Explicit-Novels

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 9

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 06:49:00 +0000

Harvest Boasting

By Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Her Story

(The following story is set in Northeast Louisiana in December 1844, the antebellum South. It is a harvest celebration. The language used is authentically Southern from the time period. All of the characters mentioned herein are between 18 and 21 years of age. This is the first of a series of stories told from both the female and the male perspectives.)

Friday night finally arrived. East Louisianans from far and near showed up for the celebration, some with slaves in tow. The Leone's, the Bannisters, the Greens, the Thompkins, the Jenkins, the Mullins, the Gastons, the Harknesses and a plethora of other farm families showed up along with various riff raff, drunks and drifters looking for a good time. Or a fight. The Harvest Dance attracted attendees from all walks of life.

Annie Leone quickly gathered up her Pussy Posse, Gretchen Thompkins, Mary Lynn and Polly Lynn Bannister, Janice Leone and Jennie Harkness, and set out to flame the neighborhood.

As per usual with such an egalitarian collection of hens, the gossip and the braggadocio superceded all other considerations.

Janice Leone: "Jennie Harkness! You fabulous hussy, you! I hear tell you did it to my brother the other Sunday. In the church basement! He said he made you pee on the floor!"

Jennie Harkness: "If he told you that, he's a lie and the truth ain't in him. I might've did it to him but I ain't peed. I told that melonhead not to say nuttin' about that, anyway. I lay he won't be gettin' nary nuther drop of my pussy, or it'll be 'Katie bar the door!'"

Gretchen Thompkins: "You give Jakie some pussy? I thought you liked Jimmy Gaston?"

Jennie: "Jimmy's too slow. I practically offered it to him and he ain't took the bait. What've I gotta do, hitch my skirt up and cock it up in his face?"

Janice: "Well, you ain't gotta drop no hints with Jake. You could have three pairs of bloomers on and that lunkhead could sniff you out if you crossed your legs in church. He might be quick on the draw, but he knows his cooch."

Polly Lynn Bannister: "Quick on the draw? I hear tell he cain't last a minute. 'Specially if its fresh. Like mine."

Annie Leone: "Did you say fresh? Like your’n? That ain't what Prescott Gaston says."

Polly Lynn: " Prescott Gaston is a lie. I ain't give him none."

Gretchen: "But you said,"

Polly Lynn: "Shut up, Gretch."

Annie: " Prescott says he give you the poke at the Revival meetin'. And he says you is the one that was quick."

Polly Lynn (relenting on her obvious lie): " Prescott said, ? Oh, yeah. I'd forgot about that. Musta didn't make much of a impression. And why are you talkin' to Prescott about me for? What business is it of your'n?"

Annie: "I give him some the other week, that's why. I ain't a-feared to say it. He said he's got a big un, bigger'n a blackie. I wanted to try him out."

(All the girls tittered at this startling admission.)

Polly Lynn: "So you give him some. How'd you know I ain't wanted a follow up? Maybe I had him down as my possible. 'Polly Lynn Gaston.' That sounds good to me."

Annie: "You're saving yourself for my brother Benny and you know it. Your parents and my parents have been tryin' to hook up our boys with you and Mary Lynn for the longest."

Polly Lynn: "Benny is three years younger than me. I ain't studyin' about no Benny."

Jennie (ignoring Polly's second lie): "Was he bigger'n a blackie, Annie?"

Janice: "Yeah, Annie. Give us the details. And why am I only hearing about this now? You bad thing! You was supposed to tell me about this five minutes after it happened!"

Annie: "If I give out the details, we ALL has to pungle, okay? Every slippin' pussy in this room has to 'fess up to something. I know ever' last one of you heffahs is done did sump'n that nobody knows about 'ceptin' you and the dick you had up between your legs. It ain't like we don't know each other. And the stories don't leave this room, like always. Deal?"

She waved her pinky finger in the air to signify absolute confidentiality. All the girls present locked pinky fingers in solemn agreement. These secretive gossip sessions always devolved into pussy measuring contests.

Annie's Story

"Okay, so here's what happened. You know my Pa let me ride with him down to the river when we was totin' the tobacky crop to the boat. It was me and Benny and Abby's husband Buck and two or three other blackies we brung along to do the work. You was there, Jennie. I saw you but you ain't see me. Well, the Gastons was there, too. I seen Prescott with 'em and I figured "Why not?", you know? He's always wearin' those tight work trousers so's girls can see his dick loungin' down his leg. He's real proud of it. So I give him the side-eye and a little hip shimmy. You know how I do. I woulda give him the cheek poke, but I ain't wanted him to think I wanted to suck his dick. I did want to, actually. Who wouldn't? But I ain't wanted him to know it straight off like that. A girl's gotta be what you call "discreet", you know? So I give him the shimmy and I wandered away from my family kinda casual, like, so's no one would notice. I went out behind the slave’s outhouse and I was gonna wait for him there, but it stunk to high heaven and I ain't think I could hold my breath and ride a dick at the same time. So I sneaked off into the woods apiece. I got behind a tree and peeked out. Sure enough, here comes Prescott, like a hound dog on the scent. He seen me and I took off deeper into the woods, with him hot on my trail. I warn't skeered of him. I jist ain't wanted no busy bodies to come sneakin' up and catched us with his dick up my ass. They wouldn't-a said nuthin' 'bout Prescott, of course, but Lawdy, they'd-a said sump'n 'bout me.

"So we run off about a quarter mile or so. Hopped a coupla streams. I looked back and couldn't see Pa or nobody followin' us. I had one 'o them ankle skirts on so the brambles wouldn't scratch me up. So we come to a little clearing next to a pond. So I says to him, I says: "Why are you followin' me, Prescott Gaston? I come out here to pee; I don't know what you thought. An' I ain't a-fixin' to squat an' squirt in front of you." Don't you know he pulled his dick out right there and flumped it up against his leg? Then he took it back in his hand and peed a circle 'round my feet! Told me that if I stepped outside the circle I was a blackie lover. I started to tell him that the onliest reason I give him the shimmy is I heard he had a blackie dick. He woulda liked that. But I ain't actually say it. I jist looked at his dick like it was the purtiest thing I'd seen in a coon's age (they like it when you do that) an' I told him it beat all the blackies I'd seen by a mile. So I swallowed real hard and I asked him if I could touch it. He stepped right 'cross that pee circle and put it dead smack in my hand!

"Soon's I touched it, it got hard. Didn't spill another drop of pee, jist pronged straight up. Boi-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoing! And yeah, he gots a big un. 'Lem inches, if I had to guess. He might have a inch on Benny, maybe two, three inches on Jakie. He ain't no Charlie Nelson, if that's what you want to know. But for a white man he's right up there. And fat? It ain't no word for it. Felt like I was holdin' a oak log. An' I could smell it, too. Smelt like, I dunno how to describe it. You know how a dick smells all sweaty sometimes, musky like a armpit, but you can smell stale old pussy oozin' off of it? An' doodoo, too, because he's been shovin' it up some heffah's poop chute? His dick just smelt used, you know? well used. You want a dick to smell like that mostwise cause it usually means it's broke in good and won't seize up before it can do right by a good piece 'o pussy. You jist don't wanna suck it right off of the bat because it stinks, you know? You wanna grease it up with your own puss before you put it in your mouth, because you don't know where it's been. I dunno. Maybe you might like to suck a un-pussed dick. I like to scrub 'em up in my fur before I'll put my mouth on it. Seasoning, you know. That's just me.

"So what's the first thing he does? He puts both his hands on my shoulders and starts giving me the pressdown! He wants me to bend the knee and slob the knob! So I says to him, I says, "Hold your horses, there, Prescott Gaston! Just 'cause I let you put it in my hand don't mean I'm-a let you put it in my mouth. I dunno what you think this is, but my mouth ain't the place for your stinkin' ole poker.

"So he goes, "Thad Johnson says you sucked his'n." Thad Johnson! (You know they're cousins.) I was so mad! You 'member that time I told y'all I let Thad run his finger up my cooch? Well, his finger was so skinny I figured his dick couldn't a-been much bigger. I even showed him how to run his thumb up my puss and his middle finger up my bunghole simultaneous, but even that didn't do the trick (he had them long fingernails, like a girl, and he scratched me), so when he pulled his dick out I give him the shoulder and I run off. That Thad Johnson. This mug had the nerve to say I sucked his dick!

"So I go, "I ain't never in this life sucked no Thad Johnson's dick. And if you believe his lies you can jist turn around and scooch your swingin' dick right back to camp." See, I knowed he'd already give Polly the full measure from the back. And I figured he'd turn me around and go north in both my "down there" holes, too. I wasn't wearin' any bloomers. All he had to do was lift up my skirt. If he'd-a got past both them steamy pipes, I'd-a blew him, sure. What, is his the first dick I sucked?

"So I stepped right across his little pee fence and started to make my way home. I figured he was gon' call me a blackie lover anyway, and it ain't like none-a us ain't had a blackie dick up in us from time to time. It's just that we has to deny it to our menfolk. So bein' a blackie lover ain't the worst thing in the world, less'n we get big and end up dropping a li'l niglet. You know?

"But danged if my pussy warn't deadset agin the plan! She seen that big ole purple pole and set her mind right then and there! It was like I was walking one way and my pussy was draggin' me backwards so's she could get one ride in, at least! She got to moistin' and drippin'. Ever' step I took jist made me sloshier and sloshier.

"I looked back and he's jist a-standin' there, hands on his hips, dick pronged up in the air like a flagpole. And you know what? I could still smell it! From twenty, thirty feet away! It was like those pies that Ma sets out on the windowsill to cool. It was call’n' me, girls! Seemed like a mist was oozin' off it and draggin' me back by my nostrils. And the worst of it was, He knew it. I could see it in his eyes.

"Finally, I jist slowed down and give up. It warn't no use. My head was a-swimming, all fogged up with dick scent. My pussy was floatin' in juice. We was gon' be down to the boat dock for three days. This might be my onliest chance to cool her off. I stopped dead in my tracks and I stood there. I was fightin' it. Lawd knows I was fightin' it! My mind said to take one more step and get a-goin'. But my legs was locked up. Wouldn't move a tap! Seemed like I stood there for an age.

"It took me awhile but I finally looked back to him. Slowly, I scooched my skirt up to show him my ass. I says to him, "You better come and get it quick afore I change my mind." Did he run over, ass over teakettle, like any man with any sense would-a done? No! He strolled over. Took his time. And girls? His dick ain't wobbled one iota. His body was movin', but his dick homed in on my pussy like it was already attached with a tight rope. Hard ain't the word for it. It was made of stone! Polly ain't lied about that much.

"I only felt the slam when he was all the way in. Then he pulled it out so fast I couldn't get any swirl. He fucked me like I was his dog, 'ceptin' we was standin' up.

"Finally, I couldn't take it no more. He was just humpin' me. Didn't have the decency to give me a reacharound. And my clit's just a-bulgin' out, like Janice's, only not as big.

"So I give him the push, you know, just put my hand against his chest to suggest a drier hole. It was right there. 'N I was ready, too. Did he pay attention to the push? You betchu he didn't. Just kept poundin' away. You cain't be subtle with some blackies. He wasn't pickin' up the clues! So I let him keep on for another minute or two. His eyes was rollin' in his head, but he warn't near 'bout ready to cum.

"So finally I says to him, I says; "Prescott! Put it up my ass. Change up! Jeez!" This seemed to shake him up. I ain't really wanted him to put it up my butt, but sometimes you get so slippery your pussy won't do the trick. Don't act like this is your first time hearing this. I knows you ho's only too well. Anyway, he pulled it out and put it right up to the opening to my doodihole, quick as you please. Slipped it right in! I says to myself, I says: "What the farmer's daughter?", you know, because my cooch is one thing but my ass is another. Ain't nobody slipped up my poop chute that easy. My ass is tight. Anyone'll tell you that much. Those that's been up there'll tell you I can make a pinky finger cum simply by squeezin' my butt cheeks up. And this boy goes all the way up with his knotty pole in one go? Sump'ns wrong right there. And now here he comes with the doggy hump again.

"Well, I was too thru. But what could I do? He had me locked in. Usually it takes some time for a fella to start pile driving me when he goes deep south like that. Prescott ain't missed a beat. He's grippin' me by my hips an' pulling me back an' forth along his pole. He's jist a-slammin' me. I ain't gon' lie, it felt good. I'm thinkin' to myself: "How'd Prescott get this big ole sausage whilst his cousin Thad only gots that dinky pinky?"

(Here Polly interrupted her)

Polly: "I thought you said you ain't never had none-a Thad's dick?"

Annie: "I lied. I give him some just the once. Don't tell Abby. I bet you I won't give him no more. His dick ain't worth a good pussy fart. In fact, if you fart on him with your pussy, he might slip out!"

All the girls guffawed at the mental image this insult evoked. Annie continued:

"Anyway, me and Prescott kept a-goin'. I still had my dress on. My titties was a-floppin' and I got to sweatin' from my forehead an' my armpits. I looked down and I had these great big half-moon sweat stains in my white blouse. You know the ones; all of us has had 'em. But it comes from working 'round the house, you know? How'm I gon' explain these big-ass armpit sweat stains to my Pa? I ain't been out loadin' tobacky. The blackies done that. Of course, my skirt would cover up my puss and the after-drip, but he's gonna wonder what I been doin' that caused my pits to sweat up. It ain't summer time; it's harvest.

"So now I'm trying to come up with a cover story. Meanwhile, Prescott is still rakin' my doodihole over the coals. I'm not payin' much attention 'cause, of course, I'm worryin' about what my Pa is gonna say about these sweat stains. He'll come to his own conclusions and he's prol'ly gon' be right. You don't get sweat stains from goin' out in the woods to pee. You get sweat stains from fuck’n'. My Pa ain't stupid. (Well, he still thinks I'm a virgin. But that don't mean he's stupid. A lotta your Pa's think you ain't fucked nobody, neither, and not one of you heffahs has seen hide nor hair of your pussy cover flap since you was ten years old.)

"All-of-a-sudden, like, Prescott slows down. I almost didn't notice. What I did notice is his dick started gettin' soft. He cum in me! Shot his load, and now he's strugglin' to get it up agin afore I locked it up and pushed him out!

"Now I'm really put out. We'd both got to stay out in the woods until these sweat stains dried. I knew that much. And I ain't cum yet! Long as I ain't bust my nuts, I'm gon' continue to sweat. That's jist natural. I couldn't figure out how long it would take my pits to dry, but I knew I was gon' bust my nuts, sweaty pits or not. And this blackie is strugglin' to keep his dick up!

"I knew it was time for me to take charge. First thing I did was, I hopped my happy hips up off his shriveled old peter rabbit. I was gon' get mine and I ain't needed to sit about and chitchat whilst he got his stremff back.

"Next, I stripped off my blouse and hung it over a tree branch to dry. I stripped off my skirt, too, just in case he shot it up with his nasty jizz. Now I'm a-standing there, buck-nekkid, titties all wagglin' out, doodihole jist a-drippin'. I look over at Prescott. He looks like he jist finished a ten-mile run. He's a-standin' there, hands on his knees, huffin' for air. His dick is hangin' straight down, danglin' like a ribbon in the wind. It warn't near about as hard as it was before it went in. It looked like it was gaspin' for air, too. He gives me a laugh; you know how they'll laugh and try an' play it off when they cum too quick. Like I'm supposed to laugh right along with him. And it's my pussy that's left wantin'.

"I could feel his jizz oozin' out of my ass, drippin' down my thighs. I reached back and scooped up a handful of the stuff an' I flung it into the trees. I flung another handful with my other hand.

"You know how, sometimes, when they cum too quick they'll want to give you the pressdown and make you suck they dicks till it gets hard again? I wasn't havin' that shit. Not tuh-day! No, girls, lemme tell you what I did.

"I says to him, I says, "Git down here. On your back." At first he acted like he wasn't gon' do it. But I give him the stink eye and puffed up my lips real firm so's he knew I meant business. What's he gon' do? He's the one sloppied me up an' ain't waited for me to nut. Like I'm gon' run all the way out in the woods an' come back without gettin' my nuts shriveled up, too? He musta had me confused with somebody else.

"So once I had him splayed out on the ground I stepped up to him real sultry-like. I jist stood there, makin' him wonder what I was gonna do with his floppy dick, if I was gon' do anything at all. Truth is, I ain't had no plans at all for his dick. Chile? I wanted that tongue.

"I stepped across his face an' I lowered my pussy down real slow so he could get a good look and a even better whiff. Lower and lower I went till my pussy was right smack in his face. He closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out.

"Pretty soon he stopped strugglin' and started in to lickin', like I wanted. Back lick, baby! I looked back over my shoulder an' his dick was hard again! Boi-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoing! But I ain't wanted his dick just now. He had his chance. Now I'm givin' him a different chance, and he better not muck it up. Don't you know he firmed his tongue up and ran that mug straight up my poop chute as far as it would go? I clenched on it quick, too quick, and forced it out. Not deliberate, you understand, because it felt good. So I relaxed and let him poke his tongue up there again.

"Don't you wish, sometimes, that they tongues was as long as they dicks? He's got his tongue just inside my rim an' I'm wanting him to go deeper. But his tongue just warn't long enough! It tickled me real good, but I wanted him to pound me with it. Ever' time I got to slammin' his face his tongue slipped out. I ain't liked that at all. So pretty soon I jist settled for the swirl. I rubbed my doodihole round and round 'cross his mouth, real fast like. That felt pretty good. I figured I could cum like that.

"He ain't seemed to mind lickin' up his own jizz, neither. Some of 'em complain about it, but I don't know why. They want us to suck it down like it was mother's milk. But they don't want a'ry bit of it on they own tongues. I firmed my butt cheeks up and squeezed out all the jizz I could. It wasn't no shortage of it, you can bet on that. I don't mind swallowin' jizz. I've gotten used to it. I know some-a you heffahs claim it tastes funny. But if you gulp it down real quick you won't taste nothin'. I'm jist givin' Prescott a taste of his own medicine.

had a 'lem inch dick like Prescot's an' I shoved that mug right down his throat!

"All of a sudden I got this warm feeling, you know, that feeling you get right before you bust a big, steamy nut, all bright and tingly and fuzzy? And his tongue was all the way up my puss an' my clit was throbbin' agains

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 8

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 15 Oct 2026 18:48:00 +0000

Church Lov’n

By Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

“God dammit, Chowlie! Stop Play’n round wid it! Put it in me!”

Miriam Thompkins was too through with Charles Nelson Leone. He was toying with her pussy from behind using the tip of his cock when, by her reckoning, he ought to have been using it as a ramrod.

The two of them had sneaked upstairs to the "segregated" balcony after the conclusion of church services at the Episcopal Church. Scores of parishioners, black and white, were downstairs socializing separately, according to the laws of East Louisiana in 1844. Charlie's friend (and owner) Ben Leone had sneaked off to a basement closet where he'd scheduled a tryst with his cousin Janice. In a different basement closet Jake Leone had Pete Harkness' sister Jennie on tap.

Charlie and Miriam, slaves from different farms, squeezed up into the church bell tower singly after Miriam poked her tongue into her cheek during the service and rolled her eyes skyward to signal a meet. The small room was a tight fit.

Miriam & Charlie.

Miriam's two sisters (the three were triplets) were under strict orders to cover for an absence Miriam estimated would take no more than ten minutes. Church service or no, Miriam's pussy required attention. Charlie happened to be in attendance that Sunday with his mother and siblings. He didn't attend church often. Miriam thought this might be her only chance at him.

Up in the church bell tower, Miriam's skirt was scooched up around her waist. Her rounded, naked ass was on full display. Charlie's cock bulged outwardly from a crease in his rugged pantaloons, twelve inches of solid muscle striving to invest itself of the fragrant crease in Miriam's groin. He gripped his penis by its base as he painted her southern cleft with the aromatic juices oozing from her chocolate vagina, coating his pud in her opulence. His purple-black dick pulsed virulently.

"We ain’t got much time, Chowlie. If I'd knowed you wuz gwine play 'round wid it like some kid, I'd-a axed somebody else!"

"We ain't never did it before, Miri. Dis de fust time! If I jist put it in quick, an cum. Does you wants dat? An' den you-a go back an' tells your sisters I cain't fuck."

"AH' ma do dat anyways, Chollie. What dat got to do wit' you? If I wasn't already ready to fuck, I wouldn't-a axed you to follow me up here! You sees how wet ahm is!"

"You is mighty wet, gal. You blowin' bubbles!" Charlie chuckled.

"Dat’s right, boy. An' you ain't tendin' 'em proper! Put it in, dog gonnit! An' let's finish up before my Ma comes lookin' for me."

She preened upward on her tippy toes to offer him a better angle of insertion. Charlie released his grip on his cock as Miriam's labia gaped open. With the barest trace of a thrust, Charlie's muscular dick disappeared into her hole. Miriam groaned with satisfaction. Her head floated backward onto her shoulder blades as she suppressed a scream of wanton fervor.

"Finally"

She hilted him in one go. When he withdrew, his entire cock was coated in her crystal effervescence, steamy, hot and bubbling. Her pussy dripped with urgency. Charlie plunged forward to tap her cervix again, luxuriating in her heat and the newness of their intercourse. This was always the best time, that first cruise up the slippery pink baby chute of a pretty girl.

Miriam began to tremble. Her muscles stood out in contrast to her normally svelte skin. She hadn't been kidding. She was already on the verge of release not ten seconds in.

"Not yet, Priscilla! Not yet!" Miriam importuned silently.

(Priscilla was the given name of Miriam's pussy. Miriam spoke to Priscilla often as if Priscilla were a real person.)

"This is gonna be quick!" Charlie thought grimly.

He gripped her ass and roiled his dick in conjunction with her increasingly strident pelvic ululations.

In truth, Miriam had been building a foundation for Priscilla's detonation all throughout the church service. Ignoring the sermon, Miriam's mind drifted. She fondly recalled her encounter with Bennett Leone the month before despite feeling hugely put upon by its abrupt conclusion. The details of that tryst were fresh in her mind. Young Master Leone was downstairs just now, sitting in a pew with his family. She could see his unruly shock of rusty red hair from her seat in the balcony.

She remembered how he'd fucked her roughly that night at the swimming hole, slamming his dick the length of her cunt with manly precision as her sisters looked on. He'd fucked Beulah and Dinah, too, before standing up to Priscilla's challenge. Miriam mounted him and gave as good as she'd gotten. Even now she could almost feel Ben's testicles flopping against her taint as she rocked him from her mount atop Chawlie’s purpled cock. They'd assailed each other that night, weaving an intricate web of fuck thunder that served Miriam's masturbatory fantasies for weeks afterward.

"Fuck me! Fuck Me!” she meditated with passion.

It was a good thing that Miriam hadn't given voice to her silent remembrances, lest the church services be disrupted with scandal.

Priscilla heard Miriam's salacious musings, though, and responded accordingly. She gushed alive, overflowing with the aromatic juices of Miriam's private lust.

Miriam anticipated this problem. Some weeks back she'd allowed her attention to wander during church services in much the same manner. The result had been a large, wet stain on the back of her church dress, a wetness that she didn't notice until she returned from her secret world of sexual fantasy. As services concluded she'd immediately employed her sisters to block the view of onlookers while she exited the sanctuary. She'd promptly raced to the first available bench and sat there while the blotch dried.

Miriam had been mortified that day. Her sisters just laughed.

Ever resourceful, Miriam now came to church with a thick cotton pad situated under her dress between Priscilla and her seat. Priscilla could still drip during the sermon, but most of her issue would be sopped up. Only the front of Miriam's bloomers would wetten. This, she thought, was an acceptable compromise, especially insofar as, with proper positioning, that leak wouldn't stain the front of her dress.

Charlie Leone sat with his family in another section of the 'segregation' balcony. He was dressed in his work clothes. He didn't have much else. As Miriam floated at plateau, unable to complete Priscilla's desire with mere remembrance fantasy, Charlie's attention, too, wandered. He peered about the church sleepily, wondering when this dreary 'white folks' sermon would come to an end.

Something unusual caught his eye.

It was Miriam Thompkins. She was gazing intently in his direction, hoping to attract his attention. He saw her, but he didn't see her. It was the cheek poke that disrupted his absent-minded reverie. Had he actually seen that? In church?

Slowly, he allowed his eyes to drift up to hers. Maybe she was just cleaning her teeth. Maybe he'd mistaken her intent. Their eyes met.

There it was again!

Miriam drove her tongue into her left cheek twice to simulate female fellatio. Everybody knew what the cheek poke meant. Charlie met her gaze seeking confirmation. What he received by way of reply was the ‘How many times is I gots to offur before you says yes?’ look. Her non-verbal communication was clear. Miriam followed this with a surreptitious nod to the bell tower upstairs.

A booty call in church! There was pussy in the offing! Charlie's face broadened into a wide grin.

"I gots to start comin' to church mo' often!"

Miriam rolled her eyes.

"It's about time."

She'd been trying to attract his attention for at least a half hour now.

Charlie responded with another cheek poke, a single, into his left cheek. Miriam nodded demurely. The meeting was set.

Of course, Ben had already given Charlie the details of his conquest of the Thompkins triplets. He'd fucked the shit out of all three girls (by his telling) and left them rapturously unconscious at the swimming hole, dripping penis honey from every orifice. And he was going to do it to them again the first chance he got. Did Charlie want in on the action?

What does one say to an offer like that? Charlie accepted.

Miriam's church foray changed things a bit. It bypassed Ben's introduction, cutting out the middleman. Miriam's cheek poke booty call was Charlie's chance to "tap dat ass" on his own terms.

Charlie didn't expect to see Ben after church. He knew that Ben would probably be doin' it to some girl down in the basement. (Ben gave Charlie all those details, too.) Here, now, was a chance for Charlie to surprise Ben with a church fuck story of his own. The chief triplet had actually given him the cheek poke! Charlie's penis stirred.

"How much longer is dis guy gon' preach?!" Charlie wondered with exasperation.

After the final benediction Charlie waited in his seat while his mother, siblings and the other Negroes cleared the balcony. He pretended to get in the line to descend the stairs but he lingered back, allowing anyone and everyone to take his spot in line. He'd already seen Miriam dart behind a column to a hallway leading to the belfry ladder. He kept a sharp eye to see if anyone had noticed her. No one had.

Her two sisters were eyeing him. They obviously knew of Miriam's plans. Charlie gave them a knowing smile.

"I'm gon' fuck yo' sister. I'm gon' fuck de shid owda her."

They seemed to be a bit overly pleased at this unspoken but clearly communicated news. Charlie was a little perplexed. Most girls sneer when another girl's insidious plans come to fruition. Dinah and Beulah seemed positively giddy. Was something going on that he didn't know about? The triplets hadn't given him any indications prior to this. He'd seen them on occasion and come away with not so much as a wink. Charlie became slightly suspicious.

"Sumpn's goin' on."

He waited until the balcony cleared, even deigning to descend the staircase himself before declaring (within earshot of everyone milling about):

"I fo'git my Bible upstairs. Be right back."

No one thought it strange that a black man who couldn't read had brought a Bible to church. Charlie ascended the stairwell two steps at a time. His disappearance was soon forgotten in the jocularity of the after church fellowshipping.

Charlie arrived in the bell tower to find an impatient Miriam Thompkins, arms crossed and feet tapping, after the manner of black women who have something to do and someplace to be and not enough time to do both. She looked past him to see if he'd been followed. Charlie closed the trap door in the floor behind him. Only then did Miriam turn, scooch her dress up and pull her bloomers to the floor. Charlie was taken aback.

"I, I thought you wuz gwine." he stammered.

"You thought I wuz gwine suck yo' dick?" Miriam countered. "We ain't got time fo' dat right now. Take too long. Too many people around. I need you to, you know."

"To what?"

"To fuck me, Chollie. Don't play dumb. Is ah'm wagglin' my tooncey in de air fo' nuttin'?"

"Me? Here?"

"Boy! Is you wants de poosy or ain't you! I can get somebody else."

"I, I" Charlie stammered again.

"You ain't want no poosy. Somebody lied to me."

Miriam reached down and resolutely pulled her bloomers up.

"No, I'll take it. I'll take it!" Charlie assured her.

Miriam stopped re-dressing.

"Well?"

Charlie stepped to her and pulled her bloomers back down. In the process the aroma of her sex became evident. His dick, already prickly with the prospect of penetration, lumbered awake. It found the crease in his pantaloons and peeked out without assistance. Miriam saw it emerge. She gripped his pud, twisted and squeezed. In seconds his cock bloomed erect, pouring forth like a hooded forest cobra.

"Hmm," Miriam observed. "At least dey ain't lie 'bout dat much. You do gots a big un."

"Who is 'dey'?" Charlie asked.

"Niggy, don't axe dumb questions. You see dis?"

(Here she pointed to her pussy with her middle finger.)

"Put, you dick, in ,here! Dass all you needs to know."

She preened up on her toes to expose Priscilla more fully. Charlie could sense the heat emanating from Miriam's hairy babymaker. She didn't appear to require much foreplay.

Priscilla was a snapper.

Ben Does Janice.

Downstairs in the church basement, Bennett Leone was already mounted over Janice Leone's freckled ginger ass. Her huge crop of crimson pubic hair bulged outward from her vulva giving the impression that he was fornicating with a bear cub. Ben aimed the tip of his cock into her mass of curly labial tresses hoping to find a vagina at the bottom of it. It seemed an interminable passage, fraught with peril for the uninitiated.

Once past her silky jungle, however, Jannie's vaginal credentials were unparalleled. Her pussy ranked up there with the best of them. It was fresh and warm and wet. It contrasted nicely with Jannie's outwardly frosty demeanor. Ben fucked her from behind. He reached around front, using his thumb and forefinger to masturbate her engorged super-clitoris like a man, just as she'd taught him. He pulled her clitoral foreskin back and forth over her penile nub. This sensation, in concert with his thick, intrusive penis, wafted the girl aloft into an insensate realm of carnality where she lingered and lingered, sampling the electric impulses to be found there. Bennett used her pussy to masturbate his dick, twirling circlets into her love canal as she suckled his thrusts. They were old hands at this. Sunday was their day to re-acquaint themselves.

Unlike Miriam up in the bell tower, Jannie was in no hurry. It would be a week before she could meet with Ben like this again. They'd successfully fucked in this manner so often that the fear of discovery was a distant memory.

When Jannie felt herself nearing the tipping point she simply eased her pussy off Ben's cock, turned and sucked him. She knew he wouldn't cum until she was ready.

On his dick was the aroma of her carnal universe. Succulent. Heady. Deeply arousing. It was addictive.

She slobbered bubbles along his shaft, then stood and pointed his dick into her stinkness.

"It needs some seasoning," she reasoned.

There was a marked difference between Jannie's rectum and her poochipap. From Ben's perspective her ass was drier, firmer, less accommodating. He had to be well lubricated before making the trip up her poop chute. It was work.

By contrast Jannie's pussy always smiled open and never failed to recommend her clitoris as a friend and confidante, and well worthy of his attention. Too, she was slippery in a fun sort of way. If one tripped and fell into her, her charming laugh erased all elements of dismay.

"Whoops! Take care, now! Let's try it again!"

From Jannie's perspective her ass and her pussy were flip sides of the same organism. Both required thickness, friction and motion to prosper.

"I'm full. That's the thing."

Jannie's clit was an entirely different slice of pie. It raged and burgeoned like a small penis, complete with all the attributes and detriments of said protuberance. It had thickness, length and a crown. Jannie could waft it aloft at will. Men who encountered it visually for the first time were often shocked to see it rising like a spring mushroom from beneath Jannie's crimson carpet.

"There's a pussy down there, too." Janice often reminded her lovers, queefing its scent to soften the stunning visual effect of her throbbing mini-member.

She enjoyed getting blown, man or woman, it made no difference. Janice would lay on her back and open her legs wide so that she might watch whomever chose to service her. She imagined the ridicule she might endure if she were a man with such a small, stubby penis. Instead, she enjoyed the amazement her lobster claw clitoris evoked. It bobbed at the apex of her cleft, preening for tongue. And if no mouth closed upon it, the friction/pressure of a furry pubis served almost as well, as long as a huge dick encumbered her vaginal passage in tandem. Jannie had the best of both worlds.

Just now she could feel Ben's dick surging faster and faster still inside her bottom. Her ass cheeks wobbled and flattened with each powerful thrust.

"Not yet!"

She eased up off his dick, leaving it throbbing manically in the air.

"I'm gonna suck it, okay? And then you do me," she murmured aloud.

This was not a request.

Jannie knelt and took Ben's dick into her mouth.

Jenny Seduces Jake

As Buck Harness' niece, Jennifer Harkness wasn't family per se. Sure, she called Abigail Leone Harkness 'auntie', but that title accrued from marriage, not blood.

Jake Leone didn't care either way. She had a pussy, didn't she? What else mattered?

Back in the day, the two of them had been chicken fighting partners at the Thompkins swimming hole before a group of parents banned the game outright. Jake remembered that one time where he, Ben, Tommy Thompkins, Leo Green, Pete Harkness and a few other teens convinced a number of the local girls, black and white, to chicken fight in the nude. After some trepidation, one of the black girls stripped naked, followed by a few others. Finally the white girls doffed their clothing to avoid being called 'yellow'.

Jake was amazed to see his partner, Jennie, boldly splashing about in the buff. She wasn't grown yet. Her titties best resembled a set of overly large nipples lacking heft or sway. 'Mosquito bites' she called them. Her bush, too, was a work in progress. Despite its deep brunette coloration, it didn't cover her entire puss; one could still see patches of white skin beneath. (This wasn't true of any of the Leone girls, all of whom sported full-bush pussies and wobbly breasts as they entered their teens.)

When Jennie mounted his shoulders and he could feel her vagina pressing against his neck, Jake almost swooned. His penis ballooned erect. Though he sought to hide it beneath the watery surface, Jennie noticed his boner and called it to the attention of the other girls. Then everyone, male and female, had a good laugh at Jake's expense.

Jake and Jennie defeated Leo Green and Dinah Thompkins in the first round of chicken fighting that day. Jake's erect penis touched Leo's penis (also erect) during the mash up, causing Leo to fall over backward in shock. Tommy Thompkins and Polly Lynn Bannister subsequently defeated Jake and Jennie in the second round.

After the loss, Jake attempted to keep Jennie astride his shoulders purely for the feel of her naked ass against his skin. Jennie wiggled free of his grip and spent the rest of that day avoiding him. He seemed just too eager to 'accidentally' touch her with his penis. She'd thought it cute at first. Not so much later on.

Much had transpired between that summer day seven years ago and this.

Firstly, Janice Leone spilled the beans about the naked chicken-fighting contest. Since the black boys present had witnessed white girls naked (although none of them had taken white girls as chicken-fighting partners), coed swimming had been summarily banned.

"What were you thinking! white fathers thundered at their sons. "Lett’n blackies see your sista buck nekkid! Ever last one oh dem coulda got raped. You knows how their kind is!"

Secondly, Jake Leone inadvertently impregnated his cousin Patrice McNulty, who subsequently married and moved away to Tennessee.

Thirdly, Jennie's uncle Buck married Jakie's cousin Abigail, making Jennie an erstwhile member of the Leone clan. She was, as yet, unaware of the initiation fee into that august tribe.

It was Bennett Leone who apprised Jennie Harkness of her membership dues. Jennie lost her virginity to Ben during the wedding festivities. He fucked her several more times at church before passing her off to his cousin Jake because (he said): "She needs mo' practice'n I got time to give."

Despite Ben's assessment of her nascent sexual capacities, Jennie Harkness blossomed into a lovely young woman. A natural brunette, she wore her flaxen hair after the fashion of a lion's mane reaching down to the small of her back. Her 'mosquito bites' filled in nicely to become apple sized breasts featuring cherry nipples. She had a small waist and a proportionatel

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 7

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 14 Oct 2026 18:48:00 +0000

Nightcrawling the Triplets

By Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Night Crawling with the Thompkins Triplets

"He say I 'posed to suck he dick when he get here. He say he got a big un," Beulah Thompkins commented offhandedly as she scrubbed a berry stain from a white linen shirt.

"Dey all say dat," her sister Miriam snipped back. "What he gon' giv'n you if'n you does?" Her dark hands were lathered in lye soap.

"I sucked his dick dat one time, you 'member I tole you? Down by de back fence?" interjected Dinah, the third sister, ignoring Miriam's query. "It ain't l'il. I've sucked bigger, d'ough."

The three slave women were identical triplets, well past puberty, and more than familiar with the Southern poontang tradition imposed upon comely young black women in northeast Louisiana. This late summer afternoon found them hand washing the Thompkins family clothing in the creek using smooth stones and homemade soap. They gossiped as they worked. Beulah Thompkins' comment about Bennett Leone's impending visit was considered of no more consequence than a treatise on owl migration patterns.

"You sucked his dick? What he giv'n you?" Beulah asked Miriam.

"A bad case of jizz breff!" Dinah laughed.

"Shut up, Dinah." Miriam snapped. "Leastways I only sucked his dick an' sent him home. You sucked his dick an' den you offered he de poosy to boot! fo' free!"

"Pissh. My poosy need jist as much relief as he dick. And so do your'n, tell de troof an' shame de Debil! Why ah'm-a let him shoot his foofy in my mouf' an' don't get no joy on my own account? You sound stupid."

"Dat ain't de point. You know dat ain't de point. Supposin' Marse Tommy find out you been givin' some-a his poosy to Marse Bennett? For free? He don't like Marse Bennett no how on account of that time Marse Bennett made Chollie whup him down to the swimmin' hole."

"I wish'd I coulda been dere to see dat!" Beulah mused absentmindedly.

"Well I was dere", Miriam continued. "An' you ain't seen nuttin' tell you sees a chocolate lass cut loose on a white boy. Chollie whupped dat crackuh's ass up one side an' down de udder. Some-a de udder white boys went to help Marse Tommy but Marse Bennett said he'd sic Chollie on dem, too. Come right out and said he'd fight on Chollie's side! Dat made 'em gulp back some tobacky, lemme tell you!"

"Lawdy! Dat wuz sev'm years ago! I'll suck Marse Bennett's dick six ways from Sunday if he'll sic Chollie on ole Tommy one mo' again!" Beulah smirked.

"Bof' 'um's grown now. Chollie only got away wid it 'cause dey's boys. He take and go upside Marse Tommy's haid now and Marse Bennett cain't protect him like he did back den. Marse Tommy'll get up a posse an' go an' lynch Chollie, you watch and see. String him right up and Benny cain't he'p him." Dinah noted.

"Dat Chollie is de one whose dick you oughta be lookin' at suckin'", Miriam observed with a note of satisfaction. "Dass one good-lookin' blackie."

"I know, right? But de onliest time we sees him is at church. An' he don't come half de time. He stay home wid' his Pa."

"You let me catch him alone one time, jist once. I'll put it on him so good he won't never wanna go back to de Leone's. He-a change his name to Thompkins!" Miriam vowed.

"Yeh, yeh. We know. Yo' poosy is de sunshine in de sky. I'd like to see you to prove it, Miss Braggadodiodo." Beulah challenged.

"Oh ho! You got a dick I can wrap my Priscilla around? Pull it out. She'll have you screamin' my name out loud."

"Not my dick. Oh no! Marse Bennett's dick, when it get here"

"I thought you wuz de one gwine suck his dick? What my Priscilla got to do wit' yo bid'ness?"

"You de one always braggin' about she. Let's see what she can do. Less'n youse skeered."

"Skeered-a what? Whiteboy dick? Please."

Dinah intervened.

"She's right, you know. You de one always make it seem like yo poosy don't stink. 'N lawd knows I smells yo fish market ever' day. Yit when de big dicks come to callin', you always got sump'n else to do. I bet yo' throat see mo' dick den yo' poochipap do."

"Youse a damn lie. My Priscilla done seen mo' dick den you an' Beulah put togedder. I jist don't go runnin' off at the mouf about it. Bof' you heffahs talk too much."

"Who you done put it on, den? Besides Marse Tommy an' Freddy Harkness?"

"Dass fo' me to know an you to find out."

"Like I said: All mouf an' no poochipap."

Miriam decided to change tactics.

"What's he gon' gimme to let him slip his dick up into my Priscilla? He gimme a peppermint ball to suck his dick that other time. My Priscilla is worf' a whole lot more'n dat."

"He white! He ain't gotta give you nuttin'! Marse Tommy been all up in yo poosy, too, an' all he giv'n you was a snootful o' jizz!"

"Dass diffunt. Marse Tommy own dis place an' you and me bofe. Marse Ben is a visitor. An' he ain't 'posed to be here no how, seein' as how Marse Tommy don' like him. A gennulman always leaves a lady wif a 'commodation for her time an' talents."

"'Commodation my ass. You jist skeered. 'Commodations is fo' white womens' poosies. Yo poosy is on call."

"So what you wan' me to do?" Miriam asked. "Show you how to suck dick? Ain't I already did that? It ain't me who made dese cheek-poke arrangements."

"I, I, wanna suck his dick." Beulah said hesitantly.

"So who's stopping you?"

"I, I, want y'all to help me, is all."

"You need help sucking a dick? What's ailin' you?"

"I, I, want y'all to pitch in."

"Oh I get it!" chirped Dinah. "You want to put it on him! Priscilla, Patricia and Pamela all at the same time!"

(Priscilla, Patricia and Pamela were the given names for their respective pussies)

"Yeah."

"You tryna kill him", observed Miriam warily.

"I'm tryna see his face when you whip Priscilla on him, since she so good."

"Trust me. He won't be awake for long. He might faint. You better let him taste Pamela first 'cause if you don't Pamela is goin' dry."

"You can trust me. Pammie ain't never dry", Beulah countered confidently.

Bennett Leone, the white scion of a tobacco farm two miles distant, waited until Annie Leone's easy snoring permeated their shared loft bedroom. He hadn't bothered his sister for her sex this night, preferring to conserve his strength for his planned late evening foray over at the Thompkins farm.

Annie noticed his unusual reticence. She correctly deduced that he had other plans. She knew Ben well; her brother didn't just pass up free pussy.

"Ever' time his dick gets hard he wants to get it wet", she noted. "He don't waste no 'rections."

Rather than challenge him on the matter, Annie rolled over and promptly fell asleep. In the morning Ben's dick would be resting against her upper lip, seeking the warmth of her throat like always, no matter whose pussy juices graced his shaft the night before.

Ben played his part in this charade admirably. He nestled into his bed until he found a comfy position. As time passed he offered up some measured snores, softly at first, but deepening in timbre with each iteration. Annie noted his fake snoring with a wan shake of her blonde tresses.

"Go fuck whichever heffah suits you, Benny. Jeez! My pussy needs some rest anyway. It's not like we're married."

While he waited for Annie to drift off, Ben ruminated about Beulah Thompkins. The black girl and her family had been to church this past Sunday, sitting up in the balcony with the rest of the slaves. She wore a white ankle-length frock buttoned up to her neck. Ben couldn't help but imagine the svelte curves underlying her Victorian raiment, the luscious milk chocolate tits, her velvet pubic mound. All three of those Thompkins triplets were fine as hell. They sucked a mean dick, too. Tommy Thompkins didn't like sharing them, selfish bastard.

After church Ben sought Beulah's attention. Catching her eye, he gave her the time honored come on, that is, he poked his tongue into his cheek twice to simulate female fellatio. Beulah, surprised at being thus selected, smiled and dropped her eyes demurely. They were in church, after all! When she raised her head again she sought Ben's gaze and poked her tongue into her cheek just once, signifying acceptance.

Ben looked around. Scores of parishioners were laughing and milling about while conversing. His surreptitious cross-crowd conversation with the black girl went unnoticed in the hubbub. He mouthed the word "Wednesday" voicelessly across the racial chasm between them. (Even after church, the races didn't mingle). Beulah nodded her assent. And that was that. They would meet at the Thompkins swimming hole. Ben couldn't risk being caught on Tommy's farm after hours.

Annie's measured snoring brought Ben back to the present. He peeked out at his sister. In the nighted gloom he could see that she'd snuggled her shoulders and tits under her blanket, but her naked ass poked out to the very edge of her bed. Her hairy labia swelled from between her ass cheeks, barely concealing her pink slit. It gleamed wetly. Annie's rounded ass rose and ebbed tremulously with each breath. Ben's penis surged at the sight.

"Beulah better be good. Look at what I'm passing up!" Ben mused silently.

He stepped to his sister with his erect member in hand and eased his pudenda back and forth along the horizontal line of her crevice. Unconsciously, Annie drew her right leg up to afford him better access to her pinkness. Even asleep, she was used to such intrusions.

Ben eased forward until his helmet disappeared into her slippery cooze. Rather than plunge further in, Ben gripped his shaft and began to masturbate. He stroked his shaggy foreskin sensually against Annie's pussy lips, relishing the sticky sound of their intercourse and the sweet aroma thereof.

All too soon Ben's jism sprayed forth in fits and spurts.

"That's it. That's good. Now I won't cum too fast with Beulah. I cain't have her telling her sisters I cain't fuck."

Ben pulled his sticky wet cock back into his drawers, then threw on his coveralls and climbed out of the loft. He sneaked out the front door and soon disappeared into the darkness.

Alone in the loft, Annie reached down between her legs to scoop some of Ben's jism. She drew it to her lips and sniffed it.

"Whoever it is he's fucking, he don't want her to think he cums too fast", she correctly surmised. Then she rolled over and dropped back off to sleep.

Ben hurried down the darkened dirt road to the Thompkins place two miles distant. He didn't bother to disguise his egress. Any slave catchers about would quickly notice his race and allow him to pass. He wouldn't need to dissemble his intent until he approached the Thompkins farm. Ben knew of a path that avoided the Thompkins' hound dogs. It led to the Thompkins' swimming hole where, undoubtedly, Beulah would be waiting. Ben hoped she'd been thoughtful enough to bring a blanket. Though he'd only asked for a blowjob, poontang was always a viable option at these encounters.

Arriving at the Thompkins' swimming hole, Ben looked about cautiously. A full moon bathed the pond in twilight. There were shadows at the tree line, but the small sandy beach leading into the water was fully exposed.

"Bea?" Ben called out cautiously. "Bea? You here?"

"Yassuh" came Beulah's soft reply as she stepped into the gladelight from the woods. Ben grinned. Beulah was naked from the waist up. Her tits bounced saucily in the moonlight, perky ebony nipples upturned and shiny. Her breasts were much bigger than when he'd last seen them. Plus, she'd thought to bring a blanket.

"Yes!"

As she approached him, Beulah wiggled free of her skirt. By the time she reached Ben she was fully and spectacularly naked. Ben took a moment to regard her. She had an hourglass waist, full dark lips and an impish smile. A curly patch of black pubic hair outlined her vagina. She didn't look as muscular as Charlie's sister Ruthie or his cousin Tilly. She looked soft. Curvy. Like a girl.

The Thompkins triplets pressed their natural hair straight with a hot comb. Ben didn't know how Beulah did it, but she wore her hair parted a little off to the left and straight down to her shoulders. It bounced in conjunction with her breasts when she walked. Unlike a white woman's hair, however, if Beulah's hair became wet for any reason it would draw up into an unmanageable kinky mass. Beulah knew this. She wasn't planning on swimming anytime soon. Whether she sweated some naps into it this night depended entirely upon Ben.

"Damn, girl! You look good!" Ben opened.

"I know." Beulah replied. She didn't offer a compliment in return.

"I see you brung a blanket. You got some plans?" Ben asked disingenuously.

"I might. If'n you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all! Spread it out here. Right here away from the water."

Beulah did as she was told.

"You brung my lollipop?" she asked innocently.

"What lollipop?" Ben was taken aback.

"De lollipop you wuz braggin' about in church."

"Oh! This!"

Ben flumped his heavy cock from his pants. It reeked of fresh semen and sticky pussy.

Beulah scrunched her face up.

"Who said anything about yo' dick? You tole me you had a store-bought lollipop. Dass what de cheek poke mean."

Ben was confused.

"No. I, I meant, you know what I meant. Stop playin' around, girl. I come all this way and, "

Beulah smiled up at him.

"I'm jist playin' wit chu," she said.

Turning her attention to his exposed penis Beulah commented: "My! You done growed since de last time I seen Mr. Petey Winkle! You 'member dat time? All us wuz playin' in de water out here? We wuz kids. Look at you! I guess you think you a man, now, hey?"

She took his cock in her hand and caressed it. Predictably, it hardened and lengthened.

"Nice!" she said. "Who you been doin' it to? Dis dick smell like wet pooncey."

"It always smell like that. You don't like that smell?" Ben ventured.

"It's aiight, I guess. It might smell better if it was my poosy on dere."

"We can make that happen, too, if you want." Ben noted hopefully.

"Nope," Beulah said. "You said you wanted yo' lollipop licked. An' dass all I'm fi'nda do."

"Then why'd you bring the blanket?" Ben queried.

"You'a see." Beulah answered.

She knelt before him and took his penis into her mouth. The scent of Annie's recently plumbed labia majora shrieked into Beulah's nostrils. She drew back.

"Whew! Whoever's poosy dis is on here, it sho' is pow'ful!"

Ben ignored her comment. He closed his eyes and pressed Beulah's head back into service. Soon he was roiling his hips in little swirlets, plunging his cock down the black girl's throat. The scent of her fellatio mixed with the scent of his earlier sleep creep to produce a uniquely alluring aroma.

Ben pulled his cock from her mouth, bent and kissed her. They shared tongues lavishly for a moment before Ben stood and re-inserted his dick between her lips. Beulah grasped his thighs and chickenheaded him slowly. Occasionally she took a long, lavish lick up and down his shaft, marveling at its veiny texture, becoming more and more intoxicated by the masculine odor of his thick, meaty phallus. Pammie was soaked and quivering. Bea flickered her tongue against the sensitive nerves under his cockhead like a snake. This drove Ben into paroxysms of electric delight. He pressed his cock as deep into her throat as it would go. When he withdrew his cock was coated in bubbly foam. A rising tide of crackling heat lightning accumulated behind his eyelids.

"If I cum now, how long before I can cum again?" he wondered. "Oh Lordy! Hold back, Benny! Keep it right there!"

Ben bent and kissed her again. This time their kiss was deeper, more sensual. Her ample lips differed from the white girls he'd kissed. They were thicker, more supple, more akin to a woman's labia. Moreover, her mouth tasted of creamy coffee laden with cane sugar. Her lips were heart-shaped, her lower lip being slightly larger than her upper lip and dimpled at its mid-section. She kissed with the suckle of a freshly minted vagina bursting alive into volcanism. Reluctantly, Ben straightened and offered his dick to her again. He watched with amazement as those transcendent lips widened to engulf him.

"Only Annie sucks dick like this. Bea's pussy must be crazy hot!"

While Ben was devising a plan to get Beulah splayed out, ankles-to-earlobes, on the blanket, a second wettened heat source sent rivulets of electricity scorching up from his groin. Ben looked down. Amazingly, Beulah's sister Dinah had come from nowhere, knelt, and added her silky lips to the fray. She looked up at him with a wicked smile. Beulah looked at her sister with approval. She continued to nurse at his pud while Dinah chewed small hickies into Ben's shaft with her teeth.

Ben closed his eyes and let the sisters have at it. Two Beulahs! Each identical! He couldn't tell them apart. If they switched positions, he couldn't tell whose name to shout out during the money shot. Ben caressed both their heads and encouraged them to continue. His dick steamed with surge as he struggled to suppress his ejaculate. The longer he held out, the bigger the explosion would be when he finally released.

As Ben squirmed in the agony of his pre-ejaculatory extremis, a third mouth sent shockwaves up his frame. It was Miriam, the third triplet. She, too, was naked. He'd hit the jackpot!

Miriam wore her hair pulled back into a girlish ponytail. It's the only way Ben could tell her apart from her siblings and, indeed, she wore her hair differently for this exact purpose. She took up a position opposite Dinah on the other side of Ben's shaft and nibbled him further into submission.

This was just too much. Ben felt like a gymnast holding an impossibly unnatural position on the rings. His muscles burned. His body clenched as rigid as any penis. Fires raged from his eyeballs. His knees felt like jelly, unable to support his weight.

Finally, Ben surrendered to the inevitable. He fired a massive burst of jism against Beulah's tongue, bucking and straining with the effort. Soon her mouth was awash in spunk. It dripped like honey from her supple lips and her teeth. She held her mouth open so that her sisters and Ben could see his jism accumulate into a tapioca-like puddle on her tongue. Then she smiled and blithely swallowed his issue down.

"Move, girl", Miriam ordered in her best "take-charge" fashion. "You gon' let his dick get soft before I gets my chance."

Miriam's brusqueness broke Ben's post-orgasmic reverie.

"It's my turn at the tip", Dinah interrupted. "I wuz here 'fore you was."

"You gon' has to wait. Bea done drained his dick. You don' know how to suck no drained dick. If we has to wait on you we'll be here all night. Lemme get him hard again and den you kin suck him all you want. He won't be in no rush to shoot his jizz again, not after that pile he just unloaded on Bea."

Dutifully, Beulah ceded her spot to Miriam. Beulah took up Miriam's position along Ben's lumbering shaft.

Now in the catbird's seat, Miriam paused to sniff the air dramatically.

"Dang, girl!" Miriam commented to Beulah. "Pamela sho' is payin' off! She sho' ain't dry. You wasn't lying 'bout dat much. Hey, I bet you Pammie can get him hard faster'n I can, you reckon?"

"He ain't axed for Pammie, Miri. I give him what he axed fuh."

"Just cause he ain't axed for Pammie don' mean we cain't put Pammie to good use. I ain't seen the fella yet as don't want a sloppy wet piece-a prime poosy, even if he ain't got the sense to axe fuh it. An' you needthe practice, anyways. Stand up."

Beulah did as she was told. Of equals, Miriam was the most equal sister.

"Raise yo' leg up. Like this."

Beulah complied.

"Whew! You smell like a buncha dicks been up in you already! You smell dat, Di?"

Dinah smirked.

"Shut up, Miri. Pammie jist wet is all. Bea been suckin' dick. You ack like cain't nobody's poosy get riled up but your'n."

"I'm just sayin'," replied Miriam.

Miriam positioned Beulah directly facing Ben, still woozy and swaying from his mammoth earlier splatter. She took Ben's limp penis and positioned it awkwardly between Beulah's labia, centered at the entrance to her hole. Using her index finger, she pushed Ben's spent member up into her sister's pussy. It slid easily inside. Pammie was slick with t

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 6

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 13 Oct 2026 18:48:00 +0000

Janice Leone describes how it feels getting monster fucked.

By Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

My name is Janice. The following story is set in Northeast Louisiana in 1844. Mary Lynn, Gretchen, Annie, & Polly Lynn were sitting with me at the wedding reception for Abby. The girls had sex on their minds and imagined what Abby’s wedding night might be like, tonight.

After several tawdry comments, Mary Lynn turned to me and said; "Janice, tell us 'bout Blue again. I don't know how you do it. I couldn't get a dick that big up in me without a shoe horn an' a brick!"

Gretchen: "Yeh, Janice, tell us! I still cain't get over how you said you warn't never gunna get you a woodpile slave. An' now you got the best one!"

Annie: "I dunno that he's the best one. He might be the biggest one. I still say that Charlie Nelson can fuck rings around jist about anybody I know, white or black. That boy can work it!"

Janice: "Well, I ain't tested Charlie out yet."

Annie: "It ain't like I ain't offered you the chance."

Janice: "You mean that time down to your pond? When Abby took my turn? I warn't ready then. I warn't broke in good. You knew that. You wuz tryin' to get me to do sump'n I warn't ready for. I'll try him now, though. I'm good an' broke in now, some might say."

Mary Lynn: "Tell us, Janice! Is you done did to him lately?"

Janice: "Yeah. We done it yesterday. Cain't you see I'm walkin' funny?"

Polly Lynn: "I noticed. I ain't wanna say nuthin."

Janice: "Well, if you'd had your legs cocked open for a hour an' a half an' a big ole elephant trunk snappin' in your cunt, you'd be walkin' funny, too."

Gretchen: "A hour an' a half?"

Janice: "If I'm lyin', I'm flyin."

Mary Lynn, Jennie and Annie (in tandem): "Dang."

Polly Lynn: "Did you make him lick you? That's the part I wanna hear."

Janice: "He licked me. Front and back. An' I licked him, too."

Jennie: "He give you a back lick?"

Janice: "Of course. He's grown. He ain't like our biddy li'l boys what don't want to go the full measure. He licked me clean."

Jennie: "Front and back?

Janice: "Yep. Front, back, knees, pits, toes, taint and titties. I ain't no li'l girl no more. What? You think he spent the whole hour'n a half humpin' my cunt? I'd be dead! An' so would you, for that matter. Ain't I told you he got a elephant trunk in his pants?"

Mary Lynn, Jennie and Annie (in tandem): "The full measure! Wow!"

Janice: "Do you want me to tell the story or don't you?"

Mary Lynn, Jennie and Annie (in tandem): "Do tell; Do tell!"

Janice: "Okay. So you know my Pa an' my brother come to town early to help with the dance setup, right? That left me and my Ma home alone. So I'm lying in my bed an' it occurs to me that I ain't had none in a few days. I could tell because my cunny had got hot and achy, an' that only happens when she ain't, well, she ain't did what a good cunny is 'posed to do. I don't want get too much into it. All of us has been there from time to time.

"So I wondered if'n I had the time to go get Blue. Usually, I'll give him a hint to come up to the house real late after everyone goes asleep. But I ain't had the time yesterday to pull his coat. I'd thought he was goin' to town with my Pa. But my Pa ain't took the carriage to town. Him and Jake rode the horses. So that left me with a achy cunny and no way to cool her off, less'n I used my hand, an' I ain't wanna do that if'n I could get a message to Blue. Who wants a hand if'n you can get the real thing? If you polish pearl an' the real thing shows up, you might don't have the energy to handle the ride, you know? Anyway, that was how I saw it.

"So I was gunna see if I could sneak down an' get him. I peeked out my door an' I ain't see anything stirring. So I was gunna make a run for it. Jist as I was rampin' up to go, I seen my Ma sliding out! She had her nightdress on an' a overcoat. I don't know where she was goin', but I didn't want her to see me peekin' out, so I slipped back into bed an acted like I was asleep.

"By and by, I ain't hear nuthin'. She jist disappeared into the night. I figured she must'a forgot sump'n an' went to get it. But she was gone for so long, an' my ache jist wouldn't go away, I knew I had to do sump'n. So I gathered up my courage an' I slipped out of my bedroom. I tiptoed over to the front door an' peeked out. I ain't see her anywhere. An' I ain't wanted to sneak out and have her catched me on her way back from wherever she was.

"Finally, I took a deep breath an' I jist run out the front door. I told myself that if I come across my Ma, I'd tell her I went to axe her sump'n an' she warn't in her bedroom. I said I'd say I got panicked and run out lookin' for her. Anyway, that sounded good to me. An' my Ma would believe me, if it come to that.

"Really, I was on my way down to Blue's place in the field worker quarters. I was gunna roust him up and have him come up to the house. I knowed better than to have him in my room or for me to stay at his place, because my Ma would come an' check on me soon's she got back from wherever she was. So I was gunna tell him to climb up into the loft where Jake sleeps an' wait for me there. Even if my Ma checked on me, I could always call down from the loft an' tell her where I was. She wasn't gunna climb up.

"So I get down to Blue's hut. I peek in. Don't you know he's already got a dark gal mounted up an' she's jist a roilin'! He's got this stupid smile on his face, you know, that look they get when they's locked in? You like it when they get that look because they're sot jist so and won't cum, so's you can jist roil and roil an' don't have to worry 'bout re-energizin' a floppy dick or wipin' jizz off a leaky cunny.

"He sees me in the window. I give him the thumb jerk. He knows that means I want him to come up to the house. He's thinkin' I give him the thumb jerk earlier an' he musta missed it, because he give the maid gal a tap on her ass an' told her to finish up. She musta already had got hers because she ain't made too much of a complaint about gettin' shorted. She eased her cunny off him and reached for her clothes. His dick was still rock hard. When I see that I run back to the house an' waited. I knowed he would come.

"I get back to the house an' my Ma ain't made it back yit. I wasn't too worried. She usually knows what she's about. I was jist concerned that she would come up jist as Blue was comin' up, you know? I ain't wanted that. So I waited at the front door till I see him comin'. I rushed him in an' I told him to skeedaddle up into the loft an' wait for me in my brother, Jake’s bed. I peeked out for a bit, lookin' for my Ma, but she never showed up. By an' by my cunny ache told me she'd be alright. My twat ain't often wrong. I climbed up into the loft behind Blue.

"Once't I got up there I lit a candle so's I could see. He's up there, alright, dick in hand. He ain't washed it since he'd been up in the maid girl's cunny, so he had that "I been fuckin'" smell; you know how it do. Some folks don't like it. I used to didn't like it, but I've got used to it. It don't bother me now as much as it used to.

"Anyway, I know I've said this before, but that durn Blue is one good looking boy. He's got that ebony skin, bald head, and them big muscles. His eyes are hazel, an' he's got lips like a girl. Not femmy, I mean, but kinda, what's the word? Sensitive? Sensual? That's the word. Sensual. You'd like to kiss him. That's what I mean. Usually you jist want a field worker to fuck 'cause his dick can crawl way up in you and scrub the areas where a regular dick don't reach, most times. But with Blue, you jist wanna suck on his lips an' his tongue an' his neck while his dick is scrubbing you out. An' you feel like, kinda like, a woman. You know?

"Plus, you wanna talk about Prescott Gaston can suck some cunny? He cain't hold a candle to Blue. That big boy can suck a cunny like it was a chicken bone, an' won't leave nary bit of gristle, nor fat, neither. You ain't got to axe Blue for the pooty-woo. He'll lick you back to front, front to back, top to bottom and side to side. You get done with a Blue lickin' session an' it's jist like you'd had a hot bath on a Saturday. An' we ain't even talked about his dick yet.

"Anyway, I was sayin' I lit a candle and Blue was there on my brother’s bed with his dick in his hand. He stood up and stroked it till it stood up on its own. He knows I like that. Lemme tell you, once't his dick gets hard? He can bend his head down and suck it on his own. One time I dared him to do it, an' he did it, an' I thought it was the most amazin' thing. He wasn't ashamed or nuthin'. I watched him suck it for a minute or two, then I jumped in an sucked it for him. I ain't wanted him to take my job out ah my hands. He might wouldn't wanna mash his dick up in my cunny no more. I couldn't have that.

"But I ain't had him suck hisself yesterday. I wanted to kiss him an' he had that other girl's cream all over his dick. I ain't wanna taste that, so I needed to twatted him up in my own fur, like Annie said, before I put my mouth or his mouth on it.

"So I had him lie down on his back an' I clumb up on him an' I eased myself down on it. You 'member the first time him and me did it standin' up an' I ain't had no problems gettin' it in because I was so wet and horny with The Taint? Well, that was then. I ain't got The Taint now. So you can jist imagine it's a bit more harder'n it was the first time I done it to him.

"I pointed him into my fur and jiggled around till my cunny lips was situated roundst that big ole dickhead as best as I could get it. Felt like he was mashin' my cunny lips into my thighs, he was so thick. So I give a li'l push and he widened me. But I still couldn't fit his whole thing in. I give another li'l push. An' another. But it ain't seem like he was gettin' any deeper, an' I needed him to be real deep, because my burn don't start from the front of my cunny. It starts from the back an' it plugs into my clit at the front. That's what makes her hard and wobbly, less'n somebody gives her a suck.

"So I says to him, I says: "I'm gunna need some grease, it appears."

"He knows what that means. So I crawled up his chest with my pooty and I give him the woo right off the bat. I put Hilda May, ya know, that’s what I named my nub. I put her right in his mouth to let her blossom from the forest. When she got good and hard, I give him my front hole to lick. Then I give him my back hole. Then the front hole again. Then I went back and forth between the two with the quickness, jist ah-sloshin' him up. I'm humpin' his face. One time I turned around an' give him the chance't to lick up my crack from the back. I opened my eyes that time an' here's his dick, right in my face! But he still had that maid girl's cunny juice caked up on it, so I ain't wanna suck it.

"But my back lick felt so good! I had them colored lights flashin' behind my eyes an' my innards was cookin' with fire. My cunny was drippin' cream and Blue was jist ah-lappin' it up. An' I had this monster dick staring me in the face. Jist ah-quiverin'! I says to myself, I says: "Lemme cunny this dick up proper so's I can suck it. This don't make no sense, him suckin' me an' I cain't suck him back. No sense at all!"

"So I turned around again. I'm still on top, you see, squattin' on the balls of my feet. An' I pointed his dick back into my twat. This time it went in easier. I got the head in, anyway, an' that's the widest part. Now all I'd got to do was work the other fifteen inches in! So's I grit my teeth an' set about the task. My cunny don't seem to mind the smell of another woman's cunny on a dick. It's my nose that makes those objections. An' I meant to suck that dick that day, you hear me? I mean, after I'd twatted him up a bit.

"So I'm ridin' him. Slow at first, but a li'l faster an' a li'l faster each time down the pole. I meant to scrub that dick clean. That's the best part of havin' a thick, red carpet like I gots. It's better'n a washrag an' soap. It soaks up all the leftover cunny juice an' don't leave nuthin' but fresh, clean Janice on a pole.

"Meanwhile I'm thinkin': "You know, I ain't never had the full fifteen inches. The most I've had is maybe the first thirteen." I always leave the last couple inches dry. Well, not totally dry. I give him some crawly drip, sometimes, when I'm on top. Anybody would. But that don't really count. I ain't never been able to rub my Hilda May, my clit, up against his nappy, you know? You know how it feels good to scrape your clit up against a boy's fur, sometimes, an' jist rotate? Especially nappy big boys, because it's got all that friction, all that kink? Well, Hilda May ain't never been acquainted with Blue's patch. I lay it ain't a passel of women can say they clits ever touched Blue's nappy patch, leastways not whilst his dick was up in 'em.

"So I says to my clit, I says: "Hilda May? Today is your day."

"So I'm countin' the inches. Sev'm inches. Eight. Ten. 'Lem. I get to twelve inches an' my cooch is gaspin' for air. Blue ain't jist long. He's thick! I got 'nuther three inches to go an' I feel like I'm in the deep end of the pond swimmin', gotta come up for air occasional, less'n I'll drown. But I'm on top, so's it ain't so noticeable. When he's whalin' away from the top he don't give a gal the chance't to breathe proper. Jist Bam, Bam, Bam! I dunno. It feels good, but you don't get the chance to breathe, is all.

"Okay, so I'm grippin' a full thirteen. I look down an' my cunny is jist tremblin', huffin', an' puffin' like a prizzner on a chain gang. Hilda May is rock hard, jist ah-dancing along his pole like a li'l snotty marble. She's happy. Smilin'. She's plugged. But she ain't the one puttin' in the work. It's my cunny that's strainin' to breathe, not my clit.

"I'd got two inches to go. I give a li'l push. An' then another. I looked down. Dogged if'n I ain't right where I started! Them last two inches warn't gunna come easy. I see Hilda May stretchin' to reach Blue's nappy patch. She can see it. She can smell it. She jist cain't reach it. An' now she ain't so happy as before.

She reckoned: "I thought you said you wuz gunna roust me up against his nappy patch?"

So I go (to my cunny): "Come on, Sally! Let's don't leave Hilda May danglin'!"

(Sally's still gaspin' for air, donchuknow.)

"An' I give another li'l push, this time harder than before. Seemed like I gained another quarter inch. So I tried it again. Sally is strainin' now. She's sweatin'. Me an' Blue are doin' it, but it don't feel as good as it should 'cause now I'm competin'. If I'd left well-enough alone I coulda had busted a nut or three by now.

"But no. I'd got sot so's I had to rub up against his patch. Or bust! An' I'm jist abusing my cunny, my Sally, with Blue’s pole, like me an' her ain't the best of friends.

"Well, anything that's worth doin' is worth doin' right. Blue could tell I was strainin' to swallow him whole. He helped me as much as he could. But a cunny is only so deep, you know? If you got a thirteen-inch cunny it don't translate proper into a fifteen-inch cunny. An' you might stretch her out of shape in the attempt, an' she might don't bounce back. An' then when you get married, your white man won't never hope to fill you up. An' then you'd got to spend the rest of your life with a wrecked, an' outta shape cunny that cain't wrap up a regular dick an' lets it flop around in there like a peppermint in a jar.

"I looked down an' see he still had an inch an' a half of black snake pokin' out from my twat. Dry! An' Hilda May is jist ah-throbbin'.

"Girls? I give up, right then an' there. I eased up. I told Hilda May to get to scrubbin' that pole clean and don't worry about his patch. If we get there, we get there. But it don't make no sense to try an' force a king dick into a hole that ain't long enough to 'commodate. You know?

"Okay, so I decided to long-stroke him. I'd been inchin' down, you know, a inch down, a half a inch up. That way I figured I could get the full fifteen. Once I give up on that idea, I figured I'd do what I could with the top thirteen inches and damn the final two. So I drew my Sally all the way up to the tip, most let him fall outta me, jist hangin' in by the short hairs. Then I went all the way down, till I was full, thirteen inches in. An' I give him the swirl. Then I drew all the way up again, till his dick tip kissed my cunny lips real tender. Then I went all the way down again, till I could feel that big old cockhead budgin' up against the very back of my cunny. I give him the swirl again.

"We done it like that for about ten minutes, till he cum. Anybody woulda. I was goin' faster an' faster towards the end, there. I wanted him to cum before me. Usually it's me that cums first. I was ready to cum the whole time, though. When I felt his jizz shootin' into me, I give a li'l shiver with my cunny an' I slurped it up good. Now I know I'd got the maid girl's juice shaved off proper, I knowed it was time for me to get down to business.

"So after he got hard again, I knowed I had him. I could mangle him up like a pretzel and he warn't gunna splatter no time soon. So, first thing first, I give him the pooty-woo. I crawled up on his face an' I fucked his tongue from one hole to the other, whilst I sucked his dick. I sloshed my cunny all up in his face and scrubbed his nose up in my fur. I give him his jizz back 'long wit' some 'o my cream. An' I sucked the livin' shit outta that dick, girls, sucked it dry! I held that log in both my hands and jist bobbed on it. Chile? I cum over an' over an' over. It seemed like I couldn't help but sizzle. Dick in the mouth? Tongue in the ass? Girl? You ain't never had it so good.

"He licked every smatterin' o' cream from betwixt my legs. He nibbled my cunny lips. He sucked purple hickeys into my ass cheeks. Here, look. You wanna see?

(Here, Janice lifted her skirt and pulled her drawers down partially to display a series of intermingled purple/black bruises on her backside that looked more like the result of a beating than an amorous encounter.)

"I got a couple o' these upwards of my navel, too. An' look! There's one on the back o' my knee. I ain't seen that one till now. I'd show you the hickeys on my cunny lips, but you prolly couldn't see 'em under my fur. My whole cunny is purple blue, ladies. An' it ain't all jist because of the suckin'. I told you he had my legs cocked open for a good while as he sausaged me up. We'll get to that directly.

"Anyway, after I cum about four times, I clumb down down off his face. I hotched up on the edge of Jake's bed, on my knees, an' I waggled my doodihole in his face.

"Go on and put it in," I says to him, real sultry-like. "You know you want it."

"He went to put it up my cunny. But I wanted to try him up my poop chute. So when he pointed it at the wrong hole, I dipped a bit to let him know what time it was. He ain't no fool.

"He prized me open an' eased it in. I was still wet from the lickin' he give me. He gripped my butt cheeks and prized them open, too, so's he could get some lev'ridge. It ain't never easy gettin' a dick that big up a doodihole. I ain't you, Jennie. My doodihole is a clencher. She's tight. But we managed.

"Once't he got it in, he commenced to rammin'. Kaichakata! Kaikakachao! Each time he rammed it forward he got a li'l further up my doody. See, unlike a cunny, a doodihole ain't got no back. You can jist ram an' ram. An' if you ram long enough you can feel his nappy up against your butt cheeks, while your navel gets tickled from inside. Mine’s an innie, sept when Blue rams fully in. An' sometimes you can feel his nuts slappin' up against your clit, if he's rammin' it proper. They'll swing.

"Welp, I felt his nuts slappin' me from the back. An' his nappy hairs was scrubbin' my taint real nice. I don't mind sayin', it felt purty good. Not as good as the first time, mind you. But purty good. That first time he went up my poop chute was the best. I like to fainted, I was so hot. Steam was shootin' out my butt! But this time was purty good, too. He jist gripped my hips and roiled in an' out, kinda slow and happy. That first time he fucked my ass it was like he was mad at me for sump'n. I dunno why it feels better like that; angry fuckin', but it does.

"He ass-fucked me till I cum. Then he pull

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 5

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 12 Oct 2026 18:49:00 +0000

Gretchen Thomkins’ First Time

By Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Gretchen Thompkins lay awake in her bed. She was alone, reflecting over her day even as she anticipated good times at the upcoming Louisiana Harvest Dance, a fixture in small communities of the antebellum South.

Like her neighbor Annie Leone, Gretchen was a big farm girl, just shy of six feet tall, with thick thighs and burnished blonde hair that trended auburn. She had luscious tits, green eyes and (not surprisingly) well developed biceps.

Gretchen was also something of a tomboy. She had a quick temper; Gretchen would fight at the drop of a hat.

Now nineteen, she was a year older than Annie. The two girls were good friends even though they'd had several scuffles over the years. Gretchen won most of these.

Gretchen's fiery temperament bled over into her sex life. She liked to wrestle. Men who desired a home deep in her wet spot had to fight for it before, during and after the fact. This was largely due to Gretchen's history. Her earliest sexual experiences occurred while wrestling boys, Gretchen's favored sport. From childhood she found that she could quickly subdue male competitors using superior strength and leverage. Half-nelsons, arm-bars, ankle-locks and tight waists were her stock-in-trade.

During one such contest with Ray Ray, a black slave from her farm, she found herself astride him, pinning his arms to the ground. Though fully clothed, their genitals mashed together as Ray Ray struggled to counter her winning hold. Gretchen felt an inexplicable cylindrical lump rising in Ray Ray's groin. It didn't have the angular power of an elbow or a knee or a femur. She knew how to counter those anatomical weapons. No, this lump pressed her labia apart in a manner she found disconcerting yet delightful, even though she was fully dressed. She held Ray Ray down and surreptitiously rubbed herself up and down the length of this lump. She was puzzled to find that this motion pacified her competitor in proportion to her own arousal. It seemed to sap his will to compete. For some reason he stopped struggling and offered his increasingly firm lump up to her thrusts, though she thought she'd disguised this grinding action as a natural wrestling move.

Something felt strange about this position. If Ray Ray really tried, she felt he could throw her off. Astride him like this, she didn't have him properly locked up. At least his shoulder blades wouldn't be exposed to the ground. She noticed that he didn't seem to be trying very hard to escape.

Also, as deeply as she pressed him, Gretchen still felt like an unfilled abyss. She felt she possessed a canyon that could subdue Ray Ray's lump, and was designed to do so, and would enjoy doing so, yet she couldn't quite figure out how to accomplish it.

Anyway, this rubbing felt pretty good. In minutes a great warmth enveloped her, then an increasingly bright light, then a fibrillating rush. Finally something inside her musculature snapped and rocketed Gretchen into a realm of blissful exuberance. Her breathing became strained. Her toes trembled. She struggled to merge her groin with Ray Ray's lump through their clothing, casting her prior reticence to the winds.

When she recovered from this pall, Ray Ray's eyes were fluttering. He was actively massaging her groin with his lump. By now, it straddled up to his navel. His hands gripped her buttocks. He seemed to be on the verge of the same type of preternatural collapse Gretchen had just experienced.

Gretchen leapt off his body, flipped him over and snapped him into a three-quarter nelson. She cradled him up so that his shoulders touched the ground as his body painfully doubled over upon itself.

"Say uncle!" she demanded.

Ray Ray struggled uselessly. He was locked in.

"Say it!" she demanded again.

"Uncle!" gasped Ray Ray.

Gretchen let him go. She stretched out on her elbows and smiled at him.

"I told you I could whup you," she chided.

"What was that, move, you did when you were on top, there?" he asked, ignoring her challenge.

"I dunno," she answered. "First time I've done that. It just happened like that."

"Let's do that again?" he asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow," Gretchen replied. "I gotta get back to the house."

She spent the better part of a year wrestling with Ray Ray like this. No one knew of their bouts. Even touching a white woman in any sort of physical manner would have brought the full weight of Southern culture down upon Ray Ray. Despite this risk, Gretchen liked him. She especially liked manhandling him. It made her feel powerful.

In fact, the wrestling was Gretchen's main reason for their interactions. She was largely ignorant of the sexual connotations borne of this close contact.

Their next two matches offered no opportunity for a rehash of their earlier grind session. Gretchen took him down and mounted him from behind, working his arms and legs into position for a winning pin. On the third encounter, though, Gretchen deliberately struggled to a position atop his groin, elicited his lump and dry humped him until they extemporaneously exploded in tandem. Gretchen recovered quickly and pinned him again. She noted a huge, dark wet spot on his cotton pantaloons afterward. Had he peed himself?

It wasn't until weeks later that Ray Ray was able to mount and dry hump Gretchen from the superior missionary position. She splayed her legs open for him. This felt good. A few encounters later he was able to hump her from behind. After he splattered in his shorts, he flipped her over and pinned her for the first time. She let him.

Gretchen concluded this encounter by reaching into his pants to draw out his moistened lump. Her curiosity won out. As she suspected, it was his penis. But it wasn't as stiff now as it had been during their match. It was limp and sticky. It looked like the regular penises she'd seen around the farm dangling between the thighs of exhausted slaves. It smelled like her brother Tommy smelled, sometimes, when he returned home from the slave quarters. It flopped out of her fist and doubled over across her knuckles. Creamy fluid oozed from its tip. After considering it for a few moments, Gretchen impetuously reached down and took it in her mouth. This seemed a natural progression of her curiosity. In seconds Ray Ray's cock bloomed aloft, doubling in size and girth. Gretchen was amazed.

"This is what you been pressing me with, not that shriveled up other thing," she said. "How do you get it stiff like this?"

Boldly, Ray pushed her down. He pulled her swimming shorts down to her ankles, exposing her golden bush. Ray Ray drew an admiring gasp. Gretchen's pussy gaped open before him.

"What are you doing!" Gretchen erupted.

With that she kicked off her shorts and proceeded to give Ray Ray a grappling lesson for the ages. She twisted him up like a pretzel, bending his body into angles it was never designed to accommodate. His dick retained its tumescence, however, even managing to stiffen into a characteristic rigor. This, too, sapped his resistance to Gretchen's skill.

For her part, Gretchen was perplexed. Someone had told her that men's penises behaved like this. Now she'd seen it for herself.

She released Ray Ray. They both stood. Ray Ray's cock stood straight out, unapologetically seeking the liquid warmth of her aforementioned chasm. Gretchen abruptly turned and trotted away, re-donning her swim shorts as she tiptoed thru the underbrush. She was breathless and disheveled. Why had Ray Ray introduced his naked penis into a wrestling match? What did that have to do with a competition she was inevitably destined to win? What was this strange, musky taste in her mouth?

Still, she felt an otherworldly emptiness and knew, somehow, that Ray Ray's dick was designed to mollify that hunger.

"I'd better ask somebody," she thought.

The following week Gretchen broke protocol and brought her best friend, Polly Lynn Bannister, to her meet up in the woods with Ray Ray. Polly Lynn was a couple years older than Gretchen. She was a stunning brunette with hair cascading deeply down her back and wispy freckles o?" Polly model of a woman.

Predictably, the young Negro was shocked at this breach of confidentiality. Spanning back a decade to childhood, their wrestling matches had always been a secret, something fun between the two of them. Not even Gretchen's brother knew of their meet-ups in the woods. Gretchen and Ray Ray wrestled and talked and laughed. Sometimes they caught frogs and snakes and put them together, screeching as the frogs scrambled to escape becoming a meal. All their years of athletic foreplay had led to this one?" Polly smirked.

"This is the boy you been tellin' me about? This one?" Polly smirked.

"Yes, this one. He's a good enough beast," Gretchen retorted.

"I seen him someplace before," Polly noted.

"Of course you seen him. He's ours. He lives on our place!" Gretchen said.

Like most whites of the day, Polly didn't consider that slaves had actual lives, not lives of consequence in any case. They were servants, little else. They only interacted with whites at the behest of the whites. If Gretchen hadn't mentioned Ray Ray, Polly would have been blithely unaware of his existence.

"You sure you gonna keep this to yourself?" Gretchen worried aloud.

"Girl! I said I wouldn't tell. And I won't. Let's have a look at it." Polly shot back.

"Show her, Ray Ray."

"Huh? Show her what?" Ray Ray asked.

"That thing in your pants. Show her."

"I ain't a-showin' dis gurl my dick!"

"Oh, jist pull it out. She ain't gon' say nuttin' to nobody. I already told her about it."

"What you done tole her?"

"I told her 'bout us rasslin'. An' I told her 'bout you gettin' hard sometimes."

"You gon' get me in trouble!" Ray Ray expostulated.

"I ain't gon' tell on you boy," Polly interrupted. "Jist lemme see what she been braggin' about."

"Brag’n? I ain't been braggin'! I jist, I jis," flustered Gretchen.

"Let's see it, Ray Ray." Polly smirked.

Reluctantly, Ray Ray flumped his penis from his pantaloons. It was already thick with anticipation, yet just now was receding. One could almost see the erectile blood rushing back into his body as fear of Grethen's unannounced friend took hold.

"It's usually a lot bigger'n this, Polly." Gretchen allowed.

"I should guess so." Polly replied. "I seen black cocks his age with dicks as long as your forearm. It's God's way of repayin' 'em for bein' our slaves. Some 'um swing like a elephant trunk runnin'. Ain't nuttin' out'n the way about this un, though."

"My dick ain't li'l!" Ray Ray snuffled.

"Who said it was?" Polly retorted. "I jist said other black boy's dicks is bigger, is all."

"Well, Miss Polly, if you like I can make it as big as you please." Ray Ray offered.

"Oh you can, can you? Well do it, Mr. Smartie. Let's see you make it happen."

Ray Ray gripped his dick and began to stroke it for the white girls. This staunched the receding blood flow. His dick thickened and lengthened. In less than a minute, Ray Ray's cock stood proudly erect before them.

"See? I told you!" said Gretchen.

"Well, it's bigger'n what it was a minute ago. I still seen bigger. Paul Gaston's Peter is bigger'n that. And he's white!"

"You bad thing! When did you see Paul Gaston's peter rabbit?" Gretchen giggled.

"I told you about that. I done it to him that weekend. You remember? Rev. Jefferson was doin' the big Revival meetin'? An' we sneaked off?"

"Oh yeah! But wait a minute! How'd you see his peter rabbit? You said y'all did it from behind with your clothes on!"

"Well, I ain't actual see it. But I felt it goin' in. An' it felt a lot bigger than this blackie's dick I'm seeing here."

"Oh, you jist makin' up stories to make me feel bad. Maybe your pooty was smaller that day an' it just felt like his poker was bigger'n it really was."

"I know a big un when I see 'em an' when I feel 'em. An' this one's okay. It ain't nuttin' special, though." Polly drawled.

"Is you gon' he'p me with this boy’s dick or ain't you?" Gretchen finally asked.

This brightened Ray Ray's outlook some. He'd begun to wonder if this was some dick measuring competition designed to make him come up short. Too, he began to wonder after Polly's intentions and her rationale for being there.

"You gon' let him put it up in you? For real?" Polly smirked.

"I will if you will," Gretchen conceded.

"You know I will. Dicks don't skeer me none, white or colored."

Ray Ray's heart skipped a beat. Both?

"Well, don't let him pee in you. I want him to pee in me this time," Gretchen commented. Neither girl seemed conflicted by such bold conversation, especially insofar as Ray Ray's consent had yet to be considered.

"Girl! I keep telling you: that’s not pee. Pee is yellow. Don't you know anything?" Gretchen taunted.

With that, Polly began to shed her clothing. By the time her tits popped out both Ray Ray and Gretchen were transfixed. Ray Ray had never actually seen a white woman's tits before. Polly's nipples were pink, not black like those of most black women he'd seen.

"Well?" Polly paused. "Are you gonna just stand there and stare? Take your clothes off, boy."

This broke Ray Ray's spell. He hurriedly doffed his simple cotton tunic and shorts. Presently he stood fully naked. His penis lurched upwards with each new visual exposure to Polly's nakedness.

"You, too." Polly ordered Gretchen.

Soon enough all three were butt naked.

"What now?" Gretchen asked hopefully.

Polly shook her head contemptuously after the manner of a good friend whose best friend has just asked the stupidest question ever in the history of the universe. She started to kneel before Ray Ray but quickly thought of a better opening.

"Come here, Ray Ray. get down here. On your knees."

Ray Ray complied. Polly stepped to him, leading with her vagina. Ray Ray noted that Polly's pussy wasn't nearly as hairy as other pussies he'd seen. Here she was, the eldest of the three, and her pussy looked like a youngster's, it was just now growing in. It was dotted with raven black nubs along the edges. Longer silky black hairs ran up and down the line of her slit, giving the distinct impression of an incoming cleft-beard. Moreover, Polly's pubic outline grew in the perfect shape of a heart. She bore no perimeter stragglers. Her pussy looked handcrafted, too perfect to be real. Ray Ray glanced over at Gretchen's lush auburn forest. The two triangles could not have been more differently arrayed.

"Don't be shy. Lick it." came Polly's order from above. She thrust her cleft towards his nose.

Ray Ray noted Polly's vaginal contours again, these just inches from his nose. Her abdomen was pleasingly flat. It tapered down into a luxuriant vulva that bulged slightly from Polly's profile before scooting under into her rump. He could see Polly's hipbones protruding through the roundness of her hips. Her pussy didn't resonate like that of any pussy he'd ever sniffed. It smelled tidy. Perfumed. Elegant.

Timidly, Ray Ray closed his eyes. He poked out his tongue. Polly nudged her pussy forward. She rested her clit against the tip of his tongue.

"See? He'd like us to do this to him," she said to Gretchen, who stood by, eyes wide with wonder. "But let's let him do us first. Come on over here. You'll like this. It feels good. Better'n all that dry humpin', anyway."

She began to roil her pussy slit against Ray Ray's tongue in small, jerking circlets. When the young man displayed hesitance, she gripped the back of his head and pulled his face back to her mound. She began to hump his mouth with an increasingly exaggerated vehemence, as if her clit possessed leverage, drawing her ass back slowly before firing it forward aggressively. Her vulva's five o'clock shadow scraped his chin. Gretchen, who'd yet to ever feel skin-to-skin contact against her vagina (other than her own hand), looked on with awe.

"Come on, over, Gretchen," Polly huffed. "Take your turn. I'm, I'm almost."

Gretchen didn't move. Polly seemed to be in the grip of an ague. As he licked her cunt, Ray Ray's dick lurched upward from between his kneeling thighs. Each time Polly arched her slit along the tip of his tongue Ray Ray's dick bounced comically. Gretchen suppressed a giggle at the sight.

Polly stepped back from Ray Ray. Her body spasms made her movements seem strained. Her eyes were unfocused. She trembled like an elderly matron. Her hips juked with unpredictable jags. Gretchen noticed that Polly's clitoris bounced in unison with Ray Ray's unwettened cock, all pink and jiggly.

"Okay, your, turn," Polly mumbled as wavelets of tremble encumbered her body.

Gretchen looked down at Ray Ray. He was still kneeling. The prospect of Gretchen's sex stabilized his bouncing cock some. It protruded from between his thighs with barely a wobble.

Gretchen felt her canyon aching. This was the thickness that had so roused her passions. It wasn't meant to be on her. It was meant to be in her.

She looked back to Polly. The girl was still jagging from contact with Ray Ray's tongue. Yet his dick was ten times bigger. Gretchen's pussy snapped tight at the size disparity.

With a little trepidation, Gretchen stepped up to face the kneeling black boy. Her hairy pussy was in his face, fragrant with anticipation. He ignored this, choosing to look up at her face with a glance that pleaded "Is this what you really want?"

They both knew that Gretchen's time had come. She didn't want tongue. She wanted something more. She touched his cheek with her fingertips and returned this unspoken realization with her eyes. Ray Ray lowered onto his ass and laid back on the floor.

Slowly, she knelt straddling him, carefully positioning her vagina for intrusion. Ray Ray's cock pronged straight up, aware of her descent. Gretchen held onto Ray Ray's shoulders for balance. When finally she felt his bulbous cockhead at her entrance she paused for the briefest of instants. There would be no turning back. This wasn't wrestling.

She knelt further and, as his cock peeled her open she felt the same tremors that so afflicted her friend Polly. Down, down and further down still she crouched until Ray Ray's cock filled her completely and her golden hairy pussy lips kissed his nappy pubic mound. She'd been told that this first intrusion would be painful. It was not.

It was delightful.

She withdrew slowly. Her joy at being so coupled built and doubled. She lowered herself onto him again. The feeling of sexual ecstasy quickly began to blister Gretchen into Polly's realm. She raised up and probed downward once, then twice more. Suddenly, she felt a steaming hot wetness pouring from Ray Ray. An explosion of light, heat and sound invested her entire body, propelling Gretchen into the glory of her first penile orgasm. The two conjoined lovers united with Polly in the Kingdom of Prurience. There they withstood the flashing lights, the zoom and the sway for as long at they might before collapsing to the grass beneath.

As usual, Gretchen was on top.

"Dang. That was quick," observed Polly dryly.

She watched as Ray Ray's semen drained from Gretchen's cunt, coating his balls in milky seepage. She could see his testicles seize up periodically as he pumped the remaining drippings of his seed into the big white girl.

"It don't look like I'm gon' get a turn," Polly remarked.

This challenge brought Ray Ray around. The prospect of doin' it to two white girls in the same day tweaked his ardor. He tapped Gretchen on her butt. She seemed oblivious to Polly Lynn's comments. In fact, she looked to be on the verge of sleep.

"Hey," he whispered. "Hey! Miss Gretchen!"

Gretchen snapped her head awake. She was still absentmindedly grinding her pussy against his cock, only in smaller, post-coital, less frantic circlets.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Miss Polly say she want to get her turn," he whispered.

Gretchen took a deep breath. She looked over her shoulder at Polly standing there, arms crossed, tapping her feet diffidently. Gretchen leaned back a little from atop Ray Ray's dick. It felt spongy and soft inside her. She looked down the line of her torso to see it still lingering there, trapped between her labia. She arched her pelvis a little more and watched as his dick oozed from her pussy, inch by inch, like a fat slug pouring thru a posthole. Finally it flopped out

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sun, 11 Oct 2026 18:49:00 +0000

Janice Battles Her Slutty Nature

By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Blue Jenkins worked as a field hand on Hank Leone's farm in Northeast Louisiana. He was a slave. Now in his late-twenties, Blue had been purchased from the Jenkins Farm for a nominal sum two decades back and retained the Jenkins' family name. Blue was tall, muscular, possessed of a pleasing cinnamon complexion, a dazzling smile and a square jaw. He had a hairy breast; his head was shaved bald. In deference to his complexion, Blue's friends called him "Red".

Except for his golden mien, Blue looked a lot like Charlie Leone, the nineteen-year-old cock-of-the-walk on Nathan Leone's farm.

Unbeknownst to both, Blue was Charlie's older half brother, the product of a tryst between their father Meshach Leone and Dora Jenkins, a biracial slave, some years back. Meshach never really knew his eldest son. He never had any hand in raising him, though the boy grew up five farms away. He'd seen Blue once or twice over the years. Those occasions meant little. Blue wouldn't know Meshach from a rock in the sea.

Nevertheless, Blue did inherit something of value from his father, a monster cock. This, along with his gallant good looks and his badboy smile, made the cinnamon-hued young man a much-desired commodity. Blue's haul of pubic scalps was double that of his younger half-brother. More, his harem stretched across several farms in the area and included a number of middle-aged white church matrons.

Janice Leone, Hank Leone's crimson haired eldest daughter, recently turned eighteen, noticed Blue working around their farm before but paid him scant attention.

"He is a blackie, after all."

She'd even seen him naked once as he was washing up after a workday. His cock was huge, his bulging musculature equally as impressive. Jannie had been chatting with a gaggle of black girls who chirped and giggled at the vision of Blue's nakedness. Blue noticed the girls ogling him and turned so that they all could get a full on glance at his lumbering member. He wasn't ashamed of it. He reckoned most of these girls were going to see it up close one day, anyway.

Janice recalled that hot afternoon. She remembered being amused by the reaction of the black girls to Blue's nakedness. They were falling all over themselves! For a blackie! Who would have thought it?

In light of recent events, however, Blue seemed to be the answer to her prayers. Since her recent visit to Uncle Nathan's farm (where she had her first encounter with a black man's dick), Jannie had become afflicted with the "blackie taint", that wild, seething, unseemly lust white women get for the lumbering penises of unwashed Negro slaves. She was tired of walking around with this unquenched burn in her crotch. Masturbation didn't cool the fires. Neither did her brother Jake's tempestuous but quick late night excursions. And now here, this good-looking, bald-headed blackie was walking around all day with an un-fucked elephant trunk percolating in his pantaloons?

"Good-looking"? Did she actually just say that about a blackie?

It was undeniable. Blue was a looker. Too, she'd referred to him as "un-fucked". This was true in one respect. Whilst Blue had fucked just about all the women on that farm, he hadn't fucked Janice.

"Well, that's about to change." Jannie noted with grim determination.

Her logic was unassailable. One, she already had the blackie taint, so one more blackie dick couldn't hurt. Two, her Auntie Beth claimed to have the cure, so whatever additional taint she acquired from Blue would be nullified after her auntie came through with the goods. Three, she was horny as shit 24x7. And four, walking around with a goddam wooden ball up her puss just wasn't making it.

Jannie cornered Blue in the root cellar late one afternoon after having given him orders to retrieve some ice potatoes. Prior to that, she'd hidden the ice potatoes so that Blue might spend an inordinate amount of time in the root cellar looking for them, just long enough for onlookers to forget he was in there. Twenty minutes later she followed him in.

Blue noted her silhouette in the doorframe.

"I cain't find 'em, Miss Janice. I've looked everywhere," he offered, in that mewling tone that slaves disingenuously used with whites of the day.

Jannie closed and locked the cellar door behind her. She boldly shed her dress to stand naked before him. Her crimson triangle glowed eerily in the gloom contrasted against her alabaster skin. Her breasts pouted jauntily; her pink nipples were already erect. She exuded the ethereal scent of a woman who has taken a fully naked bath in the pussy of another fully naked woman.

Blue wasn't any newcomer to The Game. Women cornered him alone more than just occasionally. He was neither surprised nor perplexed by Jannie's actions. She knew them damn ice potatoes weren't in there when she'd sent him in. Blue dropped the slave mewl tone.

"She just tryna be slick."

He turned to face her, saying nothing. His level gaze bespoke his true masculinity.

"Well?" she said aloud.

Confidently, Blue unbuckled his trousers and dropped them. His lengthy penis did, in fact, resemble an elephant's trunk. It rolled outward from his pelvis like an archer's bow and arced forward in a curved line such that his cockhead curled under perfectly to laze between his thighs, just inches above his knees.

Blue crossed his arms. His penis swung back and forth like a clock pendulum. The burly black man made no move to approach her.

Jannie curled her small fist into a standard male masturbatory pose and jerked it back and forth in front of her fire apple pussy. Her tits wobbled. She was ordering him to initiate his own erection. With a knowing smirk, Blue willingly complied. In seconds, his dick rose up from its flaccidity to become a steely, uncircumcised golden beast, raging for succor.

Jannie was amazed.

"Now that's a dick," she mused.

Indeed, the cock preening before her exceeded any she'd encountered previously. She couldn't grip it with one hand. She doubted that she could grip it entirely with two.

Jannie moved forward as if in a trance, fixated on Blue's transcendently spiring dick. It seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room. She could feel pulsing pressure waves from it, seething hot, throbbing with virility. She could smell its manly, musky scent in her bones.

A tremor escaped her pussy and melted away into fuck vapor.

When she'd halved the distance between them, Janice suddenly rushed forward, pushed him back and slammed him against the wall. She gave a little hop, felt his thickness probing past her feathery pubic jungle, felt it slide up into her fragrant wetness without bothering to take aim. She twirled herself easily around his girth, surprising them both. Blue usually had to work to get it in. So tense was she that, as he tapped her cervix, Jannie climaxed. She gave an agonized silent howl than might have awakened the dead, if she'd seen fit to give voice to her sexual derangement. Such voiceless orgasms were the common currency of interracial sexual liaisons in the South.

She didn't linger about enjoying this early detonation, either. She reckoned it to be the first of many. Jannie began to fuck Blue with the frenzy of the damned. She planned to use his mammoth golden cock to punish the blackie taint that had tormented her so. Huge power shots and quick, flittering trills dominated her assault. She draped her arms about his neck and humped him fiendishly, standing on her tiptoes, grinding her vagina as far down his shaft as she could wetten. She grabbed his head and kissed him square on the mouth, then she latched onto his neck and sucked first one purple hickey then another, all the while quivering her pussy up and down the length of his huge, elephantine penis.

Jannie came again. And then yet again. If Blue's rigid penis hadn't supported her body weight, Janice would have collapsed to the ground in a heap. She was impaled. Her massive clit danced along his sticky, pussy-wettened shaft, sending spiraling jets of electricity coursing throughout her frame.

After her fourth orgasm, Jannie pushed Blue to his knees and fucked his face thru two more climactic cycles. She scrubbed her massive crimson bush about his lips, nostrils and cheeks. Her labia surged and suckled. These kissed the black man fervently, marking Blue's face with Jannie's turgid vaginal aroma.

Still unsated, Janice bent and offered her rounded ass up to him. Blue was amazed to see her fire-apple red pubic curls blazing past her sphincter and up the crack of her ass, each lock sloppy wet with her pussy juice. Undeterred by this great, sticky Jheri curl of pubic fur, he fucked Jannie's asshole dry, agonizing over its heated friction. When he finally erupted his cooling jism caused her bowels to sizzle with the crackle of cold water splashed into a white-hot frying pan. Jannie slumped forward and flopped to the ground, exhausted. Every ganglion in her body shrieked with vibrance.

With some effort, Blue pulled his cock from Jannie's ass. It stretched, thwacked back awkwardly and then wobbled crazily in the cool darkness of the root cellar. Semen dripped from his pee-hole. A silky wisp of steam condensed around his shaft and oozed away silently into the darkness. Riotous explosions of sexual odor assaulted their olfactories, weaving exotic panoramas in their brains.

Jannie's world spun about. The rushing winds of sexual completion assailed her tumultuously. Semen fizzled from her asshole like carbonated soda and dripped to the ground, coagulating into a large, bubbly puddle. Jannie was enshrouded in bliss.

Finally her breathing quieted. She flexed her pelvic muscles to see if the blackie taint intended another flare up.

It gave no indication.

Encouraged, Jannie rose discreetly and dressed. She peeked out the door and, seeing no one, scurried out.

Blue was long gone.

Her opening "Well?" had been the only word spoken between them.

Is it an addiction?

For six days after her encounter with Blue, Jannie's sexual burn receded into irrelevance. She cheerfully went about her daily chores. She contributed to dinnertime conversations without any undue tight-lipped strain. She fucked her brother occasionally but with none of her earlier vehemence. She didn't have to hunt him down for dick. Her smooth wooden masturbation ball was a distant memory.

In short, she became Jannie again.

On the seventh day after the Blue tryst, Jannie began to wonder after her hibernating libido. Where was it? She'd fucked her brother Jake several times in the interim, true, but she hadn't cum during any single encounter. She enjoyed the feel of her brother's dick riding in and out of her pussy much as a child enjoys playing on a swing set. It was exhilarating. When he came and his hot jism bubbled up and oozed out of her pussy, there was no reciprocal explosion on her part. She only got a sloppy, sticky ass from the experience and a cold wet spot to sleep in. Jake got all the joy.

"What happened to my blackie taint?" she wondered.

Immediately thereafter she chastened herself.

"Good riddance!" she chortled.

Before her encounter with Isaac at Uncle Nathan's farm she'd had a normal sex drive. She fucked a lot. Sometimes she came. Sometimes she didn't.

After that encounter (and until her rendezvous with Blue) she came repeatedly, so often that it became a painful annoyance. The 'blackie taint' left her tangerine pussy in a constant state of arousal.

The tryst with Blue had been amazing. He was a bit older than she, handsome, well hung and discreet. He'd cooled the insatiable ardor that had plagued her for weeks.

Trouble was, he seemed to have put it out entirely. The Burn was gone. She hadn't had an explosive orgasm in a week. Was this the anti-blackie taint? She didn't want to cum all the time, but she did want to cum sometimes.

What's the point of fucking if you can't bust a nut?

She'd seen Blue a time or two since then, too. He'd been affable without being familiar. He acted as if nothing had occurred between them. He'd even fielded flirtatious solicitations from passing black women while Jannie was present, which caused Jannie to pink up in jealousy. How did these sassy black bitches know that Blue wasn't her kept blackie?

Of course, they couldn't know, and could never know. Jannie didn't then realize that a sense of possession, entitlement, is always one of the first consequences of engaging in sexual intercourse. That realization only comes with age and experience. She just knew that she felt disrespected by the incessant flirtations that were part and parcel of Blue's daily routine. His legendary cocksmanship drew the fillies like flies.

Janice approached Blue one afternoon and asked him to bring some ice potatoes up to the big house, and to take his time doing it. Janice knew he would catch her meaning.

When she stepped into the root cellar twenty minutes later, Blue was already naked. His penis was splendidly erect.

Jannie smiled.

"No, Blue. This ain't what I meant. Well, it ain't what I meant for right now. There's too many people around. They might hear us. Put your clothes back on."

Reluctantly Blue reached for his trousers.

"Wait a minute!" she said.

She skipped over to him and took his penis into her mouth. She hadn't blown him in their earlier encounter. She wanted to hold the taste of that special bond in her remembrance.

She wettened his dick with some difficulty. Jannie couldn't get much more than his pud into her mouth. It was as thick as her fist. She gaped wide to accommodate him, flickering her tongue out to tickle his urethral valley and the shroud of his foreskin. She tried to slip her tongue into his peehole.

Blue moved to grip her head with both hands. She stopped him.

"Not right now, Blue," she said. "I want you to come up to my room, in the big house, later tonight. Real late. OK? I'll leave the door open."

Blue was confused.

"In de big house?"

"Yes."

In that instant Jannie remembered something. Her brother Jake might have designs on her pussy tonight, too. Unlike their cousins Annie and Ben, Jake and Janice slept in separate rooms. Jake slept in the loft alone. He had to sneak downstairs to claim his nightly due, then sneak back upstairs before dawn. It wouldn't do for Blue to show up while Jake was being stupefied by Jannie's sexual siren.

"Wait," she said. "I'll put a rag on my doorknob. If you see the rag, it's OK to come in. If not, you need to hide in the front room closet until I come for you. OK? And don't make no noise."

She slobbed his dick again for good measure, then stood and scurried out.

Janice's earlier trepidations proved prescient. Jake did, in fact, sneak downstairs for his nightly due. As with their cousins, there was little planning or preamble to their sex, certainly no kissing or conversation. Jake simply crept into Jannie's room with a big boner. If she was already asleep, he tapped her cheek with his cock to awaken her. Jannie then either sucked him off or fucked him off. Or both.

This night she chose the former.

"Blue's dick is three times as thick as this," she speculated as Jake roiled his penis in her throat.

Jake came in her mouth, then melted into her bed, as per his habit. She lay quietly next to him awaiting his recovery. In twenty minutes he would awaken and have a go at her pussy, she knew. She had a cure for that. Jan needed to have a fresh puss for Blue to soil.

Twenty minutes later, Jake awakened abruptly to every young man's dream. His re-hardened cock was deep in his sister's throat. Her freckled face bobbed up and down on it luxuriantly. Evidently, she'd been blowing him for some time. Her saliva bubbled up frothily around his base. It dripped from her lips. Jake was well past plateau. Just as the cognition of time and space returned to the lad, a second orgasmic eruption wracked his body, this one decisive. Jake held the back of Jan's head tightly as he pumped blob after blob of semen into her throat. His hips churned spasmodically. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream of agony. He threw his head back into the cock-induced blindness afforded by a premium knobjob.

Before Jake could pass out, Jannie scooped him aloft and walked him out her door and over to the loft ladder. His penis still waggled and spurted. She couldn't carry him up, but she pushed him to climb with a series of strident whispers about the dangers of being caught asleep in her room on the morrow. They'd been down this path before. Jake climbed up mechanically without questioning her motives. Long, wispy contrails of semen drifted down the ladder in his wake.

When the trap door closed behind him, Jannie whisked over to the closet and found Blue, as she'd expected.

"Hurry!" she whispered.

Half dragged, Blue stumbled into her room.

"Did you, did you just do de nasty wit' yo' brother?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't be silly," she replied. "We were talking about something and he fell asleep. I knew you were coming so I woke him up and sent him off to bed."

Blue was not fooled so easily. The scent of semen wafted in the air. A man knows the scent of jism when he smells it, and especially knows when the scent is mixed with spittle and/or pussy froth.

Blue began removing his clothing.

"Wait, Blue. I asked you here because, because, well, I want to talk to you about something."

Blue ignored her. They were going to fuck. He wanted to be sufficiently naked when they did. Besides, they'd never talked before. Why talk now? He didn't even know this cracker bitch.

"Blue, last week when we done it, I, I wanted you to know. I, I don't usually do that," Janice opened.

Blue thought to himself: "Sho' you don't."

What came out of his mouth was: "Yes'm."

Jannie continued: "I, I was having some troubles. An', an' I took advantage of you. You ain't did nothin' wrong."

Blue thought to himself: "Right."

What came out of his mouth was: "Yes'm."

"I, I wanted to ask you something, OK?"

Blue thought to himself: "Bitch, get to de point."

What came out of his mouth was: "Yes'm?"

"Blue, is you never heard of 'the blackie taint'?"

Blue was genuinely surprised. This opening gambit was certainly unexpected.

"De blackie taint?" he asked.

"Yes. The blackie taint," she said.

"Ain't dat what happens to white womens when dey does de nasty wit' blackies?"

"Yes," she affirmed.

"Is d'ass what you gots, Miss Janice?"

"I, I don't rightly know. I, I think I had it. And then I done it wit' you. An' it went away. So I ain't sure what it is."

"It went away? But you want to do de nasty again? 'N get it back?"

"I, I, want to do 'de nasty'. With you. Tonight. Because, well, I, I, when I had the blackie taint I could, you know, umm, cum. An' I ain't been able to, cum, since you an' me did it."

"Why, Miss Jannie, dat ain't de blackie taint. De blackie taint is when you cain't do but have a blackie's dick up in you. Black girls get de blackie taint, too, sometimes, 'n it most drives 'em crazy. You just did it wit' Massuh Jake, so, "

"I told you I ain't did it with Jakie. Don't you dare think I did. I didn't."

"Yes'm."

He was properly chastened. Jannie be

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sat, 10 Oct 2026 18:48:00 +0000

The Belles Share A Well-Endowed Slave

Can any of the gals take all of Charlie?

By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The coming of the morning sun brought yet another righteously gorgeous summer day to the Louisiana backwoods. Ivory woodpeckers raised a chatter with their monotonous tapping. Bullfrogs thundered their deep mating calls. A riot of insects buzzed and chittered in their perpetual war of survival. Roosters crowed in the distance. Birds of every stripe hailed the dawning of the sun.

The first hint of light found Charles Nelson Leone, a slave, gingerly wending his way through the forest brush, intent on fulfilling his promise to Nathan Leone's eldest daughter Abby, whose visit was specifically tailored to include a tryst between them. Abby was several years older than Charlie. Her husband, Buck Harkness, was visiting too.

Abigail Harkness, Annette and Janice Leone were already down at the spring. Two blankets were laid out neatly on the grassy sward. Their clothes were folded neatly on one blanket. The cousins were swimming and splashing about fully nude.

Charlie heard their joyous laughter ahead. He quickened his pace. He'd thought to be the first to arrive at this surreptitious rendezvous. He was wrong.

Charlie emerged from the woods to find the three white girls engaged in a splash fight. Their nakedness did not surprise him. He knew why he'd been invited. Charlie wore simple pantaloons and a cotton tunic.

Spying him, Abby called out, "I've been swimming in this spring with blackies a lot more naked than you, Charlie! Come on in!"

Janice, however, recoiled at his presence. She turned away from him, covering her breasts and crotch from his view.

Annie noticed this. She jostled her cousin. "Oh stop. It ain't like nobody ain't seen your fireapple patch before. You knowed he was comin'. You ain't got to fuck him, but you ought to consider growin' up about it. I'm gon' fuck him. You watch me."

Janice didn't know how to take this. She knew several white girls who'd fucked blackies. She'd always shunned them as slatterns and trollops. These two white girls, however, were her favorite cousins. They ought to know better. Their looseness with this scorching racial taboo troubled her greatly.

Still, there had to be something to this particular black boy that attracted her cousins. He was tall and slender, muscular and lithe. He had a square jaw and sensual lips. His nose was straight. His eyes were clear. While he was deferent to white people, he certainly didn't have that unpalatable mewling subservience typical of southern slaves.

He did have a big dick. That much was intriguing. If she did fuck him, and someone found out, she would die. Oh, she would just die! No. She couldn't do it. Could she?

As Janice struggled with her racial peccadilloes, Abby got down to the business at hand. She'd pulled Charlie from his clothing, jumped on his back and rode him into the water. She dunked him (he let her). Then Annie and Abby ganged up on the black boy and forced him to back down from a splash war (he let them).

"Come on, Jannie! Get him!"

Janice offered up one or two half-hearted splashes. Each time she did, however, she exposed either her breasts or her vulva. It didn't matter that Charlie was blinded by the constant waves of water crashing into his eyes. Janice was still muddling through the cultural racial conflict in her mind.

As in his first encounter with Annie, Charlie laughingly chased the two white girls around the spring. He'd catch first one, then the other. Each capture would result in a struggle and end when the other girl crashed up and assaulted him with splashing waves. Then Charlie would drop his first captive and chase the other.

They played like this for ten or fifteen minutes. With each successive capture, the trio found ways to surreptitiously grab each other's loins and/or breasts, or to rub their loins together and pretend the connection to be purely accidental. This was foreplay.

And yet each time dick touched pussy it lingered just a little too long. Their feigned animus resulted in erotic positioning that lasted just a bit too long, also. Too often their water wrestling ended up in the missionary or the doggie-style or the oral positions. Once or twice Abby even found Charlie's nostrils clenched in her butt cheeks as his lips nuzzled her clit from behind.

All this faux foreplay achieved the desired effect. By degrees, Charlie's erection bloomed. He made no move to hide it. As they played like children in the water, his dick flopped and swayed comically, as a disjointed lever pinned perpendicularly to a board. Sometimes Abby would grab him by this lever and pull him around in the water. Sometimes Annie made this move. Sometimes both girls tackled him, simulating doggie style sex on him or humping his face. Then they would laughingly jump away.

Janice stood off from all this unseemly foreplay. They looked like they were having fun, but, .how would it look if someone caught them?

Tiring of these childish games, Abby and Annie dragged the soaked boy from the water (he let them). They pulled him up on the sward and pinned his shoulders to one of the blankets (he let them).

Charlie's towering erection spired majestically from this supine position.

"Hold his shoulders down, Annie. I'm about to teach this young blackie some respect!" laughed Abby.

Annie sat astride Charlie's chest. She pressed his shoulders down with her knees. Her naked, sopping pussy stared him directly in the face.

Abby straddled him too, facing away, cowboy-style. She squatted, lowering herself upon him by degrees, until finally she touched his cock tip. She lingered there momentarily, swaying her bottom sensually as if spiraling into a whirlpool. In this wise Charlie entered her, spreading her wider and ever wider as her auburn mound coalesced around his black thickness.

Abby groaned tortuously. "He's so thick!" she reflected.

And as Charlie eased further into the depths of her pussy, she thought "And he's long, too!"

No man had ever been this deep inside Abby's core. Charlie certainly wasn't a boy any more. He sported a man's dick. Indeed, after an interminable spiral into oblivion, Abby's bottom spread wide across Charlie's pelvis. She had hilted him. No inches of dick base peeked out from between Abby's clasping auburn snatch. Charlie's monster cock disappeared completely inside her vagina.

Abby trembled with delight. Her clit expanded and palpitated against the base of Charlie's pulsating dick. She gripped him in place, rotating her ass in a series of tightly concentric circlets, grinding her sphincter against his kinky pubic mound.

Abby's moans growled up from deep in her stomach. Annie, who sat astride Charlie's chest with her back to her sister, had never heard her groan this richly or sensually before. Charlie smiled up at Annie from between her legs. He winked at her.

"Oh, you think this is funny, hey?" Annie smirked. "Okay, try this!"

Annie scooched forward to press her pussy into his mouth. Now she began to hump his face, slowly at first, but with increasing ardor. Abby, too, soon released her grind-lock on Charlie's base and began to hump him. She waggled her ass back and forth as she cruised up and down his cock from stem to stern.

The sisters might have tried to synchronize their assault on the boy, but Abby had a great deal more length to contend with. Whereas Annie could sate herself with quick, short, rabbit-like thrusts, Abby had to luxuriate in each tremulous stroke astride the length of Charlie's stunning cock.

A dark cloud of heat lightning began to formulate behind Annie's eyelids. She was approaching climax. It didn't take long for a thick, wet tongue to get the best of Annie.

Abby wasn't far behind. She found that swirling Charlie's cockhead around with her labia was intensely gratifying. A similar move on the downstroke elicited fresh bolts of heat lightning rocketing off the walls of Abby's cranium, too.

The girls began to verbalize their passions with strident vulgarities.

Abby: "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"

Annie: "Lick it lick it lick it lick it lick it lick it lick it lick it. Lick it!"

Abby: "Oh! Oh! Oh! Go Hard, Charlie. Hit it!"

Annie: "Ah! Oh fuck! I'm almost there. Lick! Oh, Fuck. Lick!"

Jannie looked on with a mixture of lust and disgust. She could have some of this dick, right now, this morning, if she wanted. But Charlie was a an owned boy! What if someone found out?

She crept up to get a closer view of the action.

Abby's orgasm snapped tight upon her. She drew breath in whooping gasps. Her body shivered and quaked. She slammed her ass down on Charlie and grinded his cock into her pussy relentlessly. She arched and howled. It was quite a spectacle.

Annie, too, spilled her frothy cum into Charlie's mouth as he suckled and nibbled at her labia. At the height of her orgasmic derangement, Charlie's tongue was so far up her cooze it felt like a small, hot, many-faceted, pliable dick. She humped it with fierce passion. This was her black boy.

Abby slumped forward in exhaustion. She bent over double, resting her cheeks on Charlie's calves. Charlie was still fully hard inside her. He hadn't climaxed. He wasn't even breathing deeply. The strength and power of his churning cock seemed to lift her entire body up as it struggled for the proper angle of insertion. Abby was totally spent.

She felt a small hand on her ass. It wasn't Charlie. It was Annie.

"Abby? Can you scooch up a bit? It's my turn."

Abby groaned. With a supreme effort, she drew up her knees, raised her ass and allowed Charlie's dick to spring free of her pussy. It crashed with a thud against his stomach, then careened back to full mast.

Annie again gave Abby another tender nudge. Abby complied. With another immense effort, she rolled over onto the blanket to lie next to Charlie. His feet were beside her head. She didn't have the strength to reverse positions.

Annie straddled Charlie and lowered herself onto his dick in circlets as Abby had done earlier. Whereas Abby chose the reverse cowgirl mount, Annie faced her charge from the dominant missionary position. Hobbled from her cunnilingual orgasm, Annie still had enough energy and common sense to not let a hard dick go to waste.

She engulfed as much of his dick as she could. Then she leaned forward so that she lay directly atop the boy. Their nipples touched. She took Charlie's head in the crook of her arm, looked him directly in the eyes. She established this soulful connection, then she began to fuck him. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly.

She hilted him, lingered for a moment with a pungent grind, then arched upwards so that her ass was unnaturally aloft. She thought she might lose her pussy's grip on his surging love muscle, but she never did. She knew better than Abby that Charlie liked to fuck in this manner. Holding his gaze while massaging his cock inside her was pivotal to the effect. The opulently squishy sounds of their fucking overwhelmed the vibrant natural sounds of the surrounding glade.

Too, Annie was determined to make Charlie cum. When the stories were later told about this encounter, she would have that much to lord over Abby. Abby hadn't made him come. That would be the main selling point about whose pussy was better.

Janice looked on, fascinated. Just seeing this sexual performance left her disheveled and torn. She'd fucked her brother and a couple of the boys from church. None of those performances matched these. Her pussy gushed with moisture. A deep warmth roiled upward from her lower abdomen.

Janice stood up. For the first time, Charlie could see her thick red bush and her demitasse titties. Yet Charlie wasn't really paying attention. He was lost in Annie's direct, blue-eyed gaze and the melted-hot butter steaming up and down his pole. Every muscle in his body was focused on the sensations dancing about his loins. Annie felt him flex and tremble as his orgasm percolated.

Charlie struggled to suppress his ejaculate. He'd made himself a promise that he was going to fuck all three Leone girls this morning. It wouldn't do for him to bust his nuts in Annie and leave Janice unsullied. No, if anyone was going to bust a nut here, it was Annie. Then we'd all see about Miss Prissy the Red over there. He wasn't going to ask her for it. She was going to offer it to him. And he had half a mind to tell her no, too!

And yet Annie's pussy was so good!

As Annie lurched upwards, she clenched her pussy walls to drag his foreskin up and over his pud. Annie had a way of gulping at his cockhead with her pussy, stroking the hyper sensitive underside of his dick for the hot, sticky lotion therein. She had a way of telling him (with her eyes) "I'm going to suck all of the jism out of your nuts and keep it for myself. And there's nothing you can do about it, Mr. Gargantuan."

Annie had that look in her eyes this very minute. "I got you now. Give it to me."

Charlie quavered on the verge of surrender. He struggled to rein in his ejaculate. He ached from the effort. In a moment, though, his semen would explode volcanically with enough force to launch Annie from her perch.

"Umm, Annie?"

It was Janice.

Annie ignored her. She was focused on milking a great burst of jism from her man.

Jannie's loins had finally overcome her racial bias.

"Annie? Umm, Annie? Can I, umm, can I try him?"

This shocking request broke Annie's concentration. She looked up at Janice in genuine surprise. This interlude also broke the psychic bond between the conjoined lovers. Charlie's will to suppress his ejaculate strengthened.

"Sure, Jannie! You want him right now? You can't wait until I finish? I'm almost done," she huffed breathlessly.

"Umm, well, you don't have to stop what you're doing. I thought, I thought maybe I could do, what you did earlier?"

Annie was confused.

"What's that?"

Janice summoned her courage.

"Maybe I could, umm, sit on; you know, sit down, on his face, you know; while you're doing that?

This admission caused both Annie and Abby to erupt in laughter. Still recovering from her earlier orgasm, Abby raised up on her elbows to observe how this conversation would play out.

"Sure, Jannie! Come on over!"

Annie raised her tits up off of Charlie's torso to afford access to the boy's face. She squeezed his dick with her puss. Abby, too, sat up from her position beside them.

Janice was unsure how to proceed. She hesitated, as if debating the proper method of squatting over a man's face.

Charlie used this pause to size her up. Jannie had a foamy mass of curly red hair. Her face was covered with freckles, which drifted down the line of her neck and spread across her shoulders, back, and arms. Her glowing thatch of fiery red pubic hair was double Annie's volume of same. She was slender, graced with a slim waistline and an ample bottom, though not as ample as Annie's. Her armpits, too, were laden with deep clusters of curly red fur. Her breasts were supple without being ponderous. Her legs were long and lithe.

Was she fuckable? Yes. She was.

This deliberate assessment enabled Charlie to pull back from the edge of the orgasmic chasm. He was going to fuck this scarlet princess. Today.

Charlie remained erect under the lascivious assault of Annie's twat.

Timidly, Janice stepped up to the black boy. Every fibre of her being screamed against broaching this rigid social taboo. And yet Abby had fucked him. She'd seen it for herself. And now Annie was fucking him. Neither girl seemed diminished by this horrible racial incursion. Maybe if she just let him lick her pussy it might take the edge off her rampant libido. Yes, that's it, just a pussy suck and nothing more.

Jannie straddled his face the way she'd seen Annie do. She squatted her pussy down to his lips unsteadily, tremulously, as if still torn by her racial mores. It seemed an age before she could feel his hot breath coursing breezily through her crimson jungle.

Jannie's clit sprang to attention.

Charlie watched Jannie's clit rise from her pubic mound. He was amazed. Annie had a big clit, but Jannie's clit laid over hers in every way. Annie couldn't see Charlie's face since Jannie's ass blocked her view. Abby (sitting off to the side) observed Charlie's expression of shock and disbelief. She flashed Annie a knowing look. Both of them liked to see the shocked expression on men's faces when Jannie's girly penis first bloomed aloft.

Jannie's pubic fur was a voluminous. If one didn't know better (and saw her naked profile), she looked as if she had a kangaroo pouch down there. Her clitoris poured forth distinctly from this sheathing. One didn't have to go looking for it. Charlie could close his lips completely around it and suck it like a dick.

Getting over his initial shock, that's exactly what he did. He started blowing her.

Janice went wild.

She stretched her body out across his face to grab handfuls of blanket. She drew her knees up and locked her ankles in his armpits. To Annie, viewing Jannie's crack from the dominant missionary position astride Charlie, Jannie's whole asshole was exposed. Jannie's fur patch covered her taint. It crept up the length of her butt crack, disappearing finally into her lower back.

Annie could see Jannie's puckered sphincter through that part of her dwindling forest. She saw it widen and contract spasmodically as Charlie sucked her clit. More, she could see Jannie's pussy quiver, strain and gape for attention. A good dick could easily fill either of those holes right now and have Jannie as a love slave for life.

With that a wicked thought came to mind. She winked at Abby.

"Watch this," she whispered.

Annie leaned forward from her perch atop Charlie's cock. Janice was busily humping Charlie's lips, lost in her own sexual ruminations. Her ass wobbled and swayed sensuously before her cousin. Annie leaned forward cautiously. As her intention became obvious, Abby suppressed a wild shriek of laughter. Annie moved closer and yet closer still. She timed Jannie's wild sexual gyrations to the second. Jannie's eyes were closed. She was driving towards her climax. She was lost in her own world.

Quick as an arrow, Annie hooked Jannie's thighs from behind, smashed her face into Jannie's ass and drew a long, luxurious, furry lick from Jannie's taint up the length of her ass crack.

Jannie let out a whoop that would wake the dead. Abby doubled over in laughter.

Jannie attempted to scramble away. Annie held her in place by her thighs.

"You said you wanted to get licked, my girlie. Hold still. I'll show you what 'lick' means."

Chuckling at Annie's intervention, Charlie re-asserted his lip-grip on Jannie's girly penis. Annie pressed her nose against Jannie's taint and began to lick her pussy and her asshole from the rear mount position.

This double tongue effect, in conjunction with the new sensation of ass licking, was well more than Jannie had anticipated. She floated in and out of consciousness, reaping orgasm after orgasm as the two seasoned cunnilinguists salaciously sucked and licked her nether regions.

Annie was still lurching up and down atop Charlie's shaft as Jannie trembled through one climactic explosion after another. She humped away at him expertly, while simultaneously slurping Jannie's hot, fragrant ass.

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Fri, 09 Oct 2026 18:48:00 +0000

Romping in the Glade

Ben & Charlie get visitors at the Spring.

By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

A week later Charlie and Annie's brother Ben sat by the edge of this same pool. Both boys were naked save for their raggedy grey shorts. Both boys were muscular farm hands, heady with the physicality of youth. Ben was a shade taller than Charlie, but Charlie's shoulders were wider. Rugged forced labor had hardened the black boy and forced him into pre-mature manhood.

They were fishing. Already they'd accumulated an admirable string of specks, bream, and even a couple of smallmouth bass.

The boys lazed along in silence, barely noticing their fishing jiggers. Charlie rolled some tobacco and lit it. He took several drags, then passed the stogie to Ben, who repeated the process.

Suddenly Ben's pole jumped. He grabbed it quickly and snatched another fat speck from the water.

"Dat's a nice one," noted Charlie.

Ben grinned. "That's eight to your five. I told you I was hot today!"

Ben bent his hook out of the fish's jaws. He ran the connected string of prior captives through the new fish's gills and out its mouth. Then he tossed the string of gasping fish back into the water at their feet.

The boys sat in silence for a time. They knew each other well. They'd hunted and played together since early childhood. They'd shared any number of heaving pubic scalps. They'd also shared each other's deepest secrets.

But Charlie had one secret he hadn't shared with Ben. He didn't know how Ben would react to the knowledge that he had boned Annette, Ben's younger sister, although Ben was aware that Charlie had bedded several local white girls. Indeed, Ben had shared some of his own conquests with Charlie, and vice versa.

It was a hot Louisiana summer day, stiflingly hot. Ben leaned casually against a huge oak tree and held his fishing pole against his hip. Charlie sat closer to the pool, allowing his feet to dangle in the water. They had several cane poles propped up over various trees and rocks.

After some minutes of boredom, Ben casually unclasped his pants and pulled out his dick. He let it flop against his leg and regarded it casually. It was heavy and uncircumcised, protruding from a thick shock of red pubic hair.

Charlie watched him, suppressing a knowing smile.

The white boy began to stroke his member slowly. He wiped some salty sweat from his cheeks, using it for lubrication.

"Dang, it's hot today!" he observed, as his penis expanded and lengthened.

Charlie didn't respond. Instead, he unbuttoned his own pants and pulled out his own dick. He mimicked Ben's masturbatory moves. In short order both boys were spectacularly erect.

They masturbated slowly, almost as an afterthought. They still held fishing poles delicately in one hand while stroking themselves with the other. There was no embarrassment on either part. This was a regular ritual of their fishing dates. On some occasions a fish would hook itself during their masturbatory ablutions. The boys would simply pause to reel the captive in and then sit back down to continue stroking. Sometimes this ritual went on for hours.

Ben broke the silence.

"Annie tells me she did it to you the other day."

Charlie was shocked speechless.

"She said she tapped dat ass," Ben continued nonchalantly.

Charlie didn't respond, but he stopped stroking his penis. His erection began to flag.

"You better be careful. If daddy finds out, he'll have your hide."

Charlie was relieved.

"If you ain't tell him he won't find out."

Ben laughed. "If I tell him, you'll tell him that I've been tapping Annie's ass since I was twelve! He'll whip my ass, too!"

Both boys laughed. They both also knew that Ben's punishment would pale in comparison to Charlie's punishment. Ben's casualness cut the tension some. Charlie had been worried that Ben might not take the news well.

"Well, I was out here by myself 'n she jumped in butt nekkid. What wuz I 'posed to do?" Charlie explained.

"I don't blame you. That's some good pussy, ain't it?"

"An' it's deep, too!"

Both boys guffawed at this ancient sexual reference. Charlie's penis re-hardened. The boys began to stroke themselves with renewed vigor.

After a time, Charlie dropped his fishing pole, shifted his penis to his right hand and stood up. Ben followed suit. Both boys bent a little at the knees and pointed their erect dicks out over the water. They jacked off with enthusiasm now, in full competition mode. Charlie was on the brink.

"You ready?" he asked breathlessly.

"Almost, " replied Ben, "Hold on a second, "

Charlie slowed down to wait for Ben to catch up.

Suddenly, they heard a giggle coming from the bushes across the spring.

"Hey!"

More giggling and now some thrashing through the underbrush as the spies turned to race away.

Charlie and Ben launched themselves into the water while still fully erect. They left their trousers on the bank. In a flash they were pulling themselves up on the far bank, just in time to see the two spies racing for the wooded path. The boys took an angle along the stream while the spies struggled through the woods.

It was Annie and Tilly. (Tilly was Charlie's cousin)

The girls were barefoot, stumbling over rocks and fallen branches, laughing uncontrollably. When they saw that Ben and Charlie were going to cut them off, they stopped running but continued to laugh hysterically. Tilly mimicked the boys' masturbatory stance, jerking her left hand in the air like a piston. This move elicited another round of shrieking laughter from the girls. Annie fell on the ground and threw her legs in the air in delight. She pounded the ground with her fists.

"I told you they were out here pounding the pud!"

"You started laughing too soon. I wanted to see them shoot!"

Ben and Charlie were upon them now, still naked, picking their way thru the bushes.

"Who told y'all to come out here?" Ben demanded.

"Nobody told us nothing. We seen you when you snuck off!" retorted Tilly.

The boys were breathless from their pursuit. Their dicks were still thick but not fully erect.

"Look at those puny things!" laughed Tilly.

She mocked the male masturbation act again. Annie, who'd been sitting on the ground, rolled to her back again in laughter. Charlie could see she had no drawers on. Both girls wore long white cotton shifts and nothing else.

"Puny?" laughed Ben, faking outrage. "I'll show you puny!"

He charged after Tilly and caught her after a short chase. Charlie knew that Tilly wasn't trying too hard. Tilly was fast. She could smoke everybody on the farm in a footrace, present company included. She could have easily out-distanced Ben if she'd wanted.

Ben grabbed her and carried her like a sack of wheat across his waist. Tilly acted as if she was struggling to get away, but again Charlie noted that she wasn't struggling too hard. Tilly could fight, too, when it was necessary. Charlie reached down and snatched Annie up and slung her across his shoulder. She was too big to carry on his hip. Annie was still laughing. She didn't resist.

The boys carried Annie and Tilly back to the edge of the spring.

"You think it's funny to spy on people, huh? You think it's funny?"

Ben hoisted Tilly above his head and threw her into the spring. She popped up immediately. The cold water pasted her white shift against the contours of her body. Her full breasts and her pubic mound were outlined perfectly.

Now Charlie handed Annie to Ben. He took her ankles while Charlie took her wrists. They swung her back and forth.

"Ah-one and ah-two and here, we, go!"

They flung Annie out into the deep water. She popped up immediately and frog-kicked her way back to the bank.

Meanwhile, Tilly emerged from the water, drenched and dripping. She moved as if to assist Annie, but the boys grabbed her as soon as Annie hit the water. Ben snatched her feet, Charlie grabbed her wrists and they launched her in a high arc out into the spring. She did a somersault and landed face first.

Seeing this, Annie backpedaled. She wanted to continue to play, but not on these uneven terms. She backstroked to the other side of the spring. Tilly followed.

Ben and Charlie dove in after them, caught them on the other side, and proceeded to try to throw the girls in again. This time Tilly fought back with some energy. She also interfered when the boys sought to gang up on Annie. The struggle devolved into a wrestling match with Ben against Annie and Charlie struggling to contain Tilly.

Predictably, as they rolled in the soft grass at the edge of the pool, both boys regained their prior erections. Charlie realized it first. Holding Tilly from behind to keep her from escaping, Charlie suddenly reached down and ripped Tilly's shift over her head. Both of them stood naked on the sward. He held her shift above his head as she jumped and yelped for its return.

Seeing this, Ben tried to perform the same maneuver on Annie. She fought gamely to retain her garment. In the end, her shift ripped partially and Annie gave it up to keep it from ripping entirely.

Now the four of them stood naked on the bank.

"Gimme back my shift, Charlie," said Tilly.

Charlie grinned.

"Gimme some pussy and I'll give it back to you."

Both Ben and Annie laughed. Ben chimed in.

"Yeh, give us some pussy. You owe it to us for spying on us."

"I ain't giving y'all shit. 'N neither is Annie," sniffed Tilly.

"Then walk yo' ass back to de house butt nekkid!" laughed Charlie.

This response created another struggle as the girls renewed their efforts to regain their clothing. The boys played keep away, ducking and dodging the girls' retrieval efforts.

Tilly pulled Annie aside and whispered in her ear. Afterwards, the girls made one last halfhearted effort to get their clothes. Then they bolted over to the fishing poles and grabbed the boys' trousers.

"That's okay," said Annie. "We'll get home in these!"

Ben and Charlie saw that they'd been duped. They advanced on the girls. Tilly and Annie stood their ground. Both girls squatted over the pants.

"You come one step closer and I'm peeing on these pants," threatened Annie.

Both girls giggled. They had the upper hand.

Or so they thought.

The boys charged them. Before long all four teenagers were again swimming across the pool, garments in hand. They obtained the far shore and erupted again into another splash war and a water-wrestling match. Finally, the four of them emerged from the pool exhausted and tousled. They pushed each other to the ground and lay there, breathing heavily.

After some minutes, Ben hitched himself up with a smile.

"So. How about that pussy?"

Both girls were lying naked on the grass with their legs partially open.

"Seems to me like the two of you got better pussy in yo' palms than we got between our legs." observed Tilly dryly. Both girls broke up laughing.

"Yeh!" Annie interrupted. "If you let us watch you jack it up right here, right now, you can get some pussy. But you gotta get it hard in 20 seconds. Right, Tilly?"

"Right," said Tilly.

"You mean you'll give us some pussy right here, right now if we can get it up in 20 seconds?"

"Seventeen seconds, now," laughed Tilly.

Ben and Charlie began to stroke themselves furiously as the girls watched in fascination.

All too soon, Tilly yelled, "Times up!"

But before they could get up and run again the boys grabbed them. Another wrestling match ensued.

This time, however, the girls took pity on the boys. As they rolled along the grassy bank, they pressed they furry mounds against the boys' semi-erect dicks to help them become fully hard.

Then, almost as if they'd planned it, both girls abandoned their wrestling postures. Both girls rolled to their backs and raised their knees so that their pussies were open.

Tilly looked at Charlie, whom she'd wrestled into a position astride her. The base of his penis pressed against her twat. Its shrouded helmet sprang up above her navel.

"That's not it," she teased.

Charlie withdrew, fully expecting her to clamp her legs together and roll away. She did not. Charlie pointed his dick into the pinkness between the black, springy hairs of her labia and lunged into her pussy mound with one stroke. Tilly sighed.

Ben and Annie watched the two blacks with interest. They looked at each other.

"Well?" said Annie.

Ben rose up off her body. Annie reached down and gave his dick a couple of sensual masturbatory tugs. Then she arched her pussy up to receive him. As she felt him broach the entrance to her pussy, she sucked his dick expertly inside. She knew his dick well.

The two girls opened their thighs widely. They were close enough so that their toes touched. Meanwhile, Ben and Charlie were working it out inside their pussies. The boys grinned at each other as they powered strokes inside feminine warmth. Unlike the slow, almost tender techniques they used when having sex alone, this public sex was quick, almost violent. The boys synched up, thrusting and withdrawing in rhythm. They accentuated each thrust with an emphatic "Ha!"

They were showing off.

The girls didn't complain. They arched up on their shoulder blades to receive the thrusts, hips clear of the ground. They grunted gutturally as the boys smashed into their cunts. Tilly closed her eyes, groaning in delight as Charlie pounded her. But Annie liked to watch a dick moving inside her. She watched Ben's urgent thrusting down the crest of her torso. Watching her labia ebb, widen and strain accentuated her arousal.

After some minutes of this, Ben reached over and tapped Charlie on the shoulder.

"Hey, buddy. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Ben had never fucked Tilly. She was one of the few black girls in the neighborhood that he hadn't fucked. He wanted to give her a try.

Tilly was almost ready to come. She wasn't ready for Charlie to withdraw. In another twenty seconds or so she would be there.

Charlie pulled out.

"Oh Charlie! What are you doing!"

Tilly's eyes had been closed. She didn't realize that the boys were going to swap.

So when she looked up from her erotic haze and saw the white boy standing over her with an erect penis and a lustful glare, her first thought was "What is this?"

Her second thought was "Dang! His dick is thick!"

Ben wasted no time in slipping his purple member into Tilly's open pink cooze. Ben scooped her head into the crook of his elbow and began to pummel her pussy enthusiastically. He already knew Annie's pussy well, so he was nowhere near climax when he mounted Tilly.

Tilly's pussy was new pussy. Her scent and the curvature of her vagina were new sensations for him. Ben quickly reached Tilly's level of arousal.

Unlike Charlie, Ben could fit his entire penis into Tilly. When he finished each stroke he could grind his public mound against her engorged clit. Tilly's eyes widened as she felt Ben's kinky pubic hair stimulating her small, erect sex organ. With Charlie, she had to stretch to rub her clit against his shaft as he moved in and out. Charlie's dick was so long he could never put pubic pressure on her clit. But with Ben, she got to ride his shaft and got a good pubic grind in, too. The grind was good! Plus, Ben's dick was a "fattie". It was thick enough to make her feel "full".

After a few minutes of standard in and out, missionary position sex, Tilly grabbed Ben's buns. She held him tightly inside her so that her clit pressed tightly against his pubic mound. She rotated her pussy obscenely and rippled her pussy muscles to suck at his dick. She arched her clit to receive stimulation from his pubic hair and pressure from his pubic mound.

Ben erupted inside her. Tilly literally screamed in ecstasy as she felt him spurt and quake deep in her hole. She convulsed in orgasmic delight. She intertwined her ankles with his to stretch his body as if impaled on a torture rack. Ben pumped blob after blob of hot semen into her.

As they skittered down from this shattering orgasm, Ben pulled his now semi-erect member from between her legs and moved it up to her mouth. Tilly obediently licked and sucked jizz from his shaft and testicles. Amazingly, Ben had enough strength to manage a final weak spurt of cum. It hit Tilly in the eyebrow.

Slowly Ben and Tilly became more aware of their surroundings. They heard a rhythmic slapping and looked over to see Charlie mounted over Annie from the rear. The two teens were standing up. Annie bent forward a little to grasp a tree stump. Charlie held her by the waist and was driving long, deep strokes into her pink hole from behind. The rhythmic slapping was the sound of his balls smacking against Annie's sticky vulva. Her eyes were closed. Annie's whole body was tense. Clearly, she was on the verge of climax.

Tilly was fascinated. She'd been fucked from behind, but she'd never seen it done. She'd also never seen a black man fuck a white woman before. She noticed that Ben seemed fascinated by this coupling, too.

Tilly reached down and wiped a large blob of Ben's semen from her inner thigh. She drew it up to her nose and smelled it discreetly. She tasted it. It tasted like paste. Ben's smell was unique. He smelled like spring water, sweat, wet hair and white man. She was well familiar with the odor.

Ben was still lying on his side in the grass with his dick before her. She took it into her mouth again to try to suck the last vestiges of cum from his member. She didn't realize how powerful the sound of mating couples could be. Ben's penis, limp just seconds before, began to fill and thicken at the sound of his sister's mating cries.

Annie came. She crooned the arrival her climax with a series of screeching "Ohs!" as she arched her ass up and down on Charlie's thrusting cock. Tilly watched this with interest as Ben's member hardened again in her mouth. Charlie wasn't ready to come, she could tell. Charlie's nostrils always started flaring uncontrollably when he was ready to come. His muscles convulsed and quivered. It was clear that Charlie was in control of Annie's pussy. At least, he was in control right now.

Annie continued to coo and shiver as she loudly announced her orgasm. Her body convulsed rhythmically and involuntarily. She drew breath in staggering gasps. Charlie continued to churn inside her. He tried to time his pelvic assault with her orgasmic convulsions.

As the seconds dragged on, however, Annie's muscular spasms slackened some. The interval between her moans and her contractions eased. Charlie was still fully erect, though. He pulled his dick from between her thighs, noting the angry red coloration of her scorched labia. Charlie gently pushed Annie to her knees. Annie looked at her brother, but he wasn't paying attention. With some trepidation, she took Charlie's massive pole in her mouth and began to suck. Annie immediately noted his acrid sexual odor in her nostrils. Charlie's dick not only smelled like black dick, but it was coated in her own pussy juice and crested with the piquant smell of her ass. Charlie's dick was funky.

Charlie held his penis by its base with one hand. He gripped the back of Annie's head with the other and encouraged her to swallow more and more of his cock. Annie seemed reticent. She still wondered how her brother would react to the sig

The Antebellum Pussie Possie: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 08 Oct 2026 18:49:00 +0000

Southern Interracial Trysts on the plantation.

By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Annie’s new swim mate

Annette peered cautiously thru the bushes. The young blonde paused, carefully placing each step. She was barefoot and she didn't want to roust any critters. Though she knew this path well it always paid to be watchful.

She heard a splash nearby and knew it for what it was. It was Charlie, her brother's black friend and fishing partner. He was swimming alone in the pool. She steeled her nerves to set herself. This is it. One last look up the trail,

The black boy swam joyously in the spring. He was a slave. He'd sneaked away from the house, as was his custom, on the premise of going to chop some wood. Then he'd made a beeline for his favorite water hole and taken an hour for himself.

He heard Annette's song before she came around the bend in the creek, just as she'd planned.

Dressed only in a white shift that came down to her knees, Annette knew what she would find at the spring: ripples. Charlie was gone like a ghost. He couldn't afford to be caught swimming at midday on a workday.

But Annette knew where he was. She'd spied on him for weeks. She'd watched his ablutions from a hidden vantage point, watched the clear water cascading over his muscular frame as he swam. She'd watched him step naked from the pool, marveling at the size and girth of his penis, even in cold water. She knew that towards the end of his hour he would step out of the pool, have a leisurely smoke and then slowly masturbate, pumping himself faster and faster by degrees until he reached climax. At the moment of release he would stand up and see how far his ejaculate would fly. On good days he could get a 5-foot pop.

Occasionally her brother Ben would meet Charlie at the pool. The two boys were the same age and had grown up together. And while Charlie was technically Ben's slave, the boys were good friends. On several occasions Annette had spied them masturbating for distance and laughed about it afterwards. Charlie invariably won, but not by much. Ben had an admirable cock of his own.

Now Annette feigned caution as she stepped gingerly up to the pool. She knew Charlie could see her. She wanted him to think she sought solitude. She looked back up the trail to see if anyone was coming (though she knew no one was). She craned her neck to peer into each crevice and cranny of the woods surrounding the pool.

Satisfied that no one was around, Annette shed her shift and stood naked on the bank. She folded her shift smartly and laid it neatly under a tree. Then she stood up and stretched like a great jungle cat. She preened on her toes and bowed her legs like a ballerina. Her pendulous breasts swayed with her movements, making her seem unsteady. But she knew what she was doing. She cupped both breasts and turned them upwards toward her face. The pink nipples were perfectly shaped. She felt a tingle of delight and a deep warmth in her groin. Now she moved her right hand down to her mound of silky blonde pubic hair to caress her clitoris ever so gently. She slid the length of her middle finger over that sensitive member. She felt it spring to life under her touch. It protruded from her pubic mound like a small, budding penis.

Partially aroused, Annette stepped into the spring. The cold-water shock cooled her ardor some. She waded out until the water reached her hips. Then she struck out gamely into a standard stroke. She swam completely across the clear pool, stood up and swam back.

She knew that Charlie was underwater somewhere, sucking on a reed for oxygen. She knew the boys' tricks. Annette had always been Ben's annoying younger sister, prying into the their antics, tattle taling and trying to get their attention. Now she'd grown into a voluptuous young woman. She wanted a different type of attention.

Annette knew this spring well. She'd grown up here. It wasn't hard for her to spot Charlie's air reed or the dark spot beneath the clear water where none ought be. She struck out across the pool again, this time moving in Charlie's direction. She crossed the deep channel and stood up about ten feet from Charlie's hiding spot. She stood up on the gravelly bottom of the pool so that her breasts and part of her pubic mound were exposed. Then she threw her head back and wringed the water out of her hair like a mop.

Charlie stood up.

Instantly, Annette's hands flew up to cover her breasts and her groin, after the Aphrodite fashion.

"What are you doing here, Charlie!" she declared disingenuously.

The boy laughed. "That ain't the question, Miss Annette. What are you doing here, runnin' 'round with your cooch are all out? I'm gon' tell Ben."

"Oh you didn't see that! You're not supposed to see that!" And she splashed away back across the pool.

Charlie took off after her. When they reached the shallows again both teenagers stood up and began splashing each other like children. Charlie used both hands, but Annette still feigned modesty. She splashed with one hand while covering her breasts with the other.

Finally, she shrieked, "You win! You win!" Then she hunkered down on her haunches so that the water reached her neck and covered the rest of her body in a thin veil of liquid crystal. Charlie stood over her smiling widely. At nineteen, he was only a year older than Annette. They'd grown up together, albeit on different sides of the nineteenth century social divide. This was not their first splash fight at this spring.

"If you tell about seein' my cooch, I'll tell about you being here. You're supposed to be off chopping wood," Annie teased.

"You won't tell," Charlie retorted confidently.

"Yes, I will. I ain't a-skeered of you, Charlie."

She turned from him and swam away leisurely. Charlie followed her, grabbed her by the foot, and threw her over so that she did a full somersault in the water.

"Hey!" she said.

This move resulted in another splash war, this one longer than the first.

"Cut it out, Charlie. I ain't playin' wit' you! Cut it out!"

She swam away again. This time she arched her butt out of the water so that Charlie could see the full cut of her vulva.

When she surfaced a few feet away, Charlie said, "I seen your cooch again."

Annette replied flippantly: "So? You wouldn't know what to do with it if you had it. I seen your peter rabbit a bunch of times. I seen you out here whackin' your pecker. You and Ben, both!"

She laughed girlishly.

Charlie charged after her. She shrieked and tried to swim away, but Charlie was faster. He grabbed her by the foot again, but this time he drew her to him. He grabbed her around the waist with his right arm and controlled her left wrist with his left hand.

"What did you say? What did you say?"

He wasn't hurting her. She laughed.

"I said I see'd you whacking your pecker. This thing."

Annie reached back and grabbed him by the base of his penis. She felt it flop against her forearm. She was again amazed at its heft and girth. At her touch it began to lengthen and harden up the line of her wrist.

Charlie was shocked. This was little Annette, Ben's baby sister, a white girl no less, standing here holding his cock. Charlie released his grip on Annette's waist. Annie didn't release his penis in turn. She turned to look him in his eyes.

"I seen you do it. Like this."

She gripped his nuts with her other hand and stroked him fully erect in a matter of seconds. She pulled his bountiful foreskin back and forth across the rounded head of his penis as she had seen him do, using quick, back and forth jerks of her wrist.

The effect was spectacular. Charlie's member sprang upward and outward, a full 12 inches from his kinky pubic mound. The angular ridges of Charlie's lithe, muscular abdomen tightened and flexed as blood rushed into his cock.

When he was fully aroused, Annette said casually, "But, like I said, you wouldn't know what to do with it."

She swam away from him again.

Charlie sprang after her, this time with some difficulty. His erect cock swung back and forth comically, making his movements seem strained and awkward.

Annette allowed herself to be caught just as she was entering the deep water. She arched her behind out of the water again so that Charlie could get a closer view of her hairy labia and the golden pink cleft in between. Charlie grabbed both her ankles and drew her back towards him in the shallow water, parting her legs as she came. Annette looked over her shoulder at him with feigned surprise. She fanned her arms like paddles in order to stay afloat.

When she didn't fight, Charlie drew her back closer and closer until his erect dick was touching her pussy. He pulled her gently closer, attempting to gauge her interest in penetration. His dick slid up between her cheeks and bounced off her apple-shaped buttocks.

Annette looked over her shoulder and giggled.

"I told you that you wouldn't know what to do with it," she mocked. She wiggled away.

Charlie waded after her, caught her and tried the same maneuver. Same result. Annette taunted him giddily. Again, she arched her butt out of the water to show him the cut of her pussy, but this time she rotated her behind sensuously like a bee, to tease him.

Charlie wasn't any stranger to women. Still in his teens, Charlie hadn't been a virgin since the age of 11. A number of grown women had noted his fine features, rangy musculature, clear skin and the bulge in his trousers. This young white girl was taunting him. It was maddening.

Charlie waded after Annette again. This time he grabbed her by the hips and arched her butt out of the water so that her vagina was again exposed. She didn't fight him. With her ass already up in the air, Annette leaned forward and parted her legs a bit to give him a better view.

This time Charlie slid his penis downward between her ass cheeks until his straining member was positioned at the opening to Annette's twat. Using his thumb as a guide, Charlie pressed her labia apart. His dick slid easily up into her warm pussy. The silky blonde pubic hairs tickled him deliciously as they followed his shaft into her golden-pink slit.

Annette's eyes widened in shock as she felt Charlie's heavy penis moving deeper into her cooze. She stood on her tiptoes to further accommodate him. Four inches deep. Six inches. Nine.

At ten inches Annette felt full. She felt his thick helmet pressing firmly against her cervix, felt her labia straining wide to engulf more of his massive dick.

Standing behind her, Charlie watched Annette's pussy tremble under the heft of his tremendous cock. Her pussy lips jerked and clenched involuntarily. She drew breath in gasps, as if being choked.

Charlie held her in place with his dick as deep as it would go. When Annette tried to initiate a natural humping action Charlie held her tighter. He refused to start thrusting into her Instead, he contracted his pelvic muscles to pulse his penis rhythmically, all the while holding it tightly jammed against the back of her pussy.

After a few moments of this sort of teasing, Charlie reached his hand around from behind to caress her vulva. He stroked her clitoris roughly with his middle finger. Annette slapped his hand away. She knew how to masturbate a good clit better than he. She began to stroke her own clitoris, seeking to elicit friction by pressing it against Charlie's shaft.

They stood there connected at the genitals for several moments without moving. Both teens were shocked that they were actually 'doing it'.

Finally, Charlie reached up to cup both her breasts with his hands. He withdrew slowly until he was halfway out of her pussy, then powered his dick back into her hole with a jackhammer thrust. Annette gasped. Charlie repeated the move. Each time he withdrew a little further. Each time his return thrust was a little harder and a little faster. Slow out. Fast in. Annette picked up the rhythm. Charlie watched from the rear mount position as his powerful dick cruised in and out of Annette's pussy. He could see her labia expand and contract with each thrust. He saw his withdrawals pull her hairy mound further and further from its position of safety between her legs, saw it quiver in anticipation of his next thrust, heard the spring water splashing rhythmically in concert with his insistent insertions.

Charlie arched his back for maximum effect. He pulled his dick almost completely out of her pussy and fired back in wantonly with the return stroke.

Annette loved it.

The two teens strained against each other like this for five long, agonizing minutes. Charlie massaged her breasts furiously while driving into her. The cold water splashed upward to provide a sparkling dichotomy to their heated lust.

After a time Annette could feel Charlie's breathing become more strained, fervent. His moans became prolonged, with a deeper timbre. She knew what that meant. Annette pushed him delicately in the chest. It was a declination. She tried to arch her pussy off his straining dick. Charlie didn't take the hint. He was insistent.

"Charlie, stop it! You can't come inside me!"

She gave a little hop, releasing his lever from her pussy. Charlie still gripped her by the tits. Though she hadn't climaxed, she pushed away from his embrace.

"What's the matter?" he asked breathlessly.

"You know what's the matter. You can't come inside me. I'll get in trouble. You’ll get in trouble. How would I look with a mix-race pickanninny?"

"You might not get big. Come on, Annie, lets finish," Charlie whimpered breathlessly.

"How do you know?" she asked.

His dick was still massively erect. It stood between them like a wild thing, seeking the warmth between her legs. There was no doubt that Annette wanted to finish, too. She was almost there. She knew that her words made sense. A white girl pregnant with a black child in Louisiana didn't have any future. But at least she'd be alive. Charlie would be killed. She didn't want that.

Annette waded out of the water. She turned to face Charlie from the grassy bank.

"You know you're not supposed to be touching a white girl anyway" she chided him.

But there wasn't any conviction in her words. His hugely engorged organ was still straining between them. Too, their sex had been better than she'd expected. She really wanted to climax with his dick inside her. Annie's own extraordinarily sized clitoris poked visibly from beneath its sheath, indicating the depth of her arousal.

Annette sat down next to her shift as Charlie stepped from the spring. She regarded him with a twinge of regret.

"Look Charlie, if I show you something you can't tell anybody, okay?"

Charlie was willing to try anything. She called him over. When he was standing over her, she gently cupped his balls with her fingertips. Then she guided his dick into her mouth. She circumlocuted his penis with her tongue, paying special attention to the sensitive nerves on the underside of his pudenda. Then she began to gently suck him, bobbing her head up and down. She pulled her blonde tresses back so that Charlie might watch her efforts more clearly. She gazed up into his eyes confidently.

In less than a minute, Charlie erupted in her mouth.

Annette sucked down as much cum as she could as quickly as she could. She didn't want Charlie to lose his tumescence.

When she felt she'd drawn most of his load, Annette reached over and spread her shift across the grass. She lay back on it, then raised and opened her legs.

"Put it in, Charlie. Put it in before it gets soft."

Charlie willingly obliged. Her pussy was still wet. He knelt between her legs and placed the purpled head of his partially engorged cock against her clit. He rubbed the sensitive underside over and around her smaller sex organ. Annette moaned in anticipation. She endured as much of this teasing as she could. Finally she reached down to pry his hand from his dick. She gripped his cock resolutely and pointed it into her own wet, turgid flesh. She watched as his black dick disappeared into her pink pussy.

Charlie mounted her in the dominant missionary position with his arms supporting his upper body from the grass. He began to pound her with quick strokes, trying to regain his full erection. It didn't take long. Annette was able to engulf his recently milked penis, but as he regained his power she was able to take less and less of him. Having climaxed a short time before, Charlie's cock was less sensitive, too. He began to punish her pussy with long, scimitar strokes.

This is what Annette wanted all along. Doggie style, Annette's clit didn't get the attention it needed. But with Charlie arching into her from above she was able to ride the crest of his shaft as it slammed in and out of her sticky pussy.

This was heaven. Oh, it was absolute heaven.

Annie arched up on her shoulder blades to receive his strokes. She clinched her pussy lips together to provide him with maximum friction each time he withdrew. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and upper lip as she fought to temper her own orgasm.

They assaulted each other in this manner for several minutes. Charlie caught Annette's lambent gaze and locked her eyes with his as he probed every inch of her slippery, pink pussy. He felt the firm but smooth, bumpy ridges in her deep vagina as he slid back and forth, felt her warm pussy walls caressing and tugging at his thick foreskin, laving him with her naturally aromatic lubricants.

Annette was amazed at the wealth of sensations she elicited from the feel of Charlie's shaggy foreskin moving inside her. His penis was thick enough, but his rugged foreskin provided her with enormous pleasure. It was pliable and rangy and it added indescribably rich friction to her inner pussy walls. She concentrated on sucking at it with her powerful vaginal muscles. Each time she contracted her pussy, both of them moaned in delight.

Now fully erect, two inches of Charlie's massive member still stood out from Annette's pussy. Try as she might, she couldn't get his whole dick inside her.

"She took the ten but left the two."

From her supine position beneath, she looked down between her tits to watch as Charlie arched and preened inside her. His dick looked like a black lever with thick veins encircling his shaft in bold relief. She watched her golden mound expand and rotate to accommodate his surging thrusts.

"God, it's so big!" she thought. "If he stands up, I think he can support my whole body!"

But Charlie wasn't thinking about standing up. He manipulated Annette's knees up until they brushed against her breasts. Then he cupped Annette's head in the crook of his elbow and jammed his tongue in her ear. His tongue was hot and rough. Charlie tugged at Annette's earlobes with his teeth while he slowly ground his dick in and out of her pussy. The sensation was ethereal.

Annette whispered harshly, "Fuck me! Oh fuck me its so good! Go deep deep deep deeper! Oh that’s it! Fuck Me!"

Her visceral sexual comments transmuted, by degrees, into a long, guttural groan.

She rotated her hips obscenely, ever faster, causing his massive organ to plumb every crevice of her moistened slit. She would do a triple rotation, a tight muscular contraction and then four or five arching hits so that Charlie punished her cervix with his long, deep thrusts.

The two teens began to sweat salty rivulets.

Finally Annette could take it no longer. She signaled the on

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 07 Oct 2026 23:09:00 +0000

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 3

Every Breath You Take.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 3 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Anthony checked the shopping list on his phone as he scoured the products at the small gourmet shop that looked like a 99-cent store from the outside. Inside, Babinskis had some of the finest produce and bakery ingredients in all of New York.

Always looking to create something unique to add to the dessert menu at La Morra, today he was on the hunt for the perfect fall spices.

Anthony was on his knees, trying to get items off a floor-level shelf, when a very tall, attractive woman moved past him, holding a basket as she scoured the shelves. Dressed in a fashionable blue, she seemed out of place in an establishment frequented by foodies and gourmands. From his angle, she towered over him.

"I'm sorry, where do you keep the Dutch chocolate?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't work here," Anthony replied, "but look at aisle two."

"Thank you,"

Anthony placed some items in his basket and continued prowling the shelves. He soon came across the woman standing before a display of chocolate powders, looking lost. She studied a recipe and looked at her choices.

"Dutch chocolate has a lot of nuances," Anthony said. "Cacao levels and acidity."

"I'm beyond lost and in way over my head. I have the recipe for croquembouche, and I don't know where to start."

"croquembouche? That's not an easy one."

"I have a confession. I can't cook for shit."

"This isn't cooking. It's baking,"

"I'm worse at baking,"

"Croquembouche is probably one of the most difficult desserts to cook. The French don't make anything easy."

The woman looked dejected.

"There are simple things you can make. Some of them are foolproof."

"No, it has to be a croquembouche. It's for a client. I closed a deal recently and might have made a white lie saying I made an incredible croquembouche. Now he wants me to make him one."

"You could buy one. There is a French bakery on Aberdeen. They are amazing."

"No, it has to be homemade. Trust me, I looked at theirs. It was perfect. Too perfect. I asked if they would make one that looked less than perfect. One that looked homemade."

"I can guess the response. Them being French and all. Here, Well, try this chocolate. It melts well."

"You know a lot about croquembouche."

"I do the desserts at a restaurant, although I've never made a croquembouche."

"Can I pay you to make one for me?"

"Oh, no, sorry. I don't do that kind of side work."

"I apologize. I have a kitchenette at the Hilton. I'm not sure I can do this there."

"You can't. Not even close," Anthony said, watching her confidence whither.

"I'm so fucked," the woman said with despair.

Anthony studied the woman feeling bad for her situation.

"I'll tell you what. I have to head to work now. I'm at La Morra on Sullivan Street. You come by around 9 o'clock tonight. The baking will be done by then, and you and I will make a croquembouche together. I've always wanted to try one. This is a good reason."

"You would do that for me? I have to pay you."

"No, no charge. We have the ingredients, so show up."

"I'm Heidi," she said, putting a hand forward to shake his. "Heidi Rivas."

"Anthony Albano."

"You are going to save my career, Anthony Albano."

"Don't thank me yet, croquembouche is a bitch to make. At best, it will still look amateur. See you this evening."

Anthony headed out, taking one last look at the tall beauty. He was five feet eleven inches, and considering she wasn't wearing heels, she must have been slightly over six feet tall.

Heidi arrived at La Morra around 8:30 and had a glass of wine at the bar. Anthony came out ten minutes later and guided her to the kitchen. Dinner service was still active, so the kitchen was abuzz with activity.

Anthony guided Heidi through the chaos. He had to pull her to the side more than once to avoid the action.

"It's crazy in here," she commented.

"You should have been here for the dinner rush."

He directed her to the baking area, out of the combat zone of the stoves and prep.

"Okay, croquembouche. Let's get into it. Here, put this on."

Heidi donned an apron, and the two reviewed the recipe. A croquembouche is no easy task. A fluffy cake of chocolate pastry balls, each filled with custard cream, is then built into a pastry tower and covered with spun sugar.

Two hours later, the ornate French pastry stood perfectly on the baking table. Shaped like a Christmas tree, it was a vision to behold.

"I have never seen something like that."

"Well, now you have and can confirm that you made it. I'm placing it in our reefer overnight so you can get it to your meeting tomorrow."

Heidi's smile could not contain her glee. She reached over and gave Anthony a warm hug.

"You are incredible," she said.

"Well, I can bake; and cook. Not sure about incredible."

The restaurant had closed, and the cleaning crew were doing their work as Anthony and Heidi exited.

"That was so much fun. You really should give lessons."

"The job keeps me pretty busy. It's demanding work, but I love it. You were great in there. Maybe next time, claim you can do something easier. Chocolate chip cookies are always popular."

"Yeah, not mine. Hey, let me give you a ride home?"

"I'm only a few blocks away," he responded.

"Please, it's the least I can do."

"Sure, thanks."

The two climbed into her rental car, and Anthony gave directions toward his home. As they approached his brownstone apartment building on North 6^th Street, Heidi turned into the alley behind it.

"Oh, you turned too soon. This leads to the alley behind my building."

"This city confuses me with all the one-way roads," she replied.

"No big deal, you can let me out by the back doors; the fourth one on the right."

The alley in the back of the brownstones on North 6^th Street had dumpsters for each building and a few parking spots. It was dark and dimly lit.

Heidi pulled up behind Anthony's building.

"Okay, this is weird," Heidi began, "but I've got to pee so badly. I should have gone to the restaurant. Do you mind standing guard? I'll just go behind the car."

"That's nuts, You can use my bathroom,"

"I don't mind. I did it all the time in college."

"Yeah, well, this is Brooklyn, not-

"Michigan State."

"You don't want to piss in a Brooklyn alley. Park in that spot, over there. The woman who used it moved out."

Heidi pulled into the empty parking spot, and the two got out. Anthony used his keys to open the back door of the building.

"Elevator's out. Can you make it to the third floor?"

Anthony led Heidi up the stairs. A woman came down with her laundry when they approached the second floor.

"Stella, don't tell me you are doing laundry this late?"

Stella was the second-floor tenant. She lived right below Anthony with her husband.

"They just fixed the machines. Shabbat always sneaks up on me, so I want to finish load this before tomorrow evening."

Stella looked at Heidi with a smile.

"Hello."

Heidi turned to Anthony and made a face that reminded him of her need to pee. Heidi and Anthony continued up as Stella watched them go; she then went down the stairs to the laundry room.

Anthony opened the door to his apartment, and Heidi rushed toward the bathroom without asking where it was.

"It's just down the hall on the;”

"Found it," Heidi called out as she entered the bathroom.

Once inside, she was in far less of a rush as she nosed around, looking in his medicine cabinet and the shower. She opened the hamper and took out a filthy T-shirt, holding it to her nose.

Finally, she pulled her pants down, sat on the toilet, leaned forward, and peed. Finishing with a little shiver, she took a wad of toilet paper and wiped herself dry from the front. She flushed and then washed her hands. Pausing momentarily, she picked up Anthony's toothbrush, added some toothpaste, brushed her teeth, and exited the bathroom.

"Wine just runs through me," Heidi explained, finding Anthony in the kitchen.

"Great apartment. A two-bedroom unit in this area. Must cost a fortune."

"It's rent-controlled, but when the landlord gets everyone out of the building, it will go condo. I love it. It's quiet. Nothing interesting happens here," Anthony said while straightening up.

"It's great. My place is corporate housing. I wouldn't say I like it, but it's functional. Listen, it's not that late, not for New York City. Is there any chance I can take you out for a late bite or just a drink? I want to hear more about that restaurant you want to open."

"That's a pipe dream, but there's a beautiful place nearby if you don't mind me talking about my dreams of owning a restaurant. Would you mind if I took a quick shower? I've been in a sweltering kitchen for about ten hours."

"Sure, no rush. I've got emails to check."

Anthony hurried down the hall, taking his shirt off as he went. Heidi watched him go and then began to look around the apartment.

In the bathroom, Anthony took off his pants to pee and noticed he was semi-hard. Heidi was attractive and aggressive. She had managed to get to his apartment, so perhaps she was into him. He wasn't sure, so maybe he could figure this out over drinks.

In the shower, Anthony soaped himself up with Mountain Blast Irish Spring, taking extra care to lather his cock and balls. He heard knocking on the door.

"Anthony, I really have to pee again," Heidi said from the hallway.

"Door's not locked. I'm in the shower, so go for it."

Anthony heard the door open and continued to wash up. Suddenly, he felt something warm on his leg. Wiping the soap from his eyes, a completely nude Heidi had stepped into the shower with him.

She was tall and fit, something her clothing hid: toned arms, muscular thighs, and firm round tits with thin, long nipples.

Looking at her twaut, he saw the reason for the warmth. She was peeing on his leg. The shower water washed the almost clear liquid away as Heidi reached down to grasp Anthony's cock.

Most women were surprised by the thickness of Anthony's cock, but not Heidi. She used her right hand to stroke it as she wrapped her left arm around Anthony's head and brought him in for a deep kiss.

"I did have to pee," she whispered as she sucked on his lower lip.

"So, I see. Interesting opening move," he said as he pushed the tall woman against the wall.

"All men want to be peed on by a woman," she whispered. "They like being marked. You're mine until another woman pees on you."

Anthony turned the tall woman around and aggressively pushed her against the glass shower door, flattening her tits as he moved in behind her ass.

"I gotta warn you, this could hurt."

Heidi said nothing but widened her stance, which opened her ass and cunt and served to lower her to the perfect height to be entered.

With hot water cascading over the two of them. Anthony held his cock in one hand and another on her shoulder to keep her pinned as he invaded her cunt from behind. This was a shower fuck. No foreplay. Just hardcore fucking with the water running.

Heidi groaned with pleasure as the fattest cock she had ever experienced was passing through her tight lips, which stretched wide, allowing passage to her warm inside.

Anthony's thick cock sealed off her cunt from the shower water allowing her personal interior lube to help Anthony slide in deep. The tall woman lifted her right leg helping Anthony's thick cock continue inward.

She bent slightly lower, and he slid in deeper, causing Heidi to wince. Anthony groaned with pleasure as her velvet interior massaged his shlong.

"My God, that cock is even bigger than I thought," Heidi moaned through waves of euphoria.

Bigger than she thought? Anthony considered her statement, but in the middle of sex, nothing made sense anyway. He pulled out slightly so he could admire her ass and the way her cunt lips gripped him in a tight seal, stretching back as if they were made of silicone and then retracting when he pushed in.

Her skin was olive in color, but with her ass spread, he could see the skin of her gluteal cleft graduated to light brown, getting darker near her anus. The fold of skin (the raphe) created a nice little pink button in the center of her anus hole.

Putting two hands on her ass, his thumb danced across her puckernut, testing it for entry and her willingness.

"You want to fuck that ass? You'll need to clean it," she said with zero embarrassment.

"I can do that for you."

Heidi smiled. That was precisely what she wanted him to do.

With that, she stood up, expelling his turgid cock from her cunt.

She took the handheld shower head off its clip, handed it to Anthony, then bent forward, grasping her ankles and giving him unfettered access to her ass entry.

Anthony changed the spray to a focused flow, and aimed it at her sphincter. Squeezing some shower gel down her ass crack, he used his forefinger to foam up the gel, gently poking his finger inside her. She helped by pulling her ass cheeks apart, allowing the beam of water to enter and clean deep inside. Anthony's finger pushed deeper as he rotated it slightly, then pulled it out and returned to the stream of water. Soon enough, the water going out was as clear as the water coming in.

The two stood straight, bodies intertwined as she stroked him, and he fingered her.

Heidi turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and walked out of the bathroom. Anthony quickly toweled off and followed.

Down the hall, he saw the towel on the floor and entered his bedroom. Heidi was on the bed, ass up, face down.

Looking at her, waiting for him like a dog in heat, Anthony could see how big she was. Her body was proportional, but due to her height, her ass was far bigger than any he had pleasured or even seen in the past.

"You ever fuck a big, tall girl?" she asked.

"No."

"Then I am going to be your unicorn. Something unique. You are going to remember this for a long time."

Anthony noticed the window shades were down and pulled them up to open the window.

"What are you doing? Stop."

"It gets hot in here," he said. "That radiator is hard to manage. Don't worry, no one can see in."

"I like it hot. I like it when my man sweats on me. I want to taste your salt. Especially when it drips off your balls."

Anthony's heart was racing. This tall woman was talking a hell of a game. Over the past few weeks, it seems each woman he slept with was on a mission to be his best.

Heidi remained face down, ass up as he crawled onto the bed. From this perspective, he marveled at the size and shape of her ample ass. He moved in close to inspect the magnificent behind. Her sphincter was pulsating slightly in anticipation of his touch. He noticed razor stubble around her tight knot where she had amateurly groomed herself. A few stray pubic hairs remained.

"You want to inspect my ass? Make sure it's clean enough for you?"

Anthony took his middle finger and pressed against her ass, which quickly relented and let him slide in knuckle deep.

Heidi winced slightly.

"I'm dry from the shower. Hold on a second."

She reached to the bedside table, took out a small jar of coconut oil and slathered some on her ass, poking some inside her sphincter.

"How did you know I had that?"

Heidi smiled without looking back.

"Come on, all guys had some kind of jerk-off lube near their bed."

Her ass glistened as some of the excess oil ran down her ass crack and dripped off her dangling labia lips staining his sheets.

Anthony slipped his thumb in then added a second and third finger.

"Oh, fuck. That feels so;”

Heidi was too lost in the pleasure to finish her sentence. She panted slightly to adjust to his three finger penetration.

"Taste my ass. Tell me how it tastes. Use that educated tongue."

Anthony withdrew his fingers and pressed his face to her ass. She rocked back slightly, bringing her nut-brown whispering eye to his mouth and nose.

His first taste was the coconut oil, but as he got past that, she tasted clean and fresh. He licked at her quavering pucker and was met with a hint of tobacco, caramel, and herbs. The flavors combined nicely, and he pushed his tongue in deeper.

"This feels crazy good. Your fucking tongue is as thick as that cock."

Crazy was right, thought Anthony. This was crazy.

Here he was, eating the ass of a woman he met in a market this morning. Once she had her clothes off, she was quickly becoming the freakiest woman he had ever encountered. Considering that only a few weeks ago, he fucked a mob princess with a stick of butter in this exact spot, there was a high bar for Heidi to cross.

Anthony moved his face up and down her ass wetting her dark hole and her perineum and even getting tastes of her dripping cunt.

"You like eating m

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 06 Oct 2026 23:08:00 +0000

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 2

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Anthony’s interlope.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 3 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

I never thought I would like to live in Brooklyn, but when my work took me there, I became immersed in the Brooklyn lifestyle.

Coming from Boston, I was not familiar with Jewish culture, particularly Orthodox Jews and their devout customs.

I had been raised Catholic but hadn't attended church in years. My religious beliefs were vague at best. One thing I admired was the devotion to faith my Jewish neighbors displayed.

Below me lived the Rothenburgs. The husband, Aaron, was a Jeweler in Manhattan, and his wife taught at the nearby yeshiva. Aaron kept to himself, never associating with goyum like me. Stella was different. She always had a kind smile, something pleasant to say, and enjoyed small talk. I got the feeling she and her husband didn't converse much, so she jumped at any chance to share a conversation.

Stella was in her mid-40s. She had some of the softness of an early middle-aged woman. She had a long face with dark eyes and poorly styled, frosted blond hair. To say she had a Jewish look could sound like a racist statement, but I found that kind of Eastern European look beautiful, so if I were to say she looked Jewish, that could only be as a compliment.

Stella was on the stoop. Typically, this meant the couple on the first floor was having loud daytime sex. Stella was always concerned that children could hear the audible groans and pornographic shouts of pleasure from the over-sexed couple. So, when they had sex, which was often, she would stand on the stoop and sing songs from the Torah.,

But the couple on the first floor had left a few weeks ago. He was on his way to prison, and I knew she was somewhere in Italy. The apartment was empty.

"Hello, Mrs. Rothenburg."

"Please, Anthony, call me Stella. You make me feel so old with that Mrs. Rothenburg stuff."

"I was only trying to be polite."

"And you are. A wonderfully polite neighbor. There are so few these days."

"The first-floor apartment is empty. So, what brings you outside tonight?"

"Oh, I do not miss those two. So much noise and the arguments. It was too much."

"They could get pretty loud," I said with slight embarrassment, knowing first-hand how loud Rosalie from the first floor was in bed.

"I told Aaron to call the building owner," she replied.

"Aaron?"

"My husband, Mr. Rothenberg."

"Of course. Well, I'm right above you, so hopefully, the only sound you hear from my apartment is the TV set."

Stella looked at me with an all-knowing smile, and I wanted to ask what that smile intimated, but having had a few extreme guests in my bed in recent weeks, I felt it was best not to pursue that question.

"You are a chef, right?"

"I am. At La Morra. Well, right now, they have me baking. But I hope to get some of my ideas on the menu soon."

"I don't suppose they have a kosher menu there?"

"I'm afraid not. However, several of our Jewish patrons go for the lamb with fava beans, and as it turns out, our pasta is kosher. But our kitchen is not, so I guess that's technically a no."

"Well, I'm sure it's wonderful."

"Are you waiting for someone?" I asked, unsure why she was sitting outside.

"Not really, no, but I am very happy to see you."

I knew Stella was a little awkward, but her sentiment was kind.

"Same here. It's a nice night to sit on the stoop."

"It's Friday."

"So, it is."

"It's the Sabbath," she said.

"That's right, it is. I don't know what the proper greeting is for a sabbath."

"Shabbat Shalom," she replied.

"Well, then, Shabbat Shalom."

"I was making dinner and left the lights on in my bedroom and then the sun set. They are still on."

I looked up to see lights in her apartment window on the second floor.

"So, they are."

"They are on. I have to go to sleep soon, but those lights are on."

"I can see that."

At this point, I really needed to pee and hit the shower, so I started up the stairs.

"I can't sleep with the lights on," she added. "Can you?"

"Me? No, not unless I'm black-out drunk. If you'll excuse me, I've got to run to the bathroom."

"Would you like to use my bathroom?"

I stopped to consider the nature of this strange request. Stella was inviting me upstairs to use her bathroom. What was that all about?

"It's a floor below yours. Quicker to use it."

"I think I can make it."

Sensing an undefined need of urgency, I looked at Stella and then at the light in her apartment.

"Is something wrong? Something in your apartment?"

"Do you like rugelach cookies?" she asked.

"I do. I love it with coffee."

"I know you're a chef, but I think my rugelach is the best around. Better than Shlomy’s Bakery.

"That's a steep boast. Shlomy’s is world famous. I'd love to try some of them someday;”

"Now. Come up and have some. I desperately want your opinion. It would mean the world to me. I mean, you being a professional baker and all."

I wondered where Stella was heading with her insistence that I come to her apartment right now. I'm embarrassed to say, but I couldn't help feeling she was somehow coming on to me, and as a guy, a woman coming on to me trumped everything, even the need to use the bathroom.

She was awkward because she had a sheltered life and had never ventured outside of the insulated Orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn. But right now, she seemed determined to get me to her apartment.

"Sure, let's try some," I said.

"Yes, great. Mine is flakey and very buttery. You like butter, right? I know you do."

The mention of butter gave me another reason for pause. A recent sexual encounter involved butter. A lot of butter. Was she implying something? Then again, cookies require butter, so perhaps she was just talking about cookies.

"Well, I use cream cheese in mine, which keeps the center moist. Melts on your tongue. Moist is always the best."

There is no better word to describe a good cookie or cake other than moist. But when Stella said it, she lingered on the adjective just enough to make it sound sexual. Very sexual.

"Well, I really want to taste that," I replied. "Lead the way."

Stella opened the building door and started up the stairs. Despite her modest outfits, she always attempted to be stylish.

I tried to imagine her figure beneath the dress. Then, I remembered she was at least 15 years older than me and married. This made me rethink going to her apartment for whatever she had planned.

On the second floor, she stopped to open the door to her apartment, and I looked for a way out.

"You know, I think I'm just going to head up to my apartment."

"No, you must taste my cookies. Each one is like a little cream pie."

Her eyes pleaded with me to come inside.

Cream pie, I thought? Is she that innocent? Does she not know what that means these days?

"I don't want to disturb your husband."

"Aaron is in South Africa. Even if he were here, he couldn't sleep with the bedroom lights on."

There it was again; she was talking about the bedroom. She entered the apartment, and I followed.

Stella's apartment was dark, lit by a few candles. The only light came from the bedroom, shining down the hall.

While the apartment had the same floor plan as mine, which was directly above hers, the decorations showed more taste and an adult style than my Ikea-decorated home.

"Very nice place."

"It's pleasant," she replied, "Small, but I like it. It's close to everything I need."

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom? I really have to;”

"Of course, how rude of me. You know where it is. Oh wait, take a candle with you."

Stella handed me a candlestick with a lit taper.

"The Sabbath," she said. "We don't turn lights on after sunset."

"Oh, that's right," I replied, then entered the bathroom, which was similar to mine.

I placed the candlestick on the sink, then lifted the seat and pulled out my shlong, which was semi-erect from wandering thoughts. Leaning forward so I would not overshoot the bowl, I produced a stream and breathed a sigh of relief as I urinated.

Exiting the bathroom, I saw Stella standing in the hallway, waiting for me. The situation continued to be awkward.

"This is the same layout as my apartment," I mentioned. "Two bedrooms, right?"

"Aaron's office is the other room. I would sleep there, but no bed."

Stella entered the bedroom, where the lights were on. The bed was small, at best full-sized. There was a dress, a vanity, a closet, and some prints on the wall; all tasteful. The windows were open, and the shades were up.

"So, this is the bedroom where I sleep when the light is off."

"Yes, it is, I said, unsure what to say or do next. I looked up at the ceiling.

"I'll be sure to walk lightly. I never thought about someone living below me."

"I never hear you walking, but the vents in the hallway and bathroom let sounds travel so I do hear the odd sound now and again."

The apartment building had old-school radiator heating, but an exhaust duct was found in the bathroom and the hallway, which pulled air through a central duct to the roof and out.

"That older woman on the top floor," Stella mentioned, "she's loud on her phone"

"Sophia? She's a little hard of hearing."

"And the two who moved out downstairs;”

"Rosalie and Tommy."

"They got into some pretty nasty fights."

"Rosalie was quite the character," I added.

Stella looked at me and again gave me that wry, intuitive smile.

"Yes, she was. Wasn't she?"

I looked at Stella to see what she was getting at. Had she heard Rosalie and me through the vent? Had she heard Heidi and me? Both women were insatiable and had no concern about who could hear their moans.

I felt a warm heat on my skin, and my spidey sense told me this was a moment.

"Well, I am ready for bed now," Stella said, taking off her earrings and placing them in a China bowl.

"I'll be heading upstairs then," I said politely.

"No, wait. Please, you can't leave yet until;” Stella chose her words carefully. "Until you've tasted my cookies."

I looked at Stella and went to a near-full erection. She may be awkward, but she had gotten me into her bedroom, suggestively talked about her "moist cookies," and even hinted at hearing me having sex with Rosalie. This was going to happen.

I walked up behind her, turned her around so we were face to face, and moved in for a kiss. Stella's eyes went wide, and she froze when my lips met hers.

Instantly, I detected the lack of reception in her kiss, and I pulled back as she looked at me with a discomfited smile.

"Anthony, no."

I stepped back, embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I;”

"No, no, it's my fault," she interrupted. I insisted you come up here, the candles; I take you to my bedroom;”

"And then you talk about your moist cookies."

"Yeah, those are on the kitchen counter. No, Anthony, you sweet boy, I do need you tonight, but not for that."

"Oh man, I am so confused. I mean candles and;”

"Candles for Sabbath. I can't turn on the lights until sunset tomorrow, so I use candles."

She could not turn on the lights, and that's when it hit me: She could not turn off the lights either.

"You can't turn off those lights, can you?"

Stella looked at me, embarrassed, saying nothing.

"You can't even ask me to turn off lights. You can't do it yourself, and you can't ask. I can't believe what I just did. Please, that was so wrong;”

She smiled, realizing I had now comprehended her true intentions.

"It's fine. In fact, it's flattering. I can't remember the last time someone thought I was attractive."

"You are more than attractive. And maybe we'll laugh about it someday. By the way, the way you talk about your cookies, with their moist center. That's pretty damned sexy."

I walked to the light switch and turned it off. The room was only lit by candlelight now. I glanced at Stella, illuminated by the candle's glow, and marveled at her natural beauty. But the embarrassment was overwhelming, and I only wanted to get out of her apartment.

As I walked to the door, she stopped me.

"Wait."

I turned around to see Stella holding a plate of rugelach cookies.

"A thank you for your troubles,"

She handed me the plate, then leaned in, gave me a matronly kiss on the cheek, and whispered in my ear with a breathy voice, "They really are moist."

Confused, I looked at her again, but she ushered me out of the apartment and closed the door.

I went upstairs to my apartment and put the plate of cookies on the counter. I needed a shower, so I let the water run so it could heat up.

I heard a weak moan as I walked out of the bathroom past the air vent. There it was again. Pulling a chair over, I put my ear to the vent and could hear the gentle moans of a woman near orgasm. With Rosalie having moved out and Sophia out of town, the only woman in the building was Stella. She was pleasing herself, unaware the very air vent she showed me was now carrying her moans of self-satisfaction through the building.

When she was done, I went into the shower and finished myself off, imagining what might have happened if she had not rebuffed my advances.

A few days went by. I heard Stella come home from the market and took the empty plate back to her.

She opened the door and immediately smiled. I blushed as the embarrassing attempt at a kiss came back to me.

"I wanted to return this to you. My mother had a rule that borrowed plates and dishes are always returned in 24 hours."

"It's been more than 48 hours," Stella replied.

"I, umm, was trying to think of ways to apologize for my behavior;”

"No apologies needed. It could be my fault. I can see where the situation might look like I was trying to tempt you."

"Still no, I was way out of line," I said.

"I assume you Googled turning off lights on the Sabbath?"

"I did, and I understand you could not directly ask me to turn off the lights. You were pretty clear in what you were attempting to get me to do, but I suck at party games."

"Well, if it happens again, I'll invite you over for cookies, which will be our secret code for turning off the lights and leaving."

Stella was about to close the door.

"So, a favor, please," I asked. "Can I get your rugelach recipe? I think it would be fun to introduce it to our dessert menu at La Morra. I'm thinking of a black sesame Nutella filling with a hazelnut almond glaze drizzle, maybe over fennel ice cream."

"Wow, that sounds so good, but it's not Kosher. The recipe is yours; just let's hope my bubbe never finds out."

"Bubbe?"

"Grandmother. How do you live in Brooklyn but don't know any Yiddish terms?"

"I don't know any Jewish people."

"You know me, so that's one. Hey, let me cook you a Jewish meal. A traditional kosher meal."

"I don't want to put you out, but;”

"But nothing. Please. Aaron's gone, and I hate eating alone. Let me make you a nice dinner. Traditional dishes. Or is the master chef afraid to try someone else's cooking?"

"I would be delighted. But I will bring the wine. I'm sure your cooking is excellent, but Manichevitz wine is not."

"Manichevitz is vile," she said. "Get two bottles of whatever you bring. How's next Sunday night?"

We agreed to dinner this coming Sunday. I knew she was lonely and needed a friend, and she had made the friend part crystal clear. Nonetheless, I was excited about seeing her again and looked forward to a home-cooked meal.

Two days later, I was recounting my embarrassing faux pas to Sophia, the elderly woman who lives upstairs from me. Sophia had seen Stella outside on the night of the Sabbath a few times. She now knew to ask if everything was okay.

Sophia went to her spare room and returned with two bottles.

"Here are two bottles of 1966 Ghito Duaim. It's the best kosher wine there is. You bring that to your dinner date."

"It's not a date. Its neighbors having a meal together. I eat with you twice a week. Is that a date?"

"If I were 30 years younger, it would start as a dinner date but end up as something else."

"Sophia," I laughed, "are you objectifying me again?"

Sunday finally came. I arrived at Stella's apartment a few minutes late to show it was no big deal. But the truth was, I was nervous. I'm not sure why, but I was.

Stella answered the door wearing an attractive dress with an open collar and a hemline

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 05 Oct 2026 23:06:00 +0000

Portmanteau - No Sleep Til Brooklyn: Part 1

A Sighting and the Wild Thing.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 3 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Author’s note: This is an installment in the anthology series entitled ‘Portmanteau.’ Each vignette of Portmanteau is a multi-part series. A collection of three stand-alone erotic short stories, all loosely associated with each other.

A Sighting.

The elevator was out again; for the fourth time this month; so it would have to be the stairs again. When Sophia was younger, she always took the stairs. But now that she was pushing eighty-five, the elevator was a friend to lean on.

Holding two grocery bags, she looked up the stairs and began the climb to the top floor of the high stoop four-story Brooklyn walk-up brownstone at 143 North 6th Street, known as The Beacon.

The small apartment building had four floors, with one apartment on each floor. All the apartments had the same floor plan; two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Despite the building being old, the apartments were very nice, and the neighborhood was great.

On the first floor, she could hear the loudmouth girl and her motorhead boyfriend arguing. What a pair! It would be nice if they would move, she thought to herself.

At the second-floor landing, she noticed the apartment door was slightly ajar. Inside, she noticed Aaron but not his wife, Stella. She didn't know the man well but knew he was unpleasant. When Aaron noticed Sophia passing by, he slammed the door shut. She felt terrible for Stella. She was quiet and pleasant, but her husband was another neighbor Sophia could do without.

Sophia heard footsteps coming down from the third floor in a hurry.

Anthony Albano, who lived on the third floor, flew down the stairs late, as always. The handsome but chaotic young man was always in a rush, but when he saw Sophia, he stopped.

"Mrs. Katz, please let me help you with those bags," he insisted.

"You're late, Anthony. I can see from your rushing around that you're late. Leave me to my bags. I'm fine."

"I am late. But the cannolis will have to wait until I get you home. How was the market today?"

"Crowded and rude, but they had some filet on sale, which is a treat. I'm making a Béarnaise sauce, and I thought I might;”

"-Béarnaise sauce is so difficult," Anthony interrupted.

"One mistake, and you've made scrambled eggs."

As a chef at one of Brooklyn's only Michelin Star restaurants, Anthony knew something about cooking.

He got her to the door of her top-floor apartment; she keyed open the door and walked to the kitchen, where he put the bags on the counter.

The old two-bedroom apartment was spacious, and Sophia was the only person living there. The walls, which were floor-to-ceiling wine shelves, made the apartment unique. Aside from a couch, a coffee table, and a TV set, the room was entirely covered in shelves full of wine.

The rich smell of wine permeated Anthony's nose as he looked around. His ability to smell intricate details was handy as a chef, and he was always given tasks that required a smell test.

Inside Sophia's apartment, the smell of wine, primarily reds, was pleasant but almost overpowering.

As a chef, he always marveled at her collection. She claimed to know little about wine and attributed the collection to something her late husband, Rolf, had amassed over the years. It was to be their retirement funds.

Rolf died a few years before Anthony moved into the building.

Since meeting Sophia, Anthony had gone out of his way to look after the elderly woman, helping her when he could. She was the grandmother he never had. She saw him as the perfect gentleman and worried about him as a parent might. They were the perfect match.

She would often thank him for his efforts with a bottle of wine. However, when Anthony began to notice that the wine bottles she gifted were frequently worth more than $1,000, he could not accept them. Later that night, there would be a knock on the door; Anthony would open it, and that $1,000 bottle was waiting for him.

"Sophia, I can't let you just pan-fry that filet. It would be a crime, and I don't think you understand how hard a Béarnaise is. I'm home early tonight. Let me cook them for you, or better yet, let's grill them on the roof."

Anthony knew that's what she wanted. She was lonely and liked the company for dinner, but she knew he could not turn down a cooking challenge.

"I'll bring the wine," she replied.

"Please, nothing worth a small fortune."

"You can't take it with you, so please let me enjoy it with company."

"Fine, you do the wine. I've got to run. I'll see you this evening."

Sophia smiled. Anthony was her guardian angel, and she cared for him like the child she never had.

As Anthony headed down the stairs, he laughed at himself. Once again, Sophia had tricked him into cooking her dinner, but the payoff would be an expensive bottle of wine and the company of the only genuinely kind person he knew in New York.

As Anthony passed the door to the first-floor apartment, he was startled by the sound of something hitting the door from the inside. Concerned, he paused, wondering what to do, but then he heard Rosalie, the apartment tenant, let out a long moan from the other side of the door, followed by rhythmic creaking.

Anthony quickly realized she was not in distress but quite the opposite. It wasn't yet 10 AM, and she was getting fucked against the door, most likely by her big boyfriend, who always parked his car in the red zone in front of the building.

The door muffled Rosalie's voice, but he could hear her barking commands at whoever was riding her. Anthony was tempted as any man might to stay and listen, but he was late and let himself out the front door to find Stella, his second-floor neighbor, sitting on the stoop.

Stella was an Orthodox Jewish wife in her early 40s. She was attractive but always dressed modestly and wore a head covering. She did little to complement her many beautiful features.

Although she was shy, she always brightened when she saw Anthony.

"Mrs. Rothenberg, good morning!"

"Anthony, hello. Please, call me Stella. You make me sound sold old with the Mrs. Rothenberg."

"Of course."

Stella was sitting on the stoop listening to Rosalie's fuck session, which was audible through the partially open window and open curtains.

"I hope Rosalie doesn't keep you and your husband up at night with her; her noises," Anthony whispered.

"She can be loud, but I applaud her passion. But when she has daytime sex, I come out here to make sure any children don't hear it. I sing songs from the Torah to drown her out."

As if on cue, Rosalie shouted, "Oh fuck, baby, fuck it so hard."

"I hope you can sing loud," Anthony said with a smile as he walked away.

Two kids came by, heading to the park, and Stella began singing the ancient Hebrew song, Ana Bekoa'h loudly, which did its job. The children moved on rather than hear songs from the Sabbath on a Tuesday morning.

Across the street, a casually dressed man walked up the steps of 144 North 6^th Street, holding two Starbucks cups. He glanced across the street at Stella singing her songs of the Talmud and watched Anthony walk away. The man entered his building called the Normandy Arms.

Surveillance duty in Brooklyn had perks. There were great restaurants nearby that had curbside service. The apartment the FBI had rented was nice, with parking in the back.

Two of the four apartments in the apartment building they were surveilling had attractive women living in the units who rarely bothered to lower their window shades. Since the FBI had tinkered with the old building's heating system, all the residents tended to keep their windows open, which made watching them all the easier.

FBI Agent Marty Gordon entered the third-floor unit to find his partner, Barry Rooney, watching out the window with high-powered binoculars. Four video cameras on tripods focused on each floor's front bedroom window.

"What did I miss?" Marty asked as he checked the to-go boxes to see which was his.

"The third-floor guy is heading out to his job. On the fourth floor, she's examining and checking some wine bottles."

"Can you see the labels? Good stuff?"

"No, not with these binoculars. On the second floor, he's hyped up again. He's been on the phone for an hour, getting agitated. The wife is sitting on the stoop singing or shouting."

"She's singing; I just heard her as I walked in. Some Hebrew song. Ground floor?"

"Fucking again. Well, at the very least, she is fucking him."

Marty came over and took the binoculars to get a view.

"It's ten in the morning. Didn't Sorvino say they fucked last night?"

"That girl wants it, and considering who her daddy is, if she wants it, she gets it," Barry added.

"Is Mrs. Bin Laden still singing?"

"You know she's Orthodox Jewish, right? You might want to get a better nickname for her," Marty remarked.

"Everyone gets a nickname. Her husband looks like a terrorist, so she gets to be Mrs. Bin Laden."

Marty shifted his view to Stella on the stoop, who continued to listen to Rosalie have sex and occasionally sing when people passed.

"I think that Jewish lady wears a wig," Barry said in passing. "I saw her come out of her bathroom after a shower, and she had black hair, but now she's a light brown with blond streaks. She has black pubes, so the carpet should match the drapes. Should I log that in?"

"I told you, she's Orthodox Jewish. The women keep their heads covered. Lots of time, they wear wigs for that. Don't write it in the log, or we'll have to explain why we are watching her when she's naked, and Sorvino will get pissed."

"She doesn't shave her armpits enough," Barry added, "the way that building heats up with the radiators broken, she must stink."

"She doesn't shave her cunt either. I don't see you complaining about that." Marty replied.

"Refreshing these days with all that bald cunt running around, Barry said. "I miss pubic hair."

Barry's focus went to the first-floor window, where the woman they had labeled the Italian Princess stood naked over a man sitting on the couch waiting. She gyrated, gently fingering herself as he watched in anticipation. She then bent her knees slightly, bringing her cunt into his face. The muscular man wrapped his arms around her ass, pulling her open slit to his mouth, and began to taste her while she kept her balance by holding his head.

"I think she's doing that cream pie thing 'cause I swear he finished inside her," Barry commented. "I guess it's an early lunch for him. Oh, wait, Mrs. Bin Laden is heading inside. She was definitely out there listening to the Guido girl getting it."

Marty laughed. He knew they were breaking protocol. If anything intimate happened during surveillance, the procedure was to view it from a distance. However, since no women were on the day shift, he and his partner took full advantage of their surveillance gig and made sure to watch for any nudity or sex.

"When Sorvino was sick last week, I took the night shift. It was a porn shit show. The first-floor girl, she was doing anal while sucking her own nipples. I'm sure of it. The guy on the third floor was banging a black chick, and the second-floor girl was using a candle in her cunt, to jill herself off at the same time. Freakin' triple feature. Sorvino's so lucky to have the night shift."

"What about the old lady on four?"

"She drank a bottle of wine next to the open window and just listened to all the fucking going on below her."

By now, the couple on the first floor finished the sexcapade. The young woman got up and headed to the bathroom as her muscular boyfriend stood in the window, not caring who might see him naked. His post-ejaculated cock remained thick, dripping a mixture of cum, saliva, and female fluids. He stood proudly, looking at nothing in particular, liking nothing more than to show off his cock in this state.

"I'm going to miss this assignment when it ends," Marty added.

Surveillance.

Anthony stood over a charcoal grill on the building's roof as the sun set. Rooftops around the area were known as tar beaches and a nice escape from the city streets below. The views were excellent, and the breeze was cooling.

Mrs. Katz arrived.

"I can smell that from my apartment."

"It's such a nice night. Let's eat al fresco," Anthony said, gesturing to an old table and chairs left on the roof for years.

Thirty minutes later, Anthony and Mrs. Katz ate the filets while sharing a bottle of wine. Anthony took a sip and savored the incredible flavor. He studied the label.

"Domaine Comte de Vogüé Musigny. What will I find when I Google this?"

"Sells for about $3,000 a bottle," she replied nonchalantly.

"Why are we drinking it?"

"Because before tonight, there were only six bottles left in existence. Now, there are five. I own all of them. Do you know what they are worth now that there are only five? About $6,000 a bottle."

"So, you just made $15,000 by us drinking this bottle?"

"I did. And thanks for the help."

"Are you going to tell me how you came to have such a valuable wine collection?"

"My late husband. He fancied himself a wine expert. Me, not so much. He was an artist, a sculptor. When he sold something, he purchased wine with the profits. But who cares about the wine? What do you want to do? Don't tell me you like making pastries for that restaurant."

"I came to New York to be a chef. I don't mind the baking, and they treat me well at La Morra. But I hope to open a restaurant in Portland, Maine. I've only been there once, but I know the space and have a menu I know will work."

"Then go to Portland."

"I need the experience of working in New York, and I need to get backers to finance that dream."

"A charming young man like you, you'll get that money. I know it."

Anthony and Mrs. Katz talked about his future way into the night.

Across the street, in the surveillance apartment, Agents Gordon and Rooney watched in boredom.

"Have the odd couple finished their dinner yet?"

"Just about. He's helping her down the stairs. Hey, where is Sorvino? Our shift ended an hour ago."

"I make it a rule not to question Sorvino. Ask your boss too many questions, and it never ends well."

We’ll continue this scene in part 2. And now, our first vignette,

Wild Thing.

Friday was Anthony's first night off in several weeks. All he wanted to do was watch the Yankees play the Red Sox. Cable TV in his Brooklyn apartment building was out, so he walked two blocks to the Piccolo Venezia, a nice bar and eatery on the corner. He took a stool at the bar, ordered an orecchiette with scungilli and neonata sauce and an IPA, and savored the food while watching the ball game. Sure, he was back in a restaurant. But this time, as a customer, not a chef, and all he had to do was savor the food, not prepare it.

The game was in the second inning, and he was on his second beer. The service was never fast at the Piccolo, but the wait was worth it.

Several mob-looking twenty-something guys came in and took up the rest of the bar seats. A meaty-looking guy had a seat next to Anthony, so he scooched over to give him space.

"Fat Tommy, get the fuck out of my seat," a female voice said in a thick Brooklyn accent. Anthony turned to see his downstairs neighbor, Rosalie, pulling the big guy off the bar stool beside him. He readily complied and chose to stand. Rosalie turned to the big lug beside her and kissed him on the cheek.

"Sorry, I'm late baby. I had things."

The big lug was her live-in boyfriend, Tommy Funiculi. He was huge and menacing and did not bother to return Rosalie's affection.

She ordered a Bellini and then noticed Anthony.

"Hey, Anthony from the upstairs!" she said with a smile.

She didn't know his last name and always called him Anthony from upstairs because he lived in the third-floor apartment of their four-story, four-apartment building. She grabbed Tommy by the arm.

"Tommy, look who it is. It's Anthony from upstairs."

Tommy politely smiled and lifted his beer, saying only "Saluda."

Anthony awkwardly returned the gesture.

"So, Anthony from upstairs," Rosalie started, "you got a date here with you? Don't tell me you're drinking alone."

"I came here for the ballgame. Cable's out."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Tommy pulled out the main box for the building. He's got this thing where he thinks the FBI is following him. I assume you're a Yankees fan."

"Would you hate me if I said I was rooting for the Red Sox?"

"Actually, I might knife you. Fuckin' Red Sox. What's your problem?"

"I'm from Boston."

"No shit. I love Boston. Tommy, you hear that? Anthony from the upstairs. He's from Boston."

"Albano," Anthony added.

"He's from Albano. It's near Boston, I guess."

"No. My name. Anthony Albano. So, you don't have to call me Anthony from upstairs."

"Italian boy. Nice. Where are your people from?"

"Palazzolo."

"Sicilian. Madone. Let's not mess with this one. A Sicilian. So, Anthony from Sicily, what do you do? What's your job?"

"I'm a chef. Over at La Morra. I'm working on it anyway. Right now, they have me doing the pastries.

"I love La Morra. God, that white pizza. To die for. Oh, the desserts

Kittridge Compromised: Part 8

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 15:11:00 +0000

Kingdom Hall Tribunal

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

Eldon Kittridge gathered his family that Thursday night to attend a Ministry School meeting at his local Kingdom Hall. During that meeting, various members of the congregation prepared and delivered sermons based upon the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society's interpretation of scripture.

Male members stood at the podium unassisted to expound upon Watchtower doctrine. Younger males were groomed by reading directly from the Bible. More experienced males used intricate and often complicated logical stretches to drive their points home. Jehovah's witnesses practice a rationalistic religion.

Female members did not address the congregation standing at the podium. Rather, two or more females took the stage to demonstrate various persuasion techniques. One female would pretend to be a random homeowner in the field. The other female would demonstrate how to explain JW eschatology and or, how to handle various doctrinal objections.

Men always ran the meetings. These men were called 'elders'. Typically, they were the more experienced Christians in the group, it being their job to 'shepherd the flock'. These men strove to set a fine moral and spiritual example for the congregants. Too, they were tasked with keeping the congregation clean of sin.

Eldon Kittridge was an elder. On this particular Thursday, Eldon was in charge of the Service Meeting. He gave a fifteen-minute talk. He also was in charge of introducing the other speakers. Typically, these consisted of other elders and deacons working their way up through the church hierarchy.

As a young man, before his ex-communication James was a critical cog in this hierarchy. He had congregational privileges that included giving talks, passing microphones around during Bible discussions and proselytizing.

James' sudden ex-communication stained his family's reputation in the congregation. Whereas, at one time the Kittridge family was held as a model of Christian values, now the family harbored an unrepentant sinner.

Eldon Kittridge was torn about this loss of face. Eldon did not grow up in 'the Truth'. He was a convert. Eldon's wife Abby grew up as one of Jehovah's witnesses, but left the fellowship just months before meeting Eldon. Both of them were now fervent adherents to the faith. James' sin was a slap in the face. Technically, he was a grown man now, even though he was still a high school student. Eldon Kittridge could set a fine congregational example by emancipating James. This would be viewed by the congregation as appropriate discipline, and necessary to bring James back into the fold. James knew that he was being considered for emancipation, a nice way of saying he might get kicked out of the house.

James did not attend Kingdom Hall that night. Fanny did. She sat through the meeting in moral horror, knowing that she, too, existed in the midst of great mortal sin. Fanny bore the weight of guilt, believing that her brother were incestuously fornicating. It was a case so shocking that, even as a participant, Fanny was taken aback.

The siblings had not been intimate since the prior Sunday, which left Fanny both hurt and perplexed. She'd tried everything to bring James back to his penile worship between her thighs. Nothing seemed to work. As the meeting droned on and on, Fanny shuffled in her seat. Her panties were wet. She was ashamed of her wetness in this holy place.

Fanny looked over at her mother Abby. Abby Kittridge locked onto each speaker with a laser-like focus. Every word spoken from the podium came straight from Jehovah's organization and, as such, was worthy of her strict attention. Abby Kittridge was as hardcore a disciple as there was. If the Society said it, she believed it, and that settled it. Periodic changes in their doctrinal stance didn't bother her; New Light was God's method of advancing truth. Old Light was God's method of weeding out malingerers.

Abby Kittridge was no malingerer.

The meeting adjourned around nine thirty p.m. Various families got up to socialize. Absences were noted and asked after.

(No one asked about James. He was dis-fellowshipped.)

Of the fellowshipped, the time taken to renew the bonds of family and friendship is often noted as the best thing about Jehovah's witnesses. Eldon Kittridge and the other elders made it their business to connect with as many congregants as possible.

On the ride home Abby and Eldon interrogated their children about major points of the meeting. Abby made sure that her children were properly indoctrinated.

Each meeting, to Abby, was a spiritual feast of information, none of which could be wasted or taken for granted.

If the truth is told, just as Fanny's panties were wet with lust for her brother during the meeting, Abby's panties were wet with spiritual lust afterward. There were no Thursday night meetings where Abby's middle-aged libido did not require her husband's attention. She and Eldon exercised their marital due on each such occasion.

Upon arriving home, the Kittridge parents asked after the younger children's homework, though homework was a secondary consideration to meeting attendance. Fanny and James could and should have completed their homework on a non-meeting night. Neither of their parents could have helped much. The youngsters bathed and dressed for bed. Fanny cleaned the kitchen. Eldon Kittridge checked James' room and found him languidly searching the Internet.

"Brother Morgan gave a fine talk tonight. You should have been there," he said.

Bob Morgan was a close friend of James', that is, until James 'left the Truth'. They hadn't spoken since. Eldon Kittridge's comment constituted a reproach. James nodded his head in acknowledgement.

By eleven p.m. the younger Kittridge children were in bed. Abby Kittridge checked her refrigerator for breakfast supplies. Eldon checked to see that all the doors were locked. Fanny retreated to her downstairs bedroom. The family's natural Thursday rhythms were intact.

Eldon Kittridge climbed the stairs to his second floor bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him, turned, and found his wife standing there in her see-thru negligee.

At the age of forty-seven, Abigail Kittridge was still fine. Four children had exited her womb; Abby retained a goodly number of her youthful assets. Her breasts stood nicely. Yes, she was a little thicker around her mid-section and some side bacon, but she could still look down between her tits and see her pubic mound. Her skin was a nice shade of cocoa. Her waist dimpled nicely before spreading into a dowager black woman's ass. There was no sag in her cheeks or chin, nor was there any cottage cheese pitting in her behind.

She stood in the midst of her bedroom, almost naked, posing for her husband. They fucked every Thursday, Sunday and Tuesday without fail, and had done so for the past twenty-three years.

Eldon Kittridge had seen this woman fully naked on thousands of occasions. The vision of her cunt no longer aroused him. He still looked forward to fucking her. Abby crawled into bed while Eldon doffed his clothing. Her negligee remained in place; she preferred to have him take it off her.

In bed together, they did not kiss or fondle. They were far past these pedestrian pursuits. Instead, they lay side-by-side, each using one hand to masturbate the other. Abby jacked Eldon erect; Eldon fingered Abby wet. Neither option took very long.

With his phallus only partially turgid, Eldon mounted his wife in missionary. She directed his pliable phallus into her port. Starting slowly, Eldon's phallus firmed up as they went. Abby always looked forward to this initial stiffening. Once they got started, Eldon was very longwinded. He regularly fucked her through any number of orgasms. Abby wasn't shy about expressing herself sexually. When she really got going, she would often slip and verbalize vulgar expletives of joy.

Missionary sex comprised the bulk of their repertoire. Eldon licked Abby's tits and cunt from time to time. Abby never sucked his dick. Nor was anal sex an option. They followed the unspoken rules of Christian sexual behavior. What Would Jesus Do? Abby's devolution into scatology while cumming was as far as they delved into freakiness. Once, she'd even uttered the phrase "Fuck me!" Eldon chastened her immediately. That type of talk smacked of the world.

Tonight, Eldon's uncircumcised phallus lengthened as it hardened. Abby always looked forward to this phenomenon. He started out at one thickness, improving under the impetus of her cunt until he was exponentially thicker. Abby began to groan in conjunction with his endless thrusts.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Ah! Uh! Oh! Shit!"

Her groans amplified in intensity and loudness as Eldon worked himself into a lather. He knew the clasp and the slide of his wife's Cunt well. He knew that it worked best after a spiritual reckoning at the Kingdom Hall. This was "old" cunt. Eldon was never in danger of capitulating before her wiles. Rather, he counted her orgasms, actively seeking amplification, and ready to inseminate her at any moment on his own terms.

For years after the birth of their last child, Abby Kittridge relied upon birth control. But she'd abandoned those artificial methods of late, even though she was still capable of pregnancy.

Tonight, Eldon’s strident thrusting tippled her sensual triggers early on. She climaxed loudly twice. Abby Kittridge was climbing Jacob's Ladder to a third orgasm when she sensed an anomaly in the Force. There was a low, thumping noise, almost imperceptible, driving in the background. At first she thought it was the sound of her headboard bouncing against the wall. She slowed her pelvic gyrations. The sound persisted abnormally before quieting.

Abby and Eldon went back to work. Gradually, the low, thumping hum returned, continuing until just after Abby and Eldon quieted again.

She looked at her husband. He'd heard the sound, too. Parents have antennae for unnatural, late night sounds in their home. Inasmuch as the sound died out, Eldon continued the task at hand, that is, stroking a hot piece of cunt.

On five separate occasions the low, thumping sound came, out of rhythm with the couple's efforts. Each time they sought to identify it, the sound disappeared.

Finally, Eldon withdrew his phallus from its place of honor. He threw on his bathrobe and stepped to his bedroom door, intending to seek the source of the sound. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and stepped into the hallway. Pausing, he heard nothing. He waited. The house was silent.

Eldon retreated to his bedroom. He stepped of his bathrobe. Abby would see that his tumescence remained. He mounted her again, but before they could pick up where they left off, the low, thumping sound returned.

Aggravated, Eldon clambered from the bed and eased back out into the hall. Nothing. This time he waited, suspecting he knew the source. James was masturbating in bed.

Normally, a father with an eighteen-year old son concedes that his boy masturbates. All boys do it. Eldon himself had been a ruthless masturbator as a teen.

As an elder, however, Eldon Kittridge had to consider the spiritual cleanliness of his home. James, already disfellowshipped for sexual immorality, was on thin ice anyway. Eldon put his ear to James' bedroom door. Initially, he heard nothing. Slowly the thumping noise returned.

Eldon turned the knob slowly so as not to be detected. James' door was locked. The room had one of those Spam key locks. Eldon reached up to get the key from the doorframe. Even more slowly than before, Eldon unlocked the door. He hoped to catch his son in the act, embarrass him and add this incident as another straw for the camel's back.

Bursting suddenly into James' room, Eldon was astounded to find his daughter Fanny, ass naked, mounted atop his son James. They were fornicating.

Eldon's sudden entrance caused the naked siblings to explode in an effort to dive under the covers. This effort was largely wasted. Grown people know sexual activity when they see it. Eldon was shocked speechless. He didn't need a second look This was not masturbation. This was sin, the likes of which he'd never considered possible.

Fanny burst into tears.

Abby Kittridge now joined Eldon Kittridge standing shocked in James Kittridge's doorway. Fanny's tears became an outright wail. She and James were cold busted.

James and Fanny Got Busted.

Eldon Kittridge took his wife into his arms. She was distraught. Slowly, the two of them stepped away from James' doorway, closing the door behind them. Eldon suppressed the urge to kill both his eldest children. Instead, he deterred Abby's urge to do the same. They waited.

Fanny burst from James' bedroom, fully clothed now. She raced past her parents down the stairs, intending to hide in her room.

"Hold it, young lady," came Eldon's stentorian voice.

Fanny expected this. She paused at the foot of the stairs without turning to face her parents. The family was in a moment of crisis. Hiding in her room was not going to erase her sin.

James didn't wait to be called. He trudged to his doorway in his underwear, knowing that recriminations and consequences (all bad) were imminent.

Eldon led his wife and the incestuous James downstairs to the dining room table with a heavy heart. Abby Kittridge's measured breathing bespoke her rag

Kittridge Compromised: Part 7

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sat, 03 Oct 2026 15:09:00 +0000

The seduction of James.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

Some months earlier.

Next door, Delphia already harbored a boatload of semen in each of her most southern ports. She lounged in James' bed, laying her head against his stomach. His dick was in her face. Delphia sucked him casually, tenderly, in lieu of their earlier violent encounters. James seemed possessed in his eagerness to empty himself of seed. He hadn't been reticent about probing Delphia's fundament, indeed, had been eager to do so.

Redolent of both entrances to Delphia's southern split, James' cock was magnificent. Delphia marveled at it. She nursed at it gratefully now, savoring the odor of their sex. There is no more sensual odor in the world than a reeking, wet set of human genitalia. Delphia had been fascinated with phalluses since she first noticed that her older brother Tony possessed a protuberance she lacked. She'd even noted her brother's wake up erection on occasion. Delphia looked down at her own quivering clit and found it wanting. It rarely poked far from between her bulging labia. Tony's cock dangled.

Now James' cock resonated under her nostrils, hard and veiny and straight. His balls ballooned from its base. James was circumcised; his bulbous cockhead was purple/brown, his shaft and nuts were coated in semen and a meringue of pasty white cunt froth; to Delphia a sumptuous delight. Delphia bobbed on his cock voraciously, leaving a trail of spittle along the shaft. James lay back with his hands locked behind his head. This was heaven. If she kept this up, soon she would be choking down another load of spew.

Delphia had other plans. She suckled James' cock as she'd seen pornstars do in the videos she'd secreted on her iphone, using the tip of her tongue to excite him, using her luscious nubile lips to coat his cockhead in opulence. Her luscious lips were well suited for the task.

Delphia's ass was slick with seed. Their first anal experience had been frantic. She wanted him to mount her from behind again. This blowjob was just a precursor to that end. When James' hips began to rotate in conjunction with her roiling slobber, Delphia knew he was again ready to fuck.

Instead of tooting her ass up for his consideration though, Delphia straddled him. She eased her shaven cunt down and about his cock. James was mesmerized. She situated herself atop him, burying his phallus fully inside her. When she felt the smooth bulb of his cockhead budging up against her cervix, Delphia began to twerk, slowly at first, but with ever increasing vehemence. Soon the young couple were hate-fucking, punishing each other with pelvic churn.

James was not willing to be outdone. His pride forced him to retaliate in kind. He wanted to reward Delphia with a scorching case of the shivers, even as he.

When she felt herself ready to cum, Delphia slowed noticeably. She wanted to hold his phallus fully engulfed inside her cunt, pressing James' cock against her sweet spot for maximum effect. She positioned her twat such that each and every penile insertion generated a riot of cataclysmic electrical impulses in her brain.

Delphia soon exploded into bliss. She snapped, lunging and thrusting like a demon possessed. At the moment of detonation she attacked James' phallus with an unholy orgasmic rage. Her tits flopped manically. Her mouth flew open. Delphia snarled wildly in the extremis of her abandon.

James, however, was still in competition mode. He rammed his cock up Delphia's cunt throughout the entirety of her orgasm, gripping her ass cheeks tightly in his palms, thrusting vigorously. Delphia's orgasm doubled under James' fervent assault. James was so focused on hammerin' dat cunt that he missed the subtle tremble of a Cunt in musk. Delphia's pink Cuntl muscles caressed his phallus delicately in anticipation of eruption, teasing him, tickling him, suckling his manhood with feminine tremble. It was as if she had a slithery forked tongue down there, dancing expertly across the sensitive nerve endings in James' cock. His fervor fired past her finely tuned climactic fuck quake.

When she could take no more of James' manly thrusting, Delphia slumped atop him. Her bald cunt lips were scorched. Happily, James hadn't cum. His cock pulsed inside her cunt like a living thing. She felt it throbbing down there, felt its heated sizzle, felt his heartbeat pounding through its expansive penile tissues, yearning to fill her chasm with his jam. Any further insertion was bound to leave smoke trails.

Mindful of Delphia's incapacitation, James eased his phallus from her Cunt's steamy grasp. She seemed reluctant to release him. It was as if their merger had created a vacuum that held him tightly in place. When his cock tip finally appeared at her entrance, Delphia's inner cunt lips extended obscenely outward in an attempt to retain a measure of clasp.

Finally, James' dick popped free. Frantically, he scrambled up behind her, lifting her hips upward that he might find a separate portal for his passion. Using his thumbs to press Delphia's ass cheeks open, James exposed her cream-filled sphincter. He wanted another go at it. Delphia smiled wearily.

"He's getting better and better at this!"

Without taking aim, James pressed his cockhead against her opening. He pushed forward. Delphia's anus slowly widened to accept him, first the tip, then the crown, then the shaft. At its widest point Delphia gasped. She knew he was thick, but each new insertion reminded her of her boyfriend's girth.

With the helm encompassed, Delphia's anus snapped tight about his shaft. Delphia was relieved. Getting it in is always the most stressful part of anal sex. Now she only had to deal with his length. Soon, she knew, his balls would be slapping happily against her vulva. Her rectum being already lubricated with cum, James cruised easily inside. Delphia steadied herself in anticipation of yet another comprehensive drilling. How many more of these could she take? She rotated her ass sensuously, like a bumblebee, to further engulf him.

James started slowly. This was his second visit to the muscular grip of a woman's poop chute. He grasped Delphia's hips to establish a rhythm. Looking down now, he enjoyed the vision of his phallus parting Delphia's brown eye, basked in the sensation of her creamy ass sliding back and forth along his pole. As he ramped up the action, Delphia's moans of pleasure added animus to his zeal. Soon James was rocking Delphia's ass with smash. Her head snapped back and forth with each thrust. His balls swung back and forth, flapping against her resurgent clit.

Delphia loved it. James' mattress squeaked extravagantly to the rhythm of their intercourse.

By and by, however, the teen couple became aware of another muffled sound, the sound of a headboard bouncing off a wall. James immediately paused his thrusting. His bed consisted of a simple box spring and mattress on the floor. It had no headboard. And yet the muffled knocking continued. Delphia looked over her shoulder at her lover.

"What's that?" she whispered.

They both knew the answer. James' parents slept in their room just above his. They were fucking.

Delphia had often heard the sound of her own parents' headboard, usually about this time of night, as they extracted their marital due, assuming their children were asleep. Delphia's own mother was not shy about screeching her passion into the night. Her distinctive timbre was unmistakable. From childhood, Delphia knew and wondered over what caused her mother to moan and curse so uncharacteristically, accompanied by the rhythmically knocking headboard and her parents' squeaking box spring. She knew, too, the sound of her father making positioning demands and his subsequent groans of satisfaction.

James' parents weren't so verbal. They were Jehovah's Witnesses. They fucked, but didn't make a big production of it. James heard their bed squeaking sans the moaning, cursing and exorbitant sexual demands. James knew that his parents' headboard would knock rhythmically for a time, faster and faster, until a final loud bump. After this there would be an eerie silence, followed by the sound of running water in the bathroom, muffled conversation, finally contented snoring.

"Do you think they heard us?" Delphia wondered.

"No." James whispered.

He knew that, if they had heard, they would be downstairs in a flash. There would be hell to pay. Delphia would be sent home. The rest of the night would be spent in prayer and recriminations.

The truth, however, was that if they had heard James' bed squeaking at four in the morning, James' parents could never imagine the true reason for it. Such a thing was just impossible for their Christian home. That the girl next door might be downstairs with her cunt wrapped around their son's dick would never occur to them.

James' phallus was still rock hard inside Delphia's ass. He wanted to cum in the worst way.

Delphia, however, was spooked by the realization that his parents were awake just upstairs, probably doing the same thing.

"Jamesy, I'd better go," she said.

"Wait! Wait!" he cried, as she pulled away from him.

James needed to finish. He was still several strokes away from completion.

"No, James! I don't want your mom to come down here and catch us. We can finish later!"

James tried to hold her in place as he strove to empty himself inside her asshole. Delphia was insistent. She eased off his cock and reached down to snatch up her things. She knew that her friends were, at that moment, in her brother's room doing god-knows-what. She also knew that it was time for her to go home. The knocking headboard upstairs had reached its zenith. Delphia wanted to be out of there before James' parents, whom she always referred to respectfully as Mr. and Mrs. Kittridge, came back to reality. She couldn't afford for them to catch her like this. James had already busted two nuts. She'd attend to him later.

A routine of absense

By the time the family was dressed and ready for evening services, James and Fanny were playing out a scenario by which they left no basis for suspicion. Fanny dressed in a humble calico skirt; typical raiment for a humble servant of God; fully buttoned from the neck down. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. She moved slowly, as if in pain, to justify missing the meeting. She made desultory facial expressions to suggest that missing this meeting came at great emotional cost.

James disappeared into his upstairs bedroom. Despite his parents' encouragement, James had taken to missing meetings of late. Eldon Kittridge took note. When James’ senior year ended, James had some decisions to make.

Fanny began to clear the dinner table of scraps. She put the food away and stacked the dishwasher, needing to be seen as a contributing member of the family unit. Her spiritual struggle continued. Predictably, Fanny's sensual nature was winning. She knew all too well that, as soon as her parents' car disappeared down the street, she and James were going to assault each other like animals in heat.

And that's what happened, too. No sooner had the taillights on the family SUV glittered away before James swept his sister up in a crushing embrace. She'd been unable to unbutton her plain-jane "around-the-house" dress before he was upon her. Groping under her calico skirt greedily, James was astounded to find her fully naked beneath. He also found a soft sheen of sweat that Fanny had been carefully hiding. James dipped his middle finger into a puddle of fur and wanton lust simmering at the juncture of her thighs. His phallus leapt. James struggled out of his pants. Seconds later his phallus was immersed in that puddle and adding nitroglycerin to it. They came in tandem. Each gripped the buttocks of the other as they strove to extract the fullest measure of their crazed, wanton intercourse; still standing.

Their parents had not been gone four minutes.

James and Fanny held each other tightly as the swoon of orgasm dissipated in a hazy murk of charred arctic ice. They sweated cheek-by-jowl. Any stilted movement brought forth an un-detonated jerk of latent climactic fervor. Under the pressure of gravity, James' semen flowed down her thighs, cooling as it went. Fanny squeezed his barrel-shaped phallus viciously, hoping to drain the dregs of his passion.

At this she was successful. James' cock softened by degrees under the heat and pressure of Fanny's dripping honey pot. Fanny was sure that he was about to slip out of her naughty purse. There came a point, however, where his flagging phallus seemed to say: "Enough! Stand and fight!" James' cock, eighteen years old, ceased receding before the Cunt that had mollified it. It began to forge its way, slowly and steadily, deeper into the recesses of Fanny's sticky pie.

Fanny was glad.

James scooped his sister’s ass up in his arms. Fanny wrapped her arms tight over his shoulders and her thighs tightly around his waist. He tossed her up to a better fit and carried her downstairs to her bedroom. It was time for them to fuck. Once there, he laid her down, marveling again at her womanhood. Fanny slipped free of her dress, then grabbed a bath sheet and spread it over her bed, to contain the overflow of juices. Her tits resonated. Then she laid over the center of the towel, on her belly. Her peach-like Cunt gaped open. With the right sort of eyes, one could see her lust bubbling forth. James could see his cream curdling between the super pink walls of her exposed labia. His phallus ratcheted upward. Fanny scooted up on her elbows to look over her shoulder, and watch his progress. She opened her legs by way of encouragement, disgorging a bubblet of semen in the process.

James crawled up between her thighs. His cock was, again, massively erect. Both of them watched his advance, as if in slow motion, upon the soaked and throbbing object of his desire. When his testicles dangled against her slit, James took his cock in hand to drum it against her luxuriant bush. Fanny's clit peeked out from its enclo

Kittridge Compromised: Part 6

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 15:08:00 +0000

Fanny Kittridge Loses Her Religion.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

It took several weeks for young Fanny Kittridge to succumb. She'd personally witnessed her brother and his girlfriend fornicating orally on a number of occasions. One cannot witness human copulation without wistfully wondering after one's own participation in the Mating Game.

Fanny was not a virgin. Unlike her brother's public confession, she'd fallen from grace last summer, repented quietly without consequence, and stayed within the good graces of the Kingdom Hall Church.

A good number of Jehovah's witnesses repent their sins silently without being publicly reproved.

In Fanny's case, she'd given up her virginity to one of Tony Gangel's uncles repeatedly over the course of a worldly holiday. She'd enjoyed the experience in the moment, and repented her sin after the man went home. From that time to this, she worked on her spirituality while struggling to refrain from delving back into the sensuality that experience had unleashed. Seeing James and Delphia fornicate so lavishly caused her to lose her battle against masturbation. She was almost twenty years old now. Like most young people, her loins were afire from the moment she awakened daily.

Fanny was sexually curious. She began to seek opportunities to see James' phallus rise. It was a personal fetish. She'd be lurking in the hallway in the mornings when James exited his bedroom and made his way into the bathroom. His morning woody was always evident. It was always hidden in his boxer shorts, protruding like a third leg. Fanny wanted to see the real thing. She'd seen it in the darkness of their backyard, just before it was hidden again inside Delphia's Cunt. The glimpse of her brother's cock helped as she toyed with her own genitalia.

James now informed Fanny that he was skipping some classes to fornicate with Tonya Castillejo, Penny Fowler and Sonjia Metusek. Fanny insisted that he describe each interaction in detail, taking pains to describe what each girl did to make him cum and how it felt to have their buttocks pressed against his pelvis. She made sure to give him the smarmy JW look of disapproval. But she listened intently nonetheless.

"You'd better make sure mom and dad don't find out." she cautioned.

At night, Fanny would imagine herself to be Tonya, Penny or Sonjia. She imagined James atop her. She imagined his phallus thrusting deeply in her Cunt, masturbating to this vision. She would cum. Afterward, Fanny felt embarrassed and ashamed at her incestuous diversion. But her devolutions into this magical fantasyland occurred with ever greater frequency. Her prayers did little to assuage her lust.

Fanny wondered if James harbored similar prurient thoughts. Try as she might, she could not rid herself of the vision of lying prone, mounted beneath him. James was the only person she'd ever witnessed having sex. Sure, she remembered her encounter with Joey Strong in great detail. But as time went on it was James' sweaty face growling his lust atop her, not Joey's. James was the only person she knew that might understand her fetish. They could never be in love, she was taught. They simply shared a love of having intercourse. Fanny listened intently as James described his angst at being celibate. He was not. No, James had occasional relief. Fanny had none. She yearned to tell him of her predilection, but could not bring herself to do so.

Instead, she found every occasion to surreptitiously measure his endowment and compare it against her own. She even made it her business to give him "unintentional" nipple slips and/or cunt shots. She then watched his reactions, always proud to see that her efforts bore fruit. James' phallus tented at the drop of a hat. Fanny’s ashen skin was constantly in need of lotion, to restore the golden ebony luster she contented herself with. She was not allowed to ‘paint her face with cosmetic vanities. So one day when she was at the local beauty supply shop, her lusty cravings were arrested by a display of lotions un a long plastic squeeze tube, capped by a big half round cap, which was as wide as the nearly two inch diameter. That tube was one her nightstand every night, and could be found in the shower with her, the next morning. After about 8 weeks, she returned to the shop for a new supply. To her delight, the shop had a special shipment of ‘bonus size’ lotion tubes. Instead of the normal 8 once containers, which were about 7 inches long over all; the new promo featured 12 ounces and with the semi spherical cap, it was a whopping 10 inches! Fanny bought two, and purposed to keep one of the tubes full. She just had to remember to take it to the shower every morning to keep it from smelling like ‘cunny’.

For a while Fanny to sate herself with the make-shift dildo, but it was not the real meat she lusted after.

Finally and inevitably, this little dalliance came to a head. Fanny chose a weekday in which James' complaints about his lackanookie peaked. She waited for the moment when James stepped into the shower and their father was at work. Mrs. Kittridge was downstairs cooking. Fanny gathered her courage, stripped her clothing (except for a bathrobe), and slipped into the bathroom as he showered.

James didn't hear her come in. The radio was playing, the shower was loud, the bathroom was steamy. James lathered himself from head to toe. He began to stroke himself. James masturbated languidly every time he bathed. He had to.

Fanny scooched her bathrobe up and sat on the toilet. She peeked behind the shower curtain to watch James. His eyes were closed. His cock was hugely erect, hidden beneath a foamy cloud of soap bubbles. Fanny suspected he would masturbate until he came.

This wouldn't do.

Fanny stood. She doffed her bathrobe to stand naked in the middle of the bathroom floor. She needed to catch James' attention without seeming to be too forward. Thinking quickly, Fanny bent to reach under the sink, making sure to knock over a few cleaning bottles, making enough noise to make her presence known.

Astonished at not being alone in the shower, James peeked out from behind the curtain. He was even most astonished to witness Fanny from behind, bent over, her neatly coifed cunt blazing confidently from between her buttocks. Already aroused, James' phallus leapt. What was Fanny doing standing naked in the bathroom while he showered? Look at that ass!

Fanny continued to piddle around under the sink. Swaying her ass sensually, she knew James was gazing at her cunt from behind. She wanted him to have a good, long look. She'd done as much as a girl could do. It was his move now.

James' mind raced. Instinct told him to pounce on that ass and ram it in. But this was his sister! More than that, this was his only friend and confidante in the house. He could lose her if he made such an inappropriate move without her consent.

And yet he wondered, why was she even in there? It's not as if she'd been in the bathroom first and he'd barged in on her. Fanny's presence was no accident. If she'd needed to pee so badly, there was another bathroom downstairs. Plus, she was naked! Who goes looking for Comet cleanser in the nude? Something had to be up.

Now a wicked thought occurred. Fanny had been really persistent, lately, to hear tales of his exploits. She'd made him go into detail and questioned him closely about the smallest minutiae. She'd wanted him to describe every sensation he felt during his sexual escapades, claiming an ignorance of the male perspective. Maybe, just maybe, Fanny was signaling her readiness for a walk on the wild side? It was worth a shot, anyway. She now stepped her feet out, apart, as she fidgeted with the various bottles on the counter. The vanity mirror was fully steamed.

Leaving the water running to mask any sound, James stepped naked from the shower. Streamlets of clear, hot water pebbled and ran down his chiseled body. His cock, already erect, locked onto Fanny's open cunt like a lurking jaguar. He stepped onto the bath mat, then up behind her, intending to accidentally-on-purpose bump his dick up against her cunt. He hoped she'd jump to the moon and they each could have a good laugh at the expense of the other.

Creeping up behind her quietly, James didn't have to point his dick into her crease. Fanny was still bent over, unaware of his proximity. Her ass swayed before him. From this position their genitals were perfectly aligned.

James watched intently as his cock zeroed in on her cunt. He couldn't believe that Fanny hadn't detected his presence behind her yet. Most people can sense the nearness of another individual if the intruder encroaches too closely. James' toes were almost touching Fanny's heels now. In another millimeter, the crown of his dick would press her fuzzy opening. James watched the impending collision with fascination. That first merger of cock and cunt is always the most erotic of any ongoing tryst.

Closer and closer still. Now Fanny's pubic hair began to tickle James' urethra, allowing him to sniff the heaven shielded behind her clasping labia. James drew a deep breath. He was almost there. A small nudge forward and his cockhead was bathed in the translucent stickiness of a queen cunt. Fanny's cunt yielded before his imminent insertion.

But Fanny did not jump or shriek. She set both hands down flat on the vanity counter, and held her ground before James' penile assault. In fact, she didn't seem surprised at all. She looked back at him as if he'd interrupted her while working a crossword puzzle at the kitchen table. Her look bore a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. And yet her hips continued to twerk gently, allowing James' phallus purchase at the opening to her Cunt proper.

It was James' turn to be surprised. Kittridge dick rested in the valley of Kittridge slit. Not all the way in, but not all the way out either. Fanny was amazingly wet already. James was already familiar with the ethereal joy of a sloppy wet cunt. The slightest thrust would bathe his cock in incestuous slather. And here Fanny was acting as if the whole encounter were an entirely natural interaction between assuming siblings.

James placed his hands upon her quivering buttocks. Still, Fanny didn't move away. An eternity of indecision ensued. Did she want to fuck? Because James' cock was certainly engaged and raring to go. But this was his older sister! Did he want his sister to suffer the same congregational shunning that he was currently enduring? No, he did not. And they were practically best friends! How would their relationship be affected by this impending action? Ramming your dick up a woman's twat always complicates things; it never simplifies. James was morally torn.

Ultimately, of course, James' phallus made the decision for him. Holding Fanny's ass steady, he pressed forward. Her cunt expanded widely before closing sloppily along the line of his veiny shaft. Four inches of cock disappeared into her Cunt. The familiar blinding wave of initial insertion engulfed James' sensibilities. Fanny did not demur. There could be no doubt. This was consent.

They were officially fornicating.

Fanny unleashed a full body shiver. She'd waited an eternity for just this outcome. She'd trusted James with news of her secret affair with Joey Strong. She'd held her peace during James' religious inquisition. James was the only person she could fully trust. And now his dick was easing its way up her ass. So thick! So deep! Fanny shivered again. They began to roil in tandem.

James suddenly pulled out as he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist. Fanny placed her hands over his, keeping the connection understood. Without words, he pulled her gently from the counter and guided her to the far side of the large shower. Once she was facing the tiled wall, opposite the source of spraying water, he slid his hands back, and grabbed both her wrists. He placed her two hands high on the tiled wall. This silent act confirmed his intent to copulate from behind her beautiful peachy ass.

A typical woman's Cunt is arched to accept a seven-inch phallus from the missionary position. An erect cock slips into this arch like a glove so that all her erotic zones are in play. Her tits, her lips and, most importantly, her eyes are fully engaged as a dick probes her cunt.

From behind, however, it's the reverse. The upward arc of a man's cock gouges an unintended wedge in the reverse arc of a cunt. The result, for women, is an unnatural pressure that makes a dick feel thicker and heavier. Such a dick is capable of roiling greater surface area, eliciting deeper penetration. It exaggerates the illusion of size. Often, doggy-style sex creates air pockets in Cunts, and facilitates a blunt slapping of a woman’s ass by her man’s pelvic surface; which generates that thwacking noise, so critical to the perception of "great energetic sex".

Fanny's senses were fully engaged as her brother sluiced his phallus into her. Normally, such first encounters ended quickly and awkwardly, followed by the shame and embarrassment of having one's fantasies so exposed. Fanny did climax quickly. She hadn't been fucked in several years. She was more than ready to be righteously railed.

James wasn't so disposed. He wasn't "in love" with Fanny, indeed, had never fantasized about her. Only the sight of her exposed punani while he was masturbating led to this encounter. Plus, his recent activities gave him a measure of immunity to new cunt. When Fanny skittered downward from her orgasm and realized that James was still back there pounding away, she was grateful. She knew that the aftermath of this fuck was likely to be an uncomfortable change in their relationship. She wanted to explode into bliss several more times before that happened.

Fanny straightened. She pressed her sweaty left cheek and both her tits against the wall, poking her ass out, that James might have a better target. She spread her legs a bit. The rhythmic slapping of their intercourse reverberated throughout the little bathroom, though the running shower dampened the sound. James reached around her hips and held Fanny's ass steady as he rammed his cock into her. Fanny quivered uncontrollably. Soon this would be over. There would be consequences, maybe some regrets. But right now Fanny's biology was dictating her behavior. She needed this in the worst way.

"Oh god, it's Good!" she thought. "I can repent in silence again. And I will. But right now I need this. Oh God, I need this!"

James' thick phallus was a tremendous balm for Fanny's smolder. Delphia had really taught him well. He reached around to caress her full, dangling breasts even as his cock continued to thunder home. In. Out. In. Out. Each thrust bouncing Fanny off the floor. She was enthralled. Her only other sexual tryst had been (repeatedly) quick and violent. Joey had mounted her missionary; the two of them came (repeatedly) in tandem. Today's encounter was Fanny's first attempt at doggy-style.

It was not James' first. Two orgasms in, James knew it was time for a little rump rangery. Still s

Kittridge Compromised: Part 5

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 15:06:00 +0000

Kurt Takes Twat Lessons.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

At the end of first period Paula Fuller happened upon a casual friend, Kurt Kuhlmann, Denise Allen's boyfriend. Paula and Kurt had several classes together; they had a casual relationship. Paula served as Kurt's occasional confidant, a relationship that came about due to Kurt's friendship with one of Paula's ex-boyfriends. Kurt and Paula's friendship outlasted that relationship and had taken on a life of its own.

"Hey Kurt!" Paula challenged. "Whatcha doin'?"

Kurt responded, "Meh. Have you seen Denise? I can't find her."

Paula was aware of Denise's "every three days" rule and the rationale behind it. (Denise liked being blasted with a cum tsunami as opposed to a series of smaller pops.) Paula empathized with Kurt. She listened to his gripes about being subject to Denise's cunny ration.

"It's Thursday!" Paula laughed. "You must be ready!"

Kurt's look of woe contradicted the happy face he usually displayed on his scheduled days with Denise.

"Uh-oh," Paula cautioned.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Kurt groused.

He could hide his disappointment at being shunted aside by his girlfriend. His "acceptance" of Denise's caveat that morning had caused a rift between them. Sharon Minor had recently given him a mini-blowjob to assuage his fragile ego. Still, Kurt sought out Denise, hoping that she might re-consider. He mentioned most of this to Paula, all except the mini-blowjob part. Secretly, he hoped Paula might follow Sharon's lead. Paula would certainly be less empathetic given knowledge of Kurt's congress with Sharon.

Paula Fuller went to her second period class consumed with concern over her friend Kurt's problem. Of course, she knew all the pertinent details. Kurt wasn't shy about spreading his business around. She often assured him that most boys his age cum as soon as they get it in. Women expect it. It's not the first insertion that makes for an enjoyable fuck session; it's usually the third, Paula suggested, when a man's cock sensitivity has diminished.

Paula knew that this fact would do little to allay Kurt's ego. She knew, too, the person most in need of this bit of insight was Denise. Alas, she and Denise weren't close enough to discuss the vagaries of unprotected Cuntl sex. If Paula even deigned to broach the subject, Denise would know she'd been having intimate conversations with Kurt.

Even as Paula considered Kurt's plight, she was mindful of her own need. Where was that damned James Kittridge? He seemed to be possessed of an unusual measure of stamina. Their sessions earlier that week had been decidedly memorable, cooling Paula's rampant Cuntl burn with precision. Paula was in dire need of a top off. Perhaps she might find James and use him to clear her mind, using his dick.

That was her intent, anyway.

Paula rushed from her second period class to the school gym, hopeful of heading James off at the pass. Her blood was up. She'd gone without the day before. She thought that James might be amenable to a quickie, maybe not with dick, but certainly with some tongue. Her cunny moistened with anticipation.

James was nowhere to be found. He didn't even show up to gym class. Dejected, Paula trudged off to her third period class. She passed Denise Allen in the hallway and nodded a cordial hello. Denise recognized Paula as part of Kurt's extended circle. She didn't know the nature of Paula and Kurt's friendship, but didn't think much of her. Denise acknowledged Paula's nod rather less cordially than it had been offered.

It was a diss. Paula took Denise's coolness as a slight. They were women. Cattiness came as part and parcel of the genre.

Now it occurred to Paula that she might have a card to play in this newly perceived melodrama: Kurt Kuhlmann. Kurt and Denise were at loggerheads, right? And this friggin' cunt had the nerve to friggin' diss? James might not be available, but Kurt certainly was. Besides, he was a friend. And he needed some attention. Right?

Resolutely, Paula went in search of Kurt. She snagged him just as the third period bell sounded. He was already seated in class. Paula peeked into his classroom. She caught his eye and gave him the "C'mere" look. Kurt immediately responded, stepping into the hallway beside her.

"Listen," Paula said, "If you've got a few minutes to spare, I want to talk."

"Sure," Kurt said.

"Kurt, I've been thinking about your problem. I keep trying to tell you that it happens to all men, but you don't want to listen. If you like, I can show you a few things that might help."

"Whaddaya mean?" Kurt responded quizzically.

"I saw your girlfriend in the hall a few minutes ago. She dissed me for no reason. I don't like her, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't. I can show you some things. Maybe you can get her back. If you want her."

This was Sharon's schpiel, too. Kurt immediately recognized Paula's offer as booty call. How Denise's diss metastasized into a booty call wasn't his concern. First, Sharon had given him a mini-suck. Now Paula wanted in on the game. Kurt reckoned that his relationship problems tended to be cunt magnet. He resolved to have more of them.

"Show me some things? Like what?" he asked, already knowing the upshot.

"Follow me," Paula advised.

By now the school hallways had cleared considerably. Paula and Kurt had the main thoroughfares to themselves. Paula explained her rationale.

"Kurt, this problem you have with Denise's, er, 'snapper', is very common. I've told you this before. You get it, in, and all of a sudden its over. That's good for you. But it's bad for her. From what you've told me, she doesn't seem to mind if you're, quick. She minds that your, your, 'Money shot', isn't forceful enough. Do I have that right?"

Kurt nodded in agreement.

"OK. You're lucky. Most women want you to have a little more stamina. As I see it, what you need is a method to stock up on blast fuel. That way, when you , 'Finish', she can feel the, 'Rush."

Again, Kurt nodded his assent. In his mind he was thinking that Paula was going to suggest an artificial supplement that suppresses semen delivery while narrowing the delivery pipe, thus increasing the force of delivery. He'd done some PVC sprinkler work; the concept of successively narrowing pipes to increase delivery pressure was familiar to him.

Paula continued.

"Kurt, what you have to do is put it in, move it around a bit, and then pull it out just Before the, Finish, becomes inevitable."

"Pull it out?" Kurt wondered, bewildered at the thought.

"Yes, Kurt. Pull it out. Pull it out and don't touch it. Let it catch its breath. Then try her again."

"I don't know if I can do that. It all happens so fast."

"Well, the idea is to develop a tolerance. It's like taking a hit of cocaine. The first time you do it, it blows you away. Maybe the second time, too. But after that it takes more and more cocaine to do the trick. You develop a tolerance. You need to develop a tolerance for, you know, cunt."

"But she can suck me or we can do it up the booty and I don't cum too fast," he commiserated.

"We're not talking about her mouth or her ass, Kurt. We're talking about her CUNNY."

"She cums when I put it up her cunt," Kurt protested.

"Yeh, but she wants a quality orgasm, Kurt. There's a difference between cumming and CUMMING."

"So what do you suggest?" Kurt asked.

"Well. I didn't want to do this, us being friends and all. And you can't make too much out of it. I'll only do it this once. You understand?"

Kurt was very aware of where this conversation was headed. And very appreciative.

Ten minutes later Kurt and Paula were naked together in the back of a throwback Dodge van in the school parking lot. The vision of Paula's hairless Cunt had Kurt's phallus rocketing skyward. He didn't know that her shaven cunt indicated, to her female friends, a recent sexual encounter.

"Wow! You have a big one!" Paula mused, pointing to his lumbering cock. "I don't think I can take it right off the bat. Can you lick me before you stick me?"

Actually, this was a lie. Paula was fully capable of engulfing the big ones on sight. She was already wet. She just wanted some head. What girl doesn't? Kurt readily agreed. What boy wouldn't?

Paula lay back on the van's faux shag carpet, opening her legs for Kurt's consideration. He marveled at her nakedness. Her proportions were perfection itself. Paula's tits were pink and perky, and they wobbled like peach gelatin, ever so slightly each time she moved. Her abdomen, too, was free of excess, not athletically tight, but very softly feminine. Of course, her navel was an "innie". There was a freshness about her that contrasted nicely with that glint of lust in her green eyes. Her smile was guileless. She had two rabbit's teeth that were a bit larger than her others; her lips mimicked the heart shape of her vulva. They were red and sensual without the addition of lipstick. She looked as if she'd been born to suck cock, her mouth a second, more esurient, cunt.

Too, she went fully shaven. There were no hints of pubes under her pits or between her thighs, not even a smidgen of stubble. Even her forearms and calves went shorn.

And her cunt? Get right outta town. Bald as an egg! Paula had two bubbly labia majora and two luscious pink labia minora guarding the entrance to her canal. Crowned with a fat little pliable clit, her exposed slit would make a dead man cum. She sparkled with gleam. One could eat at her Y for hours and not go unsated.

She certainly didn't have Denise's soft pelt of curly ebon down between her legs. Kurt had no way of knowing that Paula's golden carpet had only been recently scraped away. (High school boys are always fascinated by a woman's pubic mound, hair and all, reasoning that any fifth grade girl can be bald down there. High school girls don't tend to know this; they shave their pussies according to the most current beauty trends.)

Kurt was a huge fan of Denise's fuzzy pelt though he didn't mention it much. In fact, it was the silken slide of Denise's luxuriant twat that usually engendered his ejaculate.

Paula's shaven cunt was nice. Kurt thought he could give her a poke with some measure of restraint. He knelt between her thighs to inhale that first obligatory sniff of paradise.

There's always something about that first sniff. People in long-term relationships know the sniff intimately. It grows on them over time. Like fine wine, it becomes a source of comfort, an opiate, a safe port in a storm. All other things being equal, that first sniff of poonan can keep a couple seething in lust for decades.

Too, every cunt in the world has its own unique aroma. At its best, it's sultry. Sweltering. Alluring. When that aroma tweaks the right olfactory nerves the sex can be amazing. Scent is easily the most powerful of the senses. It's why jungle cats pee on trees.

Paula's cunt whispered of riotous wildflowers, rhododendrons, fine tawny port, dick, and Lagerfeld cologne. One might easily imagine flocks of hummingbirds hovering manically about her cleft, competing for the privilege to siphon sips of her most intimate Cuntl nectar.

Paula smiled up at Kurt lazily. She knew the dizzying effect her cunt bouquet had on men. Having Paula's radiant cunt before him now, inches from his face, Kurt was appropriately dazzled. In his wildest dreams he'd never thought he'd get the chance at both Paula Fuller and Sharon Minor in the same lifetime, much less the same day.

Kurt nudged his nose into her cleft. From this proximity, Paula's cunt seemed almost magical. He drew a second, more personal, whiff, savoring the flavor. Paula could feel his hot breath coursing breezily over her shaven labia. She always loved that part.

Men!

But it was also lesson time. Paula got down to brass tacks.

"I'm going to let you suck my cunt for a little bit, Okay? I like it. I think you'll like it, too. It gets me wet for when you go to put your dick in. If you like, I can suck you, too. What's important is this: You must not cum. I want you to note each time you are ready to cum. Try to find the point where it's inevitable. Stop just before you get there. Whether it's in my mouth or my cunt, if you want to get past all this cumming too soon, you have to get used to being inside me. You understand?"

"I think so," Kurt replied. He was already read

Kittridge Compromised: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 30 Sep 2026 15:05:00 +0000

Facing Delphia.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

After dinner with his family’s skepticism and disapproval, James had to set things right with Delphia.

Delphia was dissatisfied with James' explanation.

"Walked home alone after missing the bus"?

What stopped him from answering her texts along the way? It's a good little walk.

She'd also been dissatisfied with their quickie in the stairwell at school. James had cum too quickly both times. He'd pulled out before she could get her shiver on. Hadn't she taught him better?

Delphia felt that James should be beyond such amateurish performances by now. She'd skipped out of class that day to get her cunt pummeled. It had been pummeled, alright. With Jizz.

She made her dissatisfaction known via text.

James was worried that his parents might investigate his phone and find incriminating evidence. Delphia's descriptions of their interactions had become increasingly graphic. Tonight she demanded that he meet her out back and fuck her properly. It just wasn't fair that he busted his nuts twice that day and didn't think about her sexual needs. How inconsiderate could he be?

James wanted to tell her that Fanny knew of their congress. Delphia didn't think much of Fanny. She thought Fanny to be a phony. Delphia knew certain details of Fanny's sex life. Delphia felt that Fanny was a self-righteous hypocrite. (She didn't feel the same way about James.)

James demurred. He was worried that Fanny might be up late watching his every move.

Any man that waffles over a direct cunny offer, is going to raise questions. Delphia was no different than any other woman. James, she felt, should be willing to move heaven and earth to get at the cleft between her legs. Any man would. So when he stammered in reply to her offer, her suspicions about his earlier explanation rose to the fore. What had he been doing?

James noted her suspicion. He'd lied to her about his whereabouts. Turning down cunny was another thing altogether. He decided to meet her that night, but he said it would be better if they "did it" at her house because, he lied, his parents were getting wise.

This tempered Delphia's suspicion some. James didn't necessarily have to fuck on a school night. He just needed to be willing to fuck. After all, hadn't she skipped out of class to meet him in the stairwell earlier that day? James should be just as willing to crawl out of bed at 3 a.m.

Delphia suggested that they meet in the stairwell before third period gym class this time. And she wanted some head, she said.

"And you'd better be there," she cautioned.

She put her phone down, reached into her panties and started masturbating.

James pointedly made sure to delete their text thread. It wouldn't do to have his parents find and examine his phone.

Doing the Nasty for the ladies.

When James opened his eyes he was lying on his back on the couch. Elena's luxuriant auburn-haired snatch stared him in the face. How he'd gotten from "Whatchu wan' do?" to this preternatural face-mount eluded his sensibilities.

"Just sniff it, James," he heard Elena whispering from above. "Don't touch it. Don't lick it. Just sniff it."

James did as he was told. Elena's mind boggling cunny scent was a better opiate than Viagra. James' cock stood at full mast, preening for wetness.

Elena's sister Lillian now straddled his cock, reverse cowgirl. She held his nuts in place with her palm, pointing his cock perpendicular with her thumb. Presumably, she planned to ease her cunny down upon it, hilt him and start the milking process.

A minute passed, then two more. Lillian continued to twiddle his cockhead between her wettened cunny lips. James became concerned. What was she doing? Without friction, saliva or cunny froth, he might lose tumescence. He knew that Lillian's cunny was down there somewhere. He just couldn't see it.

And yet his cock lunged for the rafters. Something was animating it, some unknown ethereal force. Was this the new thing that Elena hinted?

In truth, James' cock was held erect by cunny scent, both north and south. Elena's puffy cunny lips animated his nostrils. Lillian's extravagant cunny odor animated his cock. His cock "smelled" her Cuntl opening.

James looked up into Elena's eyes. Her voluptuous tits swung gently as she undulated her cunny before his nostrils. Elena caught his gaze with a loving look of her own. She ran her fingers through his hair. They'd never fucked. She intended to correct that oversight. Elena may have had an extensive casual sexual history, but she genuinely liked James. He was a good kid. As with Tony, she and her sister would harbor James' phallus between their legs as an extension of their mutual affection. Well, maybe not so much in Lillian's case. She was obviously here as a means of getting back at Tony. Elena's intentions were purer. She hoped that James' cock could withstand the furor of both their Puerto Rican pussies.

"James?" Elena whispered.

James caught her eyes without responding.

"James? Do you want this punanni? ¿Quieres esta coño? Do you want to lick it? To sniff it? To stick it?" she whispered invitingly as she rotated her cunt before him.

James shook his head yes. Elena obviously knew how to ramp up properly. She knew enough to know that men love to hear women say the word "punanni".

"James?" Elena continued.

James began to tremble. He wanted to cum.

"James, I want you to put your cock in my punanni. I want you to let me ride it nice. I want you to make me cum. You've got a big cock. I like that."

Cock flattery. Another aural aphrodisiac.

"James?" Elena whispered.

This was maddening.

"James, I want you to fuck my sister. But I don't want you to cum in her. I want you to cum in me. Can you do that for me, James? Cum? En mi coño?" (in my cunny)

James knew he could not. The first poon that slid down his pole was in for a sloshing. That coño looked to be Lillian's. The sight of Elena's swaying cunny and her verbalizations were, indeed, different that anything he'd ever experienced. James would cum if an animal touched his cock. James would cum if it was an insect. Elena's husky voice had him on the verge.

"James?" Elena said again.

James could barely keep his eyes open. He was on the razor's edge.

"I want to suck, your, cock, James. I want you to cum, in, my, mouth."

James lunged, barely missing Lillian's hovering cunny. Lillian pivoted away. She knew what Elena was doing.

"That's it, James. PUSH it in. Just like that. All the way in. I need to have you inside me." Elena whispered. Her clitoris blossomed before his face.

James smashed his face into Elena's cunt. Lillian pressed her smoothly pearled clit into his urethra and then down along the split in his cockhead. James came. His jism soaked Lillian's entrance. Lillian squeezed his nuts gently, kneading them to extract all of his available ejaculate.

Elena stepped away from James' face. Lillian now stepped up to straddle James' face. She scrubbed his face in her slit, cum and all. Elena knelt between his spread legs. She took his phallus into her mouth. James hardened again almost immediately

"I told you so," Lillian said.

James lapped at Lillian's jism-soiled cunt with relish. He was still dizzy from the force of his eruption. Elena's suggestive erotic whispering unleashed a surprisingly voluminous cache of spunk considering the amount he'd been spraying lately. That his cock had recovered so quickly was just another facet of Elena's fecundity.

Now James was ready to fuck. He'd been whispered free of a scorching nut. He wanted to be properly drained. There were two magnificent pussies in the room. A hard cock doesn't always observe the Man Code.

Stung to action, James pushed both girls aside. He positioned them next to each other, doggy-style, on the couch. Their pussies pulsed sensuously from between their ass cheeks. Elena had done the bulk of work leading to his first nut. He wanted to save her for last.

James moved up behind Lillian. Her cunt was slick with jism. He took his cock in hand and pointed it deliberately at her clit, the same clit that had so lustily pressed his urethra. Instead of thrusting into her open cunt, James began to twiddle her clit with his cock. Lillian started to groan. She wanted him to just go ahead and shove it in. James remembered her "cunt scent" tease from moments before.

"Lillian?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" she responded thru her lustful haze.

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he said.

This seemed bold for him, she knew, all the more so since James was not known to ever use the word "fuck". He was a Christian.

"You've never had a cock like mine up your cunt. ALL the way up."

Lillian squeaked. Tony wasn't this assertive.

"Lillian?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to fuck the SHIT out of you. Then I'm going to suck you. Then I want you to suck ME."

He ramped up his clit play.

"Um-hmm," she assented.

"Lillian?" he whispered.

"God damn it, James! Put it in!" she raged.

James obliged her. He rammed his cock fully into her cunt, nine inches of unfettered blacksnake in one go. Lillian shrieked. James pulled out. He went back to toying with her clit. Lillian's arousal was frustrated. Her clit was happy, but her hole went wanting. She endured another minute of James' teasing before erupting again.

"James! Stop teasing me!"

James slammed her with a thunderous double tap of surge. Then he pulled out and went back to twiddling Lillian's clit.

"James!"

He snatched her up so that her ass was aloft. Gripping her waist, James smashed his face between her ass cheeks. James then tried something he'd seen on the HBO show "Girls". He motor-boated, blowing extravagant flatulence between Lillian's cakes. Lillian almost died of pleasure. Tony, in fact no one, had ever blown bubbles up her ass before. The young girl was ecstatic. The presence of James' semen made the move all the more erotic.

Elena looked on anxiously.

James motor-boated until Lillian's writhing reached a crescendo, rubbing his nostrils between her cunt and her ass, humming air bubbles into both holes, eliciting sexual flatulence. James stepped up behind her. Using his cockhead, he went back to painting Lillian's clit in pud.

"James!" she cried out in frustration.

James smiled sardonically. He paused dramatically for effect, then inserted his cock into her shaven cunt. Lillian's cunt melted about his shaft like butter in a hot frying pan. He began to fuck her wildly. Each manly thrust caused Lillian to quake jaggedly. She attacked his thick, pulsing cock with the fury of a woman scorned. She crazed her way thru the torture of a monstrous orgasm. Fucking Tony's friend like this was payback for the Tony's infidelity.

Without waiting for his command, Lillian disengaged and turned to gobble James' cock. She'd cu

Kittridge Compromised: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 15:03:00 +0000

James hosts a pole party..

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

"Don't cum in my mouth," Paula mumbled.

Men hear that a lot. The first retort that always comes to mind is "Where in the fuck do you Want me to cum, bitch?"

But that comment is rarely uttered aloud. It is also largely ignored. Any woman with a scintilla of cock-sucking ability is going to get an unexpected mouthful of jizz from time to time. What she does with it afterward is her own business. She can swallow; she can spit. Just as long as jizz exits the cock, the guy is happy.

At least, this is how men view it.

It was becoming increasingly evident that Paula had more than her share of cock sucking ability. James looked down to see his chocolate cock probing Paula's ruby lips. Trails of spittle bubbled from the sides of her mouth. Larger bubbles arose, expanded and burst as Paula bobbed on his boner. Her cunt sweat accentuated her fecundity. Paula's moans became increasingly strident. She was really going at it.

At first Dina and Sandra viewed Paula's fellatio as an honorable debt payment. Now it occurred that their friend may have stumbled into something here. Can a woman have an orgasm while slobbing knob? Paula's moans put that premise to the test. She looked to be enjoying herself.

James was fucking Paula's mouth now. He rammed his cock into her throat as a man on a mission might. Paula unstrapped her bathing suit. She fondled her breasts before reaching down to finger her hairy twat. Things were going well.

It soon became evident that James was going to cum in Paula's mouth. It became just as evident that Paula was on the verge of an orgasm; one couldn't tell whether it was due to the cock in her mouth or the fingers in her puss.

Sandy Monk stepped in to pause things a bit.

"Paula, let me have a go," she asked timidly, not sure if Paula would be willing to give up her spot at the faucet.

Paula gasped. She released James' cock and crab walked backward. Sandy was surprised at how easily Paula conceded, until Paula stepped naked from her swimsuit. Taking her cue, both Sandy and Dina began to disrobe. Paula's extravagant fellatio had all three women desirous of a more comprehensive sexual experience.

James saw all this. And whereas he'd originally planned to erupt in Paula's throat and discreetly make an exit, now his horizons expanded greatly. Perhaps it might be possible to multiply the names on his cunt resume in one fell swoop.

Sandy took a spot kneeling before James. She'd unstrapped her swimsuit. Her tits swung free. Paula, fully naked now, leapt back into the fray, taking up a position along James' shaft. Dina too, fully naked, knelt on the other side of James' lengthy cock. All three blondes began to worship at the temple of James' manhood. He couldn't believe his luck.

As one might expect, the opulent penile attentions of three beautiful women sent James into an orgy of pleasurable anguish. His balls swelled. James struggled to suppress his burgeoning ejaculate. He didn't want to cum and slump. James wanted to Fuck. He wanted to penetrate and burst alive in each of these heaving Cunts and so have a story he might share with his grandchildren. Few teenagers ever breach such a threshold.

Each girl licked and nibbled his phallus in turn, lavishing at the tip. Of the three, Dina was most experienced. James thrilled as Dina titillated his pole with her oral expertise. Paula and Sandy looked on with awe as their "leader" demonstrated the intricacies of a good, sloppy blowjob.

James took as much of this triple play as any young man might. When he felt his body swaying over the cliff, he pushed Dina back onto the couch with her legs askew. He mounted her, immersed himself and, in seconds, drained his nuts into her cunt. Dina hadn't been fucked in weeks. Her vulva sported a neat, newly grown, silken blonde carpet. Tomorrow, that carpet would be gone.

James withdrew from Dina's cunt with a half-hard phallus soaked in froth. He turned to Paula. That wise chick immediately knew the score. She lay back on the couch and raised her legs in the air. James mounted her, finding her smoking hole with little difficulty. She was wet; her entire southern split reeked with desire for pole. Paula used her prehensile cunt lips to suck his semi-hard cock into its natural home. After getting situated, they began to fuck. This was the third cunt James had visited that day. In no time the young man was fully hard again. Paula felt his cock firm up and lengthen inside her. She was glad and a little dizzy. James sported a big 'un.

James fucked Paula with a vengeance. They'd secretly liked each other for some time. This was their first chance to sate their curiosity. They began to kiss. Paula offered up her firm tongue for James to suck even as her cunt creamed about his thickness. Paula's breath resonated with the aroma of James' cock. Too, James could detect a side order of Delphia's cunt on Paula's breath, courtesy of his cock.

They kissed extravagantly. Paula went to give him a hickey, thinking to mark her territory. Like a shaven cooch in the shower, at that school hickeys were indicative of recent sexual activity. Too, such would advertise the loss of James' virginity (James and Delphia notwithstanding. Their sexual escapades were not common knowledge). Paula had no reason to think him "taken".

James didn't care to be marked, though, and deftly worked his way free of Paula's intended neck suckle. Withdrawing from her cunt, he turned her over, face down. In the next moment he pointed his cock between her firm ass cheeks and into her twinkling stink-eye.

"Uh-uh," she demurred. "Put it back where it was. Hurry!"

Apparently, they weren't far enough along to go the anal route yet.

James obeyed, slipping his cock a little south, past Paula's curly Cuntl tresses and back into her fragrant punani. Paula groaned. His cock was so big! She'd been fucked doggy-style before. None of those prior phalluses breached her asscheeks to reach this far into her core. Paula bit her lip and set herself for a well-earned drilling.

James' quick detonation before Dina's steaming Cunt earned him a measure of immunity against Paula's luxuriant sexual wiles. Paula did not have the same sexual inoculation. She climaxed moments after James entered her, clenching his cock tightly. She came again two minutes later with a seething rage and an epic trembling palsy.

Using his thumbs, James pulled Paula's ass cheeks apart so that he might better enjoy the sight of his pole disappearing in and out of her luscious cunt. He'd used that move repeatedly with Delphia. It never failed to heat the jism firing his loins. He especially liked the vision of his cock helm appearing from between her squishy pink labia before plowing forward into her depths. Paula's cunt was almost Delphia-like in its effect, an opiate unrivaled. James reared back to slam his sausage deep into her recesses. Paula swam in a murky film of lust emanating from her baby-maker. She reached back to encourage James to cup and manipulate her tits. Shockwaves of thrust moved like a Japanese tsunami up and down her stolidly feminine frame.

Paula was working towards her fifth explosive orgasm of the day when, unexpectedly, the chasm at the juncture of her thighs suddenly emptied of cock. Through her orgasmic haze she turned to find James mounted over her friend Sandy.

Sandy was the "Velma" of the College Blondes. She was short and a little thick. Her entire body was covered in freckles Of the three women, she had the nicest ass and the thickest thighs. Her cunt bulged from between her ass cheeks; her clit split her cleft lengthwise. It was rumored that going down on Sandy was reckless; her thighs could crush skulls and walnuts with equal enthusiasm.

Now James' cock was roiling in her cunt-pining' for the fjords, as it were. He'd achieved the much-vaunted triple. Sandy stood on one leg, gripping the back of the sofa with her hands for balance, her other leg lodged against James' shoulder. She was performing a standing split while James serviced her preternatural need for thunder. James gripped her tits for balance.

From this position Paula could see that Sandy's inner cunt lips were unnaturally large. Each time James withdrew, a good portion of Sandy's inner pink cunt followed his cock outward. Paula remembered the movie "Alien" where the extraterrestrial creature had a "mouth within a mouth". Sandy Monk had a "cunt within a cunt". Paula looked over to Dina with surprise. This was a good thing to know once the College Blondes all got together to rib each about their sexual proclivities.

Just now Sandy wasn't paying Paula much attention. James gripped her by the neck and her left tit. He was wearing' dat cunt out. Clearly, the boy had regained some semblance of restraint. His cock churned up Sandy's cunt so expertly that both Paula and Dina had hope for a rematch. James didn't have that "I'm getting ready to cum!" face. Rather, he had the "I'm getting ready to make You cum" face.

Women tend to prefer the latter.

When Sandy was on the verge of collapse she dropped both legs to the ground. She made James go at her cunt doggy style, this being her preferred mount. James spread her ass cheeks and inserted himself, gripping her tits from behind. Sandy arched her back perpendicular to receive the heft of his thrusts. His cock raked back and forth over her most sensitive cunt parts with power, depth and precision. Her "cunt within a cunt" protruded obscenely. Sandy bit her lip in her ardent desire to quell her burgeoning orgasm.

She failed.

As her body flailed in abject capitulation to the cock whipping her cunt raw, Sandy began a profane sexual chatter.

“Fuck me! Oh My Gawd! Fuck! Shit! Oh, Gawd! Harder! Your Cock! It’s so big! James, fuck! God damn! Oh, my cunt! Fuck my cunt! Harder!

Paula noticed that Sandy's inner cunt was no longer pink. It was blood red as it gripped James' phallus' withdrawals, extending almost a full inch and a half from its normal home hidden behind Sandy's labia majora. James bent at the knees to deliver crushing fuck bombs of throb. Sandy shrieked to the heavens.

Like any normal teen, Sandy masturbated daily. None of her masturbatory fantasies compared to this. She could not have imagined that this Christian boy could make her quake so comprehensively. "Soft" was the adjective most often used in school when describing James. He was disproving that maxim today by the minute.

James soon noticed that Sandy's "cunt within a cunt" was losing its tenuous grip. Sandy was fucked out. James, however, wanted another go at Paula. When he pulled his erect phallus from Sandy's cunt and indicated that rematch, Dina objected.

"Hold your horses, there, Hoss. All I got was the crème. I want some cock! I want some of what Sandy got!"

It was true. Dina had a cunt full of cum and not a drop of sweat equity. Her soaked cunt was largely the result of that triune blowjob. Dina hadn't cum.

James smiled. He knew that his rep at school would change henceforth. He also suspected that Delphia would hear of his sojourn with the College Blondes (minus Gail Gentric). Fuck it. What idiot was going to turn down the chance at these three?

James' bloodlust was upon him. There comes a time in every young man's life when he transitions from a boy yearning after a nut to a man yearning after a woman's nut. Having stood up to Sandy's cunt wobble, James felt emboldened. His cock was still hard. Dina's cunt was arguably the school's most sought after trim. Dina knew it. So did Paula and Sandy. That Dina had spread her legs to receive James' first nut told James that he had more work to put in. Paula's nuts were already adequately serviced. Sandy was completely bereft. Now it was time for a return visit with the to the Titty Queen.

Dina lay back on the couch. She opened her legs to him, expecting another missionary go. Her voluptuous tits lolled into her armpits. James could sense heat rising in waves from her open Cunt. Jism still leaked expansively from her opening.

James knelt between her legs. His cock pronged upward like a living thing dancing between them. Rather than attack her Cunt right off, James scooched up her torso to straddle her tits. He rested the tip of his cock against Dina's chin.

Dina could tell that James' cock smelled differently now than earlier. The phallus resonating before her nostrils scorched of three newly exotic scents, courtesy of the women in that room. These merged with the original scent of the mystery woman, Delphia. This mélange of diverse Cuntl odors combined with James' semen to weave a heady perfume more powerful than any manufactured fragrance. Dina opened her pouty lips to French kiss James' cock, laving his pud in her tongue.

James basked in Dina's introductory suckle. He crossed his arms to watch her ablutions at his cock tip, allowing his penile aroma to stoke her roaring sexual engine. After a minute or so, he pushed his cock deeper into her mouth so that his pud was fully engulfed. Her lips crept widely about his cylindrical thickness. A minute on James offered up another surge of pole. Soon Dina was gagging on cock. Using her tongue as a cushion, James drove his engorged phallus slowly and sensuously down Dina's throat, adding her slobber to its striking aroma.

Dina moaned with anticipation. She began to twiddle her cunt. Dina enjoyed sucking cock, but her cunt was its natural home. Dina's snapper sang a siren song in its desire for closure.

James heard Dina's snapper's call. He would tend to her southern split in due time. Right now he had her northern cunt fully engaged. Dina sucked James' cock with increasing animus. In many ways a woman's northern cunt is superior to her southern, especially insofar as James had been fucking southern cunt all afternoon. Often, the change-up is electrifying. James had yet to master the skill of alternating between northern and southern pussies in the same session without cumming.

James and Delphia Sneak a quickie in his bedroom.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

Next door, Delphia already harbored a boatload of semen in each of her most southern ports. She lounged in James' bed, laying her head against his stomach. His cock was in her face. Delphia sucked him casually, tenderly, in lieu of their earlier violent encounters. James seemed possessed in his eagerness to empty himself of seed. He hadn't been reticent about probing Delphia's fundament, indeed, had been eager to do so.

Now James' cock resonated under her nostrils, hard and veiny and straight. His balls ballooned from its base. James was circumcised; his bulbous cockhead was purple/brown, his shaft and nuts were coated in semen and a meringue of pasty white cunt froth, to Delphia a sumptuous delight. Delphia bobbed on his cock voraciously, leaving a trail of spittle along the shaft. James lay back with his hands locked behind his head. This was heaven. If she kept this up, soon she would be choking down another load of spew.

James was not willing to be outdone. His pride forced him to retaliate in kind. He wanted to reward Delphia with a scorching case of the shivers, even as he.

James, however, was still in competition mode. He rammed his cock up Delphia's cunt throughout the entirety of her orgasm, gripping her ass cheeks tightly in his palms, thrusting vigorously. Delphia's orgasm doubled under James' fervent assault. James was so focused on hammering' dat cunt that he missed the subtle tremble of a Cunt in musk. Delphia's pink Cuntl muscles caressed his phallus delicately in anticipation of eruption, teasing him, tickling him, suckling his manhood with feminine tremble. It was as if she had a slithery forked tongue down there, dancing expertly across the sensitive nerve endings in James' cock. His fervor fired past her finely tuned climactic fuck quake.

Finally, James' cock popped free. Frantically, he scrambled up behind her, lifting her hips upward that he might find a separate portal for his passion. Using his thumbs to press Delphia's ass cheeks open, James exposed her cream-filled sphincter. He wanted another go at it. Delphia smiled wearily.

"He's getting better and better at this!"

Delphia loved it. James' mattress squeaked extravagantly to the rhythm of their intercourse.

"What's that?" she whispered.

They both knew the answer. James' parents slept in their room just above his. They were fucking.

James' parents weren't so verbal. They were Jehovah's Witnesses. They fucked, but didn't make a big production of it. James heard their bed squeaking sans the moaning, cursing and exorbitant sexual demands. James knew that his parents' headboard would knock rhythmically for a time, faster and faster, until a final loud bump. After this there would be an eerie silence save for the sound of running water in the bathroom, muffled conversation, late night television and finally contented snoring.

"Do you think they heard us?" Delphia wondered.

"No." James whispered.

He knew that, if they had heard, they would be downstairs in a flash. There would be hell to pay. Delphia would be sent home. The rest of the night would be spent in prayer and recriminations.

James' phallus was still rock hard inside Delphia's ass. He wanted to cum in the worst way.

Delphia, however, was spooked by the realization that his parents were awake just upstairs, probably doing the same thing.

"Jamesy, I'd better go," she said.

"Wait! Wait!" he cried, as she pulled away from him.

James needed to finish. He was still several strokes away from completion.

"No, James! I don't want your mom to come down here and catch us. We can finish later!"

Fanny finds out.

In the morning James dragged himself from bed. He was exhausted, burned beyond recognition from the Delphia blowjob sessions, his phallus a ragged piece of sausage dangling between his legs. His face was ashen, his demeanor listless. Yet James was wildly exuberant. For the first time in his life a raging erection failed to waken him from his slumber. He'd been righteously siphoned.

Abby Kittridge, his mother, called him to breakfast and Bible study. James washed up, then dressed for the Sunday Kingdom Hall service. The morning's exuberance slowly dissipated before his pangs of Christian conscience. He was sure that, at some point, his newfound mania for poonan would be found out by church authorities. Whereas before the loss of his virginity James was an eager participant in the family's religious activities, he now dreaded attending meetings, convicted by the consciousness of sin.

There was little he could do about it now. Delphia's aromatic cunt called him daily with its siren's song. He was going to answer that call come hell or high water. Yesterday's blowjob sessions exposed him to new vistas of sensuality. What had she called it? Bukkake? The vision of his girlfriend's face covered in white, creamy jism aroused him even now. She was a constant source of thrill. James had the Sunday meeting scheduled in the morning and field service planned for the entire afternoon.

James had to admit that he'd rather be blown.

James had an older sister, Fanny, still living at home. He had a younger sister and a younger brother, Jill and James, too. Of these, James was closest to Fanny. She looked at him now as they sat for breakfast, sensing something amiss. James was giving a weird vibe. He'd been acting strangely lately. Fanny made up her mind to approach him about it.

The family finished breakfast together and headed off to Kingdom Hall. James was responsible for passing the microphone about as audience members recited pre-printed answers from the Watchtower magazine. There were no random doctrinal questions accepted from the random members of the congregation; only such questions as posed by the study coordinator were allowed. Such one-way conversations passed as Bible study.

James was not paying attention in any case. He gave a perfunctory answer to paragraph ten from the study article. This was the minimum expected from such an up and comer.

After the meeting James arranged with the elders (of which his father was one) to go out in field service. James did his bit to further the evangelical aims of the church. By the time they returned home it was almost five p.m. James headed straight to bed, foregoing dinner. Fanny took this as another sign. James always did have a good appetite.

Fanny waited until their parents dressed for bed before approaching him. Several hours later James was dead asleep.

"James. Jamesy! Wake up. We have to talk."

James rolled over. At first he thought it very late. He thought the hand rousting his shoulder was Delphia's. How she'd gotten in without him leaving the back door open didn't occur to him. In any case, James was ready to fuck. When he cracked his eyes open he found his older sister sitting alongside his bed. James was disappointed.

"Hmm? What's up, Nan? I was asleep here."

He rolled over. Fanny could see that he was massively erect. Not unusual for a young man, but such things weren't discussed in the Kittridge household. Fanny looked away discreetly. Only then did James notice his boner.

"Oh. Sorry," he said, stuffing his phallus down the line of his thigh.

"How do you live with those things?" Fanny laughed.

James looked do

Kittridge Compromised: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Mon, 28 Sep 2026 20:42:54 +0000

Scandal at Kingdom Hall.

In 8 parts, based on the works of Bardot1990. Listen to the ► Podcast at ExplicitNovels.

In response to the vision of his girlfriend Delphia's impending late night visit, James Kittridge's phallus ballooned into a steely arc. If he touched himself now he would bust a nut and, in so doing, waste the better part of their first embrace in his fist. James much preferred the luxuriant clasp of Delphia's thrusting Cunt and the exhilarating shriek of their youthful conjoinment. It had taken him a while to gain the necessary cock control to satisfy her cravings. James' religion forbade extramarital sex. Having finally bought in to the concept of fornication, however, James was an eager participant.

Next door, young Delphia bade her parents goodnight and crawled into bed. Dressed in a set of flannel pajamas, Delphia looked the part of the naive, virginal teenager off to dream dreams of sugarplums and Disney fairy princesses, though she was long past such childish fantasy. The young black girl had no intention of falling asleep. Delphia's intentions were far more prurient. She knew her parents would stay up watching TV before heading off to bed themselves. She wanted them to be confident in the security of their home and hearth. Delphia's brothers would drift off in their own time. By three a.m. their whole home would be wrapped in the embrace of Morpheus.

Like James, Delphia was an eighteen-year-old high school senior. She wore her soft, black hair parted down the middle into two thick braids. She tied these off into a larger French braid resting between her shoulder blades. Her breasts were ripe with the fullness of youth, bouncing jauntily beneath her button down pajama top. Her pajama bottoms snapped tightly about her supple waist to encumber her widening behind. One could not see the taut muscles underlying her belly, but these were obvious. Delphia moved with the grace and assurance of a jungle cat.

Now, as she lay back into bed, she struggled out of her pajama bottoms and, using a flashlight, took a Bic razor and some soap to the lush curls crisscrossing her nubile pubic mound. She needed to be freshly bald down there, believing it would fire James' attention. Carefully, she scraped her vulva clean, taking special note of her most sensitive areas. She pried her labia majora open to ensure that no hidden patches of ebony thatch escaped her purview. A small, limber woman, Delphia was fully capable of doubling over to inspect her work, indeed, she was even capable of giving her throbbing clit the odd lick. She employed that talent tonight. The scent of her freshly shaven cunt assailed her nostrils.

"He gonna lick me tonight," she observed with a note of finality. (James enjoyed fellatio but was so far unwilling to reciprocate.) "He's gonna lick it or I'm gonna know the reason why."

Taking this cue, Delphia tongued her clit diffidently until she reached the threshold of her deepest arousal. With the familiar electrical shock came the realization that she might be able to nut before heading next door. She took a look at the clock radio beside her bed. James would be expecting her in another two hours. Unlike he, Delphia could nut repeatedly without having to rest between sessions.

The young girl relaxed a bit. Doubled over like this, knees pressed against her ears, she couldn't really enjoy the orgasmic wave that had consumed her youth since the first silky black pubic hairs appeared on her mound a decade before. Delphia closed her eyes to re-imagine her most recent sexual experience. Using her middle finger, she twiddled her clitoris alive from its perch at the apex of her slit. She was already wet. Her clit blossomed upward like a small marble. She stroked it opulently between her index finger and middle fingers as it swelled. Her arousal grew. Delphia struggled to quell groans of ecstasy. When the moment came she inserted both fingers and drifted aloft with a silent crash and a sigh. Her legs straightened. Her hips churned. Her entire body racked with spasms. Bright lights flickered wildly in her dome. After several more lingering pelvic thrusts (each more viciously strident than the one prior) Delphia passed out. She slept. Only the glowing flashlight under her blanket bore testimony to Delphia's masturbatory fecundity.

Delphia and James had been neighbors since grade school. They'd been at odds for much of that time. He threw dirt-bombs at her; she teased him about the small size of his head and sometimes called him ‘Jane’. James also came from a family of Jehovah's Witnesses. He wouldn't stand for the Pledge of Allegiance in school. On Saturdays he could be found knocking doors with colorful pamphlets in hand and a pre-rehearsed Bible schpiel. Young Delphia was not above mocking him for these "aberrations" from the norm.

With the onset of puberty this dynamic began to change. The teasing became less personal, more friendly. Childhood enemies often make the best of friendships.

Their homes were cookie cutter versions of suburbia; split level, with an upstairs, a mid-point kitchen/dining room/living room section and a spacious family room downstairs, complete with a fireplace. Four bedrooms, three baths. The downstairs in both homes also contained a guest bedroom and a utility room for the washer and the dryer. James slept in the downstairs bedroom in his home, well away from the other members of his family.

The utility room in both homes had a backdoor and a set of stairs leading up to ground level. This portal was used by the teens to travel between homes. It was easy enough to open the doors from the inside and step out undetected. Delphia could leave her door unlatched and return in the same manner. Her problem would be mounting the steps back upstairs to her room. She could always claim she'd been in the kitchen.

Now fast asleep, Delphia dreamt of her first sexual encounter with James just a few weeks back. It had been James' first ever visit to a woman's southern split. Delphia, by way of contrast, had any number of such encounters under her belt.

In their case, they'd been playing "Whirlpool" in a neighbor's above ground, circular pool. The game entailed a group of kids moving in unison around the perimeter of the pool such that a current is created; a whirlpool. The current eventually wafts the whole group along, kind of like a Lazy River. James trailed Delphia in the group. Reaching back for him under the water, Delphia repeatedly and disingenuously gripped his crotch through his swimming trunks. None of the other kids noticed. James certainly did. He jerked away from Delphia's first few forays, embarrassed at her attentions, thinking that she was gripping his cock accidentally. She was not.

Finally the moment came when Delphia gripped his erect phallus in her palm and did not let go. James allowed himself to be surreptitiously dragged along the whirlpool route by his cock. His eyes crisscrossed. He drew breath in great bolts. As a Christian, for James even masturbation was a sin. The other teenagers giggled and laughed as the current swirled them about, not noticing Delphia's grip. James swept along in a fog of pubescent lust.

And when Delphia drew him closer and pointed his erect phallus into the split in her bikini bottoms, James was on the verge of catastrophe. His baggy shorts served to partially disguise his boner, though one could see his immense erection beneath the sparkling pool waters if one had seen fit to look for it.

She positioned him carefully behind her so as not to attract attention. No one would have suspected them to be so bold in such a public setting. But here they were, in a crowd of other chattering teens, mashing their pelvises together.

James pressed a full inch of his cockhead into Delphia's wettened crack before he came. She felt him surge, sway and soften. There'd been no skin-to-skin contact. James only succeeded in pressing fabric from their bathing suits into her slit, although he had felt her cunt lips widen before snapping tightly about the helm of his cock. This, more than anything, triggered his ejaculate. This, and the fact that he'd never been this close to heaven before.

For her part, Delphia was amazed at his girth. Having accidentally witnessed his dangling cock some months back as he changed shorts at a basketball game, Delphia's view of her long-time neighbor abruptly changed. No more of this "pseudo-sibling" stuff. She'd titillated and teased him since that time to just this end. Now he'd parted her labia and left his seed adrift in chlorinated pool water and the fabric of her bikini bottoms. She didn't intend to have the next step take so long. She'd glanced over her shoulder at him that day.

"I can give you the real thing, if you want," she whispered, adding this tempting offer to the sexual maelstrom swirling in his head.

That evening James attended Kingdom Hall with his family. They returned home and were asleep by 11 p.m. Three hours later James was standing outside Delphia's second story window, tossing pebbles to awaken her. She popped up immediately.

"Text me!" she mouthed silently, pointing to her phone.

Ten minutes later she'd scampered up the backstairs, barefoot, and rushed into his arms. He guided her to a dark spot in his backyard behind his garage. They kissed passionately before James snatched her about, yanked her pajama bottoms down and bent her over into the same position she'd been in the pool, except now her hind parts were exposed. Frantically, he'd shoved his cock past her crop of curly pubic hair and into her cunt proper. No bikini bottoms blocked his access to her goodies this time. James fumbled about, found and penetrated her sex opening with a phallus made of granite. Ten seconds later he'd spasmed, splurted and slumped; like a newbie. Delphia felt the crawly flood of his semen trickling down her thighs with a measure of gratitude.

It was about time.

James held Delphia in place as he'd emptied himself. His balls expanded and contracted, balloon-like, as he pumped jism into her Cunt. When he finally extricated himself, a huge dollop of semen plopped from her behind and splashed earthward, soiling her pajama bottoms. Delphia was horrified. Her mother was sure to notice. Only now did she seem to realize her peril. Delphia gathered herself and ran home, pausing in the downstairs bathroom to scrub her pajama bottoms with hot water. She also took a hot washcloth to her Cunt. Rawdog sex has a noticeable odor.

Delphia packaged her pajama bottoms away, afraid to hang them up or put them in the dryer. She planned to wash her things after her parents left for work in the morning.

The young girl was not unhappy. Even though her intended had left her bereft, they'd finally done the deed ten years in the making. James would gain stamina with time, she knew. Ten seconds? She chuckled to herself. She hadn't believed he could go that long on the first try.

As she was replaying the event in her mind, her cell phone lit up. It was him.

"Come back down!" he texted.

She popped her head into her window. He was still down there, in the cut, a shadow among the shadows, his face lit up by the phosphorescent glow of his smart phone.

Thrilled at his boldness, Delphia slipped from her bed and ran to him again, sneaking out through the utility room doorway. This time she wore no panties. She found him with a huge, unrequited boner, one of the perks of the newly initiated. Brashly, she'd lifted her leg and reached down to guide his cock into her cunt, fucking face to face as they kissed, dragging her hirsute vulva up and down the length of his shaft with the fury of her passion. When she felt him begin to tremble and quake she was nowhere near completion. She hopped off his cock, knelt, and took his phallus into her throat. It was his first blowjob.

It was time to move him along into newer things.

James was, again, transfixed. He'd never seen a porn movie, indeed, had no clue about the joys of fellatio save for the locker room rumors he'd overheard. As might be expected, it was not a subject fit for a Christian home. James knew from this first experience that this new thing was sure to free him from worry over the prospect of preg-Fanny.

James stood before the kneeling girl, emptying his batch into her gullet. This time there was no spillage. He'd held the top of her head and her underjaw in place as he pumped a load of jizz down her throat. Delphia who, unlike James, had seen a number porn movies in her time, slurped up every drop of his semen. James staggered backward, arms flailing, almost blinded by the force of his delivery. Delphia was pleased. She suckled his cock tenderly until it softened in her mouth. When he finished erupting, she eased back from his cock. She tucked it away for him. He slumped.

Now standing over him, she pushed him to his knees and offered her protruding clitoris to his tongue as if it were a cock. Shocked, James scrambled backwards. Delphia seemed to anticipate this. Maybe cunnilingus was a bit too much for the first night.

She stood him aloft and kissed him deeply. Then she turned, scampered home and crawled into bed. She felt sticky and hot "down there," but was nowhere near sated. Instead, she reached southward and began to finger herself opulently. She needed a top off.

She'd been masturbating languidly for fifteen minutes when her cell phone lit up. Delphia knew it was James before picking up the phone. Ten minutes later her cunt was again filled with cock. This time James lasted a full two minutes before succumbing to yet another crippling climax. He'd wanted to enjoy Delphia's fellatio once more before the night waned, but his cock had other ideas. Enveloped in the rapturous joy of her cunt, James couldn't bring himself to pull out. He erupted just as Delphia was entering the tremble phase of her womanly orgasm. She had not snapped tourniquet tight about his thickness, but she was getting there.

Delphia scampered home again, through the wet grass, dripping with semen. This time she finished her top off using her middle and ring fingers, imagining these to be James' phallus. Afterward, the odor of their sex lingered on her fingertips. Delphia smiled lazily.

"That was good!" she mused.

All in all, that first encounter had been the most sensational sexual experience of both their young lives. Delphia harkened back to that evening now even as she prepared for another such tryst. They'd graduated from fucking in the wet backyard grass to cowgirl in the Kittridge family minivan to late night meetups in James' downstairs bedroom. James' parents slept directly upstairs.

Things were moving along nicely.

James, however, existed in a torment of indecision. He was a fornicator! Save for the term 'apostate', there is no more pejorative term in the Jehovah's Witness lexicon. If anyone in his church caught wind of his extra-curricular sexual activities, he would be ex-communicated so fast! Even his family

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 4

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Fri, 25 Sep 2026 23:05:00 +0000

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 4

Finale of Hollywood Nights & Unchained Melody.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The swanky bungalow was dark and quiet. The door burst open, and Jackson and Lisa entered in a heated exchange. Lisa pulled away and bent herself over the side of the couch, reached up her dress, and pulled her lingerie down. Flipping up her dress, she revealed the most perfect ass Jackson had ever seen, which by default made it one of the best asses ever seen by anyone anywhere ever.

Jackson dropped to his knees and separated her muscular ass cheeks to reveal a perfect rosebud clenched tight yet pulsating in anticipation of his oral attack. Placing his face between her cheeks, he inhaled her rich Earth scent. Her fragrance was reminiscent of cherry pipe tobacco, rich and full-bodied, and urged him inward to taste.

Sharpening his tongue, he poked at her underhole, only to be met with a rejecting, tightly sealed doorway. Flattening his tongue, he applied gentle wet pressure around the clenched ass hole, massaging the muscles. Like Aladdin before the Cave of Wonders, the entrance opened, allowing him passage.

Lisa let out a deep sigh and released a small shot of wetness from her wanting cunt. As he worked her ass hole, her vaginal moisture back flowed, adding sweetness to the earthen taste.

Lisa opened her stride and bent further forward, allowing Jackson better access. Pulling back to admire her tight ring, he focused on her pronounced twaut lips further south. Something was protruding outward.

Jackson turned Lisa around to face him. Her dress fell, covering her pubis.

"I want to see your clit,"

"I warned you it's big," Lisa said as she slowly raised her dress again like a curtain rising on a stage play.

Jackson's eyes were transfixed as she revealed her muscular thighs, then the bottom of her slit, followed by her smooth and swollen cunt lips, and then at the top, a sizeable protruding clitoris surrounded by her thick deep red labia. The way it protruded reminded him of an outie belly button or a prominent nipple.

While most clitorises tend to retreat under their hood when aroused, Lisa's was too large to hide. Its tender pink skin glistened as her juices dribbled to the end of the nub, sliding off in a viscous drip.

"That's...amazing," Jackson said, transfixed by Lisa's anomalous sexual protrusion.

Lisa let her fingers slide across her moist nub, then took the wet fingers and painted the moisture on the pressure points of her neck.

"I've grown to love it," she whispered.

Jackson's face plunged into Lisa's bare skin valley, intent on running his tongue over her pronounced pubic pleasure point. As his tongue met her flesh, she writhed with pleasure. Her twaut reacted with another flush of fluids. They were hot with a savory taste and a hint of sweetness.

"I warned you about the soak," Lisa said, pushing him back to see his face glistening from her flow.

Standing up, Lisa took Jackson by the hand and headed toward the bedroom.

"Come on, fuck me properly, on a bed."

As she walked ahead of him, she slipped her arms out of the top of the dress, revealing her muscular back with broad swimmer shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.

A few more steps and the white dress slipped down, revealing her pronounced ass and leaving on only her thigh-high white boots. Pausing in the doorway, she turned to face Jackson, putting her hands against the door jambs she pressed. Her arm muscles tightened, and her abs rippled. Her clit continued to peek out, tempting Jackson forward.

Jackson approached her, placing his mouth on hers and sharing a deep kiss.

"What if we're not as good as we dreamed?" she asked.

"Let's find out," he replied, then swooped Lisa up in his powerful arms and carried her to the bed like a groom across the threshold. Laying her down, she slid back and opened her legs wide. Her moist cunt gently opened, breaking the suction created by her wetness and revealing her apex entrance like a cathedral door opening.

Jackson reached to take off her boots.

"No," she resisted, "I want to get fucked with my $1,000 boots on."

"Okay, cowboy," Jackson said with a smile as he undid his pants.

He wore no underwear in anticipation of this moment, and his not-shy phallus fell forward when freed and then quickly bounced into a thick erection.

Lisa lay on her back, propped up on the many pillows to get a pleasant view of the handsome man about to enter her.

The anticipation was murder. Initial penetration can be everything in a first connection. Would it be a violent thrust? An awkward push? An energetic invasion?

As Jackson climbed over her, his mushroom tip pressed against her slit and slowly slid inside. Her engorged clit, rode along the top of his shaft like the needle of a turntable. Each vein and rise in his cockskin was read by her clit like a needle on a vinyl record and translated into electric sensations which ran up and down her nervous system. It was none of those, but better.

Finally, he was inside her. The two rested together, completely interlocked, as Lisa felt her cunt stretched out nicely. The tightness sent a wave of pleasure that made her sphincter pucker. Her intense inner heat penetrated the skin of Jackson's phallus, warming it, expanding the blood cells that inflated it causing his cock to grow even more.

Jackson gently pulled back, then pushed forward, getting a little deeper. Lisa moaned as if she had not expected her body's reaction to the thrust.

Pulling his face to hers, the two explored each other's mouths as Jackson's thrusting tempo increased. Despite the wild nature of their collective dreams, this simple missionary exchange allowed each to see into the other's eyes.

As pleasant as the intercourse was, both knew this session would get far more intense, so they savored the exchange physically and emotionally.

As his thrust cadence increased, so too did their body heat. A sheen of perspiration developed on their skin. The sounds of their love became wet as her nethers washed his cock with its flow.

Jackson gently pulled out and sat up on his knees, looking down at Lisa lovingly. He gently stroked his cock without words. Lisa sat up so her face was inches from his cock, then took him in her mouth. She tasted herself; it was a taste she loved, but only when mixed with the scent and flavor of a man.

Jackson touched her head as she took him deep into her mouth. As one hand massaged his cock the other cupped his balls, and it was then she realized he was perfectly manscaped. Not a bit of hair.

Lisa crawled from underneath Jackson, pushed him down on the bed, and returned her mouth to his phallus while hunkering between his legs. She felt his pucker's smoothness and marveled at the expert quality of his epilation. With her free hand, she slipped three fingers into her cunt, saturated them with her glycerin-thick juices then brought them up to Jackson's clenched ring.

Jackson felt Lisa pushing on his back door and was anxious and curious about her intentions. Relaxing his torso, his sphincter opened slightly, and Lisa skillfully inserted her finger into the smoothness of his dark tunnel. His body reacted with a spasm, and his cock thickened. As Lisa inserted a second finger stretching him open.

"What he began.

Jackson did not finish his sentence. Both fingers found the sponginess of his prostate and began massaging the lubricated nerve bundle.

Jackson felt helpless. He was always proud of his ability to hold off cumming, but this sensation was overpowering, and he had only two choices. The first would be to push her fingers out of his ass, and the second would allow her to milk him to culmination.

He chose the latter, and the tingling in his feet shot upward into his balls. The power of his ejaculation was so forceful that he feared Lisa would gag on his load, but she held firm, swallowing each blast.

When at last, he was spent, she slid her fingers from his ass and released his cock from her mouth. It was still beyond half-mast as she looked up at him, waiting on a reaction.

As his breath returned, Jackson stared at her with a content smile.

"That was so

"-Good?" she inquired.

"I was going to say unexpected, but amazing would be a better adjective."

Jackson pulled Lisa close.

He leaned in to kiss her, and she paused to wipe some cum from her face, then their mouths met. He tasted his spent offerings for the first time as their tongue swirled. It was not objectionable; it was alluring, and he felt a continued stirring in his loins.

"I'll let you refract, but I need you to do me a favor," she said.

"Anything," Jackson replied.

With that, Lisa crawled up Jackson's body until her pussy was over Jackson's face. Squatting and hovering as only a woman can do, her long labia remained just out of range of his mouth. Putting an arm on the headboard, she leaned forward, and her pronounced clit was unable to retreat. She lowered her pussy to his face so that only her clit touched his tongue. Jackson kissed and fondled the tender bud as Lisa moaned and breathed hard.

After a particularly long moan, Jackson raised his hands to grab her ass and pull her into his face.

"Oh, Oh, yes," she moaned.

Remembering the pleasure of her fingers in his netherworld, Jackson dipped his forefinger in her wetness and then pressed it against her ass. At the same time, he sucked and circled her clit that hung down like a nipple, nursing it while he pushed aggressively against her tight knot.

So relaxed from the sensations her cunt sent across her body, her sphincter relented, and Jackson's finger found its way inside. With no prostate to massage, he simply slid his digit up and down her butter-smooth tightness.

Lisa clenched up as the dual sensations met in her core. Her orgasm was imminent. Jackson's finger in her ass moved slowly with gentle respect. His mouth had latched onto her now purple-sweet mound and was suckling it like a baby on a breast.

She knew her orgasm would be accompanied by a rush of glandular flow as her inner wave rose from the depths, washed across her body, and then out of her cunt in a gush of pleasure and wetness.

Jackson rode the wave as Lisa's body trembled. Unable to support herself in the awkward position and not wanting to plant her ass directly on Jackson's face, she rolled to the side, still shaking uncontrollably. In her post-orgasmic resolution state, her clit finally retreated, allowing her endorphins to warm her body.

Jackson wrapped his arms around her, pressing his warm flesh to hers. Awake since 4:00 in the morning, she fought sleep, knowing that she wanted to finish the night with Jackson inside her, but slumber came to the two of them, and they lay motionless together until the morning sun peered in through a distant window.

Lisa slept well into the morning, finally waking to see the bed empty. She looked at her feet and saw her boots were removed in the night. Putting on a robe, she wandered into the main room of the bungalow to see Jackson moving breakfast from a cart to the table.

He gestured for her to sit and followed suit. She began drinking coffee and then taking a bite of her breakfast.

"Wasn't sure what you eat in the morning, so I ordered everything," he said.

"Good, because I'll eat it all," she replied.

"For starters, I want to say I had a great time last night Jackson began."

Lisa looked up from her coffee, wondering where this was going. Was he giving her the exit speech?

"The thing is," he started, "I didn't think things through and

"I'll go, but the boots are coming with me," she replied.

"What? No? You think I'm... Let me finish. I'm saying that going out with me comes with a price. That price is your privacy."

"I don't follow."

Jackson turned his iPad around to show a trending topic on Twitter: #jacksonsgirl followed by photos of the two exiting the restaurant and entering the hotel.

"Right now, people at E-News and TMZ are trying to figure out who you are. The current trending name for you is #fitchick."

Lisa took the iPad and scanned the comments. She laughed at some and cringed at others.

"Oh, my God, some of these people are so mean. This girl called me Jackson's Hole. Why would she

"This is the price. I understand if you don't want to pay it," he said sincerely."

"Looks like I am paying it, like it or not."

"So, about last night..." he began.

Okay, she thought, now he's going to give the exit speech.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to finish what we started."

"I'm not complaining because if that was just the appetizer, then I have to wonder what the main course is like," she said.

"I have to be on the set in a few hours," Jackson replied.

"And I have to be at the register of your grocery store in a few hours," she said with a laugh.

"Don't tell the others you'll be banging the boss later tonight. I don't want HR calling me tomorrow."

"Will I? Okay then, I better get home and ready for a long night of sexual harassment."

"I'm borrowing Ewen McGreggor's motorcycle to ride us back to L.A. You up for some dirt in your teeth?"

Two hours later, the helmeted duo cruised down the 10 Freeway on a BMW R1150 motorcycle en route to their everyday lives; his as a movie star and hers as the grocery checker whose face would be on the cover of every magazine in the checkout line.

Hours later, Jackson sat on a sound stage at the studio back lot in his, rehearsing a tunnel breach with Curt Jeske.

Gretchen approached with several Hermes bags.

"You just got a delivery from the Riviera in Palm Springs. A bunch of Hermes dresses. Are you thinking of a fresh look for the fall?"

"They are for Cinderella," he said with a smile.

"Get the fuck out. That woman you were photographed with last night?"

"Yeah." He said with a smile.

"Who is she? What show is she on? I want to IMDB her."

"She's not an actress?" Jackson added in.

"Does she work with the studio?"

"She's not in the business. She's a checker at the grocery store I own."

"You had obsessive dreams about a grocery store worker?"

"Yes, I did," he replied.

"So, is she nice? Wait, you own a grocery store?"

"She is, and I do, and thank you for asking. Most people would want to know if she's good in bed or after my fame."

Gretchen noticed Hailee walking across the set in their direction.

"I'm glad you found Cinderella, but don't forget, there's an evil stepmother for every Cinderella out there. By the way, your agent is here."

Hailee barged into the area, "That's right, you little rascal," she said, locking eyes with Gretchen. "Be sure to give me your Dad's address so I can fuck him, marry your mom and kill your family dynamic...and then become your evil stepmother. Now run along. Future step-mommy needs to talk to Prince Charming."

"So gross, so inappropriate," Gretchen muttered as she left.

Jeske greedily eyed the sexy agent.

"Hey, sailor, thank you for your service, but this ship does not take on any seamen. So, fuck off."

"Sorry Jeske, she's not herself in daylight.

"Not an issue, boss. I'll be right over here if you need me to kill her," he offered in jest.

"Why do I ever leave my office and come to the Valley? Enough about that, so I came here because I got a call today from a gentleman named Gunner Becker. He's a fashion photographer. Your mystery girl did some photo shoots for this guy 20 years ago."

"Nudes?" Jackson asked.

"Nudes? Everyone has nudes these days. Nudes are nothing. You want a nude of Dame Judy Dench? I can get you one. No, these were more than nudes. Let's just say there is a Hub for this material, and Gunner claims he will sell them but thought you might like them for your private collection."

"This fucker is blackmailing a grocery store checker?" Josh said in disbelief.

"Well, no. He's blackmailing you. Is she a grocery store checker? Really? He's betting you don't want anyone seeing your girlfriend licking some tall blond chick's asshole. Although, I do."

"How do we know it's her? I mean, this was 20 years ago," Jackson asked.

"Well, let's see. He sent me the ass-licking photo. She looks like your girl, but the photo is old. Hair is different. She looks fit, awesome tits. They real? Oh, she has a really big clit. Damn, I would like to play with that. Just slap it around for a while like a misbehaving soldier. Tell me, was that thing fun? Just lie to me if it wasn't."

"Jesus, as if Hollywood didn't beat this girl up enough. What are our choices?" Jackson asked.

"We can pay him, get the copyright. Don't pay him, he sells the pics to the top bidder, and she's internet famous for a week. Or you could ghost her. Don't call her back. He'll publish the photos, but we deny you knew her. Just some big clit girl at a restaurant."

"How much does he want?"

"A million, and frankly, if we agree, expect it to be two million, maybe more."

Hailee turned to leave.

"You need to move on this fast, Jackson," she said, "things are happening at the studio level, and this German cocksucker will fuck things up on the Superman side. Talk to your grocery gal and tell her to clean up her aisle."

As Hailee left, Jeske sat down next to Jackson.

"You catch all that?" Jackson asked.

"This guy is a terrorist," Jeske replied.

"I know I've got you and the boys busy with Donnett," Jackson started, "but this girl is special, and this guy, he's a piece of

Jeske interrupted him before he could go on. "What have I told you about plausible deniability?"

Lisa entered

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 3

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Thu, 24 Sep 2026 23:04:00 +0000

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 3

Hollywood Nights.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The two-story compound looked ominous as Jackson Tibbetts entered wearing night camo and strapped for action. Behind him, his Navy Seal team provided cover as they penetrated the inner sanctum of the warlord, Hamza Fatir.

Entering an ornate room, he saw a colossal goon of a man on a couch with a delicate beauty next to him.

The scene was reminiscent of Jabba the Hut holding Princess Leia on a chain. In this case, the terrorist had a gun to the woman's head.

Jackson approached with the cool of a man who had done things you don't share in a confessional because there is no Heaven for his kind.

Bringing out his handgun, he aimed at Hamza Fatir.

"You kill a man; you make sure he's dead," Jackson growled and pulled the trigger.

The gun went click. Fatir's head went back and...

"Cut! Wonderful job. That was money, Jackson. We got it," the director shouted.

As the crew began to prep for another scene, Jackson Tibbetts, the movie's star, walked toward his trailer along with Curt Jeske, an ex-Navy seal and the tech advisor for the film.

"You need to carry the weapon a little higher, closer to your body, when you sense a threat," Jeske coached him.

"Hey, I never thanked you about that stalker guy. He hasn't parked outside my house in weeks," Jackson said quietly.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Jeske replied.

"Right, plausible deniability," Jackson said. "Please tell me you didn't kill him."

"He's fine; his car is not. He woke up in Pensacola, where he had some warrants, so he'll be gone for two to five years," Jeske replied. And that's all I'll say about that because

"Plausible deniability, right. Got it," Jackson said high, fiving his friend and Hollywood fixer.

Ainsley, the set armorer, came to take Jackson's weapons.

"One of these days, I'm going to get off this set with one of these guns," he said with his signature Hollywood flirtatious smile.

"And the studio will send me to hunt you down and disarm you, willing or unwilling," she replied. "I'm hoping you try to resist so I can strip-search you."

"Now, why can you say that to me? But if I say it to you, I get canceled?" he replied.

"I don't know, why don't you try it? I won't file a complaint," she said with a wink.

Jackson couldn't help but watch the attractive young woman head off with his prop guns. Her flirtation skills were off the charts.

His agent Hailee Markus caught up as he walked toward his trailer. In her mid-forties, she was a rock-solid knockout who tended to scare everyone. She was always sure to open one or two of her blouse buttons when meeting with Jackson. He was one of Hollywood's hottest commodities, and she wanted to ensure he never got tired of looking at her Beverly Hills.

"Josh Donnett has asked to meet before lunch. I think he's looking to offer you something big," she said.

"Donnett's a tool," Jackson replied, "total scumbag. If he's not coming to us with Superman, I don't want to talk to him."

"Treat the scumbag like a person, and close big," she said with a slightly reprimanding tone. "That's in an hour. Maybe take a shower or something. Put on a clean shirt.

An hour later, Josh stepped out of his trailer, cleaned up, and wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

Parked directly in his path was a cherry-red McLaren sports car. Standing next to the audacious road beast was Josh Donnett, a handsome movie studio executive who exuded both charm and slime at the same time.

Josh and Hailee were in deep discussion. Jackson walked over to Josh's associate, a striking, attractive young African American woman with an eye-catching head of kinky and curly hair that reminded Jackson of an afro. This was Cecelina Lyon, a junior executive for the movie studio but more recently known as the Major League Distraction, for a recent situation where a Dodgers pitcher had asked for her to be removed from the seats behind home plate because he found her beauty distracting.

"So, you like working with Donnett?" Jackson asked.

"He's not so bad," Cecelina replied.

"Yeah, he is, and you know it. Here's the deal. Do you want to be known as something more than a meme? You get me the Superman franchise. We make box office history together, and you'll be running the studio in the next five years.

"I have no power," she said in surrender.

"Take the power," Jackson replied.

"How?"

"You'll know in the moment. Take it when it happens. Anything I can ever do to help, you ask." Jackson whispered.

"Hey, no back alley deals," Josh said in jest as he approached Jackson and Cecelina.

"Just trying to convince her I would make a better boyfriend than a baseball player, but she's not having it," Jackson replied.

"Jackie, I've got to get right to the point," Josh interrupted, "we want you to star in the Doom Legend project. Big franchise, the studio is ready to commit a huge budget."

"We want Superman," Hailee shot back.

"We've got our Superman. It's not on the table," Josh replied.

"Paramount is offering him a franchise film," Hailee countered.

"So are we," Josh said.

"But not Superman," she shot back.

"We've got to get the Anna Kendrick set. Look, let's backburner Superman for a few days. Let's see the tracking numbers for your new movie, and we can reconvene in a week. Good?"

The conversations wrapped as Jackson headed into his trailer and Cecelina left with Josh in his McLaren.

Gretchen, Jackson's assistant, was young with next-door girl cuteness. She was a bundle of energy and hopelessly in love with her boss.

"Hey, Jack, I ordered those new skis you wanted. The guy from the Jeep shop said he'd get the CJ ready for next week. I made the plane reservation for your mom. First class. Window"

"Thanks, Gretch. How did I ever live without you?"

"Your car is here. Eight AM call time tomorrow. The car will be there at 7:15.

Jackson gave Gretchen his trademark smile and then jumped into the town car.

The town car wound through the Canyons between the San Fernando Valley and Hollywood. Jackson stared outside, passing two billboards for his next movie; Escape From Reality.

The limo then entered Laurel Canyon, winding through the hills until it came to the Canyon Country store. An old deli-bodega with a clientele of old-timer hippies who remember the days of Jim Morrison and Frank Zappa buying rolling papers at the counter.

Jackson got out, thanked the driver, and drove off. This was his daily routine. A stop at the market, get a power smoothie and some fresh fruit, then walk the last mile home up the trails in the hills to enjoy his panoramic view of Los Angeles.

He treasured each evening because the people in the market didn't care who he was, and the lack of cell phone reception in the woods made his walk home quiet and peaceful.

The juice bar barista was Margie, an attractive twenty-something aspiring actress who knew not to ogle over the celebrities that shopped there.

"Almost ready, Jackson. You want some extra protein powder?"

"Nope, some blueberries if they are fresh. Hey, how was the audition?"

"Horrible. I could tell they hated me when I walked in the door. I heard the guy say my eyes were too far apart. I wanted to cry," she said.

"And yet, you'll go back again and again because that's how it's done. Your eyes are perfect. They're like little pools of azure," he said with a smile.

Margie smiled as she handed Jackson his drink. Here he was one of the most famous people in Hollywood, and he always remembered to ask about her trials and tribulations and never left without a small but personal compliment.

Heading to the register, Jackson picked up a few pieces of fruit and stopped at the check stand to see a new checker.

"You're new," Jackson replied. "Where's Bethany?"

"Left for Chicago," the checker replied with zero passion for the missing girl.

"She gave up," Jackson said with a lilt of sadness. "She had a great personality," he added.

"From what I heard, she was a lousy actress," the checker replied.

"I'm Jackson, and you are?"

The checker looked at Jackson, wondering why exchanging names was necessary.

"Ms. Henderson," she replied coldly. Jackson got the hint and handed her his credit card. She examined it for a beat.

"You got any ID?" she asked.

"Really? I need ID? Look, I don't like saying this, but do you know who I am?" he said, slightly amazed and amused.

"If I knew who you were, I would not have to ask for your ID."

A woman standing behind Jackson leaned in. "He's famous. He's Jackson Tibbets."

Ms. Henderson looked at the woman unamused. "I don't know you either, so why would I take your word for it?"

The woman picked up a copy of US Weekly with a picture of Jackson and Natalie Portman on the cover and pointed to it.

Jackson reached into his pocket, pulled out his driver's license, and handed it to Ms. Henderson.

"It's expired," she replied.

"Getting to the DMV is a little hard for me. But expired or not, it proves I'm me," he said.

She offered a weak smile and continued ringing up Jackson's order.

"You should report her to the manager," the woman behind him said.

"My job is to ask for ID if I don't know the customer, so I did. Why on Earth, Karen, do you feel the need to get me fired for doing my job?" Ms. Henderson said, making dagger eyes at the busybody.

Jackson smiled, took his smoothie, and left. The complaining Karen put her basket down and walked out rather than deal with her.

Ms. Henderson noticed Jackson had left his bag of fruit and took it outside. He was across the parking lot and heading for a trail to take him up the hills to his home high above the canyon.

"You forgot your fruit," she shouted.

Jackson walked back and got a better look at the woman. She was a little older than him, probably in her late 30s, maybe even her early 40s. She had a beautiful face, dark-tanned skin, and brown hair with blond streaks that betrayed her time outdoors. She wore a frumpy Canyon Market polo shirt over her tight Patagonia top. A typical guy would glance down at her snug yoga pants to notice her rock-hard body. Jackson was world-famous but still a typical guy. He glanced.

"You really don't know who I am?" he asked as he took the bag.

"You're Jackson Tibbetts. You're about as famous as they get. Of course, I know who you are. Do you think I live under a rock? Are you worried someone might not know who you are?

"More worried they might not care who I am. When people stop caring, my career is done," Jackson replied.

"Well, if we must be honest, I'm more of a Brad Pitt fan," she said, heading back to the store.

"I did a movie with Brad," Jackson shot back.

"I know. I diddle myself to the scene of him in the shower from that film," she replied.

"I was pretty much naked in the swimming pool in that movie."

"Yeah, but it's after the Brad Pitt shower scene, so by then, I've had my big O and fallen asleep."

Jackson smiled at her chutzpah. This woman was going to add a challenge to his end-of-day routine.

Jackson's Hollywood Hills home was the quintessential mid-century modern LA masterpiece with clean lines and geometric shapes. The home featured a large window wall that led to a massive flat deck that overlooked the entire city. Inside, the open floor plan created a sense of flow and spaciousness.

With an early call in the morning, he decided to turn in. Taking off all his clothes, he walked into his large bedroom, looking at his reflection in the mirrored wall. He was lean muscle thanks to a two-hour-a-day fitness regime. Muscular like a swimmer, he knew his good looks were crucial to his fame.

Sleep did not come easy for Jackson, and he wasn't sure why. Tomorrow's shoot was simple, with no lines to memorize.

In a fog, he realized he was finally asleep and now in a dream state. He was nude and on his bed. The moon lit the room, and he could see a woman at the end of the bed. She slowly crept toward him in a cat crawl. As she did, his phallus became tumescent in anticipation. When her head was over his crotch, she leaned down and dragged her tongue along his cock, and continued toward his torso.

Jackson struggled to see her face, even brushing her hair away as she prowled toward him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not see her features. Soon the ethereal vixen was above his cock. Lifting herself, she spread her plump red pussy lips open and slid down his shaft in a wet rush. She was now riding him cowgirl, and still, he could not see her face.

"I love your cock," she said in a whispery voice. Her statement triggered something within, and Jackson's cock erupted with a nocturnal emission.

Jackson was woken by a euphoric rush of pleasure only to look down at his erection as it ejaculated ivory-white streams on his chest. Looking around, he remained confused and then realized he was alone. The girl was a figment of his imagination, but the orgasm was real. He fell back panting and tired and didn't awaken until morning.

Jackson exited his trailer wearing a Navy officer's uniform. Gretchen joined him as he walked to the set.

Still another two hours until they need you. Want me to go pitch a fit for you?" she offered.

"No, that's not needed," he replied.

In mid-sentence, Jackson's dream came back to him in full detail. The mysterious woman, her muscular contractions taking him to a massive orgasm.

Jackson stopped and looked at Gretchen. She was adorable, with an energetic body. Her hair was shorter than the dream girl, but could it be her?

"What? What's the matter? Do I have food on my face?" she asked off the awkward pause. "What?"

"I was remembering something," he said.

"Something?"

"A dream I had," he said, lost in thought.

"About me?" she replied with a hopeful smile.

"I don't think so. I thought maybe, but no."

"Any details you want to share?"

"Let's just say there was a girl, and it was intense."

"But you don't remember who she was."

"I couldn't see her face."

"So, it could have been me?"

"Her boobs were bigger."

"Hurtful, but ok," Gretchen replied.

"I'm sorry. It was so real, and I need to figure out who she was."

"Well, try not to ogle and stare as much at the next girl. It's creepy, even from you."

Ainsley, the set weapons armorer, stopped them.

We are using the MK18 today, so I'll need you for about ten minutes of training later to familiarize you

She noticed Jackson staring at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. I was looking at

"Were you looking at my ass?"

"I was not, well, looking at you," Jackson stammered.

"Relax, I'm kidding, but seriously, you should be looking at my ass more often. It's bangin'. No better ass around this town.

With a wink, she left.

Jackson walked on but kept looking back at Ainsley, mentally undressing her to see if she was the woman from his dream.

Are you going to try the glass slipper on every woman you see? Because we've got a full schedule.

Ahead he noticed Cecelina Lyon sitting on a bench alone.

"She looks upset, Jackson. Don't go hitting on her," Gretchen said. "We need her on your side."

I'm just going to sit with her for a moment. I'll catch up to you, Jackson said.

Gretchen walked to the make-up trailer nearby and took a seat to roll some calls. She watched Jackson and Cecelina speak. She couldn't hear the conversation, but the usually bubbly woman was stone cold serious, and borderline on tears.

Jackson got up to leave, then sat again. His look was angry. Gretchen tried to think what Cecelina could possibly say to upset him.

Finally, he left and approached Gretchen as they walked on.

"It's going to be another three-hour wait, she informed him.

"I'll go back to my trailer and read lines. Call Jeske and tell him to meet me this afternoon," Jackson said.

"You don't talk to studio executives without me around," a voice bellowed. It was Jackson's agent Hailee.

"She's having a difficult day. I was being friendly," he replied. "You're my agent, not my mother."

"Please, if your mom had my rock-hard ass, this set of premium tits, and the ability to rip the balls of anyone who tries to fuck over my client, you can have her negotiate your next deal."

Upon hearing Hailee mention her tits, Jackson paused and looked her up and down.

"Really? You're going to check me out right now?"

"Just seeing if your tits are bigger than mom's," Jackson replied.

"Just so we're clear, these tits are for closing deals and vulnerable young starlets. You and me, we don't fuck."

Jackson lagged as Hailee marched ahead, wondering if she might be the woman in his dream and hoping she was not.

Gretchen leaned into him conspiratorially. "Please tell me you were not dreaming about her. She's a psycho."

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 2

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 23:02:00 +0000

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 2

These Boots Are Made For Walkin.'

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

A patron at the bar at Basilicata, the popular Santa Monica restaurant, asked the attractive bartender to put the Dodgers baseball game on the TV sets over the bar. She clicked on the game, which was in the final inning.

"Base hit that sends Dominguez to first. The Padres have the tying run on base, and with two outs to go, that will be it for Jakes on the mound as they are bringing in Tommy Whelan from the bullpen," said the play-by-play announcer.

"Nice choice to close with Whelan. The guy throws smoke, can hit the high 90s in velocity, but watch him on the edges," the commentator added.

As Whalen warmed up on the mound throwing a few practice pitches, the camera wandered the stands, focusing on the expensive seats behind home plate. Being Los Angeles, there were always one or two celebrities in attendance, but the camera wandered to a young woman in a tight white Dodger tank top.

The picture lingered on this gorgeous ebony woman with skin of latte brown. She had a huge perfect smile and a large wild mane of auburn kinks and curls, creating a modern approach to the classic afro. She resembled a young Chaka Khan with a smile just as wide. The camera loved her as much as she loved the Dodgers.

"Ralzona steps up to the plate. He's hitting 232 this year. This is his first time facing Whalen," the play-by-play man said.

Tommy Whelan looked at his catcher and went into a pre-windup stance. The eye-catching young woman stood in the stands to let someone scooch past her. Tommy noticed her just as he launched his first pitch.

"Ball one, that one was nowhere near the plate. Not sure what Whalen was trying to throw, but it got away from him," the play-by-play man said.

"Seemed distracted," the Commentator added.

Whalen brushed off the lousy pitch getting ready for his next throw.

"Whelan looking a little unsettled. Maybe something in his eye. Wind up, pitch, ball two. Not even close. Great hands by the catcher, Rodriguez. Ralzona is batting .166 against lefties, so pitching right to him is the best strategy. No value in painting the corners here. Just throw strikes," the commentator added.

The next pitch was just as bad as the other two.

"Three balls on three pitches, that's the tying run at the plate, so a walk here with only one out will give the Angels; Wait! Whalen has called time out. He's signaling for the manager to come out to the mound. Maybe it's something with his glove," the commentator said.

The manager trotted out to the mound along with the catcher. They conferred for a few seconds before the manager returned to the dugout.

In the stands, an usher in a blue jacket approached the distractingly attractive woman in the seats behind home plate, asking her to come with him.

"Now I'm not sure what's going on, but Whelan has asked for a fan to be removed from their seat," the commentator said.

"I didn't see her doing anything distracting other than looking like a million bucks, but she's being escorted away from the area. Whelan prepares to throw," the play-by-play man said.

"Strike one! Curve ball low caught Ralzona looking. Okay, now that beauty is away, it looks like Whalen can become the beast again."

"Strike two! Count is full. Whalen has found his center. That one topped 101. Twitter is going nuts right now wondering who the woman was. His ex? Not sure. Next pitch and... got him! Strike three, two out, top of the ninth," said the play-by-play man.

Another three pitches would see the game end with the Dodgers winning three to two. As the players ran out of the dugout to congratulate Whalen for the save, the young pitcher searched the stands for something.

The stunning young woman cheered the win in the stands behind the Dodger dugout. Tommy walked to the edge of the field, grabbed a pen from the manager, wrote something on the game ball, and waved at the woman.

She was surprised to see him notice her and waved back. He gently threw her the ball as an ESPN reporter came to interview him.

Cecelina Lyons caught the ball tossed by the pitcher with ease. Looking it over it to see his autograph, it read, I must meet you followed by this phone number.

Whelan's eyes remained on Cecelina while he completed his interview. He gestured the "call me" pose, and she nodded yes with a huge smile.

The hashtag #major-league-distraction started trending on Twitter just a few minutes after the game ended. Cecelina's face was plastered all over the internet as people wondered who the distracting beauty was.

Someone even started a change.org signature drive to have her banned from Dodger Stadium on days when Tommy Whelan was pitching.

In less than 12 hours, the internet found all about Cecelina, revealing her as a movie studio executive and an avid Dodger fan.

A day later, Tommy's phone rang. It was Cecelina calling to apologize for the commotion. Tommy refused to accept her apology over the phone and asked her to meet him for lunch. She agreed, so long as the lunch was at Pinks, one of Los Angeles's oldest hot dog stands.

It was Saturday afternoon when the two met in person. Tommy was nervous. But those nerves dissipated when Cecelina dropped into the seat across from him. After talking about the weather and the Dodger's upcoming games, Tommy got to the point.

"I'm sorry for embarrassing you at the game. But when I saw you, I was so distracted

"Major league distracted according to the internet," Cecelina added with a laugh.

"I did not realize it would become such a big deal. I've never had that happen before," he replied.

"Well, I'm flattered," Cecelina added with her huge smile.

"I assume you have a boyfriend. Married?" he asked.

"No, and no. I keep busy at work. My dating life is dead.

"You work in the movies. I saw that on TMZ," Tommy said. "How do you not have movie stars falling all over you."

"You've heard the term, don't shit where you eat. Well, don't date where you work should be another guideline in life."

"Can I take you out sometime? Something nicer than a hot dog stand?" Tommy asked.

An hour later, the two were sipping cocktails at Terranea, a swanky resort in Palos Verdes overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The more they talked, the more they became interested in each other.

She was from Nashville, and he had attended college at the University of Tennessee. They loved movies and baseball and agreed that Die Hard was not a Christmas movie.

Their most significant connection was their love of Dole Whip ice cream at Disneyland. Each had tried to recreate the soft-serve dessert at home with little luck.

Hours later, Tommy dropped Cecelina at her West Hollywood apartment. Walking her to the door, he reached out to hug her.

"You want to come up for a while?" she asked.

"Yes, I do, but no, I won't," Tommy responded painfully. "I want to see you again and then again."

"A gentleman. I didn't think those existed anymore," she said.

"I am going to be honest with you; I'll go home now and kick myself for hours for not coming up to your apartment," he said in all sincerity.

"We've got an industry screening of Jackson Tibbetts's new movie tomorrow night at the studio. Care to join me?"

Tommy was all in, and they agreed to meet for their second date tomorrow evening.

Tommy could not get Cecelina out of his mind as he drove off and instantly began second-guessing himself for not going to her apartment. Chivalry sucks, he thought to himself.

Cecelina's position at the studio was mid-level creative. She had plenty of people who supported her, but like any woman in the film industry, she was battling the good old boys club. Still, she was at the table with the writers, producers, and directors, helping develop their ideas into feature films.

Just a few years ago, she had graduated from Howard University and found her way to the movie studio on an internship basis. Her boss at the time was a rising star female executive. That association ended when the executive became obsessed with her beauty and turned into a stalker. The exec was fired, and Cecelina was given her position to prevent a lawsuit. The job was a lot of work and very satisfying, but she proved she was worthy of the position. Still, it came with a side of misogyny.

Tommy threw the ball to her at the perfect moment in her life. Single and lonely, she had few friends and remained immersed in her work. Her co-workers were dangerous ladder climbers that would either fuck you or knife you or fuck you and then knife you.

The Dodgers were her escape. She had that great seat behind home plate because the studio president, Josh Donnett, had to go out of town, so she begged his assistant for his seat and got it. The rest was baseball history.

Tommy pulled up to the administrative building at the movie studio around six pm. Cecelina met him out front wearing a sleek Tahari suit looking as stunning in business attire as she did when Tommy first saw her behind the backstop three weeks ago.

As Cecelina walked into the studio theater, there was a slight murmur the distracted pitcher accompanied by his Major League Distraction.

Jackson Tibbetts, People Magazine's sexiest man alive and the current box office golden boy, entered behind them, tapping Tommy on the shoulder. The two embraced and recounted their last adventure together at a bachelor party for one of the Lakers.

Jackson looked at Cecelina with a smile. "So, it was you," he said. "I was watching the game on TV and said that's Cecelina! You might be the most famous person on this studio lot right now."

Cecelina gestured to Jackson to speak to her in private for a moment. Out of earshot of any co-workers, she informed him the studio would be looking for a new actor to play Superman.

"Since the last time we talked, I heard Paramount is itching to offer you a deal," she said. I'm working on Josh Donnett, but he's not budging. Can you hold longer? You would crush it as Superman."

"Donnett hates me. I don't see him letting that happen," Jackson confided, "but I won't sign any deals elsewhere for now."

Cecelina and Tommy sat near the aisle at the rear of the theater. Since this was a select industry preview, only a few dozen executives, some agents, actors, and producers were in attendance.

The film was an action thriller about an FBI agent who infiltrates the Mafia only to fall in love with the Godfather's daughter.

Tommy was enjoying the movie when he felt Cecelina's hand on his. It was a nice feeling, and he grasped her fingers. During a tense chase scene, Cecelina grabbed Tommy's hand tight. From there, the handholding became a subtle sexual game as the two explored hands the way people explore nude bodies for the first time. Cecelina rubbed the outside of Tommy's hand. He used his thumb to caress her palm. For a hand version of footsie, it was subtle and intense.

Each felt the other's body heat rising in the darkness. Moving Tommy's hand to her leg, Cecelina hiked her short skirt and directed Tommy's hand to her inner thigh. From there, he knew what to do and suddenly found his fingers pressed against the moist mesh of her thong. He pressed lightly, pushing the fabric into her vulva and causing her to squirm slightly.

Enough was enough. She pulled his hand away, stood up, and guided Tommy outside the theater.

Tommy pressed the much smaller Cecelina against the wall in a dark alley between two soundstages. The two exchanged deep kisses that were just not enough. A sense of urgency was upon them, and what needed to happen needed to happen now.

Cecelina spotted a large soundstage labeled Set Storage. Guiding Tommy, they went inside the massive building. The facility was dimly lit. Sets from movies and TV shows past filled the facility in a haphazard mazelike way.

Cecelina led Tommy, who was looking around like a fanboy.

"Oh shit, it's the set from Big Bang Theory," Tommy shouted, running into what was once Sheldon and Leonard's living room.

Moving on through a door, he suddenly found himself in a futuristic setting.

Westworld!

"I didn't know you were such a geek, Cecelina said with a laugh, "The Gilmore Girls set is somewhere over there. Fairly certain parts of the West Wing sets are around here," Cecelina added.

Something caught Tommy's eye, and he was off like a rocket. Cecelina walked after him with a smile. Rounding a corner, she found him sitting on a couch on the set of an apartment living room. A smile filled his face.

"I am home," he declared with glee.

"The set of Friends?" she asked.

"Monica's apartment from Friends. The couch from Friends," he clarified, stroking the fabric in awe.

"Dude, you've pitched in Dodger Stadium. How is this so amazing?"

"This is the Dodger Stadium of TV. Come here, sit. We'll talk like we were on Friends," Tommy said.

"There were no girls that looked like me on Friends."

"Bullshit, they were all dimes," he said.

"White dimes," she added.

"Okay, let's recast it. Your name is Angelica. You live here. I'm Tucker; I live across the hall."

"Why is Tucker in my apartment?"

"He came over to ask you to turn down the music because he has the Bar exam tomorrow."

"So, Tucker's a lawyer. What does Angelica do?"

"She's...she's a lawyer too. She just passed the bar."

"Boring. Changing the channel."

"She's a Chef."

"Monica was a Chef."

"She's a doctor."

"Well, at least she's a professional. Okay, that works."

"Hey, Angelica, think you could keep the music down?" he said.

"Seriously? It's seven o'clock."

"I've been studying for the Bar exam, and now I've got a horrible headache."

"Oh, sit on the couch and let me look. After all, I am a doctor."

Tommy sat on the couch, moving close to Cecelina, who put her hands on either side of his face.

"Hmmm, this looks serious. You need something to relieve all this pent-up pressure."

Roleplay was coming to a rapid end. In the dim lighting, Tommy looked at Cecelina's beautiful face. Still holding his face with her hands, she leaned in and planted a soft wet kiss. Her lips were plump, full, and delicate to his touch. As he savored her taste, she ran her tongue across their locked lips wetting both his and hers.

Tommy's hands started to roam. Cecelina pushed them back.

"Hey, who's examining who? I'm the doctor. Don't make me restrain you."

Cecelina's hand dropped to Tommy's lap and began massaging his thickening cock through his pants. She could feel it s mass growing. Tommy leaned back to allow the tip to push past his underwear band and relieve some pressure.

He tried to move his hand to Cecelina's tits, but she pushed them away.

"I warned you."

Cecelina stood up, reached under her skirt, and gently pulled down her wet thong.

She put Tommy's hands through the leg holes of the flimsy garment and twisted the cloth, making a sexy restraint.

"Are you going to behave?" she whispered, followed by her tongue probing his ear. Tommy shivered and nodded to confirm his obedience.

With Tommy's hands bound, she expertly unbuckled his belt, then slowly drew down his zipper revealing his cock head poking over the top of his underwear. She pushed the cloth away, revealing his enraged phallus, thick, veined, and pulsating as it awaited her touch.

Moving her head to his lap, Cecelina circled the mushroom cap of Tommy's cock with her long tongue. The teasing only enraged his phallus, which seemed to try and find its way into her mouth.

Cecelina's smile was her best feature because of her beautiful white teeth and a large mouth. Despite Tommy's ample size, she quickly engulfed his cock and began to bob her head up and down, sucking in her cheeks to add a velvet element of massage to his glans. With each downward movement, she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth and then into her throat.

With each rise, she would suck, creating a vacuum on Tommy's cock, swallowing any sweat or precum.

The taste of his flesh caused her mouth to water, and the blowjob became wet as she used her mouth to masturbate his thickness orally.

Tommy lay still, wanting to return the favor but held prisoner by Cecelina's intense fellation and her thong handcuffs.

Finally, Cecelina came up for air and looked Tommy in the eyes.

"I'm impressed; most men would have cum already," she said with a lascivious smile. "Either you don't like my blowjobs, or you're a man with self-control."

Tommy didn't get a chance to answer as Cecelina pushed him down on the couch, so he was lying long on his back. She climbed on the couch on her knees so her skirt covered his face.

Tented by the darkness created by her skirt, he could barely make out her cunt, but he could smell her organic scent as he hot boxed her aroma. Her gentle bouquet was grounding and calming. He felt electrified by its tangy pungency.

Tommy's body tingled like a rush of caffeine, and his mind wandered to thoughts of this slender woman's twaut. Those thoughts quickly became realized as she hiked her skirt, letting the light reveal her entrance.

Tommy had imagined her hairless, but Cecelina was something better. A slight trail of coarse, black hair began just below her belly button and tapered into a happy trail that spread below into a thin veil of tight kinky hair, not much thicker than a five o'clock shadow covering the space between her thighs.

As she hovered above him, a single bead of her dew slid down her slit and fell onto his lips with pinpoint accuracy. He licked his lips, growing hungry to taste her.

Her labia majora was perfectly pronounced, surrounding her labia minora and clit like parentheses. It was flawless, symmetrical, and sealed shut by the dampness of her effluence.

Cecelina took her fingers to her cunt lips

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 1

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 23:01:00 +0000

Portmanteau - Gone Hollywood: Part 1

An Unchained Melody Develops.

Based on a post by Wendy Trilby, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Author s note: This is an installment in the anthology series entitled Portmanteau. Each vignette of Portmanteau is a multi-part series. A collection of three stand-alone erotic short stories, all loosely associated with each other.

"Stop! Stop! Enough. Cut. Just stop," Rick Lockwood said, climbing the two steps to the stage of the black box theater"What was that?" he asked.

"It was a kiss," Danny said with an air of defensiveness.

"A kiss? Who were you kissing? Your grandmother? Your aunt with the little mustache? Who?" Lockwood insisted.

"She's supposed to be my girlfriend," Danny said.

"So, kiss her like that. I know it's a stage kiss, but the audience must believe it. The words are fine, but then again, you didn't write them; you're just repeating them, but the kiss comes from you," said the frustrated drama teacher.

"I don't think we have any chemistry," Maurillia added.

"What does that matter? Half the actors in Hollywood are gay. Do you think they enjoy kissing you? It's not chemistry! It's acting!"

Maurillia was offended by the comment but wisely chose not to show it.

"Acting is pretending, pretending to be in love," Lockwood said, "the words help, but it's the body that sells it. The little touches, sneaking a glance, getting too close. When it comes to the kiss, it's in the linger."

Maurillia and Danny looked dejected. Failure on the path to making it as an actor amplifies all the "are you nuts" and "you won't make it" comments they and every actor in the workshop had ever heard.

Rick looked at his students and recognized the defeat.

"Relax, it's not the end of the world. Unlike a real relationship where you need to find an emotional connection, this is pretending. So, here's your homework. Find me a two-person scene with a good kiss at the end, rehearse it, and bring it back to us next week."

"I think It would be better if we changed partners," Maurillia suggested.

"Sure. Sounds good. Let me check if Brad Pitt is available. Oh, look, he's not so, NO! The two of you do it."

Maurillia sat down with Bethany Shields as the class let out to vent her frustration.

"How am I supposed to make this work when my assigned partner is a raging asshole?"

"Danny?" Bethany remarked, "He's a great guy. Why the hate?"

"He gets under my skin with his boy next door act," Maurillia muttered.

Danny was heading their way, so Bethany took the opportunity to leave rather than get between them.

"So, any ideas on what scene to do?" Danny asked.

"This isn't going to work; you and I can't do a scene together," Maurillia responded.

"Look, I know you hate me, and to be honest, you are right at the top of my shit list as well, but I did not bust my ass to get to LA so I could fail an acting class. You want to walk away, fine, but do me a favor and quit the course so no one thinks I'm the incompetent one."

"The scene failed because you kiss like a ten-year-old," Maurillia shot back.

"The scene failed because you're as frigid on the stage as you are in real life," he replied.

"Get over yourselves, the two of you," Rick interrupted, "the fact is you both sucked up there. Fifty-fifty.

Richard walked away and began singing I'll Be There For You, leaving the two non-lovebirds wondering.

George, the stage manager, passed by with a laugh.

"What? What's so funny? Why's he singing that song?" Danny asked.

"It's his passive-aggressive way of saying your future will be watching Friends reruns while other people are out getting acting jobs," George replied.

"Fuck me," Danny muttered.

Maurillia grabbed her bag to leave, then turned to face Danny planting a finger in his chest.

"Okay, you find a scene, something that ends with a kiss. Text me when you find it. We rehearse. We kiss. We put this behind us."

"Fine. I'll find something," Danny said.

"And one more thing, work on your kissing. Buy a sex doll or something," Maurillia said as she stormed off.

"I hate that bitch," Danny told Bethany as they left the studio.

Danny. walked down the hall of his Santa Monica apartment complex to the door of Mrs. Fridley, the building manager.

Now in her late 60s, Mrs. Fridley was a Hollywood wannabe who came out to Los Angeles in the '70s to make her way but got caught up in the drugs and fast thrills of the adult entertainment industry. She made a name for herself in porn, but that was way before the internet, so her income and fame had their limitations. Still, she was proud of her work and had several movie posters in her apartment, complete with bottle-blonde hair, big tits, and a huge bush the three hallmarks of a '70s porn star.

Mrs. Fridley opened the door wearing a floor-length sheer robe and smiled at Danny, inviting him in. She liked Danny because he was polite, handsome, and quiet.

She made a habit of going through her tenants' apartments when they were not home, snooping through personal items, and always checking the top drawer of the dresser. That's where the secrets are. She knew every sex toy in the building, every hidden stash of weed. Every depravity. She didn't judge. She just loved knowing.

She saw Danny was troubled when he handed her the check. Since she was always a good listener, he unloaded his issues with acting class, the bitch he was paired up with, and the scene he needed to find.

Mrs. Fridley jumped up with inspiration. She knew just the scene and went to her shelves stacked with movies from all decades. Danny looked around, unable to take his eyes off her poster for Manhandled, where a nude young Mrs. Fridley sat on a bed in a thin negligee, her enormous tits peeking out while looking both seductive and afraid.

She was hot back then, he thought to himself, then looked at her ass as she searched the shelves. For a woman in her late 60s, Mrs. Fridley still had it going on.

"Got it," she screamed, handing him the movie Ghost starring Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.

"The final scene in this movie is just heartbreaking. The best kiss in the history of the movies."

Danny remembered the movie and recalled how hot Demi Moore was. Despite being a total bitch, Maurillia was equally desirable as Demi Moore, so there was that. Swayze always moved the meter with the ladies, so this could be the scene that would wow the class.

As he left, Danny's phone rang with a call from Tessa Jacobs, his agent.

"Danny, how's my favorite cowboy," his agent asked.

"Cowboy?" Danny replied.

"Aren't you from Wyoming or some cowboy place?"

"No, I'm from Baltimore," he said.

"No matter, Universal is casting cowboys for a movie with Chris Pratt. There are a few lines, a fantastic opportunity. The casting call is tomorrow morning, eight in the morning. Can you be all Ringo bang bang for me tomorrow? They want a cold reading, so they'll have sides for you there. Eight o'clock, baby."

Danny had yet to get many auditions, so the idea of getting a speaking role in a feature was overwhelming. He thanked Tessa profusely. The day had finally turned around. Good news, and after tomorrow, better news. He was sure of it.

Hours later, Danny walked in the back door of Basilicata, one of the most popular restaurants in Santa Monica. He grabbed his notebook and reviewed the specials as the bar manager Tina approached him.

"We got a new bartender, so when you get a chance, can you show her how the order system works for people eating at the bar?" Tina asked.

"Sure thing, hey, I got an audition tomorrow," Danny added excitedly.

"That's great. Good luck," Tina said with a smile.

Tips rolled in nicely at Basilicata, but the bar tips were double the servers, not to mention the opportunity to meet women was much better when working the bar. While he was always happy to help, the idea of a new bartender irritated him because he had been asking Tina to give him a chance to mix drinks. Still, if he got the role tomorrow, he would quit this job, so screw the bartender idea.

Danny made his way past the tables and over to the bar. All the seats were filled as three bartenders were busy creating expensive craft cocktails.

The new bartender wore a sheer white top and black leather pants so tight they looked painted on.

Wow, she's got an incredible ass, Danny thought as he walked up to her. Tapping her shoulder, she turned and...

"Maurillia?" Danny said, shocked. "Why are you here?"

"I'm the bartender," she said incredulously. "What are you doing back here? Customers are not allowed behind the bar."

"I work here," Danny exclaimed. "I've worked here for a year. And you

"Work here too now. Okay, listen, I've got drinks to make, so put on your little apron and go. You can't be back here bugging me on my first day."

Tina came over to check on the situation.

"Tina, I can't work with this person," Danny said adamantly.

"You don't work with her. You work over there, waiting tables," she replied flatly.

"Find someone else to train her. I've got too much to do."

"Meow, does Danny need a nap?" Tina said in a baby voice. Both she and Maurillia laughed at the joke as Danny stormed away.

It was a busy night at Basilicata. Much to Danny's chagrin, Maurillia was tearing it up at the bar. She was confident, quick on the orders, and flirted just enough with both the men and the women to ensure she would make bank.

The restaurant closed before midnight, and the staff decided to walk over to Lucy Finn's, where they would go clubbing until the sun came up.

Danny begged off because of his morning audition, went home, crawled into bed, and set his alarm for 6:30 in the morning. He would get up, shower, and head out early to avoid traffic. Despite his excitement, he fell deep asleep.

In the late night darkness, Danny heard a door slam and muffled voices in the apartment next door. Not again, not tonight, he thought to himself.

Butter Butt was going at it extra late tonight. Listening to his next-door neighbor have loud sex was sometimes fun and even titillating. She was insatiable, and he knew this session would last an hour at least.

Pulling a pillow over his head, he turned, but her moans were in sync with her bed rhythmically tapping on his apartment wall.

Wide awake, he sat in bed, his eyes open as the woman's moaning rose and fell. While her words were muffled, he could hear "fuck me, baby" and "deeper, deeper" followed by a growing moan. The moaning persisted, getting louder with each moment.

She was enjoying tonight's date, and Danny knew it would continue until he heard the magic words. The sex sounds, while annoying, were still sex, and a movement in his boxer briefs made Danny realize he had an erection.

Thinking he might get some sleep if he relaxed, Danny began to masturbate to the sounds. He didn't know what Butter Butt looked like, but he imagined Abella Danger, one of his go-to porn stars, and stroked away.

"Fuck me from behind," Butter Butt ordered her man. Danny knew she was heading toward her closing move.

He increased his stroke as the moans and groans increased in cadence until she yelled out, "Butter my ass with your cum."

There it was! The reason he called her Butter Butt. She always had her fuck boys finish on her ass. Maybe she wasn't using protection. Perhaps she didn't like the mess inside her. Whatever it was, Danny's groans and hers increased to a crescendo as they came together.

Danny smiled from the orgasm as he drifted to sleep. He knew after Butter Butt climaxed, she would fall asleep, so he drifted off.

The sun peeked in Danny's window as he saw his phone buzz. Rolling over, he noticed two things: his agent was calling, and the time was 9:00 am!

"Shit! Fuck! No!" he screamed as he jumped out of bed and ran around the room looking for his clothes. Butter Butt's escapade had caused him to oversleep, and now his future was very much in doubt.

He was dressed in three minutes and in his car within five, but the drive to the audition would take an hour in traffic. Fuck you, Butter Butt, he thought.

Getting Tessa on the phone, he begged her to call the casting agent and see if she might get a later time.

She agreed to call but then sent him a text with unwelcome news. Sorry, no audition.

Hours later, Danny sat in his apartment watching the movie Ghost while falling in love with Demi Moore's character, Molly. In the scene, Sam and Molly meet again for the first time since his death. She sits and watches as a heavenly portal opens to beckon her ethereal husband. An orchestral version of Unchained Melody plays as ghost Sam leans in to kiss Molly. The kiss was tender, lingering, and the beginning of his goodbye.

"It's amazing, Molly, the love inside. You take it with you," Sam says.

Molly cries as only Demi Moore can, and Swayze enters the light.

Danny broke away from the moment, tears streaming down his cheeks. That was the scene, for sure. He doubted Maurillia would hold up to Demi Moore, but he felt he could do as well as Swayze.

It was another packed house at Basilicata. While ordering cocktails for table 18, Danny waved Maurillia over.

"What? I've got a shit ton of orders to finish

"Ghost, the final scene. Great kiss and the most emotional scene you can imagine. It's perfect for class," Danny said with a hopeful look. "Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze."

"Never seen it. I don't like horror movies," Maurillia replied.

"It's not a horror film. It's a love story. Trust me. Watch it and let me know what you think. We can rehearse it starting tomorrow if you've got some time."

Maurillia agreed to watch the movie after her shift and would text him her thoughts in the morning. The rest of the night, Danny kept glancing at the lines of dialogue from the scene while working his tables.

He would sneak a look at Maurillia, imagining her in the scene. One thing was for sure, Maurillia had the best ass he had ever seen on a woman, naked or clothed. Her small tits took nothing away from her overall look, and her black hair punctuated her pale skin and rounded out her beautiful face.

If she wasn't such a bitch, she might be fun, he thought.

It was two in the morning when Maurillia got home to her apartment. She was tired but not ready for sleep, so she put the DVD in and began to watch Ghost.

Over the next two hours, she found herself enraptured in the film, in love with Sam and Molly, and she viewed the kiss scene in tears as Unchained Melody played behind the action. She texted Danny as soon as the scene ended.

Danny was asleep, dreaming about the Ghost scene, only the Demi Moore character was Maurillia, and the Swayze character was himself. The music swelled, and he walked into the light. But the light was his cell phone lighting up and buzzing from a 3 am text. The text was from Maurillia. Just watched the movie. Loved the scene. Let's do it.

Excited that they found a perfect scene, he texted back. Great. When can you rehearse?

Tomorrow is fine, she replied. I live in Santa Monica. 225 Fourth Avenue, near Rose.

Danny sat up in alarm and typed back. I live at 225 Fourth Avenue. Apartment 3B!

There was hesitation. Then text thought bubbles appeared, and the text arrived. I live in apartment 3C.

"Butter Butt!" Danny said out loud.

Jumping from his bed, wearing only his boxer briefs and an Orioles T-shirt, Danny ran out of his apartment into the hall. Looking at the door to the apartment next door, it read 3C. The entrance to 3C opened. Maurillia peeked out wearing tiny shorts and a ripped Mickey Mouse T-shirt to see Danny standing there.

"What the fuck?" she exclaimed.

"You're Butter Butt! You're the reason I missed my audition," Danny yelled.

"What are you talking about? Butter Butt? What are you calling me that for, asshole?"

Danny walked toward her, allowing his door to swing shut.

"You and your loud sex kept me up till all hours last night. I overslept. I missed an audition," he said in anger.

"That's not my fault," she replied.

"Have you heard yourself having sex? You are loud. Very loud."

"Umm, no. I tend to be in the moment," Maurillia whispered, trying to keep voices down.

"Well, the rest of the building has and

"Good night, asshole," she said and closed the door leaving Danny in the hallway.

Returning to his apartment, he realized his door had closed and locked behind him. He was out in the hall, no pants, no keys, and no way back into his apartment.

Knocking on Maurillia's door, she opened it with an angry face.

"What? Are you looking to hear me take a piss? What kind of creep listens to other people getting laid?"

"I'm locked out. Can I use your phone to call Mrs. Fridley?" Danny asked.

Maurillia rolled her eyes and begrudgingly invited him inside. Her apartment was a mirror image of his, with a living room and kitchenette plus a single bedroom sharing a common wall with him. Her TV set was on, with the end credits of Ghost still running as Unchained Melody played.

"This is incredible. I mean, it's just incredible. Somehow the universe has allowed you to invade every bit of my life in the past 48 hours. My drama class, my work, and now you live next door to me," Danny said with frustration.

"I've lived here for two years," she replied.

End of the World: Part 8

dawkinsblog@gmail.com (various authors) — Sat, 19 Sep 2026 02:50:00 +0000

End of the World: Part 8.

Is California the new 'Eden'?

Based on a post by j miller. Listen to the ►Podcast at Explicit Novels.

I was alone in my bedroom a couple nights later when Pam came in and shut the door. She came over and sat on the side of the bed. “Do you remember what we talked about when we returned from the cliff?"

“Yes I do. I thought you were going to come and spend some time with me. You didn’t so I thought maybe you had changed your mind."

“No, I did not change my mind. I did not want to interfere with Karen. She needed you more at the time. Plus, I wanted to give you some time to be sure you would really want me around more. Then when I was ready Beth was monopolizing you."

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

“That’s okay. I don’t mind sharing you a bit. They are my sisters and there are not enough guys to go around. I just want more of you for me, that is, if you want more of me."

I laughed, “I did not know there was more of you to be had."

She poked me in the ribs, “You know what I mean. I’m serious."

The last words came out softly, “Yes, I do want more of you."

She got up, turned out the light, got into bed and moved up next to me. “I am so glad to hear that because there is going to be more of me to get. I’m pregnant. It must have been that horse ride." That memory brought smiles to both of our faces.

We made love slowly that night, savoring the feeling. Afterwards, as she drifted off to sleep, I lay there wondering how our lives might change from this point. So far no one had really paired off, or, if not pairs, settled as a small group. It would be interesting. With those thoughts still bouncing around in my head I finally drifted off to sleep.

The days had started getting shorter though the temperatures were still warm. Most of our summer work was finished. The harvests were all in. If we got anything more it would be gravy. We had moved the livestock from the higher pastures down where the weather would be gentler to them. We could all take it a bit easier now.

For the last couple of months I had been turning down Jason and Paul’s invitations to join them in the gym. They seemed to come every Friday. Tonight was Friday and I thought I’d finally join in if they asked. I have not played basketball with them since right after we built the gym. I could use some fun.

After dinner I went to my bedroom to get a pair of shorts and some shoes. Most of the boys I had seen going to the gym were wearing shorts and shoes. I guess it could get a little uncomfortable with a cock slapping around while you were playing. The girls were a real mix. Most of the older girls still wore little if any clothing except when it got cold. Many of the younger girls now wore some clothing, even in the summer. It was a funny thing. I was used to seeing the girls naked all these years, and I got a sexual rise when I thought about them sexually. But seeing some of the girls clothed all the time could get me aroused even more, just wondering what their uncovered body looked like.

I was going through my closet looking for a pair of shorts I liked when Pam came in and asked, “What are you looking for?"

“I’m looking for those purple shorts,” I said.

She poked her head in the closet and pointed, “They are over there." I found them, stepped out of the closet and put them on. “What do you need them for?"

I sat on the bed and started putting on my shoes. “Jason and Paul have been after me for quite a while to play some basketball in the gym. I thought I would join them tonight and have a little fun."

“Isn’t today Friday?"

“I think so. Yes, I’m sure it is."

“I don’t think they play basketball on Friday’s, but go ahead. I’m sure you will have fun." She came up to me and put her arms around my neck, pressing her tits into my chest and kissed me. “You always could stay here and have some fun. I’m sure I could give you the exercise you need."

I smiled at her and then rubbed her big tummy. Yes, that would be fun indeed. “I’ll try and not play too long. I’ll be back soon. They usually start around 8 o’clock and it is just past that now."

She gave me a little smile, “You might be surprised. Friday nights in the gym can get pretty wild. You might not have anything left for me later. But I might come over in a while and watch."

“I save some energy for you” I assured her. Then with a kiss on her bare tummy and a quick pat on her ass, I was out the door. I went through the house, past the kitchen, to the hallway that connected the gym to the house. We had built the connection hallway so that we could get to the gym even in bad weather. The hallway was a good forty feet long. As I approached the end of it I was surprised not to hear the sound of a bouncing basketball. They must be between games.

When I reached the door, I turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. The scene was so unexpected that at first I did not know what I was looking at. There seemed to be a sea of naked bodies in front of me. There were bodies lying on top of each other, side by side, sitting on one another. I could not see a stitch of clothing on anyone.

Just a few feet to my right I could see a woman that I was guessing was one of my sisters. I guessed because she was facing away from me and I could not see her face though I could tell she was much older than the other girls in here. She was on her hands and knees between the spread legs of one of the younger boys. It looked like Jimmy, fifteen, one of Shelly’s boys. He had his eyes closed and his mouth open as her head bobbed up and down on his cock. Behind her, Jimmy’s seventeen-year-old brother David was on his knees moving up closer to her. His cock was as hard as it would ever get in his lifetime and I could see that he was moving up to fuck her from behind. I continued watching him as he got right behind her, put his hands on her hips and positioned himself to plunge into her. When the head of his cock touched her pussy she waved one hand back at him like she was trying to wave him off. He did not even notice. His attention was on getting that cock into her pussy. He moved a bit closer and then pulled back on her hips and thrust forward at the same time. In one smooth stroke he was buried in her. He held her hips tight against him. I could tell he was just enjoying the sensation of being buried so deep inside of her. The thrust had a different effect upon her though. Her head popped up off of Jimmy. She turned around to see who was fucking her and I got my second surprise, though not my last one of the night. It was my sister Shelly. She was sucking off one of her sons and getting fucked by another at the same time. She motioned at David to stop but he had his eyes closed and was beginning to thrust faster into her. I could see him bury himself right up to his balls in her. Seeing she could not stop him, and from the look on her face, deciding she did not want to, she went back to Jimmy’s cock. It was just a minute before David was slamming so hard into her she could not keep her mouth on Jimmy. She lay her head down on Jimmy’s stomach and let David pound her.

I could see Jimmy attention had wandered and he slid out from under his mother’s head. Just inside the door there were seven or eight girls sitting on the floor just in front of me to my left. They must be the second string waiting to go in. As soon as Jimmy had slid away from his mother two of the girls got up and moved over to him. One of them immediately sat down and impaled herself on his cock and began rocking back and forth on him. The other girl moved around to his head and knelt above him facing the other girl. The girls began kissing each other and rubbing each other’s tits while Jimmy began licking the pussy above him.

I looked back at Shelly and her son just as he started cumming in her. This was some basketball game. As I looked around the room I could see that there were around fifteen of the boys there. With each one of them there were two girls and with a couple of the boys there were three. There were girl’s knees up in the air, legs up in the air, girls sitting on cocks, and sitting on quite a few faces. On the far side of the room I spotted one of my other sisters, Susan, lying on her back with one of the teenage boys on top of her, his hips pounding at her. I watched for a moment as he finished and rolled off of her. Another of the boys, cock at full attention, was crawling by at the moment, headed for two girls in the corner, saw Susan still lying on her back with her knees up in the air, changed directions and crawled right up on top of her. He just slid right into her and continued the pounding she had been getting earlier.

By the back wall were three girls that apparently did not need any guys, or at the least, were tired of waiting for one. They formed a kind of triangle with a head buried between each pair of thighs.

I must have made some sound because a couple of the girls sitting in front of me turned their heads and saw me standing there. They nudged the other girls and suddenly they all got up and surrounded me. “Daddy, you made it. Come join us." A girl grabbed each arm, and began pulling me. I felt my shorts drop to my knees. There were so many girls around me I did not even know which one had pulled them down. As I stepped out of them someone was pulling my shoes off. Then two girls were behind me pushing at me, and one, and honestly, I did not even know I was hard, grabbed my very hard cock and pulled me over to where they had been sitting. Before I knew it I was flat on my back and they were arguing over who was going to go first. “I saw him first." “No you didn’t, I did." One of the smarter girls did not bother to argue. She just climbed on me and with one well-placed squat, put me halfway inside of her. “Oh Daddy. That’s perfect." She was a bit tight and it took her several pushes to get me all the way inside of her. By now the other girls saw what was happening and their cries changed to “Don’t let Daddy cum. We all want a turn."

All I could think of was that there were six of them. They’d kill me before I could satisfy all of them. Then I remembered the boy with the two girls. I looked around me. All I could see were tits and nipples everywhere. I reached out for the closest girl and pulled her over until her pussy was right above me. I started moving my tongue around her pussy slowly. I sucked her labia into my mouth and then ran my tongue into her pussy as far as I could reach, sweeping up and down her slit. After a few minutes she began to squirm. Now it was time. I started flicking my tongue across her clitoris, then in circles around it. I could hear moaning but was not sure if it was from the one on my face or sitting on my cock. I could tell from her movements she had to be close also. They both came minutes apart and two more took their place as soon as they could get the first two to move. And so we continued. I was getting worried about what would happen after everyone had a turn. Would they want seconds? Would I pass out from dehydration? When the last two girls were having their turn I was saved by the arrival of a couple new boys. The first four girls immediately grabbed them before anyone else saw them and moved over to an empty corner.

I was down to my last ride. She had started out very slowly, rocking back and forth with my cock inside of her. Then she slid off me to one side and pulled at me to get me on her. As I moved above her she spread her legs out wide. When I settled in on top of her she brought her legs up and locked her ankles behind me back. I slowly lowered my weight on her and began pumping into her. “Fuck me Daddy." Every few strokes she would repeat it. “Fuck me harder Daddy." I did my best to accommodate.

She tilted her pelvis up to me as I was driving into her, putting hard pressure on her clitoris. “Oh yes Daddy, fuck me." I was trying hard not to cum but after three pussies wrapped around my cock I just could not wait any longer, I surrendered and let myself go inside of her. As the sperm gushed out of me I grabbed her hips and began grinding against her clitoris. It worked as she gave a little gasp and began thrusting with me. Over the next thirty seconds she began pushing harder and harder with me until she finally arched her back and to my dismay, sank her nails into my back. She finally relaxed, unlocked her legs and lay there breathing hard. I had stayed hard enough for her to finish but the nails had ended that.

“Daddy, you need to come back next week. The other boys don’t fuck me like that."

“I don’t know. I think I’m going to take up badminton. Basketball might be a little too hard on me."

“What?"

“Never mind, private joke."

I looked around the room again. Several of the girls had left but it looked like all the boys were still there. The room was almost down to one-to-one. In fact there were a couple of unpaired boys in a far corner. “Hey, Dad’s finished for the night but I see a couple of boys over there who look interested."

She raised her head, “Where?"

I moved my head slightly towards them. She looked around at them and then back to me. “You don’t mind?"

“Of course not. Go get em, tiger."

She smiled and gave me a kiss on the lips. Then she moved off me and began moving towards the two boys. Two images quickly went through my mind; that of a tiger stalking its prey, and two honeybees pollinating a flower. I was not sure which was more appropriate. I finally decided they were both right.

I took one last look around and saw two girls to my right look my way. Before they could get up I got to my feet and scooted out the door. No shame in a strategic retreat. I was finished pollinating flowers for the night and did not want to be prey. As I walked down the hall I met Jason walking back to the gym with a big platter of fruit in his hands. “Glad to see you could make it Dad."

“You might have told me you guys weren’t playing basketball in the gym."

Jason laughed, “I never said we were playing basketball. I hope you weren’t disappointed."

I had to smile. “I wouldn’t say disappointment is what I’m feeling right now."

Jason started to move past me, “I’d better get in there. Some of the guys are getting pretty dehydrated. Are you coming back next week?"

I stepped aside so he could get the platter through, “We’ll see if I’ve recovered by then."

When I got back to my bedroom Pam was already asleep. I got in bed and moved up behind her, put my arm around her waist and up between her tits to her shoulder. In a sleepy voice she said, “I must have fell asleep. How was basketball?"

I could swear she was smiling as she said it. “It was fine. But I think I might have to go back to bucking hay to get a rest from that game."

I could not see it, but I could hear the smile in her voice, “I’m not saying I told you so, but, I told you so." What could I say? I just hugged her and we both dropped off to sleep.

Over the winter I studied all the books on the valley the boys had brought back for me. A plan was forming in my mind of how we could disperse to our advantage and not just spread out. From the books I learned there where a number of industries and businesses in the area that we could take advantage. There were huge amounts of rice grown in the central valley. There were also huge fruit orchards and vegetable fields up and down the valley. There were even several dehydrators out there. We would not be able to use the natural gas they had but we could utilize much of the equipment and we always had the sun. There was a farm museum about fifty miles from us that had a huge amount of horse drawn farm equipment. And just fifteen miles from us was a historical site that had a water-driven sawmill. And not too far from there was another site that had a water-driven mill for grinding grain into flour.

Once spring arrived we began checking these out. It took the first month to get around and check out all the sites I had identified as our best bets. All the sites looked promising but we decided that the rice fields and the fruit orchards would help us the most in the least amount of time. Along with the orchards we also found vast fields with vegetables.

Then we reached the tough part; who goes where? I had been mulling on this for over a year and it still was not a clear decision. We finally decided to break along the lines of what our objectives were. We decided that being able to harvest rice was the most important and then the orchards and vegetables. Later we would tackle the mills and anything else that we found to help us.

There were enough people interested in the adventure that we did not have to force anyone, at least for now. We decided that a cross-section of ages and family lines would make up each group. Regarding the family lines, we had Miley, Sharon, Janelle and our group, all with different DNA. There would always be more from our family but we added people from each of the other groups for the widest diversity that we could get.

During the middle of the summer, Terri, my youngest sister, and her group left for the valley. Jason and Paul went along for the ride and to help them set up. They did not expect to accomplish much before winter except ready living quarters. I considered going but Pam’s first baby was due in a couple of months and I wanted to be there.

The rest of the year went by uneventfully. When Pam’s time came there were three other of the girls giving birth on the same day. It made things interesting having four girls giving birth in the same room. When that happened in the past usually