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“Smell…you could smell me because I was in the room when

it was happening.”

“Bullshit! Bullshit!”

“I was there to make sure nothing went wrong; to make sure he

didn’t mess with you.”

“You were in the room all those times? Then if you’re not a

rapist you’re a goddam voyeuristic creep! But it was you; I know it

was you, and I’m calling the goddam cops on you, you fucking rapist

loser.”

She hung up the phone. I dug the bottle of bourbon out of my

closet, drank half a glass, then walked slowly to her dorm room. A

sheet of lined paper was tacked to her door with large, sloppy letters

commanding, “Go Away!”

I stared at the note for about half a minute, then walked

back to my room.

* * *

The next morning I found a note from her slipped under my

door:

“Dear Creep — I just wanted you to be fully aware of how

much you fucked up my life and ruined my sense of self-esteem.

You have made my sex life the subject of grotesque rumors all over

campus; you have made my vagina public intellectual property. Every

moment that I endure this hellish existence, the knowledge of

how you cheapened and hurt me grows stronger, more painful, like a

cancer devouring my conscience. You horrify me. Your former friend,

Jeanine. PS: Rotting in hell for eternity would be far, far too

gentle a fate for you. PPS: Don’t ever talk to me again.”

* * *

Peggy told me that Jeanine had initiated a series of telephone

sessions with a psychic in order to figure out who the guy was.

“Madame Horowitz is really a fantastic woman. Really empowered

by the purity of nature and the spirit earth. She lives in Los Angeles,

reads Tarot cards, tea leaves, astrology charts, palms, crystal balls.

Actually I think it’s all nonsense. Expensive nonsense. But Jeanine’s

pretty desperate.”

“She’s threatened to go to the cops,” I said.

“I know. But I think she’s afraid of her parents getting

involved. Her program of rigorous debauchery has given her a profound

sense of guilt.”

“She’s not so bad. Not nearly as bad as she wants to be.”

“She says the feeling of having fucked someone she can’t

identify by name or sight or anything else robs her of the feeling of

sexual accomplishment and makes her feel deeply violated.”

“She really enjoyed it for a while. She told me she was in

love with the guy.”

“Sounds like a normal relationship, the way her attitude

changed so drastically.”

“If she’d just screwed some guy at a bar she wouldn’t really

know much more about him than she knows about her Invisible Man. Not

really.”

“Yeah. Welcome to blind labyrinth of human sexuality. Here’s

a cast for your heart.”

Peggy stared at me, beaming with joyous sarcasm, her features

bearing a sinister slant. I wanted very much to kiss her.

* * *

Jeanine began wearing hats, sunglasses, and clothing made from

hemp. She changed her hair: once the color of maple syrup penetrated by

sunlight, she dyed it jet black. I sometimes saw her striding quickly

down corridors with a kleenex held over her mouth and nose. She stopped

painting her nails and wearing make-up. She stopped eating in the

cafeteria, preferring dried fruit and nuts she purchased from an

organic mail-order company. She stopped saying “Hi,” “How are you,”

or “What’s up,” but instead leapt instantly into the substance of the

few conversations she found necessary to have. She stopped inviting

people into her dorm room.

“She says she’s very chemically sensitive,” Peggy said while

we ate spaghetti with clam sauce at the cafeteria. “She threw away her

microwave, dumped her television, and now she’s trying to get rid of

everything made of plastic. She’s disciplining her environment.”

“What’s wrong with plastic?”

“She doesn’t ride in cars anymore.”

“What’s wrong with cars?”

“The fumes disrupt her bodily equilibrium. And plastics, she

thinks they emit toxic waves that distort her thoughts. She considers

it a form of chemical rape. She only listens to chants, and writes

everything in runes.”

“Does she ever talk about that guy anymore?”

“She doesn’t think that men are psychically evolved enough to

register in her world.”

“Does she still want to know who it was?”

“She claims she’s still a virgin, and plans to stay that

way.”

“Jesus Christ. She’s delusional.”

“She thinks people shape their own reality. What you decide,

what you focus on, that’s what’s real.”

* * *

About two weeks later Peggy discovered that Jeanine was

pregnant. Jeanine still denied having had intercourse, believing

instead that she had been procreatively enslaved by environmentally

reckless corporations.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Peggy said with an air

of investigative triumph, “But she thinks that toxic emissions from

the paint on her walls triggered spontaneous life-formation in her

uterus.”

“What’s hard to believe about that?”

“I’m serious. She said that.”

“Her walls are blue and green and red. Paisely slop she

threw up when she was going through her hippy thing. Does she think the

baby will be paisely-colored?”

“Christ, Bobby, I don’t know what she’s going to do. I asked

if I could take her in for an abortion, but she hasn’t gotten

permission from the foetus’ spirit yet.”

“If she doesn’t abort it, is she going to insist that the paint

company marry her?”

* * *

Shortly after Peggy persuaded her to get an abortion,

Jeanine escaped the narrow definition of “human being.” Humans were

creatures of wreckage, exploitation, environmental poisoning. She had

become part of the earth, a silent, passive, but resilient force

that adjusts to each new vile liberty people take with it. She had lain

on her bed blindfolded like a pristine grassy hill tunneled into by

callous metal miners, helplessly allowing, torn open, subjugated.

Ultimately, like the earth being stripped of its minerals, she lost her

child, but eventually endured the awful loss with an amnesiac

forgiveness. She seemed not to realize that any of it happened.

Events came to completion, but the play of natural forces went on.

In the months before I graduated I saw her regularly in the

agriculture department buildings, entering the greenhouses,

transporting tools and pushing wheelbarrows of soil and fertilizer.

She was learning the creativity of the earth.

One afternoon I saw her chatting with Paul outside a lecture

hall. She was gesturing excitedly as he smiled and nodded. I watched

from a cautious distance, half-shielded in a doorway, wondering if at

some level, perhaps unconsciously, she realized that he was the man who

had made love to her and impregnated her. After about three minutes

they walked to one of the campus coffee shops. I kept staring at the

shop they’d gone into, wondering about the quality of their interaction

with each other, the emotional atmosphere of their togetherness. And I

was consumed with sadness for her.

I walked to her dorm room. Standing in the corridor, I tore

a blank page from one of my binders, scribbled a brief note to her,

then slipped it under her door:

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.”

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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..

stitching. As well, I could see her auburn pubic curls through the near-

transparent material. No panty gusset here.

Squiggling, she groaned in obvious anticipation, “Billy, you’re

saving this day from being a total bust. Thanks.”

Bending to my task, I started a slow rubbing, more a caress really,

that ran the length of the sole of her foot. Initially, softly with a slow build

up and then slowly kneading deeper, causing her toes to curl.

Accompanied by appreciative groans, I attempted to establish a level of

pleasure that might allow me to go farther.

With my head down, looking up through my eye lashes, I was

trying to drink in the vision of her exposed private place. I knew it was

risky, but at that moment, I was out of my head. I’d suddenly become a

sexually-aware and turned-on young man and the erotic thrill of that sight

had a much greater pull than the fear of getting caught.

I scooted closer and slipped under her legs, placing one stockinged

foot on my chest as I ran my hands over her calf from knee to ankle, still

staring at the darker shadow of her pussy seen inside the taut and stretched

crotch of her panties. With one thigh pulled aside, her tendon stood out,

tenting the leg of her panties a bit and exposing a rich forest of pubic curls

peeking from under the edge.

At that moment, perhaps alerted by my prolonged silence, she

suddenly looked up and saw where my eyes were looking. I expected an

explosion. Since I’d been caught red-handed, I made no attempt to look

away. Instead, I just continued to massage her calf as I looked into her

eyes. In the periphery of my vision, I could see her dress almost in her lap.

Jesus, what a moment! What was going to happen?

My mother pulled back a little and said, “There’s a problem here,

Billy.”

“Oh, shit,” I thought. “Here it comes!”

“Let me remove my hose. You can’t give me a proper massage

while I’m wearing them.”

She didn’t wait for a discussion. Instead she suddenly got up and

went into the nearby hall powder room, returning minutes later with her

hose bunched in her hand. She tossed them on the couch and sat again. I

noted that the garter belt was with the hose as it fell out in plain view. I

suppose that she didn’t give it a thought. In contrast, I was acutely aware

of her intimate undergarments lying there. My mind was whirling. Why

hadn’t she protested when she caught me so flagrantly looking under her

dress? Was she collecting her thoughts that she might upbraid me the

better?

Instead, she just smiled and said, “There! I feel better. Back to the

massage, if you please . . . and quit looking under my dress!” Her warm

smile took away any sting her words might have had.

She sat directly opposite me and demurely placed her foot back in

my lap, offering me no more than her knees and lower thighs to see. I

worked for another 30 minutes, kneading and massaging, and while I was

able to get fleeting glimpses of her thighs, I was not again able to see again

what I so desired, a close-up and unobstructed view of the crotch of her

panties.

—————————————————

From that day on, I remained aware that my mother was a very

attractive and sexy woman. And, as a consequence of that awareness, I

became increasingly familiar with all her clothes, both from the perspective

of what was stylish as well as what was revealing. I became intimately

aware of her various undergarments, not that I had many opportunities to

see her in them, but more that I couldn’t resist snooping in her lingerie

drawers.

Mother was a striking woman, tall – about 5′ 10″ – mostly legs it

…End of the part3. To be continued..

“No, I can’t” she stammered.

“Take them off right now you little bitch!”

Now she looked really flustered. She looked around first as if to
check and see that no one was watching her then undid the top button
on her jeans. She put her fingers on the zipper then hesitated. I
scowled at her. She continued on, pulling down the zipper then pealing
the jeans off of her tight little ass. She was now standing about five
feet in front of me in only a pair of flower print cotton panties. I
could see the little curls of pubic hair peeking out around the edges
and over the top. By now my evil twin had completely taken over and
Mr. Nice Guy was just along for the ride.

“Great, now the panties. I want to see your hot little pussy.”

“I …”

“DO IT!”

Now she looked a little pale and her hands were shaking. This was
great, I should have thought of this months ago. She hooked her thumbs
in the waistband and bent over as she pulled them down over her
ankles. Now she stood before me stark naked. Her pussy was covered by
mound of soft curly brown hair and I could see the soft puffy lips
just beneath it. Her nipples were very erect and I was curious to see
if it was because this whole scene was arousing her or if it was just
the fact that it was chilly in the living room. I reached up to the
thermostat above the couch to take care of the latter possibility. I
was certainly getting aroused, my dick was now so hard it could have
driven nails into a two by four.

I stood up and walked over to where she was standing. I reached up and
cupped her face in my hands and bent over to give her a long lingering
kiss, letting my hands run through her hair and down along her back
to her tight little ass. She responded to the kiss with an amazing
passion. Her tongue seemed to go almost halfway down my throat and her
hands clutched at my ass pulling me in tighter. I had finally found
the right buttons to push, she was really enjoying being my little
slave. This was an opportunity that would not go unwasted. I broke the
kiss,

“Undress me. Start with the shirt, shoes and socks, then my
pants.”

She just stood there looking at me like she didn’t know what to do
next. But I did. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her over my knee as I
sat back down. I held her wrists behind her and bent her over my knees
so her ass was high up in the air. SMACK! She gasped as my hand made
contact with her bare ass. SMACK! Now she cried out with a little
yelp,

“Stop it! Ouch! Shit, don’t do that goddammit!”

I hit her harder. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her ass was turning a dull
cherry red. With each blow she cried out as she squirmed around on my
knees. Finally I had decided she had enough (in other words my hand
was starting to hurt). I wanted to see if this was having the desired
effect on her so I slid my hand down the crack of her ass and between
her legs to her pussy. Her juice was leaking from her and her outer
lips were covered with a thick slippery film. I slid my middle finger
up along the crack between her lips until my fingertip brushed up
against her clit. She cried out even louder than when I was spanking
her. She tried to raise her ass up higher as I started to probe the
inside of her pussy.

“Don’t stop, it feels so good.”

“Don’t stop what?”

I stopped.

“What you were doing to me”

“What was that?”

“You know, what you were doing with your fingers.”

“I was playing with your pussy. Say it.”

Silence. SMACK!

“If you want me to play with your pussy some more you have to ask
for it. In graphic detail.”

“Please …”

“Say it!”

“Please …, please play with my pussy”

“Say more.”

“Put your fingers in my pussy.”

“In your cunt. Say ‘Stick your fingers up my hot cunt’.”

“Stick your fingers up my hot cunt. Please, play with my little
pussy.”

“Not yet, first you have to undress me.”

She gave me a look of disappointment as I let go of her arms and
pulled her off my lap. I stood up in front of her and this time she
immediately went to work removing my clothes. She took off my shirt
then knelt at my feet to remove my shoes and socks. When she was done
with those she reached up to take off my jeans. I ran my fingers
through her soft brown hair as she fumbled with the top button. She
unzipped me and slowly pulled down my jeans and briefs at the same
time. My dick, which was now rock hard sprung out and almost hit her
in the face. I doubt that she had ever seen a hard cock before because
she backed off a little and stared at it, her mouth agape. Now Kim has
a very pretty face with a set of those nice full, pouty lips that you
see on some fashion models and there had been many a night where I had
gone back to my apartment in frustration after one of our dates and
whacked off thinking about having those lips wrapped around the head
of my cock. As she stared at my dick I knew exactly what was going to
happen next. I walked back to the couch and sat down and motioned for
her to come over. She got up and stood in front of me waiting for me
to say something. I reached over and slid one finger up into her still
sopping pussy. She closed her eyes as I gently probed her lips and
slid the finger in and out.

“Do you like it when I do this to you Kim?”

“Yes”, she replied in almost a whisper.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy some more?”

She groaned a reply.

“Good. If you want me to play with your cunt some more you’ll have
to do one little thing for me.”

“What?”

“Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Her eyes snapped open and she took a step back.

“You want me to do what?”

“Suck me. Get on your knees and put my cock in your mouth.”

“You want me to put it in my mouth? That’s gross!”

…End of the part2. To be continued..

Jenny and I discussed the day’s events over dinner. She
said she had been thinking about it a long time. Although she
couldn’t picture herself ever cheating on me with another man,
the thought of me watching her with another man grew and grew
until it became a full-fledged turn-on for her, too. She worked
the whole plan through her head for days, before she had the
nerve to actually call Danny and arrange for him to mow the lawn.
“So, how was he? His stamina depressed this 40-year old
man.”
Jenny giggled and said, “His stamina surprised this 35-year
old woman! I thought it would all be over and done in just a few
minutes.”
I toasted her with my wine, “You are the cause of that,
Dear. Your beauty, your amazing body, and your pure sexuality.”
Jenny blushed, “The whole time it was going on, I was
thinking about you watching me, knowing I was doing this for
you.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so then you didn’t enjoy it?”
She laughed, “Of course, I enjoyed it! If he ever learns
how to really use what he has, there will be a traffic problem in
the neighborhood from all the teenie-boppers lining up and
cruising by. He’s a real stud.”
A serious thought intruded, “You know he’ll want more, don’t
you?”
Jenny waved my concern away. “I’m sure he’ll ask or try,
but I’ll convince him it was a once in a lifetime thing that can
never be repeated.”
Jenny was right. She told me that a few days later, Danny
stopped by before I got home from work. Jenny said she sat him
down, held his hand and apologized for what happened. She said
she didn’t know what came over her, that she loved her husband
and could never risk her marriage like that, again. Apparently,
Danny took it all, with a pout, but finally left.
If anything, Jenny and I felt even closer than we did before
my birthday. Left with a quiet moment in work, or distracted
from a book, my mind would wander back to our porch, and I could
see another man’s hard, pink/purple cock spreading my wife’s pink
pussy lips, fucking her willing cunt.
……
On a Friday night in November I was home alone. A guy in
Jenny’s office was being transferred to Los Angles, and she was
at the going away party. A little after midnight, the phone woke
me.
It was Jenny, “If I were you, I’d take a chair into the
bedroom closet. I might be bringing home another birthday gift
for you. I love you.”
Surprised at the call, I hurried to make the bed and pry a
few louvers in the closet door apart. I was ready when I heard
the car pull into our driveway.
The front door opened, and I heard Jenny, “Thanks for the
ride home, Bill. I had too, too much to drink.”
Bill was the guy leaving for L.A. He was about my age and
very good-looking. “My pleasure, Jenny. The party was beginning
to drag, anyway. What do you say we wake Ron up and keep the
party going here?”
“No can do. Ron’s in Denver until tomorrow, and I’ve had
enough to drink for the night. I’m very tight! How about you?
Want a coffee or another drink?”
“Sure, coffee sounds great.”
“Good. I make a mean cup of coffee. But, first, let me get
these damn heels off.”
“I’ll keep you company.”
Jenny hit the light switch as she entered the bedroom and
Bill was one step behind her. I had the perfect view of him
reaching around my wife and cupping her breasts. Jenny leaned
her head back on his shoulder and said, “Ohhhh, Bill. You aren’t
trying to take advantage of my inebriated state, are you?”
His fingers had found Jenny’s nipples, and they were
obviously hardening to his touch. “Yeah, I want to take
advantage of you. I want to see how really tight you are, and I
don’t mean from the drinks.”
Jenny turned and pushed him back onto the bed. He was
sitting on the edge, looking up at her. Her back was to me and
I watched Bill’s face as my wife began to strip for him. Her
dress buttoned across the shoulders, and when open, fell to her
feet. Jenny slowly lifted the dark blue, full slip up over her
hips and head and stood still. She was still wearing her heels,
a dark lacy bra, tiny panties, garterbelt and stockings.
Bill licked his lips. “I want to see your tits.”
Jenny opened the front of her bra and dropped it to the
floor.
“Your pussy. I want to see your cunt.”
Jenny stepped out of her wispy panties and pushed Bill back
onto the bed. Then she knelt on the floor between his legs and
began to open his slacks. I heard the zipper and watched her
pull his pants down to the floor. His cock stood up pink and
rigid. Jenny shifted position to give me a perfect view as she
lowered her mouth over his cock.
She sucked him for a few minutes and then climbed up and
mounted him. Bill grabbed handfuls of her ass, “Oh, Jenny, you
ARE tight! All this time we worked together, we could’ve been
fucking like this. You walk around that office like the perfect
lady, but you are really one easy little slut, aren’t you?”
Jenny was responding to his cock and his talk, but before
she could get there, Bill tightened his hold on her ass and
…End of the part2. To be continued..

— | I was fucked by GUMBY.
____/ | – _ |
/ | | | | | It was years after the TV series was set that
| (0) (0) | | / | this disgusting thing occured, Gumby had grown
| o | | | | up as had the boy owner of the books that Gumby,
___| -___- |_| | | Goo, Prickle and Pokey called home. That boy
/ | | owner was now thirteen and Gumby was about 17 or
| _ ___/ | 18.
| | | | | Anyhow, being a thirteen year old boy, he had
| | | | | porno magazines, which, like the other books in
| \|_ | | the room, could come alive and be interacted with
\ _| 6 | | by Gumby.
\__| | | Gumby, being stuck in a children’s book, didn’t
| /| |\ | | get much action so he was fairly desperate. He
| |_| |_| | | had given Prickle a poke and Pokey some of his
| |_| | | prick and he had also filled Goo with -er- goo,
| \_/ | | but he wanted some real stuff- with a human.
| | | | So, strolling around the room one day he
| | | | stumbled across the place where the boy hid his
| : | : | | pornos and he didn’t waste anytime entering that
| :… | :… | | text.
|______|______| | I was one of the guys in there making sure the
| girls got their fill.
—————————+ Gumby’s groin bulged forward and his plasticine
penis became hard. Now, it was that all the orifices of the females were
already occupied by someone so Gumby had to choose something else to get into.
This didn’t worry him, though, he had only ever grown up with males: Prickle,
Pokey and the blockheads were all males and Goo- well- Goo was a lump of Play-
Doh.
He looked around to find a male’s orifice that was within reach and
accessable, apparently he chose me.
I was too busy to notice him at first because, being a plasticine dick, he
had made it really thin and just slipped it in. It didn’t take me long to
realise something was amiss, though, for, once he had it in me, he let it
expand.
I’m not going to deny anything here- It felt good.
When he had gotten to what felt like normal size (its hard to judge when you
cannot make a comparison) he sighed and asked “Can I go deeper?” Having never
been aroused like this before (fucking for a living takes the fun out of sex)
I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
I felt his plasticine manhood moving into me, through my anus, up my rectum,
into my intestines. My arse was crushing his dick and oh it felt good!
It took him a long time to get through both my intestines and he stopped at
my duodenum. Then he stayed there awhile, sending ripples of plasticine up and
down his penis. Hmmmmmm.
Then, suddenly, he began to withdraw, slowly at first then faster, and if you
have ever done this kinda stuff you’ll know that this feels *great.*
I had three orgasms, and boy did I scream with pleasure! I must have because
the boy owner heard me and picked up the porno. He stared down at us a while
then ripped his pants down and started thrashing himself.
It was amazing! I had a guy (a Gumby) pulling his thirty foot dick out my
arse and I was watching a thirteen year old giant jerking off his immense
penis. I had another few screaming orgasms just to show the kid I appreciated
him.
Then I felt Gumby come, pumping hot plasticine sperm into me for a few
seconds and then he was out of me and I could relax, or so I thought. It was
at that time that the kid came: it was frightening, I looked up and there was
this immense wall of come hurtling towards us. It splashed into the magazine
and filled up our photo. Lucky the girls were there to drink it all up, Gumby
helped a bit, too after he had tended to me.
First, he asked whether I had enjoyed it. *YES!*
Then he asked if he could retrieve his stuff. I nodded. He went behind me and
I felt his warm wet tongue lick my anus before entering. It, too, elongated
and went right up inside, searching for his tasty semen. I just quivered in
ecstacy as his tongue probed.
When he was sastified that he had every drop, he pulled out and I came again.
Then he gave me two dollars and left.
My magazine (my home) was thrown out because the pages were stuck together.
The boy grew up with a plasticine fetish and a homosexual tendency.
And Gumby moved into the book called ‘Atlas of the Human body.’

Anyway, I need to go now, I have something to tend to.
[ PS- the story- it's all true! ]

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