Google Groups no longer supports new Usenet posts or subscriptions. Historical content remains viewable.
Dismiss

{Kellis} "Hidden Journal: Luncheon Fist" ( MF)

7 views
Skip to first unread message

kellis

unread,
Nov 24, 1998, 3:00:00 AM11/24/98
to
Hidden Journal: Luncheon Fist

NOTICE: The following file is one of an ongoing series, transcriptions
of files decrypted from the hidden journal of Harrison Everett Stone.
For a summary of their provenance see the initial file, D910412.ZEN,
included in the release, "Hidden Journal: First Files."

--Kellis. Copyright 1998

File D9104151.ZEN

<Thursday, June 1, 1972>
"Hello."
A woman's voice: "I just wanted to make sure you understood I wasn't
teasing."
"Eunice?"
"Who else has offered to be your masturbation substitute?"
I looked at my wristwatch: 11:03.
"I rarely jerk off in the morning."
"What's wrong with the morning?"
"Since my teens I wake up with other things on my mind." And that is
the truth. Often my eyes snap open with the solution, in the forefront of
consciousness, of the technical problem I fell asleep worrying.
"You no longer wake up with an erection?"
"Not so often."
"Watch that, Harry. Before you know it you'll be an old man."
"What do <you> know about old men?"
"I see. You surmise my expertise is limited to the young. I practice
with them now because I'm an old woman, but when I was young I learned a
great deal about old men."
"Old woman! Did you call to fish for a compliment?"
"I told you why I called."
"Okay. It's half hard already."
"Then come on. Mama's waiting."
"Give me fifteen minutes. I've got to run all these young girls out
of here."
"Harry, I don't care if you haven't shaved."
"For three days?"
"Or even if you skipped your shower. Just think of me as your fist."
"All right. Go unlock your front door."
"It's unlocked."
I heard that in the receiver as I was hanging it up. I took her at
her word, strolled the elevated boardwalk between her front door and mine
barefoot in jeans and the same shirt I wore when I left her place two days
ago, front open, tails dangling. It was warm in the late morning sun.
The super had better switch to air conditioning soon.
More than unlocked, her door stood open a few inches. I pushed my way
in and turned into her living room. The equivalent room on my side is my
office. It's first off the hall, too, but I made them install a door in
my case. Hers had only a wide doorway.
She was kneeling facing me, sitting on her heels naked on the thick
carpet in the center of the room. Emeralds gleamed in her ears and
nipples. Her eyes twinkled. "That's just the way you were on the phone,
isn't it?"
"It's hardly been thirty seconds since I hung it up. I don't have to
be naked to use my fist, though it's better."
"Oh, get naked. You're almost there anyway."
It only took three or four seconds. Clothes on the floor, I advanced
directly before her, wondering if she meant -- She did. Her hand took me
and her tongue made one swipe on the very end of my dick. She breathed,
"God, I love that odor!" Then my dick disappeared. Entirely. Of course,
it still had a bit of growing to do.
I said, "I'm afraid to ask what odor. I've not had a shower since I
left here."
She grunted, "Uh huh."
"You asked for it."
She grunted louder, "Uh huh!" The fingers of one hand wrapped my
balls, two or more of the others pried their way into my asshole.
"And you're about to learn my most shameful secret."
Her mouth took every gush I could stand to give it. Question: should
I reveal Daisy's technique? Suction right on the glans, though sweeter
than any honey, is totally unbearable after about the second good squirt.
I had to back away. It popped out and upward. The next squirt, still a
strong one after two days, laced across her nostrils.
Her eyes grew large. She sniffed as one does a nose full of mucus.
Her larynx bobbed as she swallowed. Then she burst out laughing as her
hand captured my dick and milked the last emissions.
"I can't <breathe> sperm, Harry!"
"I'm s-sorry." My knees actually felt weak, but she held me by an arm
around my ass. "As you said, that was accidental."
Her eyebrows rose. "When did I say that?"
"You said some such when you sprayed my face on Tuesday."
"Perhaps I did." She looked up with twinkling eyes, semen dripping
from her chin. "This reminds me. Do you know what you call a snotty
nosed whore?"
"I've heard it. <Full>."
"All right. What do you <ask> a snotty nosed whore?"
"What?"
"'Do you have room for one more?'" Another bray of laughter. I had
to chuckle with her.
"Come on, it's funnier than that."
"If you say so... You took all my starch, Eunice." I dropped to my
knees, pulling myself free of her hand. "I'd be happy to return the
favor."
"I'm in no hurry for that." Her arms rose and draped over my
shoulders. "How old are you, Harry?"
"Twenty-six."
She nodded. "I could've born you when I was sixteen. I wish I had."
"You'd really commit incest?"
"Huh! If you'd been mine, your organ would be twice as long."
"Twice? You're pulling something else now."
"Twice as long both soft and erect. If a boy's equipment is given the
right attention, frequently enough, it can grow significantly beyond his
natural endowment." She shook her head. "Unfortunately the opportunity
ends at about age fifteen. Sorry." Again her eyes twinkled.
"What kind of attention?"
"Suction, mainly, applied as constantly as he can tolerate. It
gradually stretches the tissues, you see, without compressing them. If
you could just <pull> on it, all the boys' would be big as horses!
Constant attention also enlarges the seminal reservoirs. He becomes a
real gusher."
I grunted. "Your sense of humor is outstanding this morning."
"You think I'm joking? You've heard of the Cuban superman? He was
raised that way. I have some photographic evidence I'll show you after
awhile."
"Never mind. It'd just make me envious. Why'd you ask my age?"
"Because you climaxed like a teenager. I can help you with that, too,
if you want it."
I had to squirm. In fact I had climaxed sooner than Tuesday's
teenagers.
"Shouldn't I want it?"
"Well, if Daisy knew how, she could relieve your pressure by
fellation, which would stimulate her. Then you could bring her to frenzy
with cunnilinction, simultaneously renewing your starch, as you call it,
and finish with a lengthy and glorious missionary session."
Good god! That was the exact program Daisy and I had settled into!
I'd never admit it to anyone else, of course. What I said was, "I don't
think you have those words right."
"I don't care for Latin. The initial fellation must be brief. If it
endured Daisy would get tired. Your intercourse would likely end there,
leaving her cross and irritable."
"Very reasonable. Excuse me, Eunice. Much as I enjoy hugging you,
this is tough on the knees."
She smiled, standing and helping me rise with a hand under the elbow.
"I'm sure I have a lot more practice on them than you do."
According to the wristwatch, now my last item of clothing, it was
11:14. I breathed, "Inveigled and blown in eleven minutes."
Her lip twitched. "A lot less than that. We've spent the last five
talking about it. But you did say you were easy."
"You are one interesting broad, Eunice! We've lived next to each
other what -- eighteen months?"
"Longer than that."
"I hadn't the slightest idea you'd entertain this kind of ..."
"Of what?"
"Casual fucking."
"And if you had?"
I stared at her. My semen still glittered on her chin. "I'd've been
fucking the shit out of you."
Her face sobered.
"What's the matter?"
She shook her head. I hastened to ask, "Let me rephrase that. I
would have been at your side very often -- and at your front, back, top,
bottom, wherever."
An eyebrow rose. "Easy to say what you <would> have done!" She came
into my arms. "Kiss me, Harry."
I was willing, wet chin and all. She pressed her mouth firmly to
mine, ignoring the bristles, I supposed. After awhile she withdrew her
tongue from my mouth and began to lick my chin and the adjacent cheeks.
Does she <like> bristles?
"What're you doing?" I asked. "Yours is the one dirty."
She stopped. "Then lick it."
When I had administered a few strokes, her mouth dipped and captured
my tongue to suck. I butted her in the belly with my erection. One hand
dropped to that, the other to my balls.
When our mouths finally parted, she said, "Before you make me totally
forget, Mama must administer a rebuke. Anyone seeing you walk between our
doors in the bright sunlight, dressed as you were, could hardly mistake
your purpose."
"Eunice, you're right, I never realized! It won't happen again."
"I hope not! I should turn you over my knee."
I had to grin. "And do what?"
"Stretch your thing, of course. I dare you to walk it stark naked
next time."
"Wh-what?"
She laughed. "With me draped around your hips. Have you noticed at
night how the trees block the street light? Come on, Harry. We have time
before lunch. It should just about be full."
I followed her, presuming she intended a bath. She said over her
shoulder, "How is it your car is in the parking lot every time I look?"
"I have the week off."
"Congratulations! You didn't tell me that."
"Would you have called me yesterday if I had?"
"I thought about it but hoped you'd call <me>!"
I was only partly right about the bath. I saw that her apartment had
no guest bedroom. Instead the guest bathroom had been enlarged slightly
with a separate door added into what was the guest bedroom in mine. In
hers you have to climb a few steps onto a high floor in the center of
which is set a small pool, about six feet in diameter and three feet deep
or a little less. It was full of water, steaming gently.
We heard water running as we approached. Apparently she had turned on
the hot water and let it run, depending on a high drain to catch the
overflow. Helps to be a coupon clipper. Now she turned the water off and
stepped slowly into the pool, sinking down until only her head remained
out of water. Water burbled in the overflow drain.
"Come on, stinky," she invited, beckoning with her head.
"I warned you of that, too. What did you mean just now? You said 'I
love that odor.'"
"I meant old semen. You let it dry in your pubic hair."
"And you <like> that?"
"Yes."
"<How> can you possibly ..."
"It's an odor associated with pleasure and security, when I was very
young."
"You were ... mistreated badly?"
"Mistreated!" she repeated scornfully. "My early years were spent
with two uncles, Harry. They treated me as a goddess."
"I see. I can imagine their sacrificial offerings."
"You needn't be so sarcastic. It was wonderful!"
"Excuse me. I suppose I am prejudiced."
"It's just your upbringing. You didn't have my advantages."
"No, I didn't."
"I'll help you overcome it. Come on in, the water's fine."
"Looks awfully hot."
"So get in slowly. Hot water loosens sphincters. You can put your
whole hand in me."
"I ... what?"
She chuckled. "Come along. You're sweet, but you really won't
dissolve."
It took me a while, but I made it beside her finally, sitting with my
legs crossed. Her hand found my shrunken dick and stroked it gently. I
gestured around me. "What do you call this thing? I've never seen
anything like it."
"It's a <furo>. The design comes from Japan."
"Really! You've been to Japan?"
"Oh, yes. And I fell in love with the <furo>. Nothing is so
relaxing! But I must tell you that one does not normally enter the <furo>
without first taking a shower."
"I would've done that."
"If I had let you."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I didn't want to be apart so long from this fine, upstanding
bit of gristle."
"That morning sense of humor again?"
"No, Harry. In this I am perfectly serious. The immature specimen is
sometimes inadequate."
"How do you classify this one?"
Her eyebrows rose but she said, "Definitely mature, after the first
blush."
"Blush!" I had to chuckle. "You accused me of using words
strangely!"
"I can't believe you haven't noticed the change in your glans as you
climax."
"Well, it gets a bit larger. I know that girls sometimes notice
that."
"Yes, but in your case, uncut, it turns from blue to red. Very
chameleon-like, considering where it is -- or should be, I mean -- at such
a moment."
"What's different about my case?"
"Your intact foreskin. The circumcised and thus constantly exposed
glans isn't blue."
I nodded. "It makes sense for a woman to notice."
"Of course. She studies it the better to use it."
"D'you call this using it?"
"Are you complaining?"
"No."
She squeezed me. "It doesn't complain. It's improving as we speak."
"You've squeezed it, tickled it, jacked it and sucked it. I can't
believe that's enough for you."
"Don't forget: today I'm merely your fist."
She fell silent, eyes closing. I snaked a hand between her legs.
Yes, the cunt ring was in place. I hadn't asked her if it was removable.
I recalled my earlier resolution to insist on that before a second go,
forgotten when the second go occurred. It had made the top of my dick
slightly sore, especially the uncut corona behind the glans.
My arm was across her breasts. I felt a vibration pass through her as
I fondled the ring within her labia.
"What does this do for you, Eunice?"
She took a breath. "That thing has simplified my life, Harry. It
keeps me buzzing, rather as I imagine a man feels when he's almost but not
quite erect. When it's actually stimulated, by walking, say, or paddling
or -- oh, god! -- horseback riding, it produces low-grade climaxes. As a
result it's much easier for me to have full climaxes, I think, than most
women. Apparently they spend most of their lives completely without
sexual arousal. The hard clitoris and puckered nipple is rarely enjoyed,
for some rarely even in sexual intercourse. When I was young my uncles
made sure I avoided that fate, and I have averted it since. The
vestibular ring readily focuses the attention. The slightest motion in
that part of the body, any vibration transmitted through the buttocks, the
barest touch of a fingertip -- any of these is sufficient.
"As you observe, today your penis has so far touched only my hand and
mouth, which ordinarily is considered but foreplay. But in my case I've
always been extremely fond of the penis. In fact suckling my uncles' is
my earliest memory. Such contact with one enlarges the clitoris, which
makes it more aware of the ring. The effect is that I feel a measure of
true sexual pleasure with one in my hand or especially in my mouth."
"It makes a weird kind of sense," I admitted. "Will it come out?"
"What?"
"Can your ... vestibular ring be removed?"
"Yes, by someone else. <I> can't do it! But Harry, I've come to
depend on it. With it out ... The last time I took it out, even a tongue
couldn't do me."
"Look. My dick is only average, I know. And I'm sure with your vast
experience, you've had ..."
"Larger ones? Many times."
"In all directions, I'm sure. What I meant to say is that mine is
still too big."
"<What> do you mean to say, Harry?"
"It's still a little sore. Along the top."
She laughed a little.
"Does it amuse you?"
"The simplicity of the problem amuses me."
"Thought you didn't want to take the ring out! Oh. You mean 69."
"That, too. Another solution is just to put my finger in above you."
"Your finger!"
"As you're doing now."
She was looking at me with a slight smile. She scooted forward in the
water, rotating her pelvis more upward.
"Give me your left hand. Form your fingers and thumb like this." She
held up a hand with the fingers straight but drawn together, the thumb
extended between them. It reminded me of the configuration by means of
which kids throw a duck's head shadow on the wall. I mimicked her.
"Hold your fingers so but let your arm relax." She took my hand under
the water and between her legs. I felt her pubic bush and her labia. She
adjusted my fingertips, pressing inward. That damned ring scraped the
base of my thumb. I twisted my hand back and forth, utterly fascinated.
Her slippery flesh parted for me. It passed tightly over the knuckles but
once past was only a yielding softness. She trembled and I felt the kiss
of her labia about my wrist.
Her head went back. "Ah! I do love that in this hot water!"
It stands to reason that a cunt should accept a man's hand. Mine is
average, compared to some that I've shaken, and the organ presently
clasping me was intended to pass a far larger object: the skull of an
infant. I'm given to understand by all witnesses that the latter
operation is most painful. Clearly my hand was not. Her head remained
tilted against the tub side, a dreamy smile on her mouth.
She asked softly, "What do you feel, Harry?"
Experimentally I moved my fingers slowly. "How easily you hold me!
Would it hurt if I pushed deeper?"
"If you pushed hard. The vagina is shallower than -- There! Do you
feel that?"
"The lump?"
"You should feel three lumps, close together, like fingertips."
"Y-yes. Your cervix?"
"Mama gives you an A!"
"Mama is kind. I have to admit this is educational."
"Never felt one before?"
"I've never done this," I answered, grasping the tips of hers between
finger and thumb and gently tugging it back and forth.
Her eyes flew open. "Oh!"
"Hurts?"
"N-not exactly."
I squeezed the lumps lightly. "And this?"
She twisted her hips. "An interesting feeling."
"A dick does this, I think." I rippled the lumps gently with my
fingertips.
"Yes, it does."
I studied her face. "But it's nothing special for you, eh?"
"Not erotic, if that's what you mean. Too much of it will make me
sore."
"Hmm. Does that have to do with the way women walk after a strenuous
fuck?"
"Of course. Harry, this is becoming too scientific."
"Too what?"
"Your erection is failing."
Imagine that -- with my whole hand in a cunt! I suggested, "Maybe
it's too ... different."
"Is 'esoteric' the word you want?"
"Probably, if I could remember what it means."
She chuckled. Her hand tightened on me. She raised up on her knees.
The motion produced powerful muscular thickenings near my still buried
hand. She leaned over me and said, "Mama's baby will suck."
I took the nipple in my mouth, ring and all, along with as much of the
surrounding flesh as would fit.
"That's a good boy," she crooned. Her hand worked faster between my
legs. "And this is a good fellow, too. I want to show you still another
way to avoid friction with my vestibular ring."
I released her tit. "Your hand?"
"Far better than that. Now, Harry, stretch out a bit... No! Don't
remove your hand. Let me get my foot over you. I'm turning my back to
you for a good reason. Stretch your arm and bend your wrist... Yes, I
think that will work."
She was crouched over me, out of the water from waist up, facing away,
my hand still mostly up her cunt. Her hand thrust down behind her and
grasped my dick firmly under the water, holding it upright. She settled
on it slowly. I felt it pass through an elastic obstruction. The
constriction slid down the shaft. My fingers felt it through her vaginal
wall.
She looked askance over the shoulder with the extended hand. "You do
feel it, don't you?"
"God, yes!"
"Spread your fingers a bit. See if your penis can feel <them>!"
"Y-yes. By god, it can!"
She chuckled throatily. "Enthusiasm is nice."
"But ... how does it feel to <you>?"
"I am stuffed, Harry. At that end it is quite pleasant. But
concentrate on your own feelings. Your wrist is in the way, of course, so
you cannot penetrate me nearly as far as you might without it. But the
novelty should be some compensation. I'd bet you never before, ah,
<jacked off> in such manner as this."
"No bet," I said. Her hand released me and she began to bounce on my
wrist, her motion necessarily languid in the water. Waves splashed back
and forth. I had to raise up slightly to keep the crests below my nose.
And she was right. The glans was far enough within her to feel the extra
compression of my fingertips readily. Examined objectively, however, the
purely penile sensation was inferior to a vagina with well toned
sphincters, as everything is. But, god, the circumstances -- dick up her
ass, clasped by hand up her cunt! I could never imagine such a thing in
my life.
"I'm about to come," I announced.
"Then try this." Suddenly the looseness tightened. She squeezed with
surprising strength. I realized she had deliberately kept all sphincters
relaxed until now. She controlled the timing of it, waiting for the
deepest thrust, otherwise she'd've shat me out. I strained as far into
her as I could. I presume she felt the moisture, but however detected,
she relaxed her grip after the first good squirt. Good thing, too!
"Finished?" she asked after awhile.
"Oh, god, yes," I breathed.
"Follow me up with your hand."
I understood that when she rose off me, flexing her legs, until she
stood straight. The water was above her knees. I stared at my hand, lost
between her legs. She leaned around and grinned at me. "Fascinating,
isn't it?"
I had to agree.
"Curiously," she added, "large things enter better under hot water but
emerge best in the air. It has to do with creating a vacuum."
I suppose that makes sense.
"Straighten out your fingers just the way they entered me. Now push
forward a little as you withdraw."
My hand came free easily, again with tightness over the knuckles.
This time I felt the stone on the back of my hand, which had twisted
inside her. Not surprising. She stepped over me, giving me a glimpse of
labia apparently as well closed as ever, and clambered out of the pool. I
couldn't believe I hadn't stretched them. It was a fine demonstration of
the elasticity of cunt lips -- I guess of flesh in general.
She took up my wrist watch and grinned at me. "Almost noon, Harry.
Aren't you hungry?"
She made cold sandwiches with sliced ham. We washed them down with
beer. She has a padded window seat in her kitchen, built into the corner,
and a small table on rollers that she positioned near it. We sat across
the corner, both naked except for her emeralds and my wristwatch. She
held a sandwich in one hand. Most of the time my dick lay in the other.
"What did you think of the <furo>, Harry?"
"An interesting setting for a unique experience."
She chuckled with evident pleasure and said teasingly, "I apologize
for making you masturbate yourself after all."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mom!"
"Then I take it little Harry enjoyed his bath?"
"Very much. But what about Mom?"
"The <furo> offers me low intensity sensation. Water damps
vibrations, you see. But the pleasure endures. My entire bottom is
stirred up."
"Still?"
"It builds slowly and dies away slowly. It's like a bright glow. I'm
sorry, Harry, but I don't think a man is equipped to understand it."
"Sounds interesting. Should I have my glans pierced?"
She grinned. "A touch of envy? I think the net of that would fail to
please you. How could you protect it? <Mine> is internal!"
"I see."
"Would you like to see? Here. Look at it."
She stood and put a foot on the table, holding herself open directly
before my face. I put a finger in her and caused a bit of gold to fold
forward, tipped with a smooth stone showing green through the coating of
her thin emissions. The flesh of her belly and thighs vibrated
involuntarily as I tweaked the stone.
"It's certainly sensitive," I remarked. "What about this?" I leaned
forward and stabbed her clit with my tongue.
She jerked back. "Ugh, Harry! You'll leave bits of food in me."
I grinned up at her. "Sorry."
She handed me my beer bottle. "Wash it down first."
"Thank you. I'd be surprised if you were finicky."
"I'm not finicky at all. But yeast can be the most intractable
affliction."
"I'll remember that."
"Men are fortunate in their own way."
She resumed her seat, hand resuming its play. "You said you're off
all week. Will you be home tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is Friday. I'll be there."
"My nephew is coming to visit tomorrow afternoon."
"Your nephew!"
"By marriage. The son of my ex-husband's brother. His name is
Charles and he's seventeen."
"So?"
"He's an odd boy, Harry. Very bookish. Skinny. Doesn't care for
sports. The girls have little to do with him, which is their loss. He
could really please them."
"Aha!"
"What aha?"
"Is he a graduate of Seduction One-oh-one?"
She smiled. "Yes, he is, with the fairy extension."
"The what? Does that mean what I think?"
"I expect so."
I had to chuckle. "Missed the mark, did you? Instead of seducing
girls he became one?"
"Not exactly. He enjoys a female almost as much as you do. But he
also enjoys males."
"A cock sucker?"
"You and your deliberate crudeness! Do you enjoy shocking me?"
"I enjoy the <idea> of shocking you. I wonder what it would really
take."
"Harry, don't be mean."
"Well, is he?"
"Yes, he is a willing fellator. And a catamite."
"What's that?"
"He enjoys being taken anally."
"As you do?"
She laughed. "Not as <I> do it!"
"But he also likes girls," I mused, "Aren't such people called
bisexuals?"
"If so it's a new term."
"Eunice, who taught you 'catamite?'"
"My uncles. They gave me a thorough education, especially in their
favorite subject."
"No need to ask what subject. Why are you telling me about Charles?
Seventeen, eh? At least they can't charge you with aiding his delinquency
now."
"He's no delinquent, Harry. Sex is his only vice. He's actually
ingenious at it. He's built several electrically powered machines to help
him masturbate. Did you know electric shock can be used for that?"
"No, I don't! Don't let a kid pull your leg."
"He built a ... pulse generator, I believe it's called, arranged so
that he can vary the rate and the strength. He's the one who understands
electricity, not I. But it works. I've seen it cause boys to ejaculate."
"You have it here?"
"No, no. It's a small device, about like a cigarette pack with
clamps. He had it in his bag."
"Interesting. Of course, damn near <anything> will cause boys to
squirt! Eunice, once again, why are you telling me this?"
"He's arriving tomorrow afternoon to spend the night."
"I see."
"I don't think you do."
She stared at me. Suddenly I understood. "You want me here, too."
"Harry, he's a diffident lad, not aggressive at all, with a sweet
disposition and complaisant to any suggestion. And most importantly he
has learned discretion very well. I am the only one he dares tell of his
exploits."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know the father. He's deathly afraid of the man. But
Charles knows he can trust me."
"Why do you want me to meet him, Eunice?"
"He represents an opportunity for you, Harry. Two opportunities,
actually."
"I suppose I should be flattered that you find me trustworthy."
"It's a bit early to be certain," she said, her face composed, "but I
believe you are."
Apparently she does. I could do her much greater harm, I think, than
she can do me.
"What are these opportunities?"
"I gather you've had negative experiences with homosexuals."
I shrugged. "I've submitted a couple of times, because females
weren't available and because I wondered if there was anything to the
claim that another man should be able to give better head, knowing what a
man needs."
"What did you find?"
I almost told her nobody does it as well as Daisy, not even she. What
I actually said was, "Nothing special. Sensually speaking, nothing
compares to a cunt."
"But you never did it yourself, did you?"
"Did what? I just told -- oh."
"This is your chance to do it. You can use Charles any way you like."
"I've already told you, Eunice: I'm no cock sucker."
"I believe you said you have no use for men. Fair enough. Charles is
not yet a man. But he has sweet equipment."
"Sweet! What does a woman mean by that?"
"Usually she means 'small.'"
"Small?"
"As in 'cute' or 'precious.'"
"Say it, Eunice. Is his dick smaller than mine?"
"About two thirds the size, as I recall. He has never seen fit to
complain about my ring."
"Your stretching program didn't work?"
"Oh, he wasn't with me nearly enough for that! The Cuban superman's
father made his four older sisters alternate that duty around the clock."
"Just how long was that superdick?"
"22 inches."
"Ridiculous!"
"I saw it measured."
"You've been to Cuba, too, eh?"
"Often -- before Castro, of course."
"Well, I won't call you a liar, but I don't see how a woman could
enjoy one like that. No cunt is that deep."
"Her rectum is."
"If you say so. But taking it up the ass -- how can that be
pleasurable?"
"Think back, Harry. A child's anus furnishes pleasurable sensations
to encourage him to defecate. Most people lose that as they grow to
puberty: that is, the intrinsic pleasure, though there are ways to retain
it longer. And women can climax anally because of the compression
transmitted to the clitoris."
"What about men?"
"I have little data. Charles claims to enjoy it. One of his machines
simulates a plunging penis rather well, though a bit too frenzied."
"I can imagine," I said dryly. "You said <two> opportunities!"
"Yes, I did. Did you ever share a woman with another male?"
"Huh? Of course."
"I mean at the same time."
"Uh, no." In Vietnam I had turned down such an offer. As a result
I'd wondered what I missed. Not much, I think.
She was watching me with a twinkle. "The Greeks are given the credit
for inventing it, Harry, but it's pictured in paintings 20,000 years old
on the wall of a French cave."
"Trust the French, eh?"
"They don't show that part to tourists, but I've seen it. It's
surrounded by religious marks. It's powerful stuff."
"For the woman."
She nodded. "Of course."
"And that's the real reason for this interesting invitation, isn't
it?"
She laughed. "I admit it. I hope you aren't being sarcastic."
"No. It <is> an interesting invitation!"
Abruptly she changed the subject. "This fellow seems ready again."
"He likes attention."
"Does he like to give it?"
"Certainly."
"Well, Mama needs a little." She released me, stood up and bent over
the table, her tit rings clicking on the surface, her smooth rump spread
before me.
I said curiously, "Eunice, how do you avoid the pimples that everybody
else has all over their ass cheeks?"
"I give the <furo> full credit. Now don't go scientific again."
I chuckled. "Never heard that word used to mean 'soft' before."
I rose and worked it into her. Now the damned ring was only too
evident on the bottom of my dick. In this orientation, to my surprise, I
was just beginning to think something good might be said of it, when she
raised her head enough to turn back and regard me from the corner of her
eye. "It's wet enough. Put it where you can avoid my ring."
I might've stooped and put it between her compressed thighs or gone to
tiptoes and laid it in her crack. Sure! Instead I presented it to her
anus. Right guess! Her hands came back and spread her cheeks wider.
"All the way this time."
When I was pumping satisfactorily, she spread her legs and put both
hands between them. Her fingertips rippled my balls. Both hands? I
felt a vibration in my dick. Apparently the other was flicking the ring.
Her sphincter alternately tightened and relaxed, again and again. The
anal sphincter is particularly noticeable, of course.
"Tell me when you start to climax," she commanded.
Fucking someone over a table with rollers turns out to be
distracting. It tends to slip right out from under you! I solved the
problem by turning it against her bar counter, where it bumped annoyingly
with each thrust.
A man's third climax does not focus his attention nearly so well as
the first, but hand and rectum eventually reached their goal.
"I'm starting," I announced as the fluid rose.
With startling speed she spun about, shoving the table away, knelt and
hugged my buttocks, nearly tripping me up. Her mouth clamped me. My
third offering, such as it was, disappeared. Of course, I couldn't bear
to stay in place, though I had to force her face away with my hands.
Does she treat her boys' tender dicks the same? Is mine truly that much
more sensitive than the cut ones?
She pulled herself up with her arms, lips raised to kiss me. I was
reluctant, considering where my dick had been before she took its juice.
But I accepted the kiss, expecting the same present as before. Though she
presented her tongue, nothing else came with it. I was pleasantly
surprised not to detect offal. The <furo>?
She cocked an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Harry?"
I took a breath and simply asked. "How is it that your ass doesn't
stink?"
Her eyes twinkled. "An enema before you came and of course a swabbing
in the <furo>."
"An enema!"
"Did you think I hadn't <planned> our little <tete-a-tete>? You'll
find that I'm a <good> mama!"
"I see. Thank you kindly."
"Well, it does avoid the ring, you must admit."
"That's ironic. I discovered that your ring has a certain advantage
on the <bottom> of a dick!"
"Really? What advantage?"
"A little extra stimulation."
"Wouldn't it make you just as sore?"
"I don't know."
"Let's find out."
"Uh, not just now, if you don't mind. Eunice, don't you ever get
enough?"
She answered with feeling. "No, I don't! I hope to die right after
I finally do."
Very rare in a woman, I think: one who lives only for sex. Rare in
my experience, at least. In truth, unique. For an hour or two we talked
about the many ways she has pursued "enough." I realized after awhile
that what she was doing was bragging. Did she have no other confidant?
The conversation lagged. She kept turning around to look at the clock
on her kitchen wall. I got the hint and returned to my place, where I
found that I could just see the edge of her balcony from the window in my
guest bedroom closest to it. I had been watching less than five minutes
when David ran down the bank, leapt and caught the bottom of her railing.
He swarmed up it like a monkey. That's an avenue to her pussy not usable
by everyone!
No further mention of her invitation. That's something I'll have to
stew. There is tremendous novelty in the idea of holding a woman between
me and another man, feeling his dick jostle mine through her flesh. A
hell of lot would depend on the other man. If he was one I respected --
except is it possible to respect the man who'd do such a thing? Talk
about hypocrisy!
A man who deserves little respect, less than a man though equipped
like one, might be another matter. An issue of power and control. I
could slap that one down, treat him as one of his masturbating machines.
But what am I afraid of?
I am mildly curious as to how a spurting dick would feel, how it would
taste or smell. Would it gag if it reached the back of the throat?
Strangle? I've noticed such reactions in women. Surely there is no
sexual difference in throats!
I amuse me. I react to these ideas the way I imagine a virgin girl
might.

--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-...@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story...@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>


0 new messages