DOGGY STYLE! LITTER-ALLY!

Oops! I shouldn't have thought that! Here comes Nick and Clara! Entering stage right, in the buff, and holding hands. They gaily skip onto the stage, like kids, her tits jiggling and swaying, his cock jutting out, cutting through the air like a meaty saber, and his big, hairy balls bouncing all around, slapping themselves loudly against his legs. Go away, you two, can't you see I'm busy? They ignored me, right there in my very own mind.

Nick lifted Clara up and, with an expertise that comes from years of practice, impaled her cunt on his mighty dick. Her arms were around his thick, muscular neck, and she looked demented with lust.

I stirred the Bloody Mary with my finger, lifted the glass, took a big sip, and watched them perform their lewd act. Nick turned to his left a bit, showing her ass fully to me. He smiled at me. He had her firmly by the ass cheeks and was raising and lowering her with apparent ease, as if she weighed no more than air.

"Like what you see, Arthur?" Nick said, looking directly at me, and moving Clara up and down on his pussy-stretching shaft. "Clara rides my big, fat prick very well, don't you think?" I stared at him over the rim of the glass, and nodded. It was true. She did. In spite of the fact that his cock looked, as it sawed in an out of her, as if it was trying to cut her in two and, in my opinion, it might very well succeed in the task.

I now stared at her pussy and saw her pubic hairs surrounding his cock's wide girth, to the point where I couldn't distinguish her hairs from his, except when she was at the shaft's uppermost positions. In those positions, her pussy reminded me of a strange, hairy mouth, a large, inhuman hairy mouth that was sucking him off. And enjoying it immensely.

Just as the hairy mouth reached the cock's ridged flange, it would swoop downward, seemingly unaided by Nick, and deep throat him, all the way down to his balls. It was so fascinating.

Her back to me, Clara said, "You like watching us fuck, Arthur?" I nodded, but then realized she couldn't see me, so I said, out loud, "Oh, yes, Clara, very much!"

She threw her head back and laughed. Then she screamed. "Oooooh, Nick, I'm going to cum! Oh, yeah, oh god, here I go, right now. Oh, darling Nicky, oh yeah, oh God, oh yeah, oh yeah! You hearing me, Arthur?" I nodded, not caring to voice a yes.

Her whole body trembled violently, and then she said, "Oh, Nicky, no one, absolutely no one, makes me cum the way you do. I love you, darling, with all my heart and soul. You hear that, Arthur?" I ignored the bitch by not even nodding.

She then squeezed her arms around his neck tightly, and kissed him, a fierce, passionate kiss, a kiss reserved only for the truest of lovers.

I hated Nick. For fucking Clara as only he could, and for giving me a roaring erection. I unzipped and fished out my hard, erect cock. I watched them, knowing that although I was their prisoner, and their captive audience, they were also mine, and couldn't leave the stage until my orgasm gave them permission to do so. We had a symbiotic relationship, if nothing else.

As I stroked my cock, feeling a soreness in it, I watched as Nick lowered Clara to the floor and said, in that super manly voice of his, "Now, darling, suck and clean all your cunt juices from off my magnificent prick and, when you've finished, I want to cum in your mouth." She obeyed, and before you could say squat, she had his cock in her mouth and was bathing it with her saliva, sucking it clean.

Nick said, "Her mouth's talents know no bounds, eh, Art?" I nodded, dopey-like.

Then, feeling a sensation that signaled I could cum soon, I fast-forwarded the scene a tad. Nick's big, hairy cock, with the cum-laden hairy balls, was unloading a huge amount of cum; I imagined at least a gallon, into Clara's eager, talented-without-no-bounds mouth.

She was sputtering, her cheeks puffing in and out, bellows-like, as she swallowed as much as she could handle, with much of the gallon escaping past her lips, and waterfalling down onto her knees, and the wooden boards of the stage, creating a large puddle of his cum.

Nick pulled his cock out of her and finished his superhuman cum deluge on her face. In a trice, Clara's face, neck, and shoulders, was awash in his sticky sperm. I watched as gravity made lots of it cascade down onto her tits, dripping then onto her belly, and finally finding the hidey-hole between her legs.

Bingo! It's my turn, Nick. With my eyes closed, and a feeling of utter bliss all through me, I shot my load . . . I know not where. When drained, I opened my eyes and discovered that the "where" was the surface of my Bloody Mary concoction.

My white cum stood out starkly from its vegetable juice background, and floated on it, with a billion sperm undoubtedly drowning in the mixture and, also undoubtedly--and given their almost nonexistent weight--getting rip-roaring drunk on Vodka. "Belly up to the bar, boys, it's your last day on earth." I had whispered this, for some strange reason, hoping it had escaped Portal's ears. I didn’t think of the fact that he had no ears to hear with.

"Waste not, want not." I said out loud. I grabbed a swizzle stick, stirred the new mix fully, and took a sip. Amazingly, I had discovered a new use for cum! It didn't taste bad at all. It was as if I had merely added some salty onions to the drink. Celery, eat ya heart out!

I looked at the talking door. "Cheers, Portal, old thing." I took a long swig, and swallowed. The aftertaste reminded me that cum wasn't that easily cut. I could taste its sting in the back of my throat with each and every new swallow of my saliva.

I looked at the acting stage in my mind. Nick and Clara were gone, resting no doubt, from their recent sexcapades. Good! They might have said something truly embarrassing to me about my new sperm-loaded drink discovery, which, on the sperm of the moment, ha ha, I had decided to call a Cummy Clara! Do newly invented drinks, I mused, need to be patented? Or do the inventors merely rejoice in their silent, anonymous fame? I had no idea.

"Hey, Harry," I said out loud for Portal's amusement, "There's nothing like a Cummy Clara, buddy, to cure a hangover, you know what I mean?" Then, using a British accent for Harry, I said, "Bob's your uncle, guv'nor, and that bleedin' strange, oniony aftertaste gives you an instant erect. Me wife's taken to making 'em for me every night now! Cheers for Cummy Clara, mate." I giggled like a schoolgirl at my drollery.

Then I heard from Portal. He was, at last, awake. Or do doors, like sharks, never need sleep?

"You're a pip, Arthur, a real pip. An insane pip, to be sure, but a lovable one, too. Good morning, Arthur, did you sleep well? Or did having your clothes on give you that icky feeling we doors never need to experience?"

"Icky, but good morning to you, too, Portal." I lifted my drink and toasted him.

"Oh, well, C'est la vie! as French doors like to say. But we have more important matters to discuss. Your Nick and Clara dilemma. Ready for my advice?" I nodded, with great anticipation coming over me.

"It's simple, old pip. You've got to kill Nick, before these shenanigans kill you!"

I was stunned. I had expected something with more, shall we say, deep insight in it, something with ageless wisdom behind it. What did Portal have in mind next? Hiring a hit man? Wiring Nick's car with explosives?

I glared at Portal. "That's crazy, and out of the question. Even if I knew it would work, and I would get away with it, and Clara would be all mine, there's no fucking way I can kill anybody. My mother didn't raise me that way. Shit, Portal, even my father was against killing . . . of any kind." I glared at Portal. "He thought hunting for sport was barbaric.

"He hated the fact that we had to kill chickens in order to eat them. He felt God has gotten it all wrong when it came to chickens. They should be, my father would say, like peaches, unfeeling and edible. Grown in chicken orchards, and picked at their ripest and plumpest. Or, he would also say, chickens should have the magical ability to be eaten, but immediately reappear, alive and well, pecking away and no worse for the wear." I took a deep breath before plunging on.

"So, Portal, killing Nick is out!" I could swear I saw portal tremble, as if in anger at my poo-pooing his wonderful suggestion. To lighten the atmosphere somewhat, I said, quite jovially I thought, "Hey, Portal, don't go getting unhinged on me!"

This had me laughing so hard my chest ached. I struggled to speak, and finally managed, "Any other bright ideas?" Clutching my chest, I stared at him.

"Yeah, pippy . . . if you won't kill nick, then go and kill Clara!" Doors named Portal, it appeared, are not the brightest bulbs in the package. So much for a door opening and leading to great wisdom.

"Listen, Portal," I said, as if speaking to a child. "If I won't kill nick, why the fuck do you think I'd up and kill Clara? Didn't you hear me when I mentioned my father and his chicken story? For crissakes, Portal, get it through your plywood head . . . I'm not a killer . . . I don't do murder!" That told him, I felt.

"Yes, you are, Arthur. I saw you kill a billion or so of your living sperm, and then, most cannibally I thought, drink them down, as if they mattered for nothing at all. And then, you hypocrite, you relished the salty onion taste left behind by their little corpses! And I'm sure your mother didn't raise you that way. Or did she?" He sounded too fucking smug, if you ask me.

But shit! He had me there. I didn't know what to say, or how to answer him. How do you explain to a door that sperm is expendable? And how do I tell Portal that billions, trillions, and even gazillions, are killed every day as a matter of course? That it's not murder, its . . . it's . . . what? I couldn't find the word with my fuzzy, boozed-up, and hung over brain.

Portal said, viciously almost, "Even your lovely Clara is a cannibal! Tell me, if you can, old chum, how many live spermatozoa has she swallowed in her lifetime, eh?" I immediately pictured Clara's mouth puffing in and out as she swallowed Nick's copious discharge. Zincadrillions? Kerzillions? We would need to coin a new word for the infinite count.

"Listen, Portal, that's different. It's not considered murder to knock off sperm. Think of it more like . . . uh . . . oh . . . a sacrifice! Yeah, that's it! Sperm willingly sacrifice themselves, quite altruistically I should add . . . so we men can have some pleasure." I was warming up to it now, ready to teach the door all about it.

"You see, Portal, sperms get bored just hanging around waiting for a shot at getting a woman pregnant. Bored silly! And, because each and every one of them little critters knows only one will make it to the female's egg, they figure, what the hell, might as well make my man happy." It sounded good to me. But to Portal?

"Gee, Arthur, I had no idea. Please accept my most humble apology. I am truly sorry I misjudged you. And Clara, too. I know now it's not murder, it's love." Whew! Am I good at bullshit, or am I good at bullshit?

"Apology accepted, Portal. Now, what can I do about my problem?"

Portal thought for a moment, then said, excitedly, "I know! I'll hypnotize you, and make you forget all about your insane obsession. It'll be fun, too. What say you, Arthur? You game?"

I told Portal I was game, and up for it. What the hell, went my reasoning. I had to do something. And, who knows? It just might work, however foolish I now felt even thinking about it. I took a long swig of Cummy Clara and sat down on the couch. Then looked over at Portal, my new door friend.

Portal seemed to sway from side to side, hypnotically, his hinges gently squeaking. "Now, Arthur, your eyelids are becoming very heavy. You can't keep them up. They're closing. And, you're feeling very, very sleepy . . . "

* * * * * *

I AWOKE the next day and felt more refreshed than I had in ages. I glanced at the bedside clock. Holy Moley, I had slept fifteen hours straight!

I showered quickly, put on my favorite robe, a ten-year old terry cloth, and briskly walked to the kitchen for some coffee. I walked on buoyant legs, with a spring in them, and a lightness all through me that bordered on the mystical. I felt, if challenged, I could walk on water.

I tried to get Portal's attention by humming loudly, but he was either asleep or ignoring me. Oh, well, I finally said to myself, when he comes around, he comes around. And, if he never spoke to me again, well, that too was fine with me. Especially with the wonderful way I was feeling today.

Thinking of Portal now, I realized I couldn't remember the last time we had talked to each other. Was it just yesterday? Last night? I couldn't remember, and it frustrated me. Because it seemed somehow important that I remember. But, at the same time, it seemed okay to forget, as if someone had given me permission to do so.

However, try as I might, the only words I could remember coming out of Portal, and possiblly the last words he had uttered to me, now sounded inane to me, as if spoken by a linguistic pedant. "You will never remember the things I now tell you to always forget!"

The sentence seemed idiotic to me, and unnecessarily drawn out. Like taking a ten block roundabout trip just to go one block. It also vaguely reminded me of the childish lunacy in Alice in Wonderland, but I didn't know why. I did know, however, that thinking hard was giving me a headache. So, before I let it spoil my thus far nice day, I switched my attention back to fixing the coffee.

The coffee, for a change, was perfect. Its usual bitter taste was absent. Even the sugar in it tasted special, as if the absolute correct amount had been used. I drank it with relish and gusto. I was alive, and feeling absolutely wonderful and grateful to be so.

Then my doorbell rang, its chimes sounding strangely beautiful to me. Ding-dong, ding-dong-ding! I purposely ignored it, hoping it would repeat itself for my benefit. I wasn't to be disappointed. Ding-dong, ding-dong-ding! I waited even more. Ding-dong, ding-dong-ding! How lovely they sounded, like the tinkle of Tibetan temple bells.

"Coming," I yelled out on my way to the door. I threw it open, and there she was, whoever she was. She was so beautiful, I totally forgot I had my hand on a door named Portal.

"Geezy peezy, Arthur, I thought you'd died!" She kissed me lightly on the lips and pushed past me, as if she had done this many times before. I went along with what I now considered to be a joke. No doubt one sprung on me by Portal, that playful, frisky pixie. Besides, the strange woman was delighting me in just looking at her.

She said, "Arthur, can we talk . . . ?" She reminded me of Joan Rivers.

"Later!" I snarled, feeling the new me take hold. I then reached out and took her into my new, bold-as-brass confident arms. I then got even bolder, inspired by her lack of resistance to me.

"Kiss me!" I said to her, half expecting a slap across my puss. Instead, she put her arms around my neck, and planted a good one on me. A good juicy one, with her tongue playfully teasing mine. A good kisser, I thought, even if she turns out to be Joan Rivers.

She broke the kiss, but left her arms around my neck. She looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Whew, Arthur, I take it you missed me!" Well, I miss . . . "

To shut her up, I kissed her again. Then I heard the lovely creature moan, obviously enthralled with my fantastic kiss. "Mmmm!" So I kept kissing her. At one point, she broke from the kiss and said, "Your hair smells nice." I had no idea what she meant by the remark, so I kissed her again.

I felt my now erect cock's head hurting itself against the robe's rough terry cloth interior. I tugged at the robe's belt, pulled it away, and felt the robe part, exposing my naked front to her. Sensing my action, she put a hand down and found my cock. She squeezed it a few times, and moaned again. Whoever she was, I had no doubts that I would fuck her. But first things first . . .
"On your knees, love!" I commanded, feeling like a new man all over. She obeyed, without even the slightest of protest.

"Now, suck me off, woman!" The woman did and, in minutes, I came in her mouth. I then instructed her to clean all her cunt juices from my prick. She did, and I was impressed by her devotion to the task.

"Now, cunt, let's fuck!" The word cunt put a sour look on her face, but I didn't care. She seemed the willing sex slave, and that's all that mattered to the new me at the moment.

I fucked her, but with an animalistic passion I felt she had never known in her entire life. I was, if I may say so myself, absolutely magnificent. I pounded her ass into the bed, making the bed squeak loudly in protest. Then, just when she might suspect I was going to tire, I let the dogs out!

I hammered her. I rag-doll fucked her. I pummeled her pussy so hard; I thought the bed would collapse. Squeak, squeak, squeak! She moaned and yelled. I moaned and yelled. I sweated profusely.

I was giving her the fuck of her life. Using a new dick on her that was beyond magnificent, it was mystical and godlike. And long, and fat, and thick, and as hard as tungsten steel.

Then I yelled, magnificently, and at the top of my lungs, "Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm cumming, baby, hold still and take me! Oh, God! Oh, God! Now! It's cumming now! Can you feel it? Oh, God!" And I heard her say, quite clearly, unlike some men, that she could feel me cumming, and she enjoyed saying it so much, she said it again.

Then I collapsed upon her, my sweat splushing between us. I then kissed her, passionately, the way true lovers do, and then crawled up beside her and cuddled her to my sweaty, hot body.
As she snuggled sweetly into my arms, I asked her to tell me her name. She sat up, rigidly, and looked right at me. A look of puzzlement and anger on her face.

"My name? My name? Arthur, what the hell's wrong with you? You've been acting weird ever since I got here. And what's with all that 'Oh, God, I'm cumming, baby!' crap you were yelling out? In a deep voice that sounded just like Nick." She grabbed a breath before going on. The puzzled look had left her face, but the look of anger remained. "I don't get it, Arthur.You'd think seven years together would count for something, and you'd be eager for us to talk. But, no, all you wanted to do was practically rape me the instant I walked through the door, without even so much as a 'How ya been, Clara? Long time no see.' What's wrong with you, Arthur? Huh? What the fuck's wrong with you?" She was glaring at me now.

I looked at her, this Clara woman, but I was unable to speak. It was obvious she knew me, and very well, and I should have known her, too, but for the life of me, I had no idea who she was. She didn't seem even slightly familiar to me.

Staring back at her now, I racked my brain for even a shred of a glimmer of recognition for her, but I found none there. Clara was as unknown and as alien to me as a visitor from outer space. The only name I could muster up from my memory banks, the only name I could even hazily remember, was one called Portal . . .

The End.
"From my mind, to your mind!"