Tina Morales stood before the full-length mirror. She hated what she saw, hated the size forty-inch tits that were starting to sag, hated the little white spots that stained her cheeks -- little white spots on her cheeks?
What the hell was that?
Oh no, it had to be cum! A lot of cum that must have come from a pretty hefty pair of balls for that much jizz to stain her rouged cheeks.
"Shit!" she moaned, trying to work her fingernails under the pasty-dried cum stains that stuck to her skin like year-old band aids.
"Shit!" she moaned again when the first cum drop stain peeled off her face, taking with it a couple of millimeters of olive-tanned skin.
"What the fuck are you doing?" came a husky voice from behind her.
"What the fuck do you care?"
"I care a lot -- so what are you doing? Picking your zits? Ha, ha, ha!"
Tina spun around, looked very angry, looked very mean at the husky, hairy man sitting propped up in bed, the sheets arched before him as if little elves had pitched a tent at his crotch.
"Fuck you," Tina spat.
"I wish."
"You wish what?" Tina replied in pissed-off fashion.
"I wish you'd fuck me."
"Christ, we just finished fucking. What the fuck do you wanta fucka again for? Jesus fucking Christ!"
"You sure say fuck a lot."
"Fuck you."
"I wish. Ha, ha, ha."
Tina raised her eyes to the ceiling, wished there really was a God that could make her understand what the fuck that man was saying that made him talk in ridiculous circles. But she knew there wasn't a God because a good, kind God would not have condemned her to such a fucked-up life.
"Hey, did you hear what I said, Tina? I wish you'd fuck."
Tina turned back, refusing to tell the guy to get fucked, because then he would just say, "I wish," and then she'd say, "Get fucked," and they'd be going in endless circles when all she wanted was her money for giving the guy a fucking so she could go home.
"I'll give you fifty bucks if you fuck my cock now."
Hmmmm? Christ! Fifty bucks for a fuck -- when the hell was the last time she got fifty bucks for letting a prick enter her cunt?
She took a chance. "Make it fifty-five and you got your self some pussy to fuck."
Tina could hear the guy digging into his wallet. "All right, fifty-five it is. But first you got to give me a five-minute suck job. All right?"
"Fuck."
"I wish. Ha, ha, ha!"
"Ah, shit! What the fuck's wrong with you anyway?" Tina said, spinning around and facing the arched tent and the blustery-looking face above it. "You got a one-track mind or something?"
"I just wish that you'd fuck me for fifty dollars and give me a five-minute suck job for another five bucks. All right?"
Hold that thought a moment, which was a hard thing to do because in her business all the thinking was done by her pussy and not her brains.
Well, shit, she had to eat because she knew if she didn't eat and keep her body in shape then her pussy wouldn't be able to do all the thinking about how many pricks she could fuck in a day to keep her body alive so that it would take on some more pricks the next day.
"Okay. Suck for five, then fuck for fifty."
"All right, Tina! Get up here and start making mouth music!"
Tina ambled over to the bed. She crawled to the tented crotch, removed the sheet.
Jeezus, the smell of fuck juice was all over that ten-inch cock -- shit, she could see specks of dried cum-balls all over that hunk of cock-meat.
"Come on, Tina-baby! Get your mouth on my prick and go to town. Eat that big bugger, baby. Eat it all! And don't you worry about the time, 'cause I'll just keep my watch real near your face so you can stop sucking after five minutes. Come on, Tina With The Tight Lips, start sucking!"
Tina With The Tight Lips was ready to gag. And retch. Maybe even throw up.
Why don't these assholes ever wash their pricks?
Not even ten-buck hookers want to touch something that wouldn't pass the board of health. Shit, she thought... and, naturally, that's what his cock tasted like.
Tina had a long tongue to go with her tight lips -- a good combination for a girl who thinks with her pussy and makes a living alleviating big pricks like this one of all that white junk that's in their balls.
Her long tongue snaked out, swiped across the drooling cock-slit.
"Ooooooh, Tina! You got the best act of cocksucking lips in the country. Come on, get down on my prick and swallow it all! Come on, Tina-baby, I know you can swallow all of my cock!"
Tina knew she could swallow all of his prick, too. Shit, it was only a ten-incher, pretty normal size for a girl who thinks with her pussy and eats foot-long cocks for warm-ups.
Before gorging herself on all that prime prick-meat, she glanced at the watch that was strapped to a hairy tattooed wrist that was Indies from her face.
Only four minutes and thirty seconds to go.
She gave the cock a gum job that special talent whores have for making pussies out of their mouths instead of a bear to with sharp teeth. She munched her way down to half mast.
"Oooooh, Tina! Whatta mouth! Whatta cocksucking mouth! You got the best mouth in town. Shit! All the salesmen tell me that."
Tina's best mouth in town was moving lower, gobbling up the hot and eager inches of that cock like a Wienerschnitzel special. Shit, she knew she was a good cocksucker. Hell, this had to be at least the thousandth prick she had sucked this year -- not counting the repeat customers, of course.
Tina smelled cum.
Yeech! Those stubborn cum-drops were plastered to the tangle of hair that sprouted like a mesquite bush all around the base of the cock she was eating. She beat a fast retreat, her mouth sucking up whatever loose foreskin (which wasn't much) as she made her way topside.
"Oooooh, go down, now, Tina-baby! Suck my prick all the way down. Then suck it hard all the way up. Come on, Tina-baby, suck up and down!"
Shit, he didn't have to tell her how to suck cocks. She knew experience counted in the field of sucking pricks at a dollar a minute. Her head bobbed like a yo-yo, bobbing up and down, up and down.
Spit and pre-cum foamed around her lips, splattered on the hairy growth that was sometimes an inch away, sometimes ten inches away, depending on which way her head was bobbing.
"Ooooh, Tina! Look, I got four minutes to go. Keep it up! Jeezus! My cum is just oozing out ail over. Taste it, Tina! Taste my jizz!"
Some cum taste rancid, some cum taste tart, this guy's cum had an Oriental flavor -- sweet and sour. Mostly the sweetness stuck to her tongue when she moved her tight lips up the shaft, and the sour came when she was going down the ten-inch shaft.
"Ooooh, suck all that sweet juice, baby! Ooooh, fucking God, whatta mouth! Uuuum, eat it up, Tina-baby! Eat my whole prick!"
Tina ate and ate, sucked and sucked, had sweet then sour, had his cock on the fine edge of coming, had her mouth filled full of taut prick ready to hunt -- had a Goddamn dizzy spell 'cause her fucking head was moving so fast on that fucking prick.
The noises became obscene.
The sounds sounded very lewd.
The guy was full of lust and cum.
And Tina was gum full of prick.
She couldn't help making obscene noises when she slurped and sucked on prick -- most girls have a hard time front keeping their drool from running all over cocks anyhow. But for some reason, Tina always drooled a lot when she sucked pricks, and now the guy's cock looked as if it had rabies as white foamy stuff appeared all over the shaft, before the shaft disappeared into Tina's drooly mouth.
Three minutes to go. Two dollars down, three to go.
"Oooooh, Tina! I ain't gonna make it! I can't hold back! You'd better. AAAAIIIEEEEE!"
Now it wasn't drool that leaked around the edges of her cock-filled mouth. It was cum, sweet and sour, frothy as Barbasol, spewing out of a prick that felt more like a fucking firehouse in her mouth.
The best mouth in town soon became the best gulping mouth in town as Tina tried her best to keep up with the shots of jizz that poured into her throat.
"AAAAIIIEEEE -- HERE'S ANOTHER -- AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Tina took that shot right on the tonsils, didn't even have to swallow because the blast of cum was already on its way to her belly.
"SUCK THIS ONE -- AAAAIIEEEEEE."
Another blast, not as powerful a the fist shot of jizz. And Tina had to work her throat to get it past her tonsils.
Gulp.
"TAKE THIS ONE -- AAAIIIEEE!"
Gulp.
Every blast became weaker now, and Tina had to swallow hard to get that sweet and sour juice down into her throat. But it was a hard task because so much of his cum had made a cobwebbed mess out of her gums and tongue that it felt like she was eating greasy, snot and sour peanut butter.
"Oooooh, I ain't got no more juice left, babe! You got it all."
Tina smiled -- well, what she really did was: she took her lips off that cock, licked off the cummy snowcap that adorned the shrively cockhead, then she smiled.
Then were still two minutes left.
Not bad for the fastest mouth in town.
Tina felt relieved. Shit, it was hard work sucking the last cock of the day. Christ, how many in America could have used their gums for gumming on cocks for seven pricks a night, seven nights a week?
Not too many.
Oh, most American girls could probably cock suck three or four a night, but Tina knew they probably couldn't do it seven nights a week.
Tina sat up, watched the man with the hairy, ass and hairy back get into his boxer shorts, then hide his hairy legs in a pair of Haggar slacks.
"Shit, Tina, you got the best mouth in town."
"Yeah, thanks."
"Well, see ya."
"Hey... hey! Wait a minute! We gotta fuck yet. I'm supposed to get fifty bucks for fucking you."
"Jesus! What are you, Tina, some kind of cock-hungry whore? Shit, you know I can't get it up again -- not after a suck job like that! Christ, whatta greedy whore!"
"You bastard! You tricked me. I sucked your cock for five bucks and then I was supposed to fuck you for fifty. So get over here and let me fuck you."
A dollar-bill floated to the bed. "Here, that's your tip for a suck job that was so good that I can't get it up any more. And, if I can't get it up, how the fuck am I supposed to fuck you?"
Tina wanted to bawl, wanted to scream. She was thinking angry thoughts, trying to use her brains for all the trouble her pussy had caused.
But what could she do?
Go to the better business bureau?
Was the customer always right?
The motel door closed quietly. Tina screamed out: "Fuck you, too!"
The motel door opened very quickly. "I wish. Ha, ha, ha!"
Then the motel door closed very quietly and very quickly, and Tina sat on the business end of her body beginning to boo-hoo for being tricked by a trick.
Chapter Two
Suzy Cocteau had an IQ of 156, a body of 38-22-36, all at the age of twenty-eight.
She was good in math. Shit, when she had graduated from Tweedy High School she was voted most likely to succeed in the field of accounting.
But her favorite subjects were history and English and social studies and French and, home economics. Shit, Suzy Cocteau was a near genius.
She was what every man wishes his daughter to be: smart about dumb-ass things like school, and dumb about smart-ass things like life.
Suzy couldn't help being smart in a dumb-ass way, just like she couldn't help being dumb in a smart-ass way.
Textbooks were where she had learned about life, so that made her real smart when it came to knowing who the eighteenth presidonte of Argentina was, and what was the name of Geronimo's favorite home, and how to tell time at the South Pole when the sun was down and she couldn't see her watch.
People used to say that Suzy knew little about life because her parents were very overprotective of darling little Suzy.
"Nonsense," her father Pierre Cocteau would say. "Suzy only wears two bras because when she was a baby she'd always get chest colds."
"Pooh-pooh," her mother Joan Cocteau would say. "Suzy always takes three hankies to school in case someone cuts their arm and needs a tourniquet."
"Bullshit," her brother Jacques Cocteau would say. "Suzy, always sucks her thumb because the orthodontist told her it would help to straighten out her buck teeth."
So, when Suzy was a senior in high school, ready to leave the hallowed halls of Tweedy High School, she was ready to tackle life head-on -- with her reports cards in one hand, her health-history file in the other, her lucky charms on one bracelet, her purse hanging from the other wrist, and a $5.95 rosary bouncing against the two bras she wore.
Yep, Suzy Cocteau was ready for college, but was college ready for her?
The first semester proved to be pure hell for Suzy.
Dorm life was pure torture. Why, girls actually ran naked down the halls to take their showers!
And dorm girls always talked about men's things, those abominable things that men... had... you know... down there... just below their bellies and... just above their thighs.
One girl, Holly Hoover, was a real shocker. Why, she would actually stick her ass -- her big, bare ass -- out the dorm window and tell dumb freshman guys to eat her pussy.
Suzy thought that was horrible, she just couldn't imagine anybody eating dessert that late at night.
Suzy's mother had told her often enough that eating late at night kept her from having a good night's rest.
The only comfort Suzy had while living in Dame Folker Hall was her roommate -- a tiny thing straight out of Mater Nostrum High School with a scholastic record that sparkled with the first letter of the alphabet.
The tiny thing's name was Alice Handler and she was cute in a doll-like way.
Alice had a pert nose, two dimples that had just as much depth when she smiled as when she cried. Button eyes, nice clean wholesome hair that always looked washed and shiny, gleamy teeth. Alice, facially, was very cute.
Below the neckline Alice Handler was not cute -- she was fucking ravishing!
Nobody, absolutely nobody, in Dame Folker Hall had a set of tits like Alice Handler, or a better set of swively hips, or a better set of huggable asscheeks.
Jesus, Alice Handler was just dynamite -- an explosive five-foot-two, eyes-of-blue piece of cunt with a cute face.
And, of course, everybody liked Alice Handler -- especially the guys.
But Suzy also liked Alice Handler.
Why, Alice would let Suzy borrow her shoes, her makeup, anything and everything... well, everything except those huge, mammoth-cupped Maidenform bras that Alice had to order custom-made. And, besides, it would have looked ridiculous for Suzy to wear two of Alice's bras on cold winter days.
Suzy and Alice got along very well for the first month of school.
Then something happened that ended their fine relationship.
It was all very weird to Suzy, but it was easy to suspect something was wrong, or that something funny was going an late at night when she would feel the coven being taken off her sleepy body and she could feel a pair of button eyes just staring at her.
At first, Suzy thought she was dreaming -- thought she was just imagining that somebody was looking at her as she half dozed in her Mickey Mouse pajamas.
But then she found out that someone was there, that there was someone looking at her as she slept.
Suzy found out on a Tuesday night, a hot Tuesday night that had forced her to sleep minus her Mickey Mouse pajamas.
And what woke her up was a clicking sound.
Click. Click. Click.
At first, Suzy thought it was simply the cockroaches that sneaked out at night to munch on dead flies. But then again, Suzy was such a hygiene-conscious person that she remembered that there were four No-Pest strips tacked to the four corners of the room.
No, she knew it wasn't pests bugging her room. When Suzy opened her eyes, she was dazed by the desk lamp that had been goosenecked down and shining directly at her bed. Then she found out what kind of pest was busing her at night, making those fix tiny click-click noises.
Click. Click. Click.
"W-What are you doing, Alice?" Suzy was wide-eyed awake now, taking in the shadowy form that stood outside the beam of light.
"Oh, well... I'm just taking some pictures."
"Pictures!" Suzy sat up, fully realizing that Alice had been taking pictures of her body, in her two bras and white cotton panties. "B-But, w-why?"
"Oh, I sell them to the guys in Hartford Hall."
"WHAT?!"
"What d'ya mean, what?! I make a lot of money at it. Besides, I gotta pay for my education somehow."
"B-But, how l-long have you b-been doing this, Alice?"
"Well, not very long... tonight's been the best night though, 'cause you're not wearing those Goddamned Mickey Mouse pajamas."
Click. Click. Click.
"ALICE! PLEASE!" Suzy scrambled out of bed, went to her desk and rummaged through it to find her Mickey Mouse pajamas.
The beam coming from the goosenecked lamp followed her frantic form, cast her curvaceous, two-breasted shadow against the wall.
Click. Click. Click.
"PLEASE! WHY ARE YOU D-DOING this, ALICE? I t-thought you w-were a nice girl!"
Alice stepped into the light. "Suzy, I just couldn't pass up the price for giving up all my niceness."
Suzy spun around, holding her Mickey Mouse pajamas in front of her body like a chicken-shit bullfighter hiding behind his cape. The cape lowered, and Suzy peered over Mickey Mouse's left ear. "YOU'RE NAKED!"
Alice looked down at her size forty-inch tits. "Yeah, I'm naked... how'd you notice?"
Suzy said: "Because you don't have any clothes on!"
Alice sat down on her bed, laying the camera down beside her. "You wanta know something, Suzy Cocteau... you're really remarkable. There's nothing wrong with running around naked. Look at me, I'm naked and I'm all right... don't you think?"
The cape went over Suzy's head and slowly fluttered over her head as she hastily stuck her arms into the sleeves. Mickey Mouse smiled fully now as Suzy quickly buttoned up the top.
"I think... I think... I think I'm going to cry."
Suzy cried, very hard. Cried like she hadn't cried since she was eight years old and she got a spanking for playing in the dirt and getting her hands dirty and her mother yelling: "Don't touch that dirt! It's dirty!"
Alice sat down beside Suzy. "It's all right, Suzy. Take it easy. I wouldn't sell these pictures to just anyone."
Suzy sniffled, opened up one of the fourteen boxes of Kleenex that her mother had packed in one suitcase when she went off to school.
"Then why d-did you t-take those nasty photos of me... when I was, oh gosh, almost n-naked," Suzy sobbed.
"Because I thought maybe you'd want to buy them back."
Suzy stopped crying. Could she believe her ears? Well, her ears were very real -- but it was Alice who wasn't. Or at least that's what Suzy thought then. Shoot, Alice was her friend, her roommate, her nice-girl buddy.
Suzy was determined to get to the bottom of this. She summed up a lot of courage and determination, and she said: "Why?"
"Why not?"
Now what could she do?
Suzy felt as if she were being blackmailed. She felt as if her friend had turned out not to be her friend and was a very nasty person who only wanted to do harm to her.
In real life, of course, that's what Alice was -- but Suzy had been too sheltered from real life and had been raised to believe that there weren't any rapists in the world, and that nigger boys never wanted to fuck the shit out of honky chicks, and that people never picked their noses and said nasty words like: Balls!
"Now, Suzy, here's how you pay me. I need forty dollars a week, which you can give me in cash, and I need to borrow your bonehead English book for the rest of the semester."
Suddenly Suzy realized that life was cruel, that there were people who ran over day-old kittens and laughed while they did it. Oh, gosh.
"But I-I don't have that much money, Alice."
"Yea, I know. I've seen your checkbook. But I know how you can get it."
"How?"
"By going out with some guys from Hartford Hall."
"Oh no! I can't... not yet. My mom and dad would be very angry... oh no! I can't do that!"
Alice casually glanced through some photos, some very recent photos, some that were taken just last week when Suzy was cuddled up wearing her Goofy set of pajamas and her hand was resting innocently on her thigh.
"That's me!"
"Yep, that's right," Alice answered smugly. "Now, your first date is set up with Michael Mangallo..."
Chapter Three
Michael Mangallo -- the name sounded very foreign to Suzy as she waited near the bushes outside of Dame Folker Hall.
Oh, her father would just kill her if he found out she was going out with a foreign student!
But, then again, Suzy realized, he would just crucify her if he found out that she was going to give her first hand-job to the first customer that her pimp and blackmailer Alice Handler had lined up.
Three shrill whistles came from the other side of the poinsettia bushes.
Oh gosh! He was in there! Her first date with a man, conveniently arranged, of course, by Alice Handler, was already in the bushes awaiting for her to... oh gosh, she couldn't go through with it!
"Psst! Psst! Psst!"
Suzy looked up, saw a huge-titted figure hanging out of one of the third-floor windows of Dame Folker Hall. It was Alice, and she was aiming a flashlight at something in her hand.
Gosh! It was a photo of her with just panties and two bras on.
Now the flashlight was pointing directly at Suzy's face.
"Get your fucking ass into those bushes, Suzy. Or I'll show these photos to your old man."
Suzy gulped. She felt so cold and shivery -- not so much from fear but because of the way she was dressed. Alice had been very helpful in picking out what she should wear for tonight; or what she shouldn't wear.
Suzy Cocteau was dressed minus panties and two bras for the first time in her life and her hour-glass figure could readily be seen through the negligee that Alice had so kindly lent her for the occasion. Along with the stem warning: "You get any fucking dirt on this, Suzy, and I'll send copies of those photos to your mom, too (up to now, Alice had only threatened to send those blackmail photos to Suzy's father)."
Not wanting to hurt her mother's or her father's reputation, Suzy took a deep breath and trampled through the bushes.
"Wow!"
The voice came from Suzy's right, very close to her right side. So close that she could feel hot breath on her naked thigh. Then something else was against her naked thigh. Something with fingernails and sweat -- it was his hand!
Michael Mangallo's hand was on her thigh!
Suzy jumped back, but the pointy poinsettia bushes gouged her ass and she could get no farther than six inches away from that clammy hand.
"Hey, I ain't gonna hurt you. Shit, I paid good money for this... money I saved to buy my history books. And Alice said you were a hot chick. So come on down here and let's make it, baby!"
Suzy broke out in a sweat, and after the sweat came the hives that she always got when she was cold and sweaty. And she remembered her mother's advice about putting Calamine lotion on everytime she got cold and sweaty. "Hi. How are you tonight, Michael," Suzy said mechanically -- it was what Alice had told her to say. "What do you want me to do... do you want to make love to me? Do you want to."
"Hey, how come you talk like a fucking robot?"
"Huh?"
"Will you get your ass down here on this blanket? Shit, we're gonna run outta moonlight if we don't get it on."
Suzy didn't know what to do. Alice had said that it would be easy. Just do what Alice told her to do. Just make love like Alice had told her to do.
But Alice never told her that he was going to grab her firm thighs and force her down to a blanket painfully and gouge the shit out of her titties and run his hands all over her silvery flesh.
Suzy couldn't believe it -- it felt like she was lying in a pit full of sweaty snakes.
"Please -- be nice, I..."
"Aw, come on, chick. Look at the moon. It's gonna be gone in a half hour, and I won't see what the fuck I'm doing!"
Suzy was dumbfounded. What did fuck mean? She wasn't dumbfounded long though because her mind was on his hands. She chased after his hands as they played hide and seek all over her body.
Oh gosh, his hands seemed to be everywhere on her body.
Suzy began to struggle. No! Oh no! His hands were on her breasts.
"Oooooh, chick! Whatta set of tits! Christ, and they got goosebumps all over them! Jesus! You must be hotter than hell to fuck!" Suzy struggled harder, but now the negligee was up around her neck, choking her. And everytime I she made a grab for her negligee to pull it down, his hand and mouth would attack her titties.
His mouth?
HIS MOUTH WAS ON HER TITTES! OH NO!
"Oh no! Please, nobody's ever..."
"Yeah, I know, chick. Nobody's ever turned you on like I am. Ain't that right? Jesus fucking Christ! Your titties are so fucking hot! Quit moving around so much so I can suck the shit out of them."
SUCK THEM!? NO, NO, NO!
Her titties just weren't made for a man to put his lips on and gorge on and titillate with his tongue. Tits were made to be put into two bras "to protect you from chest colds" as her mother had told her so many times.
Suzy struggled, strained, started to scream: "AHHHHH!"
The reason she couldn't scream was because something hairy was now on top of her body and something wet and grainy was, in her mouth.
He was kissing her! He was putting his tongue in her mouth! What would her mother say? Germs! Dirty and nasty!
Suzy tried to close her mouth, tried to force that vile tongue out of her mouth with her own tongue. Then, suddenly, her tongue was being sucked into his mouth, being sucked in so hard that she could taste the pizza the dorm kids had for dinner.
Suzy tried to push him away, tried to tongue-shove his lips away from hers, tried to force his hands away from her titties, tried to close her thighs to the knee that he was forcing up hard against her crotch.
They both struggled now, straining and lurching together, and Michael Mangallo -- all the guys at Hartford Hall called him Mangy -- was into his way of making love. With lots of sweat and grunts and slippery fleshy noises.
Suzy got her fingernails into his bare hairy back, started to plow eight bloody furrows down his spine when she realized another hard fact of life.
HE WAS NAKED!
Or was he?
She ran her hands lower as she maintained the duel with his tongue. Maybe he was just topless.
Sure, lots of guys ran around campus without their shirts on. Her hands moved lower until she gripped his sweaty asscheeks.
GOD! HE WAS NAKED -- ALL OVER! HE WAS NAKED -- EVERYWHERE!
Then Suzy began to realize a lot of hard facts of life. First that wasn't his knee against her crotch. That was something just as bony and just as tricky.
IT WAS HIS THING!
Suzy fought really hard now. She was jabbing at his tongue with as much force as her mouth could muster. She thrust her tit-heavy chest at his hairy pectorals to try and heave him off her body. She moved her thighs together, trying to prevent that knee-hard thing from moving so fast against her loins.
"BABY! Whatta hot one you are! Christ, the way you kiss is out of sight!"
Suzy couldn't believe it.
"And look at your titties now! Oh man, I hope that moon never goes down. Look at the way they're all pointy and stiff!"
Suzy shook her head, didn't want to see how pointy her titties were, didn't want to hear what a good tongue job she gave to the first man she had ever kissed.
"And God! My cock feels like it's in your unit already! Oooooh, keep moving your thighs like that! Oh God!"
Suzy refused to hear it. She dapped her hands over her ears and barely caught the first of Michael "Mangy" Mangallo's words as he said: "... now we're ready to fuck!"
Oh God! Suzy was beginning to realize that fuck was a bad word. It had to be a bad word because of the way he said it. Fuck had to be as bad as those people who always say: Balls!
Slobber was running down her tits now as Michael's dark, shadowy form loomed over her. He was fumbling around with something down where her thighs were pinched hard together.
A crinkly sound?
Was that what she heard?
She uncapped her ears.
Yes, it was the same sound that she had heard countless times in the kitchen when her mother tore off squares of aluminum foil then boiled them so they'd be sanitary and clean when she wrapped them around left-over meat.
Suzy strained, tried to rise. She was upon her elbows when she felt a hand on her head.
"No, hey, chick, you don't have to give me a blow job. Let me get this Trojan on and then we'll just do it missionary style."
Blow job?
Trojan?
Missionary style?
Suzy's textbook mind went over the terms -- could Michael mean that he was going to rob a bank with some Jesuit Greeks?
No, that's not what old Mangy meant -- Suzy could see what he meant now because he had turned sideways to her to throw that crinkly thing into the nearest poinsettia bush. And when he turned profile in the moonlight, she noticed something very unusual about his configuration.
At first it looked as if he had run into the fat end of a baseball bat and half the shaft had been embedded in his lower belly. But the way he gripped it and gave it a few limber tugs, Suzy knew it wasn't any baseball bat because it had a rubbery look.
Then Mangy had turned back toward her, and from his kneeling position he attacked Suzy.
Suzy didn't know it was an attack. Her thighs had been caught unaware. Her cunt had been caught defenseless.
In fact, she downright stared at him as he grunted and sweated down near her lower body, trying to jam that bat-like object at her inner thighs.
"Ouch! Oh! Ugh!"
"Come on, Goddamn it! Where the fuck's your cunt?"
Fuck? Cunt? What does it ail mean?
Then it happened very suddenly. Another hard fact of a life. A very hard fact of life.
Suzy knew it happened because she was screwing: "AAAAIIIEEEE! STOP! NO! PLEASE! I'VE NEVER..."
And Mangy was screaming: "Yeah, I know, hot cunt! You never felt a ten-inch cock in your cunt, right?"
"AAAIIIEEEE!"
Then the pain really shocked her.
At first the sudden banal attack on her pussy had numbed her cunt-lips. But now the huge head of his cockhead was making bloody headway into her virgin pussy.
Suzy tried to squirm like a worm any from that feeling of pain that was entering her belly. She tried to bring her thighs together, but her legs were cramped, and the more she bore down, the more her muscles in her lower body felt as if she had the worst menstrual cramps that she had ever experienced.
She bit her lips, tears sprang from her eyes.
"AAARRGGGHHH! SHIT, BABY! CHRIST, YOU MUST HAVE BEEN FUCKING SOME MIDGET'S PRICK. GODDAMN, YOUR CUNT'S SO FUCKING TIGHT!"
The cramps were getting worse, but not half as worse as the horrible agony that she felt deep in the guts of her pussy. It felt as if half her insides were being shoved up to her lung.
"AAAIHIEEEE! OH GOD! PLEASE!"
"Ooooh, baby! You want more cock! Well here it comes!"
Mangy shoved with all his might and he broke past the barrier of her tough cherry and his cock was home free.
"AAAIHEEE!"
"Huh? Hey, hey! Oh shit... you're a fucking virgin!"
"AAAIIIEEE!"
Mangy started fucking fast and furious now. Christ, he was fucking a virgin! Probably the hottest virgin that he had ever fucked. His baby sister was never like this one.
"OH GOD! BABY! YOU'RE JUST GONNA LOVE FUCKING! YOU'RE JUST GONNA LOVE FUCKING PRICKS LIKE MINE!"
"AAAAIIIEEEE! NO! NO! NO!"
Mangy made three quick cock-stabs into the hot tightness of her ravaged pussy. "YES! YES! YES! OH CHRIST! WHATA JUICY FUCK!"
God, now the insides of her pussy felt like they were ready to come outside, ready to make an exit from her mouth -- because that's where Suzy thought his cock was as he fucked harder and deeper with every lunge into her cunt.
"STOP! OH! IT HURTS! YOU'RE HURTING ME! IT'S TOOOO BIG!"
But Mangy couldn't stop now. No way. Not when he had paid fifty bucks to Alice Handler for this piece of ass.
Not when the pent-up juices were no longer capable of being pent-up.
"OOOOOH, BABY! MY COCK'S GETIING BIGGER! I'M GETTING READY TO CUM! OOOOHHHH, SSSSHHHHEEEIITTT!"
Suzy screamed: "PLEASE DON'T! AAAAIIIEEEE!"
Dirt and dust settled on their sweaty bodies as Mangy got ten toeholds into the sod and plowed hard into her pussy.
The first spurts of jizz were shooting out.
"AAAARRRGGGHHH! OH BABY!"
"AAAIIIEEEE! IT'S TOOO BIG! TAKE IT OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!"
So Mangy took it out -- out to the tip of his huge, spurting cockhead, then he rammed it home and shot a second load of hot cumjuice into her tight pussy.
"AAARRRGCGGHHH! OH SHIT! YOU'RE THE BEST FUCK I'VE EVER HAD!"
Suzy closed her eyes, squeezed out the tears as the pain came from her cunt in pulsating waves.
Each time his cock spewed out spurts of jizz, the pain was intensified.
"NO! NO! OH, PLEASE! NO MORE! NO MORE! I CAN'T STAND IT! NO MORE!"
Then there was no more.
No more cock inside of her pussy.
No more screams or grunts or spurts of jizz.
And that baseball bat in her pussy was shrinking very slowly, and juicy stuff was running out of her cunt.
"Christ, would you look at my cock. Shit, they sure don't make Trojans like they used to."
Suzy didn't want to look at any Trojans, or hear about missionaries, or think about robbing banks because she knew now what fuck meant, and what a cunt was, and that cock was just another word for baseball bat.
Yeah, she knew now that fuck was a verb that could be used transitive or intransitive: to fuck or to be fucked.
A warm hand patted her bloody pussy. A voice that seemed to come from very far away said: "Shit, you were worth it, babe. It's not every night that a guy gets to fuck a virgin."
Suzy stared up at the night sky, stared up at the moon disappearing over the roof of Dame Folker Hall.
Then she was staring at a figure perched on the ledge of a third-floor window with a camera in hand.
Flash!
Chapter Four
Harrison Bussey was a fucking animal.
Sometimes he was as ferocious as a lion, or stubborn as a moose, or as elegant as an elk, or as bashful as a beaver.
The only times that he wasn't an animal was when he was fucking his wife Marina or on Friday nights when he had his Kiwanis club meetings. Otherwise, all the other nights of the week Harrison had to attend all those animal social clubs like the Lions, the Mooses, the Elks and the Beavers.
As for his wife Marina, well, she was a true animal of a different nature -- a savage, carnivorous woman who preyed on men, gobbled up their cocks like a cannibal going crazy at Custer's Last Stand.
The reason Marina Bussey became such a cock-hungry, hot-fucking, frustrated housewife was because her husband was never home to attend to her needs -- you know, those crazy itches women pt all the time when they want to fuck, or eaten, or fingered.
It's the kind of cunt scratch that a lot of women get when they've given birth to a couple of kids and who are now at the prime age for some real fucking -- twenty-eight years of age.
Once upon a time her husband hadn't always ignored Marina. There was a time when he was even in love with her.
But that was almost fourteen years ago when they were petting steadies in junior high school.
But even way back then, Marina should have foreseen the handwriting on the wall. Harrison was just one of those popular people who had to be popular because people kept making him more popular.
Hell, when she was eighth-grade Queen of Hearts, an award given on Valentine's Day for the girl who had the least amount of pimples and the most amount of tits, and Harrison was elected the King of Hearts, they even got to snowball the first dance togs then they even danced cheek to cheek, and it was the first time that Marina had felt how big a guy's cock could get.
But, of course, she was too young to know that guys could get erections by just dancing with a girl, so he thought that prominent bulge at Harrison's crotch was his comb, or maybe he had a big set of keys, or a lot of bus change (even though they didn't have busses in Tweedy).
But being the King and Queen of Hearts, Marina Hemlock and Harrison Bussey were very well suited for each other, made to be melded together in some future contract.
Then high school came, and Harrison was everything to everybody -- football captain, freshman dance king, chess champion, ROTC drill captain, honor student, student body president.
Shit, there wasn't a club or organization or event or assembly that Harrison wasn't a member of, or chairman of, or leader, of.
And Marina Hemlock -- shit, she had just as much photo space in the Tweedy High School annual as Harrison.
Head pom-pom girl, drama-club president, first in the Pillsbury High School bake off, D.A.R. Debutante.
People always thought that they had to get married.
Oh, Marina wasn't pregnant or anything like that -- it's just that Tweedyvillians knew they were fated to be married.
So they got married, right after graduation.
And they settled down -- the most popular boy marrying the most popular girl and being the most popular young couple in Tweedy.
The only problem was Marina had come to the realization that she didn't love Harrison because Harrison could only love being an animal four nights a week and a husband only on weekends.
Marina recalled her wedding night -- since it usually is a very important night for mast brides of eighteen who are dumb enough to still be virgins.
She recalled the night because she thought that was the happiest time of her life.
They were in room fourteen of the Travel Lodge just outside Tweedy, and to really make the night a big event, Harrison had managed to steal some of his daddy's beer so they could really celebrate in style.
Harrison was already naked.
His cock was already hard.
And he was also already drunk and stupefied because he was a nervous groom and because this was going to be the first time he had ever fucked a girl.
Oh, he had come close before.
Like when he had almost scored with Tina Morales, the high-school humper as most of the guys called her at Tweedy High.
But shit, Tina wasn't any challenge. She was a Mexican girl -- so fucking her was nothing to brag about.
Shit, everybody in Tweedy knew that Mexican girls were born to fuck, that's why they had so many kids, and being that those kids were all born to fuck, the kids would only bring more kids into the world who were born to fuck.
Shit, who was kidding whom?
Harrison was getting nervous. This was going to be the first time that he was going to get something that had real live hair, and was hot and wet, and hopefully eager, and, even more hopefully, virgin.
Who was he kidding?
Shit, Harrison knew that his bride was a virgin.
Hell, to be elected the most popular couple in 1963 you had to be virgin to be popular.
So he knew Marina, his bride of three hours, was just as virgin as he was because he was just as popular as she.
Marina was in the bathroom, acting the part of the shy virgin bride. Tears were running down her face as she looked in the mirror -- they were tern of love and doubt and confusion, because for the first time in her life she didn't know how to act.
But now, how the hell was she supposed to act?
Should she go to him all hot to fuck?
Na, that would probably give him the wrong impression.
Should she smile when she crawled in bed with him?
No, he probably wouldn't even notice because the room would be in pitch-black darkness -- God! The room better be in darkness, he might see her naked!
Marina decided to be unnatural, possible. She realized she was ready to join the ranks of women who had had their cunts torn apart for the first time. She was ready to be counted as a fucked woman, no longer cherry, no longer virgin.
Shit, Marina wanted to cry again.
Knock. Knock.
"Er, Marina," Harrison hailed from the other side of the door. "Is there something wrong? Can I, uh, help you with anything?"
Marina spun around, made sure the bathroom door was locked.
Click.
"Er, no, Harrison. I'll be out in just a couple of minutes."
"Oh, okay. I'll be waiting out here in case you need something."
Marina heard Harrison's footsteps retreating away from the door, then she heard the bedsprings squeak as he got under the coven.
"Harrison... Harrison, can you hear me?"
"Yes, honey," came the hurried reply from the other side of the door, then the sound of scurrying feet approaching the bathroom. "Is there something wrong? What is it?"
"Oh," Marina said nervously. "Are the lights on out there?"
"Yes... yes, they are, Marina. Why?"
Marina unsnapped her bra. "Well, could you please shut them off."
"Huh! Oh... oh yeah. Yeah, I guess you're kind of nervous... being this is the first time that we'll... we'll, uh, make real love and all. Is that it? You're just a little nervous?"
Marina replied nervously: "Y-Yes, Harrison." Then she heard footsteps scurrying away from the door.
Click.
"All right, Marina. I've shut off the lights. You can come out now."
The moment was here, the moment that the bride was to go to her husband dressed in her honeymoon-blue negligee and consummate their love.
But the act of consummation was consuming Marina with fear.
She looked at herself in the mirror. There was obvious fear on her face.
What if he didn't like her body? What if he didn't like her size thirty-eight-inch titties? What if he didn't like hairy cunts? What if he thought her thighs were too trim, too firm, too warm?
Marina hefted her titties, looked at her monstrous breasts reflected in the mirror.
God, would he think that these nipples were too big?
No man had ever seen her nipples before, in fact, no man had ever seen her breasts before.
Would he like them? Would he be tender and loving when he petted and caressed them? Would his teeth be gentle when he made little nibbles and love-sucks all over her taut tit-ends?
And her pussy.
Marina bent way over, had to hold her big titties apart as they dangled so that she could see if her pussy looked all right.
It certainly looked very hairy to her. But there weren't any uncommon or unnatural odors coming from her cunt.
But she was very fearful that her husband wouldn't like all that hair. Or worse, what if she was just too tight for him, what if he had a difficult time penetrating past the clam-like tightness of her cunt? Then their marriage would only be half-consummated, and Harrison might go in search of a woman who had a looser cunt.
Oh God, sex was so awfully fearful!
Marina stood up, heard rustling noises coming from the bed on the other side of the locked bathroom door.
It was time to go, time to be initiated into the world of fucking. Yes, she'd be a willing bride and not deny her husband his worldly pleasure. Yes, she'd go to him.
Maria turned, bit her lip and unlocked the door.
She opened it very slowly. God, the room was so dark, but she could make out his shape, her husband's body, on the bed.
From Harrison's viewpoint, the beautiful, voluptuous body that came to him from the bathroom was the mast delectable-looking thing he had ever seen. God, all those curvy dark lines silhouetted in the light pouring from the bathroom -- he had never seen anything so sexy.
Which is natural considering it was the first female he had seen that was almost, but not quite, halfway naked.
And now the curvy lines were coming at him -- ghostlike, a delightful apparition.
What made his cock grow another inch -- which gave him a fill eight inches of overeager cock-meat -- was the smell of perfume wafting his way.
And the perfume smell overpowered his senses, made him dizzy with lust, his wife for life was standing next to the bed.
Marina's firm-fleshed titties drew Harrison's attention first -- which was only natural considering they were so Goddamn obvious and enormous.
Her nightgown was lifted up in the same gentle manner that he had lifted her bridal veil three hours earlier.
Only this time his lips weren't going to settle for a French job in front of a church full of people. This time his lips were going to settle on those big, fat huge titties that looked like overripe grapefruits on her chest.
It was very dark, but not so dark that Harrison couldn't see what he was feeling.
Jesus! He lifted Marina's titties as she leaned into him; as she stood by the bed and leaned into him; as she stood by the bed and leaned into him and moaned: "Ooooh, please be very gentle, darling."
Oooooh, he was gentle all right. Her gripped her titties like a wino holding his Ripple. But there was just to much tittie to hold all at once!
Her titties were just overflowing his cupped hands. He just couldn't contain all that meaty flesh in his hot and sweaty hands. And, like a wino sucking from his jug of Ripple, he put his lips to the nearest tit and began guzzling all that delicious tit-flesh.
"Ooooh, Harrison! My God! That feels so good. Uuuum!"
Harrison's tongue felt more like a mop as it swiped across her titties. And his hands were more like shovels that were scooping up more tit-flesh for him to eat.
God, did he eat her tits! He loved it -- his face was buried in her tits, sweet delicious tit-meat that smothered him from ear to ear.
Marina had never felt anything so peculiarly delicious. Her tits felt painful pressure from the way Harrison's hands vised around her tits -- yet, that wonderful mouth, that wonderful mouth that she was now married to, was doing such strange and wonderful thing to her titties.
Her nipples seemed to buzz as his tongue tickled and swirled all around her tits. And the way her tits felt so warm, then hot, then very hot, as his mouth tried to cool them off with spit and slaver.
"OOOOH GOD! HARRISON! MY BREASTS FEEL SO WONDERFUL!"
Harrison wanted to say the same. Her tits felt so wonderful in his hands, in his mouth -- but he couldn't tell her because his mouth was so full of tit-flesh that only moans and groans escaped from his tit-filled mouth.
"MMMMMMMM!"
Marina couldn't help it, couldn't help falling against Harrison's naked and sweaty body. It felt as if her tits were being yanked off her chest by a wet vacuum cleaner.
She sprawled across her husband, her tits gouging into his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his mouth.
Hungrily, Harrison ate more titty. And now, her tits weren't the only things to feel wonderful. His cock was feeling very wonderful -- it felt as full as the tit he was eating. His cock was just as erect as the nipple that he was gagging on. His prick felt just as warm as the tit he was chewing.
It was remarkable -- her tits were like cocks, and his cock was like a tit.
The only thing that felt different was that his cock was dribbling lots of juicy pre-cum while her tits didn't have the ability to do that yet.
Now that the pre-cum was making pasty-like stains all over Marina's beautiful nightgown, and Harrison was reminded that there were other ecstasies to be enjoyed, other pleasure pastures to be plowed.
"Oooooh, please don't stop, Harrison! My breasts feel soooo gooood!"
Harrison had to stop because Marina, in her writhing and wriggling, was moving her thigh hot and oh so hard over his cock. And there was a lot of friction and warm-feeling flesh that his cock felt as he jabbed here and there and everywhere.
Marina felt those cock-jabs -- like that one that hit her at mid-thigh, and that one that smashed the mole near her hairy cunt-mound, and that one that scored a direct hit on her cunt!
"AAAAAIIIEEEE!"
Her scream rattled Harrison's brain. It had to, because Marina was so close to his head when she had belched forth.
But Harrison didn't give a shit, didn't give a damn that his left ear had suddenly gone deaf, didn't give a rat's ass fuck for any kind of moans or groans from his dear wife because his prick had become the plow that was putting a furrow into a very pleasurable pasture.
"AAAAIIIIEEE! PLEASE! WAIT! BE GENTLE, HARRISON! OH GOD! IT FEELS SO BIG! I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE. THAT BIG! PLEASE STOP!"
Harrison couldn't stop.
He hunched his hips upwards, his cock stabbing very deep into the heart of her pussy. And he was sweating like crazy because he had never felt anything so hot and wet and meaty gripping his cock.
"HARRISON! YOU'RE TOO BIG! I'M TOO TIGHT! PLEASE STOP!"
How do you stop a runaway locomotive? How do you stop King Kong from wanting to fuck the shit out of Alice Wray? How do you stop a boy/man from enjoying his first fuck when his first fuck was a tight-cunted virgin with a pussy as pleasurable as Marina's cunt?
No, Harrison couldn't stop -- he was Superman, King Kong in heat, and a boy/man with an urge to rip that pussy in half.
Marina tried to crawl upwards, tried to get away from that cock that felt as if it were ripping her up the middle. But that movement caused one of her titties to be thrust into Harrison's hungry mouth.
And Harrison couldn't believe the fact that he had a virgin tit in his mouth while be was fucking the shit out of a now-de-virginized pussy.
No, Marina couldn't get away now. Not unless she wanted to leave an inch-long nipple in her husband's chewing mouth.
Not unless the wanted to have permanent palm prints on her asscheeks where her husband was gripping and kneading her buttocks.
No, she had nowhere to go except in the direction that her husband was directing her to go.
Which was up and down. Up nine inches, then down nine inches. Over and over again.
Now it was Harrison's turn to scream.
"OOOOO! GOD! MARINA. I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! AAAAHHHHH!"
Marina cringed as every word of love was punctuated by a thrust of his hips that sent his nine-inch love muscle deep into her ever-loving pussy.
Marina wanted to say thank you, wanted to express to Harrison that she loved him too, but she couldn't because the pain in her pussy was just too tremendous, too agonizing.
So she said: "AAAIIIEEEEE!"
Suddenly, Marina held very still -- God! Something was happening.
Marina had to hold still because Harrison had such a tight grip on her hips. And he was holding her at a height of nine inches over his sweating crotch. And he was making deep upthrusting stabs into her stationary pussy.
And Marina couldn't believe what she felt between her legs. It was like sitting on a totem pole. Like inserting a Tampax made for a mare. Like eating an enormous Zucchini with the wrong end of her body.
In other words, Harrison's cock was getting bigger and bigger as it bulged heavier and header with blood and the product of his balls. His jizz was getting ready to make its entrance. To make its plunging debut deep into the pit of Marina's cunt.
Marina couldn't move, couldn't get away from the handholds that Harrison had maintained on her hips. But then, she really didn't want to move now. Didn't want to get away from that prick that felt more like a totem pole in her cunt instead of something human.
Because something was happening to her pussy, just as something was happening to his cock!
Her cunt was rippling with tingly sensations.
"Oooooh, Harrison! That feels so gooood! Hold me tighter, honey! Ooooh, that's it -- stab harder! Oooooh, please!"
And the tingly sensations were becoming more like ripples of ecstatic delight. And her cunt felt very juicy and very wet.
Her cunt had never felt that juicy and that wet before, unless she was having a very heavy period and she would use up a whole box of Tampaxes. But this didn't feel like any menstrual flow because something bigger than a Tampax was stopping up the flow.
Harrison couldn't believe the delicious sensations that were coursing around and around on his cock. The ripply walls of her cunt seemed to flutter around his prick. It felt even tighter than the times he would try on one or the used rubbers he found in his father's bedside wastebasket.
God, her cunt was so tight and delicious!
"AAAIIIEEEE!" Marina screamed. But this scream was not one induced by pain. This scream was induced by a Zucchini-like cock that was ready to spew the seeds of life in her cunt.
And, boy, did she want those seeds of life spewed! Suddenly Marina knew what it was to be a woman, to be a fucked woman who wanted plenty of Zucchini-like cocks loaded with plenty of spewing seed. Consummation was just utter delight, ultimately beautiful, supremely delicious!
And now Harrison had a hard time holding her in place. Marina was moving of her own accord. Where he was trying to punch a bigger hole into her cunt, she was shoving back against him, making her hole bigger.
Now their hips were slamming together, creating very obscene and lewd noises.
Slush. Squish. Slush. Squish.
And their mouths were making very obscene sounds now.
"OOOOOH GOD, MARINA! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK, YOU BEAUTIFUL BRIDE! OH GOD! I'M ALMOST THERE!"
"AAAAIIIIEEEE! HARRISON! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO ME! I LOVE THAT FEELING! WHATTA FEELING! IT'S BIGGER THAN A CUCUMBER -- BIGGER THAN ANYTHING I IMAGINED! OH, LOVELY!"
Then Harrison started coming to the end. And Marina began coming to the end. Then the ends of their bodies started coming together as they both started coming together.
And their up and coming juices were making more obscene noises.
After seventeen spurts of semen, and thirteen riotous climaxing cunt convulsions, their organs were overcome with passion, becoming depleted for him and lax for her.
Chapter Five
Marina smiled dreamily as she remembered that first fuck that first night she was married, when they loved to fuck and fucked to love. It was at a time when loving and fucking were synonymous.
But then, after ten years of marriage, with Harrison becoming more like an animal after hours -- God, sometimes it was ridiculous to see him leave home with his Lion's cape on Monday, and his Moose earmuffs on Tuesdays, and his Elk shirt on Wednesday, and his Beaver hats on Thursday -- Marina needed lots of love and affection, more than her beastly husband could give her.
Thus, a period of life came about for Marina where loving and fucking weren't synonymous.
Now, she was learning to love fucking with somebody anonymous.
And that was why she went out to find a man who could make her feel as great as that first wedding night.
And that was why she was in a very precarious position on Thursday night when her husband was at the Beaver Lodge and she was supposed to be at home working on their high-school reunion that was planned for two months hence.
It was a very precarious position.
For one thing, it was a very straining position.
At least it would be a strain on most American housewives who were bent over with a cock in her ass and a cock in her mouth.
But it was a position that Marina enjoyed very much -- because she had never realized that there were so many nerve ending in her asshole and it was her first opportunity to suck an uncircumcised cock.
And, if Harrison Bussey had seen his wife in that position, he might have been very envious -- maybe even jealous, or just a bit outraged.
Because the guy with the cock in his wife's sensitive asshole was a fellow Elk who never became a Beaver because he wanted Thursday nights free to fuck his Elk brother's wife. The nasty Elk's name, who had his cock buried ten inches deep into a Beaver's wife, was named Harvey Jennings.
Facing Arney and fronting the Beaver's wife was a man who was groaning like a bull moose who had been chosen as a substitute for one of Santa's reindeer -- in other words, he was in ecstasy.
He was groaning, groaning because nobody had ever chowed down on his cock like Marina Bussey could. He was a good lover of Marina's and a good buddy of Harrison's -- hell, he was a fellow lion who all the other kings of the Monday-night jungle addressed as Arney, which was short for Arnold, but the long of it was Arnold Hubert Meyers.
Of course, sandwiched between the Lion's cock in her mouth and the Elk's horn in her ass was a Beaver's wife who felt as if someone was damming up her body so she couldn't shit or eat -- and everybody knows you can't have one without the other.
Chapter Six
Beth Meyers was a very attractive woman. She had to be because she was married to Arnold Meyers, the mayor of Tweedy.
Of course, what made Beth Meyers very attractive was the way she kept her ugliness in check... or hidden... or disguised.
All trough her high-school days, when she was running round with pom-pom girls like Marina Hemlock, who was now married to the most popular boy in their senior class, Harrison Bussey, Beth kept herself in great shape.
Every guy would get a hard-on just looking at Beth when she was in high school. She was the second most popular girl in Tweedy High, class of '63. But, whereas everybody liked Marina Hemlock, the most popular girl in school, for her personality, they liked Beth because she was very attractive to with.
Of course, the reason Beth was so attractive in high school was because she worked hard at it. She worked so hard at being beautiful and attractive and sexy that not many people know how hard she worked; in fact, most people thought she was in such attractive shape because she had been God-blessed with an attractive figure.
But that was just a bunch of bullshit.
Bethel Sue Bottomly -- as she was known back then in '63 -- had a bullshitter's body.
The only reason she got straight A's in home economics was because she was so good at sewing, and the reason she was so good at sewing was because she could tear the guts out of foam-rubber pillows and put the foam rubber into the cups of her training bras to make her tits look more like pillows than peas.
And, when it came to places like the posterior, why Bethel Sue Bottomly was pretty nimble with a thimble there, too. She'd take some of the left-over foam rubber and sew them into the ass of her toreador pants, or her favorite suede caprice, and make her ass-cheeks look very cushiony.
And Bethel Sue Bottomly was very good at art, too, always getting straight A's in Mr. Merz's art class for doing the best color wheels. Yeah, she knew a lot about colon and which colors are complimentary and which colors are for night-time rides with her date Arnold Meyers.
She would sit for hours painting eyebrows where there were none. Creating blue shadows over her small beady eyes so that her dates and beaus would know when she was making eyes at them.
Lipsticks came in various colors and shades and tints, and Bethel knew all their names and what they could or couldn't do for her lips.
She liked whisper-red lipstick the best because it made her lips look very succulent -- like she had been sucking pomegranates all day and her lips were stained red. But then again, anything that made her lips look like they were built for sucking than speaking was all right with Beth.
Because she knew that sucking lips were something that turned guys on. Which she liked to do very much.
But once all the makeup and lipstick and eyeshadow and foam-padded bars and false-assed capris were removed, Bethel Sue Bottomly was a very different person.
From top to bottom, or in other words, from head to toe, Beth became more the beast than the beauty when all the clothes and cosmetics were doffed and removed.
Her hair, in its natural state, could be red, or brown, or dirty blonde, all depending on the time of day and whether the sun was out in full, force.
Her eyes were beady small, as if God had thought that they would be the most insignificant things to put on baby Beth's face when he created her in his own image.
Her nose; well, there are noses and there are noses -- just like a rose is arose is a rose. But Beth's nose, simply put, would be more aptly described as a snout than a nostril, something that a sow would have a better chance to breathe through than a human.
Her lips were two mere lines that people knew were there whenever she spoke. And when she spoke, the tone of her voice had a nasal quality. Which was probably because her nose was more suited for a hog than a human.
There were lots of good things to say about her titties -- at least the boys she dated thought they were great-looking titties with those foam-rubber pads increasing her bust size from a thirty-two to a thirty-eight.
Another good thing about Beth's titties was that they didn't have any hair on them, or moles, nor were they disfigured or maimed.
Also, she had two nipples like any other girl. But what made her nipples unlike any other girl's was that they were inverted, and the only time they came erect was when somebody sucked on them; but then again, Beth wouldn't dare let any guy touch her titties let alone suck on them for fear they'd discover her foam-rubber falsies, so her nipples never did get erect.
Well, her nipples did get erect once. That was when she had tricked Arnold Meyers into thinking that he had married the mast attractive girl in the class of '63.
Naturally her nipples had come erect because most girls' nipples come erect when they're fucking and sucking their husbands, or their dates, or their fathers, or the neighbor's dog.
But the first time her nipples came erect was a week after she had married Arnold. It took a week for her nipples to become erect because Arnold had discovered on his wedding night that he had not married what he thought be was marrying.
What he thought he was marrying was a curvaceous chick with a sensuous face who turned him on to no end.
But, the end, there had been no turn on.
And now that was why Arnold Hubert Meyers was over Marina Bussey's place placing his beastly cock into her eager-beaver mouth.
And now that was why Bethel Sue Meyers was home alone getting her rocks off.
It was very unusual the way Beth got her rocks off.
Very unusual.
And very perverted.
At least some people would think that the way Beth got her rocks off was perverted, but then again most of those people were the types that would kick a three-legged dog while the poor pooch shit on their lawns.
Chapter Seven
Clinton Mallory was alone. He liked to be alone. He liked to be alone because that was the best time to jack off -- when no one else was around and he could pull his six-inch, very normal-sized cock out and beat the living daylights out of it until gobs of sperm made his hand as greasy and slimy as the days he had to chum his grandmother's butter with Grandma Mallory saying: "Beat the shit out of that butter, Clinton, and you'll have strong muscles."
Clint Mallory had strong muscles -- well, he had strong muscles in his right hand because that was the best hand to beat his cock with because his left hand usually held a fuck book...
But there were other reasons why Clint Mallory liked to be alone. For one thing he was a writer. Not a publisher writer, but a... er, well, a working writer who never got paid. He worked a lot.
He once wrote a four-volume work entitled: HOW TO WRITE SHORT STORIES.
That had taken him four years to write.
Now, Clint used HOW TO WRITE SHORT STORIES for a pillow in his little studio apartment because another four years had passed and he had accumulated many cryptic short notes from edition that basically said the same thing about his existence: Reject.
Another reason Clint liked to be alone was because that's the way he had been since Grandma Mallory caught him beating his meat and wiping up his cum drops with the doily that she had just finished for the church bazaar.
That had been when he was young and attending Tweedy High School.
Ah, those were the old days for Clint. When he was alone, but not really alone. Those days when he could walk down the high school hall ways and envision himself dating that girl or this one; when he could conjure up images of what was beneath the pair of toreador pants and/or those petticoated skirts and backward sweaters.
Yeah, whenever Clint got really lonely he would remember those days at Tweedy High School, like he was doing now.
His favorite memory was being replayed before his eyes. It was the time he had sneaked up on the roof and leaned way over the eaves so he could peer into the girls' locker room.
He was amazed at what he saw. So many asses and tits... and, gosh, he didn't know that their things were that funny!
There was his favorite wet-dream girl of his high-school career.
Rosalie Morales, a younger look-alike for her senior sister Tina. He loved Rosy's kind of body. Because it was so spicy to look at.
Rosy was undressing because she had to get into her bloomers so that they could go out and play field hockey. And young Clint Mallory was getting his sinuses drained as he leaned way out over the eaves and watched every wonderful bit of clothing coming off that tight, compact chili-pepper body.
He was upside down.
Rosy wore the sweater that was more like a fisherman's net wrapped around her chest and back and tits. Then Rosy was reaching around the side and unzipping her knee-length skirt.
Oh God, Clint wanted to die as he watched her bend over and remove the skirt.
He could see her panties!
It was the first pair of panties he had ever seen in his life.
Oh, he had seen panties before in those Sean Roebuck catalogues, but the ones in the pictures were always those white-cotton types that wouldn't or couldn't reveal a shadow of a hair. And besides, it was just too much work for his mind to envision what those models had between their legs for him to give his cock a decent hand-job -- so he had switched to his grandmother's confession magazines where the lingerie ads really showed some spicy bits of lace.
But now he was seeing his first pair of live panties -- well, the panties weren't really alive, but those heavenly asscheeks that wriggled and bounced like jello globes were certainly alive.
Rosy's panties were yellow -- that he would remember for the rest of his life because they were such a contrast from her rust-brown tan.
And now she was turning his way!
Hair!
He could see hair where there was supposed to be hair on girls who had grown tits and cunt!
It was just a faint shadow of hair, just a dark discoloration near the crotch of those yellow panties. But he knew it was hair all right -- because Rosy had a jagged tear where the elastic on one leg band had come undone and several strands of curly brown pubic hair were crawling down her thigh.
Oh God, things were looking up! The bra was next. Clint's mind burned with the image of those chocolate-brown titties heaving and looking like they were ready to burst from the yellow bra that Rosy wore.
Oh God, whatta sight!
Rosy reached behind her, had a difficult time with the catch on her bra because the catch had long ago been worn away because it was her sister's bra that had been handed down to Rosy, who in turn, would hand it down to her younger sister Regina, who now had a set of thirty-six-inch titties and was just about ready to wear a bra.
But Clint wasn't interested in older sister Tina who had tits the size of grapefruits, nor was he interested in younger sister Regina's lemon-sized titties.
What he was interested in was a set of titties that were more like oranges, big fat navel oranges that were very brawn and full-blown on a body that looked like it was ready to explode in so many sensuous directions at once.
Rosy finally unsnapped the safety pin that held up her frayed bra. She shrugged out of the straps, and her titties looked like they were struggling to get out of the double-D cups that had encased them, had held them prisoner for eight-long school hours.
Rosy breathed deeply.
God! Did you see that! Her titties! God!
Clint was sweating very hard, and he was thankful that he was hanging upside-down so that the perspiration was running into his hair and not into his shocked eyes. His cock was very hard, too, and it was driving into the tiled roof.
God, he wanted to get his muscular right hand on his cock, give it a few strokes as he watched Rosy dig through her locker half-naked. But he couldn't... he had to maintain a two-handed grip on the rain gutter. It was either that or being planted upside-down in the rose bushes two stories below him.
Rosy looked like she was whistling now, taking her Goddamn time getting her fucking panties off. She was acting very coyly. And Clint was getting all hot and panty as he watched every movement she made.
You Goddamn bitch! Get those panties off! Come on, get 'em off!
Rosalie whistled, ran a brush through her hair.
Get your fucking arm out of the way, Rosy! I can't see your tits!
Rosy was putting on lipstick now, her tits wobbling and jiggling very enticingly.
Clint went apeshit. He tried to re-roof the girls' gym using his cock for a hammer. Oh God, his prick was just killing him. And his balls -- shit, they felt as swollen as Rosy's orange-sized tits.
Suddenly, Rosalie's ass was presented to Clint. Had her asshole been an eye he would have sworn it was brown. Had her cunt been a mouth he would have sworn it smiled vertically.
God! Look at that ass! Look at that cunt! Look at the hairs all 'round that pussy!
Then Rosy stood up, and the eye of her asshole and the mouth of her cunt were no longer expressing themselves to Clint. All he could see now was the crack of her ass.
Then she turned around.
And her tits looked like a freak Cyclopes -- one born with two eyes. And her hairy pubis was like an upside-down triangle (well, from Clint's viewpoint, the triangle looked right side up). And her cuntlips must have been very heavy and full because they hung down from beneath the beard of her hairy triangle.
God! Clint wanted to die!
His cock was full of cum and blood. He had to relieve himself. This was worse than having a year to wait before pissing. He reached for his cock -- using his strong right hand.
"AAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"
Suddenly Clint realized, all in the five seconds it took before he planted his head into the rose bed, that his left hand was weaker than his right, that Rosy looked very shacked as she watched the flight of a man's body falling outside the gym window, and that he should have zipped up his fly because his cock got snagged on the rose bushes as his head met the fertile soil.
Chapter Eight
"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!" Clint screamed as he fell out of bed, his powerful right hand gripping his cock and his left hand trying to brace his lean body before it crashed to the floor.
Then silence as Clint tensed for what he knew would inevitably come from the apartment next to his.
"You son of abitchin' asshole! What the fuck you doin' in there? Are you havin' an orgy or somethin'?"
No, the person in 4A was not having an orgy -- unless a man and his cock constituted an orgy.
Clint sat up, prayed that the Italian next to him wouldn't come over and knock on the door of 4A, and when the knock wasn't answered he hoped that the Italian in 4A wouldn't curse and fart and say things like: "You motherfucker! Don't you ever answer! Whatsa matter, don't you speaka English! Chicken-shit motherfucker! Even your mama's a motherfucker! You bastard son of a motherfucker!"
Clint was very happy when there wasn't any knock on his door or that he had heard curses being screamed at him about his chicken-shit ancestry. He was very relieved because now he could go back and think about fucking and sucking.
Which was all that Clint ever thought about -- well, he never actually thought about fucking and sucking with a chick.
Shit, if he started fucking and sucking with a chick, then he knew he wouldn't be able to think about fucking and sucking because then he would be fucking and sucking all the time.
He thought about the first time he ever saw somebody fucking. They were friends of his, or Clint considered them friends although the two fuckers involved in this particular situation never said more than two words to him all through high school.
Once Tina Morales had said the two words, "Fuck you!" because he had passed by her in the narrow crowded hallway and his history book had accidentally smashed into her right tit.
Clint had wanted to say: "I wish, I wish I could fuck you," but he couldn't. He couldn't say it because the person standing behind him had heard Tina's remark and had said: "I wish, Tina. I wish I could fuck you."
Clint had spun around to see who would dare say something like that to a nifty girl like Tina Morales, the high school humper. It was Harvey Jennings, the crewcut, four-star letterman who had more going for him in his jock than his head.
Then Clint had stood there and watched Tina say to Harvey: "I don't just fuck with anybody."
And then he had been stunned when Harvey Jennings had pulled out his ten-inch cock, gave it a few waggles, and said to Tina: "Well, this lust ain't anybody's cock."
Clint thought that to be a very flue statement. He had never seen a prick that size before. The only cock he had ever seen before was the one that was between his legs.
Then, Clint was amazed when Tina said: "Meet me behind wood shop after school. And make sure that fucking thing you call a cock is hard and ready."
And Clint couldn't believe his ears when Harvey said: "Yeah, taco-babe, when you see my cock hard and ready, you better have your cunt spread out like peanut butter."
End of conversation.
And the beginning of a new experience for one Clint Mallory. Clint couldn't wait for school to end and his education in fucking begin.
Damn, he couldn't wait!
When the bell sounded for the last class, Clint made fast for the wood shop. Got himself a good seat to view the action -- he was inside the shop teacher's office and looking out the window watching the action that was taking place five feet away.
How could they be fucking already? Jesus! How the fuck did they get out of class so soon!
Christ, he had missed the initial penetration, never got to see how cocks started the first thrust into prime pussy. Never got to see how Tina had fisted Harvey's cock, gave it one hundred strokes before allowing him to enter her cunt.
He had missed the action of Harvey chomping on Tina's tits, ruffling another bra that would eventually be sewn up and handed down to sister Rosalie, who would have to patch up the bra before it got busted by some other guy's mouth or hands or feet, before she gave it to her younger sister Regina.
Yeah, Clint had missed the most exciting part. Now, all he got to see was the huge thrust and withdrawal of a twelve-inch prick as it fucked faster and faster into a cunt that belonged to the best bumper in school.
Now, all he could see was the ecstatic expression on Tina's face as she writhed all over on the dirty ground, thrusting her cunt toward that cock everytime that prick was making a thrust into her pussy.
Now, all he could see was Tina's tits flopping all over as sweat and spit ran down from the nipples.
Now, all he could bear was Tina's tits flopping all over as sweat and spit ran down from the nipples.
Now, all he could hear was Tina's voice saying: "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! GIVE ME... OOOOOHHHHH! YEAH! GIVE ME YOUR PRICK!"
"YOU FUCKING BITCH! TAKE THAT! TAKE THAT! AAARRRGGGGHHH!"
Now, Clint didn't give a shit that he had missed the exciting debut of a cock meeting head-on with a pussy.
Shit, this was better than watching an actress audition for a porno movie.
Fuck, this was better than seeing an actress getting fucked in a porno movie that she had auditioned for.
Motherfucker! This was better than 3-D porno movies!
This was alive! With real people in the real flesh making real noises of a real fucking! "FFFFFUUUUCCCKKK MY CLIT OFFEFF, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
"TAKE THIS, YOU BITCH! AAAARRRGGGHHHH! AND THIS!"
And Clint took it all in, watched in awe, watched with eyes as wide as poker chips, with his mouth agape as if his teeth were ready to bite down on a huge navel orange.
He was astounded that all that prick-meat could disappear into that tiny wet slobbering hole. Where did that cock go? Where did it end? How can she just lay there and take all that prick?
"MMMMOOOORRRRRREEEE, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! GIVE ME MMMOOOORREEEE!"
And she wanted more cock.
How could she be so hungry? Was it possible that God had made her womb into a stomach and her cunt into a mouth and Harvey's prick into a huge sausage that the mouth could just suck on before swallowing so many times?
Clint's face looked grotesque as it was smashed against the windowpane. And his cock felt grotesque as he slammed his six-inch prick against his fist, driving the head of his cock into the fake wall.
Clint was amazed that women had so much depth to them, that they could look so wholesome and wanton all in the same breath.
Tina looked so angelic to him, but her body looked as if the Devil had possessed her flesh, made her wrap her ankles behind Harvey's back, made her grab her tits and shove them at Harvey's face, made her thighs flop open and shut like a bellows.
And Harvey. How could he stand fucking her so long? Or, for that matter, how fucking long could he stand it?
Christ, if it were Clint fucking Tina, and she was making him eat her titties while her cunt ate his cock, he would have creamed long ago, the spurts just flying into that mouth of a pussy that looked like it would never stop eating cock.
"MORE COCK! MORE COCK! MORE COCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
What rhythm!
What cadence!
She was the eighth wonder of the world!
She could actually talk in rhythm to the pounding thrusts that Harvey's cock was making deep inside her cunt.
Sweat broke out on Clint's face. His hard felt very clammy. His vision was blurring because his pupils were becoming cross-eyed with passion.
He couldn't stand it. Or, for that matter, he couldn't stand.
He slumped to the floor, desperately wanting to watch Harvey shoot his wads of sperm into Tina's clutching cunt, but the passionate fervor that racked his balls had gripped him and sucked him down to the floor.
And now all Clint could see was the wads of sperm that seemed to be flying from the head of his cock.
And his hand was a Goddamn white mess, as if he had smashed his fist into a can of Crisco.
And from outside he could hear: "I'M COOOOMMIINNGGG! YOU BITCH!"
"MORE COCK! MORE COCK! MORE COCK!"
And Clinton Mallory felt like a Goddamn asshole because he had missed the beginning of a fuck and the end of a fuck.
Chapter Nine
Clint sat up in bed, the sweat on his body the last reminders of his recent memory of Harvey Jennings fucking the shit out of Tina Morales.
He didn't want to jack off any more.
He didn't want to be alone.
He didn't want his cock to be alone either.
At the age of twenty-eight, Clint Mallory felt that he shouldn't be a virgin, that he should have been able to dip his prick into something other than a calloused right hand.
Shit, maybe something was wrong with him.
Maybe B.O. or bad breath.
Maybe chicks didn't like his clothes.
He got up and dragged himself to the mirror -- the one hanging from the closet door.
The face didn't look bad. No scam, wounds, bleeding zits, runny nose. If anything, his face looked drab -- like the ones rape victims always describe to the cops: "He was medium height. Avenge build. Masculine face. No... no distinguishing characteristics. Do you think you'll catch him?"
Clint eyed his flesh.
Yeah, avenge build, medium height. God, why couldn't he have some distinguishing characteristic -- like an appendix scar, or a double navel, or warts for nipples. Why couldn't he have something unique?
He lifted his cock. Average size. Nothing particularly outstanding. Four inches limp, six inches hard. Circumcised like most clean guys today.
God, why couldn't he have a prick like Harvey Jennings?
Why couldn't his prick be longer, or stronger, or wider?
Why couldn't it have gnarls and moles, or even little bumpy things like he had seen on those well-hung guys on the marquee down at the Boom-Boom theater around the corner -- the one that had a picture of a girl kissing a huge that was connected very subtly to some guy's hairy loins.
Shit, why couldn't his cock have a big X stamped on it?
He hefted his balls. A mere handful. Nothing to be proud of. Oh, there was hair on them, and they hung down instead of up, and they were in a wrinkly sac, and one ball was lower than the other one so that when he sat cross-legged it wouldn't feel like he had placed them in a vise.
But God, why couldn't he have big distinguishable balls, some jewels that would make his swimming trunks protrudes with something more than a four-inch cock when limp?
Clint wanted to cry when he looked at himself. The only thing that made him unique was that his right hand wore a size-ten glove and his left hand a size eight.
And, just like the times when he saw Harvey Jennings fucking the shit out of Tina Morales, he felt like he was in the middle. As if his whole life had no beginning and no end.
Shit. He was determined that there was going to be a beginning for him. He would start soon, maybe tomorrow, or the next day.
No, he would start right now. He would have a beginning or else he would have an end.
Chapter Ten
"One cheer, two cheer, what do we hear?"
"Bull Moose! Bull Moose! Mooseketeer!"
It was Tuesday night and Harrison Bussey took his place at the head of the dais amid the cheers of his fellow Moosers. Harrison was very happy. He doffed his moose antlers at his fellow Moosers, then began the evening's entertainment.
"Fellow Moosers! Tonight I have a special surprise for all of you. Tonight's entertainment will not be like last Tuesday night's."
"Let's hope not, Mr. Bull Moose!" came a voice from Harrison's left.
It had to be Delbert Digbee -- because he had done an excellent job in giving his fellow Moosers some very spirited and entertaining Tuesday evening. And he dared anyone to outdo what he had done to entertain his fellow Moosers.
Shit, this year Delbert Digbee had the Goose A Moose benefit, where he brought in fourteen black whores from Cleveland (one for every Mooser) and they goosed the shit out of their black asses with ivory antlers.
And, since every Mooser there had to pay ten dollars for the pleasure of goosing a black stole, Delbert Digbee had raised one hundred and forty dollars for their annual Help A Black Kid fund.
And with that one hundred and forty dollars, they bought some nice Bibles to be shipped off to Watts in the hopes that those black kids wouldn't grow up to be like Cleveland nigger whores who allowed Moosers to goose their asses for ten bucks a shot.
Then there was the time that Delbert Digbee had presented his fellow Moosers with another choice bit of perversion. Delbert called it: Whose A Moose?
And far this particular game, he had hired a typical teen slut by the name of Blondie Blue from Saskatoon. Blondie Blue from Saskatoon was very famous because she had that special talent that enabled her to distinguish one man's cum from another man's.
Very extraordinary talent. Very extraordinary girl.
Delbert's rules for Whose A Moose? were simple. All the young Moosers would get their pricks blown by Blondie Blue until she had really gotten a good taste of each man's jizz.
Yes, Delbert Digbee had given his fellow Moosers some real lively entertaining Tuesdays in the year that he reigned as Bull Moose. And he knew that Harrison Bussey, the Bull Moose now, was just no match for him.
That was why he had interrupted Harrison and told him: "Let's hope not, Mr. Bull Moose! 'Cause we lost a good Mooser after that fucked-up thing you planned last Tuesday."
The fucked-up thing that Delbert Digbee was referring to was the stupid dumb-ass game that Harrison had thought up for last Tuesday's entertainment.
Harrison had dubbed last Tuesday's game: Moose, Moose, Who's Got The Moose?
And, in order to play, Harrison had erected a gigantic plywood glory hole that his fellow Moosers would have to stick their erect cocks through.
Each Mooser was blindfolded and he was told that he was going to be given a great blow job.
The object of the game was to figure out which blowjob was given by either Gloria Bloomer (a former Moose Girl of the Month) or Gigi Dubonnet (A Mooser's -- one of the girls in the Moose Auxiliary that helped the Moosers stage perverted events like this one).
The first man was Ed Sneezley.
Shit, old Ed had been a Mooser longer than any other Mooser there, and he was also the club's first Bull Moose.
Shit, he was the Mooser who thought up Moosical Chairs -- a simple game where all the fourteen Moosers pretended to be chairs and fifteen black whores from Cincinnati played musical chairs on their naked erect cocks.
Well, old Ed Sneezley stuck his eight-inch pecker trough the plywood board that had Harrison Bussey's glory hole in it.
But the real surprise that Harrison planned to throw on his fellow Moosers was that they wouldn't be sticking out their cocks to have them sucked by Gloria or Gigi. I was a surprise.
Ed Sneezley was very surprised when he felt the warm molasses being poured over his cock. Then he was very surprised at the length of tongue that seemed to wrap like a Chinese wan ton over his cock. Then he was even more surprised when a set of teeth came chomping down over the base of his cock and made him into a sexless Mooser.
Remembering the way Ed Sneezley had screamed and carried on was very fresh in Harrison Bussey's head. And that old fart Delbert Digbee would have to remind him, too.
So that was the reason that reason prevailed over Harrison and he had decided to give the old Moosers a more sedate evening of entertainment.
Tonight, Harrison had planned to play Stag Mooser.
Chapter Eleven
Which was a very easy game to play.
And no Mooser would end up cockless or hurt or maimed.
To get the game ready, Harrison had had to go down Baltic Avenue in Tweedy town, make a right at St. James Avenue, cross the old tracks until he came to Sam's Clip Joint, which was just a fucked-up name for the best barber shop in nil of Tweedy. There, he asked old hairless Sam to give him fifteen reels of first-rate porno film.
Harrison paid him one hundred dollars and he didn't end up in jail.
Well, the easiest part had been accomplished.
Now came the hard part. To prove to his fellow Moosers that an old-fashioned smoker was still just as exciting as getting a blow job off old Gloria, or drilling fourteen black Cleveland assholes, or letting fifteen Cincinnati whores sit on their pricks all at different times.
"Hear me, fellow Moosers! Tonight will be different!"
"Hooray."
"Let's hear a cheer for a real Mooseketeer!"
"Yeah! What we going to play tonight, Mr. Bull Moose!"
"Well," Harrison said, holding up his antlers for attention. "Tonight we're going to play Stag Mooser!"
"Yippee!"
"Great! Did ya hear that, Sam? We're gonna play Stag Mooser!"
"What the fuck's Stag Mooser?"
"Stag Mooser," Harrison explained above the din of fourteen, er, thirteen cigar-smoking, beer-belching Moosers, "is where fourteen stag movies will be shown."
Silence.
Then a couple of grumbles. One belch. Two burps. A couple of tarts. Much shuffling of feet.
Finally Delbert Digbee stood up. "Mr. Bull Moose. Uh, is that all we're gonna play tonight? What the fuck is this! Some of us Moosers pay fifty bucks a month dues to have some real moose-type action."
Harrison turned red beneath his antlers. Briefly wondered what would happened if he were impeached from office, or worse, if he were forced to leave the Moosers.
God, what would he do then?
Well, the Optimist Club did meet on Tuesday nights. But, hell, the Optimist Club didn't have any moose-type name. Also, they didn't have a name like an animal. Shit.
Harrison sucked up some courage. "Now, Mooser Digbee, after losing a fellow member's member last week, I thought we'd cool things off until I find out if ex-Mooser Sneezley will be suing us Moosers."
That startled many Moosers. A lawsuit against them? No, can't be. Moosers don't get sued, they get shot.
Some more mumbles. A grumble. One fart, two belches and three burps later, the Moosers all decided to cool it and have some innocent fun.
So they passed the popcorn balls around, took off their fake moose hooves, relaxed while Harrison set up the projector.
Harrison sighed with relief as he picked up the first reel of hard-core film. He wound it through the right gears and cogs, then flicked the switch and joined his fellow Moosers in farting and belching as he watched the screen intently.
The title of the movie was innocent enough: SUZY EATS COCKS WITH RELISH.
The picture started innocently enough.
There on the four-by-four silver screen was the blurred image of a blonde, maybe twenty-eight or so, with her back to the camera.
Suddenly from off to the left, a cock made its entrance, coming off the celluloid and into the view of the Moosers.
It was a very big cock or, at least, it was big in relation to the size of the film. Or else the girl was a midget. Or else the cock was made out of paper-mache to be worn as a costume by some horny kid on Halloween night while he said, "Trick or Treat" in a red-light district.
Several Moosers oooohed and aaaaahed.
The blonde also looked like she was saying aaaaahhhh. She had to because the cock came into clear focus it was about two feet long and it had a little ribbon tied around the base with a sign hanging from the ribbon.
The sign said: WHAT? WIENIES AGAIN? WITH RELISH?
And as the blonde said aaaaaahhhh, the huge two-foot cock/weiner was slowly fed into her mouth and her lips formed the word oooohhhhh.
Several Moosers got erections at the sight of a two-foot-long cock going into the blonde's mouth.
Delbert Digbee guffawed.
Harrison Bussey sat up in his chair, his hamhocks hanging over the edge as he peered at the blonde girl that was imitating a sword-swallower and was chomping on a foot of cock.
Now, the blonde turned profile to the Moosers. "Hey... who is that?"
"Jesus... she sure looks familiar."
"Shut the fuck up! That's only SUZY WHO EATS COCKS WITH RELISH. Har, har, har!"
Harrison stood up, then sit down as his shadow was cast very immensely on the screen and several of the Moosers became ferociously feline and made screeching catcalls at him.
God! That girl! That blonde! That Suzy Who Eats Cocks With Relish!
Harrison knew who she was! No! It couldn't be!
But it was.
It was Suzy Cocteau. The shy girl that he had shared so many classes with in high school. No!
But it was Suzy Cocteau!
But she sure wasn't shy any more. Not unless shy girls eat cocks -- but all the Moosers knew only bald girls eat cocks, shy girls only fuck them.
Harrison wiped his brow, squinted his eyes. He couldn't believe that was Suzy Cocteau chewing on three quarters of that, two-foot-long cock with that much zeal and that much relish.
Was that the same Suzy Cocteau who used to wear two bras to school?
Was that the same Suzy who used to make artsy-fartsy things like miniature Eiffel Towers out of paper clips?
Yes, it was.
Harrison viewed that blonde huffing and puffing on a cock that was halfway into her belly.
Yes, it was Suzy Cocteau, all right.
It was the first time he had seen her naked -- shit, it was the first time anybody in Tweedy had seen her naked.
And it was the first time he had seen her chomping on a cock, sucking a prick like she ate them daily. And those artsy-fartsy hands were doing all kinds of things to that beautiful prick.
Yes, it was Suzy Cocteau all right, the same girl with the same artistic hands who was making an Eiffel Tower out of a human prick instead of out of paper clippings.
Amazing.
Harrison sat back in his chair, listened to the other Moosers as recognition of the cocksucking girl came to them.
They were just awed -- Suzy Cocteau used to be so sweet and innocent, so naively beautiful.
Shit, she wasn't the sexy, scrumptious blonde cock-eater they saw on the screen; Suzy Cocteau had brains, was going to get somewhere using her noodle instead of her mouth.
Harrison shook his head. Then his cock grew very hard, very bulgy as he watched that cocksucking mouth moving so sensuously over a two-foot cock. With relish.
Then he realized why he was getting a foot-long erection that couldn't possibly match that enormous thing on the screen.
Their high-school reunion was only two weeks away -- and Suzy Cocteau, this Suzy Cocteau that was getting her tonsils and mouth and lips and face creamed with something as thick as mushroom gravy but which most Moosers called cum, had RSVP'd and said she'd be there.
Harrison's cock lurched at the thought of talking to Suzy Cocteau in person. He was anxious to see her in person.
He licked his lips with relish.
Chapter Twelve
Tina Morales was fucking for free, and she was making more money giving her cunt and mouth away for nothing than she had been when she used to charge five dollars far a blow job and ten dollars for a fuck, and fifteen dollars for a half and half.
The reason she was making more was because she had switched corners. Whereas she used to stand on the corner of Baptist and Lutheran Streets, where all the rich businessman johns would haggle over her aunt, she now stood on the corners of Mediterranean and Baltic -- a cheap low-rent district where the same businessmen cruised by in their Cadillacs hoping to find a cheaper piece of ass than some of those fucked-up whores on Baptist and Lutheran were charging.
So Tina set up shop. Hung her sign from a nearby fire hydrant: I DO FOR YOU FOR FREE.
The sign always attracted attention.
Lots of guys were willing to let Tina do far them for free. But usually after they fucked her for fourteen hours straight, then jabbed her asshole for another fourteen, then rounded off the evening by blasting the last shots of their cum into her mouth -- they usually felt so bad that they'd give Tina a twenty-spot.
Shit, last night an eighty-four-year-old man with a prick that looked more like a varicose leg had given her a fifty-dollar bill.
And the night before, one of the city councilmen had tipped her with two tens and some bus tokens.
And the night before that, a man dressed in a white collar and black, very black, suit with a Bible tucked under his arm had given her twenty-five bucks and a small hand-out card with Psalm Nineteen printed on it.
Tina was the happiest hooker in the whole city. She hooked her sign over the fire hydrant, waited far some business.
A dark-haired man approached her. Well, actually his smell approached her first, and then the lanky body that was dressed in a Mankato State sweatshirt, patched up Levi's and K-Mart tennis shoes, approached her second. And the man was in a real hurry.
Tina could tell he was in a real hurry because he had fire in his eyes. And she liked guys who were in a real hurry because if they fucked in a hurry and she finished them off fast, she could hustle her ass out to the street and get in some overtime.
She stopped him. Not like most nice girls would stop a stranger by lifting up their skirts or, licking their cocksucking lips or breathing hot and heavy.
Tina stopped him by twirling around very suddenly and shoving her titties at the man from Mankato State.
"Hi. You wanta fuck for nothing?"
The man was astonished... by a couple of things. Two things in particular: those huge tight-sweatered tits making wrinkles in his sweat shirt. And one thing in general: who was this girl?
"Hey, some other cunt got your tongue? You wanta fuck me for free?"
The man gulped, the spit never making it to his belly because the pressure of those tits was now at his throat. He had never kit tits as huge as these.
In fact, he had never felt tits with his hands before, let alone his throat.
"I-I'm in a hurry... I'm going down to Baptist and Lutheran Streets. I gotta meet a chick at the corner of Baptist and Lutheran. It's really important, I..."
The thrust of her tits was now joined by a thrust of her crotch at his patched-up Levi's.
Tina's Chiclet breath was at his ear. "Look, fart. I know you ain't got no chick on the corner of Baptist and Lutheran. You were gonna go down there and hope one of them four-bit hookers go down on you. Well, I'm a hooker, too, but I don't charge nothing -- so let's fuck."
The man looked very puzzled, as well as very sweaty, as well as very uncomfortable as those tits nudged his Adam's apple and those mini-skirted thighs began dry-humping his pant-leg.
God! No woman had ever dry-humped his leg before!
And no woman had ever offered herself as brazenly as this free hooker.
Free hooker? Did she say pussy far free, cunt for nothing, sucking without owing, fucking without payment, going down for nothing down?
Tina said: "I give my pussy for free. My cunt for nothing. I suck, and you don't owe me. Fucking with no payment. I'll go down for nothing. Now, are we gonna fuck or not?"
He couldn't believe it!
Who was this hooker?
She couldn't be a hooker. Had to be vice, or undercover, but she certainly didn't look like Angie Dickinson dressed as a cocksucking whore.
His words seemed to stumble out of his mouth. "I know you! You're a fucking cop. I can smell cops a mile away."
The bluff didn't work.
Tina said: "Quit the Goddamn bluffing bullshit. I'm a hooker, I'm clean, and I work for nothing. What do I have to do, show you the Goddamn goods in public!"
The man was ready to nod his head, when suddenly the goods were out in the open. Out for public view, or public consumption.
And the goods looked very good.
Tina had opened up her blouse as casually as opening the newspaper to the comic section. But her tits weren't comical. They were conical, made far a man's mouth to nuzzle and suck like a baby.
The man stared at her tits -- he had seen plenty of naked tits before. Shit, any kid in America has seen tits and cunts because everybody knows those cockteasers who put together men's magazines always put dirty pictures of dirty cunts in a dirty magazine so that clean kids could have dirty minds.
But these tits looked clean, didn't look like they could even fit into the centerfold pages of Jaguar, or Tiger, or Police Gazette. And these tits had a lot of bounce and jounce to them.
The reason they were as springy as a Slinky was because Tina was shaking her tits at the guy. Then her tits stopped shaking because her hands had made them stop shaking. And now her hands were doing oodles of dirty things to her clean titties that were making the guy act like a clean kid with a dirty mind.
"I'll even let you fuck me between the tits. I'll even let you spray your cock all over these."
These, of course, was what Tina held in her hands, or what she could barely bold in her hands.
For this dope, she let them droop.
"Please... don't do that. I'll go. I'll fuck you for free. But, I gotta tell you one thing... I never fucked a woman before."
"Well," Tina said, curtaining off her titties as she buttoned up her blouse. "We're in the same boat. I never fucked you before."
The guy nodded. "Huh?"
"Come on," Tina said, dragging him into her business office -- which was the nearest alleyway where she had placed an old mattress behind some overturned trash cans.
Chapter Thirteen
The guy held Tina's hand as they entered the alleyway.
His palm was very sweaty.
So was his crotch.
So was the alleyway -- or at least it smelled like his sweaty crotch.
Tina took off her skin. Showed him her pussy. Took off her sweater. Showed him her tits.
God! He had never fucked a pussy before. Oh, there were plenty of times that he had seen a pussy before. Once he had even seen a little Mexican high-school girl in the girl's gym. And one time he had even seen a girl getting fucked by a boy -- while he was in high-school.
Now, Tina showed him a lot of her pussy because she had already shown him all of her tits.
"This is where the action's at, baby. Right here is my cunt, and right here's my pisshole, and right here's where you stick that big fat cock that's making a pissy mess of your pants."
How did she know his cock was making a pissy mess of his pants? He looked down at his crotch -- saw the pissy mess in his pants.
Tina's hand was on the pissy mess at his pants, helping to get his zipper down and his prick up.
His zipper came down. ZZZZIIIPPPP!
Her hand was inside, feeling all around for his stiff cock.
But his cock was nowhere to be found -- well, she found his cock, but it wasn't stiff like it was supposed to be. Jesus, what else could a guy want -- here she was offering him a free piece of experienced ass and his cock was more like a noodle after it was cooked than before.
"All right, you motherfucker. If you want me to suck it so it'll get hard, I'll do it!"
"W-Wait, don't I know you from..."
But Tina couldn't wait. She was on her knees on the mattress, putting his noodle of a cock into her mouth and tonguing it until it got very hard and very throbbing.
"Oooooh," he moaned.
Tina smiled around the prick in her mouth. It was easy to make facial expressions when she sucked a guy with a six-inch cock instead of those bludgeon-type pricks that other macho-type guys sported. Shit, with a six-inch prick a whore like her could make very sensuous faces and very sensuous noises as she sucked and sucked.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.
"Ooooh, oh God! God, I never felt anything so gooood in my life!"
Tina kept sucking, deep-throating the guy's six inches of prick. Her head went down, until her nose was full of the blond curls of his pubes. Her head went up until her nose was filled with the garbagey stench in the alleyway.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.
"Please... oooh, stop! I never did -- this before!"
Tina blinked her eyes, continued sucking his prick while a look of amazement crossed her face.
What? Nah, nobody was a virgin these days. Christ, every guy with hair on his balls fucked some chick's mouth before. Who was he trying to kid?
Then Tina realized that maybe he was puffing on an act. Maybe he was trying to make her put out with something extra because he pretended to be a virgin.
Christ, what the fuck did he want for free? A super-duper half and half? A round-the-world special? A walk on the spine with spiked heels? An ear job? A tongue-in-cheeker?
Tina started blowing with all the expertise of ten years of blowing pricks. She brought her tongue into play, circling the tip of his prick as if it were on fire and she were putting out the flames with spit.
And her mouth came into play, too, gobbling and sucking and siphoning as much cock-flesh into her mouth as she could.
"Oooooh, stop! Please... I can't stand much more! I've never done this before... my cock! Jesus, my cock feels like it's ready to burst! Please stop sucking my cock!"
The fucking unappreciative asshole!
No way was Tina going to stop sucking his prick. What the fuck was he trying to pull -- acting the part of a man who had never had his prick sucked. Shit, she'd show him how far his acting was going to get him.
Her head moved very rapidly on his cock, spittle and foamy cum dripped off the shaft. But the drops never hit the asphalt because Tina had her hands all over that part of his shaft that her mouth didn't suck. And those hands were jacking his prick as fast as her mouth was moving over it. Which was very fast.
"STOP! PLEASE STOP! MY... MY COCK'S GOING TO SHOOT IN YOUR MOUTH! I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE... OOOOOHHHH GGGOOODDDDD!"
The fucker was still putting on a fucking act! She couldn't believe it!
Besides her playing mouth and tongue, she brought her hands into the action. She cuddled his balls, fondled them, wrapped them in her cum-stained hands and started milking his hairy testicles.
"DON'T DO THAT! I'LL CUM! PLEASE, MY BALLS ARE GOING TO EXPLODE! PLEASE DON'T BLOW ME ANY MORE... I CAN'T STAND IT! STOP! Oooohhhh! GGGGOODDDD!"
The motherfucker!
The motherfucker was lying through his clenched teeth! Just by the way this motherfucker could hold back all that delicious cum as she gave him one of her sizzling blowjobs told her that he was an expert fucker.
Shit, no virgin kid could have lasted this long. No, no asshole motherfucker could pull the wool over a hardened hooker's eyes when it came to things like fucking and sucking.
Tina's jaws started to ache, but she was determined to give this guy the best head he'd ever gotten... and for free.
She sucked hard and fast, pre-cum filled her paints, made it hard to grab the hairy nuts that seemed to be contracting up toward his prick.
Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with this guy?
"OOOO-HHH, NOOOO! IT'S RIGHT AT THE TIP OF MY COCK! PLEASE STOP! OOOOOHHHHH, GGGGOOOODDDDDD! PLEASE DON'T FEEL MY BALLS ANY MORE! PLEASE!"
Tina felt his balls some more.
Tina also sucked his prick some more.
Tina was also feeling around his crotch, flying to decide whether to stick her right forefinger into his ass or her left.
She stuck her right finger into his asshole because she didn't have a cheap Woolworth ring on that finger.
"AAAAIIIIEEEE! NO! I'VE NEVER DONE THAT EITHER! PLEASE! PLEASE, STOP SUCKING MY COCK! DON'T FEEL MY BALLS NO MORE! PLEASE! GOD! MY ASSHOLE... MY ASSHOLE!"
Well, his asshole was no longer his because Tina had put her claims on it. Her finger was gouging the slit out of his rectum, feeling around for that special gland that would trigger his balls, that would make his cock bloat in her mouth, that would send all that pent-up cum into her mouth -- all for free.
And his balls were no longer his because it was now owned by a cannibal whore that was eating his cock like it was a thigh. Only it wasn't a thigh because it didn't have a bone in it, but it felt like a thigh that had cramps, that rippled with agony, that felt like one huge chancy horse in his middle leg.
Then Tina stopped. Couldn't take any more cocksucking because her mouth felt as if she had lockjaw. Couldn't take any more ball-stretching because her palms ached. Couldn't ream his asshole any longer because her digit had gotten a cramp.
"You motherfucker! Don't give me that slit about being a virgin!"
But the virgin mother fucker couldn't reply right now because when her mouth loft his cock he was right on the verge of erupting, right on the edge of spewing twenty-eight years of stored-up cum into the mouth of an experienced whore... and for free.
"But... I am," he said. "A-And I wanted you to s-stop, 'cause I..."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole! Now, you're gonna cum whether you like it or not! I'm going to get your fucking cock to cum if it kills me!"
Tina lay down on the mattress, held onto his cock and pulled him down after her.
"B-BUT WAIT! I..."
"Doesn't your cock feel good new?" God, his cock had never felt better. Most cocks feel good when they're entering a tight meaty hole for the first time in its existence. And being as this was the first time that his cock was entering a tight meaty hole, he couldn't believe the sensations that were running rampant through his balls and cock.
"OOOOHHHHH, GGGGGOODDDD! JESUS! NEVER KNEW IT FELT LIKE This!"
Tina couldn't believe it. The asshole was playing the fucking virgin role to the hilt. The motherfucker!
Angrily, she thrust her loins at his six-inch prick, brought her lower muscles into play and squeezed down hard on his cock...
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE! OH GOD! STOP THAT! PLEASE! I'LL COME IF YOU DO THAT! PLEASE! DO IT EASY! I..."
But Tina couldn't fuck easy. She could only fuck hard. Fuck the only way she knew how -- very fast and very furiously. As furious as her temper was right now.
The Goddamn asshole fucker! The lying motherfucker! She'd show him what it meant to play a role. She'd show the motherfucker how much she had learned about pretending to be in heat, playing the role of a women who loved cock.
She pretended pretty good.
First she grasped his hands and put them on her heaving tits, made him rub his palms all over her nipples.
Then she grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and forced his lips against hers.
And he was very shocked because he thought that whores never kissed.
And Tina was very shocked because she was kissing the first man in ten years of back-braking hard work.
And they were both very shocked at how much electricity seemed to jolt their lips as they kissed.
Tina felt something good inside her. She felt like thrusting her titties out at this motherfucking acting john. She felt like thrusting her loins out at this tricky trick. She felt like thrusting her tongue into this cheating customer's mouth.
She thrust -- all at once -- her tits and ass and tongue. She drove him up a wall.
Then the guy went crazy, came down from that wall and drove back with his own weapons. His tongue smashed against hers, his heaving chest met her nipples head-on, his cock drove to the hilt into the tight dark wetness of her meaty fuck-hole.
Then they fucked up a fucking storm on the stenchy mattress. And the sounds of their fucking echoed deep in the alley.
Slurp. Slush. Suck. Spud.
Spurt?
Spun? Oh God -- he was coming!
No! He had never cum in a woman before, never deposited his sperm in a woman's cunt before! He had never done anything like this in his whole life!
But he wanted to do it again... and again... and again.
And Tina went crazy with the spurts of semen. His six-inch, average-sized cock was driving her crazy. She had never felt anything like the electricity that sizzled through her flesh. She kissed him hard, as hard as her hole was hugging his cock, urging more spurt-spurts from his prick.
And the spurt-spurts kept spurting because he had lots of spurts of semen to give her. He gave her all of it; his balls became shriveled walnuts that couldn't sway because they were so relieved of carrying all that cum around for so long.
"AAIIIEEEE! GOD! OH GOD!"
And Tina said: "FUCK ME, BABY! FUCK ME HARD! OOOHHHH, JESUS! DONT STOP! AAAAIIIEEEE!"
But, when all good spurts come to an end, his prick started to shrivel, and as his prick shriveled, lots of white cum came drooling out of her hole, finding its way in gluey strands to the mattress that was soaked with sweat and the semen from Tina's last customer.
"Oh God... I knew fucking a aunt was going to be this good. I just knew it!"
"WHAT?"
"I said fucking a cunt..."
"Oh shit! You motherfucker, you are a virgin, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah... I told you that when..."
"You asshole! You didn't fuck my cunt! You fucked my asshole!"
"What?"
Tina looked at his face as he looked down at his prick.
His prick was shriveling very fast now. And it was crawling out of her asshole instead other cunt. He was vary shocked. He had never fucked an asshole before.
Oh God, he was still a virgin!
"Hey! Hey, asshole! How'd you know my name?"
Asshole answered: "Because I-I went to high school with you. I saw you fuck Harvey Jennings behind wood shop one day. I thought you were very good. God, I didn't mean to fuck your asshole."
"Oh shit, never mind my asshole. Who are you?"
"You don't remember me?"
Tina looked very hard at his face. Jesus, it felt like it was the first time that she had ever tried to study a man's face to see what he looked like. In her profession, faces weren't half as important as the size of cocks, or how clean they were, or the speed of ejaculations, or how big the cash, check or money order was.
"You look familiar."
"My name's Clint. Remember me. I was the editor of the high-school paper -- the Watchdog."
"Oh. Oh yeah."
"I think I love you, Tina."
"WHAT!?"
"I want to fuck you again and again and again. Forever, and for free."
Chapter Fourteen
Suzy Cocteau had turned out to be a very good cocksucker at the age of twenty-eight.
She liked sucking cocks. Ever since she had quit the college scene to take up a caner as a cinema cocksucker, she had been very happy.
Her parents thought she was very happy, too. They were under the impression that little Suzy was going for her eighth bachelor of art's degree in college. The reason they got that impression was that Suzy kept sending them letters telling them that she had made the Dean's list, that she liked school, that she kept her dorm room neat and clean, and that she always made sure to wear two bras during the winter and only one bra in the summer.
Now, Suzy was braless, and it was winter. To keep herself warm, Suzy was getting fucked.
To keep her body sweating and lustful-looking, there were plenty of lights on her body.
To remind her that she was the highest-paid hard-core model in the country, her director was motioning for her to turn her head more to the camera so that all those guys who filled the Boom-Boom theaters in the nation could see why she was the highest-paid cocksucker in tinsel town.
It was very hard for Suzy to turn her head to the camera. Very hard. As hard as the three cocks in her mouth were hard.
Her lips were stretched very wide.
The reason why they were stretched wide was because the three cocks were average-sized pricks, oh, about eight inches long and three inches in diameter.
Now, Suzy made mouth music: "UUUUUMMMFFFFGGGGHH!"
And the three cocks in her mouth were fighting for room, each one stabbing all over her gums in a vain effort to be the first prick down her throat.
The first prick to make it down her throat belonged to Emory Canon, a bit player who had some major parts in Suzy's last porno fuck. Emory had a very rugged cock; Suzy liked rugged cocks.
Emory liked putting his rugged cock deep into Suzy's throat, because Suzy's throat had a funny way of tickling his cockhead whenever she made mouth music.
"UUUUGGMMMMFFFF! UUUUMMMGGGHHFFF!"
Emory's rugged cockhead tingled. And Emory said: "OOOOHHH, GODDDDD! WHAT A MOUTH! WHAT A COCKSUCKING MOUTH!"
The other two pricks in Suzy's mouth were very jealous because although she had a big enough mouth to suck three cocks at one time, she had a normal sized throat that could only swallow one average-sized prick at a time.
So the second prick that got a chance to make it down Suzy's throat belonged to Marion Jarvis.
And Marion loved to have Suzy's throat gulping and spasming around his very sensitive cockhead. And he was glad that Emory had pulled out of Suzy's throat and had gone ahead and fucked her ass because he knew that the script called for him to be the second cock down her throat before he pulled out and fucked her cunt.
Marvin's cock was very rugged.
Suzy liked rugged cocks, and she hummed: "MMMGGFFFFFHHH!"
And Marvin said: "OOOOHHHH, GOOODDD! WHATTA MOUTH! WHATTA COCKSUCKING MOUTH!"
Suzy winked at the camera.
She liked to wink at the camera.
She winked again.
Then she felt that rugged cock that she loved so much leaving her mouth. And she also felt the rugged cock in her ass shifting slightly so that another rugged cock could find the room to penetrate her pussy while the third rugged cock started moving down her throat.
The third rugged cock belonged to Ephraim Marshall -- a retired Southern deacon who had wandered into the studios one day with his fly open and his cock and one ball hanging out. He had gone to the studios because he had mistaken it for the bathroom in the building next door -- the one that housed retired actors who were trying to play to God instead of the world. And he was supposed to give them a rejuvenating sermon about how God helps those who help themselves.
But because his eight-inch prick was hanging out of his pants, and because he had a Bible tucked under his arm, the heads of Cocteau Productions naturally mistook him for Ezra Bound who was to play the part of the traveling minister who fucks one of his church members as penance for crossing her legs in church.
Thus, Ephraim came to the conclusion that a career of having his cock sucked by the world's number-one, first class cocksucker wasn't so bad. So he shucked his collar and found a different kind of catechism for his cock.
Suzy liked tugged cocks.
Ephraim had a very rugged cock. It had tote rugged because his prick was sixty-four years old and had once been part of a retired deacon. But how his cock had been rejuvenated by the divine pleasures of the prettiest set of cocksucking lips that God had ever created.
"MGGGGHHFFFF! UUUUMMMMGGGGHHHFFF!"
And Ephraim nearly died when Suzy said those distinct words. His cockhead was being tingled by a throat that felt more like a cunt than a set of vocal cords that could say wonderful things like: "UUUUMMMMGGGGHHHHFFF!"
Now, Suzy felt like the queen of deep-throat, more stunning then anything seen behind green doom.
Shit, Suzy was a star attraction!
And she knew it. How many other girls in this world were paid five grand a week for sucking rugged cocks and humming a blow-job tune?
But then again, Suzy didn't want other girls to be envious of her. Shit, she knew that if they became envious they'd start sucking more cocks than their avenge of four blow jobs a week, and then, if all those guys got their pricks blown more than four times a week, they wouldn't get to Boom-Boom theaters to watch her hum on some very rugged skin flutes.
No, it was better that the average American girl just blow their husband's or boy friend's or brother's cocks only four times a week. That way, Suzy knew she'd make five grand a week guaranteed.
What stopped Suzy from thinking about money was the fact that the cock in her cunt was getting very big. Which is usually the first warning that a cock's ready to ejaculate. Very ruggedly.
And the other thing that got her attention was the fact that her asshole was being stretched as big as her cunt by a rugged cock that was sawing very rapidly in and out of her rectum.
And Ephraim's cock was ready to unload a baptismal spray into a mouth that he considered divine.
Suzy moved her body and mouth in all directions at once.
She had very good control over those sphincter muscles that gripped the cock in her ass and the cock in her cunt. She showed how much control she had by gritting her teeth; or, gritting her lips, and putting a lot of pressure on those ready-to-explode pricks in her hind holes.
It was easy to control her mouth muscles since she used them daily in talking and smiling and smoking and blowing pricks. She nibbled on Ephraim's prick, and the old man was fucking her face as if he had found the fountain of youth in his cock.
Then cock cream was shooting off all at once. And the cameras recorded for posterity the three cocks shooting off all at once.
Everybody had pulled out their pricks at the same time and were bathing the blonde beauty who luxuriated in sperm bath oil. Why not? Shit, any chick would dive headlong in a pool of sperm for five grand a week.
So, for five grand a week, Suzy licked her lips and caught as much of Ephraim's sperm spray as she could. There was a lot of spraying sperm because the fountain of his cock was spraying very spritely for a sixty-four-year-old retired deacon with a tuned cock.
The other rugged cocks simply shot over her ass and cunt, making her bottom look as if she had sat in a puddle of jizz.
For five grand a week, any chick in America would sit in a puddle of jizz.
Then the jizz from the fountain in front of her face stopped flowing. And the two cocks behind her stopped shooting white spray. And Suzy looked at the camera.
And the camera took a close up of her face as three cocks framed her angelic features. Then she winked at the camera and grinned a teethful of sperm.
Whew!
Suzy was very tired. She was handed a towel by her agent. A fluffy towel with the words SUZY Q emblazoned on it. Suzy wiped her mouth in the middle of the Q, then handed the towel back to her agent.
Her agent spoke: "You come a long way Suzy Q since you fucked that kid... what was his name? You know, the fucking wop with the foot-long cock?"
Suzy picked the pubes from her teeth, smiled demurely. "You mean Mike Mangallo. Yeah, Alice, I sure come a long way."
Alice Handler smiled at Suzy. Folded back the SUZY Q towel. Remembered the day she had taken the little blonde bombshell out of college and got her working on her back on the corner of Sunset and Vine.
Shit, was that only five years ago?
Christ, they sure had come a long way.
Oh, Alice knew it had been a long hard haul. Shit, it had been hard lining up all those blacks with fifteen-inch cocks who wanted to fuck some blonde pussy. And it was harder still to get high-school kids to ante up their lunch money so that they could gang-bang the shit out of the blonde kewpie doll.
Yeah, but experience was a great teacher.
It had taught Alice a lot about life. Taught her things like charging very high rates for letting asshole lovers lick Suzy's pert shithole. Taught her things like filling out an income-tax form for a corporation called Suzy-Q Enterprises so that they could declare bankruptcy every year so that they wouldn't have to pay taxes to Uncle Sam.
Yeah, experience had taught Alice lots about life. And it had taught Suzy a little too. Shit, Alice could see the wonderful change in Suzy the moment she started to fuck and suck for five grand a week.
Well, Suzy Q, of course, didn't get all that five grand. As her agent, Alice took out her usual fifty percent, plus expenses.
Expenses like hand-embroidered towels that were emblazoned with SUZY Q on them. Expenses like little Suzy's weekly D & C. Expenses like Suzy's eye, ear and throat check-ups.
And who the fuck pays for all that chap stick she always wore beneath the glistening gloss of all that expensive lipstick when she had to suck fifty cocks in a week's time?
Shit, Alice knew that old Suzy Q was indebted to her for lots of things. And Alice felt somewhat indebted to Suzy, too.
Christ, next week she'd raise her salary to two-hundred a week. Shit, that was the least she could do for the kid, after all Suzy did work hard sometimes.
Suzy was very tired, and Alice could see that she was plumb tuckered out.
"All right," Alice said. "Let's go home, have a nice warm bath together, then you can eat my cunt before we both hit the sack."
Suzy was very happy that all she'd have to do was eat Alice's cunt for tonight.
Usually Alice wanted her to practice her mouth music on her tits before eating her cunt.
Or sometimes when Alice was in a very bad mood because she had been negotiating more money-making contracts for Suzy, all she'd ask for was a finger job in the ass while Suzy's teeth gripped a big dildo that was to be used for fucking her cunt.
And when Alice was in a very terrible mood, like those days when she had had an exhausting time convincing the producers that Suzy was going to quit if she didn't get more money, then she'd ask Suzy to eat her asshole, then eat her cunt.
But now Suzy was very happy because all she'd have to do was eat Alice's cunt.
"Hey, Suzy... I almost forgot. The planes were all full for that flight to California. So you're going to have to take the bus. You'll like the bus. Besides, it's cheaper and you see more."
Suzy nodded, she was very happy that Alice had managed to get her a space on a Greyhound because the planes were all full. She didn't know what she'd do if it weren't for Alice.
Chapter Fifteen
Delbert Digbee was very pissed. He liked to be pissed because he could think straight. And he knew he had to think straight because he had lots of rat-fuck thinking to do.
And the reason he had lots of rat-fuck thinking to do was because that high-school reunion was going to take place next Tuesday night when all the Moosers were supposed to have their weekly meeting.
As far as he knew, it was the first Moose Club meeting that had been cancelled because that asshole Harrison Bussey had copped out and said that his high-school reunion was very important to him.
A fucking reunion was more important than the Moosers! That's what Harrison meant, but he just didn't have the moose balls to admit it.
So that was the reason why Delbert Digbee was pissed. And that was why when he came home today he refused to have his wife blow him as was her usual daily task, because he hated to get his prick blown when he was pissed.
Delbert played with his prick as he thought. It helped when he played with his prick while he was pissed because being pissed off was so close to jacking off -- like either piss or cum, shit or get off the pot, do something or don't.
Delbert did something. He picked up the phone -- placed an order with Elroy Sneezley, brother of an ex-Mooser minus cock, who happened to be an ex-CIA agent who found that running contraband arms was more profitable than being a mercenary far the CIA.
Then he did something else. He picked up the phone -- placed an order with Ferdi & Lizer pharmaceutical firm in Toledo for three pounds of Spanish Fly.
At first the voice on the other end of the phone sounded skeptical, but Delbert told him in a twangy Texas voice that his cows just weren't cooperating and that he had to have a bigger herd for next year because the meat prices were going up.
Then Delbert was no longer pissed. He had shit and gotten off the pot. Now, he was ready for his wife to blow him.
"Eleanor! Get your fucking ass in here! It's oral time!"
Eleanor wrung out the mop hurriedly, and just as hurriedly hurried into the living room. She smiled at Delbert. "Hi, honey."
"Fuck the hi-honey crap and eat my cock." Eleanor smiled, wiped the Mop 'N Glow stains on her apron, then kneeled before her husband and started oral time with his cock.
No, the Rice Bowl wasn't going to be another New Year's Day event where two football teams get together and bang crotches against each other.
The reason the prices were so cheap was because the owner Ho Fuk Yu kept them that way. Ho Fuk Yu was a very wise old Chinaman.
One of the reasons why he could sell sweet and sour pork for cheap was because he had cheap labor -- his family, all thirty-three members of the Fuk Yu family.
In charge of the kitchen was Joe Fuk Yu, Ho's oldest and number-one son. Joe was very short, not unusual for such a tiny race that has so many members, but he was good with a knife and a wok.
In charge of the waitresses was Hum Fuk Yu, Ho's beautiful wife. She was seventy-two, but she looked thirty-three because everybody knows Orientals eat a lot of fishheads and rice so they never age.
Which is one reason why the Chinese people never die; they just fade away.
And, since everybody generally agrees that the Chinese all look alike, there's not much sense in describing the other members of Ho Fuk Yu's horde -- other than to say they had typical slanty eyes, slopey heads and buck teeth.
The girls had very big breasts for Orientals -- but that's because they had modernized themselves and ate a lot more hamburger than their parents did.
Now, it was Tuesday night at the Rice Bowl.
Usually Tuesday nights were very slow at the Rice Bowl, and it was usually the day that Ho Fuk Yu usually took his clan down to the blood bank so that they could sell their Oriental blood for seven dollars a pint so that they could get enough money to buy one thousand eggs for Joe Fuk Yu to make eggrolls with.
But today they had not given blood. Because they had been very busy preparing enough food for the class of '63's high-school reunion.
Ho, himself, had planned the menu.
There would be lots of rice, which was a very wise thing to make. Because he knew if he made a lot of rice, than those honky folks would get stuffed sooner than planned, then hopefully they wouldn't eat all the mandarin ducks he had bought. That way Ho could save the ducks for Wednesday's blue plate special, and if there was enough rice left over on those plates, then old Joe could always throw it back into the skillet and make a very palatable fried rice dinner out of it.
Very cagey, these Chinese.
Ho had been very pleased when Marina Bussey and Beth Meyers had approached him about renting the Rice Bowl for their reunion. They had paid him cash in advance, which pleased Ho immensely.
What had displeased him most was Mrs. Meyers' dog Hamlet shitting all over his Arabian rug in the foyer.
And he was very disconcerted when his wife Hum had to smile very enigmatically as the Great Dane sniffed around her crotch. And he was downright dismayed when Mrs. Meyers insisted that her dog be allowed to come to the reunion because she didn't have a dog-sitter at home.
Ho had graciously allowed her to bring the dog; after all, they had paid cash in advance.
Now, the Fuk Yu family was bringing out the seventeen bowls of seaweed soup that Joe had prepared using his special recipe of canned spinach and onion-soup mix.
Ho was very happy because everything was moving nicely and he was making quite a profit on the bar bills.
It was a very nice group of people.
Up on the dais was Harrison Bussey, flanked by his wife-fucking friends Harvey Jennings and their wives Elvira Jennings and Beth Meyers, Arnold Meyers, and Beth's constant companion Hamlet.
Marina Bussey would have been up there next to Harrison except that she was taking care of the guest book and greeting her fellow classmates with a set of tits that looked like they had been pumped into her braless cocktail dress.
Since the Bussey's and Jennings and Meyers had been the most popular members of their class, they had naturally assumed the head-of-the-table positions.
The other members of the class of '63 need not be mentioned because they were very ordinary people.
People like Josephine Scrubble who didn't have tits in high school and still didn't have them now. She had zits during high school and she had zits now. Just another somebody with no tits but plenty of zits.
And Benjy Markham, who was noted for selling rubbers to freshmen when he was going to high school, but who was now employed as a quality-control production man at the Trojan Rubber Goods plant.
And Joe Smith who looked and acted just like his name -- insignificant.
And there were others in the crowd, but the people at the head table only acknowledged tern when they had roll call and discovered that three people were missing.
Suzy Cocteau was missing because she was on a Greyhound bus that was was late because every man on the bus knew who she was, and she was giving plenty of blowjobs to everybody who knew her. In fact, there wasn't one cunt on the bus other than Suzy's -- that was because she had been placed on a bus that had been chartered by the U.S. Navy to take frogmen up to Tweedy for swamp exercises in Lake Tweed.
The other two missing classmates were Tina Morales and Clint Mallory. Nobody knew where they were. And nobody cared.
Things started very passively.
Harrison made toasts to himself, to others at the head table. Drinks were passed around; people gossiped about who was doing what with whom and where and why.
Everybody was very happy.
Including Delbert Digbee who was standing near the projector. He was standing near the projector because he had told Harrison that he would be happy to help Marina with the slide presentation of the Bussey tour through Europe five years ago.
He had also helped Marina make the punch.
And he had also helped Marina relieve the itch she had in her cunt when they had showed up two hours before the reunion.
So he was very happy. Everything was going very smoothly. The projector was all set. The punch was perfect. And the two Mooses that Delbert had secreted in the kitchen were set to go.
Harrison rose from his chair. Announced: "Everybody got a glass of this wonderful punch my wife made?"
"Yessir!"
"I sure do!"
"Wowwee, ain't this fun?"
"Oh right," Harrison said in his best emcee voice. "A toast to the class of '63!"
"Hear! Hear!"
"Yippee! A toast!"
"Speech! Speech!"
"Author! Author!"
Harrison toasted. "May we have health and wealth..." Then he drank very solemnly from his punch-bowl cup.
So did Marina. Only this was her fourth glass of punch. And she was feeling as if her pussy had broken out in hives.
And Josephine Scrubble was feeling queasy in the cunt, too. It felt as if somebody was fingering her pussy. Which was something nobody had ever done or was willing to do. She looked beneath the tablecloth, wondered if one of those sneaky Chinese guys was fooling around with her pussy.
The same itchy-twitchy feeling was in Beth's cunt. She crossed her legs. Recrossed them. Double-crossed them. God, her pussy was going crazy!
Then Harrison announced that for entertainment, the class of '63 was in for a real treat: films of him and Marina as they toured Europe five years ago.
"Hooray!"
"Yippee!"
"Huh?"
Harrison gave Delbert the high sign.
The lights dimmed -- thank God, because all the women now had a chance to scratch that itch that was consuming their pussies and clits and assholes.
Then the film went five, four, three, two, one, and there on the screen for all to see was a naked woman.
A very pretty naked woman.
And the naked woman on the screen was saying: "I am a CIA agent. I do not look like a CIA agent. But that's one reason why I am affiliated with the CIA. Because I don't look like a CIA spy."
There were flume gasps in the audience. Harrison was stunned. That didn't look like Germany!
But the girl on the screen looked European because she had tits like the Swiss Alps. And she was pointing to her mountainous tits and saying: "All of you men will be CIA agents. And I am here to show you how spies from other countries operate. Look at my tits. Look at them very closely."
The audience was very quiet now; the men looked very closely at the gigantic tits that looked more like the Swiss Alps than human flesh. The women looked, too -- but it was hard for them to look because several of them had grabbed some of Ho Fuk Yu's celery sticks that he had set out as appetizers and were shoving them into their cunts.
"My tits may look very real to you. But watch out! Because within my nipples there are ultra-sensitive, miniaturized microphones. Beware of any woman who does not look like a spy and who has tits like mine and who asks you to go to bed with her and tells you to put your mouth on tits like mine."
The men were drooling now, and Harrison no longer wondered where his favorite footage of Italy was.
Marina pretended to stare at those spy tits, but what she was really ogling was Harvey Jennings napkinned lap. She saw a bulge and she was getting very hungry.
The sensuous spy on the screen now lay down and spread her legs wide. She pointed to her pussy and said: "Now, look at my pussy. It looks like an ordinary pussy. There is hair around my pussy. There is an average-sized clit... right here. And, oooooh, I have a hole right here for a cock."
The men nodded, agreeing with everything the spy instructress said.
Beth was finding some relief for the itch in her cunt, but she didn't know how long Hamlet could keep his tongue wedged in her pussy without taking a breath. Would this be the demise of the Great Dane?
"My pussy may look very ordinary to you, but it is not. Deep -- very deep -- in my pussy is a trap. Beware of that trap. The trap is very deep in my pussy and it is made to fit around the head of an average-sized cock. By using my cunt-muscles, I can close the trap around the head of an average-sized cock. The trap has teeth like needles, and I can inject truth serum into an average-sized cock while it is fucking me. That is how a foreign agent might extract top secrets from our country. Do not fall for the trap-in-the-pussy trick."
Harrison adjusted his cock because it had changed shape drastically, and he noticed that all the men were doing the same thing beneath the tablecloths.
And he also noticed that all the women were doing the same thing. Christ! What the fuck was happening?
Then the Star Spangled Banner was playing and the spy woman waved a miniature American flag. She waved to the prospective CIA agents and said: "Please do not divulge what you have learned in this film. God bless all of you, and make America safe from foreign subverters. Good-bye and good luck."
The film flapped around the spool several times before Delbert flicked on the lights and turned off the projector.
The light was very bright. And it showed very clearly what everybody was doing.
Maybe it was the suddenness of so much light glaring on them that started a strange sequence of events.
Or maybe it was because the Spanish Fly had reached its zenith and all the women wanted to get fucked.
In either case, an orgy was in the making. And Delbert was very pleased that an orgy was in the making.
And the person who started the orgy was very pleased, too.
That was Marina Bussey.
She stood up, shucked out of her cocktail dress. Screamed: "I GOTTA GET Fucked! SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCK ME!"
Harrison was aghast. "MARINA! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!"
Then Marina made a grab for Harvey Jennings' cock, but Elvira Jennings had already beat her to the punch.
So Marina turned around and made a grab for Arnold Meyers' prick. His prick was very available because his wife Beth had her head on a plate of won tons and her ass in the egg foo yung.
And that was when everybody went berserk.
Women grabbed for every available cock, eager to have somebody fuck the shit out of their pussies -- pussies were burning with an incessant urge to fuck and fuck and fuck.
They said Mooser Movies because Delbert had brought out his movie camera and was filming this orgy to show at the next Moosers meeting.
And that was also the moment that Suzy Cocteau walked in, her lips, very bruised, both sets of lips, and she was very happy to see everybody.
And she said: "HI, EVERYBODY! REMEMBER ME! I'M SUZY Q COCTEAU!"
The only one not busy enough to remember her was Harrison Bussey. And he greeted her with his foot-long cock sticking out of his rumpled Hart, Shafner and Marx suit.
And several seconds later, the last two members of the class of '63 walked in. Tina Morales and Clint Mallory. Only her name wasn't Morales any more, it was Mallory. And they were appalled at what they saw.
It made them sick. And they turned around. And left.
The others stayed because they liked being sick.
Chapter Sixteen
They were in Tina's Volkswagen, and Clint was driving.
They were heading upwind from Tweedy, away from the stench of a small town filled with people who thought that sex was obviously the most important thing in life.
Tina said: "I still don't believe it."
"Yeah, that was amazing. I never knew high-school reunions could turn out to be like some of those Moose Club meetings my grandma used to tell me about."
"Yeah, what a bunch of screwy people."
"Speaking of screwing..."
"Screw you," Tina teased, rubbing his six-inch, avenge-sized prick.
