Author: Arthur Kay Title: Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to Spread!  Summary:
Susie wants to screw every guy in New York City--without getting
herself killed as Diane Keaton did in Looking for Mr.  Goodbar.  So,
she comes up with her sure-fire master plan . . .  !  Keywords: MF,
M+F, WS

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 purely
coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no
negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story.  The
story is intended for entertainment only and should not be emulated in
the real world.

Susie Cream Cheese: EZ to spread!

by Arthur Kay

You've probably never heard of Susan Wills.  For, indeed, in the past
ten years or so she's kept a very low profile.  In spite of having had
sex with over 1,500 men from coast to coast.

None of these guys knew, or know, her real name, either.  They knew
her by her self-imposed nickname, Ms.  Susie Cream Cheese.  She'd tell
the men, when they naturally inquired about her odd name, "I'm the
girl who's easy to spread!  Just like cream Cheese.  Only a lot
tastier!"

And spread her they did, over and over, this brown-haired, brown-eyed
cutie.  She stood 5' 5" in stocking feet and hadn't an ounce of fat
anywhere on her shapely frame.  Her breasts were small, but the
nipples were large and so sensitive they'd be called perky by anyone
with any sense whatsoever.

Add a mouth that looked perfect for kissing (or sucking on something),
an ass that jutted out in a twin bubble pattern, and you can see why
most men would have the hots for her.  I know I did.  That's how I got
her whole true and unvarnished story.

But she wasn't always known as Susie Cream Cheese, no sirree.

In high school, the most a fella got from Susie was a titty feel or,
if he was a really good boy, a quick handjob.  Her pussy was off
limits, Charlie, make no mistake about that.  Susie was too concerned
about her reputation in the neighborhood to go beyond a five-fingered
assist.

In college, and far from her home turf, Susie had let herself have a
tad more leeway.  Leeway enough, you might say, to have her cherry
popped.  By a bumbling and fumbling nerdy type who answered to the
name of Calvin Chauncy Cooler.  Three Cee to his friends and Cee Cee
or Cally to his family.

Now, what Three Cee, or Cee Cee, or Cally, take your pick, lacked in
sexual finesse, he made up for by having just enough pecker length to
bust her hymen.  For keeps, dontcha know.  And old Cee Cee, at twenty
years young, admitted to her that he had just lost his virginity, too.
You could say they shared the moment.  And a cigarette, too.  But not
the future. For Susie dropped him quicker than you could say, ahem,
Three Cee, or Cee Cee, or Cally.  Take your pick.

Now, don't you go thinking that this mismatched coupling was an
accident of fate or a sperm of the moment thing.  Oh, no!  This was a
planned fucking by a master planner.  Susie knew Calvin was
controllable, being such a nerd and all, could do what was necessary,
and wouldn't put up much of an argument when she lowered the boom on
him.  And she was right.  Old Cal simply moved on, sorrier for doing
so, but with at least one real fuck under his belt and to his personal
credit.

Susie loved the freedom that being at college gave her and, with her
hormones raging up a storm, intended to take full advantage of the
situation.  But first she needed to protect herself from getting
pregnant. A thought brought to scary light when her next period after
her Calvin fiasco was a few days late.  So she tried a diaphragm.  It
was awkward and putting it in killed the passion of the moment
somewhat, but she knew it was a necessity.

Now, being a master planner, Susie didn't go slam-banging into the
college world, fucking here and there without regards for her personal
space.  Oh, no, she chose her men very carefully and, you guessed it,
they were all the nerdy type.  Men who, if they chose to spread nasty
rumors about her, had very little chance of being believed.

And, proceeding slowly, she let only three such men try out her new
diaphragm thingy.  Once each, but no more.  She was finding her way
and testing things out.  They could have used her patience and
planning abilities for the Normandy invasion in World War two.

Then along came birth control pills and the sexual revolution.  Well,
lordy, lordy, you could measure the speed of light by how fast she got
a prescription and had it filled.  Susie felt, at the time, that
mankind had introduced the pills and the new sexual attitudes with her
specifically in mind.  As she had said to her roomie, more than once,
"A pill a day let's you fuck away!  Hooray!  Hooray!"

Susie tested the pill's efficacy on eight nerdy men in such rapid
succession their heads are probably still spinning today when merely
thinking about their encounters with her.  But then, wouldn't you know
it, she fell in love.  The head over heels kind of love.  And with the
eighth nerd, no less.

His name was Gregory Wills.  He was nerdy, to be sure, but somehow he
seemed less so to a girl in love.  Oh, yeah, he wore thick, horn-
rimmed glasses, a nerdy-nerdy pocket protector, and funny, ill
fitting, out of fashion clothing, but he was also tall and nicely
built.  Throw an 8" + boner with the ability to use it quite well into
the mix and--voila!  Love. Or close enough to it.

Thus far I've omitted any reference to oral sex, or as you pervs say,
cocksucking and pussy eating.  You see, Susie, in a decidedly prudish
vein, was saving her mouth, and its sweet potential, for the man of
her dreams. Silly goose!

While she had fantasized about sucking a dick, had even read up on
technique, and had discussed the subject in great detail with her
roommate, Willa, thus far the only thing to enter her mouth in oral
giving fashion was a practice banana now and then.  With the skin on,
naturally.

Since, as they say, practice makes perfect, Susie was soon able to
deep-throat the biggest bananas available from the supermarket.  If
10" bananas could talk, they'd undoubtedly say to the rest of the
yellow bunch, "Whatta mouth, whatta throat!"

That was the exact words that gushed out of Greg the first time she
sprang her oral talents on him.  He yelled them out just a few seconds
before he blasted her mouth with his nerdy cum.  A taste that Susie
found to be unbelievably delicious.

Whether it was her love for Greg or not, the session firmly
established two truisms in her brain: She loved sucking cock and she
loved swallowing cum.  Even more than actual fucking, which she found
to be okay, but nowhere near as pleasant as a cock in the mouth.  And
her orgasms while sucking away were more intense than the ones she got
from mere screwing

Whatever her sexual likes, she and Greg fucked and sucked like
rabbits, right up to, and through, their elopement one fine weekend.
One of those four-day long weekends.  The B&B the Wills' honeymooned
at had a marriage suite and the two of them saw nothing else the whole
time there.  To Susie, her Greg was an animal who matched her thrust
for thrust.  The new Mrs. Wills was in cum heaven.

However, heaven lasted only three months.  Then Greg started getting
tired.  Very tired.  Holding down a part-time job and with classes and
all, the poor boy was whipped all the time.  He'd come home to the
little room they had rented over someone's garage and just collapse on
the couch.  He called it playing blob.  "I'm bushed, baby, I just want
to play blob tonight and watch some TV.  OK?"

No, it was not OK.  Not by a long shot and certainly not to a recently
wedded hot and horny gal.  Naturally, argument after argument ensued
and the marriage went quickly on the old friggin' rocks of divorce.
Goodbye, Greg, it's been fun, but I got some serious fucking to do.
That, she told me, was loosely in her thoughts at the time.

Well, once again free, she fiddled around with a handful of guys here
and there, with her heart not fully in it, until graduation day.  She
wasn't out of college even a week when she landed a job at a
manufacturer of women's clothing.  Right in the heart of the silk
stocking district of New York City.  As a trainee in the sales
department.

She learned quickly and, with her natural planning talents, was
promoted to assistant buyer in less than a year.  She had found her
career niche in life.

But, naturally, she still had volatile hormones and they spoke to her
each and every day.  "You need some fucking and sucking, girl!" they
seemed to scream out.  "So, go and get you some before someone else
uses it all up." She wanted to, badly, but she had just finished
reading Judith Rossner's "Looking For Mr.  Goodbar" and it had thrown
a fitful scare into her.

This allegedly true story of a plain Jane schoolteacher who trolls the
seedy singles bars at night looking for sex only to die at the hands
of a psychopathic killer, well, it was just too vivid and horrifying
to Susie. A girl had to be careful.

When the movie came out, with Diane Keaton as the schoolmarm, Tom
Berenger as the loony, and Tuesday Weld as her sister, Susie resisted
going to see it.  But when she learned that Richard Gere, that hunky
hunk of a hunk, was also in it, she weakened and went to see it . . . 
with a girlfriend, of course.

The movie hammered the point home, even more so than the book, that a
horny girl could get her ass killed . . .  in a heartbeat . . .  by
indiscriminate sex with total strangers.

Unless . . .

Unless the playing field, the sex arena, could be controlled somehow.
That eliminated singles bars of any stripe.  Too dangerous by their
very open nature, their willingness to let all and anyone pass through
their doors.  They made no attempt to (how could they and why should
they?) keep out the riffraff, the hoi polloi and, most assuredly, your
everyday run-of-the-mill psychopathic or sociopathic maniac.

Yes, singles bars sucked, but she knew just where some fairly safe
places to meet men existed.  She'd learned that little fact from
attending out-of-town sales meetings for the company's buyers.

Hotel bars.  With wall-to-wall men.  Well-dressed businessmen in suit
and tie.  In town on business.  Men who were probably married which
made them even more attractive to her as there would be no sloppy
breaking up scenes later on.  And the out-of-town aspect fit in well,
too.  There would be no, "Let's start an affair!" crap.  No crimping
on her time, either. She'd be as free as a bird.  With the chances of
running into some lunatic very remote, if not damn near impossible.

The more Susie thought about it, the more she liked the idea.  If she
played it correctly, choosing only men from outside the state, she saw
the possibility of ending up with her own personal stable of horny,
dick-hard studs who would, while sexually agitated for sure, call her
up from time to time to say they were in town and would just love her
company.  "Let's do (pant, pant) lunch.  (pant, pant) I'm in room 1213
(pant, pant) at the Ramada (pant, pant) on 38th."

Oh, yeah, and they'd be more than hot to trot and glad to see her when
she crossed their hotel room's doorway.  They'd be slobbering up a
storm just thinking about getting between mamma's thighs.  No fucking
sofa blobs here.  And any potential blob that dared to pop up could be
eliminated in a New York second.

All she had to make sure of was that no man ever had her real home
address or home phone number.  She'd give them a false name and a work
phone number that only she would answer.  Because she had her own
private phone line at work (thank you, boss!) it would be easy to
assign one of the three extensions, that she never used anyway, to her
new name.

That's when the delicious idea of calling herself Susie Cream Cheese
came to life.  It would telegraph to each man that all she was
interested in was a fucking and not a long-term romance.  If they
thought her to be a downright slut, well, fuck 'em!  Who cared?  No
one else would know but these men and herself.  Could it, she thought,
be any better than this? Yeah, but only if a place existed where she
could order up a large-size cock with a big balls topping the way you
do a pizza.

Thus emerged Susie Cream Cheese, the EZ to spread girl.  With a sure-
fire plan that she knew could be honed to an exquisitely fine art.
Thus, with this plan burning up her brain, she quickly added a new
file to her computer.  Not for phone numbers and addresses, but for
men's' names and a limited smattering of personal data.

A brief physical description, their sexual preferences and even cock
size would also be noted.  In her own code, of course.  Based on the
ABC's, similar to the code she used for dress orders.  Anyone
stumbling across the file, which was named, simply enough, Buyer
Meetings, would surmise it was just that, business shit--not even
worth a second glance.

A = Anal.  B = Blowjob.  C = Cunnilingus.  D = Dick size.  There was
no point in encoding Fucking with an F as they would all surely do
that to her.

However, as time went on, she did add M = Missionary, DS = Doggy
Style, and MOT = Me On Top.  All three positions would simply be coded
as ALL. And at one point, she also added HC for Heavy Cummer.  Thus, a
typical entry might be:

Tom, 6.1, Arizona, Hilton (34th), B, C, D7," ALL, HC.  4x.

The 4x, of course, meant they had gotten together four times.  And,
when a guy called on her extension, she would simply whisper,
breathlessly, "Susie Cream Cheese, how may I help you?" Giggling
thrown in for good measure.  At the same time she'd pull up the Buyer
Meetings file on her PC's screen as a memory refresher--if it was at
all necessary.

Although, at this point, she was eager and ready to try her ideas out
and even knew the hotel bar she planned to start with, The Kensington,
she was in no hurry.  There were other aspects to consider first.  And
to plan out.  So, when she got home to her cozy little apartment that
night, she poured herself a gin and tonic and pulled out a pad and a
Bic.  And outlined her game plan . . .

Hotel Bars: Here she made a list of the six she already knew about.
More were sure to be added later.  She also made a note telling
herself not to hit the same bar twice in any two-week period as
bartenders pick up on shit.

Sit on stool at bar and wait.  And, if he as no appeal to me?  Simple
--Tell him I'm on my way to a business meeting, pay up and go to the
second choice.  She liked that; it gave her even more control over the
situation. She could pick and choose at will.

If appealing to me and not inebriated, find out quickly --

1.  Is he staying at this hotel and on business?  If not, split.

2.  Is he from out of town?  If not, split.

3.  Size his demeanor up.  Happy-go-lucky or sad?  Horny innuendos?
Eager to be manipulated sexually?  Can he take a sexual hint?

How do I get him to take me to his room?  Perhaps -- "I've never
stayed at this hotel before.  Are the rooms nice?  The view?  Of the
city?" Corny, but if he's at all quick-witted, it should do the trick.

And because I do, darling self, want to suck him off and have him
unload in my mouth first -- I need a plan!  Susie thought for a while
and then hit on one.

She'd wear a Kotex pad!  After the usual preliminary kissing and
fondling, with him all worked to a lather from her playing with his
cock through his trousers, he'd discover the pad soon enough.

Oh, he'd be disappointed at first, but she could handle that by
telling him it was her last day and it would be coming off soon.  Give
him a light at the end of the tunnel.  But, in the meantime, she
didn't want him to suffer from blue balls, so some line, such as, "I'm
sorry I got you so worked up, but what if I made love to you?" should
work.

In case he was truly slow on the uptake, she'd punch home the message
by kneeling down in front of him and unzipping his fly.  Bold, but who
cares? He would know in a second that he had a cum slut on his hands,
but what guy would argue the point and say, "Hey, lady, if you think
I'm going to let you suck my cock before we fuck, you've got another
guess coming!  Get off your knees and never darken my doorstep again!"
Yeah, right!  When piglets are born covered with feathers and owls are
used for their bacon strips.

Susie even planned out the best day of the week.  Friday, always on a
Friday.  This way, the guy willing of course, she could spend the
night. And all of Saturday, too--if she chose.  She could leave him on
Sunday morning, right after a scrumptious hotel brunch in the room and
a good Sunday morning fucking and split for home to take care of her
personal things.

This would cover the initial tryst.  If the guy called later on and
was in town on a different day, well, she'd handle that on a case-by-
case basis. After all, it was all hers to control, wasn't it?  You bet
your ass it was.

Because Friday was the following day, Susie poured herself another
drink and studied what she had written.  She was looking for flaws,
possible problems, something that could screw her up.  She wasn't
worried about her ability to think standing on her feet, but she liked
to preplan, just in case.  You never know.

She saw nothing glaring, but what if a guy wanted her to spend a
night, any night, and she didn't feel like it?  Well, that's easy to
handle.  She could invent a boyfriend (even a husband!) and say she
couldn't stay too long as she was sure to be missed.  "So, buddy, if
you wanna fuck me over the lunch hour, hop to it!" This phantom
boyfriend could come, go, and even change into someone else if the
scenario called for it.  He could even be the jealous type, or not,
according to her whims.  Delicious!

What if the guy noticed that on the last time they met, her period was
on a different time of the month?  Do guys ever notice that crap?  She
didn't think so, but even if one rare bird did, she'd throw out the
fact that she had a "rolling period." She never knew when the damn
thing would hit.  She liked that, too.

All that remained now was the doing.  While she probed further for
snares and traps, she fixed a frozen dinner, watched a little TV, did
her toiletries, and went to bed.  The excitement of it all, the
immense sexual possibilities, forced her to masturbate herself to
sleep.  Her orgasm was stronger that night than any she could remember
in recent months.  Oh, yeah, world, here comes the new Susie Cream
Cheese!  So spread the word as you spread the girl.

While it would be a tour de force on my part to fill you in on what
Susie did sexually with each of the 1,500 men, it won't happen.  Not
because she only filled me in on a handful of men, but for the good
reason that it would get tedious and very boring.  So, if you will
indulge me, I will tell you what she told me and no more.  And no
less, either.

Friday evening found her sitting on a stool in The Kensington, a
midtown hotel bar, her Kotex firmly in place and looking as pretty as
a picture. Having had her shoulder-length brown hair stylishly coifed
at a midtown salon on her lunch hour, with a new manicure, new shoes
and purse, she looked dynamite.  Add a pale yellow, breast-hugging,
nipple-popping shirt tucked into a sea green mini-skirt that displayed
her shapely legs to their best advantage and, brother, put that tongue
back in your mouth before someone trips over it.

She hadn't even sat there twenty minutes when a guy walked up and
offered to buy her next drink.  In the blink of an eye, she sized him
up. Tall, nice looking, brownish-blond hair that was neatly trimmed,
with a snazzy brown business suit that matched his eyes exactly.  He
also looked to be in his late thirties to early forties with broad
shoulders that Susie could easily picture her arms going around.  In a
nutshell, she found him to be simply scrumptious.  Scrumptious?  Hell,
she had to concentrate to keep from salivating on the bar nuts.

She accepted his offer as she swung around in her chair slightly so as
to face him.  Both of her cute little knees were now aimed directly at
his crotch.

He introduced himself as Bart, Bart Phillips, from Houston, Texas.
Susie picked up on the fact that he lacked the typical Texas accent.

"Hello, Bart, I'm Susie.  But you don't sound like a Texan." She
looked up at him with a sham look of suspicion on her face and one eye
cocked.  He chuckled, still standing and not moving into the stool
next to her.  He moved toward her slightly until he was just inches
away from her knees.

"Hi, Susie, it's nice meeting you." He shook her offered hand gently.
"And no, I wasn't born in Texas.  My work put me there.  I was born in
Canada.  Ontario, to be precise." He moved a tad closer to her.  His
upper right leg was now lightly brushing against her right knee.  She
could feel the human electricity from his touch and he was now close
enough for her to smell his cologne.  Light and nice.  There was
nothing heavy-handed about this guy.

Bart took the adjacent stool and moved it slightly toward her so that,
as they chatted away, both his knees now slightly touched both of
hers. Fully and with no pretense that might mean "Oops!  Sorry, didn't
know what I was doing." This man knew exactly what he was doing.
Susie knew that fact, too.

They swapped a few lies with each other for a time and then Susie
closed in for the kill.

"I've never stayed at this hotel before, Bart, so tell me, are the
rooms nice and do you have a good view of the city?" The door was now
open wide and it was up to him to come on in.  Now, the way she'd said
it and the look she had on her face when she'd said it, coupled with
an obvious forward knee pressure from her to him, simply screamed out,
"Take me to your room, you hunky fuck, and fuck the living shit out of
me before I go crazy and start humping your legs!"

Well, he not only read the signs, he parried them.

"Well, Susie, that's hard for me to say as I haven't taken the time to
notice yet.  How about you coming up to my room and we can check it
out together?" He smiled which left no doubt that he had her number.
And, from the slight bulge in his trousers, she had his number, too.

"I'd like that, Bart.  Let's pay up and you can lead the way.  OK?" At
times, the Let's-Fuck-Like-Rabbits-In-Heat mating dance is no more
complicated than that.  And the only way it could have been any easier
was if she had a sign on her that said, "I fuck!" and he had one that
said, "Me, too!"

"OK." was all he said.  No more was necessary.  Not for a Canadian.

They were hardly into the room when he locked the door and pulled her
to him and kissed her.  And not a kiss like one from your grannie,
either. His tongue was all over the inside of her mouth and it was as
hot as a tongue can get.  She tongue-dueled him back and felt his
hands go to both of her ass cheeks, squeezing, kneading, spreading the
cheeks apart and pressing them together again.  His hands were all
over her ass as if he had done this with her a hundred times before.

He was on fire.  As was Susie.  Their kisses were just steaming along.
Sloppy wet and hot as blazes.  His right hand moved off her ass to go
and fondle her left breast.  She moaned and reached down to fondle his
cock through the suit material.  It felt as hard as nails as it
throbbed in her grasping hand.

She felt the hand still on her ass going under the mini-skirt and
working its way around to her front.  Then fingers were finding their
way into her panties looking for her pussy lips.  The fingers were
rough but with gentle overtones.  She moaned again, squeezing his cock
for emphasis. Then, Bam!  The Kotex firewall made itself known to him.
The predicted moment had arrived.

She breathlessly gave him her little song and dance "period" piece and
fell to her knees in front of him.  He signaled it was jake with him
by putting a hand on each of her shoulders as she unzipped his fly.

She looked up at him and the look on his face was hard to read.  He
was smiling.  A smile that could easily have said, "Go ahead, girl, I
know you're one of those women who likes to suck a guy off first." But
Susie didn't care.  She was going to get to suck his cock and have it
shoot in her mouth and that was the plan after all.  Wasn't it?

She had initially thought of just taking his dick out and working on
it, but now decided that she wanted to see more of him.  She wanted to
see his crotch hair and his strong, tanned legs.

She undid his belt, opened the top button, hooked her fingers in his
underpants and trousers simultaneously and in one tug pulled them down
to his ankles.  He reacted by tossing his tie over one shoulder and
rolling up the bottom of his shirt.  He now stood in front of her
naked from his belly button down to his socks.  The sight of his large
balls and hairy crotch with his very hard 8" erection sticking
straight out into space made her feel swoony and quite giddy.  She
knew she was gonna love this.  Oh, yeah, the plan was cooking along on
all burners.

I remember the day I first met Susie Wills, but not too many of the
minor details.  It was at a cocktail party some chichi couple threw
for sixty or more people.  Their midtown duplex apartment was crammed
with the artsy advertising world types.  Art Directors, copywriters,
Account Executives, PR folk, and so on.  I came as one of the art
directors because it was my chosen profession and, as such, I had a
duty to attend every cocktail party I could get an invitation to.  A
self-imposed duty, to be sure, but a duty nonetheless.  I took duty
seriously.

I wasn't there ten minutes when I spotted Susie.  Now, I always had my
share of pussy seeing as how I worked with models day in and day out
and they would throw themselves at me to get into a commercial of one
kind or another.  I never used my position to sway them into bed with
promises of this role or that.  I didn't have to.

On the contrary.  I would tell them that I offered them nothing, no
guarantees of a job, so if they chose to do me they shouldn't expect
any favors.  They liked the honesty so much they did me anyway.  Many
of them more than once.  I was sorta cute looking in my way.
Irresistible?  Not at all.  In fact, I was turned down eight times out
of ten.  Or, because I prefer to look at the glass as half full, I
scored two times out of ten. That sounds better, doesn't it?  Does to
me.

Anyway, there I was, giving Susie the once-over.  She was in her early
forties at the time, as was I, and she looked simply delicious.  She'd
outgrown the mini-skirts and had a skirt on that came to just an inch
or so above her knees.  She had on very little makeup, just enough to
enhance, and she looked, what's the word?  Oh, yeah, natural.  Just
like the girl next door, whoever the fuck she is.

The pale purple blouse she wore told me that this lady wasn't wearing
a bra tonight.  Those nipples!  They poked through that sheer fabric
and aimed their twin guns right at me and, I swear, I almost ducked in
self-defense.

As I said, I was getting my fair share of ass; some raving beauties,
too, and it took a bit more than looks to get me aroused.  Guess I was
jaded.  But looking Susie up and down did it in spades.  I felt a bone
come on so quickly it shocked the shit out of me.

Looking back I realize it wasn't because she was a sexpot, far from
it, it was how feminine she seemed.  Womanly, if you get the picture. 
Like Mother Earth, or the Earth Mother.  Take your pick.  She was
woman personified, squared.

Well, I wangled a chat out of her and before long we were chummy as to
old friends, or lovers, if you will.  We had chemistry.  And our joint
chemistry came together and the catalyst was, "We're both over-sexed
fuckers who can't get enough of the horizontal tango!" And, believe or
not, not one word was even mentioned about sex, or even love.  It just
hung over us like a cum cloud.

After an hour and a half or so of melding, I asked if I could take her
home.  She said sure, she'd like that.  So, we got into a cab and I
gave the guy my home address, a fact she picked right up on.

"Art, I thought you said you were taking me home.  I live at . . .  "

I squeezed her knee as if to shush her and looked deep into her eyes. 
I mustered up the cutest, most innocent face I could manage.  Shit,
standing alongside me, a cherub would have looked like Charles Manson.

"I didn't say whose home, now did I?" I chuckled, squeezing the knee a
bit for accent.  "So, Sue, unless you have a cat or dog to feed, shut
up darlin' and behave yourself and enjoy the ride." She grinned at me.
Then she squeezed the hand I had on her knee and spoke.

"No cat, no dog, and fuck the damn goldfish!" That said, she reached
out and pulled my head toward hers and planted a kiss on me.  One of
those kisses that says, "You just got lucky!" And I did.  Did I ever.

In my apartment, the first thing she said was, "You have a cat!"

"I do?  Where?" I looked around the room.

"Right there, on the couch." She sounded puzzled.

"Oh, him!  I keep forgetting he's here as I've only had him fifteen
years."

She laughed.  "Schmuck!  What's its name?"

"Sam doesn't like strangers to know his name.  If you can pet him and
he doesn't rip your arm off, that means it's okay for me to tell you
his name. Go pet him and we'll see." She shot me a glance reserved for
lunatics. Then she went over to Sam, knelt down, and started rubbing
his big old head. I could hear him purring from across the room.  She
said to him, "Hi, Sam, now what's your name?" I laughed.

"Hey!" I said.  "He likes you!  You like him, Susie?"

"Yeah, he's beautiful.  What's not to like?" Sam was beautiful.
Sleeky black with evenly matched white stockings on all four paws and
a wide streak of white down the center of his head.  At almost three
feet in length from his nose to the base of his tail, he was also
quite impressive.

"Good.  Take him, he's yours now."

"Huh?"

"Damn cat hasn't paid a dime toward the rent since he's been here.
He's a natural-born freeloader, that one.  Oh, wait a sec, I just
thought of a reason why you can't have him, as much as I know you'd
like to."

"Not that I would want him, but why not?" We were having fun.

"Well, I shouldn't say this in front of him, but . . .  Sam? . . .
He's gay!"

She busted out laughing.  "Well, honey, one night with me and old Sam
will get converted!" She had picked his head up and was staring into
his eyes with no more than an inch or so between them.  "Right, Sam?"
Sam just purred away very noncommittal like.

"I love it," I said, "when a woman knows her power over the male
species, but don't get too excited, Sue, just because you got him
purring his old male heart out.  Sam would purr if a buffalo shit on
his head." I let the imagery hang in the air, but immediately
regretted having compared her touch to buffalo crap.  She looked
slightly pained.  Sometimes funny can be very unfunny.

"Sorry," I said, trying to recover from my minor barb.  "What I meant
was . . .  "

"No sweat, darling, you were just on a humor roll and it went rancid.
But now, you do have to pay a small forfeit." She grinned, looking
quite evil and mischievous.

"And that would be?" She stood up, walked over to me, and whispered in
my ear.  "I don't want Sam to hear this as he might get jealous, but I
want to suck your cock and have you cum in my mouth before we fuck.
OK?" Her hot breath had given my left ear a hardon.  I pulled back
from her a step and looked into both her eyes.  She looked beautiful.

"Woman, you're brutal!  But fair is fair.  However, I hope you'll let
me feed Sam first before you lead me to the slaughter." I tried to
look pleadingly at her.  All she did, as an answer, was to smile and
nod her head slightly.

Then she turned toward Sam and said, "While you're eating, Sam, you
don't mind if I eat your master, do you?" Sam blinked.  Susie took it
as a sure sign of agreement.  "See, it's OK with him!" She giggled and
lightly ran a hand over my crotch area, bumping my erection in the
process and sending a lightning bolt through my ass cheeks.

It wasn't too much later that I was sitting on the edge of my bed with
her kneeling on the floor in front of me.  The weird thing was we were
both naked but hadn't even kissed since leaving Sam in the living
room.  We had entered the bedroom, stripped down, and then she had led
me to the edge of the bed and shoved me down on it, knelt and started
sucking me off.  Weird, but nice in its own way.

Now, I didn't know at the time about her vast experiences, but I
certainly could tell it wasn't her first time.  She'd work on the cock
head a bit and then swoop down to my balls, moaning here and there.
It goes without saying that her lips felt unbelievably good.

"You ever do a saliva suck?" I asked.  I just love to teach and
direct.

She took her mouth from my cock, looked up at me and said, "What's
that?"

"Well, as you know, as you go up and down your saliva builds up.  So
you back off a bit and swallow it.  With a saliva suck you don't.  You
just let it flow out all around my cock and down onto my balls.  My
cock and your lips get all sticky like and pretty soon you won't know
where my cock begins and your lips leave off.  It's a cock-mouth
connection sort of thing. Zen like, almost." She smiled, nodded and
went back to my dick.

A few moments later her saliva was cascading down my cock shaft.  It
had a strong effect on her and she was moaning something fierce.  The
saliva just kept on coming.  Then she pulled her mouth from my cock,
saliva strings following along, and said, "I love it!  It feels . . . 
sexy." I smiled at her.  She asked, "Any other advice, old guru?"

"Yes.  If you like the taste of cum . . .  " She nodded.  "Well,
because we don't want the cum to be cut with too much saliva, I'll
tell you when I'm about to unload.  That's the time to swallow your
saliva so you get the full taste.  Capish?" She nodded and laughed.

"Art, you sound like a fuckin' chef!" I laughed and said, "Well,
darling, the proof is in the eating."

"Yum, yum!" she said as she placed her mouth back on my cock.  Then
she really gave it a workout.  As she salivated throughout, she would
suck the cock head with lips, mouth, and tongue, varying the pressure
from gentle to mild to wow!  Then she would slowly deep-throat me,
moaning away as she did. All pretenses between us were gone now.  I
knew she loved sucking cock and she knew I knew she did.  Total
freedom had set in between us.

After a few minutes of her exquisite torture I stood up and took her
head in both hands.  I slowly started mouth-fucking her, going in
halfway here and there and full depth now and then.  We had a
fantastic rhythm going and we were both totally lost in the act.  As I
looked down at her, my dick going in and out of her mouth, I saw the
most beautiful face in the world.  Then I felt it . . .

"Now, baby, swallow your saliva!" I pulled back until only my cock
head was in her mouth and heard her audibly gulp saliva down just
seconds before my dam burst.  "Oh, baby, oh, baby." I said over and
over as she moaned on my dick.  And she moaned, too, "Mmm Hmmm." Over
and over as I spurted and spurted into her hot, beautiful mouth.  When
I was drained she vacuum-sucked me for a few minutes, following along
as I sat back onto the edge of the bed.

She removed her mouth from me and looked up.  As she did, I noticed
some cum had escaped past her lips.  She licked it away and said,
grinning from ear to ear, "Betcha Sam can't do that!" I laughed and
said, "You're right, but I didn't hear you purr, either!" She giggled.

She looked so cute I moved my head forward and down and kissed her.
Her mouth was super-soft from the sucking and tasted of hot saliva and
cum.  As we kissed, she moaned into my mouth.  I let the feeling
overtake me and moaned back.  The kiss had me feeling as if I was
losing myself into her, being swallowed whole by her wonderful mouth. 
My head felt giddy and I felt a twinge of fear come over me as if I
was about to fall in love and would be exposed and vulnerable to all
of love's insane bullshit.

She quickly put an end to that romantic nonsense.

"Art, we're good together, so good it's scary, but I want us to start
out on an honest footing.  I'm not looking for love, except the naked
kind. I love to suck and fuck, but I don't want any complications in
my life. Not now . . .  or ever." She left it just like that, the "or
ever" hanging out as plain as day.  It was my turn.

"Darling, that's fine by me.  Shit, I've been married five times and I
sure don't want a sixth, no matter how much I already love and adore
you. OK?"

"Five times?" Funny how they pick up on that first thing.

"Yeah.  I marry 'em all!  That way I don't have to keep asking them
for dates." I laughed a good one at my own wit.  She laughed heartily,
too.

Well, the ground rules were now established and, yes, we fucked that
night and it was great.  But I'll save the details for later.  We
became part-time lovers, but more importantly, great friends.  We
trusted each other and became confidantes.  That's how I learned all
about her.  And her Susie Cream Cheese persona.  Little by little,
over time, it all came out. And, the more I knew about her, the sexier
I found her to be.  I'd ask for every juicy detail, living vicariously
through her, and she didn't hesitate to fill me in.  It was wacky and
nutty, but very fantastic.

Once, after a good meal, prepared by either of us, as we both were
quite good at the culinary arts, and over a glass of wine, I would ask
my prurient questions.  The following is merely a smattering of such
conversations.  At some point I started to feel like a lecherous
reporter for Hustler magazine.

"How many men did you end up with?" I trembled as I asked that
question.

"Well, in the end, over 1,500.  1,558 if you demand accuracy!" I did,
as if it mattered.

"Jesus!" I said, my eyes wide open.  "Even if they came into town just
once a year, that's four or five guys a day!  How'd you manage it?" I
was mind-boggled.

"No, hon, it didn't go that way.  I discovered early on that two-
thirds or so never called back for a second taste of the cream Cheese.
Probably too much guilt . . .  and/or they just didn't want to take
the chance that it might get too complicated for them.  You know, fuck
up their well-ordered lives." She grinned at me.  "It sure as shit
wasn't because they found me sexually boring!" She laughed.  I laughed
with her.  She was right about that.

"Tell me," I asked.  "How did it usually go?"

"Well, after three years or so, I had so many men calling when they
were in town that I stopped going to the hotel bars altogether.  This
would go on for a while and then taper off as guys started feeling the
guilts from cheating on the little woman back in Paducah.  Then I
would resume the hotel bar outings until it picked up again.  So, it
would go like that, fluctuating between feast and famine."

"Tell me, Sue, what's your favorite kind of cock?" She thought a bit.

"Well, one between 7" and 8" with a nice head.  The kind of head that
stands out from the shaft a whole lot.  I like a ridge that changes
the shape of my lips as I bump back and forth over it.  I adds to my
pleasure."

"You ever have a cock head swell up just before it came?"

"Oh, yeah.  I like that, too.  Doesn't happen often enough to suit me.
Maybe in a quarter of the guys, maybe less than that.  I like the way
it adds to the pleasure of my thumb counting."

"Thumb counting?"

"Yeah.  I keep my thumb on the base's underside and I can feel his cum
pass under my thumb.  I count the spurts.  Most guys spurt four or
five times.  Some guys, the heavy cummers, spurt seven or more times. 
This one guy, Manny from Philly, spurts ten or eleven times.  I once
held it all in my mouth, without swallowing, and spit it into a paper
cup.  He almost filled the damned thing up!  He holds the record, so
far." I could see how he would.  She went on.

"The three actions, you know, the cum traveling under my thumb, the
head swelling up, and the first spurt all happen within seconds, but
it's so pleasurable I usually cum right after the second spurt.  As
he's cumming, I'm cumming, and it's just euphoric." She put her arms
around herself, closed her eyes and moaned.  "Mmm Hmm!"

"And you like to keep your eyes open, right?"

"Oh, yeah, to be sure.  I love looking at their pubic hair.  And the
cock as it disappears into my mouth.  Very pleasurable.  I sometimes
close my eyes when I'm cumming, but I open them as soon as I can so I
don't miss anything.  Sometimes I can actually see his balls rising up
just before he cums.  Delicious!"

"Fill me in, Sue, on that guy from, where was it?  Texas?  Arizona?
The guy with the biggest schlong you'd ever seen." God, I sounded like
a prick-hungry fag who can't get enough cock descriptions!

"Big Bill.  From New Mexico.  Fucker had 14" and as big around as my
wrist." She held her arm up.  "And he knew how to use it, too.  He
would fuck me for hour upon hour.  His record with me was six times in
four hours. Of course, he was too wide for me to deep-throat, but that
didn't seem to bother him much." She paused and took a sip of wine.
"And, man, could he cum!  In quarts.  He came so much I usually had to
swallow three or four times.  Unbelievable.  And, if he came in my
pussy, well, I'd be dripping out all the way to the john and back.
Like Manny.  From Philly." I nodded.

I asked, "Did you ever get double-clutched, you know, two guys at
once?"

"Yeah, but just with two particular guys.  This guy Teddy called me
and said he was at the blah, blah, hotel in room, blah, blah and would
I join him?  I said sure and then he said, 'Would you mind if a friend
of mine joined us?' I didn't even hesitate.  All I said was the more
the merrier. Well, I had me a ball that lunch hour." She grinned.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to stop from drooling into my glass
of wine.

"Well, once I was in the room, Teddy introduced the guy to me as Ken.
Then, without another word, they were both all over me, feeling me up,
my ass, my tits, going under my skirt and grabbing my puss-puss, like
two horny lechers." She closed her eyes as if remembering.  "Mmm mmm,
it was nice.  Two hot guys and four hands working me over.  My pussy
was dripping like Niagara Falls!  Ooowee!" She shivered.

She opened her eyes, sipped some more and continued her story.  As she
spoke I realized she sounded just like something out of a book.

"Well, they stripped me and got naked, too.  Then Ken pushed me to my
knees and looked down at me and said: 'You like sucking cock, Susie?'
I looked up at him and said I just loved sucking cock.

"Then Ken said, 'Ted tells me you like to swallow cum first, is that
so?' I said it was.  Ken then said something like, 'Good!  Now do us
both at the same time and we'll give you two nice loads.  Then we're
going to fuck you until you say uncle.  OK?' I said it was OK with me.

"So, I sucked them both off, going back and forth from one dick to the
other.  They were both so hot it took less than five minutes to get
them to blow off.  Ken came first and he was no sooner out of me than
Ted put it in and came.  It was all I could do to swallow it all."

"Tell me," I asked.  "What did it feel like to suck two dicks at
once?"

"It felt fabulous.  The taste of their dicks, the smell of their
balls, it was heavenly.  I came over and over as I sucked them off.  I
was so fucking hot that if one of them had said, 'There are a dozen
other guys in the next room who also want a blowjob, Susie.' I would
have said, 'Only twelve?' I swear!" She told me that Ted and Ken
usually came into town about twice a year and they would do their
threesome.  A fourth was never added to the equation.

I had had enough.  My dick couldn't take any more.  I told her to get
her sweet ass around the table and suck my cock for all it was worth. 
She complied and in minutes I flooded her golden mouth with my juice. 
To me, it's the only proper way to wrap up a gourmet dinner.

On another occasion, Susie filled me in on her gang-bang episode.  I
felt as if she was feeding the tales out to me as she thought the
moment to be right.  Shit, the moment, as far as I was concerned, was
always right. But I never raised the issue with her.

Seems this guy Mark, from somewhere, I forget where, came into town
and established that they would spend the weekend together, as they
had many times before.  Over dinner he popped out a proposal.  And not
one of marriage, either.

"Susie, you love to suck and fuck like no other woman I've ever met.
So, tell me, out of curiosity, how many guys do you think you could
fuck, one after the other, in one session?" He let the question just
float around on its own.

"I don't know." Susie said.

"Six?  Seven?"

"Yeah, probably.  Why?" He answered the question with another
question.

"How about twelve?  You think you could suck off and fuck twelve
guys?" He looked absolutely insane, his lips looked parched and he
kept running his tongue over them.  Susie thought some.

"Twelve guys?  Woo!  That's a lot of guys.  But I guess . . .  yeah, I
could manage it, if I wanted to, that is.  Why?  You got twelve guys
in mind, Mark?"

He licked his dry lips.  "Uh . . .  actually . . .  I do.  Guys in my
fly fishing club.  They're all going upstate to one of the guy's cabin
this weekend.  I couldn't help but tell them how fantastic you were,
forgive me, too much wine at the time, and they were just jumping up
and down at the telling."

He looked at her face and when he didn't see any revulsion there he
went on.  "Well, this guy Charlie, you'd like him, Sue, he's real
sweet, well, he asked me to prove you exist at all.  Guy shit, you
know?  To prove it, I have to get you to come to the cabin and do all
of them.  Now, if you do, they said they'd believe all my fishing
yarns from here on out.  And, if you do I will be . . .  "

"I'll do it, Mark.  It sounds like fun." Just like that.  That Mark
was slightly flabbergasted is a given, I imagine.

So, there she was, as naked as Eve, on her knees, with twelve equally
naked Adams forming a circle around her.  She went from dick to dick
around the circle, sucking and sucking.  And, because she had
established the rules from the gitgo, each guy came in her mouth.
Twelve loads of salty, acidic-tasting cum.  And she told me she loved
each and every drop.

Then the first guy who had cum took her into the bedroom and fucked
her. The rest of the men, in no set order, followed him.  While the
rest played penny ante poker, the guy whose turn it was would enter
the room and make love to her in his own special way and manner.  It
ran the gamut from tender to gentle to rough and to everything in
between.  That took care of Friday night.

Saturday's escapades started right after breakfast.  Three guys at a
time went at her.  One in her ass, one in her pussy, and one in her
mouth. This was all done on the bed with the rest of the men standing
there watching and playing with themselves.

They did Susie all day Saturday and all day Sunday, all the way to
midnight of each day.  It was a fuckathon marathon.  They let her nap
whenever she wanted to and when she awoke it was to a wall of hot-ass
erections.  She sucked.  She fucked.  She had hundreds of orgasms.
The men each had four and five a day themselves.  In her mouth, her
pussy, her ass. Cum City.

As much as she had enjoyed herself, she informed poor Mark that it
wasn't going to happen again.  He protested, but her mind was made up.
It was just too fucking much in her mind.

Right after Susie told me this scenario, I ate her pussy out for
twenty minutes or so, then we sixty-nined and then we fucked like two
lunatic bunnies.  As I ate her and fucked her I couldn't help but
picture her with the twelve men.  What a scene!  Lordy, how I wished I
had it on film.

As we laid in bed afterwards, my arms around her, I decided it was
time to introduce her to my penchant for mouth pissing.  Most folks
think it's sick, but I ain't like most folks.

"Susie, tell me, did any of your dates ever want to piss in your
mouth?" Lay it out, flat and simple.

"Yeah, a few guys.  I told them no and that I thought it was sick.
Why? You into that sort of weird thing?"

"Yes.  All five of my wives were, too.  I pissed in all their mouths.
They loved it, too.  Three of them even told me it was as if I was
coming the world's biggest load." I waited for her response.

"Really?  But what about the taste?  Ugh!  And fucking yucky!  Didn't
they all say it tasted like . . .  well . . .  piss?"

I squeezed her to me.  "Well, my dear, like Scotch, it's an acquired
taste, but there are tricks one can do to fool the taste buds
somewhat. Like gargling with Listerine beforehand.  Or eating a piece
of pickle.  It doesn't totally get rid of the taste, but it makes it .
. .  let's say . .. more palatable.  Oh, and if I drink two or three
beers before I piss, it actually taste somewhat sweet.  Must be the
yeast in the beer, I guess." I waited again, giving her another
squeeze.

"Man, Arthur, you are one crazy fucker!  I never know what you're
going to come up with next.  But, you crazy fuck, you've made it sound
almost nice, so, fuck it, I'm game.  I'll try it once and if I don't
like it I ain't doing it again.  OK?"

"Bless you, my child.  You are a gem.  And, come to think of it, I
gotta piss right now!  What say we retire to the bathroom, old girl?"
I felt her head nod.

She knelt before me.  In the tub, just in case.  I pinched the base of
my dick to stop the flow.  I looked down at her beautiful face and
said, "Now, I'll just let it spurt a little at a time.  At first.
I'll do that just twice because it will start to hurt me if I keep
pinching it off more than that.  You swallow twice real quickly like. 
Then, when I'm going to flood, start swallowing rapidly.  You know,
swallow, swallow, swallow.  Got that?" She nodded up at me.  She
looked petrified, but excited.

"OK," I said.  "Now put your mouth on it and we'll do it." She
complied and her hot mouth was wonderful.  The idea that I was about
to now piss into it had me on cloud nine.  Oh, you beautiful woman,
you.

I uncorked the base and let out a spurt.  I heard her swallow.  I
repeated this and again heard her swallow.  She had not complained.
So far, so good.  But, it was starting to pain me now.

"You ready for my flood?" I asked quickly, impatient for the answer.
She made an "Mmm Hmm." on my limp, piss-filled penis.  "Here we go." I
said.

Aaah, how good it felt to release the pinched off base.  I just let it
loose and it was so fine.  I looked down at her face as she swallowed
and swallowed to see if I could detect the usual wincing.  It wasn't
there. She looked serene and peaceful.  Then she lifted my heart right
through the roof.  She moaned.  A good moan.  A moan of total
enjoyment.  She liked it! And, as sure as shit, I liked her liking it.

When I had no more piss to give her, she surprised me because she just
kept sucking on me.  It felt so nice I was getting hard.  I bent over,
my penis leaving her mouth, tilted her head up and kissed her.  My
tongue shared the taste of piss with her as we moaned into each
other's mouths.  I kept kissing her for a good five minutes before
replacing my tongue with my cock.

She sucked me off and I came in her sweet mouth.  "That, old girl, is
what some folks call a piss cocktail with a cum chaser." She laughed
and I followed suit.

Over time, my pissing in her mouth became a routine deal.  Sometimes,
Susie would ask me if I had to go.  I never failed to oblige the dear
woman who had the ability to constantly surprise me.  And she sure
surprised me on one occasion when I happened to be at her apartment.

We had just finished a great meal and I was eager for a new tale of
hers. But she had something better in mind.  She told me she had a
surprise for me and I was to wait a sec while she retrieved it.  As I
sat looking at a Picasso print on her wall trying to figure out what
he was all about, I had no idea what to expect.

"Here!" she said as she approached me.  It was a large photo album.  I
put it on my lap, opened it up, and was floored.  It was chock-full of
close-up pictures of men's cocks.  Some in black and white, but most
were in dazzling skin color.  And they were all polaroids.

At the bottom of each picture was a neatly typed label with the guy's
first name and a date.  Charles, 11/2/79, Marty, 2/2/80, etc.  Well
blow me down!

On the inside front cover was a printed label from the album
manufacturer.  It said there were 100 pages in the album which meant
200 usable pages, if you used both the front and back.  She had.

I went to the back of the album and saw that, as a guesstimate, she
had filled up around 60 pages or so.  With nine pictures per page I
rough-calculated that she had over 1,000 cock shots.  Each dick fully
erect and none out of focus.  Susie knew her Polaroid photography very
well, it seemed.

Here and there, perhaps every other page, there were two pictures of
the same guy.  One with just the guy's cock and one with Susie's mouth
on his cock.  In each blowjob shot, she looked as if she had found
heaven.  A heaven in which she had her eyes wide open as she stared at
pubic hair.

Even her hands added to the heavenly mood.  She had her thumb on the
underside of the base and her first two fingers gently on top.  Her
ring finger and pinky were poised in the air, resting lightly against
his belly, as if daintily holding a very delicate wine glass.

Anyone, even the world's biggest dufus, would know just from looking
that here was a woman who not only loved giving head she was a
virtuoso at it.  An adept artiste of the cocksucking kind.  I was
beyond amazed, I was stupified.

As Susie refreshed our wine glasses, I perused page after page after
page.  Cock, cock, cock, suck, cock, etcetera.  No one, even the
greatest and most famous urologist, had ever seen such an assemblage
of men's dicks as the one I had in my hot little hands.  Talk about a
tour de force!  It was overwhelming.

I had always known that nature abhorred sameness and monotony, but I
never realized just how much until now.  There were very few cocks
that looked alike.  Even those that looked like a close match had
their differences.  Blond pubic hair versus black, veiny as opposed to
smooth, and so forth.

And the mix!  There were long and short cocks and medium, too.  Fat
and skinny ones.  Those that curved up, or down, or even out to the
side. Large cock heads, small cock heads, and some that almost blended
into the shaft.  Blunt cock heads, plum shaped ones, or mushroom
shapes of all stripes, and some so big they seemed alien by nature.
Even the pee holes were varied.  Small holes, invisible holes, and
some so large you could have stuck a navel gem into them and had room
to spare.  Amazing.

It was, to totally understate it, some fucking collection.  My little
Susie was undoubtedly the cockologist of the century and no doubt
would hold the title far into the next millennium.  If anyone ever
topped it, that is.

Then a thought hit me.  I felt left out!  Ignored even.  A tad
jealous, maybe.  I felt if anyone's pecker belonged in her treasure
trove of boners, it was mine.  Why hadn't she asked if she could
Polaroid my cute and cuddly woody?  I looked over at her.  I was hurt.

"Why haven't you taken a picture of my little petunia, sweetie?"

She reached behind her chair and brought forth a camera and said,
singsong like, "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!" I laughed.  She had
anticipated me so easily I felt as open as the album I had on my lap.

"Now?" was all I could think of to say.  Dufus.

"Why not?  Get outta them clothes you pervert and let's start
clicking!"

Well, she not only took some great shots of my dick and her sucking on
it, but she honored me by making me the only one in the entire album
to have two whole pages, facing each other as a spread.  And, if these
things matter, I was also the only one of the boys whose cum was
photographed.  In two shots.  One with my cum shooting through the air
and going into her open mouth and one showing her mouth open with her
tongue all gooey from the stuff.  I was feeling proud.

Well, until I can remember more of her escapades, I'll leave you for
now. Suffice it to say that Susie still answered when one of her boys
strolled into town.  Many times, with little coaxing from me, she
would fill me in on all the juicy details.  And her exotic tales were
always followed by a rousing game of slap and tickle.

Susie and I were lovers for five years or more before she succumbed to
breast cancer.  Shit, I'm the smoker--not her.  Not that cancer cares
a rat's ass.

She's been gone ten years now and I still miss her.  A day can't go by
without me thinking about her.  Her playful ways.  And the smell of
her. Her wicked, deliciously evil smile.  The sound of her laugh and
even the way she spoke.  Christ, I can't remember how many mornings
I'd wake up with the smell of her hair in my nostrils.

I love you Susie Cream Cheese.  From the bottom of my soul and more
than all of my five wives put together and beyond the moon.  You ever
decide to come back and haunt me, woman, I'd love it and I might even
believe in God again.

And don't you worry none, hon.  I used the spare housekey you gave me
and I cleaned up all traces of your erotic adventures, as I'm sure you
would have wanted me to.  I didn't just erase your files, I removed
the hard drive altogether, busted it up good and tossed it into the
East river.

I couldn't get to your office PC, but as you said those files had no
erotica of any kind on them.  And your wonderland photo album?  I
didn't have the heart to burn it, sweets.  It resides under my bed in
a drawer. And, as you probably suspect, I take it out often and beat
my meat while looking at the pictures and thinking of you.

If I kick the bucket and someone stumbles on it, they'll merely think
I'm weird or gay, or both.  But fuck 'em where they breathe, girl, for
I don't care a fig.

Writing all this, Susie dear, has me, ahem, in the mood.  I think I'll
go and get me some pictures to drool over.  Ta ta, darling.

The End.