DOGGY STYLE! LITTER-ALLY!

silly, but I couldn't get her to scream the same way.
I guessed my dick wasn't thick or long enough to hit the right buttons. I also told her to grab my ass cheeks, which she readily did. And, funny, she also said, "I love you, Arthur!" Twice! Go figure!

Albert and I shared her for the next six months, with only me and Joyce knowing that fact. And Joyce having no idea I knew about Albert. She was blatantly cheating on me with him, and just as blatantly cheating on him with me. He was my cuckold and I was his, but somehow I felt I had the better deal. For I was, ha ha, the only one of us three with complete carnal knowledge of it all.

During this period, I watched them in the park about a couple dozen more times, or so. He was such a creature of habit; I sometimes would take a shot at it, and be there before them! I even joked to myself that I wished they would tell me when they were going there, so I would have time to buy some snacks, and get set up comfortably for the evening's entertainment.

Once, months into our little game, I followed them back to Joyce's house. I waited until he had driven off, and then I ran up and caught her before she went in. When she asked me how long I'd been there, I lied and said I had just arrived.

I managed, through wheedling, cajoling, and almost begging, to get her to go with me to the back of her house. There, in the almost total darkness, I kissed her, and smelled his cheap cologne on her. Then I fucked her from behind, her skirt up over her back, and her panties down around her knees. I could feel his cum inside her. It even sqooshed out around my cock on my initial out strokes.

As I added my load to his, I knew for the first time, then and there, that I no longer had the puppy love for her I once had. It should have left me much earlier, but it hung on, like a long sickness.

I pulled this trick on her a dozen times at least, following them to her place, and having sex with her in the darkness, right behind her house. She never suspected a thing, or at least she never said anything about how strange it was that I was always Johnny on the spot. Each time right after her park escapades. Then again, maybe she knew and it turned her on. Who knows?

When I turned 18, I joined the Navy, and I didn't see her for a long, long time after that. Then, in on shore leave, I ran into her on the street. We went and had a few beers at a local bar. She filled me in, and then some.

Among other things, sweet and cuddly Teddy bear Albert had knocked her up, and, after she had told him so, sweet and cuddly Teddy bear Albert punched her in the stomach, causing her to miscarriage.

Big surprise, eh? From a guy who thinks it's wrong for a girl to say I love you during sex. They had broken up over it, and she was now footloose and fancy free. I read it as in invitation of sorts.

I was tempted, to be sure, to pick up our old thread and see where it led us, but because I was dating a real stunner at the time, I gave it no more thought than a wild and crazy idea whose time had passed the doing point.

Joyce also mentioned something that had me thinking about her sister, Jill, her twin sister, no less. A fraternal twin, not identical. In fact, they looked nothing at all alike, except for hair coloring. Jill was much shorter, chunkier, and with a lazy eye that wandered off in all directions. She also acted, with good reason, sillier and more girlishly.

By a problem at their birth, it was said, Jill was born mildly retarded. It was also rumored that Jill had a penchant for giving blowjobs. Every day, right after school, so the story went, she would go to a local garage and give head to the five guys who worked there.

This story made the rounds with such great frequency; it was difficult to believe it wasn't true. And many times, with my own eyes, I saw Jill leaving the garage, and being real chummy with the guys. The kind of chummy that speaks volumes.

At times, I had the urge to pump Joyce for affirmation or denial of Jill's cocksucking adventures, but I was afraid to take us into uncharted conversational territory. It might piss her off to the extent she denied me her pussy and mouth. Besides, 99% of me already believed the story to be factual.

I also had the suspicion, superficial at best, that Joyce and Jill were doing each other. The only things pointing in this direction, innocent enough things for sure, were their super odd familiarity with each other. They hugged and touched each other just a tad too much, in my opinion, and were constantly saying I love you to each other, and I caught them, on many occasions, winking at each other, as if sharing a deep secret.

Of course, all of this could be easily explained away as pure innocence, and, as proof of anything funny occurring, it's really zip. Joyce could simply have been showing affection for a handicapped sibling, one who needed constant reassuring. But the feelings I had on the matter, very strong feelings, I might add, seemed to indicate otherwise.

Anyway, Joyce had me thinking about Jill because of something she told me about old Teddy bear Albert. He was now working part-time at the aforementioned garage! Cheek and jowl with the other five men.

This fact, let me tell you, really had me wondering about sister Jill . . .

Fini!

* * * * * * My assistant's hot surprise for me!

MY ASSISTANT PAUL and I were working on the weekend, Saturday to be precise, on a rush-rush project. We usually worked a good 14 hours a day on these kinds of jobs, for days on end. It helped that we took a two-hour break in the middle, to eat, to shit, or whatever. On one occasion, Paul said he had a nice surprise for me on the next break. Fucker wouldn't tell me any more than that.

Bingo! Break time. Paul asked me if I was ready for the surprise. I said yes and he went out of the office to get it. I had no idea what to expect as Paul was the playful, nutty type.

Less than five minutes later he's back, with Christa, a mid-twenties woman who was a secretary to a lawyer that had an office on the same floor as mine. I knew Christa, but not well. We had chatted here and there, in the hall, the elevator and, a few times, across tables at lunchtime.

Paul came over to me and whispered into my ear, which I regarded as a rude slight to Christa, "She's gonna blow you, all you have to do is whip it out!" Before I could say anything, he was headed for the door. Over his shoulder he tossed out, "Be back in an hour. Have fun, you two!" I heard Paul use his key to lock the door. Thoughtful of him, I thought.

I looked at Christa, who had her eyes glued on the carpet. Now, I'm not saying she was a dog, but St. Bernard’s would find her attractive. Oh, her body was fine enough, with shapely breasts, a thin waspy waist, and nice long and lithe legs, but her face needed work. Lots of work!

It looked as if some witch, truly pissed at her, had exchanged her previously beautiful head for one that resembled Ben Franklin, but with Martha Raye's mouth thrown in. She was butt ugly, to put it mildly.

You may not believe this, but I'm the kind of guy who doesn't give two shits about looks. Hell, I would have married her, dogface and all, if she weren’t so frigging dumb. And that's dumb spelled s-t-u-p-i-d. And she was as boring as boring can get. All she seemed to care about was cosmetic makeup. Her eyes lit up at the sight of a lipstick tube.

She didn't read anything, either. Book, magazines, newspapers were left to other folks to explore. They bored her, she once told me. Well, I could have played Henry Higgins to her Eliza, but I lacked the patience for what I believed would be a job requiring more than 14 hours a day.

I said to her, "Paul tells me you like giving head. Is that true?" She looked at me and nodded. Our ice had been, ha ha, broken.

I took command of the willing woman by saying, "Come over here." She came to me and stood before me, almost at attention. I put my hands on each of her shoulders and pushed gently downward. She sank to her knees with no more insistence on my part than that. I decided to play cruise director, or sex slave master, to her. Take your pick.

"Take my pants and shorts down, Christa." She did, giving me an erection.

"Suck my balls and get them really wet." She did.

"Kiss my cock all over." She did.

"You want to suck me off?" She nodded.

"Will you suck it really well?" She nodded.

"You like sucking cock?" She nodded.

"Have you sucked Paul's cock?" She nodded. I was having such fun.

"Lots of times?" She nodded. Hmmm.

"Where do you suck him off?" I was curious.

"In the law office, when my boss goes to lunch." Ho ho. That Paul.

"Have you ever sucked off more than one guy at a time?" She nodded.

"How many?"

"Forty-two." Holy shit! I was expecting two, maybe even three, with four as a wild stab. But forty-two floored me. And she had said it so quickly.

I walked over to a chair and sat down, signaling for her to kneel between my knees. She did.

"Now, Christa, tell me about the forty-two guys."

"Well, this guy Richie I know asked me to. He said it would turn him on really well if I sucked off every kid in the neighborhood . . . "

"How old were you at the time?"

"Thirteen." I motioned for her to continue her sex story. I was getting hotter just hearing it, although I couldn't quite yet get my mind around forty-two men using her mouth. That's a lot of cum.

"Well, it was a Sunday afternoon, around noon, and I showed up at Richie's house. I got into a car with five guys and we joined a bunch of other cars and went upstate. It was like a parade and the trip took almost an hour. They all parked their cars in a big meadow--oh, there were eight cars--and Richie told me to sit on a dead tree stump. That's it! I then blew 'em one after the other, and we left and went home." That's it! Just as simple as that, Jack. I blew 'em and went home!

"Did you like doing them all?" She nodded, seemingly bored. I wasn't.

"Did Richie have you do it again?" I had to know.

"Yeah, dozens of times. But it never went beyond forty-two."

"How do you know that?" I just had to know this one.

"I keep track in my head as I suck them." Great, she can do mental math!

"What's the biggest cock you ever sucked?"

"I dunno. Eleven inches, I think." Almost a footer.

"You deep throat?"

"Yeah! Wanna see?" Her face had brightened up. She was eager to do me.

"Later. Tell me, what's the weirdest place you ever sucked a guy?"

She thought a bit. "In church, I guess." Then, before I could ask her who, she added, as if asking about the rules covering weird places, "Does a cab count?" I nodded and she said, "Then in a few cabs, too."

"Whom did you blow in church? Richie?"

"No. The priest, Father O'Reilly." Then, as an afterthought, she said, "Oh, and my brother, Frank, but only once." Of course! Who else ya gonna blow in church beside the priest and a family member?

"But you sucked off the priest more than once?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, he wanted it once a week." Sundays, I assumed.

Well, I had her blow me, and she was quite good at it, deep throat and all, and I came a hot, large load in her mouth, which she didn't hesitate to swallow. I pictured forty-two such loads being swallowed by her in one outing. Staggering! I later did the simple math. If each guy came the usual one teaspoon, that meant 42 teaspoons. Divided by 3 equaled 14 ounces. This translated to 1-3/4 cups of male cum. Sheesh! Two ounces short of a full pint.

Paul came back and Christa surprised me, perhaps us, by saying, "You wanna watch me blow Paul?" I did, and I did.

For a few more years, Christ was my personal cocksucker. And Paul's. We used her at will and, let me tell you, it made those long work days a whole lot easier to swallow, if you get my pun . . .

Fini!

* * * * * * The New Year's Eve bash and crash!

I HAD BEEN INVITED to a New Year's Eve party by a friend of the host and hostess, whom I had never met. But it was a night I'll never forget.

It started normally enough, at 7:00 p.m. with cocktails flowing freely for all. However, the hostess, I'll call her Joan, was nine sheets to the wind when we arrived, and the food, the canapés, had been burnt beyond help.

Joan was tipsily struggling with ham and cheese wedge sandwiches, and having a rough time of it. Her husband, let's call him John, was of no help. He was blotto, too.

Women, most a tad high, rushed in to the kitchen to rescue the hostess. They seemed to be having a hard time just finding utensils, and I could hear constant yelling coming from the room they were in.

Before you know it, with no food in sight, most of the guests were feeling no pain. I know I wasn't. And neither was my friend, Gene, whom I had gotten permission to bring along.

By 10:30, or thereabout, food, of a sort, was served, smorgasbord style. To a bunch of fucking drunks! Who had no inclination to ease up on their imbibing. Or grass, if they were so inclined.

I grabbed a plate of whatever and managed to get a seat at the long dining table. Right next to a luscious looking woman. I remember looking around and seeing that there had to be seventy or eighty people there, with most of them sitting on folding chairs.

Then things got crazier and crazier, as if we were all inmates in the nuthouse. Joan put her elbow in the potato salad, and laughed her ass off at it. John stood up, took his cock out, and stirred some woman's drink with it. This brought forth great raucous laughter from his end of the long table.

Somebody threw butter across the table instead of passing it. I overheard Gene telling the hostess he had a nine-inch dick. She was giggling at him, and looked wild and demented. Some guy, not too far from me, and as flaming gay as they come, was going on about how well dogs fucked, and what fun it was to suck them off. The couple he was regaling was nodding their heads like bobble-dolls.

I felt the woman next to me, a quite attractive gal in her mid-forties, grab my crotch and go exploring. I let her, being the gent I can be at times.

I saw Gene stick his tongue into Joan's ear. I saw her husband whispering something obviously very funny into a women's ear. She was laughing uncontrollably at his wit.

I should mention here that their Christmas tree was still up. But it wouldn't be for too much longer. Gene saw to that.

Then, as we all drank, smoked weed, and nibbled on what food there was, it got even crazier. Gene had his cock out and Joan was bent over in her chair, slurping on it. Her husband was sucking a woman's half exposed tits, a different woman than the one he had whispered his joke to.

Then, as if the room had suddenly gotten too hot, people started shedding clothing with silly glee. I was now kissing the groping, exploring babe next to me, and was also feeling her up. I helped her undress, right there; all but her bra and panties, and led her upstairs in search of a bedroom.

But I'll be damned; all three upstairs bedrooms had people in them, lots of people. All naked and doing naughty things to each other. The smell of sex permeated the entire house, but especially that upper floor. It was, I'll admit, my first real orgy. A drunken orgy, to boot.

I took her back to a small alcove we had passed before. I had noticed it had a tiny sofa in it. That, I felt, would do the trick. I was horny and drunk and high, and wasn't sure if I would even enjoy it, but I was spurred on by the night's events. And the way the gal I was with kissed. Hot and passionate, with lips to fall into.

As we entered the alcove, I noticed, through its large opening, we overlooked the Christmas tree, which stood much higher than we were, even higher than the alcove's ceiling.

She took off her panties, but when I went to help her with the bra, she pushed my hands away. This cross signal confused me, so I told her if she didn't want have sex, we didn't have to do it. Talk was fine with me. And it really was.

"I've had a double mastectomy,” she explained, looking guilty. I told her I understood and, if she felt like removing the bra anyway, it would be okay with me. It may sound lame, even phony to you, but I told her, "I'm an artist, and find beauty in everything. Two tits, one tit, no tits, don’t matter to me. You're still a beautiful creature as far as I'm concerned." And I didn't even know the creature's name yet.

Inspired by my words, I guess, she removed the bra and I kissed her flattened chest numerous times. The way she held my head, I felt absolutely fantastic. We had crossed some invisible line and it felt just great to me.

We kissed and petted for a long time, standing there, but finally made it over to the small sofa. We hadn't been fucking for two minutes when Gene and Joan came waltzing in, laughing and carrying on. They were both bare-assed, and I noticed that someone, probably Joan, had tied a large, red Christmas bow around his fat cock. The two forked side points hung down to almost his knees. He looked goofy, high, and happy.

Joan told me my date's name by saying to her, "When you're done with that one, Carol, here's another present for you to open." She laughed and grabbed Gene's cock, and wobbled it around. Gene still looked dopey.

He started toward the sofa, Joan going along with him, his cock still in her hand, and looked as if he wanted to give Carol his present right then and there. Joan, for whatever reason, yanked hard on his dick, causing him to spin around. He teetered for a second, and then started stumbling backwards, his arms pinwheeling, right toward us.

I tried to catch him, but I was too slow. He was moving too quickly, his arms flailing out in all direction, causing me to duck. One of his calves hit the bottom of the sofa, spinning him around, and he flew up in the air as if he didn't weigh a thing. Missing Carol's head by inches, he flew right out the alcove's opening and landed on the tree. We all gasped. I least I know I did.

There was Gene, clinging nakedly to the large tree. With no way down and no way up. In panic, I hollered, stupidly, "Don't move around, Gene, you could get electrocuted!" Then I yelled to the crowd down below, a mass of drunks, who were all shocked to silence by the scene, "Hey! Someone! Turn off the tree lights!" No one moved, not a one of them. I don't know why. Perhaps they were more amused than afraid for his safety.

I looked at Gene. He was as still as you can get, and clinging for dear life. And he had a long, piney branch springing out between his legs, just below his ass cheeks. It looked as if he had shit it out in panic and fear!

I couldn't help myself. Blame the grass. The sight was too funny for words. It was the first time, and still the last time, I saw a naked man in a Christmas tree shitting pine branches. I started laughing, and pointed it out to Joan and Carol, complete with a description of what I was seeing.

They roared at the sight. Then I heard loud laughter coming from the lower room. I guessed they had heard my description, too. Poor Gene, he just hung there, afraid to move, as if he was someone's demented idea of a new kind of human ornament.

I said to him, "Gene, hang in there!" A new round of laughter broke out, both from the drunks below, and from us drunks in the alcove. Gene said something, but I couldn't hear him over the din.

Someone from below then yelled up to us, "Hey, Joan, you sure know how to decorate a tree!" More laughter. Poor Gene. He wiggled his ass a bit, as if the pine branch between his legs was now getting to be extra annoying.

Someone else shouted, a woman, "Yeah, Joan, with such nice big balls on it, too!" More laughter. Poor Gene, who was now yelling out one cuss word after another. I felt sorry for him, knowing how I would feel in the situation, but I couldn't stop laughing. I tried, real hard, but even a quick glance at him sent me over the edge.

I yelled down for someone to go and find a ladder. Joan hollered out that it was in a locked shed. She'd be right down.

Gene, cursing so loudly I doubt he heard the latest rescue plan, had a better idea. I watched as he, in slow motion it seemed, made a valiant effort to jump free of the tree. When I saw him start to leave the tree, my heart stopped. It was a good ten-foot drop to the floor.

He might have made it, too, if his leg hadn't gotten tangled in the very branch that had sprung out of his ass. Instead of clearing the tree, he took a nose-dive right into its middle, and let out a blood-curdling scream.

It looked, from where I stood, as if the big tree had eaten him. All I could see was his upside-down legs. The piney fir branches had swallowed up the rest of him.

People gasped and yelled out various things. Then the tree's lights went out, as if something had shorted them. Everyone knew what the something had to be. I looked on in horror. The room below, having been lit only by the tree, now looked dark and eerie, almost sinister looking. People milled around like shadowy, faceless creatures in a movie about hell. And no one spoke, making it all the more surreal, and very dreamlike . . .