"Oh, no, Lana, none of those. You dress . . . uh . . . like a . . . like a . . .
a film star. Yeah, an actress, a gorgeous actress, like . . . uh . . . like Angelina
Jolie. Sexy, but very sotiscaphated . . . I mean sophisticated." She laughed
to herself. Sotiscaphated! She decided to really push the envelope. By really boggling his mind. And by giving dear old neighbor Ken something to really chew on. "Well, Laura and I are different, Ken, but in a way you couldn't possibly know. I shouldn't tell you this, just meeting you and all, but my psychiatrist says it's healthy to do just that. So, here goes. Ken. Laura has escaped our genetic curse, Ken, which runs in many of the females in our family, but I haven't." She paused, making him wait. He looked all ears. "I came here to see if Laura could help me overcome it, her being so sweet and innocent and all." She stopped again, keeping him on the line. Not taking his eyes off her, he removed his key from the lock. She noticed his hand shook as he tried to find the pocket's opening in his trousers. "You see, Ken, I suffer from severe . . . nymphomania. That's right, severe nymphomania. I need a man twenty-four hours a day, Ken, just to feel anywhere near close to normal. Understand?" Oh, what fucking fun! His eyes were now as big as the proverbial dinner plates. He nodded, and his head looked as if it was ready to fall off his neck. "Geez, Lana, that's a shame. I think. But you're right, if anyone can help you, it's Laura. She's just the opposite of . . . oops! . . . sorry." "Don't sweat it, Ken. I take no offense. I'm used to it by now. But you might also be able to help me." She let it hang there, very pregnant like. "H-How could I pissobly . . . er . . . possibly help you?" He looked as if his mind was churning away a mile a minute on the possibilities. She thought: Pissobly! How cute. His mind is sure below the waist! A Freudian slip if ever there was one. "Well, my shrink told me that the best way to kick a bad habit is to be weaned off it gradually." What fun! "He said if I could find a willing man, one who understood the situation fully, and wasn't looking for any romantic entanglement, a man who could have sex with me just to help me, well, I'd recover more quickly." She grinned at him, with the implied offer on the loose. Oh, what a ball! What a fucking ball. "You saying it would help you mentally if I had sex with you?" His upper lip was now covered in perspiration. "Exactly, and Immensely!" She smiled at him. Sweetly. "Sheesh, Lana, I don't know. I've never had an . . . " Mrs. Goldsmith came out of her apartment, a trash bag in her hand. She was on her way to the incinerator room. Ken opened his door, and said, "Listen, Lana, let's not talk out here. Come inside, and we can discuss it some more." He held the door open for her. As she entered, she thought: Well, he hasn't said no just yet. Now let's see if I can get this big doofus to say yes! Let's see if it's a pissobolity! She laughed in her head. Inside, and with her back to him, and hearing him shut the door, she walked over to his glass-covered coffee table, seductively wiggled her ass on the short trip, and bent over, knowing the raised mini-skirt was giving him a good view of her panties. The white, see-thru panties that let her bush show through. She reached a hand down, and touched the table's surface, and felt the skirt climb up her ass even higher. "My friend, Wilma, has one just like this, Ken. Lovely. Especially the glass top." She ran her fingers over the glass, sensuously, while stalling in this lewd position for his full benefit. She could hear him breathing, and heavily, it seemed. He said, "C-Can I make you . . . uh . . . would you like a drink, Lana?" She took advantage of his new Freudian slip. With her ass still aimed his way, she said, "Can you make me, Ken? Of course! If you have some red Burgundy wine." Oh, how playful she was being. "I come cheap, every time I come!" She had said the word as if it was spelled cee--you--em. She heard him take a breath in. She straightened up, and turned toward him, a lascivious smile on her face. He said, "R-Red burgundy! That's Laura's favorite. But I guess you know that already." "No, I didn't. But how about that? Where somewhat alike after all, she and I. Now if I can get her to wear mini-skirts, we'd be two peas on a pod!" She laughed. "Good luck with that, Lana. She's not the mini-skirt type. And I don't know why not. I've seen her in shorts, and she has some dynamite legs on her. Oh, well, different strokes, and all." He fixed the drinks, making a Scotch and soda for himself. He offered a toast. "Well, Lana, cheers, and here's to your success." He held his glass out toward her. She said, quite softly, with her wine glass poised in mid-air, "My success, Ken, will come to me tonight if you help me by . . . fucking the bejabbers out of me!" She clinked his glass. And, as she took a sip, she heard him audibly gulp. What fun. He took a sip of his Scotch, and said, looking at her over the rim of his glass, "God, Lana, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" His ears were red again. And he had just given her more verbal ammunition. "Me beat around the bush? Don't you get it, Ken? I want you to beat around the bush, my bush. And you would be helping me with my mental problem at the same time." She paused and glared at him. "For if I don't get fucked, and real soon, Ken, I'm gonna take off all my clothes, run into the street, and fuck the eyeballs out of the first man I meet." Or, she thought, run back over to Spike's place. For her panties were now soaked through and through. She tacked on, "And it will be all your fault, Ken." She crossed her arms in front of herself, with the wine glass spilling a drop in the doing, and put a hurt look on her face. He just stood there for a moment, frozen, just staring at her, and then said, "Lordy, lordy, lordy, Lana, this is all so freaky. So unreal. I don't know what to say. You wouldn't really run out in the street and . . . " "I wouldn't?" She reached up with her free hand, and undid the top button of the thin blouse. "Wanna see me do just that, Kenny, old chum?" She quickly popped a second button, then a third. He had an amazed look on his face. She hoped she had seemed maniacal enough in her actions, and how a proper nympho in heat would act. "Whoa, Lana. I believe you! Listen, if it would help . . . " "Oh, it would, Ken, it would." Momma, she thought, he's going to do it! "Well, okay then, but Laura's not to know about it. Agreed?" "Don't worry about that, Ken, I'd be the last person in the world to tell her." Ken nodded, threw a hand out in space, and pointed its forefinger toward the bedroom. "Shall we?" Without a word, she walked past him. Ken, you big phony, she thought, you must think I'm blind. Did you think that big tent in your trousers could escape the lurid eagle eyes of old Lana Lick? That wanton whore who now rules the night? Just you wait, Kenny Wenny, until my hot mouth shows you the new trick it learned tonight . . . * * * * * * IN THE BEDROOM, Kenny Wenny became an animal. But not a kind and thoughtful animal. He seemed to have undergone a severe personality change between the living room and the bedroom. And it was one even the slut cunt whore Lana Lick side of Laura didn't exactly like. He fairly ripped the clothes from her body, not seeming to care a damn if they got ripped along the way. He seemed possessed. A Mr. Hyde kind of Kenny. He tore his clothes off, and tossed them in the air willy-nilly, and obviously uncaring as to where they ended up. Then he grabbed her shoulders, quite roughly, and said, "On your knees, slut, and suck my cock." She almost protested something, but his hands were pushing her down. Perhaps, she thought, he's using some weird reverse psychology on me to cure my nympho side. She decided to play along with him. "Now, cunt, suck it, and suck it good!" She obliged him, and tried to let his words turn her on, but he had spat them out at her, which turned her off. She thought of Spike. Spike, fully believing she was a street tramp, had treated her with more respect than Kenny was now, and Kenny believed she was the cousin of his neighbor. It all seemed topsy-turvy to her. She hadn't sucked him but a few minutes before he pulled her to her feet, and dragged her into his bedroom. She stood by the bed, her back to it, and waited for the next surprise. He showed it to her by pressing his right hand to her chest, and pushing her. She fell back onto the bed. "Spread those legs, cunt, and show me what you got for me." As she reluctantly assumed the wanton position, she thought: Christ, he hasn't even kissed me yet! And I don't think he will. She looked at him. What, she wondered, have you done with my Kenny? He joined her on the bed, and his foreplay consisted of mounting her and frantically trying to find her hole with his cock. When he did, he jammed it in so roughly, she yelped. "Ow, that hurts!" He paid her no mind. You motherfucker, she thought, you have all the finesse of a fucking Nazi chatting up a prisoner. But with far less charm, you bastard. He fucked her, if one could call it that, with all the passion of someone doing pushups. Up. Down. Up. Down. Ho hum. Ten more. All the while hurting her with his uncaring, and badly aimed, prick pokes. Mercifully, he didn't last long. And, when he came, the only thing she heard him utter, was, "Ooof!" His pushup work was done. She felt him go flaccid almost immediately, and heard a shloop sound when he withdrew his limp prick from her. It reminded her of someone slurping up a short strand of spaghetti. Then he got off her, but not in a normal way. He hopped off of her, or so it seemed to her, and landed beside the bed. His speedy, precision-like execution reminded her of a gymnast's dismount. As smooth, and as slick as that. She said to herself: That performance gets you a ten, Ken, but your other performance, well . . . He looked down at her. "I'm gonna take a shower. Care to join me?" The way he had said it meant just the opposite of what he had implied. He sure didn't want her to say yes. She knew he was done with her, and it was good riddance time. "Uh, no, Ken, you go ahead. I've got to get over to Laura's, anyway. I'll let myself out. OK?" He nodded, turned, and was soon closing the bathroom door behind himself. She got out of bed, and dressed hurriedly. When she was at the front door, and holding it ajar, she looked back toward the bathroom door. Then she said, in a normal conversational voice, "You dumb fucker, you don't deserve a nice slut cunt whore like Lana Lick!" She exited, and slammed the door behind her. She turned, and saw . . . "Good evening, Mrs. Goldberg, and how are you this fine and lovely evening?" Laura smiled at the woman, who held two trash bags in hand. Mrs. Goldberg stood frozen there, her eyes wide, and her mouth hanging wide open. She then gasped, ducked back into her apartment, slammed the door shut, and let Laura hear four locks being clicked, quite noisily, one after the other . . . * * * * * * THE NEXT DAY, she received an e-mail from Spike. He had used the address she had given him: LWind25@AOL.Com. His message was quite short, but quite to the point: Lana: All set. Tomorrow 7pm. Got you a 6th as a bonus! If you would like 2 more, I can swing it. Let me know by 5pm. Don't forget our deal! OK? See ya gorgeous, Spike She stared at the screen. Then spoke out loud to it, as if she had to hear the words to make them real. "Six men! Eight if I want it! My God! And our deal! He wants his free fuck! Is Spike planning on fucking me before the men arrive, or after? With all of them watching us? Oh, my God! Would some of them later on want to fuck me, too? Probably. Most men can go twice. Oh, my God! Do hookers really do this stuff? They must. Spike seems to be taking it so all in stride, as if it's an ordinary, everyday event. Oh, my God!" She stared at the screen. "Oh, my God!" As she hit Reply, she said, to the air, and one more time, "Oh, my God!" She then typed: Spike: 7p.m. fine. 8 better for me. Haven't forgotten our deal. See you then. Love ya, Lana She had almost typed in Laura from force of habit. Just after hitting the send button, she realized her mistake. Although she hadn't asked him to get the two extra men, she had implied it by leaving off the p.m. after the 8. "Oh, my God!" She moved the mouse, planning on sending him a corrected message, but halted her hand in place. She picked the mouse up, and spoke to it; "I'm being silly, little mousie, if I'm going to be sucking off six men, what's two more? As they say, mousie, the more cock to suck, the merrier. Do you agree?" She nodded the mouse up and down. "Good! I thought you might. And, dear mousie, if they all want to fuck me afterward, so what? I can handle that, can't I?" She nodded the mouse friend again. Then put it back on the desk. They now understood each other a little better . . . * * * * * * LAURA ARRIVED at Spike's place on the dot of seven. The cab ride over had filled her with mind with giddy exhilaration, fearful anticipation, and sexual excitement. It had also filled her panties with oodles of juice. And she was not only ready for anything that might occur, but she had resigned herself to thoroughly enjoying it. All of it, come what may. In her mind, she had spelled come as cee you em. She had changed into her superhero Lana Lick costume at Margo's place. It would keep Ken from bumping into her again. Margo was off somewhere doing what airline personnel do. Some trip to the Bahamas, if she remembered correctly. This time, however, she wore a raincoat over the outfit. The superhero, it seemed, didn't want to be seen in public. The very idea of going through with it had sparked her mind, and inflamed it with intense sexual heat. Eight men! It was all so depraved, so lewd and lascivious, so taboo, so slutty and wanton, and so unlike the real her, the mousy her, the woman who would never have gotten into Ken's bed playing it the way she had played it. For whatever that was now worth. In spite of his idiotic performance, Ken had gone ga-ga over Lana, the slut cunt whore nympho Lana, and had no idea he had been having sex with the mouse next door. Boy, she thought, if he could only see me in action tonight! Shit, he'd see the mouse that roared! Ha ha! While she swallows the cum from eight men. And fucks any one of them who needed fucking. Yeah, Kenny Wenny, you'd have a heart attack watching the little mouse with all the big bad, horny wolves. So, Kenny Wenny, go take another shower. Spike, in just a robe, ushered her in, and immediately dispelled any question about when he would be fucking her. "The rest of the guys, Lana, all eight of 'em by the way, will be here around eight, so we have a good hour to ourselves." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, as any uncle might. Then he said, quite gleefully, "Let's get naked!" She liked Spike's bluntness, and it made her feel a tingling thrill shoot up along her back, and then center itself on the back of her neck. Bathing in the aftermath of the thrill, she removed her clothing, down to bra and panties. She now stood there, waiting for him to do the thing he liked to do. And Kenny? Go fuck yourself! "Geez, Lana, you're even more beautiful than I remembered. And if I weren’t old enough to be your father, I'd fall head over heels in love with you. And I wouldn't care who else you fucked, as long as you came home to papa." He smirked at her, and then dropped his robe to the floor. She smiled at him. "Oh, papa, what a big daddy you are!" She reached out and fondled his prick, feeling the heat and meatiness of it. And the plump, swollen head. She ran her fingers around the head, exploring its girth and ridge. Spike let out a low moan. "Tell me, Spikey Wikey, just how long is this puppy wuppy, anyway?" She was curious. "Real angry, it hits eight and a half. But wait'll later on. Old Henry's got over twelve hanging off him, and it's bigger than," he lifted her arm up, 'your sweet lovely wrist." He gave the inside of her wrist a kiss. "My God, Spike, he'll choke me to death!" "Nah, baby, you just relax your throat, the way you did with me. You'll see, it won't hurt a bit. If anything, it'll feel great! Does to most women who suck him off, I'll tell you. But, hey, in your trade, don't you run into some pretty big ones?" She lied. "I've only been doing this for a few months now, Spike, but so far I haven't had anything that big. You sure I can swallow him?" She had trouble picturing taking a cock that big down her small throat. He nodded. "Piece of cake. Fucking him is easy, too, all you . . . " "That reminds me, I wanted to ask you if some of them would also want to fuck me. You know, after I blow them?" Might as well know now. "Oh, sure, they'll all want to. Especially old Henry, who, even at his age, can go multiple times in any given night. Pardon my French, but he's a regular fucking cum machine, he is." He paused, and then thought of something. "Why? You got somewhere else to go?" "No, I was just curious, you know. Like to know the program up front and all." My, God, she thought, I am going to suck and fuck eight men, no, make that nine. Spike! "My God! If I wasn't a slut before tonight, I'll sure be one later on. A silly rhyme popped into her head: Lana Lick loves the dick!" Spike, aware of the time, went about doing his favorite things, removing her bra and panties. He kissed her lips, with both their tongues playing with each other, and worked on her breasts, and explored her body all over. Then he was ready. He led her to his bedroom. Sweetly and quietly, and so unlike Ken. I like you, Mr. Spike, she said to herself. She saw that the bed's covers had been removed, and also saw that Spike had placed a pillow in the center of the sheets. She assumed that was for her ass to lie upon. She had once read how it increased the depth a man can reach and hit. This very thought sent a twinge throughout her pussy, and she felt it start to moisten up. Spike got on the bed, and invited her to join him. "Let's 69 for a bit. OK?" He lie on his back, beside the centered pillow, and told her to straddle him, her pussy to his face. She complied, feeling strange inside. It was her first time at 69. But, she reasoned, how hard can it be to do? As she lowered her mouth onto his cock, she could feel his mouth and tongue find her vagina. It felt superhumanly hot to her, especially when his mouth made full contact with her pussy lips. He then licked up and down, and all around, using his tongue to its complete advantage. She removed her mouth from his cock. "Oh, God, Spike, that feels fantastic!" She put her mouth back on him, and wanted to go up and down on it to return the favor, but her mind was addled. That tongue! That marvelous tongue! It seemed to be the only thing she could concentrate on. Its heat, and his movements, was sending out shock waves all through her body, putting her on a plane she had never known before. She removed her mouth again. "Oh, Spike, oh, Spike, I'm about to cum! Oh yes, here I go. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Spike! Oh, God, Ooooooooooh!" She trembled and shivered all over, feeling her mind go blank to everything but the wonderful sensations now coursing through her. And, as her orgasm swamped her, he wouldn't say die. In fact, he speeded up the pace, his mouth and tongue working her over mercilessly, and feverishly. She rode out the mind-boggling orgasm and, as her brain turned to mush, she buried her face into his balls, inhaling rapidly the deep musky odor of him. She then screamed, right into his scrotum, "Lana's a slut cunt whore, Spike, and she loves it!" Then she composed herself a bit, and said, "Spike, if you don't fuck me this instant, I'm gonna tell all the guys tonight that you're a flamin' gay!" She giggled. Spike said, "One fuck comin' up, Ma'am!" She liked that fact that he could joke around during sex. It seemed natural to her. He helped her turn around, and positioned her ass dead center over the pillow. As he mounted her, she reached between them, found his cock, and said, "God, Spike, your cock feels nice. So big and meaty like. Here, let me put you in me." She did. Spike shot a glance at the bedside clock. They had fifteen minutes. He wasn't worried about a time bind. He knew he wouldn't last too long. He had thought about fucking her lovely young body for days now, and just feeling his cock in her hot pussy now told him he was a goner . . . |