Message-ID: <16720eli$9810250605@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/16720.txt> From: "OddManOut Anywhere" <oddman0ut@hotmail.com> Subject: REJECTED BY PENTHOUSE FORUM: Forced to Fuck the Irish 2/2(M+f,intr,humil,silly) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19981025051732.23496.qmail@hotmail.com> Susan looked shocked, but she didn’t look opposed to the idea. "Okay then, let’s double-pack your weiners in my burning bun!" she sighed, and leapt onto the prostrate Protestant, impaling her umbrella on his tense antenna. Coming from behind, the Catholic cocksman eased his sensual sausage into her slick sheath, until both love-logs stretched her opening to ecstasy. As soon as they were inside, they started oscillating in tandem in my wife’s hot hole. As the Protestant eased out, the Catholic pushed in, and vice versa. This constant stretching and stimulation drove Susan into a lustful hysteria, and before you could say ‘Begorrah’, she clenched her velvet vice on both their spars. As good as it was for Susan, the two men began to complain. "Aye, this lass is too tight fer both of us to properly pork her," protested the Protestant. "I know, I can barely move in her when she’s loose, not to mention when she tightens up, ey?" the Catholic man replied. Susan gave a pout and mused "I guess you’ll just have to take your turns packing my pussy with your ten-inch tubes." "Oh, I think we had a different idea than that," one of the men replied, grinning evilly. "What is that?" Susan queried tentatively. "If we can’t get along in the same hole, well, we’ll have to each take an orifice as our own!" Susan’s eyes widened, but she knew she had gotten in too deep to back out now. She had never let me have her ass in our private life, and I was secretly hoping to see her unpierced pucker get stretched out by a few of the studs in the room. "Will it hurt in my ass?" Not even trying to object, my wet wife was only attempting to anticipate the new feelings that would soon wash over her. "Relax," cajoled the Catholic, "I’ll be as gentle with you as with a wee bonnie baby." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he shoved forward, burying his halbred to the hilt in Susan’s tailpipe. My wife let out a loud scream, and I tried to get up to help her. As soon as I started struggling, I felt a hard bash on my head, and I saw the cane of Mr. O’Murphy sway in front of my eyes. "Now laddie," he said, not unkindly, "I know it may be hard fer ye to see yer lovely lady take some anal communion from a papist penis, but it’s what yer obliged to do under the circumstances, so ye’d best sit back and enjoy the show. It looks like she’s enjoying herself much more now." I was reeling so much from the blow that leaning back in my chair was pretty much all I could do. I looked over at my sodomized Susan and saw that indeed, a large smile of ecstasy was pasted on her face as her lovers drilled her for oil and coal simultaneously. "Oh honey," she called out to me, "I never knew that I could hold two faiths at the same time, and it feels like heaven!" Hearing this, the duo of debauchers increased their tempo, making Susan’s passionate poundings come in double-time. With a mighty squeak, she closed her eyes, and her body shook in the longest, most incredible orgasm I have ever witnessed. As she came, her two holes clenched shut around the invaders, triggering their own explosions in an orgasmic chain reaction. The two men squirted their sexual secretions deep into Susan’s body, then pulled themselves away from her holes with a pair of soft pops. Susan collapsed on the table, exhausted by the force of her clit-quake, but before she could compose herself, another man stepped up and planted his hoe deep in her forbidden donut. She could only squirm on her belly as the gaggle of Gaels stepped forward and pumped her rump, one at a time. Towards the end, my wife’s rear was a mess. I could see combined dick-nog of a room full of men running freely from both her slippery niches. After the last worker pulled his plug from her body, Mr. O’Murphy stepped up, and rather than soil his hands on Susan’s spermy skin, he took himself in his hands and began to prime his penis pump for another load. Susan saw him and instinctively opened her mouth to catch the blast. Mr. O’Murphy saw her, and laughed a short bark. "No, oh no, missie, I’m just adding my small ante to yer creamy kitty." Sure enough, he shot a large glob of Elmer’s Goo right between my wife’s cheeks, so that it ran down. "There ye go, that’s all I wanted." "So am I done now?" Susan asked in a weary voice, if not a slightly disappointed one. "Oh yes, lassie, you’re through here." Susan reached over to grab the rags of her clothes, but he quickly snatched them away. "Now now, and what do ye think ye’re doing, ruining this fine cloth with all the baby-mix leaking out yer pores? That’s just not right now. Ye need to get cleaned up." "Where’s the showers?" she asked, pushing herself to a sitting position. "Now my dearie, ye’ve had a hard night. Ye’ve serviced all me men, and done an admirable job of it. You deserve a rest. We’ll let Rob here clean you up." I was untied from the chair and dragged over to where my wife lay, come dripping off her body. We stood there, Mr. O’Murphy and I, silent, until I spoke. "So don’t I get a napkin or something?" My question sent my captor off into another little jig of glee, and he sang "Oh Robert, ye wouldn’t want to use such a rough thing on yer poor little wife now, would ye? She’s been rubbed raw already! Hee hee, a napkin!" His voice suddenly turned menacing. "Use yer tongue, sonny-boy." Before I could object, a strong hand pushed my head face first into my wife’s chowder-filled clam. The only thing I could do was open my mouth and start slurping up the testosterone treacle from Susan’s relaxed lips. I also moved lower and teased her pucker to try and take the joy-juice from there. She could take only a little of my languid laving before she started oozing herself from my tongue. The more excited my wife got, the faster the spunk would flow, and the harder I would have to lick. The taste of a roomful of other men’s sexual yogurt mixed with Susan’s honey was one that burned itself into my mind for all time. As I licked the last of the love-lard from her twin dispensers, I heard clicking noises behind me. Already knowing what to expect, I turned to see Mr. O’Murphy flashing away at us with a Polaroid camera. "Now Rob," he started, "this is a special moment for yer honey now. We shouldn’t let ye go away without something to remember us by, no?" "I don’t want to see pictures of this event ever again. You’ve humiliated us enough." "Aye, I understand," he lilted, a tyrannical twinkle in his eyes, "the quality of Polaroid is so low, ye can’t expect to get good results. It’s much better to work with straight videotape, just like we’ve been doing all night, ye see." I was mortified. If a tape got out that showed my white wife coupling with Irish men, it could ruin our reputation forever. I would never be able to show my face in court again! "What do you want from us?" Susan whispered from her post-coital coma. "Nothing you haven’t given us already, me sweet dearie. Just a wee bit more, every week, just to keep us happy. Now that I’ve got to cut costs back at me plant, good entertainment fer me workers is hard to come by. Do y’think ye could spare us the time, then?" Before I could recover enough strength to curse the lecherous leprechaun, I heard Susan reply "I’ll do it." "Susan," I cried, "how can you do this to yourself? You can’t come in here every week and get your every open orifice stuffed with yards of trobbing Mick dick!" "Shut up, Rob. I can and I will. Thanks to Mr. O’Murphy, I’ve found that Irishmen open up a whole new realm of sexuality for me, something that your limp 5-incher will never cure. Besides, this is good for you. You get to keep your job, and I finally get to fill my emerald aisle with Irish meatloaf. You can do what you want, but I’m staying with the green." What could I do? I loved my wife, and I loved my job. Now, Susan goes out every Friday night to the pub, and doesn’t come back until Monday morning, leaking Gaelic glop from every hole. I lay her down on the bed, and lick her clean until she comes (she says that’s the only way I get her off anymore), then she takes a shower to get off the rest that I missed. Susan says that she wants to start going on Tuesday nights as well, so that she can have her fun twice a week. She has also stopped taking the pill. She tells me she wants to have a nice Irish baby that will grow up and fuck some lucky girl senseless. It may not be the best of arrangements, but as long as I can keep working, and as long as Susan keeps coming home to me, being blackmailed by bogmen is benign for me! "It is only the great men who are truly obscene. If they had not dared to be obscene, they could never have dared to be great." -Havelock Ellis -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>