I really do hate my brother-in-law, Danny. If it hadn't been for him, my fiance, Stewart, would have never gone to a strip club. After all, Stewart's got his PhD, and now he even has an assistant professorship lined up, in the "Gender and Minority Studies Department." Hardly the kind of guy to have the sort of friends who would include a strip club in their schemes for his bachelor party. In fact, most of Stewart's real friends are from his department at the college, and they are mostly women. No, Stewart's real friends had nothing to do with it. Why, even the men in his field, like Stewart himself, tend to be exactly the opposite of my macho, asshole, trailer-trash brother-in-law Danny.

Danny, my sister's husband, has never seemed to like Stewart, but for some reason he came out of the woodwork this week, ten days before the wedding, and announced that he and his buddies were taking Stewart out to "sow his oats" one last time. Great. This, of course, encouraged my sister, Sandy, to throw together a bachelorette party for me. That was last night - you know the sort of thing, a gaggle of girls, mostly my working class friends of my high-school days, dragging me from bar to bar wearing a veil and begging free drinks off the male clientele - not my style at all, of course, but I couldn't talk her out of it.

The most infuriating part of the evening - last night, I'm talking about - was running into Danny and his friend Bob at one of the bars - "by accident." Naturally, that was the bar in which Tonya, a girl who had been my best friend in high school (until I went to college and she went to work as a manicurist) decided to start charging guys five bucks to kiss the bride. Danny, of course, paid up, but instead of the chaste little pucker most guys understood to be appropriate for such a "game", Danny stuck his disgusting tongue practically down my throat and grabbed both of my asscheeks, right in front of my sister, his own wife! She just smiled meekly and pretended it was all a joke, but it just burns me up how badly he treats her.

My Stewart would never be so disrespectful to me. Why even now, after a long night out with the "boys", celebrating his own pre-nuptial party, here he is, his sweet little head nestled between my thighs, gently licking and worshipping my sex. Perhaps a little too gently.

"Stewart, honey, I know you're tired, but could you please put your tongue in a little deeper...oh, yes, that's it baby...now back to my love button...Mmmm, just keep that up, sweetheart."

I feel an orgasm coming, and I just know that my uterus is in a condition to gush forth with the climax. Now this is definitely the right way for the bride to finish the evening of her groom's bachelor party - the sort of ending that gives a woman real peace of mind -- with him servicing her!

-o0o-

Well, at least I know that Stewart didn't go over the line earlier tonight. Danny made sure of that. Danny had assured me in advance that although Stewart would get to look at a bunch of strippers, and even get a few breasts smashed into his face, there would be NO lap dances, private rooms, or "special" groom's services purchased or allowed (at least not for the groom - I am sure that the other attendees, all of whom were Danny's - not Stewart's - friends, copped whatever feels and paid for whatever frottage they might have pleased).

Of course, it was no surprise to me that Danny had NOT made me this promise out of mere gentlemanly courtesy. Ha! When I called him earlier today to ask him this favor (at home, of course, as he is once again laid off from the tire factory), he agreed, as he put it, to "keep little Stewart's weenie dry" as long as I would do a favor for him. That bastard never misses an opportunity to prove himself a creep, that's for sure.

However, the necessity of keeping Stewart 100% faithful won out, so I agreed to his terms. Sometimes peace of mind comes at a price.

So, earlier this evening -- around nine -- I pulled my car into the strip club's parking lot to fulfill my side of the arrangement. Sure enough, there was Danny, standing next to his pick-up truck, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What are you smiling at? What's going on with Stewart in there?"

"Don't worry about sweet Stewie. He's getting nothing in there but blue balls. Seems to be enjoying the show, though, despite your image of him as Mr. Perfect. Are you dressed for success?"

"I said I would be, didn't I?" I pulled open my raincoat to show him my costume. He grunted and nodded.

"Wait, what about the -."

"Right here," I said, lifting a shopping bag in my hand.

"O.K. Let's get you situated. We need to get started - the pressure is really starting to build up with the guys."

"All right. But I just want to remind you that you are an uncouth son of a bitch for extracting this from me. You should be willing to protect Stewart's virtue just because I ask you too."

"Usually, Stewart's virtue is the last thing I'm worried about. Now just take that coat off and climb into the truck here."

-o0o-

A couple of minutes later, he had me situated just as he wanted. I was in the back seat of his pick-up truck - no wonder they call it a "SuperCrew" cab, it is actually quite enormous, with plenty of room. My "costume," which I had worn under my coat, was my wedding wardrobe, including the veil which I had brought along in a Macy's bag.

Well, not my whole wedding wardrobe. I wasn't wearing my dress, but at least I was wearing my white lace corset, the elegant one I had selected to pull in my already incredibly tiny twenty-three-year-old waist. And my garter belt, holding up sheer thigh-high white silk stockings. And my frilly white panties. I really like those, they're ruffled, and have a cute blue silk bow in front. You know: "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue." I can't wait for Stewart to discover the adorable little bow, on our wedding night a week from this Saturday, as he undresses me for the first time as "Mrs. Stewart Panderwayste." I was rudely interrupted in this pretty thought.

"Jesus, for a college cunt, you sure are stupid."

"What? Watch your mouth, I'm not some truck-stop trash like you run around on my sister with. What are you talking about?"

"Your panties. They need to go on outside the garter. How can they be pulled off like that?"

"Fine, why don't you just take them off me completely then, you oaf?"

"Oh, no. We need to put them on first so that they can come off later, believe me. Part of the whole effect. We got to change them around."

He reached for the front pair of snaps on my garters, separating the straps and then feeding them down and through the panties before refastening them. Clever - I thought he'd think he had to take everything off to achieve the configuration he was demanding. To assist, I grabbed the hand strap above my head - I was sitting lengthwise in the truck seat - and pulled myself up, which lifted my bottom up off the bench seat and allowed him to unhook, pull through, and then refasten the garter straps in back as well.

When I lowered myself back down to the seat, I relaxed my arms a bit. The chain connecting my wrists, which ran through the hand strap loop, jangled softly above my head. At least the bastard was thoughtful enough to use padded cuffs.

"I suppose you're going to fuck me now."

"You wish. No, I'm not going to fuck you...now. I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere!"

With a grin the handsome jerk slammed the truck door and left me alone in the dark. Well, not completely in the dark, seeing how the flashing neon "gentlemen's club" sign was shining on me through the back window of the truck's cab.

He was gone for what seemed like forever, but it was probably just a few minutes. Once I thought I heard him coming - I could hear sounds quite well in surrounding parking lot since he'd left the front windows cracked open several inches - but then I realized I was just hearing the conversion of a couple of skeezie guys leaving the club for home, probably to release their over-stimulated libidos on their long-suffering wives. I felt a wave of fear for a few moments when I thought about how these strangers might react if they found me helpless. Luckily, they turned in another direction, looking for their cars.

After that false alarm, I almost didn't hear Danny's approach until he was practically right on top of me. The second voice I didn't recognize.

"I still think you're bullshitting me, Dan. For the historical record, I'm not falling for this - I'm coming out here to humor you."

"It's not bullshit. She's in there waiting for you."

"But she's a stripper, from the club, right?"

"No, she's my wife's kid sister, and a week from Saturday, she's going to be the blushing bride of your new friend Stewart, the poor fucker getting nothing that we've been cock-blocking back in the club. Pretty awesome, huh?"

"Jesus fuck! I hope you're not shitting me, this is fucking great."

"Check it out. Here we are." The rear door at my feet opened, and the dome light blinded me for a moment.

"Holy shit!"

"Now you tell me - does that look like a stripper from this club, or like the classy, stuck-up sort of bitch who would wrap a poor sap like our 'buddy' Stewart around her little finger?" "I'll be damned. She even looks like your wife a little bit."

"Yeah, but her body is still in great shape, unlike Sandy's. And her pussy is a lot tighter."

"Gee, I don't have a baseline for comparison on that one."

"You won't, either, you fuck," Danny swatted the guy across the scalp good-naturedly.

"Sandy is my property. Well, actually, so is her sister Rachel here, but I'm willing to share her."

My pupils had constricted again, so I could see Danny and his friend clearly. I sort of recognized him, but from where I couldn't recall. I thought his name was Hank or Howie or something like that. He wasn't bad looking, a bit of acne, unusual but not unheard of in a thirty-year old man with a blue collar lifestyle.

"Rachel, don't you have anything to say to Stewart's friend here?"

"He's no friend of Stewart's."

"Sure he is. He even bought Stewie a drink."

"You creeps don't even respect Stewart, but he's more of a real man than the rest of you put together."

"Yep, I'm sure he is. Anyway, it's go-time."

I scowled at Danny and turned my attention to his companion. "So, I suppose you're going to fuck me, huh Hank?"

"I suppose I am. And it's Howie."

Danny laughed, and Howie climbed into the back of the cab with me. "I'll leave you two love birds to it, then. Howie, come find me when you're done. And remember to put her panties back on her when you're finished - for the next guy. Chained up like that, she can't do it herself."

He shut the door and after a few seconds, the dome light went out. In the neon sign's gleam, however, Howie and I could both see just fine.

"Don't think that because I'm doing this, I like it." I lifted my hips as Howie pulled my frilly bridal panties down my legs. He let out a low whistle at the sight of my tightly trimmed pussy.

"OK. I won't." I watched him unbuckle, unzip, and unshuck his jeans and boxers. As his disgustingly erect penis sprang into view, I almost let out a whistle of my own.

"And if you find out I'm totally wet, it's not because of you, and not because I like this nasty, unsavory, and totally classless scene. I'm thinking of something else."

"OK."

"And besides, I'm always moist, so it's not like I'm turned on." He didn't answer, but pulled a condom package from somewhere and began to rip it open.

"And I suppose you think that since I'm cuffed to this loop thing, and since I'll be married next week anyway, you can get away without using a condom."

"Huh? No, actually -."

"Well, I guess there's nothing I can do about that. I'm helpless, I can't stop you, and what with all the sex I'll be having on the honeymoon, it's not like I won't have to suppose any babies are my husband's. But for the record, I think you are a vulgarian for filling my womb with your blue-collar seed."

"Uh, sorry about that...," he stuttered, tossing the half-opened condom package into the front seat, right where my sister might find it. Great. Danny was probably going to leave it there. He was such an ass, throwing his libertine lifestyle in Sandy's face like that. What was she supposed to think if she found it? Naturally, she'd think it was Danny's, the detritus of some fling with a roadhouse whore. I knew better, of course - Danny never used a condom.

Hank - I mean Howie - needed to be set straight a little further. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea - that would be mortifying. "Just because I spread my legs, and pull them up, don't think you're capable of turning me on. I just know it's inevitable, so I might as well cooperate."

I did just as I described, and I guess Howie had decided to simply shut up and take my scolding, for the next thing I knew his fat cock-knob was pressing into my drooling cunt-crack. With my hands cuffed to the hand strap above my head, there was nothing I could do to hinder him - or to help him - but it didn't seem to matter. He slid easily into my belly, and when the solid tip of his stiff prick collided with my cervix, we both grunted.

A few months earlier, I would have judged Howie's cock to be extraordinarily large. He was certainly larger than my Stewart - not that size matters, not a bit. Howie was healthily endowed, which I guess is no surprise for the lower social strata, but it was nothing I wasn't accustomed to by now. After all, Danny and his best friend Bob have been putting their similarly large cocks into me ever since the day I had marched over to give Danny a piece of my mind about how he'd been treating my sister. I've already told that story, and let me be clear, I don't think it reflects well at all on my bother-in-law. I fell into their trap while trying to convince him to treat my older sister, his wife, with more respect, and I'm still on that mission today. Luckily, I have the perfect counter-example for him, my thoughtful fiance Stewart.

Incidentally, I think I must be starting to get through to Danny. He must have realized by now that no matter how many times he and his buddy Bob might fuck me silly, and no matter what absurd things might come out of my mouth in the throes of my animalistic orgasms at the end of one of their pounding cocks, I am still totally in love with Stewart, and Stewart alone. I suspect they are really starting to respect Stewart for the power his courtesy and tenderness have over my heart. I mean, really, no matter how many times I meet Danny at Bob's for a pussy plowing, or how often I let him fuck me in this very backseat, or even how frequently I've let him cum deep in my guts, right in my sister's own house, practically right under her nose, I continue to feel - and openly display - outright disdain for him.

So, although I don't like the idea of my Stewart going to a strip club at Danny's instigation, I am secretly pleased. Clearly the invitation is a sign of Danny's growing, if grudging, respect for my "real man" Stewart.

And now Danny's friend Howie, who probably just met Stewart for the first time this very evening, was getting a sample that would serve to engender his own respect for my husband-to-be. Stewart was able to command the love and devotion of a high-class woman, the likes of which Howie could never have, not truly.

And boy was he getting a sense of what he couldn't have! He was already sliding smoothly in and out of my slot, long-stroking me like a man who really knew how to fuck. My pussy, of course, was responding.

I am long past being ashamed that my traitor cunt seems to enjoy these bestial episodes. I realize now that under stimulation, its instinctual responses cannot be - nor need not be - justified against the context of the contrasting and sublime nature of my intellect and sophistication, nor against true, pristine love. It is what it is.

I wrapped my legs around Howie's waist and, using my cuffed wrists for leverage, I began to throw my pelvis up into the thrusts of this simple-minded prole.

"I suppose you're going to eventually anyway, so why don't you just pull down my corset now so you can get at my tits?"

He did so, of course, and soon his five-o'clock shadow - make that nine-thirty shadow - was scratching my tender titflesh while his teeth and lips nibbled and chewed at my nipples. I couldn't help but feel an electrifying connection between these sensations and the steady, deep, and well-aimed pounding Howie's very firm cock was working against my g-spot.

If there's one thing I've learned from my unfortunate relationship with my brother-in-law and his buddy Bob, it's how to tell when a big, powerful cock is about to come. Granted, my Stewart doesn't usually last very long, so with him, knowing when he is about to come is tantamount to knowing when he is about to enter me. But with these brutish sorts, it seems to take a little longer. Mind you, I usually prefer to receive oral love from Stewart anyway, and he is very attentive and accomplished at that, I must say. Imagine Danny saying that Stewart doesn't know how to make women happy. As if!

Anyhow, like I said, with these bigger, longer-lasting cocks, there are signs that an ejaculation is imminent. They sort of swell up, and the fuck-rhythm gets faster, and shorter. When you can see their face clearly, they tend to get a look of concentration in their eyes - practically the only time you'll see that with guys like Danny, let me tell you.

Howie was starting to give those indications. I decided to help - or should I say, my pussy told me to help - so I pulled my crossed ankles up a little higher on his midsection to improve the angle of incidence, I gripped the handcuff chain firmly with both hands, and I heard "Don't stop the long strokes, stud, just fuck it into me" come out of my mouth.

He followed my instructions - one good thing about a man used to being told what to do by a foreman - and at this new angle his spear tip started really battering my spongy spot dead-on, deep in my mating channel. Mmmm. "That's it, baby....keep hitting it...yeah....Yeah....YEAH!" I unloaded in a wailing orgasm, and the poor plebian was right behind me, machine gunning into me with his own grunting spasms. I could feel his copious load washing into me, flooding me, and for some reason this made me come again, right on the heels of my initial climax.

"Yeah, fuck me you bastard! Right into me! Come right into me you thoughtless son of a bitch! Oh god, yes, don't you stop, oh god yes!"

-o0o-

Of course, since I was still cuffed, I made Howie pull my corset top back into place. He almost forgot to replace my bridal panties as Danny had instructed him, until I reminded him. Jeez, these friends of Danny's are as dumb as he is!

-o0o-

The fourth guy to fuck me - right after Danny's friend Bob, who of course I can't stand, had taken a turn at what has become for him a regular piece of ass - I do like his uncircumcised cock, I must admit - anyway, not Bob, but the guy after him, the fourth guy, he really pissed me off. He just didn't get it.

Before he pulled my bridal panties down, he ran his hand over my crotch. I keep myself pretty fit, and I must say I have a broad pelvic arch, lying as it does between a pair of trim, toned thighs. So what I'm saying is, he was easily able to palm my entire pubis through the material.

"Jesus, you sure are a soggy little slut, aren't you!"

Now, this isn't what pissed me off. After all, I mused, as he dragged the sodden garment down my legs in their fourth removal of the evening, what do you expect when the leavings of the three previous bull-cocked studs mix with the fluids of my six or seven unwilling but quite spectacular orgasms to ooze out and wick through the delicate wedding fabric? No, it wasn't that comment that got under my skin. It's what he said next.

"This Stewart guy is pathetic, sitting in there getting nothing while his bride is out here giving it away to all of us. What a loser!"

"He is NOT a loser, YOU'RE the loser. He knows more about women than you ever will. He has a PhD in gender studies, for crying out loud. Did you even graduate high school?"

"Yeah, I did. I also graduated pussy school, as in knowing what it's for. That's all the 'gender studies' we need to discuss right now."

"Oh, yeah? Then why is your dick still in your pants, instead of in me?" I snarled the last, and he quickly whipped out, displayed, and drove home the biggest cock so far of the evening - actually, the biggest cock so far of my life. I fumed.

Imagine! Now a sophisticated, sensitive man like Stewart would never put his penis inside me without asking whether I was ready, and whether I actually felt like making love. In contrast, that sort of refined behavior will always be completely out of the question for guys like Danny and the dregs he hangs out with. But for crying out loud, if you're going to be a reprobate that shoves it into a girl whether she wants you to or not, you should at least be able to accomplish your task without needing the girl to tell you to get started! This would-be critic of my Stewart didn't even know how to be an uncouth lout properly.

I was so cross with him for what he said about Stewart that I resolved to prevent myself from orgasming around his oversized prick. I figured the best way to prevent a mishap would be to try to make the creep come as quickly as possible, so I started squeezing myself around his shaft in a Kegel exercise while he drilled away.

I'm afraid it backfired, though. He must have been drinking quite a bit before coming out of the club, because he certainly had staying power. Meanwhile, the Kegel exercises just seemed to speed my own unwelcome response, and the fucker long-stroked me through a rapid fire series of whimpering multiple orgasms before adding what felt like a full fluid ounce of jism to my already overflowing reservoir.

I was so angry with that guy that I didn't even ask him his name. A subtle victory, I know, and one that he wouldn't appreciate the power of, but I think I really put him in his place by keeping him anonymous while forty or fifty million of his sperm cells contended with those of the others' within my fertile belly. Both he and his seed were nobodies to me!

In fact, I decided to treat all of my visitors anonymously after that. Number six pulled out before he came and squirted in my face. Number seven was the last to put my cum-soaked panties back on me. Number nine displaced number four - the guy who pissed me off - as the guy sporting the greatest displacement in the cock department. Number ten wasn't anonymous, because he was Danny. He was angry that my panties were off when he got there, and my corset was mostly removed, too. But my veil was still in place as he slipped his familiar cock down a notch and fucked me in the ass for half an hour. I hate how he can make me come like that, too. Bastard.

Anyway, Danny zipped up and said he'd make a quick round with the guys to see if anyone needed seconds. He wasn't gone very long when he was back with the biggest black guy I think I have ever seen.

"I got a special one for you, Rachel. I know how you and Stewart feel about minorities, always wanting to stand up for 'em. Well, I realize you can't stand up, but maybe you can just lay there for him. This is Melvin, and we just met. He's the bouncer here, and was starting to get a bit suspicious about all the in-and-out traffic. However, he agreed to hold his tongue if you'll hold a load of his cum. I told him you'd be all for it, seeing how you're always going on about affirmative action and such."

If Danny thought he was going to score a point by making a hypocrite out of me, he was very disappointed. Danny actually stayed in the cab - sitting in front - while Melvin pulled out an impressive coal-black fuckstick.

I learned then and there that the stereotype about black men is pretty much true - he had a very sizable dick. He wasn't as long as either number four or number nine, but he did have the thickest cock I have ever been forced to enjoy. I usually hate stereotypes, which I think are degrading to minorities, but this one I suppose isn't so bad.

"Melvin, I want you to know that it doesn't bother me at all that you're black. I'm not like most of the people in this town. I'm not prejudiced."

He simply grunted, I assume in appreciation, as he placed his broad, purple cock-head against my sloppy slot. Danny was watching avidly from the front seat, probably hoping to see me protest so he could mock my principles in the future. In fact, he reached up and switched on the dome light to get a better look. I'd show him - I'd act just the opposite!

"Melvin, let me scoot up, yeah, that's it. I want to watch your big cock - yes, your big BLACK cock, as it enters me. I want to watch it, to show you that I don't even notice color when I look at a person."

Melvin just shook his head, probably in bewilderment at how liberal I am, and thrust forward. It felt wonderful, and looked even better, as his dark shaft split my pale flesh and delved into my depths. Even after all the uncouth cock I had reluctantly taken throughout the evening, Melvin's thickness provided a noticeably pronounced and new sensation.

I'm certain that Danny thought I'd break down and violate my principles - you know, by saying something like "take your big nigger dick out of me!" or something like that. But I don't even think words like "nigger." I mean really, like I said to Melvin, I'm color blind when it comes to people. In fact, as I rapturously watched his shiny black manhood pumping in and out of my lily-white belly, I felt more like saying "fuck that big nigger coc into me!" But I'd never say anything like that.

"Melvin, fuck that big African-American cock into me! I'm your white whore, baby, now fuck me good!"

Hah! That would show a redneck like Danny!

Melvin really responded to this encouragement, and started to drive into me even more deeply. I came once while staring at his blackness plunging into me. I came a second time while his big lips plastered themselves on mine and he slid his African-American tongue to the back of my throat.

Now, obviously I hate it when men who aren't my Stewart ejaculate inside me, especially because I never use birth control (well that's not quite true, I usually insist that Stewart wear a condom). I already had eight full loads swimming around in my uterus (remember, Danny came in my ass, and another loser came on my face). The fact that I am forced to accept these matings whenever and with whomever Danny decides will very likely result in a pregnancy one of these days.

But, as I thought of those eight unwelcome loads - a thought which caused me a mini-orgasm around Melvin's masterfully stroking bitchsplitter - my elevated intellect was struck with a concern: I might not get a ninth load!

Knowing what a racist Danny is, there was a very real danger that he would insist Melvin pull out. I mean, really, would Danny want his sister-in-law to have a black baby? I was very afraid that Danny would be so uncouth as to actually treat Melvin differently from his white trash friends, and make him pull out before he added his thick, potent, almost animalistic nigger sperm to the mix. I mean, Danny would call it nigger sperm. To me, well, I barely noticed that Melvin was black.

I had to do something before I became an unwilling party to a racially insensitive episode. I began to feel Melvin approaching his climax, and I felt my own lower belly begin to ascend towards my third full orgasm with this primitive black beast - not counting my just-passed mini-orgasm - so I hoisted myself up by my cuffs, wrapped my legs tightly around him, squeezed my exhausted cunt as hard as I could, and told him where to put it.

"Fuck me, Melvin! I want your cum inside me! Own my white cunt! Fuck a black bastard into this belly!"

That must have forestalled Danny, since he made no effort at all to stop Melvin from following my instructions to the letter. This pleased my enlightened sensibilities immensely, and my pussy rippled luxuriantly around the black man's massive manhood as he blasted his nigger seed into my orgasming guts. Well, that's how Danny would think of Melvin's sperm, but of course I never would.

I think, under the circumstances, that my future husband would have been very proud of me. After all, I treated my black lover as respectfully or even more respectfully than I had any of the other guys I fucked the night of my beloved Stewart's bachelor party.

-o0o-

I listened from my position of captivity, in the darkened truck cab with cracked open windows, as Danny explained to Stewart that he should catch a ride home with Bob. Danny suggested that the two stop for a bite, and he scoffed at my Stewart's attempts to avoid this plan.

"Your little wifey-poo can wait a little longer. She's probably already asleep anyway."

"It's not that, fellas. We don't live together yet anyway, so it's far too late to drop by there. It's just that it's been a long night and...."

"Don't give us that! You haven't had a chance to get your rocks off all evening! I mean, neither have any of us, but we weren't the guest of honor, now were we? Of course you need to swing by Rachel's place and relieve yourself."

Upon overhearing that report, my heart relaxed to match my well-satiated body. Stewart had managed to control himself, and none of those sleazy strippers had taken it over the line. I had what I wanted most - peace of mind about Stewart's bachelor party. I was so delighted that I had to stifle a laugh of joy. A dollop of semen burped out of my pussy in response.

Stewart tried to protest further, but Danny kept insisting that Stewart get something to eat with Bob before dropping by my place. That was sensible, since that way I could get home first.

Danny had no problem getting his way. I know to my regret that he can be quite persuasive.

"It ain't over yet. We'll get you something to eat and then Bob will drop you by Rachel's place. After all the sweet meat you've seen tonight, I'm sure you need to knock off a piece, huh?"

"Well,..."

"It's settled then. Sorry I can't join you guys at the Waffle House, maybe next time."

-o0o-

So, I got home a good twenty minutes before Stewart arrived, even given the blow job I had to give that pathetic Danny on the drive home. He sure took his time driving AND coming. Nonetheless, like I said, I beat Stewart to my place and Danny sped away in his fuck-stinking truck.

I thought about showering, but instead I just stripped down and climbed into bed. Stewart must have been really tired, because he used the key to my apartment without even calling first! Of course, since I was awake, and since I already knew he was coming, I let it pass.

"Hi Rache, sorry to wake you. What a crazy night. They even had girls on the stage simulating sex acts with each other. Unbelievable. Not an experience I'd care to repeat, but chalk it up to research. I do need to understand exactly how our patriarchic society still exploits its women if I want to be a leader in the fight against it."

"I'm proud of you, dear. Perhaps it will lead to a post-doctoral paper for your next Feminist Studies Symposium."

"I think it just might, Sweetums. You're brilliant! Say, since you're up, do you want to make love?"

"Oh, you're so sweet, Stewart. Actually, I've been wearing a new pair of panties today - something about the fabric hasn't agreed with me. I feel all rough and raw 'down there.' I don't feel like making love, but would you mind kissing me - you know - down there -and making me feel better?"

"Oh, of course my dear. Whatever you are most comfortable with. I don't want to impose my desires on you if you're not up to it. Umm, may I - you know, take care of myself - while I'm - you know - kissing you down there?"

"Sure Honey, you can take care of yourself. As long as you promise me one thing." "What's that, dear?" He had stripped and was crawling between the satin sheets, his voice muffled by the covers as his head made its way towards my bruised and sullen crotch.

"You must promise that you won't think about any of the nasty bimbos you saw dancing tonight while you 'take care of yourself.' I want you to be faithful to me, even in your thoughts."

"Of course, dear," he eagerly affirmed from beneath the covers.

-o0o-

So, within a few minutes of returning from a long night out with the "boys", celebrating his bachelor party, here he is, his sweet little head nestled between my thighs, gently licking and laving my sex. Perhaps a little too gently.

"Stewart, honey, I know you're tired, but could you please put your tongue in a little deeper...oh, yes, that's it baby...now back to my love button...Mmmm, just keep that up, sweetheart."

I feel an orgasm coming, and I just know that my overfilled uterus will erupt nine full loads of working-class fuckbatter upon my convulsive climax.

"Honey, you are so good at this. You know how I really juice up from your oral lovemaking?"

"Mmph"

"Well, this is REALLY good. It feels like when I reach my climax, I'm going to simply gush out my juices. Do you mind?"

"Nnmph"

"You are so sweet, Stewart. And remember, I don't like that yucky stuff to get all over the sheets, so do try to swallow it all this time, okay?"

"Ymmph Drmph"

"Oh God, here it comes, get ready...."

-o0o-

Ah, peace of mind. I am blessed with a REAL man in Stewart, no matter what jerks like Danny might think. How many of those guys would dream of being as considerate to any woman as Stewart is to me?

Not only does Stewart make sure to catch his own spend in his hand and thereby protect my sheets, but even more importantly, as the heavy, messy, congealing load that is my evening's epilogue sluices out of my spasming loins, he manages to further safeguard my linens by slurping down every lumpy drop.