
moans much louder, exaggerating as much as possible.

Her parting words rang in his mind: “I want a man, dammit!” Well,
fine. All Harold wanted was out. He averted his eyes and ran blindly
towards the closest exit. He stumbled over one couple on the way (startling
them into a premature orgasm) and mumbled apologies as he kept going.

Then he was in a hallway, but not the one he had come from. Doors
lined the hall on both sides. He grabbed one and pulled it open, only to be
rewarded with several outraged yells. Redfaced and near tears from
embarassment, he pulled the door shut and looked around desperately. And
empty room, anything, just so he could get out of sight and get his
thoughts together. If he didn’t do it quick, he feared he might lost his
mind. He had to get away, somehow!

There, at the end of the hall. An open door, the room dark within. He
paused at the doorway for a second, but could detect no movement within.
Empty, thank God! He slammed the door shut behind him and let the blackness
envelop him as he sank to the floor with a hoarse sob. He lay in a heap for
who knew how long before he finally calmed down.

His heart gave a sudden leap as he somehow realized, in the total
darkness, that that the room wasn’t empty after all. After a long moment,
he finally summoned up a weak voice. “Who’s there?”

There was a longer silence, and he almost began to hope he was alone
after all, when a soft voice answered “Are you all right?”

Fuck NO! I ain’t all right, you stupid… But Harold controlled
himself before replying, “I will be, eventually. In about fifty years or
so.” He hesitated before the next question, “Are you, um, alone?”

“Yeah.” she replied, “I just wanted to be by myself. I kinda outgrew
the scene out front a long time ago. All the interesting guys already have
somebody. There was one guy, but I think he went home or something.”

Harold got up, a little unsteadily “I’m sorry. Sorry I barged in on
you. I’ll leave now.”

“Please, don’t.” she said, “Unless you really need to. I think we
could both use someone to talk to.”

Harold sat back down against the wall with a weary sigh. “Sure, why
not?” After a silent moment, he continued, “Would you mind turning on a
light? I’d like to see who I’m talking to.”

“Well,” she began doubtfully, “you may feel more comfortable without
the light, but if you insist…” There was a click and a flare of light
exploded into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he could open his
eyes, he recieved the last shock of a very long day.

Standing by a lamp on the dresser was the blonde from the vollyball
game, still dressed in the frayed shorts but minus the bikini top, which
lay discarded on the bed. She had her eyes screwed shut against the light,
opening them a moment later.

“Oh! It’s you!”

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open slightly and I knew that she wanted me as much as I did her. But

the sound of the approaching car was becoming more distinct and, try

as I might, I found it impossible to concentrate on what I was doing.

“Shit, I think you’re right,” I said, a little angry at the

interruption. “Who the hell could this be?”

There were three of them in the car as it pulled up in front of our

house. I didn’t recognise the men at all and guessed that they were

from our neighbouring town eight miles away. As two of them alighted

from the vehicle, the third stayed behind the wheel. All three men

looked drunk and my previous feeling of contentment quickly melted

away and was replaced by one of worried apprehension.

“Get in the house.” I told Corina as I waited for the two men to

approach me, “I don’t like the look of this.”

“Ah! Don’t send the whore away!” slurred the first, larger lad as he

sidled his way up to me, “she may be black but she gotta be better to

look at than this shit-hole of a house you live in! What’s wrong with

you? You too much of a faggot to get yourself a white woman?”

The anger welled up inside me like a great tidal wave of hate. I

looked around quickly for any type of a weapon I could find, but it

was too late. The baseball bat seemed to come out of nowhere. I saw it

coming and pulled back – a reflex action – but not back far enough.

The hard wood caught me on my side knocking the wind out of my lungs

and I saw the moon and stars swirl in a sickening kaleidoscope of

colour as my legs gave way and I hit the floor.

My eyes opened blearily. I could feel dirt sticking to the side of my

face. I tried to focus; figure out what had happened. Corina was

sitting on the sofa opposite me. She looked sad. I tried to move

towards her but quickly realised that I was tied, very securely, to a

chair and gagged with tape. There was no way I was going anywhere.

“Ah, so the faggot’s awake!”

I twisted my head and discovered that the voice belonged to the big

guy that had immobilized me with the bat. I tried to struggle again as

he smirked at me but it was useless. I contented myself by hurling a

long stream of verbal abuse at him that was completely muffled behind

the gag.

“Now, don’t be like that,” he replied, a sickening grin plastered over

his face, “we just want to find out what all the fuss is about. We

heard that some white guy had got himself a black bitch and we wanted

to see for ourselves. I gotta say, she looks a whole lot finer than

the other black whores you see round here!”

I twisted and turned, banging the chair up and down in my anger as the

man moved over to the sofa and gently stroked my wife’s hair.

“Oh yes, very fine indeed!” he continued.

Corina twisted her head in an effort to relieve herself of this man’s

unwanted touch but he quickly turned angry.

“If you don’t co-operate, honey, then my buddy over there is going to

crack your old man again, you understand?”

Corina nodded dumbly and allowed the big guy to replace his hand and

continue stroking her hair. But this time his hands were not content

to simply fondle her tresses and began to wander downwards to cover

her breasts through the outside of the dress. I could feel the tears

of anger sting my eyes as I looked on helplessly.

The big guy was now joined by his smaller companion as they both began

to grope and fondle my wife’s tits. I knew what was going to happen

and I just hoped that Corina would submit without argument – the mood

these guys were in, anything could happen.

I knew that the dress wouldn’t last for long and I was right. I heard

the material rip and saw the ruined garment appear from over the

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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The stereo ground out an old Beatle’s tune, slowing now and then with the
power failures typical of poorly wired urban apartment buildings. It may have
been two high school girls dressing for their first dates, judging from the
excitement and expectations, matching lipstick and nail polish, changing
stockings and shoes.

“It all went well last night then?” asked Sandy, stroking the hair brush
through her long, thick locks.

“Perfect. Just perfect! In fact,” confessed Chris poking an earring
through her pierced ear, “he was a real doll. Very mature and dignified and he
didn’t even try to kiss me! God, maybe I have bad breath or something,” she
chuckled, never loosing sight of her profile in the dressing mirror.

“That could almost get to be a drag,” mused Sandy, with raised eyebrows.
“That has never happened to me, so I wouldn’t know. ”

Chris snapped the earring shut. “Tell me about it, Sandy.” she said
light-heartedly, but with a sting of sarcasm.

“Come on. I can’t help it if I like to make love. It’s the neatest
thing in the world. Can you think of anything that feels any better?”

Chris laughed. “Its been so long I couldn’t say…”

Sandy turned from her girlfriend and searched through her big leather bag
until she found the foil-wrapped packet she had stashed there for emergencies.
Actually, it was Roger’s idea, but she had to agree it was a good one. “Chris,
come on, this will get you in a party mood.”

Chris looked up, saw that Sandy was holding a lighted cigarette in her
hand. She held the lighted stick of marijuana in offering and Chris accepted
it, though reluctantly. Too many times she’d let herself loose control while
stoned; it was a vice she had grown wary of.

“I’m no sure…”

“Don’t be such a prude!” chided Sandy, taking a deep puff herself. “Here,
smoke a little. C’mon.” She held the hand-rolled cigarette to Chris’s lips;
first the blonde turned away, but then when it was obvious that Sandy would
persist, she reluctantly took one tiny puff. A tingle of warmth followed the
sweet-smelling smoke down her throat and along the nerve channels of her body;
just the one puff was enough to bring a wave of relaxation to her excited body.
She felt her mind loosen as if obeying some secret command; another, deeper
drag followed, then still another…

Soon, in minutes, or in hours, they had finished the joint and Sandy had
produced another from her tin foil packet. Chris didn’t hesitate this time;
the nerve-soothing drug seemed to answer a deep inner need, and the inbred
instinct to resist it had been destroyed.

“There, you feel more like partyin’ now without getting goose bumps?”
Sandy asked her shy friend.

Chris nodded. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot… a lot better now.” Her
words were beginning to blur together, and she hesitated at places that needed
no pause.

“Now about tonight. We’re getting paid one hundred dollars each since
this is a private party that Roger is giving for some business friends. Is
that cool with you?” asked the brunette watching her friends eyes sparkle with
dollar signs.

“That sounds okay to me!” burst Sandy, stepping into her platform shoes.
She always waited ’til the last minute to put them on out of consideration for
the neighbors below who had to listen to the heavy clump, clump of her wooden
heels. Bending over to secure the straps and buckle the tiny metal fastener at
her slim ankle, Chris lost her balance and fell on her buttocks, with a groan.

Sandy looked down at her stoned friend. “For god’s sakes, Chris, get
your act together. We’re supposed to be calm and sophisticated debutantes,
remember? Not a couple of burned out hippies.”

“All right, all right,” snapped Chris defensively before bursting into
giggles.

Sandy headed toward the living room and called over her shoulder to
Chris, still in her bedroom. “Why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee! I’m
going down to see if everything is cool with Roger.” The door slammed behind
her and Chris, kicking off her uncomfortable shoes, padded in her level bare
feet to the kitchen.

“Roger!” Sandy knocked on the door and was greeted on the second knock,
but she didn’t step in; there wasn’t time.

“Howdy, Sandy. Everything set?”

“Just like you said. A few pulls on the grass and she’s ready for
anything. Grass does that to her.” Sandy leaned against the door jam and
stared at a scrawled note that lay on the doormat. Stooping over, she picked
it up and handed it to Roger. “Looks like this is for you. Must have blown off
the door.”

“Thanks,” said the landlord, scanning the pencil-written note. His eyes
narrowed disconcertedly, a gesture Sandy did not fail to notice.

“What’s the matter? Somebody’s tub overflow?” she giggled.

“Naw. It’s from Margaret… she lives upstairs from me. Christ, I wish
she would stop nagging me. Goddamn women, can’t leave me alone,” he chuckled
egocentrically. “Ah,” he sneered. “She’s just a dumb immigrant from the old
country,” he said, mimicking Margaret’s Swedish accent.

“Anyway, I came down to see if everything’s okay. I’m sure I can handle
those friends of yours, but I’m not too sure about Chris. She’s pretty shy,
you know.”

“Just keep gettin’ her loaded. She’ll be okay.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she sauntered down the musty smelling
hallway, passing by door after door, hearing muffled sounds of the evening
news, mixed with low conversation and the heady smell of dinner wafting out
from under closed doors. Sandy had one hand on the railing when something
behind her made her jump.

Appearing from nowhere — she had to be hiding in the hall to go
unnoticed — Sandy spied a blonde haired woman, mature and buxom in her tight
fitting cotton dress. Smiling, Sandy turned to greet her, to say hello, but
the woman stiffened and brushed on by, her mouth turned down in a hateful
grimace at the sight of the young black haired girl who’d replaced her in
Roger’s life.

Margaret’s low-heeled shoes pounded rhythmically on the threadbare
carpeting of the steps, then silenced as she reached the hallway above and
charged for the quiet of her modest apartment. The tears she’s struggled to
hold within burst free and she collapsed on her bed.

She’d heard it all. So that’s what Roger thought of her? A stupid Swede
from the old country. Margaret took one loving glance at Sandor’s photograph
and plotted her revenge. And, she the goods on him, she mused with a sudden
taste for retaliation. In the last three days that she’d been following him,
she learned enough about him to make a complaint to somebody. Who, she wasn’t
certain of, but there had to be laws against pandering women and reading other
people’s mail as she’d seen him do through the window of his living room where
she’d stood on the fire escape.

His second great interest was females and sex in all its myriad forms. The
college setting had given him almost unlimited access to young female
partners. The pool of partners he had to choose from was generally a cut
above the average as the young women who attended this school were
invariably rich and rather well bred. The daughters of rich men with
beautiful wives tended to be beautiful in their own right. His study of
sex, and pleasure and pain had already taken him around the world. He had
learned techniques that could put a man or woman into a coma from pleasure.
He had discovered tribal secrets and combinations of chemicals that could
turn the average human into a nymphomaniac or satyr in an hour. He had also
studied the many varied methods of achieving domination or forcing
submission. He had used these methods to bring many women and a few men
under his control.

The inconsequential of daily life though interrupted his pursuits. In order
to maintain his teaching credentials he had agreed to teach one under-grad
course at Merrioak. His only stipulation was that it NOT be related to his
specialties. The Chancellor, who was a fawning toad, if truth be known, had
set him up with this Introduction to Russian course. His attempts to teach
these young women a language he had mastered in two weeks as a youth were
beginning to wear on him. His students seemed frightfully stupid. Unable to
learn the simplest syntax rules and apply them.

The female students in Dr. Lassiter’s class were, for the most part
unconcerned by their lack of progress in what was to them a useless
language. Of the forty girls in the class, thirty-nine were there to see
the Prof. not to learn. The Professor was a fantasy wet dream come true to
many of these girls. He was 32, young enough, but mature too. He was tall
6′4″, and powerfully built, he had short wavy brown hair with red
highlights, large hands, a slow seductive smile, dark almost black eyes,
and a mysterious presence that drew them like moths to the flame. His
reputation of taking young lovers and leaving them both happy and strangely
silent about their time with him, did nothing to reduce the desire most of
his students felt for him.

For most of them, it was just a challenge to see if they could capture the
great Dr. Lassiter for themselves. Each girl was sure she could twist, any
man, especially someone below them socially, around their fingers and then
leave him hanging. These girls were from the social elite. Each believed
she would be the next Ivana Trump or Jackie Onassis if she just, played the
right games with the right CEO, Power Broker, Despot or promising Tycoon.
Their charms were not for some Teacher, even if he was a sex god as was
rumored.

If the truth was to be known Dr. Lassiter was a bit of a socio-path. He
considered himself so intelligent that most people he met appeared to be of
some other race. He used and manipulated people to meet his own
intellectual and sexual pursuits. He wasn’t concerned in the least about
their feelings or what they wanted for themselves. He could not conceive
that their puny lives actually meant much. He hid his spots though. He had
per fected his act to the point were no one on the campus even suspected
his lack of a conscience or normal morals.

He wasn’t sure that most of the women at Merrioak were even capable of true
thought. This didn’t stop him from luring the occasional debutante into a
date. Using drugs and hypnotic techniques he had learned, he would then
turn her into a little sex slave for his enjoyment. He discarded these toys
as soon as he tired of them. He knew to cover his tracks though. None of
his little playthings ever remembered any of the games he had play ed with
them, although most would be borderline nympho’s for the rest of their
lives. He was happy with this situation but it was his studies that
concerned him most, the intellectual challenges. Only at the intellectual
level could he seem to find goals that he had to strive to conquer.

The one real intellectual joy of his position here was the opportunity to
work with Avengelyne Torr. Ms. Torr was as brilliant in the applied
sciences of the mind as he was the theoretical. Their discussions together
had led her to breakthroughs in the development of new drugs and treatments
for the insane. Her research and

get on your knees, facing away from me. I’m going to fuck you from the

back.”

She gasped, “My ass?”

“That’ll be later, little girl,” giving her my oil-can Harry voice,

“Right now, I want to sink into your woman place, that sweet, hot girl

pussy, but from the back. Doggie position.”

Would my dignified mother submit to kneeling in front of me, ass in

the air, that I might fuck her like an animal?

As she was scrambling around she said over her shoulder, “God,

Billy. I love it doggie style. How’d you know?”

Kneeling just behind her, I looked down at her very narrow waist

and her beautiful ass and replied, “Didn’t. But I do now. You’re pussy

looks so sweet, pooched out that way between your legs.”

“Jesus, you’ve got a wonderfully dirty mouth.” Then she chuckled,

adding, “And I love it.”

She lowered her head to her crossed forearms, accenting the sway

of her back. With her ass pointing up, the cheeks of her buttocks opened

and I could see for the first time her ass hole. It was tan, slightly darker

than the surrounding skin, puckered and tight looking. I wondered if she’d

ever had Dad’s cock in her butt.

“You’re looking at my ass, aren’t you?” As if reading my mind, she

added, “I love anal sex but your father thinks its somehow dirty.”

“Susan, I’ve dreamed of this. Months . . . couple of years even.

And now we’re here. It’s one of those rare times when the realization is

greater than the expectation.”

“Don’t tease me, Billy. Touch me. I’m hungry for you.”

With the fingers of my right hand pointing down, I hooked my

thumb in her pussy and cupped her mons. I’d read of the so-called G-spot

and searched for it with my thumb. Almost instantly I was rewarded.

“Umph . . . yes! Right there! God, what you’re doing to me. I

can’t believe this.”

I rolled the pulp of my thumb over that slightly raised tissue under

her pubic bone as I fingered her clit on the outside. With my left hand, I

traced feather-light touches around the rim of her anus. The sphincter

tightened and then relaxed. I pushed the tip of my left index finger against

her anal opening, applying constant but gentle pressure.

“Oh, God. What are you doing? I can feel so many feelings but I

can’t tell where they’re coming from. You’re driving me ca-RAY-zy.”

Her hips were rolling and I had only to hold my right hand still to

allow her to set the rhythm and intensity. I continued to gently apply

pressure to her anal sphincter, occasionally bending down to drop a dollop

of spittle on her softening ass hole.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted. “Do that. Do *everything*!”

As she rolled her pelvis, pushing butt back against me, my left index

finger slowly slipped into her ass up to the first and then the second joint

and finally all the way. Curving my finger forward in her rectum, I could

feel my thumb in her pussy through the thin wall of tissue separating those

two cavities. God, I couldn’t believe what was happening!

Her orgasmic song started again, initially deep in her chest and

raising to her throat, ending in a wail. Vocal restraint was not her strong

suite. For one who was normally so properly restrained, it clearly did not

extend to sexual passions and orgasms. I idly wondered if my neighbors

could hear her, and then dismissed it, not caring a whit if they did.

We both slumped to a pile of entangled limbs, she exhausted from

another orgasm and me . . . well just emotionally wiped out.

…End of the part16. To be continued..

God, I want to – there’s no turning back. There’s no pretending it never

happened. Our relationship will never be the same. Billy, this is a HUGE

step. Are you sure?”

“As sure as I know how to be, Mom . . . uh, Susan. If you’re

worried I’ll suddenly become some arrogant, impossible-to-control jerk

after this . . . relax. I’ll be the same person I’ve always been. I don’t want

to change our relationship. Well, except this way. Do you believe me?”

With the same look of concern, she stared at me and then slowly

nodded her head. Then, her eyes softened and she smiled and whispered,

“Yes.”

Leaning forward, I gently moved her hand away from her crotch. I

knee-walked to her up-thrust pelvis and bent my cock down to her cunt,

running the head through her wet trough and then, welding it like a stick, I

used it to thump on her clit. I started softly but rapidly increased her clit

flogging until she was gasping and twitching.

“God damn you, Billy. Quit teasing me. You’re hauling coals to

Newcastle. I’m ready, dammit.” She smiled, taking the sting out of the

words and then added, “Fuck me, you shit.”

Shit? I was seeing a side of my mother I didn’t know existed.

Again, bending my impossibly hard cock, I forced the head into her

pussy, asking, “Want more?”

She answered by thrusting her pelvis at me, effectively burying my

cock deep in her vagina, ending any thought I had of feeding it to her

slowly. Who was I kidding? As if I could have waited!

I fell forward on her, mashing her breasts under my chest. Her

arms were above her head and I grabbed each wrist with crossed hands and

imprisoning her arms. I supported much of my weight with my elbows, but

allowed my mass to hold her down as I thrust into the female depth.

“Feel my cock, Mom . . . Susan. Feel the head of my cock slip into

you . . . into your cunt.” I emphasized the T sound. “Feel it push open the

walls of your pussy. Feel me open you up. There! Can you feel the head

of my cock touch your womb?”

Her only answer was to grunt and thrust back at me. Then we

proceeded to rut. Short rapid strokes followed by slow, longer strokes,

occasionally pulling all the way out and then slamming in again.

“I’m inside you. Feel me inside your woman spot.”

She struggled and thrashed about, seeming to fight me, but never so

much they she actually got away. We both supported the sham of me

forcing her, almost raping her. Of course, the bucking and rolling of her

hips gave evidence to the lie of her struggles to extricate herself.

I spoke into her ear constantly, but I can’t tell you exactly what I

said. I simply gave mindless utterance to the train of imagery marching

through my head. I remember only that it was very vivid and very lewd,

just like my dirty talk.

Mother is multi orgasmic and she bucked her way through her first

come minutes after we started fucking. Thereafter, I controlled her

orgasms, or so it seemed to me. I would slowly build up the pace of our

copulation and concomitantly, edge into increasingly lascivious imagery,

describing in lurid detail what I was thinking and what I wanted to do with

her.

“Feel my hardness. Feel my shaft . . . inside your pussy.”

She’d throw her head back, tendon straining in her neck, eyes

closed and mouth gasping. Then, face contorted, almost as if in pain, she’d

begin whipping her head back and forth, a wail building in her throat and

she’d come again.

We rested a few moments, my cock hard in her pussy, still

…End of the part15. To be continued..

aware of her. Aware of the smell of her hair and the press of her breasts

and the hardness of her pubic bone against me. And, as instantly, I became

hard. I didn’t wonder if she could tell. It was blatant.

“Susan,” I asked – it sounded strange to my ear, “could I kiss you?”

“Of course, Bill. I’d like that.”

“I mean a real kiss. An adult kiss. Not some little-boy-peck-on-

the-cheek kiss.”

“Of course, a real kiss. I never expected less from you.”

She closed her eyes and offered her partially open mouth to me, her

lips wet and seemingly slightly swollen. I opened mine and kissed her lips,

initially very softly, and later with more feeling. She kissed back, making

no effort to end the kiss, seeming to melt into it all the more. We kissed

again, and we mouthed each other, breathing into each other. I gave her

my tongue again and she responded the same way, pushing the urgent,

hardened tip of her tongue deep into my mouth.

I found my self slowly rocking my pelvis into her, rubbing my erect

cock on her thigh. I felt her push back in a slow, grinding fashion, pushing

her pubic bone into me.

“Let’s sit, Bill. I want to be closer to you.” She slowly pushed me

backward toward the couch and as it hit me behind the calves and I was

falling into it, she added, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Without waiting for a reply, she half turned and lowered her bottom

into my lap, wrapping her arms about me in the same motion, her breast

under my chin, her cleavage right under my nose.

“There! That’s better,” she proclaimed, reaching for my right hand

and placing it on her hip while I placed my left hand around her bottom.

She was sitting right on top of my hard-on. She squirmed a few times as if

better defining what she was sitting on. “Isn’t that better?”

“Ummph,” I exaggerated and in a strained voice as if an elephant

were sitting on my chest, I replied, wheezing, “Yesss. So much better.”

“You turkey, you. I hardly weigh anything and besides, you

haven’t paid enough attention to me tonight. Well, at least not in the last

few seconds. I want another kiss.”

I looked up at her and mimicking her surrender, closed my eyes and

offered her my lips. She immediately ran her tongue deep into my mouth

and groaned, “God, you’re delicious,” again grinding her butt on my lap.

Without thinking or conscious decision, I ran the palm of my right

hand up from her hip, across her waist to the side of her thorax. I missed

and was palming the side of her breast. She kissed me harder in apparent

approval so I went for broke and cupped her full breast in my hand,

thumbing her erect nipple.

I don’t know when we broke that kiss. Actually, I suspect we

never did. It just slid into others. I made no pretense of touching her tit by

mistake. Rather, I palmed it and weighed it and rolled her nipple between

my fingers in as provocative a fashion as I could imagine. I wanted to feel

her breast and more, I wanted to be patently blatant about it, that both of

would know and acknowledge that I was caressing her breast and nipple.

We were both moaning and voicing largely incoherent sounds. She

was hugging my head and tussling with my hair in a passionate, almost

frenzied fashion. Our faces were wet from the open-mouth kissing and

licking. I had pulled down the bodice of her dress, exposing her demi bra.

Her dark areolae were plainly visible through the lacy half cup. Pulling the

bra cup down, her hard nipple popped out as I bent my head toward her tit.

“Yessss,” she hissed, “kiss me there. Suck me, Billy. Suck my

nipple. You’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“You could tell?”

…End of the part12. To be continued..

I pulled up in front of my mother’s house and beeped the
horn. My daughters, 12 and 10, came running out and I waved at
their Granny as I pulled away.
Melissa, the 12 year old, looked over at me, “Wow, Mom, what
have you been doing? You look a mess”
Krissy concurred from the back seat, “Yeah, your hair looks
terrible.”
I asked them about their day and we went through McDonald’s
Drive-Thru without incident. At home, Frank was just getting out
of his car as we pulled up. He waited and then kissed us all on
the cheeks.
“Hi, Honey. You look like you had a tough day.”
“Yeah, it was long and hard. The girls already told me my
hair was a mess. They just don’t appreciate the effort I went
to, to get it looking this way!”
He tousled it with his hand, “I noticed, but I thought it
looked sexy. How was the traffic on your end?”
I smiled at him, “Well, Dear, the Beltway was a real mess.
I won’t soon forget today’s traffic jam. This one guy was really
zipping in and out, then he got behind me, and he just wouldn’t
get off my ass.”
Frank patted my shoulder, “I know, Julie, there are some
real fucking assholes out there.”
“You can say that again, Honey.”
Maybe the guilt would come later.
Then, again, maybe it won’t!

That evening, we set up our own private party. Just the three of
us in our little private apartment near campus. The light dimmed and
a slow rhythmic beat played in the background. The scent of heavy liquor
was in the air. We sat in the living room on the long leather sofa. All
three of us sat very close to each other. Jennifer sat in between me
and Joe. We laughed at the thought of us three sleeping together, it was
the topic of the night. There were no objections from anyone. Jennifer
was in her quiet little self making remarks here and there.
Somehow, in the midst of our conversation, there was suddenly nothing
else to say. We were quiet….
I saw Joe place his arm around her and started to passionately kiss
her lovely lips. I felt Jen’s hand crawl up my knee and started to carress
my thighs. Joe’s free hand crept up Jen’s mini skirt searching for her
soft wet cunt. I started to get hard seeing the action. I breathed heavily.
My right hand went down Jen’s blouse feeling her soft tan breasts
underneath my fingers. I felt her hand reach up my pants and squeeze and
carress my crotch. I moved closer to her neck and started to lick her sweet
skin. My lips were hot on her neck as my fingers worked to unbutton her
blouse. I felt her hand stroking my hardness through my denim jeans.
hhhhh..hhh….I muttered. I heard Joe’s breath and Jen’s mild moans of
ecstacy in between breaths of kisses. Jen’s blouse soon fell from her
lovely body and I anxiously threw it aside with my free hand. Jen did not
wear a bra, and all her beauty was exposed in front of my eyes. An animal
being took over me and I burried my face between her breasts painting
the beautiful mounds with hot saliva from my tongue. I heard her groan from
the expertise of the men surrounding her. Joe’s hand pulsated in and out
from under her skirt torturing her with wild sensations.
Somehow, Jen managed to unbutton my pants with her free hand and
release my hardened dick from its cage. She gripped it commandingly and
stroked it and squeezed it, my pre-cum instantly dripped from its
head. I played with her hard nipples teasingly with my probing tongue.
I sensed Joe trying his best to unbutton his pants. Jen took over and
finally was able to remove it completely revealing his prized possesion.
With Joe’s free hand, now wet and slippery with cunt juice, started to
stroke himself.
The action was too much for Jen to handle. She squirmed on the
leather sofa and eventually fell on her back with ME on one end and
Joe on the other. All three of us panted furiously as we try rearrange
ourselves to better positions. Jen reached for Joe’s cock and hungrily
inserted it into her mouth alternating the sucking from the head to
his balls and back. *FUCK* I thought. I was given the opportunity to
try out Jen’s wet pussy as her beautiful ass pointed my direction.
On all fours, Jen offered me her sweet cunt. I stood on my knees on the
other end of the sofa and gently entered the sweet offering with my
throbbing dick. It was tight, *Geesus*, it was tight and wet. Ohhhh…
Jen…*FUCK*…In and out I rode her savoring the sensations of every
nerve on my prick. Her muscles inside contracting at every push. I
was leaning on her back and I saw Joe on the other end receiving what
seemed to be a heavenly blow. His face contorted in pleasure, he looked my
way and grinned a devilish grin of sweet pain. He moaned and I moaned,
Jen screamed a little out of sweet pain while I penetrated her deeply.
We were like wolves howling in the night. Jen’s dripping saliva was too
much for my sight to bear. She swallowed Joe over and over and over again.
Our motions and the sight of each other FUCKING was too much for us
to bear. Faster I went, I could feel my prick tingle. Uugghh…unghhh…
Jen…I’m CUMMING…uhhh…*FUCK* “Don’t CUM in her pussy man!” Joe
managed to shout between grunts. “Wait for me to CUM man!…ungghhh..uhh”.
“Hurry Joe!…uhhhh…” I said.
In the back of my mind I knew what he wanted to happen. We always
talked about it when we watched porno movies that someday we’ll get to do it.
Jen stroked and sucked Joe faster that his dick was red and sore. It
was ready to burst. Jen reached her orgasm berfore anything happened. She
screamed a small little scream of pleasure as she continued to suck on
Joe’s prick. “Mmmmhhhm….mhhhhh” she muttered.
“I’m CUMMING man! uhhh…”
“Ohhh man! I’m CUMMING too!…ahhh..uhh” I replied.
Jen pulled away and placed herself between our pulsating pricks.
sucking both of alternately. I came first and spilled my white hot cum
on her face,”Geesus..uhhhh”, soon after, Joe shot his cum on her face
as well, “Ahhh..Jen!..”. Our shots were so strong and violent that Joe
splattered some of his CUM on my body, it was dripping hot, and
I splattered some of mine mine on his chest. Jen licked the CUM stained
flesh on both sides. She slurped every trickle of white sticky sperm on
my navel and on Joe’s prick.
All three of us breathed heavily. Spent, tired, and relieved, all three
of us collapsed on the slimy leather sofa. Our legs and arms entangled
together, with Jen between Joe and I.
Before I drifted into sleep, I remember thinking of what our future
would be…This FUCK is too much for me to take. I really enjoyed it.
I know I would want some more. How long will this relationship last?
Tomorrow is another day, we’ll see how it turns out…*FUCK*

The next few days was strenuous for me. Joe still treated
Jennifer like she was his girlfriend. He came in and out of our
appartment dragging her wherever he liked. It tortured me deep
inside to see Jennifer glance my way everytime she was with Joe.
I was extremely jealous. I became angry at how Joe was handling the
situation. He wasn’t treating me as a friend, he was treating me
like an outcast. He didn’t even consider my feelings towards Jen,
and he acted as if Jen exclusively belongs to him. After what happened
between the three of us, I expected that I would be a part of that
relationship. I was hurting inside. I reconsidered my feelings about
my friendship with Joe. I was flaming with hate. I wanted to punch
him and beat him with my fists. Images of blood dripping down his
forehead, and sore bruises all over his body. For a moment, I thought
of death. I wanted to hurt Joe badly, but I’m too smart for that.
Physical pain is so easy. No…I’m angry because he has what I want.
He should not have toyed with me and offered her body to me. What did
he think? After going for a three-way FUCK, he can parade Jen in front
of me? What the FUCK for? To brag to me that the best FUCKING BITCH
still belongs to him? He can swallow my CUM and eat my SHIT!
If he knew me well as a friend, then he would have considered
my feelings. I always considered his feelings, and that’s the reason
I held back from FUCKING Jennifer and back-stabbing him. I guess
I’m only one of those FUCK ‘friends’ who means nothing to him…I had
to hurt him, I had to teach him a lesson…I’ll FUCK him up really
bad, and he’ll regret he ever FUCKED up with me…
One wednesday afternoon, I came home early from school. I
…End of the part2. To be continued..

tips and gently pulled, bringing warm flashes of need that washed

over Jessie in waves. Breathing now in small gasps she rolled on

her side and gently pushed Hal onto his back.

What was fair for the swan was fair for the lady of the

lake.

Jessie planted kisses on Hal’s cheeks and mouth and gently

nibbled his ear. Her tongue flicked in and out and round, until

Hal too began to breathe in irregular gasps. Her right hand

worked down Hal’s shirt buttons until the top lay open at the fur

of his chest. Jessie ran the tips of her fingers though the

black and grey hair curling across his chest, stroking his skin

with desire. Shifting her weight to the side, she pulled his

shirt to the side, effectively pinning his arms still entrapped

in it. Desire driving her, Jessie moved her tongue over his

breasts, circling, tickling, sucking while Hal lost himself

wanting to play out the age old game of love and merging.

Jessie’s hand strayed to the straining bulge in his jeans and she

stroked the surface of his thighs with ever gentle, passes that

brought forth his breath in deep, pleasured moans.

Now it was his turn again. Hal struggled to return from the

waves of pleasure in which he floated. He finally raised himself

on one elbow and removed his prison of a shirt. Hal reached for

the zipper on Jessie’s jeans and slowly inched it down, his

fingers seeking to dip themselves in her soft petals of skin.

His probing palms found the triangle of golden fur that arched

skyward to meet him and he slid his hand along her glistening

thighs searching for panties. There were none to find and it

excited him to find her so ready and unencumbered.

Jessie’s right hand was no quieter than his. She worked the

snap of Hal’s jeans open and slid her hand inside over his under-

pants and caressed his shaft. It was full and firm and strained

upward at each pass she made from the tip to the base and back

again. She worked Hal’s zipper open and teased his firm member

into the softness of her palm. It was velvet soft on the outside

but unable to disguise the raging energy it contained. His shaft

wanted only to be as close to her, to burrow itself deep within

her magic. Its tip moistened in overwhelming expectation of

heaven to come.

Jessie and Hal were both breathing hard now. But they still

had entirely too many clothes on. It took them no time at all to

realize this fact and seek to remedy the situation to fulfill

their desire. Hal was the first to call a truce. He eased

Jessie’s jeans off, his hand stroking her thighs with a caress

with the softness of the wind, but the urgency of manhood.

Reciprocating, Jessie slowly slid both his pants down until he

stepped out of them.

He stood before her like a graying, handsome god of lust.

She knelt and took his shaft into her mouth and teased it round

the head and underneath with her tongue. Each pass brought Hal

closer to his knees. His back was arched and he fought the

desire to end this ballet in a flood of saltiness.

Jessie moved up his pubic area with her tongue…up the

chest…up to the neck and then to his lips again. They embraced

in a kiss that lost them both to time. Hal moved to enter her,

thrusting, like a sword seeking its rightful sheath and when he

found his home, they both cried out in pleasure.

Now a deep thrust, now a shallow one. They clung in each

others arms, swaying like great willows caught up in the dance of

life and the wind. The deeper Hal thrust, the deeper Jessie

tried to take him. She wanted him in the center of her being but

she could not keep her balance, her knees were so weak that they

had to hold each other up to keep from falling. Her body urged

Hal to follow it gently down without slipping from its hold, to

lie upon her on the sweet earth together.

Now their rhythms lost them to all reason. She moaned and

cried out and struggled sideways in an effort to bring Hal close

enough within her. He lost himself in passion until the urgency

of both of them brought the crescendo of centering. Hal came in

a flood of warmth and a cry to the gods of perfection. Jessie

joined him as his salty flood spread inside her loins that

brought her own loss of space and time. She was in a time and

place where nothing mattered but holding this man as close as she

could for eternity itself. They lay relaxed, merged with one

another while time itself passed away.

Tears began to stream down Jessie’s cheeks. They were tears

of pure joy, tears of pure happiness and she held Hal gently and

let them flow with her passion. Hal reached up and brushed them

gently away with his finger tips. He kissed their saltiness and

whispered gently into her ear, “I love you,” while he tried not

to cry himself. There was no way to express in words what he

felt about what they had shared with each other. Language lost

its power to express when compared with this sharing.

For the longest time they laid there, wrapped in eternity,

love taking them on a journey to the ultimate high meadow.

—

[Father Goose #47]

Once upon a time, bad King John raised a mighty army and set
out to conquer the known world. After a series of
successful campaigns, the remaining kings realized that
their lone efforts would never prevail. They had to band
together under the leadership of the best general they had -
“George-the-Turk”.

George the Turk had promised that he would defeat bad King
John’s army and would place him on a rack – in a public
display – so that no one would ever again try to conquer the
world.

While George the Turk was assembling his army and scouting
out bad King John, he also ordered his engineers to design
and build the largest rack here-to-fore made. The rack was
then fitted with wheels and required 40 horses to pull it.
When all was ready, George the Turk set out to do battle.

Bad King John, who was camped by a river enjoying the spoils
of his latest victory, had not yet gotten word of George the
Turk’s army. George the Turk knew that his army must attack
quickly before Bad King John could prepare a defense. But,
alas, the 40 horse team pulling the large rack could not
keep up with the troops. George the Turk ordered more
horses to be teamed, but, still they lagged. George the
Turk remembered that Hannibul was not too far away in the
mountains with a herd of elephants. Elephants would be
better than horses for pulling the rack. So, George the
Turk sent his second-in-command to Hannibul to rent enough
elephants for the job. Hannibul agreed and also sent along
his best elephant handler.

This elephant handler quickly realized the importance of his
unique position in George the Turk’s army and insisted that
he be given the title of “elephant engineer” and a huge pay
raise. George the Turk agreed with the title and the pay
raise.

The rack, powered by elephants and driven by the “elephant
engineer” , kept pace with the rapidly moving army.

Late one night they arrived at the enemy camp by the river.
George the Turk deployed his troops to cut off any avenue of
escape and issued the order to attack at dawn – on his
command. He also ordered the rack to be positioned on the
highest hill overlooking bad King John’s camp. This site
was the perfect spot to publically display bad King John -
to show the world what happens to anyone who dares to try to
conquer the world.

With dawn approaching George the Turk goes to the top of the
hill beside the rack so that everyone can see his command to
attack: when his sword drops —ATTACK !!!!!

All is quiet. The enemy camp is asleep. Every man is
waiting for the signal. The first ray of sunlight strikes
the helmet of George the Turk. He draws his sword slowly
and holds it over his head. The sunlight gleams off the
blade — and scares the elephants that are hitched to the
rack. They start trumpeting and rearing and the elephant
engineer can’t control then. He drops the reins and clings
onto the rack for dear life. The rack breaks loose from the
team and starts rolling down the hill — straight for the
enemy camp.

All this noise wakes bad King John. He orders an aide to go
outside the tent to see what is the cause. The aide takes a
hard look, comes back into the tent, and reports:

“As near as I can tell –

it’s a rambling rack from George the Turk with an elephant
engineer” !!!

[Father Goose #48]

There was once a very influential farmer in an obscure part of China.
He had a problem, for which he sought the counsel of the two wise men
in town. So he summons the two wise men, Hing, who is an scientist,
and Ming, who is a sorcerer, and requests that they find a cure for
his chickens who are losing their feathers and dying.

Hing decides to pay a visit to his mentor at the Agricultural
Extension of the local Community College, under whom he studied many
years ago. The mentor recommends the book “Everything You Always
Wanted to Know About Diseases of Chickens, But Were Afraid to Ask”.
So Hing visits the library, borrows the book, and finds inside the
report of a study that finds that feeding the chickens with an
infusion of gum tree leaves is often a cure for chickens losing their
feathers.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Ming reads obscure writings of ancient
wise men, he meditates, and he reads tarot cards. He also tries to
read the entrails of a fetal pig. Getting no inspiration he uses his
old standby, reading tea leaves. In a spark of discovery, he decides
that an infusion of gum tree leaves is the cure.

On the appointed day, at the appointed time, and at the appointed
place, the two wise men report back to the influential Chinese farmer.
Ming reports “As gum sticks to tables and chairs, so shall an infusion
of gum tree leaves make feathers stick to chickens.” Hing agrees,
saying “Four out of five ornithologists recommend sugarless infusions
of gum tree leaves for their chickens who lose their feathers.” The
influential Chinese farmer is ecstatic, for the two wisest men in town
are of a single mind.

He decides to carry out their advice, and it does not succeed. The
moral of this story is “All of Hing’s courses and all of Ming’s ken
couldn’t get gum tea to feather a hen.”

[Father Goose #49]

A certain African tribe, mostly swineherds and fishermen, lived on the
shores of a bay; the bay had treacherous currents and water turgid with
sand, but fishing was good and the tribe propered. They attributed this
to their sacrifices — a prize boar each year to every tribal god except
the sea-god, who got a gorilla. (A wise chieftan a few generations back
had substituted gorilla sacrifice for human).
One year, the tribesmen could not capture a gorilla. The chieftan asked
the tribal wise-woman, the surviving member of a Swedish explorer couple
who had gone native and lived with the tribe for many happy years, if they
should substitute their best boar for the gorilla. She was strongly against
it, even to the point of suggesting herself as a human sacrifice; he was
horrified and reminded her that porcine offerings had always pleased the
other gods.
The time of sacrifice arrived. With prayers for the sea-god’s mercy, the
shamans went through the usual rituals with the boar instead of the gorilla,
culminating in its being taken to the middle of the bay and having its throat
cut as it was thrown in. Nothing went wrong and the next year was as prosperous
as usual. After that, pigs replaced gorillas.
MORAL: Let a swine be your gorilla in a grainy, grainy bay. And if your Swede
decries, just tell her that a swine will always pay…

[Father Goose #50]

When South Vietnam was nearing its end, and General Minh was in charge,
a popular artist came to him and asked to make a statue in his honor (at
government expense).
“Please, General Minh, you are the people’s hero,” he told him.
“Yes, but make the sculpture in bronze,” replied the general.
So the artist made the sculpture, but when it was unveiled in a small
private ceremony, the general was furious. For the sculpture was made in
gold.
“I want bronze,” he said, “I want bronze!”
The artist went away in a hurry, deeply impressed with this show of
…End of the part9. To be continued..

After several days, lo and behold, a foo bird flies directly over the river.

In a rush of excitement, the photographer rushes out of the blind and snaps off
a shot. No sooner has he done this then a huge, evil smelling flock of foos
congregate over his head and completely cover him in guano.

The slimy stuff starts to harden and restrict his breathing. He frantically
tries to get the stuff off but to no avail. Finally in desperation, he throws
himself into the river. A large crocodile promptly eats him.

The moral?
It the foo shits, wear it.

[Father Goose #7]

It seems that Mary Poppins has moved to California. Yep,
she has started a business telling people’s fortunes. But, she
doesn’t read palms or tea leaves, she smells one’s breath.
That, right, the sign outside reads:

Super California Mystic
Expert Halitosis

[Father Goose #8]

Our Hero was travelling through the mountains on his quest for the Holy
Grail, when a fierce storm blew up and his steed caught some horsey sickness.
He hied to a monastary, and asked the abbot for a replacement, citing
their loyalty to God. It was the winter season, and nightfall was
approaching as they looked through the stables. All of the other horses
were sneezing a coughing also, until they came to a stable, where a large
shaggy dog story(oops) resided. The knight asked for him, to which the
abbot replied, “Oh, no, it is still stormy and getting dark.
I wouldn’t send a knight out on a dog like this.”

[Father Goose #9]

An international chess tournament is being held in a swank
hotel in New York. Everyone who is anyone in the world of
chess is there. After a grueling 4 hours of chess, the
players and their entourages retire to the lobby of the hotel for
a little refreshment.

In the lobby, the players get into a big argument about who
is the brightest, the fastest, and the best chess player.
The argument gets loud, each player claiming that he is
the greatest chess player of all time.

One security guard in the lobby turns to the other and says:

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s
chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.

[Father Goose #10]

Buster Crab and Sam Clam were the best of friends for years, and every
evening one could find Buster in Sam’s bar down by the beach. Finally,
Buster passed on and went to heaven. There, he was a model citizen, but
he longed for the companionship of his pal, Sam. So the next Christmas,
Buster was approached by God who asked him why he wasn’t happy. Buster
explained that although heaven was a pretty nice place and the halo and
wings were real swell, he missed Sam and wished he could go back and spend
just one more night in his bar by the beach. God recalled how good Buster
had been, and told him that he could spend New Year’s with Sam in his bar.
“However,” God cautioned, “things have changed since you were there last.
In order to keep up with the times, Sam has converted his place to a disco.
Still, if you wish, you may spend New Year’s eve with your old buddy, but be
sure not to drink and take good care of your wings, harp and halo.” Buster
was ecstatic and spend the next week practicing his chops on the harp and
polishing his halo. Then the big eveing arrived and poof! there he was
beside Sam in his disco. Well, they had a great time talking of old times
and dancing and singing and playing. After a while, the temptation to have a
drink proved too great for Buster, and he imbibed. So did the rest of the
party and the night got progressively wilder until morning found everyone
sleeping it off on the furniture and floors of the disco. His time up,
Buster was transported poof! back to heaven. God saw him, bleary eyed, halo
dented and slipping off to one side, wings in disarray, and well, you get the
picture. God gives him an ice bag and asks what happened. “Buster! You’ve
been at the bottle, haven’t you? Look at you wings! Look at that halo! And
where is you golden harp?” To which Buster replies,
“I left my harp in Sam Clam’s Disco.”
(better sung)

[Father Goose #11]

Isaac Asimov did this one best; the story concerns a man, Mr. Stein,
who robs a bank, jumps into a time machine, and re-emerges seven
years later (after the statute of limitations has expired). They
arrest him anyway, but the judge’s verdict is
“A niche in time saves Stein.”

[Father Goose #12]

Once upon a time, in Days of Yore, which is located in a rather
backwoods area of the country, there lived a remarkably innocent
young man named Nathaniel. Now Nathaniel, or Nate, as he was
often called, one day came of age, and his oppressive and none too
dutiful legal guardians just turned him out into the street, as it
were. Before giving him the boot, however, they did take the
trouble to inform him that he was, in fact, the heir to what was
locally considered a sizable fortune in rural real estate. This
comparatively immense farm tract was being held for him and currently
managed by a man who turned out to be a rather distant cousin, but
who was kindly and surprisingly helpful, eventually doing most of
what needed to be done to start Nate out in business on the farm.
Very shortly afterward, however, the cousin died, leaving Nate alone
with little experience and very few ideas. Poor Nate was absolutely
in a quandary as to what sort of reliable cash crop to plant on his
land. He had heard that one or two of his neighbors were raising
a certain (shall we say) “herb”, whose production was said to be
uncommonly lucrative. Our hero wasn’t really into haute cuisine,
though, so in search of an expert opinion, he consulted a local
soothsayer, an elderly woman whose character was completely beyond
question, if you follow my meaning. At the urging afforded by
about a third of Nate’s annual income, she gazed vacantly into
her crystal ball for most of an hour, until she finally intoned,

SOW ROPE, NATEY-O!
[A pun on "No Soap, Radio", which is also pretty obscure.]

[Father Goose #13]

There was this person who owned a bluish coloured volvo. It was a
‘72, however, making it quite old and even volvos don’t last forever.
When he was driving home one afternoon and the engine fell through the
engine mount, his wife brought up the subject of buying a new car.
“Well, I’ve really grown partial to this car, dear.”
“But, honey, that car is going to fall apart any minute.”
The argument went on for a while and the husband finally agreed that he
would buy a new car, but he would only buy another bluish coloured volvo.
It had to have the exact shade of blue or he wasn’t interested. And so,
his quest began.
“Nope. Areyou sure they’re made in that colour?” asked all the volvo dealers
in New York. He went to Connecticut and received the same line. He went to
Rhode Island, only to hear “Nope. Had one last week. Couldn’t sell it, so we
gave it to a junk dealer.” The man ran to the junk dealer just in time to
see the car of his dreams crushed.
He travelled through Vermont. “Nope. Can’t get one here.” He tried New
Hampshire. “I don’t think they make them.” He went into Maine. “I don’t
have one, but Charlie might. He’s the volvo dealer up in Caribou.”
Anyone ever told you about Caribou, Maine? It is freezing up there. It
is in the middle of nowhere. Now, at this point, a large storm system
was moving into the area and the husband was trapped in the storm.
Two days later the dealer arrived at his shop and found this guy standing
by the door. When the dealer opened the door the husband saw it. Right in the
middle of the showroom was his bluish coloured volvo. Perfect! He told
the man of his quest, gave him the money, and was about to leave when the
dealer asked “Why did you spend so much time searching for this coloured
…End of the part2. To be continued..

Suddenly and abruptly, I feel a hand being placed on my
shoulder and look up in surprise to see two handsome
men in jeans and tee-shirts standing there. One of them says
he didn’t mean to disturb me, but they knocked on the front
door and there was no answer, so they thought they might
as well try to look around in the back to see if anyone were home.

He explained that they were here to fix the filter in the pool
and that my husband had called them this morning from his
office. “Oh yes!”,I said, the filter is broken. Go ahead.”

From where the pool filter was located those two hunks had a
great view of me and feeling kind of horny, I thought I’d give
them a show. I undid the strap of my bikini top so that just a
little tit was showing and I pulled my bottoms tight up into my
crack. I knew they could see and that I was having an effect.

One of the guys, a blond who said his name was Pete, walked
over and asked to use the bathroom. “Right through the door and
to the left.” I said, sitting up a bit and letting my top fall
free exposing my large ripe breasts. The look on his face was
one of shock and embarrassment. “Oops!” I said, and winked at
him.

He just smiled and headed to the bathroom. While he was
gone I called the other guy over, Jeff was his name, a tall
muscular fellah with black hair. “Could you put some sun tan
lotion on my back” I asked as I rolled over onto my stomach.

“Sure!” he said. Slowly he massaged the oil all over my back and
legs. Then I turned over and asked him to do the front too, which
he did with a grin. His large firm hands began squeezing and
rubbing my tits. As he did that I reached up and unzipped his
pants revealing a thick hard ten inch cock! I sat up on the
lounge chair and slid his hot meat into my mouth. I sucked
slowly on the head of his fat dick, slipping it in and out
between my red succulent lips. By then his friend was back and
was already taking off his pants. I laid back on the lounge
chair and removed my bottoms. I spread my legs wide and the
blond guy took his big hard shaft and plunged it into my
dripping cunt.

The other guy stood over me and fucked my large aching tits
and mouth with his giant prick. The two of them pumped away
filling my mouth and pussy with their cocks. I wiggled and
moaned as they thrust in and out of me, ravishing my hot naked
body. My pussy clamped down tight on the thick tool between my
legs brought me orgasm after orgasm. I could feel the cock in
my mouth swell and I sucked faster until the guy shot a hot
creamy load of come down my throat. Then the guy fucking me blew
his wad deep in my cunt. I laid back, basted in their love
juices, and smiled.

After all of that exotic lovemaking, we all went for a cool
refreshing swim and did it again before my husband got home.

I wanted to thank you for that nice exercise video you sent me. I was
really surprised to find it in my stocking…I mean…at 36 24 35…I didn’t
feel chubby! But the phone lines were down this morning, and I was bored
so I tried it out for a lark….it WAS a LARK!!!!

I got into my leotards and leg warmers and started the tape. Good
old warm-ups…yuck!!…but this tape has some damn good looking dudes
doing the exercises…and I got….”warmed up” as I watched. I even felt
a little kinky doing the pelvic rocks as I watched their pelvises tilt
provacatively towards my own. My gaze remained riveted on their pelvises
as Jane began the arerobics. Through their stretchie suits I could barely
make the outline of a certain muscle that I thought could use some exercise.
…damn…better get back to work! 1-2-3-4 arms front…arms back…arch
out that chest…push it out! …well Jane…I’m thrusting my chest out
as arched as I can…can’t you see those taut nipples pointing at those
hairy chests beside you?!!!?? I’ld like to lick their nipples each
time they arch them towards me!

But its a little warm in all this…I’m sliding off the leg warmers
and unbuttoning my leotard. The background music is nice…reminds me of
this time I was with this guy in his car…well, never mind.
1-2-3-4 better follow the steps turn right 3-4…oh…lordy…look at HIM!
There is this gorgeous hunk of man working on my phone lines…well…
actually it seems he’s more interested in playing peeping Tom! And
he didn’t catch me looking…I think I’ll have a little fun with him!!
Besides…these dudes on the tape have been totally ingnoring me!
Instead of moving my arms around in circles..I’ll let my hands circle
my breasts as I rock my chest back and forth in time to the music…
oh, yes…he’s still watching! I wonder if he’ll notice me licking my
lips…mmmmmmm….

Ah…back to the pelvic rock again…guess I’ll point mine towards the
window as I pretend to keep watching the screen. My hands start on my
hips but move toward my thighs with each rock…my hands are just reaching
under the leotard as Jane swithches to floor exercises. I’m really putting
on a show now as I unbutton all my buttons and caress my breasts thru my
bra…yeah…this’ll make him HOT!!! Now my hands are roaming up and
down my thighs and I too have gotten very HOT…my breathing has changed
and I no longer want to tease…I want that man…NO ..I NEED HIM…NOW!!
I look at him and our eyes lock this time and he smiles wolfishly.
I beckon with my finger but he just smiles at me…and rakes his eyes
over my wanton body. Now HE pretends he’s working…but he’s still
peeking!!!

Two can play this game! I closed the curtains and waited…hoping.
The door bell rang! “can I have a drink of water” “Please do cum in”
I gave him his water then turned to open the door to let him out. HE
grabbed me then and said he wanted to do a few exercises with me. He
had the strongest tannest arms and I wanted him…so I took him into
the exercise room and started on warm-ups. I exercised my tongue on
his lips and his salty, musky neck. He quickly joined me in these
routines..as we deviated quickly from Jane’s routines. His strong
and gentle hands began to explore my hungry body…my nipples arched
longinly for his touch…I moaned when he found them. He caressed
them with his hands…then explored them with his tongue, sending
shivers throughout my body…when he took each nipple in his mouth
and sucked it was too much. I became so hot and so dizzy, I begged
him to stop. Instead he continued to suck while his fingers drifted
down and under my leotard. He felt around for my clit as I greedily
guided my clit to his lovin fingers. I needed it then. Sucking
and stroking he took me higher and higher..no chance for a breath
my clit hot and swollen soon exploded its passion climaxing for
what seemed forever!! Damn it was good! Thank You Mister!!!

I asked if there was anything I could do to repay him…and of
course he was ready with an answer. He took off his jeans and stood
over me. He was ready! Through the bottoms of his red Boxers I
saw his gleaming hardness. I got up on my knees for a better look
and pulled the boxers down to expose his want. I quickly gave him
a “blow job” breathing lightly over the lenghth of his shaft. He
responded by moving his dick closer to my mouth…”suck me…please”
I kissed the tip then wrapped my tongue aroungd his head…as he
began to moan. I continued feathering his shaft with my tongue
as I felt his need increase. He begged me to take it all in and
I relented. He was so hot he began to thrust into my mouth… I put
an end to that. I held his hips steady as I slowly sucked his weapon
deep into my throat, sliding it out, sucking it deep. When I was ready
I increased the tempo. He soon spurted with joy.

AS he rested himself I finished undressing and demanded equal
time! He laughed and said we should be even already but that as he
was in a very generous mood I should prepare myself. But I wasn’t
prepared for such an onslought! He started with my lips and ears
and my neck…teased my nipples and then totally mastered me with
his attentions to my clit. He used his fingers, his toes, his teeth
and his tongue…and what a tongue…he had me so high I never knew
if I was cuming or going…I know I did a lot of cuming…Then he
gave me a very wet sloppy kiss and entered me with his hard cock.
I wouldn’t have thought that I had any energy left to respond.
But after a few deep thrust, an answering need grew in me. My walls
responded trying to capture his higness as he drew back after each
new thrust. He positioned himself so that the thrust was greatest
near my clit. Each time he thrust a surge of shivers raked my body…
I was climbing higher and higher again nearing the places he had
already driven me. He had total control and held himself back till
he felt me climax…then he spent himself with 3 great deep strokes
and we lay spent in each others arms.

I must admit, it WAS a GREAT workout!!! Eat your heart out, Jane!!!

Love,
Sadie.

First Woman: “This is very embarrassing, but every time I sneeze, I
have an orgasm.”
Second Woman: “You poor dear! Are you taking anything for that?”
First Woman: “Snuff.”

————

What’s the definition of the perfect woman?
1) She’s three feet tall, has a round hole for a mouth
and her head is flat so you can put cocktails on it.
2) The sports model has pull-back ears and her teeth fold in.
3) The economy model – she fucks all night and at midnight
she turns into a roast beef sandwich and a six pack.

————

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench when a flasher walked up
to them and displayed his endowments. The first old lady had a stroke,
the second old lady had a stroke, but the third old lady’s arms were too
short to reach.

————

This guy walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender and
says, “I’d like a scotch and soda and I’d like to buy that
douche bag at the end of the bar a drink.” The bartender
says, “Hey, she’s a regular and you can’t be talking about
her that way.” The guy says, “Okay, I’d like to buy that
nice, young lady at the end of the bar a drink.” The
bartender says, “That’s more like it,” and he walks up to
the girl and asks her what she wants to drink. She says,
“Vinegar and water.”

————

A man meets up with an old roomate whom he has not seen for many years.
The roomate has had a sex-change operation. “Was it painful?”, asks the former.
“No, not really” says the second. “How about when they cut off your dick?”
“No that really wasn’t the worst of it.” “Really?” says the first. “How
about when they had to create the new hole? That must have been painful.”
“No the worst part was when they stuck the straw in my ear and sucked out half
my brains.”

————–

Why did God give women nipples?
To make suckers out of men.

Why did the Detroit Lions hire two nuns and a prostiture for the new season?
Because they needed two tight ends and a wide receiver.

Why are clams like women?
When the red tide comes, you don’t eat them.

How does a man know when he’s eaten pussy well?
When he wakes up in the morning and his face looks like a
glazed doughnut.

Did you hear about the new video game for women only, called Dick-Man?
You put a quarter in and get fucked.

I’ve got a joke so funny it’ll make your breast fall off:
Oh…I see you’ve already heard it.

What do you call a virgin on a waterbed?
A cherry float.

What do you do when your Kotex catches fire?
Throw it on the floor and tampon it.

What’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1?
Bo Derek getting older.

Did you hear about the new douche powder made of alum, LSD, and Kentucky
Fried Chicken batter?
It’s uptight, outasight, and finger-lickin’ good.

What’s the difference between a light bulb and a pregnant woman?
You can unscrew a light bulb.

What do fat girls and mopeds have in common?
They’re both fun to ride until a friend see you.

Why are women giving up bowling for screwing?
The balls are lighter and you don’t have to change your shoes.

What’s the difference between a job and a wife?
After five years, the job still sucks.

How do you make paper dolls?
Screw an old bag.

What’s the white stuff you find in women’s panties?
Clitty litter.

Bumber sticker: Support E.R.A. – make him sleep on the wet spot.

What do you call a rehabilitation home for ex-prostitutes?
An all-the-way house.

Definition of a wife: “An attachment you screw on the bed to get the
housework done.”

How are an oven and a woman alike?
You have to get them both hot before you can stick the meat in.

Remember what’s worse than getting raped by Jack the Ripper? (Getting
fingered by Captain Hook.) Well, you know what’s worse than that?
Getting eaten out by Jaws.

What’s the purpose of a bellybutton?
To put your gum in on the way down.

Why was the stamp commemorating prostitution so unpopular?
You had to pay an extra ten cents to lick it.

What’s the difference between a hormone and an enzyme?
You can’t hear an enzyme.

How do you make a hormone?
Put sand in the Vaseline.

What’s a cunt that talks back?
An answering cervix.

What do you give an eighty-year-old woman for her birthday?
Mikey … He’ll eat anything.

What do you call a woman who uses too much contraceptive cream?
A spermicidal maniac.

Why do women have legs?
So they don’t leave snail tracks on linoleum floors.

What do you call a hooker with no legs?
A nightcrawler.

What do you call a girl who’s just been run over by a car?
Patty.

Why do female parachutists always wear pantyhose?
So they won’t whistle.

How do you tell when a woman is wearing pantyhose?
If she farts, her ankles will swell.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

International pornography magnate and accused racketeer Reuben Sturman
is converting a landmark North Beach strip joint into a big peep-show
arcade, according to city records.

City building inspectors have allowed the Sturman firm to begin tearing
out the club’s interior, but they want assurances that two of the peep-show
booths will be wheelchair-accessible before they will issue a permit for
remodeling….

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