Author: Arthur Kay Title: FantasySex.Com Summary: Timmy Case is in for
a surprise when he volunteers for a Glory Hole scenario as part of his
job at FantasySex.Com.  Keywords: Humor, MF, M+F

WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language.  If you are a minor (under 21) or if you
are offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading
now.  Any resemblance between this story and a real event is
coincidental.  The participants are imaginary; their actions have no
negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story.  The
story is intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the
real world.

FantasySex.Com

by Arthur Kay

Maybe you've heard of FantasySex.Com, maybe not.  Maybe you even used
their services at one time or another, maybe not.  Whatever the case,
they sure do a booming business in the sexual fantasy trade.  Any
sexual fantasy, however wild, however kinky, is within their
bailiwick.  All anyone has to do is ask for it, pay the steep fees,
and their fantasy can become a harmless reality.  Their motto is: You
dream it, we'll scheme it! Anything goes--as long as no one gets hurt,
that is.

But, friend, there are many different kinds of hurt now, aren't there?

Joe Wade looked at the new assignment sheet in front of him.  As
Production Director, it was up to Wade to set up each fantasy
scenario.  He had to gather the "cast" and, if desired by the
customer, have a video crew in place.  And most folks were willing to
pay the extra fees necessary to have their own personal, take-it-home-
and-watch-it-over-and-over, DVD video digital copy.  This particular
scenario was no exception.

Wade read: Harry D., a 25 year old white guy, blond hair, blue eyes,
5' 7" tall, 145 lbs., married, 2 kids, wanted to be in a "prison"
setting with five or six big and rough black dudes.  They were all to
be well endowed, with no one having smaller than eight inches.

It was to be his first night on the "cellblock" and the black guys
were to immediately size him up as a piece of new jailhouse meat.
They were to "punk" him and "turn him out." Make him their "male
prison slut" for at least four hours, five if it could be managed.  He
wanted to be treated roughly, harshly, cruelly, totally degraded and
humiliated--but not hurt physically.  They were to be extremely
forceful, but not the least harmful.

In the initial stage, he was to be forced to shave all the hair off
his legs, arms, underarms, chest, and crotch.  In essence, making him
more girlish.  He was to be forced to wear a red garter belt, nipple
clamps, and perfume.  These were to be supplied by the client.  Wade
had told the client that all such things were part of the FantasySex
price, but for some reason, the guy wanted to use his own items.

After the initial stage was completed, he was to be "forced" to his
knees and ordered to suck their big black cocks.  One of the guys was
to be chosen to play the gang leader and was to be called Banger.  He
even had a rough draft of a script Banger was to follow.  Banger was
to say things along the lines of:

"When we shoot our loads you better swallow it all, you cocksucking
faggot.  You understand?  I don't want to see even one drop of our cum
hit the floor.  You got that?"

And, "Suck it nice and slow, girl, to show me how much you love my big
black cock because your white ass belongs to the black man now!"

And, "Deep-throat my big black prick, you fucking cocksucking pussy!
And when I shoot, you'd better swallow it all and not spill a drop!"

And, "Keep your eyes open, cocksucker.  I want you looking at hairy
black crotches.  I'll be sneaking peeks at you and if I catch you with
your eyes closed you're getting a beating."

And, "Put your hands on his ass cheeks and pull him to you as you suck
him off."

And, "Suck his balls, real good!  Get them good and wet!"

Wade wondered just how well the "Banger" would do when it came to
remembering his lines, especially in the heat of the action.  Oh,
well, he thought, as long as he comes even close, the client will
probably never notice.

The client also was to be "forced" to take their cocks up his ass.
Simultaneously with his being mouth fucked, at some point in the game.
He referred to this dual action as getting "spit roasted." As before,
the lube was to be provided by the client.

Each black guy was to drop two loads.  One in the client's mouth and
one in his ass.  The first, the mouth loads, was an absolute that he
insisted be fulfilled.  It was okay if the guys had to fake cumming in
his ass, he understood that, but he was adamant about the mouth loads.
He wanted it guaranteed that he'd swallow six loads, by six guys, and
no less.

And the kid even had a basic script for the rest of the gang, too.  He
wanted them to use words like "faggot" and "cocksucker" and whatever
else they could ad-lib that was in the humiliation vein.

Wade could see it now.  Being unprofessional actors, who don't exactly
have their timing down pat, he could picture six black guys all
yelling, "faggot cocksucker" at the same time!  Shit, he thought, add
some music and you could dance to it.

Wade remembered a past scenario where a petite housewife wanted the
eight guys, who were playing her school chums, to call her "slut" and
"whore" during the action.  What a mess that was!  Wade, playing one
of her chums, probably heard "Slutty whore!" a hundred times that
night.  It had almost turned into a cheerleading chant!  Gimme an S!
The amazing thing was, the housewife later sent him a note saying how
perfect she thought everything went, how it was way beyond her
expectations.  Go figure.

This particular "prison" client also wanted to play "Ride the Whip" in
which he would sit on Banger's lap, Banger's dick fully up his ass,
and be "forced" to suck off the other guys, one after the other.  Was
it to be filmed?  But of course.  8pm tonight was to be the Showtime. 
In studio 5. Make that cellblock 5.

Wade looked at a penciled-in note along the margin: If it's OK, this
guy also wants the black dudes to piss in his mouth.  And he wants
Banger to say: "Swallow all our piss, punk.  One drop hits the floor
and your ass is getting a hurt put on it!" Or something to that
effect.  It was initialed KG.  That would be Kendra Gooding, a
customer relation's woman.

To inspire them to pee, the client was bringing his own brand of
imported beer.  The men were to drink just enough beer to get them
pissing, but not enough to stop them from cumming.  One thing about
this client, Wade thought, he knows what he wants.

Wade put his OK on it.

Many guys, even some gals, had wanted the same pee-in-my-mouth thing
before.  It was becoming a somewhat popular request.  Water Sports
they called it.  Perhaps, he thought, I should add it to our Website. 
As a special feature.  For the truly discriminating "taste"!  An
acquired "taste" at that.  Maybe with free beer tossed in.  Hmmm.  He
tossed the word "taste" around in his mind a few more times: "Taste
this!  It's piss!" and "Don't be hasty, piss is tasty!" and his
favorite . . .  so far, "Piss tastes like sweet cum that's been
marinated in vinegar!" Classy, he thought. Should appeal to the gay
male crowd.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, for now, Wade hollered over
toward Becky Ryan, his assistant cast coordinator, "Becky, how's Benny
Gee coming with those black guys from his crew for the prison bit?
Showtime's at 8, you know."

"No prob, Joe, Benny's got six big black prisoner-types all lined up
and ready to go.  They'll be on the set at 7:30 sharp, awaiting
further instructions.  No guy has less than eight inches, as the
client requested."

Wade nodded as he turned back to his desk and put a check mark next to
5-6 black men.  Good old Benny Gee.  He had never let him down.  And
he knew Benny's crew would have no problems over pissing down a young
white boy's throat, either.  No problems, whatsoever.

Wade wondered how Benny Gee checked out the crews' peckers for length
verification.  Did he just take their word for it?  Probably not.
Knowing Benny, and what a perfectionist he was, Wade pictured him,
ruler in hand, yelling "Next!" Wade made a mental note to ask Benny
the next time he saw him.  Should be good for a laugh or two.

Wade had used Benny's crew many times before, especially with white
women, married or not, who wanted to dabble with some exotic black
meat. Black gangbangs were hot right now, the "in" thing for bored,
rich white women to try out.  And the gals always wanted the men to be
VWE, very well endowed.  Gay men were quickly jumping on the
bandwagon, too.  Yeah, Wade thought, black cock was a hot ticket item
right now.

Hell, at a recent cocktail party, he'd overheard a gorgeous, married
white woman say, to four of her chichi girlfriends, "You'll never
guess what happened to me, girls!  I was gangbanged last weekend by
seven rough virile black men." She winked at the girls and then
whispered.  "And, they were so very well endowed, I'm still cumming!
Tee hee."

With the video crew on standby, and a rough-hewn "prison" setting in
place, this scenario was just about a done deal.  All it needed now
was the star performer, the blond jailhouse "punk" kid who had a deep
craving for black dick, black cum, and a few quarts of beer-laden
black piss.

Wade was surprised at how fast the humiliation scenario was catching
on, especially among straight white men.  There seemed to be some need
in them to be totally subservient to other men.  To be used,
humiliated, debased, a cum receptacle for rough and horny, manly type
men.  The guys being black seemed to add to the humiliation picture.

And, Wade thought, it seemed to have more to do with a desire to lose,
or concede, some of their power than it had to do with any latent gay
tendencies.  Similar to the CEO who goes to a hooker who specializes
in degradation techniques.  "Spank me, Momma, I've been a naughty
boy!" Yeah, a psychologist could have a field day with this shit.

Wade didn't ponder any further the psychological aspect of this new
phenomenon.  As far as he was concerned, whatever the reason, it was
good for the business.

Wade placed the "prison" assignment sheet face down on the works in
progress pile, entered the pertinent information into his computer,
and checked out the next fantasy request sheet.

Martha C., a 50ish white woman, gray hair, blue eyes, 5' 3" tall,
married.  It was a thirtieth anniversary present from the hubby.
Seems the old gal had heard about glory holes and had found the idea
sexually irresistible.  A real turn on for her.  She wanted to
experience what it felt like to have 10 to 12 strange men, unseen by
her, stick their cocks through a hole in a wooden board and have her
suck them off from the other side.  And, as she was a prominent
citizen, there was to be video of only the side the men were on.  And,
as hubby had put it, lots of close-ups, please, especially of her lips
and their cocks.  Happy anniversary, my dear! Enjoy!

The glory hole "set" was already checked off as they had done this
scenario many times before.  It was quite popular, especially among
gay men. The video guy was prepped and had his instructions.  All that
remained was coming up with a gang of men.  So far he had eleven "for
sures" lined up.  Hubby had been quite adamant that it be at least
ten, but preferably twelve, if it could be managed.  Money, he had
said, was no object.

He would have tapped Benny Gee for a twelfth, but the husband had
stipulated that because this was his wife's first time with anyone but
him, he didn't want to take the chance on her panicking by introducing
black into the equation.  Neither one of them were, he said, the least
bit prejudice, but, and in spite of her saying she wouldn't be upset
by having black men present, he didn't want to take the chance.  Wade
understood. He'd met this kind of weird reasoning before.  Oh, well,
he thought, it's their party.

Wade knew they would accept the eleven he had, but if he could find a
twelfth, why not make them happy?  Besides, he prided himself on his
ability to please a customer.  And it meant an extra fee, which sure
didn't hurt the bottom line.

He'd volunteer himself except he had to play at being a Hell's Angel
type as part of a young married couple's "kidnap and gangbang"
fantasy. Complete with her young hubby, tied up and gagged, watching
it all take place before his helpless eyes.  And filmed, to be sure.
A birthday present from the hubby to his sweet, young wife of one
year.

The couple were to be "kidnapped" from an elevator in this very
building, blindfolded, and taken to studio 1, which had been set up to
look like a cheap saloon, complete with sawdust on the floor.  With
motorcycle gang paraphernalia showing here and there, the scenario
called for exactly ten "gang" members, no more, no less.  It, for some
strange reason, had to be exactly ten.  Amazing, he thought, what is
important to some folks.

The husband was to be trussed, hands and feet, with duct tape, and a
piece of it across his mouth as a gag.  The wife was to be "gently"
slapped a few times and then forced to do a striptease to the song
Born To Be Wild. When her dance was done and she was totally nude, she
was to get on her knees, alongside hubby.  The "gang" was to then form
a circle around her and the helpless hubby.

The gang was then to "slowly" strip naked and have her go from cock to
cock, clockwise around the circle, sucking them all off until each one
had cum a load in her mouth.  She was to spit each load into a large
glass. When the last cum load was in the glass, hubby's gag was to be
removed and he and she, taking turns, was to be made to drink the
glass dry.

She was then going to be gang raped on a dirty old bare mattress that
was lying on the sawdust floor.  The couple was even going to supply
the mattress!  Where they got the damned thing from, Wade could only
wonder. But it didn't surprise him that they had specified they wanted
to take the cum-soaked thing home with them.

The "gang" was to single, double, and triple penetrate the wifey.  And
use her in any other way human creativity could dream up.  For three
full days and nights.  With breaks only for food, toilet, and whatnot.
On days two and three, the entire gang of ten was to be replaced with
ten new guys. Because this entailed having thirty men available, Wade
had tapped Benny Gee, with approval from the clients, of course.

"Black, schmack!" the wife had said when asked about it.  "As long as
they're rough and tough, I don't care." Wade now had eighteen white
guys and twelve black.

According to the couple's attached notes, they were still considering
a few other ideas.  It read like a shopping list!  Like whether or not
hubby should also get some motorcycle gang cock in his mouth and ass. 
Or if they should be forced to have sex with each other on the dirty
mattress, with the gang cheering them on.  If so, at what time during
the action?  Should pissing take place?  Should hubby be forced to
masturbate?  Etc, etc, etc. These kids were in a quandary, faced the
endless possibilities.  They'd let Wade know an hour before shoot
time.

The weirder point, Wade noted, was no protection was to be used and
the wife was not on the pill.  The couple had expressed their hopes
that she would become pregnant by one of the men, while never knowing
which one.

Wade guessed the husband was barren and this was their way to have a
kid. Perhaps, he mused, they'd get a turn on every time they looked at
the child, a reminder of their kidnap and gangbang weekend.  An FBI
profiler would probably call that taking a "souvenir" home with them. 
Ah, well, Wade thought, different strokes for different folks.  None
of my beeswax. I just gotta make 'em happy.

While trying to conjure up in his mind where he was going to get the
twelfth for the glory hole bit, he spotted Timmy Case, a new kid at
the firm.  Why not?  he thought.  The kid could probably use the extra
dough.

"Hey, Timmy, come over here a sec, willya?" Timmy sauntered over to
Wade's desk and stood there looking young and restless.  As he shifted
his weight from one foot to the other, he asked Wade, "What's up,
boss?"

Wade had seen Timmy in filmed action of one of those popular
"innocent-girl-does-Dallas" fantasies where she takes on the entire
football team--in a locker room.  An often-requested scenario.  You
could have the "coach," thrown in, too--if it was so desired.  This
scenario had many variations, such as coachie buys the boys a hooker
for winning an important game.  Or, the innocent woman reporter,
having crashed the locker room for a scoop, gets so turned on . . .
blah, blah.

In the film, the Case kid, wearing nothing but shoulder pads and a
team jersey, was seen to be hanging like a fucking horse!  Twelve
inches and as thick around as the bottom of a Coke bottle.

And he was a heavy cummer, too, which was abundantly clear in the
film, and would be just what his glory hole couple had requested.
Every guy was to have not had an orgasm in at least a week.  He wanted
his better half to have her first taste of other men's cum dished out
in pints.  Wade thought, not like his usually smallish teaspoon
spurts?

"You know what a glory hole is, dontcha?" he asked Timmy.

"Yeah, I know all about them.  I was in that same scenario last month,
dontcha remember, boss?" Wade nodded even though he didn't remember it
at all.

"Good," Wade said.  "When was the last time you ejaculated, Timmy?"

"What?"

"You heard me, bucko.  When was the last time you shot your wad!  Blew
your load.  Spilled your seed.  Popped your cocky.  Get it?" Timmy
nodded, looking puzzled.

"Geez, boss, I don't know.  Week or more, I guess.  Why?  You hungry?"
He laughed.

"Yeah, wise-ass," Wade said, giving Timmy a sham pissed-off look.
"Put it on my next salad, will you?  And hold the mayo.  No, dumbfuck
. . .  I need a guy for a glory hole scenario for tonight, in Studio 2
at 9 pm.  You available, dumbshits--yes or no?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  I have nothing better lined up.  What's the poop?"

"Old gal wants to suck off a dozen guys through the hole.  Hubby won't
be there.  He wants her to feel free to totally enjoy herself without
any guilt splashing on her by his presence.  He'll enjoy the tape
later, I guess.  With or without her . . .  who knows?  Oh, be there
at 8:30, no later than 8:45.  Studio 2.  Got it?" Timmy nodded as Wade
waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

As Timmy walked away, Wade called out, "And, Timmy?  Don't drop any
loads until tonight, kid; the hubby wants her to have nothing but
mouthfuls, not dribs and drabs.  OK?"

Timmy yelled back over his shoulder, "Don't worry, boss, I'll give her
a load so big she'll think she's gonna drown!" Timmy snapped his
fingers in the air and did a little dance step by clicking his heels
together.

Wade thought, as he watched Timmy depart, so young and dumb and fulla
cum!  Oh, to be his age again.  Oh, well, I'll enjoy that young, and
oh so innocent, wife tonight.  Happy birthday, wifey, and by the way,
here's a baby!

As he thought, he realized he hadn't cum in a few days himself.  Well,
he'd give the married bitch a nice mouthful for sure, and, while he
was at it, maybe a facial, too.  Give her hubby something to really
watch.

Shit, he was getting hard just thinking about it.  Back to work, Wade,
old boy, he reminded himself, tonight will take care of itself.  And,
he thought, if I really enjoy the woman, I'll stay all three days!
They might not even notice me, but I'll put on a simple disguise, just
in case.  He'd bet dollars to donuts that no one would notice that, on
days two and three, there were now eleven men on the field!  And, if
the couple bitched, well, he'd just have to send one of the other guys
packing now, wouldn't he?

Shit, Timmy thought, double shit.  He had arrived on time, early in
fact, but the elevator had gotten stuck between floors.  Again.  Third
time in a week.  He was now waiting for old Charlie, the night
manager, to free him from this predicament.

"Come on, Charlie," he said out loud.  "You lazy fuck, where are you? 
I ain't got all night, you dumb shit.  Move your ass, dummo!"

"Hold your fucking horses, sonny!  And your fucking tongue!  Or I'll
leave your raggedy ass in there 'til Monday morning and you can just
go and piss and crap in your socks!" It was old Charlie.

"Sorry, Charlie," Timmy said.  "But I'm late for studio 2."

"Then you don't have a problem, kiddo.  They have you down as guy
number nine.  You got plenty of time.  True, the old gal has already
finished off the first guy and by now she's probably polished off dude
number two and has number three halfway home.  From what I heard, she
gives such great head, they rest will drop like flies!" Charlie
giggled.

Timmy knew old Charlie loved to watch the scenarios and probably beat
his pud at the same time, too.  And, now and then, when an old guy was
called for, old Charlie didn't hesitate to volunteer his services.  He
protested that he only did it for the extra cash, but no one believed
that bullshit.  Christ, Charlie would actually drool when fucking some
young girl who was living out her fantasy of screwing an old fart.
Charlie had fucked one young girl so hard, for so long, she couldn't
walk right away and had to be helped out to her car by her boyfriend. 
Covered in old Charlie's sweat.

And, if truth be told, and film never lies, old Charlie had a thick,
seven inch plus weapon that he knew how to put to good use.  Strictly
for the cash, of course.

Timmy thanked Charlie for rescuing him and the two of them walked the
short distance to studio 2.  The On Air sign was lit up signifying
that video was now being shot.  Charlie used his magnetic keycard to
open the door and stepped aside to let Timmy enter first.

Charlie was right.  The old gal had polished off guy number two and
was working to beat the band on guy number three.  He could see her
bright, ruby red lips through the 4" hole in the plywood board that
had been propped up against an open closet.  They were wrapped around
a thickset penis at the moment and were illuminated by the red
"cathouse" light bulb on her side of the board.

Timmy could hear slurping and sucking noises coming out of her.  The
moans she let out also told him she was really into it and thoroughly
enjoying herself as she sucked away.

The cameraman was down on his knees getting a close up of the glory
hole; obviously taking a shot that was tight in on cock and lips.
Hubby, Timmy thought, should love that one.

Guy's numbers one and two were the only ones with their pants on.
They had to wait until the scenario was fully over, just in case there
were camera problems.  All the other men were naked from the waist
down, with only their socks on, and in various stages of getting hard.
All were playing with their cocks and balls in anticipation of their
turn at batting practice.

The smell of male sex, of male musk, permeated the studio.  And, for
inspiration, three different fuck films were playing, their sound
muted, on three individual DVD sets.

Timmy shed his pants and underwear and, despite of, and under
Charlie's gaze, started playing with his penis.  He might be ninth,
but it paid to plan ahead.  One never knew if the guys in front of him
might not be struck down by some unheard of heart attack epidemic and
he'd be pressed into urgent service.  If he was to be the one to save
the day, he didn't want to be caught short, so to speak.

As he stroked his fat piece of manhood and felt it swelling up, he
noticed a large drop of precum on the tip.  Shit, he thought, I got a
lot of it in me!  Charlie, ever vigilant, handed him a moist towlette.
He had no sooner wiped the tip than another glob popped out.  Hell, he
was just oozing and bleeding cum!

"Geez, kid," Charlie said, his eyes opened wide than usual.  "You've
got some big bat there!  And it's leaking something fierce!"

"Yeah, Charlie, it was a gift from my parents."

Charlie sniggered and said, "Well, kid, too bad they couldn't find one
that didn't drip so much!" He laughed.  Timmy chose to ignore this
witticism.

Guy number three started moaning and sounded as if he was close to
unloading his spunk.  Timmy could see the guy clearly under the studio
lights as he moved his hips in and out and mouth fucked the ruby red
lips.

Then the guy yelled, "Oh, yeah, here it comes, Momma!  Get ready for a
fucking throat bath!" The guy jerked his hips spasmodically as he shot
his wad.  Timmy could hear gurgling sounds coming from behind the
wooden board as the woman swallowed the guy's plentiful bursts of cum.
The guy had spasmed so violently it looked as if he was trying to fuck
the plywood board.  Or falling in love with it.

As the guy turned, Timmy could see cum still dripping from the guy's
cockhead and falling silently onto the tile floor.  Charlie saw it too
and wasted no time.  He went over to where the cum glistened on the
tiles and, using a handiwipe, adroitly mopped it up.  Good old
Charlie.  Always Johnny on the spot.

When he rejoined Timmy, Charlie said, "Can't have no one slipping on
that shit now, can we?" He was a real dedicated team player, that old
Charlie.  Always watching out for the company.

Timmy and Charlie watched as five more men, one after the other, put
their large, hardened pricks through the hole and blew their nut's
weeks worth into the red lips and very eager mouth.

And she sure knew how to suck cock.  From Timmy's angle, he could see
her deep-throating each one of the men.  And, to prevent them from
merely shooting their loads down her gullet, the woman would, as each
guy yelled he was going to cum, scoot her lips back to where only the
head was in her mouth.  She must really love the taste, Timmy thought.

Remarks were heard throughout.  It was part of the overall script.
They were ordered to make the old gal feel very appreciated by some
ad-libbing.

"Man, she's one fantastic cocksucker!"

"Oh, yeah, she gives a great blowjob!  Best I've ever had!"

"Did she deep-throat you, too?"

"Yeah, and I gave her a gallon of hot cum!"

Funny, Timmy thought, these guys don't sound as if they're ad-libbing.

Finally, it was Timmy's turn.  Watching the films and watching the
hole with the red lips had had its effect on him.  He was raring to
go.  Christ, precum had formed on his dick at least a half dozen times
already.  He wiped his cock tip with the towlette one last time and
headed toward the board.

As he walked, his foot-long prick proudly displayed and wobbling in
the air, he heard one of the guys whisper loudly, "Wow!  There ain't
no way she's gonna deep-throat that fucking monster!"

Timmy didn't think so, either.  No woman, to date, had been able to
take more than the head and maybe an inch beyond.  The one woman who
had dared to go past that "no-woman's land" point had upchucked an
entire Chinese meal in his lap.  Surely, no old woman was going to be
the first, no matter how good Charlie or the guys said she was.  Life,
Timmy thought, just don't work like that.

Timmy placed his full, and now very rigid, 12" erection through the
hole. He heard her gasp and whisper from the other side, "Holy cow, is
that thing for real?"

Timmy chose not to answer.  He just stood there waiting to be sucked
off by Mrs.  Red Lips.  He didn't have to wait long.  She started by
reaching through the hole and pulling his huge balls into it.  Then
she was fondling his humongous prick with both hands.  Then she pulled
on it, poked it, prodded it, licked precum off the tip, until,
finally, he felt her wet, hot mouth around his cockhead.  It felt
fantastic to him.

He was surprised that she had no trouble taking his huge width to a
point a few inches past the ridge.  Past the "no woman's land." That
was indeed a first.  What a mouth on this broad, he thought.

She probably had at least six inches in her mouth and some had to be
down her throat.  He was amazed at it all.  And feverishly turned on
by it. So much so that he felt the tip of his dick twitch, tingle, and
leak more precum juice.

Then she really surprised him.  She took him all the way down to where
only two inches remained between her lips and his pubic hair.  She had
ten inches of his unbelievably wide cock in her mouth and down her
throat.  He couldn't believe it.

Timmy looked down.  He could see the red lips greatly stretched around
his huge prick.  The sight of it made him even hotter.  He could also
hear her heavy breathing.

He slowly moved in closer, pressing his groin into the hole.  Then,
she did it!  He felt the lips move forward, slowly, quarter inch by
quarter inch, until he could feel her nose press against his belly.
Then, she pressed forward even further until not only had her lips
reached his pubic hairs, she was actually pressing them into his
groin.  It was unreal.

He turned his head to the right and screamed, over his shoulder, "Man,
oh man, she's got it all, right down to my nutsack!" There was a short
burst of applause by the group of onlookers.  Then, a sudden hush.

She then started working his cock like a pro, perhaps even better.
She varied the pressure, varied the speed, and varied her tongue
movements, giving him the best cocksucking he'd ever had in his entire
young life.

She'd work the head, then deep-throat him.  Plunge!  Right down on it.
Then she would scoot back up to the head and lavish it with a tongue
and lip bath.  Then, bam!  Right down to the fur again.

It was unreal and unbelievable to him.  He started mouth fucking her,
slowly, timing it to agree with her head movements.  They soon had a
good rhythm going.  She was being mouth-fucked by the biggest prick
she'd ever seen and the greatest cocksucker he'd ever known was
sucking him off. Mouth and cock.  Cock and mouth.  He didn't know
where he began and she left off.  All he could hear was her moaning
and slurping noises as she sucked him and drove him to a level of
pleasure he had never ever experienced.

He found himself moaning out loud, too.  The hush remained over the
studio as the men just stared, mesmerized, at the lewd and lascivious
scene taking place mere feet from their eyes.  Timmy glanced to the
side and saw the cameraman coming in for a supreme close up.  The guy
looked shell-shocked, his mouth agape.

Mrs.  Red Lips worked his dick for another few minutes or so and then
Timmy was ready.  He tried to fight it, to hold it back, to prolong
the exquisite pleasure, the wonderful sensations, but he knew it was
hopeless. He knew the end was near when he felt his cockhead start to
swell up. Trying to reverse it now was impossible.

Thus, with a yell, he let the dam burst.  "Ooohwee!  Oooh-fucking-
wee!" A week's worth of cum just poured out of him, spurt after spurt
after spurt. It came from his balls, but it felt to him as if it was
pouring out of his very soul.  He thought he'd died and gone to
heaven.  He heard her, on the other side, struggling to swallow his
copious deluge.

She gulped audibly each time she swallowed.  He would fill her mouth
and then refill it, again and again.  Four times in all.  With her
gurgles and gulps, and frequent moans, adding to his overall pleasure.

Finally, he was finished.  She continued to suck his cock, vacuuming
him, moaning as she did, and getting every last drop as if it was the
most precious liquid in the world.  Then, as she took her lips off of
his deflating prick, he heard her whisper, "Thank you, young man, that
was unbelievable!  I came four times just sucking your magnificent
prick and swallowing . . .  oooh, make that five times!" Timmy
giggled.

Fully drained, he staggered back a few feet.  He turned to the other
men, glassy eyed, and whispered, "Did you guys see that?  She took it
all! What a fucking blowjob she gives!  Man, I wanna marry the bitch!"
The guys laughed.  Old Charlie laughed.

Now, being on staff, unlike the other guys, Timmy could have left the
scene right then and there, had he chose.  But he wanted to get a
look-see at the only woman to ever take his entire coke-bottle-size
dick completely down her throat.  So, he put on his shorts and pants
and went over to join old Charlie.

Charlie just stared at him and looked as if he was in shock.

"Holy shit, Timmy," Charlie mumbled.  "That was one helluva show!  I
ain't ever seen anything like it . . .  well, 'cept that little woman
in Puerto Rico who swallowed a donkey's seventeen inch pecker . . .
but that old donkey was a lot thinner than your fat salami."

Timmy laughed and said, "Charlie, this old broad can suck my cock any
time she want to!  Anytime at all!"

Charlie laughed and said, "Guess that's why you're hangin' around, eh?
Looking to set up a rematch?"

Timmy didn't answer.  He simply grinned at old Charlie.

The two of them just stood there and watched as the last three guys
got their rocks off.  However, after Timmy's fantastic episode, it all
seemed anticlimactic.  Yawn.

After guy number twelve had unloaded his sizeable wad into the
talented red lips, all the guys stayed around instead of splitting,
which would have been more usual.  They also wanted to get a look at
the spectacular and unbelievable salami swallower.

As the cameraman closed up shop and departed, still looking dazed,
Timmy went over and removed the plywood board.  There she was, red
lips and all, head bowed downward, still kneeling, as if not sure she
was done, with cum dangling from her chin and from her bright ruby red
lips.  As she ran a hand through her hair, Timmy could see cum stains
on the chest of her silk blouse.  It was obvious that some parts of
the loads, as large as they were, had escaped her lips.
Understandable, he thought.

All the guys, old Charlie included, stood up and broke out in a
deafening applause.  She bowed her head down further and smiled,
gracefully accepting the standing ovation.  Then, she raised her head
and looked up toward Timmy.

When the moment of recognition hit them both, Timmy could have been
knocked over with the proverbial feather.

"M-m-mom!" was all he could manage to hoarsely squeak out.

"Timmy!  Oh, dear me!" was all she could say as a deafening roar of
laughter filled studio 2 all the way to the rafters.  The group of
men, seeing the look of anger on Timmy's face, quickly hushed it up.
No point in angering a staff guy, was there?

Old Charlie was the first, the only one who dared, to break the
pregnant silence.

As Charlie handed the woman a moist towlette to wipe the cum from her
face, he said, gleefully, "Timmy?  If your mother needs a lift home,
I'd be only too glad to take her!"

Timmy turned and looked at old Charlie.  Charlie was grinning from ear
to ear.  Timmy scowled at Charlie, but then, suddenly, his face
changed. He now smiled at the old black man.  Shit, he thought, why am
I getting pissed?  So my mom sucked a bunch of dudes and me off.  So
fucking what? Who was he to judge?  She had obviously enjoyed herself.
He sure had.  The guys had, too.  Why shouldn't old Charlie get a
shot?

"Why not?" Timmy said lightly.  "If it's okay with mom, it's okay with
me.  Charlie, I'd like you to meet my mom, Martha." He turned toward
her. "Mom, say hello to Charlie."

She and old Charlie said their respective and very polite hellos.
Lordy, Timmy thought, you'd think they were at a formal cocktail party
instead of a completed glory hole scenario.

Martha eyed the old black man up and down and no one there could miss
her extra long glance at the very large bulge now clearly visible in
old Charlie's chino workpants.

"Why not?" she said cheerfully.  "After this surprise, I could sure
use me a nightcap!"

Then, she turned to Timmy.  "Would you call your father and tell him
I'm bringing a . . .  colorful . . .  , " She winked at old Charlie, "
. . . surprise home!  And tell him to warm up the camcorder!  OK,
Timothy?"

"Sure, mom.  Oh, before I forget, don't forget to take this tape.
It's yours now, you know.  Of course, you might want me to have it
edited to take me, uh, us, out of it.  Don't want to upset dad, you
know, and maybe give him a heart attack."

"No need, Timothy.  Your father will understand the mistake.  It could
have happened to anyone.  Besides, he's very broadminded.  After all,
it was his idea that I, uh, do a bunch of men from behind a glory hole
to fulfill a fantasy of mine."

Timmy nodded.  "OK, mom, whatever you say." He still felt a tad
strange.

Timmy's mother and old Charlie walked out arm in arm with Charlie
grinning like a black Cheshire cat.  Timmy turned to the remaining men
and said, "What the fuck you guys looking at?  Don't you know it's
quitting time?  Get out of here, before I start kicking ass and taking
names." The guys left in a hurry.  A while later, Timmy followed, his
phone call to dad completed.  He dowsed the studio lights, as was the
rule for last one out.

As Timmy stood outside the door to studio 2, he had weird thoughts and
pictures coursing through his brain.  He couldn't get the vision of
those ruby red lips sucking off all those cocks, his included, out of
his head. And, her moans!  Her audible swallowing!  Her hot, wet mouth
deep-throating him, swallowing his cum.  Brrr, he thought, that's way
too vivid!

Shit, it was mom after all, wasn't it?  Mom, for crissakes!  And what,
he wondered, was she going to be doing with old black Charlie later on
tonight?  He could picture those red lips on Charlie's black 7" plus
cock. Gulping down old Charlie's cum.  He could also picture, also way
too vividly, old Charlie, old Charlie for crissakes, fucking her like
a dog in heat.  Drooling and sweating all over her as he banged her
into the mattress until she had trouble walking and needed help just
to go the bathroom.

And what about dad, dear old dad?  What would he be doing while
Charlie was being sucked off by mom?  Probably running the camera!
Too many possibilities flooded his head.  He had seen too many
scenarios on film where he worked, so nothing really surprised him,
but now he felt he had just a tad more information than he wanted to
have about the folks.  The fact that they had human needs and desires
might have placated him, but it hadn't yet.  Perhaps, he thought, in
time.

But he didn't want to think about the future now, not really, but he
sure as shit had had the best deep-throat blowjob of his entire life. 
And, since even a president had once said that oral sex wasn't really
sex at all, and most of the world had agreed, what would mom think if
. . .  and they had the board between them . . .  or . . .  he pushed
the lewd thoughts out of his head.  Tomorrow would take care of
itself.  As he walked toward the elevator he knew he'd have trouble
sleeping tonight.

And worse than that, he thought, it would be all over the fucking
office tomorrow!  How his mommy had swallowed her baby boy's big
salami . . . along with his wee-wee squirt-squirt!  Along with eleven
other guy's wee-wee squirt-squirts!  Lordy, lordy.  He could see it
coming!  This was, he thought, truly the time that tries men's souls.

Shit, he thought, maybe I should just up and quit and go live in a
cave somewhere.  He even thought of breaking into Wade's office and
stealing the automatically sent backup copy of tonight's episode off
of Wade's computer, but he knew a further backup copy of the tape was
also now on Wade's home PC.  And who knew where else?  Damn backups!
Who's stupid idea had it been originally, anyway?

Then, he thought, fuck 'em!  Fuck 'em all!  This is the year 2030
after all and weirder shit than this was now commonplace.  And it was
an honest mistake, wasn't it?  With that thought in mind he headed for
home and promised himself not to think about old Charlie, or mom, or
dear, old dad, for at least the rest of the night.  Tomorrow would
take care of itself.

If it was at all possible, that is, not to think about it.  Somehow
Timmy didn't think it was, for even as he stepped onto the elevator,
he felt his baby boy salami stirring, brought to life by the image of
those ruby red lips.  They kept floating around in his head.  He
sighed and pressed the lobby button.  Tomorrow would take care of
itself.  As dreadful as it promised to be.

He could hear Wade now . . .  damn it!

Studio 2 was now back to being an empty, darkened space once more.

All ready for the next FantasySex.Com scenario, whatever that was to
be and whoever was to be in it.  Studio 2 didn't care who they were or
what they did, or even if they were blood kin.

And Studio 2 certainly didn't care about tomorrow.  Or today, either,
for that matter.

End.  FantasySex.Com.