• Chapter 1
  • Chapter 2
  • Chapter 3
  • Chapter 4
  • Chapter 5
  • Chapter 6
  • Chapter 7
  • Chapter 8


    Budding Boobs

    Chapter 1

    Babette's budding boobs were enough to bring tears to a young man's eyes.


    If that young man were a romantic like her boy- friend Channing Bentley.

    Or so Babette thought.

    At first.

    Babette read the lines of poetry young Channing had sent to her.

    Composed on his heavy ribbed personal stationery. Ribbed paper like raw silk.

    With fancy family crest embossed.

    She read the poem again.

    And again.

    And once more-over the telephone-to each of her closest girlfriends.

    Poetry about the spring.

    The breeze.

    Buds and flowers.

    Shady trees.

    Birds and bees.

    Spreading knees.

    Girls who tease.

    Adamant pleas.

    Fecund thoughts of young love.

    Images tart and naive.

    To make Babette's bosom heave.

    And there.

    Smeared along the bottom of the page.

    Remains of-tears?-shed by the love-possessed writer of the lines above.

    Lyrics of love that brought a rise to the insides of Babette's thighs.

    Sighs to her breast.

    And an itch to her clit.

    Enough to turn her bitch.

    "Oh, Darleene. You wouldn't believe it. The way it makes me feel to read it."

    "Naw, Babette. I can believe it okay. It's just, like, no one ever wrote a poem for me. I think Rudolph Blastitoff-you know, that dude who calls himself the Rude Warrior?-wrote some heavy metal rock lyrics he said were about me. But they sounded more like they were about slugging it out in a mud-wrestling bout than about, like, love."

    "Well this one-I think it is. You know, nature and all. Doesn't mention fucking or making out. Not in those words."

    "Bitchin', babes. Sounds like he really means it. Or maybe he's just more devious than most guys who are trying to pry themselves into your panties. At least it shows some imagination."

    "You mean, like, in art?"


    "I think he's real smart."

    "That's a start."

    "You said there was a candy heart inside?"

    "Yeah. And he cried!"

    "Did he write that?"

    "I can see the tears, dear."

    "Look again, Babette."

    "What do you mean?"

    "How do you know they're tears?"


    "Are they clear?"


    "How crinkly is the paper?"


    "What do you say?"

    "Maybe he spilled something."

    "Sure. Go on-kid me."


    "Say it."

    "Say what?"

    "What you're afraid to."

    "And what is that?"

    "He spilled something, all right."


    "He spilled his seed."


    "It's come."


    "Babette, doll. Hate to tell you this. Well, like, I don't actually hate telling you this. I mean, I think it's kind of an honor."

    "Shit. I know what you're saying."

    "Then you tell me."

    "Yeah. He jacked oft"

    "Yup. Bodacious."

    "This is his sperm right here."

    "Did you lick it?"

    "Oh, gross, Darleene."

    "I'd taste it if I were you, Babette. Lap it right on up."

    "Gag me with a scumsicle."

    "I'm not kidding."

    "You actually would lick some guy's dried jizz right off the paper like that?"

    "If it were meant for me I would."

    "I'll sniff it."


    "Can't tell"

    "Put your tonguetip to it."



    "I can't really taste anything, Darleene. I'll try some more."

    "It's the thought that counts."



    "The longer you lick-like, the more the flavor comes out. Gets thick in your mouth. You can move it around with your tongue."


    "Maybe I'm imagining it."

    "Ever see his pecker?"


    "Ever taste it for real?"

    "How could I? I mean, if I've never even seen his dick. You know, naked."

    "You can suck cock without seeing it."

    "Oh, come on."

    "In the dark."

    "Why not blindfolded?"

    "Tee hee hee. Maybe. Not a bad idea from a little cherry."

    "Make me blush."

    "Already did. Didn't I?"

    "Now it's my turn."

    "For what?"

    "To make you blush."


    "Guess what I'm doing."

    "Sucking the scum from that paper."

    "Mmm. More."


    "What, Darleene?"

    "Don't, Babette. I can hear it. I'm really jealous of you, doll."

    "Feels good when I rub it right there."

    "Oh, no."

    "It's scraping against my pubic hairs. Getting caked with my cream."

    "What a dream!"

    "It's between my pussylips."

    "Starting to drip?"

    "Mmm hm. And now. Gotta roll my teeshirt up a little more. There."

    "Right between your tits, huh?"

    "And on the nips."

    Babette smiled with her eyes closed. Thought of Darleene's mouth speaking, Sometimes the smutty things Darleene often said got Babette all worked up by themselves.

    Babette thought of Darleene's mouth moving away. Thought of those lips on her lips.

    Those times they had kissed, girl to girl while skinny-dipping together in Babette's backyard pool. Lips on hips. But not both sets mouthlips.

    Facelips on cuntlips.

    Mouthcheeks between asscheeks.

    Babette would be scared, but fantasy land was a safe place to be.

    So for a moment Babette allowed herself to chew another woman's snatch from behind in her mind. Nosh on the gash.

    Asscheeks held between teeth.

    Tongue up inside asshole.

    Darleene spoke on.

    "Send the poem back to him. See if he can eat your come from it."

    "Ha ha. Good idea, but I can't. He's traveling around. It came from Arabia, I think."


    "Shit, Darleene. I'd like to squeeze him. But he won't get back until-fuck! I can't fucking believe it, hon."


    "We'll be at the state fair next week. Like, I think all that week. That is, if we make it to the finals of the band contest."

    "Oh. That's when he's supposed to get back? Maybe he can come down."

    "Thought of that. But I don't want to take a chance. I mean-I don't want to talk to his parents. Know what I mean?"

    "They're like that, huh?"

    "Worse than that. They think that, like, because they have all this money-"


    "They think I'm trash, in fact."

    "Sure it's not your head?"

    "That's where they're coming from. Want their son to mix it up with a debutante."

    "Aren't many of those around this town."

    "Except maybe Suzanne Radcliffe."

    "She puts out."



    "Come on."

    "Believe so."

    "How do you know."

    "My brother told me."

    "Dudes always say that to you. It's supposed to make you think it's okay to go down with them the first time they see you."

    "Well, Babette. Don't want to break this to you, doll, but I don't think my brother's trying to ball me-not at all."

    "Ha ha ha ha ha. Guess you're right. What did Patrick say about Suzanne?"

    "He's fucked her."

    "Patrick? Sure."

    "Fucked her mouth. Fucked her ass. Fucked her cunt. Ate her twat. Ate her rump."

    "No tittyfuck?"

    "Says hers are too small."

    "Doesn't really look like it."

    "Well, she wears falsies, you know."

    "Never saw her-like, in the locker room or any-thing. Does her pussy have fuzz yet?"

    "More than yours."

    "I'm a late-bloomer, Darleene. Always have been. Always will be, I guess."

    "Well, you're the oldest virgin I know, Babette. That's for shit-sure."

    "You don't think a lot of the other ones were lying. I mean, they can't all fuck like they say they do-and still walk."

    "Who knows?"

    "And you, Darleene. You never really said straight out that you'd lost it."


    "You talk about it all the time like you really have done it. But never anything real specific. Oh, not that you should get that personal, necessarily. But, you know."

    "Can't talk about it now, Babette. Like, the door's ringing and I think it's Rudolph. He always show up like this. If he gets past my parents, I might have a quick date."

    "Good lick."

    "Thanks. Oh, and-uh, Babette. Give it a few yanks for me. Won't you?"


    "Your furbag. Your clit. Give your goodies a good hit for me."




    Babette tightened her mouth.

    Who else should she call?

    Or was it past that point already.

    There was a spinning in her head. Grinning in the smile below her belt.

    Babette reached down and felt.

    Damp beaver pelt.

    Itching like a bitch.

    Her hips did twitch.

    Stabbed her clit.


    Dabbed her fingers in her cleft.

    Pusslips sighed apart.

    Pressed in with her fingers.

    Sank in an inch.


    She saw Channing's face before her. Staring into her eyes.

    Trying her bod on for size. Rise in his thighs.

    Somehow, Babette was more comfortable with him in her imagination. In her fantasy world, where she could do anything she pleased.

    Babette flipped her fanny up.

    She arched her back.

    Pressed her pussy to the bedpost.

    Rocked her haunch.

    Felt the raunch run out of her quim.

    Thinking of him.

    In the state they were in.

    "Do you really love me?" she said to him in her mind. "Like you said?"

    "I meant every word."

    "It's not just so-uh-you know. So you can get my pants down."

    "Of course not, Babette."

    "I hope you don't think I'm rude. But, you know. A girl has got to watch out."

    "I know. A lot of guys are like that. But I'm not like that. I'm different."

    "Mmmmm. Your kisses are different."



    "You didn't tell me."


    "That you love me."

    "Oh, yes, Channing. I thought you knew. Of course I do."

    "Now spread your legs."


    "I beg you to fuck."

    "That is love. Will you be rough?"


    "Do any other stuff?"

    "You know I'm tough."

    "Mmm. Better say please."

    "Please spread your legs."

    "Do you think I'm a tease?"

    "Want me on my knees?"

    "Good idea."

    In Babette's fantasization, Channing Bentley IV found humility before her.

    He sank to one knee. Like a gallant knight or a Prince Charming.

    His honor was disarming.

    He wouldn't take advantage of a maid.

    Not that he wouldn't take her.

    Make her.

    Stroke her.

    Poke her.

    But he would not want to warp her.

    He would fuck her honestly.

    Fuck her straightforwardly.

    Fuck her with honor.

    "I'm honored," she imagined he said.

    Kissed her hand.

    Licked it.

    Fondled her wrist.

    Brought it down.

    Between his legs.

    Babette felt the hard thing between his legs. Like a wild thing.

    Moving, with a life of its own. Scurrying somewhere within itself.

    The thickness, the heft. The balls hobbling beneath the prick.

    Babette could feel it through the material in his pants. And it sure felt real. So real her cunt peeled off another layer of skin as she humped with her rump against her bedpost.

    Where was it?

    His poetry.

    Babette seized up the crinkled paper. Dripping with her cuntcream and Channing's jissom. She tried to read the verse once more.

    But the ink had run.


    Poetry destroyed.

    Well, she'd make more.

    "You want me to touch you more there?" Babette asked him in her mind.

    "Yes. Naked."

    Babette unsnapped his-what? She'd make it a swimsuit he was wearing.

    So in that case, she would just have to untie the string, maybe.

    Naw. Still too complicated.

    He wore a-hell, he wore a fucking towel and they were in the sauna!

    Didn't have to do anything.

    His cock stood straight out in his crotch. The prick leapt at her first touch.

    The towel slid down.

    The cock popped up.

    Babette dropped her palm. Wrapped it about the haft of Channing's honker.

    Drifted her fingers up and down along the length of the erection.

    Rubbed her fingers around the rim right behind the head. Twisted the cock.

    Strangled its neck.

    "Uh," he said.


    "Unh huh."

    "How about this?"


    Babette ran her fingers up and down the curled up paper upon which Channing's poem had been written. Her eyes went blank.

    She was smitten.

    Could actually feel the cock.

    As though it were there.

    Caught in her hair.

    As Babette craned her neck.

    Brought her rubyfruit lips into contact with cock. Hard as a rock.

    Slickered it first.

    Ran her pointed tongue down the prick from the head to the root. Took the shoots of pudhair between her teeth.

    Twirled them gently.

    Yanked out.


    She smelled the oil of his ballocks. Saw the nuts beef up in size.

    She gave the nougats a squeeze.

    Saw his belly stiffen. Muscles all around his haunch tightened as if in fright.


    "It didn't hurt, now. Did it, Channing? I didn't mean to, you know."

    "It's okay."

    Babette tightened her fingers about the twanger again. Shafted her fist up.

    Stretched the prick out.

    Jackhammered down.


    Jerked it up again.

    Then hawked the hog in her yip. Piping it down her throat.

    "Oh. Ah."

    Babette sucked the dick in deeper with each suctioning breath. Simultaneously she stroked the poker with her fingers.

    Then in midst of suck, she roughed it up. Snagged the scrotum with her fingernails. Nabbed the nuts with her thumb.


    "Just for fan."

    "No, Babette. It's great. I can't wait. Jeez. I'm going to come."

    Babette hopped her head on the hog. Crammed it down her throat.

    Bloated her cheeks and blew out.

    The prick popped backward. Till her teeth took hold of it by the head.


    She crackled her teeth on it. Crunched the crispy cockmeat in her chompers.

    "Great, Babette."

    Babette fanned the waving ballsac with her open hand. Hustling his hump.

    Fistfucking his penis.

    Mouthfucking her face.

    She plopped her hand into place. Stirred his balls like crazy.

    The jissom fizzed.


    Mist cloaked her eyes.

    Tears of passion and joy jumped down her face. Eroticizing with the smutch of her saliva. Collected on her jawline.

    Dripped from her chin.



    Between the tits.

    Mixed with the sweat sliming out from her underarms. The pungent mulch creamed over her belly. Angled down and in.

    Joined the ooze from her loins.

    Babette closed the balls together like two shells of a clam.

    She sensed the sperm shaking loose.

    Felt the eruption up the cords and into the root of the dickmeat. Stroking and suckering, she knew the come was coursing toward the head.

    Babette herky-jerked her head.

    Worked her tongue and lips.

    Pressed in upon his asscheek.

    Pulled his nutsac.

    Yanked her head back.


    Took a splat.

    Come snapped against her teeth.

    She parted her mouth wider.

    The come inside hung momentarily in strands from her lips and teeth. Babette breathed deeply and applied her mouth organ.

    The sperm flew right down her throat.

    She began to gloat.

    And the next shot of jizz was the biggest one yet. Pressuring her facecheeks from inside. Filling the spaces between her teeth. Clogging her nose and choking her throat.


    Babette shook her head.

    Hogged more of the cream from his honker. Slid her hands in jacking action.

    Bent her head back. Popped the pecker from her mouth. Dropped her chin.

    One of the last blasts of choadmucus traced a line over her face.

    Squiggling on her cheek.

    Dappling her jabbering jaw.

    Babette reached and took hold of the prick once more. Milked it like-not a cow, silly, she observed to herself.

    She couldn't milk a dick.

    One couldn't milk a bull.

    But the thought gave her a chance to brace herself. To savor the imagined taste.

    So that the last gasp would not be a waste. She held the spurting member close.

    Pumped the final roundelay of come.

    The anticipation of warmth.


    Yeasty ferment.

    And then it came.

    Once more.

    Prick spattering gore.


    That was it.

    Between the tits.

    He bent.

    Kissed her.

    Twanged her titties.

    Gnarled them in his fists.

    Massaged his shot rotgut into her flesh. Jamming the knots of come into the pinkness that surrounded each nipple.

    "The best, Babette."

    "Oh. Channing. That was great."

    As Babette spoke, she pulsed residue of come and sputum from the sides of her mouth.

    She felt the spermjuice seep to the point of her chin and hang.

    The trains of jissom and spittle sparkled in the light like silvery threads.

    The lengths of jissomy twine broke. Swung against her chest.

    Adding more chains of come to the juices that her lover Channing would press into her. Mauling that titflesh.

    Glazing her budding boobs.

    Lubricating them with their mixed juices of love and lust and smutch.

    "More," Babette said to her imagined suitor. "We can do it some more."

    With her mind blazing full of savory dreams, Babette streamed cream on the bedpost where she leaned. She slimed cuntcome from her crotch to her knees. Squeezed her hiney.

    Oozed out some more.

    Slid down the bedpost.

    Off the mattress.

    To the floor.

    Babette opened her eyes. Tossed off the tears with a shake of the head.

    Jumped her eyes to the bedstead.

    She smiled as she realized just how much joyjuice had been within her.

    There on the bedpost was the evidence at hand. Cuntcome from her fantasy fun.

    Running downward from the tapered bulblike finial of the post. That decoration Babette always thought looked like a fish.

    Or the head of a prick.

    Babette smiled. Brought a finger to her chin. She was growing wise.

    Drew her finger down the length of the bedpost. Where she had rutted her hump.

    Fucked the stump.

    Hauled her tail.

    Left a trail like a snail.

    Chapter 2

    Nutlike nippletips nude to the sun, Babette thought she would have a little more fun. She brought her hand up between her knees.

    Slid the flat palm between.


    Gave her cunny a squeeze.

    Strummed her clitbud with her thumb. Began to hum and move her rump.

    Babette snapped open her eyes.

    Then yanked her hand away from between her thighs. Licked the ooze from her fingers.

    Wiped the residue across her tits.

    Snatched the ringing poolside telephone with her mitts. Cupped the receiver to her ear and yip. Sank down on her hips.

    Winced as she heard the voice.

    "Hey, dudesse. Like you know who this is."

    "Uh. Let me guess. You're asking for donations to benefit underfucked sex-crazed youths."

    "Close. Not a bad idea. I'll try it sometime. This is the Rude Warrior."

    "Oh. Hi, Rudy."

    "What's up?"

    "Oh, just lying in the sun."

    "Out by the pool?"

    "Uh, sort of."

    "Bet you're naked."

    "What makes you think that?"

    "Saw your parents at the mall. Figured, now, what would I do if I were home alone? With that nice sundeck and pool."

    "Not everyone's like you, dude."

    "Darleene said you did. She said she and you went skinny dipping all the time when your folks weren't about. Hey! That's bodacious!"

    "Two girls in the nude."

    "Why not? What do you think bodies were made for? To strut and fuck. Sure enough."

    "Now why would you say something like that to a girl. That's frightfully rude."

    "Hey-that's my name."

    "You really shouldn't think you have to live up to it. What gives? Darleene's not here."

    "You think just because it's you two girls that it's not like sex? Babette, grow up."

    "Darleene and I are not lesbians. Fresh."

    "You two ever kissyface?"

    "Shut up."

    "Play tug-the-titties?"

    Babette blushed.

    "You know that's just like guys jerking around in locker rooms," she said.

    Stroking herself again.

    Thinking of fresh clit.

    Tempting cuntlips.

    Boobs crammed into girlish mouths.

    "So you aren't a couple of dykes," Rudolph cackled. "Maybe you really need a dude around to chill you out."

    "As I said. Darleene isn't here now."

    "I have to talk to you. Not Darleene, In fact, just between us-"

    "Gawd! What do you want?"

    "I don't like talking over the phone about-it's important. And secret."

    "So you want to come over. Right? So slay me with another surprise."

    "I can be there in five minutes."

    "Don't kill yourself."

    Babette hustled her hiney.

    Hurried to get back into her bathing suit. She accidentally stabbed her thumb between the cheeks of her rump as she tried to pry the elastic crotch from where she had snagged the rim of her bum.

    There was a tingle in her clit.

    Snarl to her cuntlips.

    Felt good.

    Jabbing your asshole.

    Real good.

    She stabbed her pucker again.

    Felt better.

    Babette arched her back. Brought her kneecaps up to the nippletips of her breastbuds.

    Got a good angle on her ass.

    Brought her thumb up to her bum with a thrash. Trashed her asshole with jackhammer action.

    Twisting inward.

    Increasing the friction.


    Babette her hips.

    The thumbnail nipped.


    She shimmied her haunch.


    Tip of thumb hummed in her asshole.

    "Oh oh oh."

    She stroked her slit with her other hand. Some-thing new.

    A bit of a different way she could fuck herself. Thumb taken tightly in her ass.

    Gash flailed with fingernails.

    Babette began to wail.


    Then came the burps of Rudy's motorcycle coming up the driveway.

    Gravel grating.

    Heavy boots skating, shuffling.

    Mumbles and shakes.

    As Babette brought the top of her swimsuit over the tips of her tits, Rudolph Blastitoff rounded the side of the house. He grinned a bit uncertainly and played with the silver ear stud in the shape of a skull and crossbones he wore inserted into the meat of his left earlobe.

    "Hiya, Rudy."

    "Hey, dudesse."

    "Get undressed."

    "Huh? Sure."

    "I'm really hot now, Rudolph. Maybe we could both cool off."


    Babette watched as Rudolph pulled off his leather motorcycle jacket.

    She noticed he didn't yipe when she called him that-Rudolph. He usually wanted the chicks to use a more swaggering form of moniker. He said he had enough of Rudolph from his parents and teachers.

    One thing for sure, Babette thought. He sure did not need that fakey motorcycle punk look.

    She saw the white-blonde roots of his hair under-lining the dyed-black punkish crest that Babette thought made him resemble a rooster. He stripped the sweat-soaked teeshirt from his torso.

    Babette took in his tits. Brushed his navel with her eyes.

    Took eye-travel down his thighs.

    "So you want to take a swim, Babette? Let's dive in-as soon as I strip down."

    "Not right away. And don't bother to go all the way, kid. No skinny-dipping today."


    She noted the muscular curve of his haunch as he jack-knifed his body to pull off his boots. Then stood straight up, legs apart.

    His physical trappings certainly weren't the problem. He was well-endowed there.

    No, Babette, reflected. Rudolph had no kicks against that hardbod of his.

    Rudolph in the flesh was best. You did not see his problems if you were so diverted.

    They were all in his head.

    "What's that there?" Babette said.

    Rudolph fingered the bulge in the pocket of his discarded leather jacket.

    "Cassette player."



    "Of what?"

    "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. It's a song I wrote."

    "What's it about?"

    "It's-uh-about you, Babette."


    "Thought maybe you could listen to it. Tell me what you think."

    "You wouldn't by any chance want Darleene and me to do it in our band."

    "You could if you want."

    "Well, you know our group is concentrating on original material. Stuff Darleene and I write, mostly. They're all band compositions."

    "So just listen and tell me what you think "


    Rudolph extracted the portable cassette deck and snapped it on. As the tape began to roll, Babette swung her eyes down Rudolph's chest.

    Came to rest on his flat stomach.

    "Cute," she said.


    "Yeah. Bouncy rhythm."

    The chopped guitar chords wrenched Rudolph's song forward, underpinned by a loping bass line. There was a drum part laying down a tight pulse, supplied by a tinny percussion machine.

    "But it's the words, Babette. You should listen to the lyrics. They're important."

    "I can't understand any of them. That you singing by any chance, Rudolph?"

    "Yeah. And all the instruments, too."

    "It's good, Rudolph. I do wish I could hear the words more clearly."

    "I can tell them to you."

    "No good without the music."

    "I'll sing along."

    "I have to get ready for rehearsal now."

    "But you said we could go in. Dive in for a swim. Just for a minute."

    "Last one in sucks guitar picks!"

    Babette broke into a sprint.

    Rudolph lurched behind her, opening the tops of his jeans. He shoved the denim pants down over his ass, stood up in his underpants.

    Babette sliced into the water, barely creating a splash. Her ass bobbed up.

    Then her head.

    She hooked her neck around just in time to see Rudolph tumbling through the air.

    His chest muscles bulging. A ranginess to his hair. A roughness to his limbs.

    As he straightened out his body in flight, through the fly of his underpants the tip of his penis came into sight. By the time Rudolph lanced into the water, Babette had gotten a glimpse of the entire length of his long curved meat.

    Erect cock.

    Thick and neat.

    "No, Rudolph."

    He came up to the surface of the water between her legs. Babette grabbed out to keep from falling over backward.

    Automatically, she squeezed his back.

    Bringing him close in to her chest.


    "Oh, Rudolph."

    "What? You grabbed me."

    "But I didn't mean it that way."

    Babette felt her budding boobs braced into his pectoral muscles.

    The nipples she knew were crinkled.

    But that did not necessarily mean she was sexually aroused.

    At least not for Rudolph.

    In that instant, Babette thought of Channing Bentley. Wished he were here.

    She sure missed him.

    She would kiss him.

    But not just any dude.

    And maybe she would strip too.

    If she really adored a guy the way Babette adored Channing, a girl should feel free to have certain privileges of intimacy.

    Because he would be like a friend to her too.

    And Babette skinny-dipped with Darleene and her other girlfriends.

    So why not with Channing?

    Babette felt the stretch of Rudolph's slick dong tamping her underneath her rump.

    She found herself with legs spread.

    Knees hiked up.

    Thighs crushed around Rudolph's waist.

    Surprise to her.

    "Hey, Babette!"

    He caressed her neck.

    Brought his face into hers.

    Babette herky-jerked her head to the side. Rudolph noshed her neck.

    She did not resist.

    Felt the flame lick up to her ear. Then the tonguetip and the wet breathe inside.

    "Oooooh, Rudolph. Stop it."

    "Why? You're laughing."

    "Cause it tickles."

    Babette broke away from him and ducked underneath the water.

    Rudolph was right upon her.

    Grabbing first her toes.

    Holding her by the ankles.

    Then crawling up her legs.

    Swimming up her backside.

    "Jesus. Like, don't rape me or anything. You know I'm just a cocktease."

    "Yeah. That's what Darleene said."

    "Shit. Fuck you, and Darleene too."

    "Don't worry. Darleene's a prickteaser just like you. That slut-bitch act is just that."

    "That's what I thought."

    Rudolph was calming down a bit, now that he knew Babette was not about to fuck for him. That much Babette could say for Rudolph.

    He read a girl's intentions. Didn't really try to force himself on her.

    Not like others Babette had been up against.

    Babette was more comfortable now. Enjoying swimming around leisurely with Rudolph.

    Relaxed, Babette's thoughts began to float in a certain direction.

    Toward her midsection.

    The first envisioned Channing's lips with a stranglehold on her twat.

    Twisting her clit into a knot.

    Then Channing's face blurred.

    And turned into another head.

    Another head but with no real face.

    One she had seen some other place.

    Stabbing up from the leanness of Rudolph Blastitoffs groin as he had dove into the swimming pool behind Babette.

    The hard head of his cock she had felt peck against her thighs.

    Cockhead wanting to crow.

    Grow in size.

    Inside her thighs.

    Take her up her slit clear to her eyes. Incise her slickly, quickly.


    Big dick hungering.

    Feeding on her flesh.

    That was the good thing about fantasy, Babette thought. She was awash in her twat as she twitched out of the water.

    "Guess I better go now, Babette."

    "Yeah. Sorry, but I got to get dressed."

    "So what did you really think of my tape."

    "I think the music's great. But can't make out any of the words you say are so important."

    "I'll record another version."

    Babette would try to ignore that comment.

    "At any rate, Rudolph. You should work on it yourself. It wouldn't fit in with the Boppettes' sound at all"

    "I didn't know you had a so-called Boppettes' sound. That's kind of limiting-creatively. Know what I mean?"

    "We have to have an identity for the judges to latch onto when we perform at the sate fair."

    "Isn't that selling out?"

    "It's gaining an audience."

    "But if it's false-"

    "What's falser than a bunch of kids getting up on a stage and claiming they're great to begin with?"

    "If your songs aren't what you really feel-"

    "And your song would be what the Boppettes really feel? Give me a frigging break."

    "If it represented what you were about, it doesn't matter who wrote it."

    "Please don't be so annoying. Like it really barfs me out."

    Rudolph looked hurt as he whipped his body out of the water and onto the pool deck.

    "Come on, Rudolph. I'm telling you for your own fucking good. You would go down a lot better with girls if you didn't act so insecure. And conceited at the same time."

    "You sound like you're trying to say you know everything. How everyone should act. That's a big head talking, Babette."

    "Are you following me?"

    "I was just talking to you."

    "And where are we now?"

    "Inside your house."

    "Yeah. And I told you I was going to get dressed now. Did you think I was going to ask you to sing me your jerky song while I was in the shower or something? Ask you to fasten my bra?"

    "Good bye, Babette."

    "Yeah. Drip by anytime."

    "Say hello to Darleene."

    "You want me to tell her you tried to feel me up in the pool? Tried to get me to kiss you? And how you licked my neck?"

    "We were just fooling around."

    "Yeah, right. I was. I don't know about you. Darleene know about your song? I mean, if she's your girlfriend and the song's supposed to be about me- that's a little strange."

    "Uh-I just went with the inspiration."

    "Bullshit. I'll bet that's the same song Darleene said you wrote about her."

    "Oh? She say anything about how she liked it? It wasn't finished then."

    "We were actually talking about something else when she mentioned it in passing."

    "I just had some of the words together then. I changed it all around later. When I was doing the music to it."

    "Gag me with a drumstick."

    "Now it's about you, Babette."

    "You just changed the name."

    "And besides. Darleene isn't exactly going with me steady or anything. I know what she does. And I get around plenty too."

    "There are five girls in the band, Rudolph. How many more Boppettes you got left to hit on now? Or are Darleene and I the first?"

    Rudolph looked at Babette as if she had just slapped his face.

    "I'll be taking off now, Babette."

    "Look, Rude Warrior baby. No hard feelings- okay? I was joking around. I won't tell Darleene about any of this stuff. I kind of liked talking to you. Just don't go telling Darleene that."

    Rudolph was outside, kicking over his motorcycle. As he scattered gravel in the driveway, Babette thought about how light and airy, free hand giggly she had felt for a few minutes outside in the pool.

    Babette stripped out of her swimsuit and turned on the shower. She remembered how good it had felt when she had split herself open.

    Touched herself down there.

    All over.

    Stroking her hair.

    Splitting her slit.

    When she had stabbed her clit.

    Frigged her fanny.

    And then later.

    When Rudolph's cock had touched her there. On the outside skin of her swimsuit.

    Prick, stiff and limber.

    Just separated from her bare juicebulb by nothing more than the stretch material of the bathing suit.

    Babette sighed as the hot water needled into her flesh. She sensed it slosh down her back and into the cleft between her fannycheeks.


    Fantasy was great that way.

    She could do what she wanted.

    With whomever she wanted.

    And it didn't have to be sanctioned. Why, if she had a hankering to go after Rudolph's hog-so long as it was only in her mind-who gave a shit?

    "Are you following me?" she said again, this time in her mind."

    "I was just talking to you," Rudolph said again, in Babette's head.

    Hand hefting her quim, Babette pursued her fantasy fuck.

    "Wait out here, Rudolph. I'm going to take a shower now."

    "I can sing it loud from out here."

    Water steamed over Babette's boobs. Licked along her labia and clitoris.

    "Can't hear you, Rudolph. You'll have sing a lot louder, I think."

    "I'll have to come in."

    "Hey, Rudolph."

    "Hey, it's okay. Look-I don't have a hardon. I just want to sing-"

    Babette's hand hooked under his belly.

    She brought the cock forward and up. Smacked her self between the thighs.


    Gripped his asscheeks within tight fists. Tortured her twatlips.

    Rudolph held the head of his twanger. He winced as he flinched at her opening.

    Then cracked his haunch forward.

    Prickhead ranting on up.


    The thickness fidgeted in her vaginal canal. Darted in and out.

    The prick worked its snout inward.

    Then retreated a ways.

    Charged in again.


    "God, Rudolph"

    "I won't come."

    "It's not that."


    "Aren't you being a little rough?"

    "That's how it feels, Babette. Don't tell me you're a virgin."

    "I won't tell you anything of the sort."

    Babette relaxed her cunt muscles. Accepted his rutting eagerly.

    Her twatlips thirsted for the fission of that elusive joyjuice-his jissom.

    Rudolph played his fingers up and down her back. Babette shivered as he stroked her ass.

    His long musician's fingers fiddled in her cranny. Folded the asscheeks flat apart. Flapping the lobes like a valentine heart.

    "Is it in yet?" one of them said.

    "You bet."

    They both giggled.

    Brought lips together.

    Exchanged spittle.

    Joined at the middle.

    Babette hopped he haunch down the length of his lingam. In her crotch, Babette's fingers simulated his stinger.

    In her mind, her flopping palm was his scrotum slapping as he rutted.

    His nuts nestled in the clench of her hand. She twisted them as he twined his cock inside of her cunt with a grunt.



    "Yeah, more."


    Prick eating up cunt.

    He hot-cocked her with every inch.

    Babette flinched.


    Fell back against the sides of the bathing stall. Mauled her breastbuds.

    Clubbed her clit.

    Almost tasting it in her twat.

    Almost like real-live cock.

    Babette slid down like a zipper.

    She splayed her legs.

    Lay, come-cascading from her, ass up. Holding onto the nozzle of the bathwater spigot.

    Sucking onto its tip.

    Turning the spigot on a bit.

    While frigging her clit.

    Babette tasted the liquid. Licking as it lurched from.the steely appendage.

    The liquid streamed down her neck. Over the curves of her tits.

    Searing her flesh.

    Babette tasted come in her lips. Remembrance of that taste she had gotten from Channing's dried sperm glued to his regal stationery.

    Babette speared her snatch with a batch of fingernails. Took hold of her tail and flailed. Against the tip of the spigot she railed.

    Frictioning herself to oblivion.

    Chapter 3

    Rounded rump pumped up and down once. Then Suzanne Radcliffe began to hump slowly. She wiggled her pyramid-shaped nippletips beneath her silk camisole with flicks of her finger-tips.

    Waggled her hips side to side.

    Top rounds of melonlike fannylobes glowed, peeking above the hovering waistband of the pulsing panties. Highlighting the deeply etched asscleft between.

    "I want you to fuck my ass."


    "I want you to fuck my ass this time, Channing. Did you hear me?"

    "Hang onto it, Suzanne. I'm just getting out the champagne. It's cool enough now."

    Channing Bentley exited from the small pantry next to the walk-in wine cellar. He next walked down the stone-faced hallway and into the cozy grotto that his family called the den.

    "I want you first to fuck my ass. And then piss down my throat."

    "Music loud enough?" Channing said.

    He jacked the thick bottle of champagne.

    Pointed it at the young lady in the center of the room. The one with the long silky hair who was kneeling on the floor.

    A sight to behold. There was Suzanne, in her lingerie and smoking a cigarette.

    Butting away to the music while riding the head of the bearskin rug like a pony.

    "What were you saying, Suzanne dear?"

    "I was just telling you what I wanted you to do to me. Didn't you hear?"

    "I was getting the champagne." His eyes narrowed, Tongue licked out. "Tell me, Suzanne. What is it you want to do?"

    "You weren't listening when I told you," she said, torquing her hips. "You'll just have to guess-or do it!"

    Channing buckled to the bearskin.

    He rolled up to Suzanne's bouncing body and nailed her from underneath.

    He pulled his paw into her panties at the ass-cheeks. Grabbed a hank of twatfur hanging down beneath her humping haunches.


    Channing stretched out his other hand.

    His phalanges trickled up her belly. Advancing from her navel to her ribs.

    Then he danced his digits up.

    Bounced his thumb to her boob.

    "Oooooh. I'm melting," Suzanne said.

    He handled her tits within his grip. Slipped his palms over the tight tips.

    Turned the nipples around like knobs.

    Bobbed his fist on boob.

    Gnawing upward with his teeth as he warped his head up underneath her armpit from behind. Glancing off her wet flesh.

    Tasting tittie in his lips.


    He nipped her nip.

    While playing with her hip.

    Suzanne's fanny rode up and down on Channing's wrist. His fist frayed her slit.

    The moistness freshened his gait.

    "You get naked, Channing."

    Her camisole top rode up above her bounding jugs. Channing's mug munched mounds of thick milk glands, tips of nipple.

    Her panties were slipping down, propelled by Channing's expertise in the matter at hand. Her knees came together.

    The lace trim of her underpants dripped with her snatchwater as Channing brushed them to her ankles. Suzanne raised a limb.

    Dangled her dank undies from her toes.

    Channing rose.

    Took the moist underpants between his teeth at the crotch.

    He whipped his head back.

    Sucking at them.

    Tasting the dabs of brine Suzanne's snatch had left behind.

    "You still have your clothes on, Channing," Suzanne said. "You afraid of me?"

    Suzanne whooshed her top up over her head with a flex of her arms.

    Her knockers rose and dropped. Boobs bounced several times and snapped back into place on her chest. But they didn't rest.

    She rolled Channing back and pressed her tits to his chest. Rolled her thighs into him and gave his mouth a workout with her tongue.

    "Guess you'll have to rape me," Channing said.

    "Or give me head."

    Suzanne groped forward and grabbed the lapels of Channing's smoking gown. She spread the front of the garment apart.

    Saw his prick jump with a start.

    The dick flew into her lips like a dart.

    Dirking her yip.

    Suzanne's mouth flipped up.

    Taking the dicktip into the cavern behind her teeth. Squeezing on the knob.

    Pestering it with her tongue.


    "Had enough, Channing?"


    "Want me to stop?"

    "I beg you to."

    "Ha ha ha!"

    Suzanne suckered cock some more.

    Channing ravaged her jaw. Humping, pumping, bucking like a bronco.

    Kicking cock down her maw.

    Shooting his ass back.

    Letting her stretch out his dick by holding it tightly between her teeth.

    Pressing her tongue up. Just behind the cockhead underneath, at the neck.

    Slathering the prick with her saliva.

    As she slammed her jaw down to his belly. Shaking his nuts with the impact.

    She dragged her head back once more. Lapping all the way.

    Licked across the dicktip sideways.

    Channing reeled back in a daze.

    Suzanne slanted her fingers up his legs.

    Dashed her digits at his nuts.


    Pressed one between thumb and forefinger. Took it between her teeth.


    Her suction brought the nougat wholly within her mouth. She rolled it with her tongue.

    While jacking his stalk.

    Suzanne felt the testicle grow larger in her yip as she mauled it in her maw. Gnawed nutmeat, so soft and yet so hard.

    "We need a drink," Suzanne said.

    Suzanne blew the ballock from between her teeth. She wrenched her head about as Channing moved slightly and bit his asscheek.

    From behind, Suzanne rubbed her split cunt up and down his calves like a dog jacking off on someone's-anyone's-leg.

    Channing shrugged his robe off, twisting his twanger into Suzanne's face.

    He handled the champagne bottle with both delicacy and grace.

    Still rutting Suzanne in the mouth.

    He uncorked the magnum bottle without losing a trace of the frothing wine.

    As Suzanne turned his nutnuggets into a stew.

    Channing then poured out two tulip-shaped glasses of champagne. He brought one to his own mouthlips, and the other one between Suzanne's bent knees to her twatlips.

    He took a shot of the bubbly into his craw. Held the glass to Suzanne's chomping facecheeks. Lifted her chin.

    She yanked her head away from Channing's prick long enough to gargle down some bubbly. Then went back to gnawing stubble.

    Channing scrubbed Suzanne's cuntfur with the other tulip. He scraped some running cuntcome onto the rim of the champagne glass.

    Brought it out. Sloshed the champagne about the sides of the longstemmed vessel.

    "Toast," he said.

    "To what?"

    "Your twat."

    "To mine."

    They both took turns gulping down the mixture of twat juice and champagne.

    When the glass was drained, Channing filled up another round.

    Without a toast, the glasses went down. Then another setup was filled.

    And they rolled together on the rug.

    "You'll fuck me now, Channing. You can't escape me anymore.


    Suzanne's legs opened with a snap.

    Channing's buns blew forth.

    He contracted his assmuscles and sent his pelvis against her twat.

    Suzanne grabbed the head of his dick before it ground into her pussy.

    "Stop. Not yet."

    "Oh. Pretending you're a virgin again," Channing said with a grin.

    "Yes. Easy on the way in."

    "Think you'll bleed?"

    "I hope so. My period's due any minute."

    "Hey-Miss Ex-virgin."

    "You bastard. I wanted it to seem romantic. At least the first time."

    "Couldn't help it. Your virgin cunt was so famished it sucked my cock right on in. Of its very own volition-in some haste, I might had. You think I'm mad?"

    "No, Channing. I think your prick shows exquisite taste in twat."

    Channing throttled on in. He had fucked [so often lately it felt like coming home again.

    Well, the two were connected. Whenever he came back home from school, he fucked Suzanne. They were usually on vacations at the same time.

    "So how was the Middle East," Suzanne said as he chugged her quim.

    "Had a fine time."

    "Who'd you go with."

    "Thought I mentioned it before? Chap from school last yean"

    "Who'd you fuck?"

    "Unfortunately, no one. Everywhere we went the Arabs were showing hardons for little boys and such. And all the women looked as though the had bugs. And floppy jugs on any over seventeen."

    "Is that so young?"

    "Well, you know."

    "Now that you've been graduated from college, you think you're a mature man."

    "No. I think I'm going to law school."

    "Like everyone else."

    "So what? Give me a few more years to swing. Could always go into politics."

    "You said yourself this is a hick state. I think you're right. I know after I finish school I'm not coming back here."

    "Who the fuck knows at this point, really? At any rate, this guy I was with now has a job with the state department. Got diplomatic status through family ties-and when we came back we just loaded his diplomatic pouch with hashish and opium. Blew right through customs. Didn't even give us a look."

    "Christ, Channing. You got any here?"

    He lost the train of conversation. Breaking into a lurid sweat.

    Launching his prick once again.

    Spearing Suzanne to the root.


    He crushed her boobs with his curling fingers as he hung his hog up between her legs. Stabbing upward, he boffed her behind with his balls.

    Dragged the dick out to the head.

    Held it there.

    "Oh. Can't stand it when you stop. Fuck. Fuck-fuck. Fuck!"

    Channing slammed his crane into her quim.

    Driving her back against the taxidermized head of the grizzly bear.

    She felt the hairs of the bearskin rug stipple her hiney. She fucked back blindly.

    Driving her cunt up his staff.

    Suzanne felt him about to blast off.

    She jacked her body.

    Herky-jerked her head.

    Wrenched herself off his sizzling spit.

    Seized a champagne glass. Brought it up just under her slit.

    A chunk of come coughed out.

    Suzanne caught the gob of goo in the glass. Plopped in with a splash.

    Another dash of jissom gashed across the edge of the glass. Spattered into Suzanne's face.


    Suzanne licked it from her chin.

    Lapped it from the wineglass rim.

    As fresh jissom draped the rest of her face in slowly spurting curtains.

    Channing and Suzanne downed the remains of the jissom and champagne. They gargled it, spat it, rubbed it into each other's manes.

    Then went at it again.

    Suzanne hopped about.

    Butt facing up.

    Honking off his twanger with both of her hands. Hurrying her palms hotly.

    As Suzanne sucked the sperm from her teeth, she giggled. Remembering the story Channing had told her earlier.

    "You really sent that little tramp Babette a letter you had jacked off all over?"

    "I said so, didn't I?"

    "Aren't you being too good to her?"

    "I'm like that. Hold still, Suzanne."

    Suzanne continued to move her hiney from side to side. The lips of her pussy moistened the head of Channing's throbbing pecker.

    Her hands ceased jacking its length.

    It was full now.

    With dense blood condensing within. Pumping it up to new immensity.

    "Hold still."

    "Uh uh. I know what I'm doing."

    Channing felt the ridges of the rim around her blowhole fritter his member.

    Her asshole seemed to nibble the head of his wanger. Smooching it like a fish kiss.

    The asshole suddenly came to rest straight front and center on his peckerhead.

    "Spread my ass."

    Channing fobbed the fannycheeks farther apart.

    "You'll want to run your fingers right up."

    "How did you know, Suzanne?"

    "I'm psychic."

    Channing spread his palm out between her pussy-lips. Drenched his fist with her goo, kneaded it in thickly.

    He massaged the lubricating ladyjuice into the fluffy donut of her asshole.


    Then he hooked a finger into the wrinkled crinkle in between the asscheeks.


    The finger squeaked in to the first knuckle. Her legs gave.

    Body buckled.

    Channing drew the digit out.

    Wrapped another around it.

    Corkscrewed in up her butt.

    "Aaaaah. Yes."

    Suzanne flicked her hair like a wet mane.

    Slicked her lips.

    Licked her chin.

    Whipped her tits.

    Climbed on his fist.

    Flagged her clit with her free hand.

    "That was too far, Channing. Even for you. To even send someone like Babette a letter. Let alone with your vital juices enclosed."

    "Sure. Only it wasn't a letter exactly. It was a love poem."

    "Fucker," Suzanne seethed.

    She blubbered hot saliva through her lips. Clenched her teeth.

    Wrenched herself at the waist.

    She hopped off his curled digits. The asshole squealed shut.

    Channing rubbed his prick now in the cranny of her asscheeks.

    He gripped her hips.

    She bucked her buttocks.

    Channing's embrace about her hips brought her up fast. Popped her onto his prong.

    Suzanne's asshole snapped on over the head of Channing's prick. With a jolt, a rut, and a gasp, she was on halfway.

    "Unh unh unh."

    "You really were a virgin this way."

    "Yeah, Channing. First time for everything. And I intend to do everything."

    "Say, Channing. After we rumphump, can you get some of that stuff?"



    "Uh. It's still packed. I guess so. Sure. I only have a little bit with me."

    "No big deal. Just wanted to give it a whirl. As long as your parents aren't in town."

    "Yeah. Well, we'll have most of the rest of the summer then."

    "Got this place to yourself?"

    "Afraid so. Don't know how I'll amuse myself."

    "Way to go."

    He increased his hump.

    Dick delved deeper into her rump.

    Her hiney began to pump.

    Taking cock up her asshole to the stump. Then arching in a twist to the side.

    "I think that's a kick."

    "About Babette?"

    "Yeah. What did she think?"

    "Haven't talked to her since."

    "Why not? You should be able to butter her up real nicely after that stunt."

    "I intend to. When she gets back. She's with her group. They're down at the state fair near the capital this week."

    "Oh. Those Boppettes or whatever the fuck they call themselves. I can see why the old folks think she's trashy. You know. Your parents think that all performing artists are whores."

    "I think that's boring."

    "Then why don't you liven things up?"

    "How so?"

    "Go down to see Babette at the fair. Shell be looser away from home, I'm sure."

    "Probably right. I could get a room somewhere. Are there any halfway discreet private hotels around that overgrown farmtown?"

    "Not that I know of. But my daddy sometimes stays in this little hideaway the governor keeps. He started that when he was still married to my mother. I never said anything to his new wife about it. Figured it served her right."

    "Well, I'll see what I can come up with. Might be a gas."

    "You're really that hot on her?"

    "She's around. And about the best of the local lot of inbred missies and cornfed lassies."

    "Ha ha. You're talking about her as if she were a farmgirl. That she's not."

    "Yeah. I know. Everything all over the country is like the suburbs. Except a few places along the coasts that aren't totally infected. Even those supposed elite resorts in the mountains are full of shopping-mail shit."

    "But you still want to fuck her."

    Channing shrugged his shoulders as he humped Suzanne's ass.

    The asshole oinked open and the twanger sprang in deeper.

    His ballocks whapped the backs of her thighs. Water crept from her eyes.

    "It's so good."

    "So don't be so selfish. Let someone else have a go at it. You mean you don't want to fuck anyone else?"

    "No one around here is as good as you."

    "Didn't you fuck on Patrick Halloran?"

    "A couple times."

    "Who else?"

    "I won't go into that now. Too boring, Channing. Maybe sometime else."

    "Too much. You must know all the little old ladies say you're a slut. How many at least?"

    "In due course. But not too many. Most of the boys around here are afraid of me. They think I'll corrupt them more than they want to be corrupted. You know-I'll snatch their manhood."

    "Maybe so."

    Channing chomped on her back. He dragged his sopping choppers across her shoulders.

    Spread his saliva with his tongue down the side of her neck.

    All the while running his cock up inside her. Grunting it up her bum.

    The pressure in his ballocks increased. Washes of sweat greased from his underarms.

    Dots of perspiration collected across his shoulders and chest.

    In the small of his back.

    Sweat of rut dripped from his balls.

    Swaying moistly as Channing pounded his pecker away up Suzanne's rumphole.

    He frictioned her clit maniacally with his thumb. She chewed with contorted lips. Showering sputum from her jaw.

    The fuckstress wrenched her fanny like a horse. The prick shot off in a burst.

    Suzanne's jabbering asshole hassled with the jumping jissorn that jibbered from his juddering jim-jam. Her asshole stuttered on the fluttering prick-stem. Pucker smooching.

    Rubber asshole rim chewing.

    Asshole chattering away.

    Pulling pulses of cream from Channing's pululating prickspear.

    Like a trickster, he turned on her.

    The penis slid out of her yawning pucker. Her asshole snickered.

    Her wrinkle pouted.

    Cords of come knotted down the backs of Suzanne's thighs.

    Come collected at her knees.

    Her own joyjuice trickled out.

    Muttering cuntlips.

    Stinging clitbud.

    Nipples thick as thumbs.

    Sharp as darts.

    Hard as nails.

    Suzanne stuck her hand over one tit. Seemed to pierce her skin, that tight nip.

    "So, what do you say, Channing? You want to fuck on that little tart Babette? Why don't you make it a little fun?"

    "How do you mean?"

    "I can think of lots of things. No sense in playing her straight."

    "You mean, you think I should try to get her to do something depraved?"

    "Can't think of anything that is."

    "But I might play around with her head just for kicks. I'm afraid I'm not quite like you, Suzanne. At least not yet."

    "We could leave tonight," Suzanne said.


    "That's what I said."

    "You said -'we.'".

    Suzanne nodded.

    "Why the fuck would you want to go down to the state fair. Thought none of the livestock would interest you at all."

    "Really. Some aren't too bad. You know, Babette and the other girls in the band do have something special about them physically, in a fresh, all-American sort of way."

    Suzanne held out her champagne glass.

    Charming fizzed the wine right into her glass. Topped off his own.

    "You're talking about the Boppettes as if you were sizing them up for some raunch action."

    "Hey. I said I would try everything."

    "Do you mean-?"

    "I think part of Babette's problem is that she doesn't trust men. Doesn't let herself get as close as she does with her girlfriends. I'll bet she'd go down with Darleene."

    "Suzanne, you may have something there."

    "Maybe we ought to break in Babette on women. If you ask me, that whole band's a gaggle of closet lesbo dykes-"

    "Or at least they will be when you have your turn at them, Suzanne."

    "Mmm," Suzanne said.

    She brought her glass again between her legs. Bubbled it into her cunny.

    "Listen, Suzanne. Got to take a piss."

    "So? Why leave me?"

    "You have to go too?"

    "Maybe. Sure."

    "Let's go, then."

    "Uh uh. I don't want to."

    Suzanne parted her asscheeks. Smacked open her pussy. Pissed off a few shots of urine into her champagne. Held the glass aloft.

    "Shit, Suzanne. That's heavy."

    "Not after we try it. It'll be fun."

    "I still have to piss."

    "Why not on me?"


    Suzanne grabbed her tits and pressed them up into his striding pecker.

    His balls were squeezed between her boobs.

    He snapped his buttocks forth. Released his sphincter and sighed.


    Then watered down her hide.

    "Yes. So great. So hot. Oooooh. Tickles so good all over my soul, Channing."

    The pizzle lubed the insides of his beefy tube. Scatters of slinky liquid sprayed into the air.

    Showered her face.

    Suzanne closed her eyes at the slopping piss. The urine foamed through her locks.

    The trickle into a deluge grew.

    Storming at the groveling young deb.

    Sparkling spume rainbowed in the air. Reflecting lightbeams steaming in.

    The showerburst separated in the air.

    A thousand droplets hit the young miss.

    The first batch slickened her hair completely. Same here. She ran her fingers through it, styling her coif discreetly.

    Piss tumbled over her flesh.

    Wetting down her thatch.

    Smarting on up into her rawly rimmed rumpmeat. Flooding her fanny.


    Suzanne tittered.

    She let off a batch of her own micturition down the insides of her thighs. It mixed with her cunt-come and sweat.

    With the congealing jissom that dripped from her asshole and out of her bellybutton.

    "Now let's get rutting," Suzanne said as she raised her glass.

    She poured champagne piss over her mouth-cheeks and facelips, Sputtered out a spray as she choked a laugh in Channing's direction.

    She espied his new erection.

    Chapter 4

    Primed prickmeat, ready to roll a load of come, pulsed tautly and painfully, trapped within Rudolph's pants. He thought of Babette's haunch. Gave his hips a launch up.

    He looked about at the musical equipment piled up about him in the back of the van. Gave a shot to his pecker with his hand.

    Rudolph listened to the clicks and clatters as the driver up front slapped another cassette into the tapedeck.

    "How you doing back there, dude?" Patrick Hal-loran said. "Want another beer?"


    "Break one open for me."

    Rudolph's heart skipped.

    He thought of the brassiere cradling the two knockers on the other girl's chest. The blessed breasts he had undressed.

    The tops of those tits that he had seen-and kissed and sprayed with oral mist.

    The tits of the sister of the guy who drove the equipment van.

    Patrick pulled over to the rest stop by the side of the freeway, He liked to drink. And he liked to drive. But one at a time, please.

    Patrick hoisted the chilled can of brew and shot the froth down his gullet, "So, Rudolph. We can chill out here until this can of suds courses through my bloodstream. Gets the alcohol used up."

    "Okay, Patrick. You sure you don't want me to drive? I'm not mashed."

    "I'm not too juiced either, my man. But I wanted a rest, and it's best to let the level of alcohol in your blood drop before you bop."

    "Right. Especially with all this equipment we're carrying. Don't want that bashed."

    "Or ourselves and other motorists either," Patrick said with a flashed grin.

    He wiped more suds from his chin.

    "Thanks for bringing me along," Rudolph said. "I didn't really know if the girls wanted me to show up or not."

    "Really? I know for sure my sister does."

    "I didn't get that impression."

    "Well, Darleene does like to play it cool She thinks she's nobody's fool."

    "She's been coy enough with me."

    Patrick remembered the last time he had caught sight of his sister Darleene running around in the buff. Mighty fine stuff.

    Tough titties and a crinkly little muff.

    "On the other hand, Rudolph. I think we both might be able to shiver our timbers with the rest of the Boppettes."

    "I really don't know them that well."

    "I'm lucky. They practice at our house a lot, and when I come home from school I get to listen to them-more than enough."

    "Yeah," Rudolph said aimlessly, meaninglessly. He thought of Babette's sylphlike form, warm against him in the water. And Darleene's dimpled derriere, and the cloven piece of thatch woven between her thighs. Sights he'd seen but never sampled.

    "I think the music sucks," Patrick mouthed along. "But the dolls are almost good enough for them to pass as a band on looks alone."

    "You think that Tabitha's hot?" Rudolph stuttered through his beerlips.

    Slathers of the brew hopped down his neck. Into his teeshirt.

    Reminded him of Babette's sweat. Darleene's kisses, watrous and deep.

    "Tabitha's virgin." Patrick snorted. "But she's hot to trot. Now, Queenie-she's balled all the folksingers, but now she's into rock and roll. Least, says she has."

    "They tell you that?"

    "I can hear them. When they're rehearsing, they gossip in between numbers. This shit blares out through the sound system."

    "What about Corky?"

    "She's fucked so much her twatlips hurt to the touch. That's why she doesn't dance anymore. She just sits on her tuffet and taps the tom-toms."

    "You have to be joking."

    "I'm joking about it. But it's no joke. They're always talking about fucking and sucking and clothes and makeup."

    "Hey, Patrick. This tape's run out. Want to put on that song I was telling you about?"

    "Your soon-to-be hit, kid?"

    Rudolph's face flushed. He knew Patrick had been playing in musical groups for well over a decade. He had majored in musical composition in college, and his knowledge and experience was overwhelming to Rudolph, who had merely been strumming his electric guitar in the garage for a couple years.

    "Not a bad groove," Patrick mused.

    "Thanks. Coming from you, I know that's a comment I can appreciate."

    "But I can't understand any of the words."

    "Goes like this: Her hips do twitch; comes on looking like a bitch. Her cunt do itch; so she gives her clit the switch-"

    "Good rhythm to the lyric," Patrick said. "But you might want to soften the images a bit."

    "But I want it to be mean and rude."

    "Sure, you can do that. But restraint and relative subtlety can go a long way in making the words bite deeper."

    "Yeah?" Rudolph said, not really understanding. "Like how?"

    "Well, my lyrics might not be the greatest-you're the writer, I'm mainly a music composer. But with those words to your song, you can give it a momentum by not coming out so heavily and obviously. Like: Her hips do hop; comes in doing the bop-or something like that."

    "No swear words?"

    "Yeah. But they can be used positively-not so denigratingly. Like have the word bitch used in an up manner."

    "Hippity-hop; the bitch do bop? Or maybe then you can go: Legs do twitch; dancing, looking righteous bitch."

    "Something like that, Rudolph. We can work on it on the way down. You brought your guitar along, didn't you? Why not get it out now and we can go through it a few times now."

    Rudolph reached for the neck of his guitar. Touched the head of the instrument gently. Stretched out the taut twanging strings between strokes of his pick.

    If this didn't get him in, nothing would.


    Patrick pawed Queenie's pussy. She clawed his back as he lapped her neck.

    Corky slicked up the backside of Patrick's hanging ballocks from behind.

    Rudolph took hold of Tabitha's tits.

    Tugged her jugs.

    Pulled them out like taffy.

    Let go of the nipples.

    Bazooms snapped back onto her ribcage.

    "Oooooh, haven't done this in ages," Queenie said, licking out.

    "Yeah, right," Corky snotted out. "So funny I gag laughing."

    "Hey, doll-laugh?" Tabitha chortled. "Like I thought I'd never start."

    "You're way too butch to laugh, Tabitha," Queenie trumpeted. "Too tight in the twat to grin about the rosie."

    "That dude rolled in you yet, Tabitha?" Corky chattered as she slurped nougats.

    "Hey, the Rude Warrior here is no brute, babes," Tabitha said as Rudolph squeezed her nippleflesh together and thumbed them.

    "He knows," Tabitha purred, "that you don't have to force it all the way with a girl-even if you don't think you're ready-to have a good time, to get good hot sex."


    Rudolph crammed Tabitha's tits into his face, filling his mouthcheeks.

    Gave the nipples a gnash with his beak.

    His cock so hard in his jeans he thought it would break if it weren't released.

    Tabitha brought her knees up about his waist. Her fingernails scraped his back in embrace, flying downward.

    Rudolph glanced over at Patrick. He had his mouth screwed onto one of Queenie's boobs. Hand dipped into her slit.

    Corky sucked all around his dick.

    Rubbed her cunny on his kneecap.

    Jiggling her hips.

    All those three buck naked.

    Loose, limber, and ready enough for the fuck.

    While Rudolph cavorted, partially clothed, with the virginal Tabitha.

    "When is that rehearsal?" Queenie cried out. "We can come back for more after."

    "We've got more than enough time," Tabitha said, breathing in.

    Rudolph snaked his tongue around her nipple. Brought his hands up into the crotch of her cutoff dungarees. Rubbed in once.

    "Unh, Rudolph."

    He frigged through the material.

    "Better stop, Rudolph."

    "Okay," Rudolph said.

    "But I can-I can jerk you off if you want. Bare skin. Right on the cock."

    Rudolph unsnapped the top button of his jeans. Tabitha's fingertips ran up from his nuggets to the penistip.

    Her fingers gripped the latch of the fly.

    Drew the zipper down with jacking action. Flicked her wrist.

    The prick zipped out.

    Stood high on Rudolph's belly.

    Lingering fingers edged the cockhead.

    Pressing the back of the prick about the neck.

    Pulling downward.

    Nailing the nuts.

    Pumping back up.

    "Oh, Tabitha."

    Tabitha squeezed the flesh just in back of the cockhead. The eye opened up.

    A drop of semen winked out.

    Button on the tip of prick.

    Just a speck.

    Glittering jissorn on a stick.

    Just then, Tabitha was seized by herself. She was whipped along out of her placid stream by the current of her rushing blood.

    "Like I don't believe I'm doing this," Tabitha said to no one in particular.

    Her teeth opened.

    Her lips parted.

    Her tongue darted.

    Struck the bubble of jizz on the head of Rudolph's prick with blinding accuracy. Like a lizard latching onto a bit of prey.


    "Rudolph, what did you say?"

    "Hey, dudesses," Queenie yapped. "Take a look at Tabitha. She's sucking cock."

    "First time, honey?" Corky crowed. "Glad we could be along."

    "Now don't try to make it sound so dirty," Tabitha said sucking prick.

    Rudolph closed his eyes.

    Brought his wrist to his brow.

    Glanced down to the hopping head of the woman going down.

    Lapping the length of his dong.

    Nibbling now on scrotum. Then taking it in at the dickhead.

    Rudolph chanced a glance at the rutting three-some. Queenie had Patrick's pole between her tits, playing it with both hands.

    Patrick sucked in the center of Gorky's twat. Her hips straddled his face.

    His hands moved on up her ass.

    Rudolph's own cock was ready to blast.

    But then Tabitha yanked her yip away.

    Spat the twanger from her mouth.

    Tapped the tip away.

    "What's wrong, Tabitha?" Rudolph said. "Any thing the matter?"

    He hoped he hadn't forced her or anything. No, wait-she had offered to jack him.

    And had then gone ahead to suck-off of her own volition. But Rudolph knew that sometimes in their mind the chicks would have it that you led them on. Tricked them.

    Into putting out more than they thought decorous and appropriate.

    Into gloating on cocktease and nutsqueeze.

    So, the dudesse could get off. Then blame the guy for making her.

    "Nothing's wrong, Rudolph."

    "I thought maybe-"

    His cock stung.

    Balls hung low, hankering.

    Quaking for the chance to blast off pure jissom into womanly meat.

    "I think I know what you were thinking," Tabitha said. "But I'm not the sort of bitch who plays those kinds of mind games."

    Rudolph saw her slip the suspenders to her cut-off dungarees all the way off her naked shoulders. She shook the wet teeshirt the rest of the way off from where it had been rolled up underneath her armpits.

    "I want to fuck," Tabitha said simply.

    She unzipped her fly.

    Her hips limned into view as her cut-offs flew down her legs. Thumb dragging her undies along in the same motion.

    Time stood still as her boobs, sweaty hair, hiney hump, and hanging furbag settled. Then a smile quirked her mouthlips.

    Teeth bared.

    Rudolph dove into the snare.


    You are about to become a man, Rudolph shocked himself with the thought. As if a simple act like that could do it all.

    As though the fuck were the key to all the mysteries he could not now fathom.

    His mind swirled into a tornado of discarded thoughts and dreams.

    The reality was so thick before him that his mind wrenched out of place.

    His fantasies dissolved apace, as though they never had been. Whatever fucking and sucking and rutting had meant to him before-it was changed for evermore.

    Sure, his hand would come in handy from time to time. But now Rudolph would have himself a taste of the sublime reality of flesh.

    His naked pecker tamped against the velvet of her thighs.

    Curved cockmeat sizzling.

    Steamed cunt drizzling.

    Their lips met in a drool.

    Wide-open maws minced each other's lips. Chewed up tongue.

    Twirled saliva hung between them as if alive. Slivers of false eyelashes were plastered to the side of Tabitha's face.


    As he ran his hands down from her shoulder. Gripped a tit in passing.

    "Oh, Rudolph. Yes."

    As his palm passed over the rise of her thighs.

    "Fuck," she said.

    As his phalanges rode back up over her hips. Sank into place at her waist.

    Tabitha pumped up.

    The twatfur parted.

    Clitbud started.

    Rudolph rose to the occasion. He hung his hips into the air.

    His dong entwined in her hair.

    Her cuntlips received his tongue with a split grin. They pumped their butts in rut.

    Rudolph ran his fingers up and down Tabitha's ass. She chirrupped on his pecker as he slashed out her twat with the blade of his tongue.

    Meanwhile, Corky was stuck on the end of Patrick's prong. Queenie was looking on, smoking a cigarette and stroking herself.

    "Need some help there, girl?" Patrick said. "Queenie, sure looks that way."

    Queenie tore her hand away from her clit.

    "Man, you can sit on it."

    She slid up behind Patrick's rump.

    She angled her hips underneath him as he rutted Corky side by side. Patrick's twanger bent out of Corky's cunt. Queenie rolled underneath him.

    He hipped backwards.

    Felt her dank cuntfur scrub against his asscheeks and into the crack.

    Queenie shoveled her cunt into his gluteal musculature. Humping, pumping.

    Humping some more.

    "Just hop right back on, Corky."

    Corky slid her fuckfur on over x's dripping cockhead. He limbered it up.

    Daggered into her at an angle.

    Their pubic fur tangled.

    Queenie rutted away at the butting rump. Twisting her clit in her fist.

    By now, Tabitha's twat guzzled juices. Sluices of rutsweat glazed their flanks.

    Hanks of hair stuck together in perspiratory jell. Tongues slicking.

    Nostrils sniffing.

    Tabitha held Rudolph's pecker by the snout.

    Started moving it in and out.

    Touching the engorged lips of her cunt. Arcing ass back and away.

    The next time Rudolph strutted his stuff, his prick got caught in her gluey muff.

    Nib of cockhead stuck between her cuntlips.

    In it slipped.

    Snapped in past the dickhead.

    Clutched at the neck.

    By trembling lips.

    "Is it in far enough, Rudolph?"

    "You mean to count?"

    "Yeah. Cause if I'm still a virgin, maybe we better stop."

    "Ah ha!" Queenie blurted out. "He's got it in her now!"

    "Shut up," Tabitha said coolly. "Don't make a circus out of this. After all, I am losing my maiden hood. If not my maidenhead."

    "Oh?" Rudolph said.

    "Yeah," Tabitha teased. "Popped myself off on a candle a couple of years ago."

    "If there's any of that cherry pie still left, Tabitha. I think we can take care of those leftovers right away."

    Tabitha took hold of Rudolph's twanger. Guided it as it banged her liner.

    "Unh. Tight."

    Rudolph's penis insinuated slowly inward. Skipping by millimeters over the cock collar and shoulders.

    Now the heft of the stinger was within her.



    Tabitha and Rudolph juddered simultaneously.

    Prick ripped through pasty cuntlining.


    Toughly gritting her teeth, Tabitha pressed up with her pelvis.

    The dong leveled off at about the halfway point. Rudolph withdrew about halfway to the head. Worked it from side to side.

    "It's so much bigger," Tabitha seethed. "So much longer, thicker and stronger."

    "You've seen them before, haven't you?"

    "Oh. But not had one inside."

    Tabitha reached forward.

    Cupped her palm on his shoulder.

    Kissed his face.

    Sucked his lips.

    Slackened the muscles between her hips.

    Rudolph lunged abruptly.

    Lanced into her groin.

    Cocktip tapering up and in.


    Buried to the brunt.

    Cock in cunt.

    "Now what are we doing?"

    "Fucking. For sure."

    She felt the cockmeat bore into her. Crunching in farther, deeper, higher.

    Tabitha arched her back.

    Her tits flattened out and tautened.

    Mounds of titmeat mauled by Rudolph's paws. Boobs wrenched in his claws.

    He clenched his jaws.

    As if he expected applause.

    Corky looked over at Tabitha in the midst of her first fuck.

    "Give those two a hand."

    "Fuck that stuff, Rudolph," Queenie gagged out. "Fuck Tabitha up good!"

    The three waggling fucksters-Queenie, Corky, and Patrick-clapped their palms, clicked their fingers, and whistled.

    Watching Rudolph's missile explode inward to the bristle. His emission of jissom fissioned within the flews of her labia.

    Tabitha rocked back in shock.

    Rudolph's head flew back.

    His prick stabbed in deeper.

    Cockmeat jabbed furiously.

    Dick darting in and out.

    In rabid, rapid rut.

    Tabitha's thighs were coated in smutch. Her bellybutton made sucking sounds as their bellies came together.

    Her navel smacked as the warped their haunches apart. Only to begin rut once more.

    Rudolph loosened his loins. Let the ballocks bubble up with toil and trouble.

    "Yes. Now, Rudolph."

    He herky-jerked his jimjam. Played it hooklike within her quim.

    "I want come!"

    He busted her chops."

    "I want your come!"

    The first dollop of prickjuice galloped up his groin. Leapt into the limber stem.

    "Come! Now!"

    Tabitha weaseled her hiney in his hands.

    The juice from his glands pranced toward the open end of his rude tube.

    Strips of jizz loaded into her lake.

    Tabitha's tush twitched.

    Her limbs quaked.

    The prick pressed more come in. Creaming her innards and basting her fur.

    The grime slimed out from the bottom of Tabitha's split. Slickered her underbelly and sniped inside the rim of her punkhole.

    Her head felt boiled in oil Her cuntoils scalded her lubed cuntfolds.

    Rudolph's balls bounced in the mire as he continued his fire.

    The last rounds of Rudolph's ejaculation died down. Tabitha's twat twisted from the tip of the twirling twanger.

    Her pussylips snarled shut.

    Then the labia snarled open.

    A mass of cimtcome and prickoil rolled out. Cunt coughed come once more.

    "Jesus." Tabitha breathed.

    "More where that came from."

    Rudolph indicated his cockstand with a slap of the hand. The lithe meat was on recoil. Beginning to pump up full again.

    "Bravo!" Patrick toasted with a slug of beer. He had his wanger working in Queenie, Corky was stroking and sucking and rubbing her tits and twat into him from behind.

    Patrick escalated his calculated fuckery he brought his fanny down flat.


    Matted Queenie's quim.

    Stretched his hammer out inside her. Withdrew it with increasing slowness.

    Her face creased. Her breath ceased. Her heart hopped. Her twat popped.

    The wave of her own come swept Queenie away like a landslide.

    Her tits shined with moisture.

    Her hide was slippery in sweaty film.

    The fumes of her cunt juices blared throughout the air. Smarted up into the sinuses.

    Cleared her head.

    She stared into Patrick's prong.

    Pricktip pointing out over her stripped-down hardbody in heat.

    Patrick leaned back into Gorky's clutches. He felt Gorky's tits burn his back.

    Gorky's thumb at his bum.

    Her hand jacking his prick.

    Inducing it to croak. Inciting it to come. Aiming it at Queenie's face.

    Queenie's cuntcome streamed down the sluiceways inside of her. Fuckrage caged her snout.

    She snapped out.

    Biting like a mad bitch.

    Corky snapped the head of Patrick's penis. The prickhead shook in her fist.

    She inched her thumb into his asshole. Jabbed up hard. Yanked out.

    Spumes of semen eased into the air, traveling toward Queenie in a slow arc.

    The initial wad hit her in the tits.

    Candied her nippletips.

    Then the next burst slapped her face.

    Tracing a line of jissom across each cheek. And pasting one of her nostrils with glace.

    "Eeeeeh!" Corky said, keeping the sputtering prong trained on Queenie.

    Then Corky twisted around.

    Took the dick in from underneath. She fed on the head of his cock.

    Gobbling down the final droplets of jizz.

    Febrile lips layering the wanger with her own saliva. Dribbles of dickjuice squinking out from the sides of her maw.

    Queenie writhed as she kneaded the buds of jissom between her breasts.

    "Want to take a rest?" Patrick snorted.

    "Let's go to the second round," Corky snotted out. "I haven't had my ration of cock yet."

    "How greedy can you get?" Tabitha mewed, slime sliding from the side of her mouth.

    "We've already started," Tabitha screeched. "You guys better catch up."

    Chapter 5

    Jaws gobbled jizz between Suzanne Radcliffe's lips. She took Channing Bentley's prick deeper into her throat.

    Channing increased the throttle on his 1940s vintage roadster.

    They were flying down the highway with the shiftstick in her hand.

    His cock in her mouth.

    And the top down.

    On both the roadster and the dame.


    Channing jolted Suzanne's jaw with another shot. Hot jissom pulsed down her gullet.

    Suzanne rubbed her naked tits against Channing's kneecaps as she hustled her hiney.

    The veins of his hog stretched down from the neck. Webbing his prickstem in pulsing cords of blue against the ruddiness of his pecker.

    Suzanne sniffed the leather of the seats. Sucked the savor from his meat.

    He peeled off another wad of come.

    Twitched his sphincter.

    Sent another spurt simmering inside her.

    In the automobile's lurch, Suzanne came off of her perch.

    Her ass flew up.

    Maw came crunching down on Channing's sputtering meat.

    The tang of his jissom filled the spaces between her teeth.

    Drools of cockjuice trailed down her throat. Squalls of slime snapped off into her turn-turn. Pelleted her gullet.

    "Yum yum."

    "You want to suck it some more."

    "But first I want to give you a big spermy kiss. Right on your face."

    She leaped up and smooched him on the cheek.

    Dribbling semen from her jaw.

    Her paws played over his bared chest. Flagging nipples, twisting his male tits.

    "We could Hick-I'll bet you, Channing. We could fuck while driving along."


    "Sure we could."

    "Not in this position."

    "You could look over my shoulder."

    "I'd have a better view out the windshield if I were on top. With the seat folded down. You could work the gas pedal with your hands."

    The whir rang in their ears.


    A state police car passed Channing's roadster on the left. The officers were aware of Suzanne's bare back and the hustle of her haunch.

    Channing slowed down.

    Waved toward the police interceptor, motioning to the roadside.

    They jagged off the siren.

    Channing pulled to the curb immediately. With the top of the roadster down, the two of them were fully visible.

    "Stay close to my side," Channing said. "That way they can't see for sure where or what or if your blouse is."

    Suzanne stuffed Channing's cream-coated pecker into his Bermuda shorts.

    One officer remained in their car. Radioed in to vehicle control Channing's license number while the other highway patrolman swung out of the inter-ceptor vehicle.

    "Pardon us," the officer said as he waltzed on up to the fancy roadster.

    He lifted his leg.

    Placed it on the running board.

    "Say, I always wanted to do that, son. How old is this car, anyway.

    "It's maybe a lot older than you are, sir. This baby was put together in 1941. Say, we weren't going too fast-were we, sir?"

    Channing flipped out his driver's license. Passed it over to the policeman.

    "Thanks for the piece of flattery there, son," he said ogling Suzanne, ignoring the driver's license. "No, you wasn't speeding or anything like that. Now drinking-we don't know about that yet-what say we might have to have you take a little breath test?"

    Ghanning bit into his lip.

    "Sure, sir. Anything you want."

    "Mainly," the patrolman continued, "it's this old car that interests us. It's got to be an antique. Worth a lot of bucks, to look at it. Just wondering if someone might be having a little trouble hanging onto it of late."

    "Here's the registration," Channing said.

    The officer nodded toward Suzanne.

    "Howdy, ma'am."

    "Pleased to meet you, officer."

    She noted he noticed her bare back and no trace of material above her waist.

    "Say, officer," Suzanne smiled. "What's your name? Mine's Suzanne. Suzanne Radcliffe?"

    The highway patrolman narrowed his eyes. He began to speak but was interrupted.

    "Hey, Craig," the man inside the patrol car yakked out. "This jalopy we nabbed is registered in the name of judge Bentley-as in the state supreme court. What if it's-"

    "Okay, Mr. Bentley," Craig said, jerking his eyes from Channing's license. "Have a nice day, sir. And you too, ma'am. Miss Radcliffe."

    "We appreciate your checking it out, officer," Channing chatted. "You never can tell, sir. I know you've got a rough beat-all those university kids from State hereabouts-"

    "Just doing my job, Mr. Bentley," Craig grinned back as he remounted the shotgun seat of the pole car. He turned to his partner and leered. "And that hot slice of cunt in the front seat with Mr. Fancy-rich-cocksucker Bentley is some Radcliffe gash. Niece or something of the former governor, most likely."

    "Fuck's sake, Craig. You're getting soft-probably she's his daughter."

    "Must be a bitch to be rich, good buddy. Let's shake a leg outta here."

    Suzanne breathed out slowly as the state police pulled away.

    She slunk into the bulbous leather upholstery and began to lift her blouse up from where it had gathered in a roll wrapped about her waist.

    Channing chortled.

    "Don't need to go to those extremes, Suzanne. Pll just put the top of the roadster up. That way you can keep yours down."

    "Maybe then you could take your pants off. I'll take down mine right now."

    Channing had the top up and they cruised once more down the highway. Suzanne had his shorts down around his knees.

    She was entirely naked.

    Smoked cigarettes.

    Cackled at the people they blew right past. Those on the other side of the smoked windowpanes. Who couldn't see in.

    See in to be seduced by the lanky looks of Suzanne Radcliffe. Slutessa debutante.

    Bareassed cuntessa.

    Wriggling in the naked flesh.

    Her tits peaked like pyramids.

    Her pussy slimed like a river delta.

    "Excited?" Channing said.

    "About this fucking hayseed state fucking fair-no way. But maybe we can work a few kinks into our hijinks."

    Suzanne slithered close to Channing.

    Her clenched claws hammered away frantically at his juddering cock.

    He ran his hand up her fanny.


    Darleene slapped her cigarette onto the side of the motel dresser.

    Dashed an ash to the floor.

    Stuck the butt inn her mouth and sucked it.

    Blew out clouds of smoke from her nose.

    Balanced the burning cig on the corner of the bureau top.

    She ran her hands through her hair.

    Tossed her head from side to side.

    Watched her tits bobble.

    Boobs bounce.

    Nipple shaking.

    She sashayed from the front of the room near the dresser to the rear in between the two beds. Bumping her rump, singing the words to one of the Boppettes' original tunes.

    Darleene whished down, brought the cigarette to her face.


    Dropped the cig onto the edge of the dresser. It fell off into the trashcan.


    Darleene twitched the butt into one of the discarded beercans.

    She lit up another cigarette.

    Scratched under her arms.

    Tugged a tittie.

    Nailed into an itchy nipple.

    Tried to lay the cigarette down so that it wouldn't burn anything, wouldn't roll.

    The fuckers had given Darleene a room that was specified as being no-smoking.

    That didn't actually mean you couldn't smoke. But it meant there weren't any ashtrays.

    "Hold on," Darleene said to the rapping at the door. "Fuckingchrist," she muttered.

    Threw on a terrycloth robe.

    "Who is it?" Darleene said through the door.



    "Suzanne Radcliffe."

    "Well, Patrick isn't here. He's with some of the other band members going over the wiring for the musical equipment and lights."

    "I wanted to talk to you for a minute, Darleene. And Babette-if she's there." Darleene yanked the door open.

    "No. I'm alone." Darleene's robe flew apart.

    Her boobs flashed out in the open space between the spread lapels.

    Pink nipples suddenly turned turgid.

    Nipples in heat.

    "Hi, Suzanne. Come in."

    Suzanne pulled her eyes away from the opening of Darleene's robe, wherein she had glimpsed floaters of tit and strands of twatfur. As Suzanne passed into the room, she brushed against the other girl.

    Darleene caught a whiff of Suzanne's scent. Whatever perfume that was Suzanne exuded, Darleene wanted some.

    "Anything up?"

    "Up, Darleene?"

    Suzanne sat on the unmade bed.

    Propped herself up on her elbows as she leaned back onto a crumpled pillow.

    She crossed her legs at the ankles as she stretched them out.

    The silk of her kimono parted up to the round of her rump. Darleene saw that the legs were bare, the hips naked past where one might anticipate the edges of even a minuscule set of panties to begin.

    "Nothing is in fact up, Darleene. This is a friendly visit. I think it might be to our advantage if we became acquainted."


    Darleene looked around.

    "You, Darleene. You find that strange?"

    "Uh-no. I guess not."

    Darleene wondered why Suzanne was laughing. So faintly Darleene was not sure she actually heard it or was imagining it.

    Suzanne then withdrew a cigarette holder from her purse.

    Screwed a nonfiltered cigarette in at the end. Stabbed it into her jaw.

    "Yeah, Suzanne. At first I thought you were probably looking for my brother."

    "Why, dearest. What could I possibly want with Patrick? Or go ahead and josh me, baby."


    Darleene remembered her brother Patrick's telling her about the times he had fucked and sucked on the Radcliffe girl. It had been one of the summers after high school when they had both been at home during school vacation.

    Patrick had assured his sister that Suzanne was a wildcat. She had taken cock eagerly in mouth, ass, and cunt.

    Suzanne had sucked Patrick's prick, his bal-locks-one testicle at a time as well as both together-and had reamed out his asshole with the twirling tip of her tongue.

    Darleene recalled being eroticized by Patrick's depictions of those fuck sessions. She had gotten hot, run with sweat.

    And the thought of Suzanne lapping, rutting, flicking, and sucking intrigued her no end. A young lady like that must be uninhibited-shameless, some might say.

    Not like Darleene-who was still a virgin. Almost by default. If not intention.

    "I want to discuss the Boppettes, Darleene. And their future."


    Darleene watched smoke unfurl from the tip of Suzanne's cigarette.

    She jumped toward the dresser.

    "Aw, fuck."

    She plucked her cigarette butt from where it had burned the surface.

    "Shit, Suzanne. There aren't any fucking ashtrays in this hogsty. I'll go get a glass from the bathroom- or fish out an empty beercan from the trash would be better."

    Suzanne leaned back and smiled.

    "Why go to that bother?" Suzanne said with lips spread. "You can use me instead."

    Suzanne crooked one knee.

    Her kimono flapped open.

    Uncovered one side of her flank to above her navel. Twatfur shined moistly.

    Suzanne then flicked an ash from the glow of her cigarette tip into her bellybutton.

    Her belly shook like mutton.

    "Ha ha ha," she laughed out.

    "God, Suzanne."

    "That's not all, Darleene."

    Suzanne took a long drag on her cigarette. Burning it to near the butt.

    Then she touched the glowing tip to her navel. Stabbed it in.

    Dragged it smoldering down toward her twat.

    "Fuck my mouth," Darleene slurred.

    "Want to try it?"


    "Open your robe."

    "Like this?"

    "Come here."

    Suzanne tossed the dead cigarette butt to the floor. She snapped another fag into the cylinder of her jeweled cigarette holder.

    Placed it in her mouth.


    "Yeah, Suzanne. I got some matches."

    Suzanne opened her legs, allowing Darleene to come between her knees as she brought the match to the burn. Darleene flamed Suzanne's cig.

    Rubbed her own midsection.

    Could Suzanne tell that Darleene's belly was becoming antsy.

    That Darkened cuntlips were imbibing the dense blood of arousal?

    Her pussmound thickening?

    Twat trickling?

    Suzanne withdrew the cigarette assemblage from her yip.

    Palmed it off to Darleene.

    Held the other girPs wrist.

    Darleene pulled the cigarette toward her twat. Then brought it up.

    Took a suck in her lips.


    Coughed up phlegm.

    "Strong cigarettes, Suzanne."


    "Now what do I do?"

    "You saw me."

    Darleene brought the lit cigarette to the edge of her navel. She pushed her pelvis forward at an angle underneath the ash.

    Suzanne's nostrils flared at the mix of scents. Thick tobacco, burning musk, ladyjuice, rutsweat, and yeasty saliva.

    Darleene tapped off an ash.

    The burnt chars nipped into her bellybutton and danced down her Venus Mount.

    "And then?" Suzanne said.

    Darleene gave a devilish smile.

    Drove the burning cigarette into her flesh.

    Wiped the ash toward her clit.


    "That bloody fucking hurts, Suzanne!"

    Darleene jack-knifed her hide.

    Holding her quim.

    She bounced into Suzanne's chuckling face. Her neck met Suzanne's jaw.

    Darleene fell into Suzanne's lap as Suzanne took a bite into Darleene's flesh.

    Suzanne's tongue licked into Darleene's earcup. Darleene tittered ticklishly.


    Darleene felt her bare fanny on top of Suzanne's tightly curling cunny.

    Unthinkingly, Darleene wiggled her ass.

    Wisps of hair tipped between the lobes of her arse. Tickling her wrinkled blowhole.

    "Tee hee hee," Suzanne said. "Can you feel it in your asshole?"

    "No-I mean yes-your pussy in my ass. But-you pig slut. That fucking hurts-the fucking cigarette in the twat!"

    "Of course it hurts," Suzanne said.

    She cuffed Darleene about the waist. Cuddled her close to her breasts.

    "Then what's the trick?" Darleene ranted.

    "The trick is not to mind that it hurts."

    "Oh, Suzanne. You're too weird."

    Darleene cackled as Suzanne buried her nose between Darleene's neck and collarbone. Both girls groaned in laughter.

    Suzanne found it disarming the way Darleene twitched her rump mvself-consciously. Rubbing the asshole from between the split cheeks right up against Suzanne's engorged clitoris.

    "This is way too much, Suzanne."

    Darleene jibbered as Suzanne took hold of her milk glands with her hands.

    "Eeeeeh," Darleene squealed.

    "You can be sure I'll be careful with these jugs, Darleene. Their masterpieces of the fine art of tit-tery."

    "Art of-tit-did you say-?"

    "Ah ha ha ha."



    Suzanne twirled Darleene's nipples with throbs of her thumbs.

    Darleene slapped Suzanne's hands away.

    Then her eyes opened wide.

    She had to look.

    And she couldn't resist.

    The way Suzanne was sucking her tits.


    Darleene fell back onto the bed, out of Suzanne's lap.

    She clasped her robe together.

    "How about a kiss?"

    "I don't think so, Suzanne."

    "Why not?"

    "You were-serious then."

    "How serious can it be, after all?"

    "Oh, I'don't know."

    "How serious you want to get?"


    "I'm just touching your nipples. You can open your robe."

    "Stop it."

    "Stop kissing your neck? Or stop stroking your breast? Which is it?"


    "Stop stroking both breasts? Ill have to start stroking them first."

    Suzanne straddled Darleene's body below the waist. She pulled apart Darleene's robe. Shimmied down her leg.

    Darleene gasped.


    Suzanne kneeled with one of Darkened thighs between hers.

    With a flip of her hair, Suzanne shrugged her kimono off over her arms.

    Her twat split into a grin aimed at Darleene's face. The crinkling lips dripped.

    "Oh, Suzanne."

    Suzanne took hold of Darleene's head by the hair. She pulled the girl toward her.

    Tore the terrycloth robe down Darleene's back. Darleene's jaws went slack.

    Suzanne flopped Darleene back to the bed.

    She rubbed her body against Darleene. Joined at tongues. Tit to tit.

    Grinding into her hips.

    Legs entwined serpentine.

    "Oh, gawd. Suzanne!"

    "You know what you call this?"

    "It isn't, like-fucking?"

    Suzanne ran her hands along Darleene's ribs as she rutted her hips.

    "A form of fucking. Just among us girls, Darleene. Known as flatfucking."


    "Both girls' bodies flat out together. Cunts splayed out flat. Rubbing clits together if you get lucky. Like this."


    "Also called flattyfucking-or platyfucking, as in platypuss."

    "Is that like cuking? I heard of that."

    "Cuking's more like this."

    Suzanne brought her thigh between Darleene's nattering twatlips.

    She swiveled her hips inward. Stretched out Darleene's vulva.


    Suzanne brought her engorged clit into contact with Darleene's cunny."


    "There, Darleene. I've got it in."


    "As far as it will go. It's a clit-not a cock. But it's hard as a rock."

    "Are you for real, Suzanne?"

    "No. Pmforcuking."

    "Cuke me."


    "Cuke me more."

    Suzanne smeared the bud of her clitoris around inside the fleshy opening of Darleene's pussy. The clit flicked the edges of Darleene's cunt.

    "Fuck me with your clit."

    "I'll fuck you, Darleene. Fuck your cunt with my ciit. Fuck your mouth with my slit. Fuck your ass with my fist."

    "Oh, yes. I want everything."

    Suzanne hooked her rump up.

    She trailed her fingernails around Darleene's boobs. Lubed her belly with fistfuls of jelly from Darleene's downy twat.

    Suzanne brought forth one leg.

    She stuck out her big toe and her tiniest piggie. Then dug her foot into Darleene's dank forest, kicked out.



    "Could have guessed."

    Suzanne pestered Darleene's pussy with her toes. Frigged Darleene's clit with her wet hoof. Snapped a toe right into the twat.

    Cuntjuices ran hot.

    "I want to eat the whole world," Darleene yowled. "Give me piles of pussy."

    Suzanne dipped her chin into Darleene's quim. Licked and dove in.


    Suzanne warped her body about. Until her twat abutted Darleene's drooling mouthlips.

    Darleene began to fuck against Suzanne's jaw. Loaded Suzanne's labia into her maw.

    The curds of come drained into her gullet until she thought she would choke.

    The dam of her orgasm broke.

    Cuntcome festered and brewed.

    Turning her twat to stew.

    Suzanne swiped the donut ring of Darleene's ass-hole with a fingernail.

    She buttered the bun with her own saliva and with mouthfuls of Darleene's pussyjuice.

    Suzanne, without warning, without hesitation braced two fingers up Darleene's rump.


    Suzanne pulled the fingers partway out. Slapped another digit alongside.

    Oiled her claws up Darleene's ass.


    Burning shafts sailed from Darleene's asshole to the stem of her brain.


    Her cuntcome began to rain.

    Chapter 6

    Pussy pumped, impaled on male prick. Mouth mewed, girlish purring upon tightly crinkled male tit. Prime male meat chopped away on mounds of womanflesh and femfruit.

    "Tabitha likes his tits," Queenie jibbered from her dribbling mug.

    "He's got Corky corked." Tabitha tweeted.

    Corky jerked her cunt from Channing's pecker. Waved the wanger in the air.

    Shook it like a bell.

    "Dingaling!" she yelled., "Dinnertime," Tabitha said. "Good thing. I'm ravenous as a cat."

    "I could use some stir-fried meat in my gravy," Queenie croaked, stroking herself.

    "Okay, you fucking bitches," Corky chewed. "Whose next on this thing?"

    "I want a suck!"

    "I want a fuck!"

    "Hold it, girls," Charming laughed.

    "We are!"

    "Listen," Channing said. "I want to get some more wine from the car."

    Queenie reached into the bucket of ice. She pulled out the nearly empty bottle of white wine. Shot the dregs down her gullet.

    Popped the long, cool green-glass length between her boobs.

    Then lowered the bottle.

    Angling it into her pelvis.

    Channing watched Queenie jiggle her cunny with the bottle at full throttle as he walked back toward the parked roadster, His cock hopped in his groin as he noticed Corky and Tabitha playing slaptwat and tug-the-titties in the center of the large blanket spread out under the trees.

    "Can you put on another tape, Channing?" one of the girls yelped.

    Channing flipped through the cassette case, passing by selections by Mozart, Beethoven, Berlioz, and Stravinsky. He had just played the tape he had that he thought sounded like the closest thing to rock-some pulsing compositions by Philip Glass- and wasn't sure how much more classical music the girls in the band could take.

    One thing Channing did not want to do was to chill these Boppette's down.

    "By any chance," Charming asked, "do you have any tapes of the Boppettes?"

    "Sure do," Queenie said, rubbing Gorky's chest. "Check in my bag. The red leather one."

    Channing lanced his hand inside the large leather bag Queenie had brought with her. He extracted several cassettes labeled with smeared ink scrawls.

    He snapped the tape into the cassette deck, pulled another two bottles of white French Burgundy from the cooler, and strolled back toward his guests of the afternoon.

    Tabitha took in the length of Channing's cock as he stood next to her opening one of the wine bottles. Tabitha took hold of his twanger and bent it down into her mouth.

    "Too bad Babette and Darleene couldn't make it this afternoon," Tabitha said as she chewed. "That would have been, like, excellent."

    "They're both freaking virgins, anyway," Corky coughed out from between Queenie's knockers. "There's more cock for us this way."

    "Hey now, doll," Tabitha said, suckering prick. "Let's crash the virgin jokes. Virgins can change. I was one until-fuck!-a few hours ago."

    "Anyway," Queenie said, pushing Gorky's head down lower into her belly. "Babette and Darleene are the lead singers. They really need the extra rehearsal time."

    Channing poured out a dollop of wine over Tabitha's shoulders.

    The crisp liquid ran down her spine. Dripped between her asscleft.


    "Too cold?"

    "I like it!"

    He poured some more.

    The wine cascaded over Tabitha's tits. Chilled out the nippletips.

    Rolled into her twat.

    Tickled her tender arsepucker.

    "I want," Queenie said.

    Her eyes blanked. She squirmed as Corky sue-tioned onto her clitbud.

    Then Queenie pressed her snatch in deeper. Scraping the spread against Gorky's teeth.

    Queenie held on tight through a wave of orgasm. Rolled with the tide.

    "Gimme," Queenie said with cock reflected in her eyes. "I want prickjuice."

    She warped her haunch away from Gorky's choppers. Slinked over the ground.

    Knelt in front of the spread-legged Channing. Tabitha took Channing's cock from her mouth.

    Pointed it at Queenie's pussy and jacked.

    "Shit," Corky said hoarsely. "He's got more than enough meat to go around."

    Channing's cockstand was handled by the three young ladies at once.

    Tabitha continued away at the dicktip. Corky slathered the cockstem.

    And Queenie nibbled away at his ballocks.

    Channing glugged down a good slug of wine. Swallowed with a gargle.

    He then tilted his head back. Slid the bottle between his jaws.

    Filled his maw.

    Drained the liquid into his yip till it filled his gullet. Fed the liquid into his cheeks till his face blew out like a bullfrog's.

    Channing pulsed the pucker of his mouth.

    Wine and saliva spurted forth.

    He sent streams over each of the girls' writhing body. Felt Tabitha cackle on his knob.

    Queenie giggle on his gonads.

    Corky titter on his prickstick.

    "You like it wet, I take it," Channing said. "Better open up another bottle."

    Tabitha seized the bottle from Channing's hands. While Channing uncorked another vintage, Tabitha shot the remains of the other bottle into the yips, between the tits, and into the twats of Corky and Queenie.

    Then the girls turned tail.

    At once, they attacked the standing Channing.

    Queenie met him head-on. Her head was impaled on the pole of his prick.

    Tabitha jumped like a cat.

    With a flying scissors she landed astride Channing's collarbones. She wrapped her legs about his neck. Brought her open twat into his jaws.

    Corky curved about Channing's legs from behind. She handled his rump.

    Slid her palm sideways down the asscrack.

    Nailed his bunghole with her thumb.

    Spread the asscheeks apart with her claws.

    She pursed up her mouthlips. Stabbed her tongue forth.

    Tonguetip shot from pucker to pucker.

    The asshole oinked open.

    Corky smacked in.

    Corked his ass like the sucker of an octopus.


    Queenie's kneeling body lent support to Channing's stance as she chattered away at his penis. Channing was top-heavy with Tabitha's twat wrapped around his face.

    He tried to keep his balance by twirling his tongue at Tabitha's clit and using his upper body strength to shift her weight.

    When Corky jammed her finger into his bum, however, Channing's pelvis shot forth, buckling his legs involuntarily.

    Tabitha folded her tits over the top of Channing's head.

    Queenie jack-knifed her ass backwards.

    Corky crawled up his hiney.

    Channing pivoted on one heel. Tabitha flew from his face, cunt adrip.

    Queenie and Corky were crushed beneath his falling form. Channing crawled about, in search of the dropped winebottle.

    Tabitha played with his penis.

    Queenie slid in underneath him. On her back. Tits and cunny arched upward.

    Corky oiled up the errant wine bottle in her quim. Got gobs of her goo lathered up about the rim. Felt her asshole.

    Stuck it in.

    "Good enough," she mumbled.

    Then buttered the bottle some more. Battered it with her snatchslather.

    Twisted it toward Channing's bottom.

    The bottle punked into Channing's rump.

    His cock jumped.

    The dick juddered out from Tabitha's stroking paws. The nuts began to crackle.

    Queenie shook her tits right under the hanging sac of ballocks.

    Channing clenched his eyes. Felt the rutsweat brace across his back.

    Beads of fuckfury heat encased his forehead. His underarms and pectorals drooled with the oils of fuck and suck.

    His cockmeat jumped to the attack.

    Tabitha hawked it into her maw to catch the first shots in her teeth.

    "If it isn't, like, asking too much of you, Tabitha." Queenie snotted. "Don't be a such a greedy fucking hog."

    She slapped Tabitha's lips away from Channing's spuming wanger. The clots of come chucked onto her tits, icing down her nipples.


    Queenie rubbed the glittering sperm into her bazooms as the mushrooming cock coughed out more come. Tabitha twisted the dong again toward her lips, but Corky cut in.

    The last lurch of semen oiled Gorky's tongue. The taste tempting her hunger.

    Then Corky scrambled with the torquing tongue for the other wads of scum.

    The thick curds that congealed on Channing's ballocks and in his pubes.

    "Shit, girls," Corky groveled. "We need more of this stuff."

    "Coming right up," Channing brayed. "Might need time to reload."

    "Sure," Queenie choked out. "That's what guys always say. That's why I don't really like it when they come."

    "Yeah," Corky belched. "To them, when they shoot off, it's the cream of the cock-but to me, it means it's all over."

    "You want some juice?" Channing snorted. "There's more to life than jissom."

    He spat out a mouthful of wine mixed with spittle. Waved his wanger like a lariat.

    He crouched to his feet and slapped each girl across the face with his loose penis. Channing twinged his nuts.

    Relaxed the sphincter.

    Twinkling sprinkles caressed the air.

    Catching slants of pure sunlight, and dappled shadows through the leaves. Prismatic rays glanced out from the dancing droplets of piss.

    The three Boppettes cavorted like fish.

    "Oooooh, Channing," Queenie gagged. "Like, that really barfs me out."

    Channing aimed right at her face.

    Drilled micturition into her eyes.

    "Shit, you pervo fuck!"

    Queenie squinted.

    The urine stung into her eyes.

    Blipped into her nostrils.

    Fizzle drizzled between her teeth.

    Queenie smiled.

    Allowed the mist to cover her facial features completely. Swooned into a gargling orgasm.

    "Bodacious!" Corky crowed.

    Channing trained his twanger at Gorky's cunt. Trailed piss from her navel to quim.

    "Hee hee hee," Tabitha jibbered. "Try me. I have to pee-pee too."

    Channing winced and brought his flow of pizzle to a halt. He tackled Tabitha and rolled with her on the ground.

    Tabitha kneeled over him. Channing lay on his back. Face to face with Tabitha's crack.

    He loosened his prong once more.

    Shot piss in a drizzle up at Tabitha's rolling underbelly. Glazing her fanny.

    Dotting the asshole about the rim.

    Tabitha's twat trickled tinkle.

    A curtain of gilt piss showered Channing's chest and face. Tabitha bent forward and rubbed her juice through his hair.

    Then she shimmied her ass lower.

    Pissed herself onto the last stipples of urine Channing's pecker popped forth.

    "This is freezeout stuff!" Queenie proclaimed. "Can't wait till I have to go."

    "Omigawd," Corky said slowly. "Our boy's cock. Looks like its getting hard."

    "Yum!" Tabitha said.

    She rubbed her belly and tumbled from Channing's body. Then she half crawled, half staggered toward the roadster.

    "I'll put on another tape," Tabitha said. "Any more wine over here?"

    Tabitha yanked out two more bottles of wine from the cooler. She looked at the tape selection in Channing's cassette case.

    Stuck her tongue out in a puke-out fashion. Then thumbed through the stack Queenie had brought along. Tabitha lurched back toward the fuckfray as the music eructed from the speakers.

    "That's' shit," Queenie oinked.

    "Oh, fuck," Corky sneered. "Tabitha stuck on Rudolph BlastitofPs tape because she lost her cherry to that rude dude."

    "First-fuck syndrome," Queenie moaned. "She'll get over it."

    "Hey, wait a second," Channing said, working up his hardon to fuckworthy density. "That stuff's not bad-for rock music."

    "I think it's got a good fuck-rhythm," Tabitha said with her nose held high.

    "We don't do that kind of tune," Queenie drooled as she slugged more wine.

    Corky chewed out thoughtfully. "It's not that clean-cut crap wre've been doing, babes. You know I always wanted to get a little harder."

    "Maybe you ought to give it a try," Charming said. "Liven up a touch. Change your image."

    "Well, not before we perform tomorrow," Queenie said. "We won't have time to rehearse it."

    "Let's discuss this over a dish of dickmeat, shall we not?" Tabitha suggested.

    "Indeed," Channing said.

    The three Boppettes gave him head.


    As the amplifiers burped alive, Babette and Dar-leene swiveled their hips side to side. In their pinafore aprons over ruffled, petticoated dresses and with their hair done up into pigtails, the two young women resembled postpubescent versions of the sort of all-American asslicking girls that ail the other kids hate.


    Teachers' pets.


    Nerds and smacks.

    "You know," Rudolph said from behind the soundboard. "I always thought those outfits were kind of dorky for the Boppettes."

    "And who the fuck are you to say?" Darleene snapped. "Besides, we're wearing them mainly to impress our clean image on the judges."

    Babette fluffed her ruffled collar. "These clothes are safe."

    "We don't want to get attacked," Darleene said. "You can't even see our nipples through these things. Even when they're erect."

    Patrick blushed slightly. Sometimes the things his sister Darleene came out with were cute and vulgar at the same time.

    It was a kind of game between them they had come up with during their adolescence. Brother would try to catch sister undressed.

    Sister would apply the gross-out and see if she could get brother to gag at her raunchy expressions. During these sessions they would pretend to try to get the other one hot.

    Get those nipples crinkled.

    Twat teeming.

    Get that cock standing up.

    And Patrick's was.


    And how.

    He wrinkled his brow.

    "Darleene," he said. "You and Babette don't have to wear those outfits for this rehearsal. Why don't you get yourselves into something more comfortable. Maybe even experiment with other getups while you're at it."

    "So brother's coming down on us too, Babette," Darleene snorted.

    "Yeah," Babette said. "The other Boppettes have been itching to get us onto something less goodie-goodie. Imagewise, at least."

    "Rudolph," Darleene said. "I don't care, you understand. Fm just, like, not being rude-the way you would be. What do you think?"

    "You know what he thinks," Babette said. "He wants us in whoregirl underwear."

    "Uh uh," Rudolph said. "Spiked hair. Spiked leather from collar to toe. Spike heels."

    "Dreary," Darleene said.

    "Been done a million times," Babette burped. "But then, what hasn't?"

    Hadn't been fucked, Babette shocked herself with the thought. The heat suddenly nailed her in the asshole. Her clit twitched.

    Lining of her cunt itched.

    Wisps of pungent smoke tinged the air. A clacking of high heels echoed in the corridor outside the small rehearsal hall.

    "What's that smell?" Babette said.

    Babette glanced at Rudolph and Patrick. "You two expect anyone?"

    Darleene's eyes, ears, and nostrils flared.

    "I'll bet I know," Darleene beamed, "who is coming down the hallway."

    Darleene jumped toward the opening door.

    "Hiya, Suzanne."

    Suzanne kissed Darleene on both her facecheeks. Darleene pecked Suzanne squarely on her mouth-lips. Babette's heart did a flip.

    Darleene's ass began to move a little too excitedly Her hips ground a couple of times before she calmed down.

    Rudolph dropped his jaw.

    Patrick clenched his yip.

    "Hey, Babette," Suzanne said.

    Then walked up and kissed her face. Babette did not return the embrace.

    Suzanne turned toward the guys and tossed off Say, if it isn't the Rude Warrior himself!"

    "And how are you, Patrick?" Suzanne continued. Long time, no see," without a trace of an edge with no apparent implications.

    "I didn't think you were actually going to show up here, Suzanne," Darleene gushed.

    "I said I wanted to hear your group. I checked with the desk over the phone. They told me the Boppettes had scheduled this time slot."

    "But it's just Darleene and me," Babette yawned. Working on vocals."

    "Yeah," Rudolph shot in. "And on costumes "

    "Suzanne," Darleene said. "What do you think?"

    Suzanne lubed Darleene's and Babette's bodies with her eyes.

    "Those little-girl outfits were okay for when you used to play Saturday afternoons at the country club a couple years ago."

    "We're trying to play clean-cut for the rube judges they have at the fair," Babette declared. "You know, we don't really like these frigging things. I think we look like Little Miss Muffet and Little Bo-Peep."

    Suzanne took a long smoke on her cigarette. She let the cigarette holder dangle from the side of her mouth as she blew out black fumes from her nostrils and split lips.

    "Oh, whatever you do," Suzanne said. "I'd keep the pinafores."

    "With nothing on underneath," Darleene smirked. "Rudolph would like that, for sure."

    Suzanne sucked down more smoke.

    "I might try," Suzanne said coolly, "something like lacy bloomers or tights. They'd cover your bods enough and still be sexy."

    "Yeah," Patrick piped up. "Who says all the judges are old geeks?"

    Chapter 7

    Shoots of pubes sprouted up from the split between Babette's thighs. As the two other girls sighed, Babette wiggled her ass into a pair of pink tie-dyed tights.

    "That's a good match," Suzanne said.

    "You can see the crack of your ass through them, Babette," Darleene said. "I mean, I like it okay, but you might want to put on some shorties over your rump during performance."

    "At least at this hick festival. What do you think about the top?"

    "I think your budding boobs," Suzanne syruped, "are must-sees for any eyes."

    Babette blushed.

    Darleene glared quickly. Her eyes ran in daggers from Suzanne to Babette.

    "No, silly," Babette giggled. "I mean now. With the pinafore on."

    "Covers your tits," Darleene said. "But they can still see there's nothing on you underneath the apron. Might be too much."

    "I have a matching leotard to the tights," Babette mused.

    "Sounds good to me," Suzanne said.

    "Me too," said Darleene.

    "Shit. I think it's in with my shaving stuff," Babette murmured."

    "Shaving-?" Suzanne mouthed.

    "Yeah. Pack them together. For when I take my dance classes. I can see if any of my-" Babette blushed again "-pussy fuzz shows through the crotch of the leotard and trim it."

    "I didn't know you had enough fur on your twat to have those worries," Darleene smirked.

    "Fuck-just fuck you, Darleene."

    "Joke, dolly," Darleene said. "Sorry. Didn't know your twat was such a sore spot."

    Babette turned to Suzanne. "It's just a game we two have. You know-see who can get ahold of the other one's curlies."

    Darleene had taken off her costume and was fiddling among the petticoats to see if she could come up with a more abbreviated version. Her ass stuck up at an angle.

    Twatfur fringed her panty crotch.

    "Gotcha!" Babette screeched.

    Darleene jumped as Babette pulled a hank of her pubes from behind.

    "See?" Babette said to Suzanne. Darleene threw Babette a wink as Babette opened the door to the large closet the women were using as a changing stall.

    "Oh, Babette," Darleene said. "As long as you're going out there anyway. Could you bring me my purse? I left my makeup kit in it."

    "I might be awhile," Babette said. "I was going to pee too. And drink a beer."

    Suzanne screwed another cigarette into her holder. "Why don't you see if Patrick could bring us his sister's purse? He knows which it is."

    Babette bopped down the corridor.

    "Oh, Suzanne. Are you sure about this?"

    "The new costumes? Yes."

    Darleene dropped into Suzanne's lap.

    Suzanne ran her hands over Darleene's nakedness. Down her spine.

    Into the crack of her bottom.

    Along Darkened ribs.

    Clutching at the bazooms.

    Mincing titmeat in her mouth.

    Fingers fiddling between Darleene's hips.

    Knocking knockers.

    Flicking clit.

    "No, Suzanne. I mean, like-are you sure about what you told me to do with my brother."

    "I told you that Patrick was one of the best fucks on the face of the earth. In addition, he was gentle, kind, caring."

    "Like you, Suzanne."

    Darleene licked Suzanne's neck.

    "You've already fucked me, Darleene. What you need now is cock."

    "You're sure nobody would be better than Patrick? I mean-"

    "It's not as though you would be going together or anything like that. It would be more in the manner of siblings sharing their experiences."

    "You're really going to make a bitch out of me, Suzanne. But I love you for it."

    Darleene threw her arms about Suzanne. Their faces pasted mucus on each other.

    Darleene jiggled Suzanne's crotch with flexions of her haunch.

    Suzanne twirled Darleene out of her lap. Cupped Darleene's asscheeks with both hands.

    Darleene leaned over Suzanne's head. She worked her hips in a grinding arc.

    Suzanne's tongue and lips shredded Darleene's pubic thatch.

    Gnashed her clit to redness.

    "Oh, shit," Patrick said.

    He clamped the door back shut.

    "Got my purse?" Darleene sang out.

    Patrick shot his arm through the door.

    He dangled his sister's purse from the tips of his fingers.

    After Darleene snatched the purse, Patrick's fingers lingered for a second.

    Suzanne gripped Patrick's wrist.

    "Come on in," Suzanne said.

    Patrick peered around the edge of the door. There was Darleene, now partially covered by a pinafore. Suzanne sat cross-ankled, smoking lazily, in a body-stocking unzipped from her neck to well past her navel.

    His cock was rock-solid.

    The bubbling rush of his blood brought slight dizziness to his head. His hearing was muddled and his vision iced to a misty white.

    He now couldn't be certain that he had indeed seen the two women making out. Or whatever it was he might have imagined.

    He heard Suzanne address him. Her voice seemed hazy and far away.

    "As I said, Patrick. You and I haven't had the pleasure in some time now."

    "It's nice seeing you again, Suzanne."

    "More than nice seeing you, Patrick. I'd like to see you in action."

    "Suzanne. You know my sister's right here."

    Suzanne saw the twanger pumping up to blimp-ness in Patrick's pants. The wad of balls appeared to be inflating rapidly.

    Suzanne spoke slowly.

    "And I also know that you already told your sister all about our fuck and suck. In marvelously embroidered detail. I know because she told me so when I was telling her about it."


    "It's not as if you're innocent," Darleene said. "You know how you used to always try to get me worked up all the time."

    "And you did it too," Patrick said. "You tried to make me get a hardon for you, Darleene."

    "Precisely," Suzanne drawled.

    Smoke trailed from her yip.

    Rutsweat glistened on her tits.

    Darleene raised the hem of her pinafore.

    Twatfur gleamed.

    Pussylips parted as she curtseyed.

    "I want to fuck."

    "Darleene? You kidding? Me?"

    Patrick jerked his head toward Suzanne.

    "I'll just watch," Suzanne said. "Don't mind me. I won't interrupt."

    "Suzanne," Patrick repeated.

    "It's okay. I like to watch. I love to watch. But if you'd like-I might get close to the action if it would help things along."

    Darleene sat belly-up across Suzanne's lap.

    Patrick came up close.

    Suzanne shot her arm around Patrick's waist. With one hand, she unbuckled his belt.

    Darleene unbuttoned Patrick's waistband.

    Suzanne unzipped his fly.

    As Suzanne yanked Patrick's pants down over his ass in back, Darleene reached inside his underpants. Patrick's ankles went weak.

    His knees creaked apart.

    Suzanne whipped his underpants down around his shins. Jabbed his testicles with her thumb.

    Darleene took Patrick's pecker between her two palms. Brought her clasped palms to the puckered lips on her face.

    Placed prickhead between her teeth.


    As Darleene blew Patrick's prick with her peepers closed, she looked as if she were someone mumbling at prayer.

    But what Darleene held between her palms was a pecker pure and simple, not alms.

    And her prayerful mutterings were tiny nips and chews upon the tip of the prick in her yip.

    "Yeek!" Darleene screeched.

    A dab of Patrick's dingdong dew bubbled up on the tip of his prick.

    Darleene wiped it off with her tongue.


    "There'll be more to come," Suzanne assured.

    Suzanne pressed apart Patrick's asscheeks. Drew a fingernail down the crease in between.

    Jabbed her finger into sight unseen.

    Nicked the rim of Patrick's anus.


    Dirked his pucker with a fingernail.

    As Darleene suckered the entire length of Patrick's prong, Suzanne ran her fingertips about his anal asterisk. The puckered ampersand asshole breathed into an opened ring.

    Suzanne shot her finger within.


    Darleene drew the dick deep within her throat. Clenched cock in her gullet.

    Herky-jerked her head about.

    Hauled hog in her jowls.

    As Suzanne explored Patrick's bowels.

    Suzanne had his pucker yawning. She bored her phalanges into Patrick's opened blowhole.

    Then Suzanne snagged the edge of his asshole with her fingernails.

    She snapped her digits from his bum.


    Cradled her paws about his hiney and cock-and-ballocks rig.

    Darleene drank the sweat from Patrick's scrotum. She tugged his pudhair between her teeth.

    Then gave his prick one more hard suck.

    Suzanne tugged Patrick's testicles repeatedly. Kneaded the muscles of his fanny.

    Patrick's penis flew into the air. Dropped from Darleene's jaw, his penis dropped, bounced up, then bobbed tantalizingly.

    Darleene clenched her knees on either side of Patrick's thighs.

    Arched her back. Brought her triangle of furfur up to the level of his hips.

    "I want fuck!" Darleene growled.

    Suzanne took hold of Patrick's tapered twanger. Gripped it just behind the head.

    The stick snapped into the wriggling thatch. Head hammering the cabbage patch.

    "Omigawd, Suzanne," Darleene crowed. "It's better even than you said."

    Darleene shot her face up.

    Kissed Patrick on the forehead.

    Patrick heaved his loins with reckless abandon. Prick groped within the outer lips of Darleene's labia. Wrenched deeper.

    "Ooh la la," Suzanne said.

    She guided Patrick's dong as it came positioned with the cockhead right in the center of Darleene's clove. His hips sank.


    Prick lanced up.

    "Fuck me!"

    In a razor arc, the blade swerved through Darleene's innards.

    Suzanne pushed Darleene into the oncoming cock. Darleene embraced Patrick's waist with her legs and held on for the fuckrut.

    "All the way in!" Darleene said. "Is it? It feels like it must be."

    "Not at all," Patrick sassed.



    "Halfway at least."

    "About a third."

    "I feel like a skewered bird."

    Suzanne left Darleene stuck on Patrick's prong like a brace of quail on a spit. She swung around behind Patrick's haunch.

    Lapped up between his rutting butt.

    Suzanne knelt and licked in a circular motion. She ate and chewed down his rumpmeat.

    Rubbed her cunt up the backs of his calves. Salved his thighs by dragging her dugs.

    "Fuck me more!"

    Patrick increased the tempo of his thrust.


    Darleene flew out of her skin. She embraced her orgasm as if an old friend.

    "I want come!"

    Patrick pitched forward.

    His penis stuttered out knobs of cloudy prickjuice across Darleene's clit. He shot the cock back into Darleene's split.

    Injecting jissorn into the honey of her cunny. Making broth thick arid runny.

    "Bravo!" Suzanne belched.

    "Thanks, 'Suzanne," Darleene yelped. "You sure helped. Finally I'm fucked."

    Patrick continued to thrust twat after the full load of jizz had fumed from his choad.

    He looked forward to stoking his prod down into the groveling Suzanne. Once he got off another burst into Darleene.

    Patrick closed his eyes.

    Dreaming of cream.

    Suzanne pressed his flexing asscheeks with both of her opened palms.

    Patrick's prick lanced into the cherry pit.

    Stretching the lining of Darleene's vagina. Sending snippets of virgin gore in a dribble from her slimeslit.

    Caking Patrick's cockstand with fresh blood.

    Patrick he would go real fast for the next round. Then bore into Suzanne for the encore. He jerked his prick from Darleene's puss.

    Jacked it off while pointing it at her belly. Then training it on her tits.

    Aiming it at her mouth.

    Suzanne lay back and smoked.


    She loved it.

    The way Patrick made love.

    The black fumes from Suzanne's cigarette hovered. A halo around the rutting couple.

    Darleene bucked.

    Patrick fucked.

    He fucked his sister.

    Til she blistered.

    As she festered.

    He leaned and kissed her.


    As Babette sat on the toilet and sprayed out piss while chugging down a can of beer, she sensed that what was happening so far this day might make it be the day that would change Babette Js world forever. She listened to the spray of her pizzle tinkle against the sides of the bowl.

    Lit up a cigarette.


    Wiped between her twatlips with a handful of harsh tissue papers.

    The new costumes were a move in the right direction for the Boppettes. And Suzanne had indicated she had some money to invest if the band could latch onto some fresh material.

    Babette would like to start on some new songs as soon as possible. But there wouldn't be time enough to write and rehearse a new number before the first round of the state contest-the first prize of which included a contract for a single with a local record producer of no particular renown or connections. Still-it might be a start. And it certainly would bring publicity, recognition.

    Even if only in that hick state.

    Babette dropped the tissue into the water between her legs.

    As she flushed the commode, she wrapped her knuckles about the hub of her clit.

    Gave it a jerk.

    Felt snatchwater initiate ooze.

    "Oh, anybody here?"

    "Babette," Rudolph voice said. "I didn't know anyone else was in here until I heard the flush just then. I'll- "How long have you been in here?"

    "Just this second. I was only going to take a piss and comb my hair."

    "Go ahead."


    I'm in this stall. Won't bother me."

    Rudolph closed up to the urinal hanging on the restroom wall. He opened the tops of his pants and took his pecker out.

    The tip twanged out.

    His erection sprang from his grip.

    The head of his cock pressed into the porcelain surface of the hanging pisspot.

    Babette peeked through the cracks of her stall. Just curious, she told herself.

    She saw his penis stretch out as he handled it. Saw his ballocks hang low.

    Babette quirked a smutchy smile about her lips. Hand in her lap.

    She rubbed cunt.

    Grubbed it.

    Grimed about in her slime.

    Came up with a handful of goo.

    Without pulling her tights up or resuming her pinafore, Babette opened the stall door. Fingered her goo and got some more into her paw.

    "Hey, dude. Need some help?"


    "Looks like you're having trouble pissing. Maybe it's cause of that hardon."

    "Ha ha. Maybe. Babette, I wasn't-"

    "I can help you with that."

    Babette was fuckblinded.

    What was it?

    Her new sense of freedom at the thought of the Boppettes' fanciful future-even though she knew that success as a rock group was only a remote hope? Was it rather evidence of an overall insecurity-Babette's being caught up in a round of her search for a new adult identity?

    There was momentum building in Babette's mind and in her acts. There was certainly a vortex to the situation, and Babette sucked herself in-unthinkingly, unblinkingly.

    She launched her palm toward Rudolph's rigid poker. The glops of her ladycome she held in her fist glazed his pecker on the first jack-stroke.

    Rudolph's shirt was gone and his pants were off. He stood spread-legged in motorcycle boots.

    Babette's mitts palming his tits.

    Rudolph's ballocks flopped between her thighs as he brought his pelvis into her.

    Babette blazed with desire.

    Cuntlips on fire.

    Buds of breasts glowing like coals.

    Asshole yammering.

    Clit hammering.

    She stapled her nipples to his chest.

    Humped his pelvis with a twist.

    Babette sloped her fingers across Rudolph's rump. Pressed him in as he pumped.

    Her hips were hoisted aloft as Rudolph jerked out and up.

    His pecker missed her quim. But it stabbed momentarily into the rim of her asshole.


    Babette's hiney came down as Rudolph drew his haunch back to ready for another rut. Her asscheeks split over the urinal lip.


    She arched her back out of there. Spearing her tail on the tip of Rudolph's twanger.

    His prong snicked the insides of her labia. Cock-head bit into taut pinkness.

    "I was thinking, Rudolph." Babette said in a fake simper. "The Boppettes should do that song you wrote. Title it 'The Boppette Bop.' Can you sing the lyrics to me?"

    The whirlwind gyred about Rudolph's cock-and-ballocks rig. He felt a sluice of come raring up in his nuts, ready to blow.

    Babette convulsed in climax.

    Her limbs curled crablike.

    The rutting couple toppled to the tiled floor Rudolph's come started to roar.

    Babette's mind began to soar.

    Chapter 8

    Babette's shaved pussy arched over the rise of her Venus: Mount in an arrowhead shape. The freshly pruned outline ran from the thin taper at her twatlips to the outward flare near the clit.

    "That's a honey," Darleene said. "Suzanne, what do you say?"

    "Want yours done?" Babette said.

    "No," Suzanne said. "You have your twat clipped, Darleene. I'll just watch."

    "Bahette's fancy content really caught their eye out there onstage this afternoon." Darleene cackled. "Talk about leaving the audience stunned-I mean, like, the mere sight of Babette's come-caked snatch, all wet and slick, gagged them with a hairball of slimed-out twatfur."

    "What the shit?" Babette belched. "So I forgot my tights. I was still wearing the leotard out there- at first. Wasn't I?"

    Babette took a drag from Darleene's burning fag, which Darleene now smoked in one of Suzanne's long cigarette holders.

    "Besides." Babette said. "Musically it went excellently. Considering that was our first public performance of "The Boppette Bop.'"

    She looked over toward Suzanne. Who now lay like a napping cat. Suzanne's eyes were half-closed. Her legs, long and bare, jack-knifed out from the split of her heavily ribbed silk kimono with fur trim at the collar and cuffs.

    Gilt ballerina slippers hung from the toes of Suzanne's tapered feet. Crossed at the ankles, Suzanne's gams dangled.

    "I thought I would croak, Babette." Darleene chirped. "When the crotch to your leotard came unsnapped. Then as you wiggled your rump, it rolled up right past your belly."

    "Flashed some ass, so what?" Babette said. "Accidents will happen."

    Darleene snotted, "But when I nudged you to tell you about it-"

    "You lifted the hem of my pinafore with the head of your fucking guitar, Darleene. That's when they saw my pussy. Not before."

    "But when you attacked me then. Pulled down rny bloomers and flapped my fanny out!"

    "That's cause you were laughing. And I thought that you did it on purpose."

    "Well, it sure caused an uproar," Suzanne yawned. She scratched under her arm.

    Took down more cigarette smoke.

    "Got us the fuck thrown out of the band contest on our naked asses," Babette snorted.

    "That was only after Tabitha started crying," Darleene snickered. "Which was after Corky and Queenie went over and started playing with hen They were only kidding."

    "Chalk one up to good publicity," Suzanne sighed as she stretched.

    One of Suzanne's boobs plopped forth over her fur lapel. She took hold of it.

    Began to tuck the tit back in.

    Then gave it a twist instead.

    Darleene caught the glance of Suzanne's eyes on Babette's twat.

    Babette turned her fanny toward the other two women and waltzed into the bathroom.

    She stepped into the shower to rinse off the shaving cream and errant curlies from where she had just before shaved under her arms arid trimmed about her twat. Babette didn't know-couldn't know, not for sure-but Babette thought that there might be something about Suzanne's presence that made Babette hot.

    And made everybody else juice up too.

    In the reflection offered by the medicine cabinet mirror, Babette smirked out from the shower into the bedroom of the motel room near the state fairgrounds, which the band had rented to party in. Babette saw the somber willingness of Darleene's eroticized eyes. Recognized Suzanne's look of openly depraved self-absorption. Drawing Darleene into close, whispered embrace.

    Two cigarette holders wrote haze ciphers into the air around their joined heads.

    What was Suzanne telling Darleene?

    Must be some outrageous gossip.

    Suzanne seemed to tart up every situation.

    As though she were a sex-bitch witch.

    Well, Babette reflected. Suzanne Radcliffe went to great pains to act the part.

    "You know, you all," Babette barked from the midst of the shower, "I suspected that about Chan-ning Bentley anyhow."

    "What, Babette?"

    "About how Channing jacked off all over that love poem he sent me as a joke. He didn't love me. Just wanted another bottle to corkscrew like another vintage to add to his wine collection."

    "Erection collection," Suzanne corrected. "That's what he tells me he calls it. And he pretty much copied that poem from somewhere. It was written by someone or other-one of those half-queer English romantic motherfuckers."

    "Shit," Babette said. "Fm sure glad I went ahead and balled Rudolph."

    "You fucking bitch," Darleene slashed. "You knew I wanted him."

    "Meanwhile, Darleene, you got busted on your very own Patrick," Babette gargled. "Don't worry. You'll be able to get your licks in on the old Rude Warrior anyhow, I'm sure."

    "Did you bleed any?"

    "Not very much at all. You know I'd scraped myself out pretty well before-fingers, candles, bedposts, umbrella handles."

    "Who's next, Babette?" Suzanne slurped. "Now that your hungering cuntlips have been unleashed." she sighed wearily, "can anyone be safe?"

    "Oh, I'd fuck Channing. For goofball kicks. You say he likes tinkle tricks? But at this point I can set out to fuck-"

    As Babette droned on, Suzanne licked whispers into Darleene's earcup.

    "You want me to what, Suzanne?" Darleene flushed. "You called it what?"

    "I said I wanted to watch you debauch her."



    "As in fuck."


    "You want me to debauch Babette."


    "In front of you."

    "So I can watch."

    "How am I supposed to go about that?"

    "How about when she shaves your twat?"

    "Why not?"

    Suzanne licked up Darleene's neck. Dipped her tongue down between Darleene's jugs.

    Dug into dugs with her teeth.

    "You are so special, Suzanne."

    Suzanne went into her purse. She stabbed two cigarettes into the cigarette holders at hand. Took out two tiny cannisters.

    "What's that?" Darleene asked.

    Suzanne tamped some resinous crumbs into the end of one cigarette. She thumbed a bit of tarry ooze likewise onto the tip of the other fag.

    "This one here is hashish. The other is a paste of opium. Thought we'd try some."

    "It'd be a gas."

    "Ready, Darleene?"

    Babette came out of the bathroom wrapped in two towels. She carried a tiny pink razor, a set of clippers, and a jar of shaving cream.

    "Here goes," Darleene said.

    She spread her toes. Propped her ass up on a pillow. Draped her legs apart.

    Babette twitched her head in a start.

    Darleene's twatlips were braced apart. Full lips, reddened with arousal.

    Babette bent in between Darleene's knees. She applied lather around the edges of Darleene's pubic thatch.

    "Heart-shaped okay, Darleene?"


    "How sweet," Suzanne murmured.

    Suzanne lit up one of her loaded cigarettes. Sue-kered smoke. Passed it to Darleene. Lit up the other. Passed it to Babette.

    Darleene squirmed as Babette leaned into her pelvic girdle.

    Babette shaped the outer perimeter of Darleene's dank quim into the shape she desired. Darleene purred as the tiny razor shaved near her clit.


    Babette wiped Darleene's cuntlet with a hot, wet towel. Darleene arched her cunt out.

    Babette washed her between the twatlips.

    Around under the asscheeks.

    Babette took hold of the clippers for the final trim. Snipped the curlies sticking out here and there in Darleene's hedgerows.


    Without prior commitment, Babette found herself pressing the tip of the scissors to Darleene's clit. Not stabbing, not jabbing, not lancing, not piercing. Just jiggling the jam.


    "Shit, Darleene."

    "Don't stop."

    "You're dripping."

    "What do you want?"

    Babette took a hit from one of the cigarettes. Passed it to Darleene. Then Babette sucked off the other cig from the holder held aloft in Suzanne's slinking fingers.

    "I want," Babette finally answered blithely, "to suck down twat."

    Babette curled her mouthlips back.

    Her teeth were bared to the backs of her jaws. Drool spilled over the dam of her dentition. Leached from between her split lips.

    Tongue torqued through the air.

    Leapt like a lizard.

    Skittered across Darleene's gash.

    Slashed across foaming folds of twat.

    Babette groveled ravenously in cunt. Drinking down gallons of girlgoo.

    She swallowed slitslime.

    Pussjuice sluiced down her gullet. Snatchwater ran pure as a stream.

    Cuntoils lubed her probing mouth organs. Babette foraged through the clover.

    Snicked clit in a flash of incisors.

    Lashed labia with side action.

    Minced Darleene to mindlessness with the friction of her chin.

    "Omigawd, Suzanne," Darleene droned. "You were right about this too."

    Darleene flailed her limbs maniacally. Spasms gripped her stuttering cuntlips.

    Her asshole convulsed.

    Her tits rumbled and shook.

    Clit contorted, warped by her frigging fingertips. Electric blips flew from Darleene's clitoris to the back of her brain.

    Gulps of her cuntcome coughed out from her quim. Sizzling her underbelly to the arserim.

    Darleene pitched into oblivion.

    Spasmed into the chasm of orgasm.

    Darleene's tits loaded into her mouth, Babette chewed nipple.

    Noshed mouthfuls of naked bazoom.

    Tugged the titty out by the nippletips. Stretched the knocker like taffy.

    Released the grip of her jaw on Darleene's nipple. Snapped the jug back onto her chest.

    "I feel so refreshed," Darleene gushed. "Now I really want to fuck."

    "What else should I do?" Babette mused. "I need another drag off that fag."

    "I'll show you something you'll like, Babette." Suzanne said. "One of my longtime favorites-just among us girls."

    Suzanne suckered onto Babette's fannycheek- with her mouthcheeks:-like a leech.

    She slicked Babette's cunt underneath her belly. Juicing it like a peach.

    Suzanne bared her fangs for ivory friction.

    Clipped clit with elegant diction.

    Then Suzanne spat out a mouthful of Babette's ladyjuice. Blowing the goo through her pursed lips right into Babette's puckered asshole.


    Suzanne slimed twin twirling thumbs up the center wrinkle of Babette's blowhole. Babette rose a foot off the mattress.


    Babette landed on top of Darleene.


    Flatted-out twat smacking smirking quirn. Two steamy streams of cuntcream coagulating.

    Babette ran her extended fingers down Darleene's sides. Scratched the moist hide with glides of her sharp fingernails.

    Clit struggled against thigh. Fur frictioned nugget of clitoris.

    The two girls made raunch in their haunches as Suzanne lay back watching. She was-had been-bored. But comfortably so. She even toyed with the notion of joining the women in platypuss fuck. Then thought of the others who had been invited to drop by. Not especially excited, Suzanne almost glanced about for a clock.

    But thought first.

    She gave up her search instantly, smugly.

    It didn't matter what time it was.

    What the other Boppettes were out doing.

    Or where the boys were.

    Whatever time the young dudes showed up- well, that was when they would get there.

    And they got there.

    "It's unlocked," Suzanne trumpeted in response to the rapping at the door.

    Channing thrust his chest into the room. He had a cache of nearly frozen wine bottles in a cooler with him. Rudolph and Patrick swaggered into view, thumbs plugged in behind their belt buckles Babette pulled her face from Darleene's nipple with a pop.

    "Hi, dudes," she squealed.

    She ran her hands through Darleene's twat to tease the onlooking guys. Bent into snatch and sucked loudly, gargling ladygoo in her gullet.

    Channing busted open a bottle of champagne. He passed it to Babette.

    "I say this rather sadly, Babette," he said. "I had cherished the notion that you might have wanted poor Charming to be the first to fuck upon your prim little body. Ah, such are our dreams. Such is life. But it now appears that another rascal has-perhaps others have as well?-beaten me to your tail. However, Babette. Allow me to congratulate you upon the occasion of the recent loss of your virginity."

    "That was yesterday," Babette gurgled. "Wait. Or was that coupla hours ago?"

    Babette shot a slug of bubbly down her throat, spilled it over her budding boobs.

    Rubbed foam into her twat.

    "There's still some cherry left," Babette cooed. "For you, Channing."

    Babette sloshed some champagne into Darleene's cunny. Babette drank from the frothing cuntlips till her jaws dripped.

    Quaffed down quim.

    Barfed up foam.

    Suckered it right back down.

    "Such a dear young lady, you are, Babette," Channing smoothed over his lips. "Babette's saved her poor Channing a piece of her pie. That's more than you did, Suzanne."

    Suzanne leered inwardly. Through her machinations she had succeeded in depriving Channing of feasting upon the maidenhood of Babette. If a virginal opening remained in Babette's body, it was with respect to the male members-Babette had been dyked-over thoroughly in all parts of her plush flesh.

    Channing looked into Babette's eyes. He watched them as she spoke-to gauge the depths of her lies, not their existence.

    "I saved it just for you."

    "You speak truly."

    "Course I do, Channing. You think that just cause I hang around with your corrupt moll Suzanne that I'm as treacherous as she is?"

    "Not quite yet, I guess."

    Babette again ducked into dankness. Rimmed raw quim with the brush of her tongue.

    Channing uncorked several more bottles of champagne, passing them out randomly. He stripped off his leather driving jacket.

    Took the rest of his clothes off except for his boots and leather driving gloves. Stuck himself back into his jacket.

    Rudolph and Patrick were undressed.

    Patrick peeled his pecker into Suzanne's armpits. She lay langorously, coming copiously though she was still as a cadaver.

    Rudolph gripped Darleene by the hips.

    He opened his yip to the feeding Babette.

    "Mind if I cut in?"

    "Suit yourself, Oh Rude Warrior. I do believe this dance is already spoken for at any rate."

    As Rudolph pitched his prick into the centerfolds of Darleene's jabbering cuntlips, Babette lurched toward Charming. She jammed her fists into his partially unzipped jacket.

    Crushed his male tits.

    Bit them with fiendish elan.


    She dropped her hands and handled his fanny. Fondling the globes.

    Their tongues probed the recesses of each other's maws.

    They separated from their kiss. A strand of spittle strung out between them in a momentary bridge of slime.

    The spit snapped. And they both clapped their hands together like little children.

    Channing then tore into Babette's neck with his long tongue. Lapped about her ears.

    Blasting Babette's earlobes with wet and searing breaths. Breathing slowly, deeply.


    Channing's fingers sizzled on Babette's nipples. They stung like burning embers.

    Charred fingertips tapped gingerly.

    Fingering budlike tips of boob.

    They were hard as bullets.

    Sharp as nails.

    Taut and dart-tipped, the nipples needled Gunning's knuckles.

    He buckled.


    Took tit in down to his tonsils.

    He played ring-around-the-rosie with one of Babette's aureoles. Meanwhile, both his hands explored her lower holes.

    "Which one is it, Babette?"

    "Can't you tell?"

    "I can guess."


    "Which is the virgin orifice?"

    He tapped into her twat.

    "For sure. Not this ragged aperture."

    Tamped his thumb on her bum.

    "Perhaps this wrinkle."

    Babette giggled.


    Babette's rosebud rumphole flowered open. Her relaxing sphincter sucked his thumb.

    Popped the asshole on over the first knuckle. Slid on down toward the palm.

    "Now the big one," Babette seethed.


    Channing drove his nose between the cheeks of Babette's ass.

    His tongue slicked out and around. Reamed the rim of the blubbering pucker.


    Tongue twined deep inside.

    Babette reeled in fuckblind shock.

    In an instant, Channing's cockstand stood shoulder-deep up her ass.


    Another rut brought Channing's creeper in deeper. A further fuckthrust sank curved cockmeat in clean to the ballocks.


    Babette brought the back of her wrist to her forehead. Closed her eyes into clenched slits. Chewed her lips wordlessly.

    Flailed her clit relentlessly.

    Channing cocked his hips back. Jutted the prick once more up her haunch.

    Slanted cockthrusts jiggled Babette's hiney like a bowlful of jelly. Babette clutched her clit and held on for the joyride.

    There was scratching at the motel room door. Scatter of spike heel and muted shrieks.

    Tabitha's voice puled, uLike this must be the place. Hear the smutchy sounds?"

    Queenie pushed open the door.

    "Anybody ready for rauiich?"

    "Like this scene really pukes me out," Gorky croaked. "I'm renewing my vows of chastity."

    Queenie slapped Corky across the face. As Corky jibbered, Queenie stripped "her down and pushed her in between Rudolph's and Darleene's bodies afuck.

    Rudolph's pecker ran right up her.

    "Unh," Corky choked.

    She gave Queenie the stroke.

    Patrick prodded Babette's pussy with his pullulating penis as Channing continued to dig his gristle up Babette's arse. Rudolph suddenly slid his bangles in over Babette's face.

    Plopped his balls into place on her chin.

    Plugged his dong into her head.

    Fucked her face.


    Babette now sucked cock. Had her ass stuck on long curved dong.

    Was skewered up front through her cunt by wide-ranging pecker.

    The three joysticks blared in quick synchronies ty. Initially Rudolph sprayed his sperrnjuice down Babette's gullet.

    As the last strands of Rudolph's semen snapped off into Babette's tummy, Channing crammed come up Babette's well-buttered buns.

    Knots of jizz twitched from her hiney.

    The prick squirted from her rectum at the snarl of her sphincter.

    Cock sniped off a few final shots. Into the crack and over the cheeks of her fanny.

    Patrick raged like a mad bull.

    His ballocks thumped against Babette's thighs as he pumped-like twin demolition balls against a falling building. Patrick horned into Babette's cunny with a groan.

    Babette had taken jizzjuice down the throat. Turned her ass into a moat filled past the rim with molten come.

    And now.

    Prick jumped within. Scuzz shot off sequentially within her quim.

    Fuckblind still, Babette scratched out through the air with her fingernails. She screeched, wailed. Found flashes of flesh at their best.

    How many were there now for the fuck? Babette tried to count. The Boppettes, Suzanne and Chan-ning. Rudolph and Patrick.

    How many cocks?

    How many cunnies?

    How many mouths?


    Babette's vision cleared. Her clit trembled in a daze. She licked out through her lips.

    Stroked open her slit.

    "Who wants a fuck?" Babette said, jerking her head from haunch to haunch.

    "Who wants a suck?"

  • Chapter 1
  • Chapter 2
  • Chapter 3
  • Chapter 4
  • Chapter 5
  • Chapter 6
  • Chapter 7
  • Chapter 8
  • создание сайтов