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The growing membership of the Willyville Nudist Society (formed
somewhere around July 11th) petitioned the mayor’s office to temporarily
modify the laws against public indecency so as to allow the nudists to
pursue their own version of ‘personal freedom’. A story about it appeared
in the local newspaper, and a day later the mayor’s office recieved over a
thousand anonymous letters in support of the petition. However, almost 80%
of those letters were mimeographed in the same writing, unsigned, and sent
without return addresses. Somebody had been very busy, indeed. There was no
comment from the mayor’s office about the whole situation. Rumor had it he
had snuck out of town for a long overdue vacation…

For Harold Sykes, the usual lunacy of Willyville passed over him
without notice as his days stretched into a grey cloud of depression. At
work he hardly spoke, and when he went home he drew the blinds and sat in
the stifling heat staring at a blank wall. When he saw a pretty girl out on
the street he would avert his eyes until she passed by. When his friends at
work spoke to him he would always jump, as if jolted from some private
world. When asked about his change of behavior, he would simply dismiss it
as the aftermath of a breakup. But deep inside his heart ached and he spent
long, sleepless nights wondering who Cindi might be with and what they
might be doing and being certain that she was having a far, far better time
now than she had ever had with him. His depression grew deeper and deeper
and he knew that over the horizon lay only more dark clouds.

The situation came to a head when Harold nearly throttled a co-worker
for singing “Zipity-Doo-Da” one morning after announcing his engagement.
After explaining to his supervisor (and the police officer) that he had
been under a lot of stress lately, he was awarded with a two-week (unpaid)
vacation and the advice to see a psychiatrist. Soon.

Instead he sat at home, watching “Love Boat” reruns and drinking some
horrible beer and lemonade concotion bottled in New Jersey. Masochism was
the word of the day here.

He was idly (and a bit drunkenly) trying to decide whether to use a
sledgehammer or a shotgun on the TV set when the phone rang.

The harsh, obnoxious sound grated in his ears, pulling him from the
fantasy that enveloped him. A part of him begged to answer the phone, as
usual, to see who would be calling. The rest of him said screw it, why
bother?

Finally, long ingrained habit won out. He lurched over to the phone
and yanked the reciever off the cradle. Placing it to his mouth, he offered
the most cheery greeting his jangled mind could come up with.

“Go fuck yourself.”

There was moment’s hesitation before a familiar male voice came out of
the other end. “Harold! How ya doin’?”

“Hi, Tom.” Harold sighed. Tom was Harold’s best friend and a devout
hedonist, to boot. “I’m doing fine. Just don’t feel like getting out much
in this heat, is all.”

“Yeah, right.” Tom said in a voice that made it perfectly clear he
didn’t believe a word of it. “Well, shit, man, you need to get out
sometimes, before you start to grow cobwebs or something. And I got just
the thing…”

Harold silently groaned and rubbeed his temples. The only thing he
wanted was to be left alone. One of Tom’s ‘just the thing’ ideas was the
last thing he needed right now. “Uh, look, maybe later-”

“Later my ass!” The voice on the other end roared. “I know what
happened. Kelly told me.” Harold’s eyes widened but he really wasn’t
surprised. He fully expected Cindi to blab to everyone who would sit still
long enough to listen. He tried to imagine that Cindy was sitting in front
of him instead of the TV and suddenly his hands fairly itched for that
sledgehammer.

Tom continued, “Shit, man, something like that would’ve killed me.
Cindi has got to be the most twisted bitch I have ever heard of. Nobody has
a right to do that to somebody else.”

“Yeah, I ain’t too happy about it either. But I can’t do anything, so
how about I call you later-”

“I ain’t done yet.” Tom interrupted firmly. “You’ve got to get out of
there and back into circulation. You stay in that dark house much longer,
you’re going to do something stupid.” Harold felt a sudden shock. What had
he been thinking? He had twelve payments to go on the TV yet. Suddenly the
beer and lemonade in his stomach began to churn.

“Look, Harold, I’m your buddy. It hurts me to see what she’s done to
you. I wanna help, and I think I know the best way to do it. There’s a
party going on Saturday afternoon at this place I know over in Squirrel
Heights. Right off Wanker street. The whole gang’s gonna be there, along
with a bunch of other people I don’t know. Lots of available girls, I hear.
Hoping to add a couple to my collection myself. I think you ought to go
with me. Keep me from getting in too much trouble.”

Harold’s voice was thick as he struggled with his gorge. “I… I don’t
know…”

“Aw, c’mon. I want you there. You don’t have to do anything or talk to
anybody if you don’t want. Just soak up some rays and good feelings. I
ain’t heard of anybody going away from a West Side Party feeling bad.”

“Well…”

“It’s settled, then.” Tom concluded, perhaps a bit prematurely. “I’ll
be by about noon Saturday, and you can ride with me. I know you don’t
drink, and I could use somebody sober to drive me home. If I go home at
all. If not, you can use the car. Sound good?”

Harold had his voice under control and was actually feeling a bit
better. Tom’s nonstop talking had distracted him from the full impact of
the crisis, and his depression was beginning to lift a bit. “Sure, why not?
Should I bring anything?”

“Toothbrush and a change of shorts, maybe.”

They talked for a few more minutes and when Harold finally hung up, he
felt immensely better. He had felt so alone not long ago. It was good to be
reminded he had friends. Maybe with their help he could pull through this
depression and come out a whole human being once again. But that was still
a ways off.

In the meantime, he tidied the house up. Lastly he came to the
collection of bottles from his binge that morning. He was astonished to
discover how much of that stuff he had drunk. Thinking about it reminded
him just how awful the stuff really was. He hiccuped once and ran for the
bathroom, hand over his mouth.

He almost made it.

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be able to trust another woman as long as I live. If I could get along

without sex I’d never even look at another one. Now the only contact I have

with any of them is for sex, pure and simple. I’ve been doing the swinging

thing for a few months and I’ve learned I’m up for anything so long as it

makes me feel good and has no strings attached.

“You know the whole time we were married I never once cheated on that

bitch. Not that I didn’t have the chance either. I had lots of chances to

cop a little trim on the side and never once did. I even had a few guys

proposition me, like you did back when you were a kid. I can’t tell you how

many times I’ve looked back on that and other offers I had and have kicked

myself for not taking advantage of them.”

I’d been listening sympathetically as Eric unburdened himself, but that

last line nearly took my breath away. There was no doubt that I still found

him incredibly sexually attractive; I’d been jacking off for years

fantasizing about this hunky man. Now it seemed that he was making himself

available to me. Still we’d just become reacquainted and we had a lot

riding on our business relationship. I didn’t, couldn’t do anything that

would jeopardize that. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t do much of

anything. I made some inane remarks about how hard it must be for him; how

I felt his pain; how he’d meet someone, some day who would make him change

his mind about romance; bullshit like that. We ate a great lunch and

talked business, but it was really hard to keep my mind off what was

between Eric’s muscular legs. We went back to the office with no further

reference to sex.

The remainder of the week was so busy for both of us that we barely had

time to do anything other than the routine. There was still much to discuss

and plan. For this reason on Friday afternoon I asked Eric if he’d be

willing to work on a long range plan with me on Saturday. He looked a

little disappointed, but said, “sure not a problem. What time do you want

to meet?”

“Are you sure it’s alright, you didn’t have other plans made, did you?”

“As a matter of fact I did, but it’s nothing I can’t put off. The meeting

is more important.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll meet you here say 10:00 tomorrow morning?”

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow.”

“Great.”

I couldn’t help but stare at his bubble butt as he left my office. That

night I spent a long, slow session stroking myself to an immense orgasm

just thinking of swallowing him whole. It was somehow very satisfying,

because now I felt that I had a chance to turn it into reality. I just

didn’t know how soon that would be.

The next morning I arrived at the office at 9:30. I was dressed casually

in a polo shirt and a pair of dockers. Eric arrived at just before 10:00,

carrying a couple of containers of Dunkin’ Doughnut coffee and wearing a

pair of baggy sweat pants and an old sweat shirt. The fabric of the sweat

pants was so soft and worn that you didn’t have to look hard or stare to

see that there was a fat cock swinging loose just behind the material. I

began to think that his purpose in life was to sexually torment me.

“So,” I asked, “were you able to rearrange your plans?”

“No. I was going to entertain a couple from Connecticut, and I was hoping

they’d come down later in the evening and spend the night so that we ccould

party after I finished here, but they have a wedding to attend back home

tomorrow afternoon, so we left it for some other time. I gave up at least a

couple of great blow jobs for this meeting. You owe me big time.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, though I thought of a couple of ways, but

I just kept my mouth shut and we got down to work. At about 2:00 it dawned

on us that we were hungry so we call out for pizza delivery. It was about

6:00 when we both decided we’d had enough and it was clear we’d made

significant progress. We worked well together.

Eric stood, giving a man sized stretch. When he did, his shirt rode up

exposing his hard, flat stomach and the flaxen down that surrounded his

navel and then trailed downward toward his prize. As my eyes gazed lower I

stared right at the head of his dick. When he stretched backward it had

pushed forward and was now right in front of my face clearly outlined

beneath the soft material of his sweats. The head alone was the size of a

hen’s egg. I guess my mouth dropped open and I was staring.

The next thing I heard was a chuckle followed by, “see something you like?”

“Yes,” I barely whispered, “and I see something I’ve wanted for almost 16

years. Can I have it?”

“Seems only right. I should have let you have it back 16 years ago, so I

guess I owe it to you. And for sure you owe me a fantastic blow job

because that’s what I missed out on this afternoon.”

“Then,” I said grinning, “I think we can work out a deal. Do you want to

do it here or would you like to come back to my place?”

“Tell you what. I’m super horny, it’s been awhile since I’ve been with

anyone. That’s why I was disappointed at missing out on the Connecticut

couple, they both have very talented mouths. I’m good to go for at least

two or three rounds. If you don’t mind I’d like it quick, down and dirty

here and now. Then once the edge is off we can go back to your place and

do it again slow and easy. You up for that?”

“I am if you are,” I said. Was I ever? Eric sat down in his chair again

and then swung it around toward where I was sitting at the end of the

table. He stretched out, spread his legs and then grabbed the top of his

sweats with his thumbs and pulled it down and hooked it under his large

ball sac. His cock was plumping out and rising right before my eyes. By

the time I got out of my chair, came around the side of the table and

kneeled between his legs it was standing steely hard, a full 6 1/2 inches

of the thickest manmeat I’d ever seen. I was easily as big around as it

was long. In the flesh it was even more beautiful than I’d ever imagined.

I’d waited so long for this. I felt as though I were dreaming. I took hold

of it in my hand feeling its velvety soft warmth. I gently pulled it

toward my face and flicked my tongue out to capture the small clear bead of

man honey that had just formed at the slit. I tasted him for the first time

and went wild. I dove down on that meaty hog and didn’t come up for air

until he was moaning like a bitch in heat. I was determined that he was

going to get the best blow job of his life; I was certain I was going to

give the best blow job of my life.

He couldn’t stand it. He was too hot to just kick back and enjoy it. He

grabbed the back of my head with his strong opened hands and pumping into

my mouth. He began slowly, but as we both became more comfortable and sure

of each other’s rhythms the speed pick up. It was as though he’d been

suddenly unchained. He stood up so that he could drive himself deeper,

never letting go of my head. We bonded, mouth to cock, a virtual fucking

machine. All I wanted was to drink from the essence of his being, to feel

him gushing his pent up juices into my mouth and down my throat. I felt

his balls tighten up, his breathing become more labored and his body

tense. Then it happened. His cock swelled and pulsed and he shot. There

was almost not enough room for both cock and cum, but I took gulp after

gulp. There was no way I was giving up a single drop.

When he’d regained his composure, breath and ability to speak he looked

down at me, my mouth still stuffed with his now softening piece. He was

grinning from ear to ear.

“Hot damn, bossman. That was the best head I’ve ever had, bar none. If

that’s what you can do on your knees with my britches still on I can’t wait

to be naked with you in a bed. I hope you liked it as much as I did, cause

if so it’s my guess neither one of us will ever bitch about working late

again.”

I slid his cock from my mouth, kissing the head as I did. I looked up at

him again and just smiled. But he was right. Naked and in bed made things

much more interesting…but that’s a whole other story.

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it successfully and see how she handled it. He ran a gloved hand over the

frosted intercom panel, stopping and pressing one labeled “9 – Sanders” and

cleared his throat.

“Yes?” It was the sound he’d fallen in love with – the voice of this woman he’d

never met, but knew as intimately as he knew himself.

He immediately assumed the lazy Southern drawl he’d been practicing, covering his

normally flat voice. “Phone company, miss. You a ‘Ms. Sanders’ who wants a

second line installed?” “Oh, yes; you’re early – the person at the office said

this afternoon-” the disembodied voice replied.

“Well, yer lucky; my first call was supposed to be a repair job that’d take all

morning, but they cancelled.” He was having trouble not adding small things like

“darling” or “my lovely lap-dancer”.

“Good; the sooner I get the line installed, the sooner I can log-on and-” The

rest of her plans were drowned out by a harsh metallic buzz. He grabbed his

toolbox and reached to open the door, unable to suppress a grin at the irony of

her statement. He breathed deeply as he mounted the half-flight of stairs,

shaking his head to rid himself of any stage fright. He’d always worried about

the wrong things before – surely this meant that all would go well? The hard

part was getting his body to believe it.

He concentrated on projecting the image of an American phone technician on his

first job of the day. A coil of cable was over his left shoulder, a large

tool-case in his right hand and blue, insulated coveralls obscuring his body from

neck to ankle. A hard hat covered his dark hair – ’she’d spot that right away

after what she said upon getting my picture’ he thought – and to complete the

facade a worn, weathered clipboard in his left hand.

He stepped to the correct door, stuck his gloves in a pocket, placed his toolbox

on the floor, and rapped on the door. To add to the illusion, he stood on his

toes – adding to his apparent height. He also grabbed a pen from his chest

pocket and started ‘writing’ on the clipboard held *just* in between the fish-eye

and his face – right-handed to further lull his prey from detecting her

“Grammar-Checker”.

He was rewarded with a series of clicks and the door opened. “I’d like the plug

near the table over there-” she said as she pointed back into the apartment, and

gasped as the ‘phone technician’ dropped his things and hugged her, surprising

her with a deep, passionate kiss. She felt the bristle of his moustache,

myopically saw the small scar on his cheek, and stopped resisting. When they ran

out of breath, they separated and she cried out his name with a child-like look

of delight on her face. “What ARE you doing here?”

“Gee, what do you THINK, lover? We’ve both been champing at the bit to meet

finally.”

“How’d you do all this?”

“Simple – you mentioned that you were finally getting an ISP and extra phone

line. I stayed at that motel just outside Geneva and waited to see a phone

company van to go by – handy thing, you living in a small town. I was lucky

enough for it to pull into a gas station on the way. When the driver went in to

pay, I slipped up and took a peek at the work orders.”

“But what if I’d have been the first client of the day, or if he hadn’t stopped?”

“Just lucky I guess – there’s only so much planning you can do. Anyway, happy

birthday.”

They kissed again. “Thank you; it’s not ’til Wednesday, but I think this is a

wonderful gift. One question remains – how could you even afford a plane ticket?

You never got that work term in Kansas City!”

“Well, there’s an interesting story that will explain my ability to be with the

one I love…but that will wait for lunch; right now we’ve got some things to

attend to.” His mouth curled into a salacious, wolf-like grin – showing her what

he’d meant every time he added “” to an email comment. He turned to grab his

things in the hall and was rewarded with a slap on the buttocks.

…End of the part1. 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.”

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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..

blind. Yes, I could tell. It’s tough isn’t it, trying to be subtle and look at

my tits at the same time!”

All pretense had vanished. Any thought I might have had for a

negotiated seduction was out the window. This wasn’t going as I’d

planned and it was wonderful. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My

beautiful mother was sitting on my lap with her breast exposed, the nipple

shining with the wetness of my saliva, groaning as she ground her bottom

into me.

“God, Mom,” I rasped, “I love you so much. I can’t tell you.”

“Yes, yes . . . I know Billy. Just love me. Hold me tight. Kiss

me.”

I couldn’t keep my hands off her body. She’d been squirming

around so much that her dress had ridden up on her thighs, exposing a

good expanse of leg. Holding her skirt-covered buttock with my left hand,

I ran my right hand up and down her body, then down to her left knee and

up under the hem of the dress to the top of her thigh, above her hose. She

scrunched down farther, helping me to lift the dress. Suddenly she was

bared to her pelvis.

“Jesus, Mom! You have such beautiful legs.”

Her only reply was to kiss me again and open her legs. I flashed

back to the afternoon I was looking up her dress. Now, however, I wasn’t

peeping. She was showing herself to me. It was clear that I couldn’t be

content just looking. Still I hesitated. Could I *touch* her there? Could I

cusp her mound in my hand? Actually feel her pussy? What the hell! In

for a penny . . .

I ran my hand up and down the soft inside of her thigh, moving

closer each time to her panties. She moaned and pushed her pelvis at me.

The side of my hand pushed against the cushy bulge of her panty crotch.

She grunted and lurched, snapping her legs shut, trapping my hand. I tried

to pull my hand out but she suddenly reached down and with surprising

strength, grabbed my wrist, I thought to pull me away from her pussy.

Instead, she opened her legs a little and pulled my hand into her crotch

even tighter, sawing me up and down against her cunt, moaning constantly.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Shit. Shit, Shit. Yes. There! Do it!”

I scrabbled my fingers, trying to get in under a pant leg edge. She

let go of my hand, lifting her hips as if to help me. I gave up and grabbed

the lacy crotch of her panties and pulled downward. Again, she heaved up,

and with her free hand, helped me pull them down, first to her low thighs

and then in a tangle of limbs, off, muttering the whole time, “Get ‘em off,

get ‘em off.”

What happened to my sedate and dignified mother? Where’d she

go and where did this lusty woman come from?

Freed of her feet, I pulled her silky panties to my nose, inhaling the

essence of her as she was groping in my lap, fruitlessly trying to pull down

my fly zipper.

“Christ! And I thought *guys* had a hard time with girls’ bras!”

she complained. “Help me, dammit.”

“Jesus, I can’t open my pants much less pull them down if you’re

sitting on me, can I?”

She laughed and said, “This isn’t going smoothly at this moment, is

it?”

Heaving her off my lap, dumping her on the couch, I replied, “No,

but it’s sure as hell is GOING . . . and right now!”

I shucked my trousers and briefs, my hard cock sticking up

obscenely. Mother’s dress and bra quickly joined the frantic pile of

clothing on the floor. Suddenly, we were both nude, or nearly so. I was

stunned at this out-of-control passion that had overwhelmed us.

A very small, detached part of my mind was observing the blind

…End of the part13. 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..

Mellisa was sad to see me go. I told her I would be
staying with my cousin in Florida for a few months. I needed to get
away. Our night of passion was something we’ll always remember. I
suppose it was meant to happen. All these years we’ve been friends, we
tried to deny ourselves that we are ‘physically attracted’ to each other.
I guess we were only afraid to jeopardize our friendship. I’ve never
really imagined how it could be possible for friends to make-love, and
still be friends after? I’ve always wondered if it was possible to
satisfy sexual needs through friends who seek of the same. Sort of a
“get-it when need-it” thing, with no strings, since both parties seek
only physical release. I guess, we were one of the few….
I could remember the times when we were a freshman in college.
I was 18, and she was 17 turning 18. I would visit her in the dorm
because I was bored. Her roommate would usually be out, and we would
spend hours talking in her dimly lit room. She would only be wearing a
Large shirt, her hard nipples etched underneath the shirt. She would sit
on her small bed while I sat on the floor facing her — with my arms
resting on the sheets. We would watch TV and comment on how actors have
sex. Sometimes, when the movie gets hot and steamy, we would catch each
other looking. We laughed at the thought. Usually, to snap ourselves out,
we would joke about each other; saying things like:
“Not with those lil’ tits I won’t” (ha ha)
“Not with that lil’ prick I won’t either.” (ha ha)
One summer afternoon I came over to her dorm. The minute I
saw her, I was stunned. I remember her wearing this tight red tank-top
that hugged her figure very well. Her tits hung beautifully, and as
usual, she didn’t wear any bra. I was speechless…
“How do you like my tank top?” she asked pulling the shirt
down her waste, exposing the exquisite curves of her breasts. “I just
bought it today…”
“I…uh…duh…I like it!” I said mumbling.
“GAGO! (Mental)” she said in Filipino with her american
accent. “I know what you’re thinking…”
“You do?” I said innocently.
“Uh-hum” she grinned.
“What is it? ” I dared. “What am I thinking?”
“YOU CAN’T have what you’re thinking. HA!” she laughed.
“SIRA! (Crazy)” I told her in ‘TAGALOG’.
Melissa rarely spoke ‘TAGALOG’ (her mom’s native language).
Her mom spoke to her in english most of the time, probably because her
father was caucasian. I encouraged her to speak. In a way, I get to
practice my ‘TAGALOG’.
I spent the whole day in her dorm. We talked about everything.
We talked about dates, guys, girls, people we hate, and people we love.
But everytime, we always end-up talking about sex. I suppose there is
something about it that intrigues both of us…Her roommate was out,
and I was thankful because she’s such a BITCH. We sat on the floor,in
the living room talking, and that evening while we were on the topic of
guys, hormones, and sex drive, I was complaining a lot about the heat.
“Geesus…It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? It’s hot.” I complained.
“Gosh! Why don’t you just take your shirt off…” She suggested.
“You don’t mind?” I asked.
“No, It’s OK…”
As soon as I took off my shirt, she jumped up and screamed,
“Oh my God! You have hairs around your nipples?!” she asked
curiously. “…and what’s this? You have a few on your chest.” she
asked surprised poking my nipples with her forefinger.
“Don’t…” I said. “Stop pulling the hairs…I’m saving them. OK?”
She was grinning a stupid grin.
“Can I touch them?” she asked acting coy.
“HUH? Well…Go ahead.”
She rubbed around my nipples feeling the hairs. *FUCK* I thought
to myself. She noticed the hairs trailing down my shorts from my stomach.
She seemed so curious…She started to feel the hairs on my stomach…
“Why do guys get hairy?” she asked still trailing her fingers.
“We just are…HORMONES…and you’re rubbing my trail.” I said
with a smile. I felt my blood pressure rising, among other things.
“What?…You’re trail?” she asked confused.
“Yeah…that’s what’s called a TREASURE TRAIL.” I said smirking.
“The TRAIL leads to my TREASURE…” She pushed me away laughing.
We laughed and laughed about it.
Later on, we still kept talking about SEX. We got into a heated
debate about masturbation. It was really stupid, but she was not about
to give-up…
“Guys masturbate all the time! We women never do that.” she
pointed-out. “When we want it, we get it.”
“What are you talking about? Women do it too.” I explained. “Why
do you think they made vibrators in the first place?”
“Women didn’t invent vibrators, MEN did.” she retorted.
“Well…if women weren’t so picky about the kind of pricks they
want, they’d get it more often, also if WOMEN didn’t force MEN to stick
their dicks in other holes where it’s not suppose to be, MEN would not
have to invent a vibrating DILDO in the first place!” I said laughing.
Ha Ha Ha…Ha Ha Ha…
“You’re GROSS…Ha ha ha…”she said laughing.
A few minutes later, we settled down with a grin on our face.
“Can I ask you something?” Melissa said feeling hesitant.
“Do YOU…masturbate?”
“What?” I said surprised. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Yeah!…You don’t have to, you know.” she assured.
“Well…uh…ofcourse. All guys do…” I said embrassed and
somewhat guilty.
“Why?”
“…uh…sometimes guys get horny…and we need some release, if
we don’t, we get irritable.” I said, somehow feeling my stomach churn.
*Where is this going?*
“What makes you guys horny?” she asked innocently.
“Lots of things…”
“Like what?”
“Sometimes, we get horny by what we see. Or sometimes by someone’s
touch.”
“Oh?….hmmm” she said. I saw her eyes light up, reavealing a
devious idea. She moved closer to where I sat and slowly said….
“Does this make you horny?” She asked stretching her tank top all
the way down her waist, tracing her breasts underneath the material.
I nodded my head.
“Does this make you horny?” she asked again softly, rubbing her
hand on my bare chest, circling her fingers around my nipples.
I nodded my head. *Don’t* I wanted her to stop, but I didn’t.
I felt a tingle in my groin, something is happening.
She stared at my body and trailed her fingers down my belly
button. She ran her fingers up and down my body…
We were silent for a few seconds…
“I haven’t seen a guy…masturbate before.” she finally said
breaking the silence.
I was feeling VERY VERY HORNY. She probably was too.
“W…would you like me to show you?” I said uneasy.
* SILENCE… *
“Yes.” she replied. Then I said, “Put your hand on my crotch.”
She placed her right hand on my crotch. Her touch made my dick
sensitive. Her hand throbbed with my dick as it started to harden from
inside my jeans. She had a look of curiousity on her face.
“Should I go on?” I asked whispering under my breath.
She nodded watching me intently.
I carefully unzipped my fly and unbuttoned my jeans. I watched
her reaction to my every move. I was being careful, and still uneasy. Yet
I went on. I was very turned on at her interest.
I reached inside my Calvins, and took my rod out.
I noticed Melissa’s eyes widen, she caught me glancing at her.
She didn’t say anything, so I continued.
We sat facing each other on the carpet floor. I gripped my rod
and began to jerk it…Melissa watched me. Faster…Slower…I stroked
my dick methodically rubbing the head on occasion. I enjoyed watching
her watch me. Her curiousity intrigued me. Suddenly, almost instictively,
Melissa caressed my balls. She liked the feel of the hair underneath.
We did this for a couple of minutes, jerking and caressing…
“I want to see you cum…” she said from under her breath.
I stared at her.
I felt the tingles trail from my legs, and my groin started
to shiver. I jacked faster, eager to reach orgasm…
I started to gasp, and breathe heavily from inside my throat.
“What are you feeling?” she asked.
“I feel IT…uhhh” I murmurred. I jacked slower.
“Where do you feel it?”
“In my groin…hhh…in my legs…hhhh…inside.” I gasped.
“I could feel it rising inside…”
I saw Melissa bite her lower lip as she watched me climax.
Faster I jerked-off, and soon I began to tense…*uhhh..hhh…*
I felt my cum rise inside my balls and up my dick. *hhhh..hhhh* The
pre-cum dripped out, and I shot my cum violently, shot after shot of
white hot semen, showering my navel and spilling some on the carpet.
I felt I was choking, gasping for air.
Melissa watched in wonder as I breathed a sigh of relief. She
came closer reaching to touch the cum on my navel with her finger.
“…You’re cum is so white…it’s like milk…” she said
fingering the white fluid.
I quickly grabbed the kleenex and wiped myself clean. Still
breathing heavily, I tried to compose myself.
“I…I think I should go now.” I said hastily as I grabbed
my shirt and zipped up my pants. “You’re roommate would be back soon.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow…” I regaining my senses.
“I..I’m sorry Melissa” I said feeling embarassed and guilty.
* SILENCE *
“Don’t be…we both wanted it to happen.” she assured.

Somehow, those words brought me out of the memories. I never
had sex with Melissa, until that evening I had the fight with Joe and
I ended up at her house. That episode with Melissa happened only once,
and it never happened again. We pretended it never happened. I didn’t
expect another encounter to happen, and this time, we REALLY did it.
I said goodbye to Melissa, and I promised her I’ll let her know
when I get back from Florida. I knew she was sad, and I really wanted to
be with her. But I couldn’t do it. I cannot let myself take the place of
her husband. I know how much she REALLY loves him.

REASONS WHY GUITARS ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN

(please note, I have eliminated the obvious copies like, “you can have a
guitar all month long”, and “a guitar doesn’t care how many guitars you own”)

1. A guitar has a volume knob
2. If you break a guitar’s G-string, it only costs $0.79 for a new one
3. You can make a guitar scream as loud as you want it to
4. You can unplug a guitar
5. You can finger a guitar for hours without it complaining it wants more
6. Other people can play your guitar without it getting upset
7. You can finger a guitar in public and get applause, not arrested
8. You can have a guitar any color you want and noone will care
9. If your guitar gets loose, you can just tighten up the strings
10. If your guitar doesn’t make sounds you like, you can change pickups
11. You can use four fingers at a time on a guitar
12. If your guitar strings are too heavy, you can just get a lighter set
13. You can have a guitar professionally adjusted to *your* liking
14. If you scratch a guitar’s back, it’s unintentional, not required
15. You can go to a guitar shop and play all the guitars you want for free

Now, for the opposite:

REASONS WHY WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN GUITARS

1. Women are more fun when the power goes out
2. You can’t get your guitar wet
3. Ever try to screw a guitar?
4. The input to a guitar is only 1/4″ (ouch!)
5. A guitar won’t beg to be played
6. It’s no fun to tie your guitar to a bed and spray whipped cream on it
7. When playing a guitar, you can use your teeth, but not your tongue
8. Guitars aren’t very aggressive
9. A guitar won’t play you back
10. You need two hands to make a guitar scream
11. A guitar won’t scratch *your* back
12. A guitar won’t drive you home if you’re too drunk
13. A guitar doesn’t care who plays it
14. You can’t play two guitars at once
15. You can’t fall in love with a guitar (awwwwwww, gee, how sweet
(well, maybe you can, but they can’t love you back)

These are my own. I get sick of regurgitated ones. I hope you like them.

–

[Father Goose #47]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As near as I can tell –

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

[Father Goose #48]

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

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

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

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

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

[Father Goose #49]

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

[Father Goose #50]

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

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..

“Dee, who flaps last, flaps left”

[Father Goose #29]

Once there was a great (or almost great) pitcher by name of Melvin
Famie. Like so many others, though, Melvin got old and lost his touch.
He was such a boost to the spirit of the team, however, that the manage-
ment could justify keeping him on the bench just to offer “Hooray!”s.
Melvin, not having to work terribly hard at his new job, took to sipping
a wee bit o’ the malt punch at games to keep HIS spirits up, so he could
keep his teammates’ spirits up.

Well, they were hard at work in a long, drawn-out battle with their
cross-state rivals when the manager realized that they were out of
relief pitchers, out of pinch-hitters, and the poor fool on the mound
was looking for a pounding. He called our hero off the bench to pitch
the top of the ninth, and Mel, on his way up the steps from the dugout,
groped back for not only his glove, but five or six cans of brew, which
he stuffed into his shirt on his way to the mound. Needless to say, Mel
had a very hard time locating the catcher from the heights of the mound,
and did all the damage required for a loss of the game by the time the
manager swapped him with the right-fielder. When the inning was finally
over, Mel collapsed against the fence next to the home-team bullpen,
and snored his way happily through the uneventful bottom of the ninth.

A youngster on the opposing team, totally amazed to have seen such in
“The Majors”, inquired of one of his fellows about the hulk up against
the fence. “That’s the great Melvin Famie”, said his elder. “What’s the
bulge in his shirt?” asked the tyro. The reply?

“That’s the beer that made Mel Famie walk us.”

[Father Goose #30]

Once there was a King who was loved by all of his subjects, especially
because of the hunting excursions he shared with them. As will happen,
one day he died and his eldest son took the throne. Now this new king
was an animal-lover to the core, and immediately outlawed all forms of
hunting and fishing. His subjects accepted this for only a short time
before they ousted him. This is a truly significant event, because it’s
the first time a reign was called on account of the game.

[Father Goose #31]

Late in the previous century, the well-known folklorist
Vivian McNabb was collecting ballads and tales in the
Scottish Highlands, and found a previously unknown musical instrument,
something in the lyre-lute-dulcimer range. It was sitting unused
as a family heirloom, and the family who owned it no longer
knew exactly how it should be tuned or played, nor did anyone
else in the region. McNabb purchased it, and showed it
in every village he passed through. Nobody could give him completely
accurate information, and nobody could tune it or play it, but some
clues began to fall in place. Several people mentioned Seamus
O’Pernokkety, who lived in Ireland, as a great authority on stringed
instruments. McNabb determined to go over and consult Seamus.

(Insert shaggy description of McNabb’s difficult travels, and the
frustrating search for Seamus O’Pernokkety.)

Finally, weak and confused, McNabb stumbled up to the door of the
cabin at the top of the steep hill. Success at last! Seamus recognized
the instrument, and agreed to tune it and teach McNabb how to play, but
only if McNabb would serve as his apprentice for a full year.

(Insert description of McNabb’s arduous year of servitude at the feet
of his musical guru.)

When the year was up, Seamus took the instrument out of the cupboard,
spent the rest of the day tuning it up, and played all night and all
the next day. It was the most remarkable, beautiful tone McNabb had
ever heard. He stayed on another month, until he too had some proficiency
at playing. At last they parted.

McNabb skipped and jumped down the hill, exulting in his newfound
skill in playing the instrument, and in the precious object itself.
So unbridled was he in his joyous carriage, that he tripped and fell,
and went tumbling arse-over-teacup down into a ravine. A large boulder
finally broke his fall, and also his leg. The instrument, however,
did not seem to be damaged. But when he tried to play it, it proved
to be badly out of tune, and he could wring from it nothing but harsh
discords. There was no help for it: he painfully crawled all the
way back up the terrible hill, arriving at Seamus’s cottage late that
evening.

“Oh, Seamus, the most terrible thing has happened!” he gasped out, and
explained about his accident. “Please, maestro, help me in my despair.
Retune the instrument! And perhaps do something about my leg, if you
can.”
“Certainly, McNabb, I can set your leg, and you’re welcome to
food and lodging while it mends. But I hope you realize I can’t work
on that instrument again.”
“But why not? Please, you must.”
“No, I cannot. I thought it was well known:
O’Pernokkety tunes but once.”

[Father Goose #32]

In the 23rd century the solar system was wracked by constant
warring between the fragmented states of the Asteroid Belt.
Particularly successful in these wars was one tribe (I’ll call
them Joes) which managed to total up a surprising war record
despite its amazingly primitive weaponry through sheer ferocity.
After having dispatched a fleet from a rival nation (call them
Jacks), the Joe general went over to his adversary’s flagship to
sign a treaty of peace. After the diplomatic niceties were
taken care of, the Jack general (who had been wounded in the
previous day’s fighting) took a moment of his time to talk shop
and mention his injury. Their exchange follows:

Said the Jack general, “What was that laser you sawed me with
last night?”

Came the reply, “That was no laser–that was my knife!”

[Father Goose #33]

It seems there were three monks who enjoyed raising plants
and were trying to keep a flower shop running, selling unique
and exotic plant life.
One day, some children where playing behind the shop and
were eaten whole by an extremely rare man-eating plant.
The parents, needless to say, were outraged, and demanded that
the friars get rid of the dangerous plant. The friars refused.
So the parents and the people of the town tried several ways to get
the friars to consent, but finally they asked Hugh, the town blacksmith,
(undoubtably the strongest man around), to run the friars out of town.

Your waiting for the moral… Can you guess?

“Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars!”

[Father Goose #34]

…End of the part5. To be continued..

“But why did you want sculpture made of bronze?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why,” said the general.

“Because General Minh prefer bronze!”

[Father Goose #51]

Maggie and Tom are a couple with a passion for ice cream. They
stopped at the local ice creamery, then returned to their car with double
scoops of chocolate almond fudge.
No sooner had they settled back to enjoy their cones than two birds
landed on the car hood and began to chirp and flutter and peck at the
windshield. Finally Maggie rolled down her window and placed the rest of
her cone on the hood. The birds quieted down and began to eat the cone.
“Maggie, you’re wonderful,” said Tom. “How did you think
of doing that?”
“Oh, it wasn’t hard to figure out,” said Maggie. “It’s just another
example of stilling two birds with one’s cone.”

[Father Goose #52]

After several years of happy marriage, a man was getting ready for his
anniversary. Their two children had been shipped off to the grandparents -
a very nice dinner for two had been ordered from the local caterer, and he
and his wife were preparing for a very quiet romantic evening at home. He
had already gotten his wife’s anniversary present – a diamond brooch, but
decided that a further touch would be neccesary. His wife had a fondness for
gardening and flowers, her favorite being Anemones, and he thought he would
present her with such a plant to replace one that had been knocked over by
their younger child several days earlier. So, on his way home from work,
just before he picked up the warming tray from the Caterer and the bottle
of champagne from the liquor store (Dom Perignon, of course), he stopped at
the Florist to pick up a live Anemone. Alas, however, the florist had sold his
last one earlier in the afternoon and was not going to get in a new shipment
until Monday. Heartbroken though he was, the man was persuaded by the
florist to instead buy a Boston Fern, which were on sale that week.
Arriving home, after carrying in the food and champagne, the man
presented his wife with the fern, and added that he had another suprise for
her. As he reached for the brooch, he mentioned about his first choice of
plants, and was about to apologize, but his wife stilled him.
“After all,” she said, “with fronds like these, who needs Anemones.”

[Father Goose #53]

It was the time of the year for the caretaker of the Church to
clean, fix, maintain, and restore the character of the Church, and this
year those duties included painting the steeple, which had not been done
in several years. He dutifully went about the work, erecting scaffolding,
and climbing up, taking his paint, his brushes, water to clean the brushes,
and a bit of drinking water, since it was a fairly hot day.
While he was painting, he realized that he would not have enough
paint to finish the steeple, and he did not feel at all like climbing down
the scaffolding and going back to the workshop to mix some more paint.
Seeing the water for washing the brushes, he came up with the idea to
make the paint he had go further, so he added the water to his paint, and
continued on.
As he was nearing completion of the steeple, he realized that the
paint he had, albeit watered down, would still not be enough to finish the
job, so he added what was left of his drinking water and finished the job
with just a few drops of paint to spare.
More releived than anything else, he climbed down the scaffolding
and started to hurry back to his workshop behind the Church, for after all,
he was dehydrated, and his unwashed brushes were beginning to set, when there
was a Clap of Thunder, a Bolt of Lightening, the sky blackened and a
heavenly Voice proclaimed:

Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!

[Father Goose #54]

Three guys, one from Russia, one from Czechoslovakia and one from
Poland, are in Canada for a conference. They decide to take advantage
of their rare visit by doing something that people do when they’re in
Canada.
The Canadian diplomats suggest a camping trip, and, ignoring the
forest rangers’ warnings of recent bear sightings in the area they plan
to visit, the three travelers set off.
Three days later, the men are long overdue. The Canadian forest
service dispatches a search party to the ares, and sure enough, they
discover a ravaged and deserted campsite and three bloated bears lying
dead a few yards away — two she-bears and a he-bear.
One of the team is sent forward to investigate, and he promptly
knifes open the two females. Just as he had feared, the Russian and the
Pole are inside, and the ranger returns to his companions and reports
his findings.
“What about the third guy?” asks one of the team members.
“Oh,” replies the first nonchalantly, “the Czech’s in the male.”

[Father Goose #55]

A revolution in a small African country paralyzed an English
firm that made rare-earth alloys; most of the Muth tribe, which
ran mines producing the needed ores, had been overrun and thrown into
makeshift concentration camps. The new rulers refused to sell any ore,
so the firm hired Glore and Landry, Ltd., basically a private
espionage service, who sent in their best man, Roger Hope. “Do whatever it
takes, Roger,” said Sir John Landry, his boss, “but get that ore moving again.”
Hope was an unorthodox idealist: he gathered together the few Muth
still at liberty and built a guerilla force that broke open the camps and
pulled off a nearly bloodless coup. When he returned to England,
Hope asked his firm to fake his death and help him assume a new identity.
Sir John was amazed. “Is it all the publicity? Will it keep you from
being effective?”
“It’s not that, Sir John,” answered Hope. “It’s just that I’m sick
and tired of being called:
Hope of Glore and Landry, free-er of the Muth.”

[Father Goose #56]

“So, how did the class reunion go?” I asked.
“Kinda fun. Some sad moments, though. Remember Lucy? I found out
she died,” he answered.
“How awful! What happened?”
“She got a job at a chemical plant. Keith Simons was working there.
You know what those two were like. Couldn’t think of anything but sex.” I
nodded. “Anyway, one lunch break they sneaked out to a favorite spot right
in the middle of the factory and started making love. They rolled under a
railing and fell right into a vat of Methyl Orange that some idiot had left
open. Tragicomic, y’know.” He paused for effect. “It reminds me of a Beatles
song.”
“Huh? Which one?”
“Lucy in the Dye with Simons.”
A loyal Beatles fan, I hit him.

[Father Goose #57]

Friar Laurence told Romeo that Juliet was getting very drunk every
night and suffering massive hangovers every morning. Romeo flew to his beloved.
It was true: she was an odd shade of pale green and had bloodshot eyes. At
first she wouldn’t admit why she drank, but at last she confessed that though
she loved him, she couldn’t stand his flatulence. Romeo explained that it
was due to a distant relative, an Englishwoman who had earned the gratitude
of her King and been made Dame Commander of the British Empire [anachronism
here, but there's worse to come], but was now impoverished. Her Italian
relatives, out of sympathy, had made her their cook, and she was feeding them
hearty English fare which disagreed with Romeo’s sensitive bowels. Romeo
kept eating her food because he hadn’t the heart to tell her. But Friar
Laurence, said Romeo, had a solution: in the Veronese catacombs there was a
shrine with relics of an obscure saint. A night of praying there, followed
by a vow that he would control his sphincters, would cure him. Juliet was so
overjoyed that her next speech didn’t quite scan properly:

JULIET: O Romeo, Romeo, therefore fartest thou, Romeo!
Deny thy fodder and refuse thy Dame.
Or if thou wilt not, be butt-sworn, my love,
And I’ll no longer be so crapulous.

Of course they didn’t live happily ever after…

–

Why do women have 2 holes so close together?
In case you miss.

Why do women have 2 holes so close together?
So you can carry them home like a six-pack.

What do you call a female clone?
A clunt.

Why did the guy trade in his wife for an outhouse?
Because the hole was smaller and the smell was better.

Why is there a string on the end of a tampon?
So you can floss after you eat.

How does a girl hold her liquor?
By the ears!

How is a woman like a frying pan?
You have to get them hot before you put in the meat.

How is a woman like an airplane?
Both have cockpits.

How is a woman like a road?
Both have manholes.

Which of the group doesn’t belong (eggs,wife,meat,blowjob)?
A blowjob because you can beat the others but you can’t beat a blowjob

Ladies, look down inside your shirts and spell the word attic out loud.

Three mysteries of women:
1. They can give milk without eating grass.
2. They can bleed for a week every month without dying.
3. (My favorite). They can bury a bone without getting their
noses dirty.

What does a woman do to her asshole in the morning?
Sends him to work.

Your wife’s just like a rifle: First she gets cocked and then she blows.

Your wife’s just like a bowling ball: She gets picked up, fingered, thrown
in the gutter, and always comes back for more!

How many male Chauvinists does it take to clean a toilet ?????
None ! Thats womans work.

What two things in the air might get a woman pregnant?
Her feet!

If God didn’t want man to eat pussy, He wouldn’t have made it look
so much like a TACO!

What do you call a hooker with a runny nose?
FULL!!

How can you tell if you’ve been fucking your girl too much?
A: Stick your thumb in her asshole and your middle finger up her snatch,
If you can hear yourself snap your fingers, ease off a little.

How does a women get a mink coat ?
The same way mink gets a mink.

What do the two million battered wives in America all have in common?
They don’t know when the hell to shut up.

———-

A woman goes to the gynecologist with a terrible case of
crotch rot. The doctor takes one whiff & almost passes out.
“My dear,” says the Doc, “this is serious! What you need is Mega Douche!”
“Mega Douche?” says the woman, “What’s that?”
“It’s my own formula! It contains marijuana, talcum powder
& Kentucky fried chicken.”
“Why marijuana, talcum powder & fried chicken?”
“Because you wanna keep that thing high & dry & finger lickin good!”

———–

Three men were sitting on a beach; a fairly good-looking blonde walks by.
The first man says, “I give her a six”; the second, “I give her a 7″; the
third says, “She is a 1.” The other two look at him and wonder. Another
woman walks by. The first man says, “She is an 8″; the second says, “I give
her an 8+”; the third says, “She is a three.” Again the first two men wonder
about him. Then an extremely fine-looking redhead approaches. The first man
says, “She is a 10!” The second man says, “She is an 11!!” The third guy
says, “She is a six.” The other two finally look at him and say, “What is the
matter with you, man?? That redhead is perfect!! Are you weird or
something??”
“Wait a minute–you don’t understand; I use the Budweiser scale.”
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s how many clydesdales it would take to pull her off my face.”

———————————-

How A Pussy Was Made
====================

Seven Wise Men made up their minds
to build then a Pussy of their own Design.

The First was a Carpenter, full of wit,
with a Hammer and Chisel, He made the Slit.

The Second, a Blacksmith, black as coal,
with an Anvil and Sledge, He made the Hole.

The Third, a Rich Tailor, tall and thin,
with a peice of Red Ribbon, He lined it within.

The Fourth, a Furrier, big and stout,
with the Skin of a Bear, He lined it without.

The Fifth, a Fisherman, old and bent,
with a Rotten Herring, He gave it a Scent.

The Sixth, a Preacher, with a B.A. degree,
Patted it, and Felt it, and said it would Pee.

The Seventh, a Rabbi, a Mean Little Runt,
Blessed it, and F*cked it, and called it a C*nt.

—————-

This young rich man was looking for a wife, and had narrowed
his choices down to 3 women. He couldn’t make up his mind on which
one he should marry, so he tested them. He gave each women $5,000
to see what they would spend it on. The first woman went out, bought
furs and jewels, and blew all the money on herself. The second woman
put half of it in the bank, and spent the rest of it on herself. The
third woman bought herself a dress, and many, many gifts for the young
man.
Given these facts, which woman do you think the young man
married?

answer: The woman with the biggest tits, of course!

——————

Chemical Analysis

Element : Woman
Symbol : WO
Discoverer : Adam
…End of the part2. To be continued..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,
Sadie.

OFFICIAL CODE SHEET

It has been brought to the attention of the Management there is
extensive use of foul and/or abusive language in the exchange of normal
verbal communication during the course of routine activities pertaining
to the completion of our day-to-day routine. In order to alleviate this
horrendous situation and, at the same time, not impinge on the
individual freedom and originality of our workers, the following numbers
shall be henceforth uttered in lieu of the catchy phrases listed beside
each number.

101 – You got to be shitting me
102 – Get off my fucking back
103 – Beats the shit outa me
104 – What the fuck?
105 – It’s so fucking bad, I can’t believe it
106 – I hate this fucking place
107 – This place sucks
108 – Fuck you very much
109 – Lovely, just fucking lovely
110 – Beautiful, just fucking beautiful
111 – Fuck, shit, piss
112 – I just got fucked
113 – Big fucking deal
114 – Hang it in your fucking ear
115 – Get bent
116 – Ram it, cram it, and rotate it rapidly to the right
117 – Fan-fucking-tastic/Far-fucking-out
118 – Fuck it, just fuck it
119 – Hot shit
120 – Bitching
121 – Tell someone who gives a shit
122 – Don’t get fucking wise
123 – I don’t give a fuck
124 – I didn’t design the fucking thing, I just installed the
Mother Fucker
125 – Kiss my ass
126 – Your ass
127 – It won’t fucking work
128 – Fuck off
129 – Go pound sand in your ass
130 – Who called this fucking meeting, anyway?
131 – You are fucked up beyond all repair
132 – Where the fuck is my drink?
133 – Fuck you
134 – Shove this fucking place up your ass
135 – Oh shit
136 – Go fuck yourself
137 – Up yours
138 – Shove it, you son-of-a-bitch
139 – Answer your fucking phone
140 – Answer your own fucking phone
141 – Half-assed, two-bit, mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch
142 – Fuckin’ A
143 – What a chickenshit outfit
144 – Cram it up your ass
145 – Eat me
146 – That’s un-fucking believable
147 – Your ass sucks canal water
148 – Pardon me – you obviously mistook me for someone who gives
a shit
149 – You’re stroking my bird (var. choking my chicken, waxing
my carrot)
150 – Blow it out your ass

Acronyms:

FUPITA – FUcking Pain In The Ass

SNAFU – Situation Normal All Fucked Up

FUBAR – Fucked Up Beyond All Repair

BOHICA – Bend Over – Here It Comes Again

–

Even under the covers I could see the outline of her sexy
stomach. Earlier she said it could never be flat enough, never
right. She was wrong!! It was perfectly sexy, wonderfully warm,
always sensual. My lips traced along the edges of her stomach,
then down the center. I could tell she wanted me to move lower,
but not too fast. It was a delicious place to be.

I moved lower, touching her legs, letting my body caress her
where my hands and lips could not.

What a soft, sensitive area I have found! My lips caressed the
edge of her mons, lightly kissing around the edge of her
triangle. Teasing, I slid my tongue along the line formed by her
legs meeting her torso. It was so sexy to feel her writhe when I
did that. Like an iceskater on an empty lake, I let my tongue
draw circles, curves and curly-q’s over her mons, then down
lower, maddeningly close to her magic button.

Her scent filled my nostrils, filling me with an urgent desire. I
knew I wanted her, but I wanted us both to ride higher before we
consumed each other. Reluctantly I left her luscious mound,
licking and kissing my way down her succulent thigh. My hand
roamed ever so lightly over her other thigh. I alternated the
touch of my lips. Left, right, left, right. I could feel her
enjoying it, letting herself float on the feelings.

She felt my lips on the back of her knee, my hand slide down her
shapely calf. Her sexy legs, taut and shapely. Doing just what I
wanted as they wrapped around my ears, locked behind my back, and
pulled my face tighter against her pussy.

I worked my way up her other leg, alternating between kissing her
inner thigh on one side, then the other. It felts like my lips
were walking up between her legs, searching for that place that
would make her feel so good.

My hands slid over her legs, upwards, to hold her flaring hips.
At last I let her feel my hot, steamy breathe, right between her
legs, right where it should be. A jolt shocked her as my tongue
touched just to the right of her pussy, licking slowly, ever so
slowly upwards. I could feel her tighten, breathing harder as I
moved closer to the top of her pussy.

I moved to the other side. Again using long, slow stroking tongue
pressure, warm, and damp, as I licked the inside of that thigh
too, just below her pussy, teasing her tingling skin. Heat from
her pussy flooded my face, humid, full of her scent. It made my
mouth water, made me hard, made me want her even more.

I used just the tip of my tongue, held hard and pointed, I let it
gently part the folds of her flower, I tasted her as I rose
slowly upwards. I stopped, momentarily, just below her aching
clit, I teased her for a second longer. Then she felt my tongue,
circling her clit, flicking it lightly back and forth, up and
down. At once her loins were ablaze with marvelous electric
jolts. They jerked outwards, welcoming me.

My tongue dived in, lapping up the slippery cream that flowed
from her, as I circled her entrance, flicking and feathering up
her slit until it began circling her clit. I could feel her body
stiffening, feel her legs stretching out. I wanted her to lock
her legs over my back and pull my face tight. To let me make her
cum, to let me taste her deeply, to feel her spasm and tremble. I
wanted to feel her legs clamping around my head.

Oh God! She’d be so sexy when she cums like that, her hands on my
head, her soft, sexy buns cupped in my hands, her legs tight
around me. I loved to taste her, to lick her as she cums, to feel
her pussy spasm against my face. Best of all, I liked to look up
and see her smiling dreamily.

From there, our evening could have gone any direction and it
would have suited me.

We could have just lain and cuddled, or she could have rolled
onto her stomach, relaxing while I slowly made love to her.
Or, this could have been a night when she wrapped her legs around
me and pulled me deep into her pussy, both of us staring deep
into each other’s eyes.

Who knows, this might be one of those times when she wants to
give to me. Where she climbs on top, and makes me lie still so
she can drive me crazy. Or, this might be one of those happy
times where she lies between my legs, sucking and teasing me as I
did to her, making me crazy by wrapping herself around me, her
lips reaching for the base of my cock, showing me how much she
enjoys giving me pleasure too.

“Eric,” she said softly, there in the darkness, would you be mad
if I asked you to quit eating me?”

“Mad….. I don’t think so. I’d just place you under arrest for
resisting…”

“Ohhhh, resisting is the last thing on my mind… I promise.”

I lifted my face from her juicy box, and slid up over her, still
between her wide-spread knees. When my head passed her chest, I
slowed momentarily… Well, maybe a little longer, to give each
of her nipples a lick and a tug. Her pelvis rocked, in time with
my nibbles, and her sharp fingernails raked my back.

As my face was about even with hers, I felt her arm and hand
snake down, grab my cannon, and guide it into her. This time was
even better than by the picnic table. Not that there was
anything wrong with taking her from behind…. Oh no! That was
a definite ‘do again’. But, this was more intimate, less frantic.

I pressed the head passed the muscular ring, and sank into her
hot wet center, and paused, enjoying the sensation. Her breasts
were squashed almost flat under my chest, our bellies were tight
together, and we were fully joined at the crotch. A very time-
honored position.

My hips pressed forward, driving me deeper, and then withdrew,
and then repeated the thrust, withdrawal, thrust, withdrawal. I
felt her heels slide up the backs of my thighs, pressing me
slightly deeper with each plunge.

I could hear her breathing, faster and faster as the beast with
two backs writhed on my bed.

“Up on your elbows, Eric, please…. I can’t breathe.”

I took some of my weight off her chest, and looked down into her
eyes, that were wide and staring. “Better?” I asked.

“Oh, yesss,” she gasped, as I continued to ride her.

Her ankles had moved higher, and now were wrapped around the
small of my back, and her legs were actively involved in driving
me as deep as possible with each thrust. My head dropped , and I
looked between our bodies, toward where we were joined in the
shadows, and the bounce and sway of her firm mammaries captured
my attention.

She was moving freely under me in that split-second between
the withdrawal and the beginning of a new plunge, and I could
feel her muscles ripple around my cock. Her legs helped propel
me forward, her pelvis rocked, and I drove in, and struck bottom.

She gasped, and then we did it again, over and over. The tip of
my cock would bump something deep inside her, she would gasp,
and her pussy would flutter.

We were both getting to the short stokes. There was a glow to
her face and a flush across her chest and neck, and my balls were
tingling, and my cock was swelling. I think she started just a
…End of the part9. To be continued..

The way they were carrying on, he had to be careful, but not
silent, as he moved around in the dark. Smoothly, he lifted the
camera to his eye, and cranked off about 5 shots. Each of them
from a slightly different perspective, and all of them making use
of the close-up capability of the zoom lens. Oh, yeah…….
Some mighty hot shots.

=====================================================================

“Wait… Let me breathe, you bastard!” she grinned down at me.

I had to think for a second about letting WHO breathe. I mean,
it was my nose and mouth that she was pressing into her pulsating
gash. And then I understood. It was that last orgasm that
seemed to grow larger and more all encompassing, as it crashed
through her like a surfer’s dream wave at Wakiki.

“Break time?” I asked, as I rested my face on her thigh, and
trailed my fingers through her thick blonde thatch.

“No, you son-of-a-bitch,” she laughed quietly. “It’s time for
the main event.” She turned and in two steps was sitting on the
picnic table. One foot resting on the bench seat, and the other
planted on the table top. “That is…. If you’re you’re not all
mouth.”

She motioned for me to move off the bench, and I did. I slid
off, and took a step back, as she scooted forward, and sat,
facing me, in the same spot I had just vacated.

I was standing between her wide-spread knees, so it was no
problem for me to reach out and pull her head against my belly.
She rested there for a few moments, and then she leaned back and
reached for my belt.

With sure, deliberate motions, I was unbuckled and unzipped. My
trousers went south, landing in twin wrinkled piles around my
ankles. My boxers went next.

She reached out, and placed her hand, palm up, under ‘Old
Faithful’, and just let him lie there.

“Eric, this is not a snub-nosed pistol. It’s a cannon.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I answered breathlessly. (I mean, it’s
hard (pardon the expression) not to be breathless when you’re
standing between a naked lady’s knees, and she’s complimenting
you on the caliber of your weapon as well as the length of it’s
barrel).

She leaned forward, running the tip of her tongue around the
head, and then sucked about half it’s length into her mouth. Her
tongue was doing the Tango, or the Cha Cha, as her firm lips
massaged it. I, having nothing better to do with them, put my
hands on the back of her head, and tried to help her with the
back and forth, in and out, up and down…

“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed around my joint, as her eyes
flashed up at me. Her words were really more like ‘owww, nough
jew doughwwnt’, but I got the message. Instead of ‘helping’ I
started stroking that long blonde hair.

=====================================================================

Leon knew the pictures were going to be great. Him going
down on her, and then her trying to suck start his Harley. The
photos would give him many nights of pleasant memories, and a
little something to use if this detective ever tried running a
game on him.

=====================================================================

Candice knew exactly what she was doing down there. More than
once she had me close to the brink, but she slowed down, and let
me recover. Then she started giving me head in earnest. Pumping
with her lips, tickling with her tongue, and cupping my balls
with one hand as her sharp finger nails raked my inner thighs.

Suddenly she stopped, and said, “We’ll do it like this later. I
want you to cum in me the first time…”

Was I mad? Was I disappointed? Hell no!! Face is face, but
pussy is pussy….. And given a choice, the fuzzy clam will win
EVERY time.

I stepped back, and Candice stood up momentarily. I say
momentarily, because that’s about how long it took for her to
turn around, spread her long beautiful legs, bend at the waist,
and present her gorgeous sculpted ass. Even in the subdued
light, her pussy glistened with her juice. I stepped up to the
plate.

My bat was in her box (to continue the simile), and I pressed
on (at least in). She shifted her weight from leg to leg
as I penetrated her pussy. When I had been completely engulfed,
I withdrew, until only the tiniest edge of the tip remained
inside, and then slowly entered her again. A perfect fit!

As I pounded into her I heard mewing sounds, gasps, groans and I
think at least one ‘OOOhhhh GGoddddddd!’ My hips were jerking
back and forth in an ancient rhythm, providing a driving bass
beat, while she maintained the tempo, and pulsed wildly following
a slightly different but VERY complimentary score. The composer
was a master, because instead of slowing, the beat got faster and
wilder, as we both drove toward a crashing crescendo.

My balls tightened, my cock swelled (and she commented) and then
gushed – over and over, shooting streams of hot sperm deep into
her pussy, that spasmed and milked me with muscular contractions.

When our climaxes (climaxi ?) had passes, I stayed buried deep
inside her hot box, thrusting minutely, not wanting the moment to
pass… Finally, she said, “Okay, Eric… You’ll need a few
minutes to recover, before you can do THAT again. Let’s rest
someplace where we won’t get splinters in our asses.”

We dressed, more or less, because Candice was still wearing only
my raincoat, fired up the Chevy and drove back toward the Broken
Drum. It was awfully quiet in the car, as we both seemed alone
with our thoughts. My right hand was entwined with hers as I
steered with my left, and her head rested softly on my shoulder.

“Mmmmmm, that was nice,” she said softly when were a block or so
from the ‘Drum’.

“Sure was,” I answered, as my eyes flicked up to the rear view
mirror. I thought I’d seen a car following us when we turned off
the airport bypass onto the highway.

“Everything all right? You seem awfully quiet? she asked.

“No, everything’s fine… In fact wonderful,” I replied. “I’m
just having a hard time believing this evening.”

“Me too,” she said. Then in a little firmer voice she continued,
“I suppose it’s back to the wife and rug-rats for you.”

It wasn’t a question. But, it did demand an answer, so I gave
her one. “Nope… It’s back to my apartment for a couple of
drinks and then to bed.”

“Alone…… I can’t believe that.”

“It’s true… ”

…End of the part7. To be continued..

Why don’t men trust women?

Would _you_ trust anything that bled for three days and didn’t die?

–

Ive been seeing lots of requests for the old beer is better posts
so here they are along with (for the women folk of course) all
about cucumbers.

======================but first=====================================
A Sunday school teacher was telling her class about the difference between
right and wrong.

“All right children, let’s take another example,” she said. “If I were to
get into a man’s pocket and take his billfold with all his money, what would
I be?”

A little girl raised her hand, and said, “You’d be his wife.”
======================its true its true=============================

25 GOOD REASONS WHY BEER IS BETTER THAN WOMEN

1. You can enjoy a beer all month long
2. Beer stains wash out
3. You don’t have to wine and dine beer
4. Your beer will always wait patiently for you in
the car while you play baseball
5. When you beer goes flat, you toss it out
6. Hangovers go away
7. A beer lables come off without a fight
8. Beer is never late
9. Beer doesn’t get jealous when you grab another beer
10. When you go to a bar, you know you can always
pick up a beer
11. Beer never gets a headache
12. After you’ve had a beer, the bottle is still worth
5 cents
13. A beer won’t get upset if you come home and have
another beer
14. If you pour a beer right, you’ll always get good
head
15. A beer always goes down easy
16. You can have more than one beer a night and not
feel guilty
17. You can share a beer with your friends
18. You always know you’re the first one to pop a
beer
19. Beer is always wet
20. Beer doesn’t demand equality
21. You can have a beer in public
22. A beer doesn’t care when you come
23. A frigid beer is a good beer
24. You don’t have to wash a beer before it taste
good
25. If you change beers you don’t have to pay
alimony

86 REASONS WHY A BEER IS BETTER THAN A MAN

1. A beer makes life easier.
2. A beer NEVER leaves the toilet seat up.
3. A beer lasts longer than seven seconds.
4. A beer doesn’t want to watch pro wrestling.
5. A beer won’t expect you to cook dinner when you’re
not hungry.
6. A beer will never leave dirty socks on the floor.
7. A beer will never expect you to sit in the wet spot
IT makes.
8. A beer doesn’t care if you go shopping.
9. A beer doesn’t mind when your mother visits.
10. A beer does as many chores as a man, with a LOT less
complaining.
11. A beer won’t leave you for a younger woman.
12. A beer won’t leave you for a younger man either.
13. You don’t have to worry about getting AIDS from a bisexual beer.
14. Having a beer can’t make you pregnant.
15. A beer won’t tease you because you once liked Barry Manilow.
16. A beer will never smell like a man.
17. A beer doesn’t wouldn’t trade you in on a sports car.
18. If a beer did have a sports car, it wouldn’t love it more than you.
19. A beer doesn’t want to go out alone with the other beers.
20. A beer doesn’t sulk.
21. A beer wouldn’t waste its money on Playbeer magazine.
22. A beer won’t switch the TV channel.
23. A beer doesn’t have to sleep with the windows open.
24. A beer doesn’t snore.
25. A beer can’t interrupt.
26. A beer doesn’t care that you can’t find your car’s carburator.
27. A beer doesn’t think black leather bikinis are neat.
28. A beer doesn’t belch.
29. Or fart.
30. A beer doesn’t mind having pantyhose dry in the bathroom.
31. A beer doesn’t care that you don’t balance your checkbook.
32. A good beer is easy to find.
33. Tall, dark, good-looking beers are common.
34. A beer can’t pout.
35. A beer doesn’t have a mother.
36. A beer doesn’t have friends who will drink your beer.
37. A beer wouldn’t yell if you dented the car.
38. A beer won’t get jealous if you enjoy another beer.
39. A beer won’t even mind if you have another six pack.
40. A beer doesn’t buy everything labelled “turbo”.
41. A beer won’t care if you gain five pounds.
42. A beer will be there for anytime of the month.
43. A beer doesn’t want children.
44. A beer doesn’t think poetry is queer.
45. A beer isn’t ready until you’re ready.
46. If the beer is finished before you are, you can have another beer.
47. A beer can’t talk about the women who had it before you.
48. Hangovers go away.
49. A beer tastes good.
50. Having a beer doesn’t make you want to take a shower.
51. A beer would never leave hair in the bottom of the bathtub.
52. A beer is never late.
53. A beer will never invite friends home for dinner without calling.
54. A beer’s life does not revolve around the world series.
55. A beer won’t think less of you if you can’t name the Steelers’
quarterback.
56. A beer won’t even act amazed if you can.
57. A beer would never make fun of your new outfit.
58. A beer never needs a shave.
59. You don’t have to let a beer win.
60. A beer doesn’t care what toppings you get on the pizza.
61. Just because you have dinner with a beer doesn’t mean you
have to sleep with a beer too.
62. A beer doesn’t have morning breath.
63. A beer never wants to go to the drag races.
64. A beer is happy to go where ever you want to go.
65. A beer helps with the houswork.
66. A beer will never drink the last beer.
67. A beer will never fumble with your bra.
68. You can’t get herpes from a beer.
69. A beer will never take the newspaper apart before you’ve read it.
70. A beer always lets you read the Sunday comics first.
71. A beer is seldom messy.
72. When a beer is finished, it doesn’t roll over and go to sleep.
73. After you’ve had a beer, all you’re committed to doing is
throwing out the container.
74. A beer container is recyclable.
75. A beer wouldn’t mind if you wanted it to wear a condom.
76. A beer will NEVER call you “Babe”. Or “Sugar”.
77. A beer is never tempermental.
78. A beer will never complain about your cooking.
79. A cold beer is a good beer.
80. A beer is not kinky unless you want it to be kinky.
81. A beer will never worry about losing its hair.
82. A big, fat beer is nice to have.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

** 016
Bill had just returned from a week of honeymooning, and his
best friend asked him how it went. “The first night we did
it nine times,” Bill said.”The second night, eight times.
The third night, seven times. The fourth night, six times.
The fifth night, five times. The sixth night, four times,
and the last night, nothing!”
“Nothing?” his pal asked. “How come?”
“Hey, you ever tried putting a marshmallow in a parking meter?”

** 017
A man who smelled like a distillery flopped on a subway seat
next to a priest. The man’s tie was stained, his face was
plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin
was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his
newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the
disheveled guy turned to the priest and asked, “Say, Father,
what causes arthritis?”
“Mister, it’s caused by loose living, being with cheap,
wicked women, too much alcohol and a contempt for your
fellow man.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the drunk muttered, returning to his
paper. The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged
the man and apologized.
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. How
long have you had arthritis?”
“I don’t have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.”

** 018
Two high-school buddies were attending the senior prom.
“Suzy wants to go out to my car. She’s really hot,” one boy
said. “I’m really nervous. I know I’ll goof up!”
“Take it easy,” his friend assured him. “All you gotta do is
compliment her. Chicks love to be complemented. You’ll have
her in the palm of your hand.”
About a half-hour later the young man came back, rubbing a black
eye. “Shit, man! What happened to you?!” his buddy asked.
“I took your advice.”
“Didn’t you compliment her?”
“sure I did. We got in my car and started kissing. I told
her that for such full lips, hers sure tasted sweet. She
liked that. After a while I started feeling her tits, and I
told her that for such large breasts they sure were firm.
She like that too.”
“It sounds like you were doing great,” his friend said.
“Well,” the other answered, “that’s when everything went
wrong. I got her dress up and her panties off, and I tried
to think of another compliment.”
“What did you say?”
“For such a large crack, it doesn’t stink much.”

** 019
While sports fishing off the Florida coast, a tourist
capsized his boat. He could swim, but his fear of alligators
kept him clinging to the overturned craft. Spotting and old
beachcomber standing on the shore, the tourist shouted,”Are
there any gators around here?!”
“Naw,” the man hollered back, “they ain’t been around for
years!” “Feeling safe, the tourist started swimming
leisurely toward the shore. About halfway there he asked the
guy,”How’d you get rid of the gators?”
“We didn’t do nothin’,” the beachcomber said.
“The sharks got ‘em.”

** 020
A gambler was telling a friend about his first junket to Las
Vegas and how hard it was to get any sleep. “I was awakened
at one, two and four in the morning by a drunk chorus girl
banging on the door and screaming,” he recalled.
“That’s terrible,” the friend said.” How’d you ever get any
sleep?” “At five o’clock I finally unlocked the door and
let her out,” the gambler laughed.

** 021
Two ferocious cannibal chiefs sat licking their fingers
after a large meal. “Your wife makes a delicious roast,”one
chief said. “Thanks,” his friend said.”I’m gonna miss her.”

** 022
From the outset, the blind date was a fiasco and it was
intensified by the fact that the fellow was too insensitive
and ego-ridden to realize it. The moment of truth came in
the supper club as he clutched the girl’s thigh and
whispered, “Baby, how’s about our cutting out to my pad so I
can slip you nine inches?”
There was a moment of silence, and then the girl said, “You
know, I really don’t think you could get it up three times
in a row!”

** 023
After a wild freeway chase, the motorcycle cop waved the
speeding sports car over to the curb. When he walked up to
the drivers window, he was surprised to find a very
attractive redhead behind the wheel. “Ma’am,” he said .”I’m
afraid we’re going to have to give you a Breathalyzer test
to see whether or not you’ve been drinking.”
The test was taken and as the officer eyed the results, he
said, “Lady, you’ve had a couple of stiff ones.”
“That’s amazing!”the girl cried.”You mean it shows that,too!”

** 024
The blind daters had really hit it off and at the end of the
evening, as they were beginning to undress each other in his
apartment, the fellow said, “Before we go any further,
Charmaine, tell me – do you have any special fetishes that I
should take into account in bed?”
“As a matter of fact,” smiled the girl, “I do happen to have
a foot fetish -but I suppose I’d settle for maybe seven or eight inches.”

** 025
Visiting a lawyer for advice, the wife said, “I want you to
help me obtain a divorce. My husband is getting a little
queer to sleep with.”
“What do you mean?” asked the attorney. “Does he force you
to indulge in unusual sex practices?”
“No, he doesn’t,” replied the woman, “and neither does the little queer.”

** 026
The nervous young bride became irritated by her husband’s
lusty advances on their wedding night and reprimanded him
severely. “I demand proper manners in bed,” she declared,
“just as I do at the dinner table.”
Amused by his wife’s formality, the groom smoothed his
rumpled hair and climbed quietly between the sheets. “Is
that better?” he asked, with a hint of a smile.”
“Yes,” replied the girl, “much better.”
“Very good, darling,” the husband whispered. “Now would you
be so kind as to please pass the pussy.”

** 027
It was a warm, sunny Sunday, so a man and his wife decided
to take in the zoo. They spent the day, and at closing time
they walked past the gorilla cage, and the man noticed the
gorilla looking at his wife.
“That gorilla is getting excited just looking at your tits,”
he said. “Why don’t you take your blouse off and we’ll see
what he does?” At first she declined. But finally persuaded by
her husband, she took off her blouse and bra. The gorilla went
nuts. He started grunting and jumping up and down. “Hey,” the
husband said, “let’s really blow his mind. Take off all your clothes
and we’ll see what he does.” Again she said no and again he persuaded her.
This time theape really went bananas! He climbed up and down the bars,
did flips, ran around in circles and tossed his food all
over the cage. The husband went over to the cage, opened the door and
pushed his wife in. “Now,” said the husband, “tell that
…End of the part2. To be continued..