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“Bullshit.” Michael growled, sitting back down in his recliner. “You
owe it all to yourself. I just gave you a kick in the ass that got it
started. No excuse for letting yourself go to hell like that. None at all.”
He paused for a moment. “Do you still want to do this?”

She looked Harold up and down appraisingly. “Sure. Might be
instructive all around.”

Harold suddenly felt very alone and outnumbered. And a little worried.
“Um, somebody want to let me in on this?”

“Well,” she said, walking over to Harold, “Mikey and I had a little
talk last night, and I had this idea to, you know, prove just how far along
you had come in conquering your little problem.” She placed a hand on
Harold’s shoulder and traced it, feather light, down his shirtfront to his
belt buckle, which she hooked a finger into and tugged gently.

Harold swallowed hard, wondering just how far he had gotten over his
head here. He looked over at Michael. Michael, who had winced visibly at
“Mikey,” simply looked back and said nothing. No help there.

So he turned back to Diane. “Um, you mean here? Right now?”

“Sure.” she said, tugging on his buckle again. “Why not?”

Then she was rubbing up against him, her arms around his neck. Their
mouths met in a long, breathtaking kiss. Harold’s cock was as stiff as a
railroad spike, and it didn’t help that Diane was grinding her hips against
his. She broke the kiss and ran her tongue slowly along Harold’s jawline.
Planting little kisses along his neck, she slowly slid down his front,
maintaining maximum contact with her hands a body all the way. When she was
on her knees, her face level with his crotch, she began to work at his belt
buckle.

Oh, jeez, Harold thought, as he looked around frantically. Michael was
still watching, only his expression was intent. Harold got the distinct
feeling he was being *studied*.

Diane got Harold’s belt unbuckled, undid the snap, and pulled the
zipper down. A white bulge immediately poked through, as his erection
strained to be free of his shorts. His pants fell to his ankles with a
jingle of change as Diane placed a hand on his covered bulge, massaging it
gently while she looked up into his eyes. Harold already felt waves of
massive pleasure surge up from his groin. She put her mouth over the tip of
the bulge and exhaled gently. Harold clearly felt the heat of her breath on
his cock, and moaned imperceptibly.

Then she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and began to slowly pull
them down, uncovering his erection inch by agonizing inch. The pounding in
his cock was matched by the pounding in his head as he felt the elastic
drag down along the length of his penis.

Then he was free, his cock standing stiffly erect for all the world to
see. He glanced over at Michael, but Michael didn’t seem to be as
interested in the action as he was in Harold’s face. Then Harold forgot all
about him as Diane extended her tongue and ran it up along his cock.

Then, without warning, she plunged it into her mouth. All the way in.
While Harold wasn’t exceptionally large, he had still never met a woman who
could deep throat him before. The feeling was nothing short of amazing, as
the warm, slick wetness of her mouth enveloped his entire cock. The feeling
was intensely erotic, and Harold closed his eyes with a moan and rolled his
hips as he prepared to explode into her mouth.

A sudden, hard slap rocked his face. Shocked, he opened his eyes to
stare at Michael, who had bounded off his chair and stood just behind
Diane. “Harold,” he said quietly, “if you ejaculate in her mouth, she will
bite your penis off.”

At that moment, he felt a brief, sharp pain at the base of his cock as
she dug her teeth in very slightly, just as a hint, before resuming her
sucking with double the intensity.

Cold horror gripped Harold’s heart. He had been a fraction of a second
away from coming before Michael slapped him, but the slap had brought him
well back from the edge. Still, Diane’s oral talents were nothing short of
extraordinary and it would not be very long before he was back again. She
slid his cock in and out of her mouth while lightly caressing his balls
with one hand. The other hand slid between his legs and began to tease his
asshole with a finger. Already the pressure was beginning to build as
Harold frantically thought of a way to stop it.

In the midst of panic came a voice of calm. Your training, you idiot!
it said. That’s it! Harold replied. He began to repeat the mantras Michael
had taught him over and over in his mind. Slowly, the real world began to
fade into the distance as he entered a trance. The sensations beneath his
belly eased to the point where he could contemplate them or dismiss them
altogether. His heart slowed and his pupils dialated as his mind entered an
alpha state. Within an amazingly short time he became pure ego, floating in
a sea of peace and serenity.

After what seemed a brief yet endless time his hindbrain became aware
that something changed and he resurfaced to conciousness, gazing at
Michael’s gently smiling face. Harold looked down and saw that Diane had
stopped, and was sitting at his feet, massaging her jaw.

“Jeez.” she said, “Thirty fucking minutes. Nobody’s ever outlasted me
before.” She looked up at him ruefully. “Mister, you are nothing short of
amazing.”

Laughing, Michael clapped Harold hard on the back, almost making him
trip over his pants. He quickly pulled them up and refastened them. “Well,
my boy,” Michael said, “I guess I’d pronounce you cured, at least by your
own standards.”

Harold stood there, amazed. “I.. guess I really did it. I never
thought I would.”

“I had no doubt.” Michael said. “You have found one solution to your
problem. Not the best one, in my opinion, but a solution all the same. With
practice you shall find others, I’m sure.”

Harold helped Diane to her feet. He looked her in the eye and asked,
“Would you really have…?”

She just smiled and said nothing.

Harold gulped and looked over at Michael. “Would she have?”

Michael just shrugged. “Beats me. And I suppose I should know if
anybody would. After all, she’s my wife.”

Harold’s jaw dropped open. It stayed that way for a moment, until
Diane reached up and gently closed it. “You look cute when you’re shocked.”
she admitted. Then she gently tugged him towards the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, still flabberghasted.

“I think we can find a more suitable place to finish what we
started…”

“But… but…” he looked over at Michael helplessly.

Michael just shrugged again, palms up. “She does as she wishes. And I
wouldn’t have it any other way. You have passed an important hurdle today,
and a difficult one. You deserve a reward. Enjoy yourself. Both of you.”

Harold was silenced, at least long enough for Diane to drag him out of
there and to his well-earned reward.

And what a reward it was!

In order to prevent an armed revolt by the citizenry, the mayor did
the only thing he could. He promised to drop all charges against the
…End of the part5. 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..

“Enough talk,” she commanded and resumed her grip on his sheathed sword. She

pulled him to the entrance of her cunt, and he leaned down, placing his hands on

the bed at her sides. He shifted forward slightly and his head pressed its way

into her.

“Ahhhhh…I’d almost forgotten how good that feels.” “Oh, I hope you remember

that it gets better,” she hissed as she thrust her hips up to take him deeper

inside her. He reciprocated, and their groins met as they both exhaled loudly.

He began a slow, steady stroke, but was coaxed into a faster, harder rhythm.

“My! Don’t we heat up quickly?” he commented.

“Remember that it’s been a while for me as well – I’ve been saving myself for

you.”

“Tsk…tsk…tsk,” he replied in time with his thrusts,

“we’ll…have…to…remedy…that…won’t…we?” He moistened his thumb and

reached down to massage her rosebud. She sighed and pulled him down to her,

their mouths locking in an embrace as carnal as that of their lower bodies.

She stopped kissing and sucked his lower lip between her teeth, pressing harder

and harder as she approached her climax. He managed to pull free of her painful

grasp as she opened her mouth to gasp as the orgasm rolled over her. When she

relaxed, he stopped stroking, rolled them over with her on top, and started to

buck her body up as he resumed his activity.

She sat up on his hips, taking his lead and riding his prick. After a while, he

withdrew from her vaginal embrace and slid out from under her. He shifted around

behind her, raising her up onto her knees, and entered her pussy from the rear.

She braced her shoulders into the bed, and grasped the headboard as she met his

every thrust. She raised her head and asked, “You’re still not ready…to…”

“I guess it’s my gentlemanly restraint coming back to me!” He growled, voice

belying his words.

“Ahhhhhhh-but don’t you mean ‘NOT coming’?”

“Keep that up love, and I’ll leave right now!” Again contradictory to his

speech, his hand started to massage her mound, the pinkie finger running over her

clit.

“Oh, don’t leave! Keep doing that! Mmmmmmmm…”

“Whatever…you…ask…” he rejoined, his breath coming in gulps as his arousal

increased. Their gentle shifting accelerated into a heavy pace and they fucked

with abandon as they felt their passions rise to that pleasurable summit. A

sheen of perspiration glazed his face as he grabbed her hips in an attempt to

drive his cock even deeper into her cunt. Her hands gripped the rungs of the

antique headboard so tightly they squeaked as she shifted to fuck him back as

strongly as he was doing her. Her face and breasts flushed, and she stiffened

with rapture, her vaginal muscles clasping his cock and pushing him past the

brink. He continued to pump into her as he came, roaring with pleasure. As

their orgasms faded, they collapsed onto the bed. He rolled off of her back and

lay gasping his eyes squeezed shut. She shifted, sat up and took him in her

hand.

“Thank you, sweet prince,” she breathed and kissed the latex-clad head of his

cock. His entire body flinched, and his hand grasped her wrist. “*Please* don’t

do that – I’m really too sensitive right now, even the contact of the condom is

nearly painful.”

“Well, let’s get your little man out of his confining suit then,” she replied and

slipped the rubber from his manhood, making him shake on the bed. “There, all

done!” she exclaimed proudly as she lay down to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank

you – that was wonderful.”

“Oh, the pleasure wasn’t solely yours and I’m sure the credit doesn’t rest on my

shoulders alone, my darling beauty,” he responded and kissed her hair. He

appeared to remember something and shifted slightly toward the edge of the bed.

“Um, miss – I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” He raised his hand up

to shake hers palm-up as its mate disappeared off the bed. “Mikel Torsson, my

dear lady.” She grasped his hand and answered “Nadine Sanders,” and sighed with

…End of the part6. To be continued..

simultaneously perform fellatio on the receiver (assuming the

receiver is male, of course). Depth of penetration is shallow to

medium, but the angle of insertion is “unnatural,” and this makes

for unusual sensations. The penis contacts the anal/vaginal wall

or prostate, as with the previous position.

There are at least two varieties of the sitting position. (1)

The inserter may sit in a chair or on a sofa, while the receiver

lowers him/herself down on the inserter’s lap, facing away. (2) The

inserter may lie down flat on his/her back and the receiver sits

down on him/her, again facing away. This is another good beginner

position, since the receiver controls depth of penetration.

The “T position” has the receiver lying flat on his/her back with

knees drawn up and perhaps a pillow or two under the lower back

for elevation. The inserter lies down underneath the the bent legs

of the receiver, but at a right angle. There may be a significant

difference in comfort for the receiver, depending on which side

insertion occurs. Depth of penetration is medium.

The face-to-face standing position requires practice and considerable

agility on the part of both partners. The receiver raises a leg to

waist level, which the inserter grasps and holds. This pulls forward

the buttocks and anus of the receiver, and makes insertion from

the front and underneath just barely possible. Shallow penetration

at a strange angle is probably the best that can be hoped for,

but that this is even possible is rather remarkable.

——————————————————————-

Val was pretty well soured on both sexes. Sure, you could have a good

time with playmates, but they seemed always to end up claiming property

rights. Wanting to own you. Enough of that shit! He decided that he’d

settle for his own company for the foreseeable future.

It helped that he had started a new and better job. A well-paying and

non-demanding job. A job that involved his ass, as it happened. He was

an underwear model.

Back in their happier days when they were (literally!) “into” each other,

Warren had put him in touch with a friend who ran a modeling agency. So

now Val was making a couple of thou a week just for parading his compact

underwear-clad butt in front of photographers and advertising execs. The

lights were hot, but the work was easy and the ambiance classy. And he

did have all the required talents: the ability to freeze a pose for an

extended period of time, and even more important, a tight, muscular set

of buns.

It was too good to last, of course. As his modeling career took off

(they raved about his butt), he got more bookings than he could handle.

The fame disease befell him. They began to call him the “Ass Man,” and

his face became as familiar to the public as his backside. He couldn’t

go out shopping without being surrounded by screaming fans holding out

copies of his notorious bare-ass “Slutboy” centerfold spread for him to

autograph. He couldn’t go for a walk in his own neighborhood without women

(and sometimes men) sneaking up behind him and pinching his butt. His mail

overflowed with offers of marriage and indecent proposals in exquisite

detail from all five sexes. He had no privacy. The whole world seemed

to want a piece of him . . . a piece of ass. His ass was under siege.

Soon enough, Val got tired of peddling ass. He retired. With what was left

of his earnings, he bought a remote mountain cabin far up in the Canadian

Rockies. With no phone or electricity, he isolated himself completely

from civilization. His only companions were a neurotic Persian cat and

a custom-made set of solar-powered dildoes.

——————————————————————-

THE BOOK OF ASSES

Part V

Preventive Maintenance

The care and feeding of one’s ass has a major effect on the health,

and consequently pleasure capacity of that wondrous organ.

A healthy and balanced diet promotes healthy bowel habits and

maintains the vigor of the large intestine and the muscle tone of

the sphincter. Avoid animal fats, which can lead to rectal cancer

and other debilitating ailments. Consume generous portions of

vegetables and foods containing fiber and “roughage” and you will

be amply rewarded by regular and satisfying bowel movements.

Regular exercise, especially walking, bicycling, and swimming,

contributes to a healthy state of the digestive system and helps

shape and tone the large muscles of the posterior. Kegel-type

exercises of the anal sphincter ring maintain the flexibility and

strength of that all-important gateway to ecstasy.

Cleanliness keeps the anus healthy. Clean thoroughly after each

bowel movement, and as necessary apply salve or ointment to treat

irritation and maintain the suppleness and pleasing appearance of

that entry to the chamber of delights.

Enemas can be a useful adjunct to anal pleasure. Those particularly

sensitive to fecal residue and odors may find it helpful to cleanse

the interior of the colon with a saline enema prior to anal play. Of

course, exercise due caution in administering enemas, both to one’s

self and to a partner.

——————————————————————-

As cut off from the world as Val was, a leading New York publishing house

had somehow gotten wind of his writings and tracked him down. Having

jeeped in over potholed dirt roads and iced-up mountain passes,

the publishing executive breathlessly explained that there was a

multi-million-dollar advance waiting if he would only sign a contract for

“The Book of Asses.” A vast audience was panting for alternate sexuality

and “orifice liberation” literature. Now if Val would just sign on the

dotted line . . .

He was mightily pissed at having his privacy invaded. “How the fuck did

you find me, and what makes you think I need your filthy luchre anyhow?”

The executive smiled . . . and dropped her pants. She had a perfect ass

. . . and wasn’t that a wicked-looking dildo harness girding her loins?

“After all, we *do* know your weaknesses, Val.”

Then there was the added bonus of being able to reach around and with

a massaging hand make Warren’s hard dick twitch and spasm and spurt

. . . and see and feel Warren’s stretched-open asshole involuntarily

contract and clench around the dick deeply embedded within it. It seemed

that ass-fucking a man had its peculiar attractions.

The next time they met, Warren wanted to be on top. The thought had

already occurred to Val, but . . .

——————————————————————–

The one thing men fear most is being penetrated. Being fucked in the

ass. It implies loss of manhood, loss of control, degradation. It’s

the ultimate taboo. Yet, anything forbidden, especially *that*

forbidden has a powerful attraction.

——————————————————————–

. . . Yes, Val been more than a little bit curious about how it would feel

to take a dick into his own ass . . . to be the one fucked. He was getting

hot and horny just thinking about it. And Warren somehow knew that. He

gave Val a confident smile and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was a race

between the two of them to see who could get out of his clothes first.

It went surprisingly well. Warren was a patient and skilled lover and he

understood the value of lube.

The initial entry was a bit of a shock. Val felt himself *stretching*

down there, felt his hole enlarging, felt himself opening and being

pulled apart by the hard flesh pressing into his tunnel. He ached with

the sheer rapture of it and a long drawn-out sigh escaped his lips.

“Are you all right?” Warren asked.

“What you’re doing to me — it’s tearing me apart, but it feels so good

and I don’t know what’s happening . . . ”

“Just think of it as a transformative experience,” Warren suggested.

“Let your feminine side express itself.”

Looking at the full-length wardrobe mirror, Val watched two naked male

bodies on their hands and knees. It was bizarre seeing Warren’s bare ass

bouncing back and forth. The glimses of fleshy shaft sliding in and out

of his own ass brought on flashbacks of all the times he had been on

the giving end. It was perverted. Dirty. Unnatural. Thinking that made

him even hornier. His dick was hard.

The liquid friction of the dick pistoning in and out of him and the

sensation of fullness rippling up and down his gut felt . . . well,

good. No, better than good. Intensely good. Head-exploding good. His own

hard dick was throbbing in the rhythm of what was going on inside his

ass. Each time Warren bottomed out in him, Val sensed his guts vibrate

with a rumbling surge of power. After a few minutes of that, he felt

pressure building up within him and . . . and . . . Warren was holding

steady at maximum depth and reaching around to massage his dick with a

greased-up hand. Val pulsed and released his liquid between Warren’s

fingers, while his ass throbbed and clenched around Warren’s dick. He

gasped and strange geometric patterns flashed behind his eyeballs.

“So, you liked it?”

“It was okay,” Val managed to croak. He felt a pleasant ache in his rectum

as he used a hand towel to wipe up the wetness dribbling out of him. What

had happened to him, really? Had he lost an essential part of himself –

his manhood, or had he gained something? What had he become?

———————————————————————–

A quaint term for orgasm is “the little death.” The person experiencing

it allegedly dies, and is reborn changed in some essential way. So

it is with a man sodomized for the first time. He has overstepped a

barrier, and this has released an enormous charge of psychic power. For

better or worse, he has transformed into a new and different person.

———————————————————————–

“I do believe you’re a natural,” Warren was saying. ” A natural bottom.

…End of the part3. To be continued..

anticipated that I would be a tall man, for my father, at 6′ 2″, was the runt

of his family. Couple that with my mom’s genes and it seemed reasonable

that I’d be tall. It was not to be. At eighteen, we were pretty much the

same height. I knew just where the tips of her breasts hit my chest.

I should mention that my mother had very attractive breasts, a C-

cup with prominent, up-tilted nipples that were often evident despite her

clothes. Sometime later I was to learn that she was one of those women

who were blessed with exceptionally firm, youthful breasts, that never lost

much of their firmness. She is one of those rare females that will have

youthful breasts into her later years. Like intelligence, beauty is given to us

as an accident of birth, no more than a fortuitous role of the genetic dice.

It’s comforting to be part of a line of good stock I was told, but I hadn’t

thought of it in this arena of sexual attractiveness.

While my mother’s figure was model-attractive, it was her facial

features that were eye catching. She had a straight, almost aristocratic

nose and a wide, full mouth. Her prominent cheek bones set off her

unusually attractive eyes. They were hard to describe, her eyes. She had

high, full, unaltered eye brows, that were dark in color in contrast to her

natural auburn hair. But it was the eyes themselves that caught your

attention, for they were a light green-blue with an exotic cast. At times I

thought she might have some Asian blood, but I never got a hint of it in the

rest of her family. In any case, they were striking, often dark and brooding

and at times almost electric. Without altering her facial expression, her

eyes could show humor or joy and, at times, anger. I often wondered what

she looked like when sexually aroused.

But I digress. Back to the awakening of my sexual awareness.

I didn’t set out to seduce my mother, despite the rich and lurid

fantasies I entertained. I held them as deeply secret and guarded as one

would any shameful, licentious desire. The thought was given no more

than masturbatory acknowledgment, as frequent as that was. Still, the gap

between our thoughts and our actions remains hidden from our conscious

awareness by the strength of our denial. So while I might have denied a

plan to seduce her, my actions would have argued differently. I set out to

be her friend and her confidant, to reduce if not break down the

conventional barriers between us. This was largely an unacknowledged

plan of mine. I don’t recall thinking anything more detailed than vague

objectives of getting closer to her.

Over time, I became more open with her about my self. I asked her

opinions of things, including girls and dating and later, sexual things. I

worked at being her emotional intimate. It wasn’t difficult, for she was at

heart an emotionally trusting and open women who, it turned out, was

largely unencumbered by repressive standards. To my surprise, we

gradually became good friends. That I would bond so closely with my

mother was not surprising, given my nature and that fact that my father

was largely an absent force in my life.

I slowly became less conventional in my own modesty. It was not

at all unusual for me to chat with my mother wearing no more than my

Calvin Kleins. I was aware that she studiously avoided looking at my body

when I was so briefly dressed, but she never reprimanded me for

inappropriate attire.

———————————————————————

I became aware that when my dad was away, she usually left her

bedroom door open. I took that as an invitation and often walked in on her

to “chat.” Not infrequently, I’d catch her in her bra and panties. She’d

say, “Whoops,” and slip on a robe, loosely tied. Once, as I walked into her

room, she was walking out of her large closet wearing only an unbelted

robe that swung open as she moved. From a moment only, I saw her nude

body. It was no more than a flash that left nothing more than an after-

image. It was that after-image that I examined so repeatedly. I saw firm,

upthrust breasts, and a flash of dense pubic hair at the base of a flat

abdomen . . . and then she pulled the robe closed without comment.

I’d gone in to ask her if she’d like to play some tennis and for a

moment was tongue tied, standing there, staring at her.

…End of the part4. 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..

years before it – are wrapped in some soft-focus, cotton-candy memory,

but that day snaps into sharp focus with a clarity that is the result of

moments of great impact long remembered. For all those years, my mother

was my Mom. Then one day she became a woman. More importantly, she

suddenly became a sexy woman. An extremely desirable woman.

I didn’t – that day at any rate – suddenly become a profligate. It

was to take a certain determinism and some considerable time before I

might aspire to that description. No, the severest criticism one could bring

to bear back then might be that I was a horny kid, one who appeared to be

a touch more aware than his peers and maybe too curious for his own

good.

I was home alone with my mother and my father was away. That

was the case a good bit of the time it seemed. I had a father, but we didn’t

know each other very well. On some level, I’d come to accept his absence,

for that’s the way it was. I suspect my mother, who didn’t complain, was

experiencing less acceptance.

I’d been coerced into wearing a sport jacket that day – in place of

my usual, more casual attire – and attending some ho-hum, boring cocktail

party at the university president’s home. I don’t recall the strong-arm

tactics that brought me to bay, but I do recall the suffering. It seemed like

endless hours of mindless chatter where everyone but me got to have

champaign or white wine. Oh, it wasn’t forbidden, but my mother had

made it clear that she was going to have “some wine” and I was the

designated driver. We both knew that champaign had more effect on my

mother than it appeared at first glance. If she didn’t try to walk, or drive,

she did quite well, at least at holding a conversation. However, those who

knew her well were aware of a characteristic scattered thought process, a

type of clang association which, when coupled with an alcoholic gaiety,

turned her into a different woman. Almost daring and perhaps borderline

loose.

Anyway, we’d returned home in the late afternoon from that well-

supplied party and we’d both fallen into facing couches in our large living

room, each of us with a welcome sigh as we put our feet up. That’s when

it happened. I don’t recall that anything had occurred to set me up for this;

it just came out of nowhere. Blind sided as it were. Out of nowhere, this

sexy woman appeared!

The late afternoon sun shone toward my mother while I sat

opposite her in deeper shadow. She’d drawn up her knees to push her

pumps off and suddenly I was looking directly up her dress at a well-lit and

unobstructed view of my mother’s thighs all the way to her undergarments.

It was no flash, for she’d placed both stockinged feet on the coffee table,

knees still up and fallen back to the cushions, head up and eyes closed with

her skirt around her mid thighs in the front and completely dropped away in

the rear.

“Oh, that feels so good.” she exclaimed, wriggling her stocking-

clad toes. “Christ, I wish I could meet someone interesting at those

parties, someone with some life in them!”

It was the type of comment that needed no reply. I suspect that I

couldn’t have replied coherently in any case, for my attention was riveted

on the view under her dress.

Even though I’d lived with this woman all my life, I suppose I had

had no interest and no awareness of her as a *woman* and even less for

her clothes. After all, she was my mother for crying out loud. So, it was

with some surprise that I realized for the very first time that she wore

stockings and garters and not what I thought all women wore, pantyhose.

I was fascinated with the stretch of her hose by the garters running down

each thigh. But her panties held even greater fascination for me.

I don’t think that I’d given it any previous thought, but had I been

grilled on what type of underwear my mother wore, I might have guessed

something white, conservative, and certainly thick. Clearly not what she

had on. Illuminated by the long rays of the afternoon sun, the pale yellow

of her panties, pooched out by a thick cushion of pubic hair faintly seen

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Six or seven months later towards the end of fall and the beginning
of winter, I was driving on the freeway back to my apartment when I
heard a car beeping it’s horn in the lane to my right. I turned to
look only to see Kim’s smiling face looking back at me from her new
Sunbird (working for an auto company has some advantages). She waved
at me and I smiled and waved back figuring that it would be it would
be impolite to flip her the bird and mouth the phrase “Eat shit and
die bitch!”. About fifteen minutes or so after I arrived back at my
apartment the phone rang and I answered it expecting it to be for one
of my four roommates (while Kim had gone and gotten a job that paid
big bucks, I went to grad school. Big mistake). When I picked it up I
heard that oh so familiar voice, Kim.

“Hi, Dave. When I saw you on the freeway I realized that I hadn’t seen
you in a while so I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, not too bad, how about you?”

…..

This mundane sort of drivel went on for a few minutes while I was
tried to figure out what the point of all this was. Eventually the
point became that she “kinda” missed me and would I like to go out
again. Being that I was bored and had no better prospects for that
coming Saturday I said “sure thing”, and told her I would pick her up
at 7:00 and we could go out for a nice dinner. Saturday came and that
afternoon I got another phone call from Kim.

“Would it be all right if we went to my friend’s house instead of
dinner? I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“No problem.” (I was way too nice in those days).

Now I was starting to get some bad feelings about this. As they
say, it was deja vu all over again. We went to the party and the only
thing interesting that came out of it was that when I was talking to
some of Kim’s friends from college (since Kim had left me to myself
most of the night), I found out that she had seen them about as much
as she saw me. She had been a very bad girl. So far the night was a
total waste so I was hoping I could salvage something from it later on
when we got back to her apartment (her roommate was gone so I didn’t
have to worry about any interruptions). When we arrived, I turned the
lights down low, put the stereo on an appropriate station and uncorked
a bottle of wine I had brought for just this sort of situation. She
poured a couple of glasses and we sat down on the couch for what I
hoped would be some serious passion. Soon my tongue was intertwined
with hers and my fingers were doing a nimble dance across her right
breast.

“Ahh,” I thought, “just like old times”.

I managed to get her shirt untucked and started slowly sliding my
hand up the front when I felt her hand gently push mine away.

“Arrrrrrgh,” I screamed to myself, “just like old times.”

I could see that this was going nowhere fast and decided to bail
out while I still had my sanity. The whole night was a waste and now I
was pissed. I mean, I could have stayed home and watched the WWF
championship grudge match or something equally culturally
enlightening. Anything would have would have been more fun than this.

“My, look at the time. I think I better get going.”

“Wait, why are you leaving?”

“You haven’t changed at all and it will be just as much of a waste
of my time to go out with you now as it was the last time.”

She looked slightly puzzled.

“How should I change?”

With that statement I felt my evil twin stir inside me. I really
couldn’t have cared less if I ever saw this bitch again so there was
no point in being polite about it.

“You can start by taking off your shirt.”

“What!?!?!”

“Take off your shirt or I’m ‘otta here.”

“No! What do you think I am?”

“An anal retentive little bitch. But that’s beside the point. See
ya. Have a nice life.”

By that time I had my shoes tied and I headed for the door.

“Wait.”

I turned. Kim just stood there looking nervous and more that a bit
scared. I stood there, looked at her for a few seconds then raised my
eyebrows and said,

“Well?”

Slowly, she raised her had to the top button of her blouse and
unbuttoning it with exquisite slowness. She did it that way because
her hands were trembling and she was unsure of what she was doing, but
it looked like a classic strip tease. My evil twin stirred again along
with my dick (they are closely related). Now things were looking up.
Maybe this evening wouldn’t be a waste after all. She finished undoing
all the buttons and slipped the blouse off her shoulders. Then she
just stood there, arms at her side holding the blouse in one hand. She
had on a plain white bra (I decided I could work on her undergarment
fashion sense later. Right now we had to get a few things straight
between us.) and that along with the tight blue jeans she was wearing
and her short haircut, she looked like she belonged in a Sears catalog
(like I said, I could work on her fashion sense later). I smiled.

“Now the bra.”

She obeyed without question, reaching behind her back to unhook it
and sliding it off over her arms and dropping it to the floor. Her
breasts were magnificent. Firm and high, a little larger that a
grapefruit with huge nipples about the size of pencil erasers. By now
I had a huge shit-eating grin on my face and the beginnings of a huge
hardon. I sat down on the couch so I could admire the view and she
asked,

“Is this what you wanted?”

She had regained some of her composure now but that vanished quickly
when I said,

“Yes, but we’re not done yet.”

“I’m not taking off any more.”

…End of the part1. To be continued..

At the time of this story my Dena was 29 years old, about 5′ 5″
with stylish blond hair. She’s trim and without doubt her face and
ass are her best assets. She is a former state beauty pageant
winner and her features are smooth and defined, like her
personality. She’s a knock out in a bikini and enjoys the attention
she gets form other men.

We had heard of men who encourage and enjoy watching their spouse
have sex with other men. We were fascinated and aroused by reading
such stories in magazines about swinging and mate sharing and I
often fantasized about seeing my wife screw another man. Dena and
I had talked about a threesome but I never really thought it would
happen. That was until four years ago.

Shortly after accepting a new sales position that required
extensive travel I began to suspect Dena of having an affair. The
idea of her falling in love with another man didn’t enter into my
thoughts but I was convinced that she was seeing someone. I
secretly hoped my suspicions were true and often made excuses that
I had to stay out of town overnight when it wasn’t really required.

Many times I would lay awake fantasizing about Dena with another
man as I lay alone in my motel room. I imagined her rushing off to
meet her lover as soon as our nightly phone conversation ended. On
several occasions I waited ten or fifteen minutes and called home
again only to hear up to five minutes of unanswered ringing. I
would do this every half hour or so until around one or two in the
morning she would answer the phone. I always hung up without saying
anything. I never told Dena that I had called back and she never
said anything about going out anywhere.

This behavior continued for about two or three weeks and just when
I had made plans to try and catch her she started answering each
time I called home. Dena began to complain that someone was calling
and hanging up the phone when she answered so I waited much longer
between calls.

I became disappointed because now it seemed that my suspicions were
unfounded or the affair had ended. I began fantasizing about ways
of having her seduced when another set of events began occurring.

I was at our local club having a drink at the bar when a neighbor
I knew only slightly came in and took the stool next to mine. Our
conversation was casual but he asked a question that caused me to
rethink my doubts about Dena and a possible affair.

During our conversation our neighbor asked how I liked my new car.
At first I thought he was talking about my new company car which is
a Buick. I told him that I really liked the car and that I was very
satisfied with the gas milage. It wasn’t until he said how he too
would like to have such a car but that he certainly couldn’t afford
anything so expensive. I knew a Buick was well within his means so
he A) Had me confused with someone else. Or B) Someone driving an
expensive automobile was visiting my house.

Without acting surprised I told my neighbor that I had gotten a
very good deal and that it really hadn’t cost as much as he might
think. This seemed to satisfy him and our conversation moved to
other subjects, although I’m not sure what we talked about because
I was thinking about the strange automobile parking in my drive. I
revived my plans to see if Dena was having an affair.

The following Monday I told Dena that my duties would require me to
be out of town until Friday night. As always she seemed
disappointed but accepted that it had to be. I on the other hand
imagined that she was already preparing to invite her lover into
our bed.

I drove to a local hotel and checked in for four nights. I parked
my car in the hotel’s indoor lot so it couldn’t be easily seen. I
then called Avis and rented a completely different car making sure
it was of a completely different color.

I made the necessary business phone calls from my hotel room but
remained in the room and out of view until darkness. Around 7pm I
called home as I had always done when away. After my brief
conversation with Dena I called room service for dinner and watched
TV. By 9pm I had waited as long as I could.

Driving the rental car past my house I was mildly disappointed to
see only the normal house lights and only Dena’s car in our drive.
I drove around town until I made another pass by our house around
9:30pm. Even more disappointment when I saw only Dena’s car in our
drive. I continued to drive around until I made a third pass by the
house around 9:45pm. Nothing had changed and I was now really
disappointed. I wanted to catch my wife with another man but it
seemed it wouldn’t happen tonight.

I had driven about half way down one of the two main entrance roads
leading to our subdivision when a 530 Mersadies sports car passed
going in the direction of my house. I quickly took the next turn
and turned my car around. The Mersadies tail lights were still
visible and about a quarter of a mile ahead. I closed the distance
between us slightly but made sure to remain well back.

My heart was racing and I was wondering. Was this the car my
neighbor had been talking about? The Merrsadies made a left turn
onto the street our house was on. This had to be the car that had
been parking in my drive I thought. “Please be the car.” I said
aloud to myself. I passed the street leading to my house knowing
that I could see our drive clearly only a few hundred yards ahead.

As I slowed and looked in the direction of my house I saw the
Mersadies head lights as it pulled into my drive. I almost shouted
knowing this had to be my wife’s lover. I turned my car into the
street that ran behind our house. Knowing the house directly behind
ours was vacant I pulled into the drive and killed the lights.

I waited a few minutes then got out of the rental and keeping to
the shadows I slowly jogged into my back yard. Remaining in the
shadows I approached the side of my house and made my way to the
den window. I knew there was little chance that I would be seen but
I had worn dark clothing and was being a quite as possible as I
looked into the window.

There on my sofa sat a man of about 45 years I had never seen. He
was certainly well dressed and clean looking. “So this was Dena’s
lover and I approve.” I thought to myself. Then found myself
wondering how large his cock was and did Dena give this man head as
she had often done for me. If she did give him head did she allow
him to cum in her mouth or did they only fuck straight? Did they
use protection? I hoped they didn’t. For some reason I hoped he
would cum inside Dena.

Dena entered the den carrying drinks. She handed her friend a glass
and sat down beside him. Before taking a drink both my wife and her
friend placed their drinks on the sofa table and locked themselves
in a very passionate embrace. As the kissed I noticed this man was
unbuttoning Dena’s blouse. Dena’s hand was on his crotch and I knew
she was massaging his cock and balls. “I hope he’s hung like a
horse.” I thought.

My own cock was rock hard as I watched the couple before me undress
each other. When the gentleman stood Dena unbuckled his belt. She
unzipped his trousers and tugged them down. As this man stood
before my wife his trousers fell around his ankles as Dena pulled
his jockey shorts down.

I couldn’t see the man’s cock because he was quarter turned away
from me but I could clearly see Dena had his cock in her mouth.
Dena’s hands were slowly stroking this man’s ass and upper legs as
she took him into her mouth. This continued for about a minute when
Dena’s lover turned to sit down on the sofa.

Dena released her mouth hold on his cock and as the man sat down
she got on her knees before him. Clearly she planned to continue
sucking his cock. It was at this time that I saw the man’s cock for
the first time. It was much larger than my seven and one half
inches. I would guess at least 10 or 11 inches in length and very
thick. It was so thick that the head of his cock seemed small.
Almost as if it belonged to a 7 inch cock but was attached to this
massive sausage.

Dena took this stranger’s cock in both hands and began jacking it
as she took as much as she could in her mouth. To me Dena looked
beautiful as she knelt before the man sucking his monster tool. I
was slowly massaging my own cock through my trousers as I hoped
they would continue until he shot his load in Dena’s mouth.

Within a few minutes I had my wish. The man laid his head back and
closed his eyes. I knew he was about to cum and so did Dena. She
was jacking his cock faster now and sucking him as deep as she
could. The man stiffened and Dena slowed her hand and head motion.
I knew he was shooting his load into my wife’s mouth and she
appeared to love it. “Please swallow his cum.” I was thinking as I
shot my own load into my shorts.

Dena did as I had hoped because when the man had finished climaxing
she got up to sit beside him. She said something to him and they
both laughed and took a sip of their drinks. There was no trace of
cum on Dena’s face so I knew she had done as I had hoped and had
swallowed his load. I hoped his cum had been thick and plentiful
but I had no way of knowing.

Dena and her lover sat on the sofa talking, kissing and fondling
each other until I saw the man’s cock begin to come alive again.
Dena bent over a sucked his cock until it was fully erect again
then she stood up. Although her blouse and bra had been removed
earlier she now let her skirt fall to the floor and removed her
bikini panties.

The man pulled my wife to him and began to eat her pussy as she
stood wide legged before him. I sure he couldn’t get to her pussy
very well and he said something to her. Dena laid back on the sofa
and with one foot on the floor and one on the back of the sofa she
offered herself to her lover.

I watched as the man began to eat my wife and slowly jack his own
cock. Since my cock had remained hard the entire time I unzipped my
trousers, now very wet from the load I had shot earlier. Taking my
cock out I began to jack off as I watched the scene before me.

The man continued to eat Dena pussy until I could tell she was
about to cum. He then made his way on top of her and I could
clearly see his cock as it entered Dena’s now very wet pussy. At
first he pushed only the head and perhaps two inches in. Dena’s ass
was moving up to him, urging him deeper into her. The man was
fucking her with only a few inches of his cock when he suddenly
plunged his entire cock into my wife. His balls, again much larger
than mine, slapped against Dena’s ass as he began to fuck her
harder.

Even above the air-conditioning and through closed windows I could
hear Dena. “Oh God! Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God Fuck
me!” I felt my balls tighten and my own cum began to shoot as I
watched the couple before me. It was truly beautiful watching my
wife enjoy being power fucked by this stranger. I wanted them to
continue but the man’s body stiffened and he pushed himself as deep
as he could into Dena. I knew he was depositing another load in
places much deeper that I ever had.

It was clear that Dena was enjoying being fucked by this man
because she was having one orgasism after the other. I saw their
combined juices, thick and white, on the shaft of the man’s cock as
he fucked in-an-out. It was slowly running out of Dena’s pussy and
down her ass. So that’s what those stains were on the sofa. I
continued to jack myself as the lovers continued to fuck each other
on the sofa.

I must have jacked myself as they fucked for five minutes or more
when the man’s body stiffened again. Plunging himself deep into
Dena’s pussy he began to shoot another hot load of his semen. I too
shot another load and gave a silent prayer of thanks for allowing
me to witness my wife being so thoroughly fucked.

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!

After I gathered myself together, I looked at Jennifer straight
in the eyes. Not knowing what to say or how to start, I sat up towards
her, and faced her CUM dripping face. I could feel her warm breath upon
my lips, and I could smell the stale CUM. I reached up my right hand
gently pushing her black-reddish messy hair back away from her face.
Jennifer is a beautiful girl. At 19, she has a body that any man
would kill for. She had a smile that would melt your heart and remind
you of an innocent tropical girl. Her tropical tan and smoldering exotic
eyes hints a beauty worth the sacrifice to the gods of the natives.
She had a mysterious way about her. The innocent image she posessed
hides another woman. Behind the innocent fascade is a hungry passion of
lust. She is a girl of few words, and rarely did she spoke to me. She
is friendly, yet aloof. When I do get the chance to talk to her, she
always ends our conversation quickly, yet sweetly. She was never rude
to me, and on occasion caught her glaring at me sweetly. I ruled out
the possibility that there would be something between us. She was my
best friend’s girl…I wanted her. I really did.
“Jennifer…why?” I whispered to her, my throught harsh and dry
from our night of ecstacy. “Shhhh…” she whispered, placing her finger
on my lips. “I…did it for you…”. She looked at me in the eyes, she
had that look of hidden pain covere by a faint smile. I went closer
and partly opened my mouth and kissed her on the lips. Her tongue
probed in my mouth and mine into hers. I could still taste my fresh CUM
in her mouth. I did not care. It was our wine of love. We kissed passionately and
finally she pushed me back and slowly stood up from my bed. I sat there
and watched her leave. She looked back a last time before exiting my
room. From the faint light I could admire her shapely body. Her buttocks
firm, her breasts rounded and tender.
I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t able to go
back to sleep. I pondered the thought of her with me. I wanted her back
in my room. The desire was so strong that I was angry. I was screaming
inside figuring out what to do. Why have I done this to my best friend?
Should I tell him? I would loose her. I would loose my friend. *FUCK*
*I need her*
The following days tortured me. I was moody and snapped at almost
everyone. I was irritable. I couldn’t concentrate in class. I was supposed
to study for a midterm, but my mind kept creeping back to that night
with Jennifer. I see her with my buddy almost everytime, but I try not
to act obvious. But I guess, I had a tougher time when she is around with
my best friend. I know my friend well, and he knows me well, I had a
feeling he knows what’s up with me.
Joe is a cool guy. He’s about a year older than me. We’ve been friends
for about 3 years now since I met him freshman year. He’s a good looking
Chinese-American in a rough sort of way, and women usually like
him for his body. As for myself, for a Filipino I was lucky for an
athletic physique mixed with a boyish look of innocence which my Chinese
heritage offered. My witty remarks and quick reactions, combined with
Joe’s qualities make our team a trap for worthy women. We like each
other’s company and somehow our relationship evolved into an open,
trusting, and loyal friendship. I put great importance in our
…End of the part1. To be continued..

“Unh-uh. Not so fast babe. Remember those contracts you signed? You want me
to sue your ass off? Looks to me like you don’t even have enough money for
a lawyer.”

Damn! He tricked you. It’s not fair! But you don’t know what to do. He’s
right, you can’t afford lunch, much less a lawyer. So you decide there’s
nothing you really can do. You don’t want to go to jail.

“Ok. What do I have to do to get them back?”

“Just come here and let me be nice to you,” he says, grinning.

You walk over to him, and he again puts his arms around your waist. Only
this time, his hands fall on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You just stand
there. He tells you if you aren’t going to be happy about it, it’s not
worth doing, and he’ll just go call the lawyers. So you decide that as long
as you are going to have to do it, you might as well enjoy it.

He holds you tight, and starts kissing you on the mouth, putting his tongue
in between your teeth. You push back, and swirl yours against him. You feel
him pressing his hardening cock against your skirt, rubbing up and down
against your pubic bone.

He takes your hand and puts it on his cock, through his pants. It feels
big, but you don’t let him know you think so. You’ll play along, but you
aren’t going to give him the idea he’s the best. You figure the best way to
get back at him is to pretend you are the greatest lover in the world, and
he is merely a little boy trying to live in a man’s body. You’ll show him
he’s just a kid.

He puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to the floor. After
pushing his jacket out of the way, you unzip his fly, reach in, and pull
out his cock. No underwear, you notice. It’s not huge, but it’s not too
small either. He tells you to be nice to it, and kiss it. Instead, you open
your mouth and shove it way inside. It’s still only partially hard, so it
slides all the way in with no problem. You don’t even gag a little. You
feel the head hitting where your tonsils used to be, and it feels pretty
good. You start to suck on him, flexing your throat muscles around his
shaft, squeezing the length of him. He moans, and pushes his hips against
your face.

After sucking him to his full length, you slip his cock from your mouth,
taking a long time to get it all the way out. He picks you up and drops you
unceremoniously on the couch, making your skirt rise up above your pussy.

He comes over and peels your underwear off (you are wearing no stockings.
Too hot), and unzips the skirt. He takes it off, and throws it behind him.
Then he drops his head between your legs, and starts nibbling on your inner
thighs. Your clit starts to tingle, but you show no sign. He licks up and
down the inside of both thighs before kissing your pussy lips ever so
gently. You feel your clit growing. Oh fuck, you decide. Might as well
enjoy it. So your open your legs wide, and reach down to hold your cunt
open. He takes the the opportunity and delves his tongue deep into your
pussy, licking at the sweet, semi-sticky juices already forming there. Your
start to rub your clit as he mouth fucks your cunt. It has grown to it’s
3/4 inch full length by now, and he moves your hands to suck it. He licks
around it, across it, and rubs his teeth against it. Ooh, it feels good.
It’s been a LONG time since anyone ate you. You squeeze your thighs against
his head, and pull him in tighter. He goes back to licking your slit, and
then pushes a finger into you. You feel it squirming around inside you, and
you start pressing your hips against it. He turns around and gets on top of
you, putting his cock back into your mouth. So THIS is a 69, you think.
Never having done it before, you decide you need to explore more. You start
taking long strokes on his cock, sucking it all the way in, drawing it out
to the head, and then shoving it in again. He is still licking your clit.

He moves and take his hand out of your pussy and replaces it with his
tongue. Then you feel a pressure against your ass. Oh no! He’s not going to
do that, is he? You squeeze your ass, so he can’t get in. He pushes harder
and tells you to relax. Eventually you do, and you feel his finger slip
into your ass. At the same time he pushes his tongue into you as far as he
can get it, and you can feel his finger against his tongue, barely
separated by your pussy walls. You suck him harder, start moving his hips
up and down faster, and feel his balls tighten. You start bucking your hips
against his mouth and hands, and he moans.

He starts shooting his cum into you, and that sets you off, making you come
all over his tongue. You drink him down, swallowing the sweetness of his
cum. Drinking it all in, you don’t miss a drop. You relax as your a orgasm
subsides and brings you back to Earth.

After getting off of you, he asks if you still want your contract back. You
decide “No. I think I’ll try this line of work for awhile. When’s my first
job?”

Simple: Contributing to the delinquency of a miner !!!

[Father Goose #42]

A young woman got married a few years back. Her husband was a service
respresentative for a well-known computer firm, and was kept out of the house
a great deal by equipment that kept breaking, his beeper, and his boss.
About a year ago, his brother got back from an expedition in central
Australia, collecting sand specimens for his dissertation in comparative
soil mechanics. He had no where else to stay and no money, so he moved in
with the happy couple. That’s when the trouble began.

This brother really liked baked ham. But he always remembered the way his
father died, choking on a clove bud which had decorated the top of the
ham. If there were just a few cloves in the ham, he wouldn’t say anything.
But if there were more than three, he would get up and storm out of the
room.

One day the brother came home late from work. He had been making repairs
to his triaxial test machine, and boy was he hungry! The problem was that
the baked ham had four cloves, and (because he was late) it was too well done.

Our intrepid service representative got home later that night, and found his
wife making airline reservations to go home to her mother in East Snapbeckon.
“What are you making reservations for?” He asked.

“I’m booking over that four-clove leaver, though I’ve overcooked before!”

[Father Goose #43]

This frog walks into a bank to get a loan. He steps up to the
counter and asks for an application from the clerk, Patty Wack.
“Hi, I’d like to fill out an application for a loan”, said
the frog. Patty Wack replied, “Do you have any collateral for
this loan; something to stand against your loan.” The frog
replied, “All I have is this statue of a unicorn.” “Well,
I don’t know,” said Patty Wack, “I’ll have to ask the manager about
this.” Patty Wack goes to see the bank manager. The bank manager
looks at the statue and replies:
“Knick Knack, Patty Wack. Give the frog a loan.”

[Father Goose #44]

A group of guys used to get together once a week to play poker. Well, one of
the guys died; but his ghost continued to join in the poker games as before.
On one of these evenings, the ghost got five beautiful hearts in his very first
hand, and he bet his stack.

Unfortunately, one of the flesh-and-blood players had a full house and raked in
the pot — another case where the spirit was willing but the flush was weak.

[Father Goose #45]

It seems there were two frogs sitting on a lilly pad, when all
of a sudden, a fly came along. One frog put out his tongue, ate the
fly, and started laughing histerically. Soon the other frog joined
in the laughter.
Later in the day, the other frog ate a fly and the two frogs
burst out in laughter. As time went on, the frogs enjoyed the flies so
much that the sight of a fly would cause them to double up with pleasure
(if it’s possible for frogs to double up!). But of course, the most
pleasure came when the fly was actually eaten.
A third frog hopped up to the first two and asked what
was so funny. The first frog answered “Time.” “Huh?” asked the third frog.
The second frog exlained:
“Time’s fun when your having flies”

[Father Goose #46]

Back in the days of the old west, somewhere in Kansas, there lived a
rancher named Fred Holt.

One day Fred found himself in need of supplies so he headed off to town
to restock. After picking up all he needed, Fred decided to stop off at
the local saloon for a warm one (no refrigerators in the old west).

As he was standing there quietly drinking his beer, who should
approach but his neighbor Sam Leed. Now Sam was in a vile mood concerning
a certain fence that Fred had recently erected. Sam felt that open range
should remain open and told Fred this in no uncertain terms. A violent
argument ensued, ending only when the two parties were pulled off of each
other and escorted out of town.

Fred went on home and settled in for the night, but about midnight was
suddenly awakened by a commotion. He looked out and discovered that his
house was on fire. Quickly he gathered his family and managed to get them
all to safety. The house was a total loss, however. Fred hitched up his
wagon and headed off to town. When he told the people what had happened,
they were outraged. There was law coming into Kansas and this wasn’t
tolerable. A possee was immediately formed and Sam was arrested.

Now it just so happened that that great detective Charlie Chan
happened to be passing through town on his way to California. It seemed
that something was funny about this case, so he decided to stay awhile
and investigate. He headed out to Fred’s ranch and proceeded to look for
clues. Right away, it was apparent that the fire had been set. An empty
kerosene can and a suspicious odor said that this was no accident. Poking
around a bit, Mr Chan found buried in the dirt an old, somewhat
decomposing breechcloth, possibly discarded by one of the conscript labor
party that had built the railroad. Most interesting, since the railroad
tracks were ten miles distant. He was onto something, but needed another
clue to tie it up. He found it in the form of a handbill, crumpled and
discarded in the corner of the barn.

Unfolding it he read “Have you seen this coin? This 1832 half dollar is
worth over $1000. We will pay you hard cash for this coin and others like
it. Write for free list. J. Abernathy, coin broker, Boston”.

Now he had all he needed to free Sam. He headed back toward town. When
he arrived, he noticed that no one was around. The town was deserted, and
worse still, the jail was empty, its door smashed. Realizing that trouble
was brewing, Charlie started running. As he neared Hanging Rock, he could
hear the angry roar of mob justice.

He entered the clearing and fought his way through the crowd while
yelling “Stop. You are making a big mistake. You are about to hang the
wrong man. The real culprit is The Lone Ranger.”

The crowd stopped and gasped. Sam, a rope already placed around his
neck, looked visibly relieved. The mob leader looked down and asked “The
Lone Ranger? How could that possibly be?”

Charlie paused, smiled, and replied “It has to be. All the clues point
to it…

A fiery ’stead with the spite of Leed
A clout of dust
And a hearty ‘Buy old Silver’
…End of the part8. To be continued..

Benny was inconsolable. As he thought about it, he recalled
that, except for that first meeting, the genie had never mentioned a word
about not shaving. Besides, now that Benny had everything he wanted, he
could keep the genie in the lamp and it would never know that he’d shaved.
So, he got out a razor, ran some hot water, lathered up, and shaved. While
he was at it, he felt a bit apprehensive, but nothing seemed to be happening,
so he went ahead. Just as he zipped off the last whisker, a lightning bolt
shot out of the clear blue sky, burst through the roof of his penthouse,
struck him dead center, and burned him to ashes. The genie then issued forth
from the lamp, wearing an apron and carrying a little dustpan and a wiskbroom.
It swept up the ashes, deposited them in a mauve and puce urn of indescribably
ugliness, sealed it, and flew off to Damascus to deposit out poor hero in
his final resting place.

Which just goes to show that, a Benny shaved is a Benny urned.

[Father Goose #37]

Roy Rogers gets a new pair of boots, but a mountain lion eats the
boots. To get even, Roy chases (insert colorful description as needed) and
kills (after long fight – to be described in vivid detail) the lion, and
returns carrying the lion back to camp. When he returns, Dale Evans
exclaims, “Pardon me, Roy, is that the cat that ate your new shoes.”

[Father Goose #38]

There was once an agricultural extension of a community college that
was into growing big fruit. Now we’re really talking big fruit here:
they grew blueberries the size of oranges and strawberries the size of
grapefruits. Not only were they big, but they were also the sweetest,
juiciest, most luscious fruit you’ve ever tasted. Realizing the
commercial value of such fruit, before attempting large scale
cultivation, they decided to insure these fruit. But in order to get
something insured, you need to have it valued for insurance purposes.
What do academics know about insurance anyway? So they look in the
phone book, and call the first entry: the Acme Insurance Valuation
Service. These two guys show up and they are pretty shady looking
characters; they’re not wearing lab coats, they’re wearing
trenchcoats! The guys from Acme pick up the fruit and start walking
out with it. The scientists are surprised and incensed, and ask “Are
you going to value them here, or give us a receipt, or what?” The two
guys from Acme reply “We have come to seize your berries, not to
appraise them.”

[Father Goose #39]

Hans and Gretchen were walking along the shore one Sunday afternoon when
they spotted a dock projecting into the harbour. They decide to walk
to the end of the dock and sit down to rest (chat, have a smoke or
whatever).

Gretchen, in her infinite boredom, suggests to Hans, “While we walk
to the end of the dock, why don’t you count the number of slats used
to build it, and I’ll count the number of slits between the slats?”

Hans replies, “Ja, sehr gut, I will count the slats, and you will
count the slits.”

So the couple merrily troops down the dock. Hans counts, “One
slat!”

Gretchen counts, “One slit!”
“Two slats!”
“Two slits!”

And, well, you know how the natural numbers work. Eventually Hans and
Gretchen approach the end of the dock.

“327 slats!”
“327 slits!”
“328 slats!”
They reach the end of the dock. Gretchen is puzzled.

“Hans! There are no more slits! What does it mean?”

Hans turns to Gretchen and says (brace yourselves),

“When you’re out of slits, you’re out of pier!”

[Father Goose #?]

Once upon a time, these two women were talking and the one asks the other how
many times she’s been married, and the reply was 4. ‘Four times!’ exclaimed
the first girl, why so many?

So the other girl said:
‘Well, I first got married when I was very young, and I married this
wonderful man who was a banker. However, one day just a few weeks after
we were married, his bank was robbed and he was shot and killed.’

‘Oh my gosh, that’s terrible’ the first girl said.
‘Well, it wasn’t that tragic. Soon after that, I started seeing another
man who performed in the circus. He was really a great guy, but he lived
pretty dangerously because he performed his high-wire act without a net.
Well, a few weeks after we got married, he was performing a show and
suddenly a gust of wind came by and knocked him off his wire and he was
killed.’

‘Your second husband was killed too?!!? That’s horrible!’
‘Yes, it was terrible, but at the funeral I fell in love with the minister
and we got married soon after that. Unfortunately, one Sunday while he
was walking to church, he was hit by a car and killed.’

‘Three??? Three husbands of yours were killed? How could you live through
all that?’
‘It was pretty tough, but then I met my present husband. And he’s a
wonderful man. I think we’ll live a long happy life together.’

‘And what does your present husband do for a living?’
‘He’s a mortician.’

‘A mortician? I don’t understand something here. First you marry a banker,
then a circus performer, then a minister, and now a mortician? Why such a
diverse grouping of husbands?’

‘Well, if you think about it it’s not too hard to understand…

One for the money…
Two for the show…
Three to get ready…
And four to go!’

[Father Goose #40]

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there was a kingdom
in which the king was fond of history and ancient things.
He would collect historical objects, dress in royal threads
from bygone eras, and generally try to live ancient traditions.

One day the king issued a royal proclamation, as kings are
wont to do now and then. Of course, he wrote the proclamation
in the language of 200 years ago, rich in antiquated spellings,
obsolete words, now-defunct verb forms, etc.

The general population, of course, could make neither head nor
tail of the proclamation. A vast legal muddle ensued. The
courts, called upon to untangle the mess, pronounced a ruling
that, henceforth, all royal proclamations must be written in
modern, currently accepted prose. In other words,

We can’t have archaic and edict, too.

[Father Goose #41]
…End of the part7. To be continued..