DISCLAIMER:
This is a "copyrighted" "creative endeavor" and the "intellectual" property of the "author". Any reposting or reproduction is strictly prohibited without the express written permission of the author, or the persona, damn his thieving hide. (C)2003, 2005 HLudens.
The contents of this story are figments of the imagination belonging to the persona, "hludens" (insofar as a persona may be said to have an "imagination" - much less to "own" or "create" "intellectual property" emanating therefrom), and as such are, in toto, fictitious, factitious (ipso facto) & any similarity to persons living or dead or residing amongst the undead (and pleading for more cop brains, perish the thought) is purely coincidental.
This story contains possibly exaggerated depictions and/or descriptions of sex, between or among persons 18 and over, including possibly perfunctory, exotic, mechanical, perhaps illegal and boring sex between or among family members utilizing the "missionary position", but not inclusive thereof, nor exclusive and may suggest things you might not want to discuss with - or try out on - your sister or mother. Or father or brother, for that matter. This "story" is intended for adults, namely big people over the age of 18 with a valid state ID card only, alcohol and drug free. Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this material. May cause dizziness or shortness of breath. If you are offended by the prospect of reading material of this nature, are under the legal age in your location to read this material, or it is illegal for you to possess this, or if it does not meet community standards in your neighborhood, or if you think the TIA will gitchoo, go no further.
Sir, or madame as the case may be, step away from the computer. Hie thee to a nunnery.
The author does not solicit effusive praise or rabid condemnation & may or may not be contacted at the address in my profile.
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Jock's Dark Vision
In the destructive element immerse. --Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim
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--Warm up--
[fuckfuckfuck--Now, what the fuck difference does it make, I've got to try to find a way to get this done--get on with the story, I'm, I'm, I'm...........blocked? Why? What does that mean, I mean I have the characters, all I have to do is move them along, get them into clinches with each other, oral, genital, anal, whatever -- basic themes, variations on basic themes.]
[okay-okay :: Characters, Jock, his sister Kimmi; Jock's GF Meggan. Jock's already fucked her mother, and his GF's fucked her father, that was a trip, there-there, both couples fucking each other, lots of eroticism, now, now, - got to get Jock into the sack with his mom, bona fide penetration, Meggan with his dad - no, that's not fair to....Kimmi, Jock's sister, who claims droit d' sib, ie, droit d'daughter.]
Kimmi, Kimmi, Kimmi.
[papa oom mow mow, papa oom mau mau -a la Rivingtons......And what about Todd and his sister? - shouldn't they get to fuck their parents too? Okay, it isn't fair, but then life isn't fair and neither is literary erotica, that is, ummm, sexually explicit, masturbatory erotic writing. Call a s0pade a spade: Porno. Both hands on the keyboard, here, steady, steady.....]
[Deal with Jock. I hate this, deal with it, deal with the unfairness of life, or the- the - unfairness, for, after all, all's fair in love and war and anything can happen in erotica, in fict- Jock's got to get home. Okay-okay, he's home.]
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[He's getting up in the morning, Jocko. And-and there's Kimmi! Giving him a blowjob, she has her lips wrapped around his cock, and slurping like - no, wait, it's Nichole Kidm-. Morphing into --what the fu-- it's his mom. Wait it's a dream - he's dreaming, lips on his pecker -no can't call it a pecker, guidelines call for, what? Willy? No, no, no! jesusHchristOnaCrutch, his cock, his monstrous rod, truly big in fact, -no, Rabelaisian, i.e. Gargantuan -long, wide, gristley, gibsonesquely implanted with a neuromantic chip running at a redhot . . . petering out here ... -pecker, aw jeez.]
-Segue- [no relation to Segway (tm)]
Jock shuts his eyes and starts over.
Meggan's mom, Lez. Now there was a piece of ass. No no, can't demean the act of fucking Meggan's mom, that was prime stuff. "Prime stuff" - who'm I talking to here? On the other hand, call a digging implement a digging implement, Jock thinks. I'm not in with love her. Well, maybe a little bit in love with her, but you know, just -
[fuckfuckfuck]
"Sweet." Ahh, yes. Sweet indeed.
Jock remembers her soft eyes, looking up at him, imploring, as he slid his cock slowly into her hot channel. Cunt. Yes, hot cunt. Okay, vagina. Orifices: can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Well okaaaaayyyy, it was hot and wet, not sloppy wet, you understand, but slick and he plunged in to the....the... hilt - thinking, dagger here? No-sword, Saracen blade. Kukri, the blade of the Gurkhas: It has been said that the notch (kaura) in the blade near the hilt arouses much interest. Although it may certainly act as a check to excessive blood on the hilt, and be used to catch and neutralise an enemy blade, it is essentially a Hindu religious and phallic symbol. Phallic, hilt, yes, as I was saying: Whole 9 yards, that's an apt expression, whole nine yards, and yet, and yet--in Jock's penile case, certainly an exaggeration, whole 9 inches would also be an exaggeration, not by much, an inch or two, perhaps more or less, who's counting?
She moans, Lez, not counting inches, moans sweetly, her breath warm and humid on his face, she moans, her breath in short huffs as he thrusts, banging her. "Unh, unh? unh? unh?." The hesitant upward almost interrogatory inflections, unh? unh? unh? She's getting there. Jock likes that, likes the sound of it, the soft sweet sound of lovemaking, sex, humping, in-and-out, the twobacked beast, as the Bard called it, but I digress.
Banging her? Well, yes. He's banging her, pumping, doing the old in and out, Jock is on Meggan's mom like white on rice, syncopated thrusting, as Meggan and Meggan's dad, Jerzy, look on, enchanted, as Lez wraps her arms and legs around Jock and hugs him close and Jock thrusts methodically in and out, with the patented Jockfucker variations, varying speed, plunge motion, depth, wiggle, allowing for wind and gravity and the butterfly in China chaotically fluttering. [been there done that, got the t-shirt shitshitshit]
Meggan's mom now making tiny, almost undetectable subvocalizations as her pleasure moves from the back of her skull, down through her spine (goosebumps galore), down through her legs, spreading out through her torso, her heart, her torso, the center of her being, then exploding again in her skull as she climaxes and damn near bucks Jock off, making him lose his place there for a moment. (Hold on there, buckaroo!) None of those simpering little clitoral orgasms for Meggan's mom, she comes with full force, The Big O. Ride 'em cowboy..............
[Clarification] [The difference between a "clitoral" and a "vaginal" orgasm is where you are being stimulated to achieve orgasm, not where you feel the orgasm. This may clear up some of the confusion around this common question. The clitoris has a central role in elevating feelings of sexual tension. During sexual excitement, the clitoris swells and changes position. The blood vessels through the whole pelvic area also swell, causing engorgement and creating a feeling a fullness and sexual sensitivity. Your inner vaginal lips swell and change shape. Your vagina balloons upward, and your uterus shifts position in your pelvis. www.coolnurse.com/orgasm_female.htm ]
Quick recovery, Jock. His internal gyro compensates [segwayesquely]. He gains purchase, Jock does--his toes dig into the mattress. He thrusts against her sweaty writhing body, thrusts deep and, grunting, ejaculates in several hearty spurts. Breathing hard, Jock. Smile on's face, grin, a giggle, a hearty whooping laugh, a la Travis McGee, as he healed another broken bird -- um, that was in another country, besides the wench is dead.
Damn, it felt........goooood!
Jock remembers. Meggan with her finger on her clit, bending forward while her dad slammed into her from behind, forcing her face up against Jock's ass, her tongue reaching out, her tongue thrusting, licking, Jock's ass wild, Jock still thrusting into Meggan's mom, wotta sight, wotta night.
Time for a cig break --Jock doesn't smoke.
Meggan doesn't smoke. Meggan's mom doesn't smoke. Meggan's dad, Jerzy, doesn't smoke. They don't approve of Nichole's smoking.
So after sex they loll, kiss and cuddle, lick and squirm, smile and moan. Savoring, savoring.
A nonsmoking postcoital cuddle.
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[But Jock has to get to the point where he and Meggan fuck his own mom and dad. That is, where he fucks his mom and Meggan fucks his dad, to be exact.
So, no, that's not his mom --Maggie-- sucking his dick, in fact no one's sucking his dick, just like no one's sucking my dick alas or I wouldn't be writing this, now, would I?
I could have his mom suck his dick (or my dick, for that matter), but that wouldn't be internally consistent at this point, and consistency as we have been told is the hobgoblin of little minds, philosophers and divines.
Kimmi, now that's more likely, but in fact, since we are dealing in facts, albeit in a somewhat transmogrified form, not unlike, say, disinformation, Kimmi was not sucking Jock's dick, and even though Jock had an erection and could have jacked off in a few minutes, thinking about Meggan, Meggan's mom, his mom, Kimmi and Nichole.
Jock's problem & mine is where (setting, not orifices -- we'll get to the orifices later) to fuck his mom. Kitchen table? Not at this point, my experience is that first mom-fucks rarely take place on the kitchen table. His bedroom? Hers? The couch in the living room? The pool table downstairs? The hot tub?
The hot tub. Great place for a first mom-fuck.]
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Jock remembers the hot tub.
Jock almost nailed his mom in the hot tub in episode, what? 39? 40? (Who's counting?) Kimmi also almost nailed her father in that episode, but her dad, at the last moment, had ....qualms.
[Almost, almost -- close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades and car bombs and- and-. No violence, here. Let's get down, get lewd.]
So in the hot tub again, Jock and Kimmi fucked each other, turned to each other for the comfort that passeth understanding, turned to each other rather seeking comfort from strangers -- which was okay with mom and dad, permissive parents, who were in any case wrapped up and rapt, as is were, in their own dalliance.
Jock remembers the hot tub. He fondled his mother's voluptuous breasts. Kimmi fondled -stroked- her father's cock. Jock's mom wrapped her fingers around Jock's members, his-his rod, his staff, pulled him closer and Jock, eager to reciprocate, slid a digit - his gettin finger -- into his mom's warm vagina, her hot & humid cunt.
But then the old man -ahh, the old man, Dann, the old man had.... qualms.
The old man.
Jock's dad - Dann - lost all the family's money playing lotto. And lost his job an Enron energy salesman tanked because he didn't take KennyBoy's advice to bail, to absquatulate and cash out his stock options.
Dann now runs pizzas for the Goombah Brothers - a Tony Tenor front. It's a minimum wage job, but he does get to drive a company car. It carries a big sign for Goombah Brothers Pizza on the roof.
But Dann's optimistic, he has a couple of great kids, a beautiful wife, a vivacious sister and a pair of old Nikes that just won't give up. Bruce Dern, On the Edge. That kind of momentum.
Dann: started adult life as a 6' 3" hunk, devolved into a --not quite a quivering blob of protoplasm, but .... Dann, forty and flatulent. Impotent, were it not for Viagra, which he cannot afford anymore, not even the cheap internet brand.
Impotent, were it not for Kimmi's delicate hands, her righteous tits, her bubblebutt cheerleader's ass.
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Jock wonders if they ever cleaned it out, the hot tub. God knows what all those exotic and erotic juices could munge into, mutate, intermingle, spawn subaquaean microbes. Antibiotic resistant .... Moss? He didn't want to think about it. SARs. Mad Cow. Anthrax. E Coli. TIA.
Christ! What are patterns for?
Jock got up and cleaned out the hot tub. Nobody else was around. It was like a dream. He drained the tub, scrubbed it with disinfectant, changed the filter, put clean water in it, hot tub crystals to keep the germs in check, degaussed the moss, Ross. Turned on the heat, Pete. Let her churn, Ern. Always - Jock, perennial Boy Scout, always prepared.
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Yes, the hot tub. Definitely there could be more steamy scenes in the hot tub.
Naked, bodies, Meggan's, Jock's, sliding against each other, smooth hot wet flesh, the hardness nudging the soft yielding parts, lips, tongues, kisses.
Jock thinking - who cares, my man, who cares if some one-eyed sonofabitch has invented an instrument to measure spring with? Who cares now, Mr. Vinyl, as long as we have lips and voices which are for kissing and to sing with. And other parts of the body. Jock thinks about other parts of the body, Meggan's firm breasts, his mother's heavy tits, definitely a mouthfull. Kimmi's icecreamcone pert boobs, budding into the first flower of womanhood, as she flushes rubicund glow climactically. Nichole ... but that's another story.
Body parts, the necks, the asses, long svelte legs, toes. The toe bone, Jock thinks. The toe bone connected to the foot bone, the foot bone connect to the ankle bone, the ankle bone connected to the leg bone, the leg bone connected to the thigh bone.
No: wait-wait! Knee bone, Jock thinks, knee bone connected to the thigh bone. Thigh bone connected to the--. What the hell. Pubic bone?
Boner bone.
Jock-Jocko - he thinks too much.
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Meanwhile Meggan's up and about, in the kitchen getting it in the ass from her dad. Her mother's in the shower. Meggan and her dad are sneaking a quickie in the kitchen. A cup of coffee's on the counter. The coffee's getting cold. Meggan's dad shouldn't drink too much coffee anyhow, since he's got, what? Arryhtmia, takes heart pills, beta blockers, expensive little fuckers--no Viagra for Jerzy -- and the beta blockers affected his sex drive, diminished his libido--that is, until he started fucking Meggan.
Now his formerly often-flaccid member stands right up at the touch of her smooth soft hand. Hoo-ha! Attenzione! When her tongue touches the head of his cock, it stands to attention, my friends, it (referring to cock here, Jerzy's cock, no dangling modifiers, puleeze) - it stands to attention, and virtually vibrates with intensity. Throbs. Salutes. Her mouth, a haven, a port, any port in a storm, her talented tongue-- her mouth, wet sucking then, she pulls off his thick meaty rod abruptly and lays over the kitchen table.
Her father moves around and moves to pull pulls her panties down -- no, no panties, they've all agreed to go en dishabille as it were -- kneels, runs his hands across that incredibly firm rump.
Meggan wiggles impatiently, he tenderly kisses each buttock, trails his tongue along the dimples above her hip, dips his head lower, licks, a long luscious swipe, through the fine buttfluff, to the lips, the very labia of her being, purses his lips and kisses, now tongue darting, tenderly, gently touching her rosebud, her fine ass. Meggan enjoys the feel of her father's tongue on her ass. She likes the warm stickiness of what's left of the eggs in the dishes on the table as her tits slide lubriciously back and forth on the platter, the yellow yolk coating her tits, Meggan not thinking about cholsterol one bit, moans, "Fuck me, daddy. Don't you want to fuck me in the ass?"
A rhetorical question. Of course he wants to fuck her in the ass. Does the pope shit in the woods?
He stands up, reaches for the margarine--no butter here, dairy fans, (yes-yes, I know butter was the lubricant of choice in Last Tango, but Meggan's dad is not Marlon Brando, and Meggan is not Maria Schneider, and I--I am not Bernardo Bertolucci) think "cholesterol" (not that Meggan's dad was thinking "e fuckin Coli" as he licked her ass, as his tongue touched and then slid in a notch, slid in another notch, and Meggan squirmed with pleasure, hunching, thrusting her ass back more, more on his tightly-curled tongue, rolled into a tonguetube [which may or may not be a genetic trait] --no e fuckin Coli in a fuck story) even though margarine, of course, has its own health problems -- trans fatty acids and such-- no time to quibble, he grabs the grease and in a nonce has Meggan ready for penetration.
[A bacillus (Escherichia coli) normally found in the human gastrointestinal tract and existing as numerous strains, some of which are responsible for diarrheal diseases. Other strains have been used experimentally in molecular biology. www.bartleby.com/61/9/E0030900.html ]
Penetration! Ah, Christ! Delight! He thinks, What are patterns for? His rigid flesh slides a notch, hesitantly into Meggan's fine ass, penetrates her being, her anus to be more specific. Penetrattzione!
"Uh. Stop" Meggan instructs.. " There. Umm. Go on. A bit. A bit more. Wait. Now. Now. Yes. Yes. Unhh, unhh, yesyes."
Jerzy's in. He pauses to let the full lewd feeling envelope his brain in a PreCambrian old (redundant) red fog of desire and lust. He slowly withdraws, the head of his cock at the rim of her tight clutching sphincter.
"No, stay--"
Then slides the tip back in, let the rim of her anus nibble at the head of his cock, slides in a bit, the helmet's in. Sphinctersnaps.justlikethat!
"Unhhhh."
Again. "Unhhh. Gawddd, Unhhh." Again. "Unhh. Unhhh. Unhhhh."
One of his hands reaches for her fine pussy to rub the little pink nub - her hand is already there, she grabs his hand and thrusts is roughly down on her pussy, she moans, "Fuck me daddy."
Which is exactly what daddy is doing as Meggan's mom walks in, toweling herself, her hair still wet from the shower, her voluptuous body clean and shiny, also relatively e Coli-free.
"Mommy, daddy's fucking me in the ass."
"So I see, honey. Do you like it? Do you like daddy fucking you in the ass?"
Another rhetorical question.
The relentless clenching, unclenching of bun muscles. Lez noticed for the first time how firm his ass had become - formerly a Micky Rourke flabby pre-implant pimply ass, now a Mel Gibson set of bun muscles, filled with vigor and dynamic thrust -- and she realized with the same intensity - ahh, it seems like only yesterday that an amorous amoeba, lubricious with desire, would do the honorable thing and reproduce itself -- this was not the first time her husband had fucked her daughter in the ass.
To Meggan's dad: "How's your heart?" Passive-aggressive? No, genuine concern.
"Unh, unh, unh. Steady, a little fast, but no arrhythmia, ummm, damn fine, this ass." The ass of a trained athlete.
Lez run her hand down Jerzy's butt, his hairy thrusting ass, glutes flexing in an unhurried sexual rhythm. Lez fondles his balls, his heavy swollen testicles move, roil in their sack. "Oh shit," he says. "Easy."
"Oh daddy, don't come yet."
"Easy, easy."
Lez whispers, "You like, don't you, you horny bastard. You like your daughter's ass."
"Oh, wait. Easy, whoa." He starts counting backwards, thinking of....of trilobites. Trilobites crawling across the floors of ancient seas. His thoughts ricochet wildly from synapse to synapse. TS Eliot. I should have been TS Eliot. No. I. Should. Have. Been a pair of claws....... scuttling, skulking, humping.... "Oh geez." Trilobites...(www.trilobites.com/), Eldredge, Stephen H. Gould - no, no, Niles Eldredge, Stephen J. Gould, punctuated equilib -- "Oh jeeeez --"
"Daddy. Don't. Don't. Don't. Come. Yet."
Lez snakes her tongue around Jerzy's ear. "Give it to her, give it to her."
"Wait. Oh Christ. Um um hunh hunh." He arches back in an antediluvian reflex, his groin thrusting hard into Meggan's ass, his daughter's, ass. He begins to shoot volleys of hot cum into Meggan's inner being, the warm humid core of her inner being. Meggan fancied she could feel his hot pulsing cum, and she was working hard to come herself, "Not yet, daddy - oh unh Unh Unh." She moaned as he snaked, smacked into her ass. And he thrust wildly when his wife and the mother of his child gently with an ineluctably savage thrust pushed a digit -her gettin finger - into his ass and he- he - "Gawdddaaaamn!" growled like a grizzly, and, well, he rammed the old avenger home.
He languorously licked the sweat from Meggan's back, still humping lovingly as his penis began its slow, inexorable transformation, transmogrification, from a mighty cudgel to a relatively large and languorous pallid banana slug, he sprawled across her back, Meggan still squirming, Meggan, moaning, "I need, I need -"
Jerzy, shrinking, transmogrifying, no longer the ferocious virile Lothario, whispers in her ear, "Honey, baby. I love -" He pauses, can he say this, can he confess his unholy love for Meggan? Will Lez understand? Do wives really understand and forgive this sort of thng?
Meggan, tense, writhing, not thinking of amour, my man, not cogitating on sweet delights of romance - striving to keep the fire hot in her belly, striving for the ultimate release that passeth understanding, comprehension, red fog in the brain, the old brain, spinning - "I need -"
Cerebral endorphin secretion? [Christ, what am I thinking? "Where it is a duty to worship the Sun it is pretty sure to be a crime to examine the laws of heat."]
Her dad moved off and pulled her upright on the table, licked the still-warm egg yolk from Meggan's shy pert breasts.
"No eggs, honey," Lez admonishes him. "Remember your heart." Yes, that muscle, too.
"Well, then," he smiles, "well, then -." Spreading Meggan's legs, his hands caressing her thighs, his mouth salivating for a generous helping of calorie-free creampie.
"No. Let me." Lez has that wild look in her eyes. "Let me. Do this."
Meggan watches as her mom reaches out. Meggan feels her mother's hand.
"More," Meggan says. "Oh mommy, I want more."
"I know, baby, I know." She bent down and touched her tongue to Meggan's firm tummy, to her thigh, to her vagina, licked that fine pussy, thinking about Jock, thinking about Jock slamming into her and then Meggan licking Jock's wetness, Jock's fluid, Jock's cum from her cunt as Lez lay there, legs sprawled akimbo, the pleasure roaring through her synapses, panting, sweating, wanting to take Jock's now deflating cock and suck it dry, but too ravished, too undone.
"Oh mommy, It's- I'm- I'm-" Meggan jerks like a puppet on a string, a familiar red flush suffuses her chest, her cheeks redden, she pants with pleasure. "Unh, unh, unh." Falls back on the table. The egg platter rattles.
Jerzy says, "Nice, ladies. Very nice." Slaps Meggan's mom lightly on the ass, asks, "Any oatmeal left?"
"Oh, daddy," Meggan says, still flushed, charmingly rubicund breathless with waning sexual energy. Gets to her feet, eyes the last desperate drop of semen on the head of her daddy's cock. A fingertipfull, she caresses it, the semen stuck to the end of her finger and she melodramatically slurps it in, fingerlickin' good, as they once said of the corporate Colonel's grub.
"Uhm," her dad mumbles. His cock twitches. His heart skips a beat. Lurches. Moves for a moment, a few awkward asynchronous beats writhes like a frog in his chest. Brika-brik-brik, coax, coax. [Aristophanes.] Breathe. [God.Oh yes, God, I do believe in You, God.] It's not good to hold your breath at a time like this. Breathe. Deep- take a deep breath, oxygenate that fucker--
Lez pales, sees alarm in his eyes. "Jerzy, you okay?"
Wait. Wait. Wait-wait. He feels like the young kid in lemon-colored gloves waiting to murder two men. If a star should fall, he'd reach out his hand. Si una estrella . . . He waits nervously. Hardly dares to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Dizzy now. Cayese. Falling like a star.
Each one. Each one, he thinks.
Each one stands alone on the heart of the earth pierced through by a ray of sunlight. And in no time it is evening. [Quasimodo]
"Jerzy?"
"Daddy-- Mommy what's wrong? Did I do something--"
Then - then -
"No." Jerzy says. "It's -"
There. There. There. No, it's okay, he feels great, heart lurches in synch, beating with the regular strong pulse of a trained athlete. Pocketa, pocketa, pocketa. The frog in his chest settles down. He smiles, "Naw, I'm okay."
Lez shakes her head with relief, points at the slug. "You'd better wash that monster."
"Thirteen ways of looking at a monster," says Meggan.
"You can say that again," says Lez.
"Thirteen ways of looking at--"
"Shut up." Laughter.
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Not even-, Jock was thinking, Not even the rain - but really unable to sustain a coherent train of thought. Kimmi was stroking his cock. She had on her cheerleading uniform, all but the bottoms, no underpants, the more to rile the lust of the menfolk of the house.
Kimmi says, "This guy looks lonesome. This guy looks like he needs a kiss." She purses her soft lips and pecks the end of his pecker. [aww jeez.] The end of his penis. "This guy, this little guy...." Talkin babytalk now to the massive rod. She waggles his cock. She pecks the end of his penis. Tongues the glans. "Ooo, he like that that. This bad boy likes that." She licks around the head of his cock, then sucks it gently, she goes down on it, way down, takes the whole thing, suppresses the gag reflex, bobs her head, pulls Jock's butt closer in, let's him thrust. Thrusting now, precum flowing, cock throbbing, swells, and Kimmi bobs off takes a breath and goes down back for more, feeling Jock working between her legs, a perfect 69, with her cheerleader skirt pulled up, Jock's pants down to his knees, one of her hands holding his cock, the other pulling his ass.
'Not even" . . . the words are almost on the tip, the tip of his cock--no, the tip of his tongue, which at this precise point in time is tracing the outline of Picasso's famous ink drawing, Quixote, on Kimmi's bare mound, her pussy thatch bare and puffy with passion as she strokes and licks the head of Jock's cock, his rod, his staff, wherewith she seeks some comfort, no? The tip of his tongue slides along the creamy hot slit of her vagina, laving the labia, slurping at the clit, the muscles in his tongue become rigid and he pushes it into her cunt, pulling her to him with both hands, pulling her sweet pussy firmly into his face as his tongue probes her inner being. He relaxes the muscles in his tongue, and licks her from ass to elbow, lingering over her clit with his soft massaging tongue, and she begins to jerk and shudder, freezes, jerks wildly against his face.
His sister, a taboo wild fuckfest.
"Not even -," Jock thinks. Sighs, grunts, "Unhhhh," asscheeks quivering, he spurts of stream of thick, warm cum into Kimmi's mouth, and Kimmi, good little sister that she is, swallows a bit and keeps a bit for the kiss that will follow, as day follows night. The cummings and goings. The ying and yang of it. She knows Jock is a dirty little boy at heart, knows he thinks it's tenderly slutty when she snowballs him, pushing his warm vaguely seawater salty jism, vitiated with her saliva, back into his mouth, swapping the secretions, while he fingers her pussy, strokes it, caresses the lips of her pussy, all smooth, hot sexy, wet and wild.
Not even -, Jock thinks, as he grunts, pumps his almost inarticulate passion into Kimmi's mouth, feels her lips and tongue draw in his essence, draw his manhood, sucking him deeply, making his eyeballs roll back, his legs tremble. His buttocks flex, his gluteal ass jerks, one of Kimmi's hands pulls on his firm muscular ass, pulling him deeper into her throat.
Kimmi suddenly unaccountably thinking of United States Patent 6,485,773 - Myers, et al., November 26, 2002, Semen taste-enhancement dietary supplement, to wit, This invention regards a novel and unobvious dietary supplement formulation of relatively specific ratios of fruits, vegetables, and spices that when ingested by the male results in a significant improvement to the taste of the male ejaculate by reducing its generally salty and/or bitter taste while also adding a pleasant flavor that is considered by 98.5% of all customers as very enjoyable.
This formulation of ingredients can take many product forms including but not limited to a drink powder, tablet, chewable tablet, or capsule form.
She focuses when Jock squeals, "Unh, unh, unh." The cummings and the goings.
Jock, emptying into her mouth, Jock thinking, "Not even." Not even the rain--, something about ..... hands ....
Ah, Christ! What are patterns for?
Not even the rain has such small hands.
"Now me," Kimmi prosaically interrupts Jock's musings. "Do me again, big boy."
Jock does. He does her again. With his usual fraternal care and love and infinite sweetness Jock sips her nectar, laves her, sucks the delicate, slightly passion-swollen membranes, butterflies her clit with the tip of his tongue, a loving arrhythmic rataplan, and Kimmi's heels drum counterpoint on the mattress. Then abruptly her legs snake around his neck, she's an anaconda, pulling him tighter and tighter into the well of her being, her mucoso-saccharine essence, her soft, slimy ambrosial center, all the while holding her breath, reaching for ahhh, well, you know, "unh, unh, unhhhhhhh."
"Loverly." she mutters breathlessly, chest heaving, "fucking awesome."
Jock, gasping, cunt juice drooling from his ravaged mouth, agrees. "Awesome. Bold, outrageous and over-the-top." He crouches over her. He pulls off her top. He kisses her pert breasts, sucks the slightly swollen nipples. His penis has renewed its portentous manly proportions, throbs and flairs like a cobra's head, a mind of its own, sinks into the warm sweet sucking pussy of his sister, and she cries, "Jock, Jock, Jock-o, Jo- Oh, Unh Unh Unhhhhh." Once more into the breach, oh lord, Jock thinks, once more not thinking clearly, into the breach of course, not thinking of Shakespeare, not thinking of Henry IV, nono, Henry V --thinking, if it could be called thinking at all, thinking, as it were, with his dick.
Jock slams, Kimmi hunches back, a wild ride, the lewd and rhythmic slap-slap-slap of firm young bodies fucking with the fervor of trained, exploited-labor-shod athletes --just do it! -- making love with abandon, her vagina massaging his manhood like small velvet clutching hands in a hot tempestuous downpour of love and mindless lust.
This, thinks Jock, a small satanic kink in his brain tweaking synapses on-off, on-off, this is as good as it gets.
Later they shower, wash the love juices from their bodies the depleted ambrosial sauce sluices down the drain to blend with the ubiquitous waters seeking renewal in the vast and yeasty oceans of the earth. Meanwhile, Jock once more with youthful vigor deposits a small bit of cum in her pussy, and it drips with love juice for an hour after they shower, his cum sliding down the inside of her left leg, like egg white, like a careless tempura brushstroke on an unfinished painting, on the wall of a cave --say, the Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc cave-- leaving a snail trail that her mother notices, but does not comment on, thinking they've done it again -- no surprise there, but Jock's getting more pussy than anyone else in the house -- quite a young stud, quite a young Adonis, she pictures her son and daughter in the shower, Jock slowly and deftly sliding his cock into Kimmi's sweet young tight pussy, kissing sweetly, tongues toying with each other, saliva, drool, Maggie thinking that her own pussy was still tight if she used the right muscles, and she could no doubt milk Jock's cock more adeptly than any 18 year old twat even if the 18 year old twat belonged to her daughter.
She squirms, Maggie. Her hand drifts south. Don't get me started, Maggie thinks. Don't get me started.
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The fuyr of fleisschly concupiscence. --Jeff Chaucer
Wanted: One long legged, tall, blonde blue-eyed voluptuous, sexy mother -- flirtatious, permissive, addicted to revealing clothes, works out, tight ass, full breasts, womanly fragrances, not over-perfumed, not drenched in toilet water (sneeze!), smooth skin, untouched by botox, untouched by the surgeon's knife, fluffy long reddish blonde hair, soft full lips (he remembers that kiss in the hot tub not so very long ago -- but, hormonally, eons ago, deep time) -- a mom, thinks Jock, not unlike my own.
A mom, he thinks, who'd set sodden straw on fire. Call her Maggie.
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There are too many ideas, things, people. Too many directions to go. I was starting to believe that the reason it matters to care about something is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size. Is that a sad sweet insight, or what? [Adaptation, Charlie ( or Donald) Kaufman]
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to be cuntinued in one form or another... perhaps hludens
[apologies to Charlie (and Donald) Kaufman, Kenneth Patchen, Aristophanes, God, Quasimodo, ee cummings (no pun intended), Wallace Stevens, Shakespeare, the Pope, Amy Lowell, John Morley, Theodore Roethke, Darwin, e Coli, the estate of Stephen H. Gould - no, no, Stephen J. Gould, et al. Jeff Chaucer. Especially to the sprawling unfocussed talent of a mysterious young writer elsewhere known as DarkVision...]
This is a "copyrighted" "creative endeavor" and the "intellectual" property of the "author". Any reposting or reproduction is strictly prohibited without the express written permission of the author, or the persona, damn his thieving hide. (C)2003, 2005 HLudens.
The contents of this story are figments of the imagination belonging to the persona, "hludens" (insofar as a persona may be said to have an "imagination" - much less to "own" or "create" "intellectual property" emanating therefrom), and as such are, in toto, fictitious, factitious (ipso facto) & any similarity to persons living or dead or residing amongst the undead (and pleading for more cop brains, perish the thought) is purely coincidental.
This story contains possibly exaggerated depictions and/or descriptions of sex, between or among persons 18 and over, including possibly perfunctory, exotic, mechanical, perhaps illegal and boring sex between or among family members utilizing the "missionary position", but not inclusive thereof, nor exclusive and may suggest things you might not want to discuss with - or try out on - your sister or mother. Or father or brother, for that matter. This "story" is intended for adults, namely big people over the age of 18 with a valid state ID card only, alcohol and drug free. Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this material. May cause dizziness or shortness of breath. If you are offended by the prospect of reading material of this nature, are under the legal age in your location to read this material, or it is illegal for you to possess this, or if it does not meet community standards in your neighborhood, or if you think the TIA will gitchoo, go no further.
Sir, or madame as the case may be, step away from the computer. Hie thee to a nunnery.
The author does not solicit effusive praise or rabid condemnation & may or may not be contacted at the address in my profile.
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Jock's Dark Vision
In the destructive element immerse. --Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim
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--Warm up--
[fuckfuckfuck--Now, what the fuck difference does it make, I've got to try to find a way to get this done--get on with the story, I'm, I'm, I'm...........blocked? Why? What does that mean, I mean I have the characters, all I have to do is move them along, get them into clinches with each other, oral, genital, anal, whatever -- basic themes, variations on basic themes.]
[okay-okay :: Characters, Jock, his sister Kimmi; Jock's GF Meggan. Jock's already fucked her mother, and his GF's fucked her father, that was a trip, there-there, both couples fucking each other, lots of eroticism, now, now, - got to get Jock into the sack with his mom, bona fide penetration, Meggan with his dad - no, that's not fair to....Kimmi, Jock's sister, who claims droit d' sib, ie, droit d'daughter.]
Kimmi, Kimmi, Kimmi.
[papa oom mow mow, papa oom mau mau -a la Rivingtons......And what about Todd and his sister? - shouldn't they get to fuck their parents too? Okay, it isn't fair, but then life isn't fair and neither is literary erotica, that is, ummm, sexually explicit, masturbatory erotic writing. Call a s0pade a spade: Porno. Both hands on the keyboard, here, steady, steady.....]
[Deal with Jock. I hate this, deal with it, deal with the unfairness of life, or the- the - unfairness, for, after all, all's fair in love and war and anything can happen in erotica, in fict- Jock's got to get home. Okay-okay, he's home.]
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[He's getting up in the morning, Jocko. And-and there's Kimmi! Giving him a blowjob, she has her lips wrapped around his cock, and slurping like - no, wait, it's Nichole Kidm-. Morphing into --what the fu-- it's his mom. Wait it's a dream - he's dreaming, lips on his pecker -no can't call it a pecker, guidelines call for, what? Willy? No, no, no! jesusHchristOnaCrutch, his cock, his monstrous rod, truly big in fact, -no, Rabelaisian, i.e. Gargantuan -long, wide, gristley, gibsonesquely implanted with a neuromantic chip running at a redhot . . . petering out here ... -pecker, aw jeez.]
-Segue- [no relation to Segway (tm)]
Jock shuts his eyes and starts over.
Meggan's mom, Lez. Now there was a piece of ass. No no, can't demean the act of fucking Meggan's mom, that was prime stuff. "Prime stuff" - who'm I talking to here? On the other hand, call a digging implement a digging implement, Jock thinks. I'm not in with love her. Well, maybe a little bit in love with her, but you know, just -
[fuckfuckfuck]
"Sweet." Ahh, yes. Sweet indeed.
Jock remembers her soft eyes, looking up at him, imploring, as he slid his cock slowly into her hot channel. Cunt. Yes, hot cunt. Okay, vagina. Orifices: can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Well okaaaaayyyy, it was hot and wet, not sloppy wet, you understand, but slick and he plunged in to the....the... hilt - thinking, dagger here? No-sword, Saracen blade. Kukri, the blade of the Gurkhas: It has been said that the notch (kaura) in the blade near the hilt arouses much interest. Although it may certainly act as a check to excessive blood on the hilt, and be used to catch and neutralise an enemy blade, it is essentially a Hindu religious and phallic symbol. Phallic, hilt, yes, as I was saying: Whole 9 yards, that's an apt expression, whole nine yards, and yet, and yet--in Jock's penile case, certainly an exaggeration, whole 9 inches would also be an exaggeration, not by much, an inch or two, perhaps more or less, who's counting?
She moans, Lez, not counting inches, moans sweetly, her breath warm and humid on his face, she moans, her breath in short huffs as he thrusts, banging her. "Unh, unh? unh? unh?." The hesitant upward almost interrogatory inflections, unh? unh? unh? She's getting there. Jock likes that, likes the sound of it, the soft sweet sound of lovemaking, sex, humping, in-and-out, the twobacked beast, as the Bard called it, but I digress.
Banging her? Well, yes. He's banging her, pumping, doing the old in and out, Jock is on Meggan's mom like white on rice, syncopated thrusting, as Meggan and Meggan's dad, Jerzy, look on, enchanted, as Lez wraps her arms and legs around Jock and hugs him close and Jock thrusts methodically in and out, with the patented Jockfucker variations, varying speed, plunge motion, depth, wiggle, allowing for wind and gravity and the butterfly in China chaotically fluttering. [been there done that, got the t-shirt shitshitshit]
Meggan's mom now making tiny, almost undetectable subvocalizations as her pleasure moves from the back of her skull, down through her spine (goosebumps galore), down through her legs, spreading out through her torso, her heart, her torso, the center of her being, then exploding again in her skull as she climaxes and damn near bucks Jock off, making him lose his place there for a moment. (Hold on there, buckaroo!) None of those simpering little clitoral orgasms for Meggan's mom, she comes with full force, The Big O. Ride 'em cowboy..............
[Clarification] [The difference between a "clitoral" and a "vaginal" orgasm is where you are being stimulated to achieve orgasm, not where you feel the orgasm. This may clear up some of the confusion around this common question. The clitoris has a central role in elevating feelings of sexual tension. During sexual excitement, the clitoris swells and changes position. The blood vessels through the whole pelvic area also swell, causing engorgement and creating a feeling a fullness and sexual sensitivity. Your inner vaginal lips swell and change shape. Your vagina balloons upward, and your uterus shifts position in your pelvis. www.coolnurse.com/orgasm_female.htm ]
Quick recovery, Jock. His internal gyro compensates [segwayesquely]. He gains purchase, Jock does--his toes dig into the mattress. He thrusts against her sweaty writhing body, thrusts deep and, grunting, ejaculates in several hearty spurts. Breathing hard, Jock. Smile on's face, grin, a giggle, a hearty whooping laugh, a la Travis McGee, as he healed another broken bird -- um, that was in another country, besides the wench is dead.
Damn, it felt........goooood!
Jock remembers. Meggan with her finger on her clit, bending forward while her dad slammed into her from behind, forcing her face up against Jock's ass, her tongue reaching out, her tongue thrusting, licking, Jock's ass wild, Jock still thrusting into Meggan's mom, wotta sight, wotta night.
Time for a cig break --Jock doesn't smoke.
Meggan doesn't smoke. Meggan's mom doesn't smoke. Meggan's dad, Jerzy, doesn't smoke. They don't approve of Nichole's smoking.
So after sex they loll, kiss and cuddle, lick and squirm, smile and moan. Savoring, savoring.
A nonsmoking postcoital cuddle.
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[But Jock has to get to the point where he and Meggan fuck his own mom and dad. That is, where he fucks his mom and Meggan fucks his dad, to be exact.
So, no, that's not his mom --Maggie-- sucking his dick, in fact no one's sucking his dick, just like no one's sucking my dick alas or I wouldn't be writing this, now, would I?
I could have his mom suck his dick (or my dick, for that matter), but that wouldn't be internally consistent at this point, and consistency as we have been told is the hobgoblin of little minds, philosophers and divines.
Kimmi, now that's more likely, but in fact, since we are dealing in facts, albeit in a somewhat transmogrified form, not unlike, say, disinformation, Kimmi was not sucking Jock's dick, and even though Jock had an erection and could have jacked off in a few minutes, thinking about Meggan, Meggan's mom, his mom, Kimmi and Nichole.
Jock's problem & mine is where (setting, not orifices -- we'll get to the orifices later) to fuck his mom. Kitchen table? Not at this point, my experience is that first mom-fucks rarely take place on the kitchen table. His bedroom? Hers? The couch in the living room? The pool table downstairs? The hot tub?
The hot tub. Great place for a first mom-fuck.]
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Jock remembers the hot tub.
Jock almost nailed his mom in the hot tub in episode, what? 39? 40? (Who's counting?) Kimmi also almost nailed her father in that episode, but her dad, at the last moment, had ....qualms.
[Almost, almost -- close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades and car bombs and- and-. No violence, here. Let's get down, get lewd.]
So in the hot tub again, Jock and Kimmi fucked each other, turned to each other for the comfort that passeth understanding, turned to each other rather seeking comfort from strangers -- which was okay with mom and dad, permissive parents, who were in any case wrapped up and rapt, as is were, in their own dalliance.
Jock remembers the hot tub. He fondled his mother's voluptuous breasts. Kimmi fondled -stroked- her father's cock. Jock's mom wrapped her fingers around Jock's members, his-his rod, his staff, pulled him closer and Jock, eager to reciprocate, slid a digit - his gettin finger -- into his mom's warm vagina, her hot & humid cunt.
But then the old man -ahh, the old man, Dann, the old man had.... qualms.
The old man.
Jock's dad - Dann - lost all the family's money playing lotto. And lost his job an Enron energy salesman tanked because he didn't take KennyBoy's advice to bail, to absquatulate and cash out his stock options.
Dann now runs pizzas for the Goombah Brothers - a Tony Tenor front. It's a minimum wage job, but he does get to drive a company car. It carries a big sign for Goombah Brothers Pizza on the roof.
But Dann's optimistic, he has a couple of great kids, a beautiful wife, a vivacious sister and a pair of old Nikes that just won't give up. Bruce Dern, On the Edge. That kind of momentum.
Dann: started adult life as a 6' 3" hunk, devolved into a --not quite a quivering blob of protoplasm, but .... Dann, forty and flatulent. Impotent, were it not for Viagra, which he cannot afford anymore, not even the cheap internet brand.
Impotent, were it not for Kimmi's delicate hands, her righteous tits, her bubblebutt cheerleader's ass.
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Jock wonders if they ever cleaned it out, the hot tub. God knows what all those exotic and erotic juices could munge into, mutate, intermingle, spawn subaquaean microbes. Antibiotic resistant .... Moss? He didn't want to think about it. SARs. Mad Cow. Anthrax. E Coli. TIA.
Christ! What are patterns for?
Jock got up and cleaned out the hot tub. Nobody else was around. It was like a dream. He drained the tub, scrubbed it with disinfectant, changed the filter, put clean water in it, hot tub crystals to keep the germs in check, degaussed the moss, Ross. Turned on the heat, Pete. Let her churn, Ern. Always - Jock, perennial Boy Scout, always prepared.
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Yes, the hot tub. Definitely there could be more steamy scenes in the hot tub.
Naked, bodies, Meggan's, Jock's, sliding against each other, smooth hot wet flesh, the hardness nudging the soft yielding parts, lips, tongues, kisses.
Jock thinking - who cares, my man, who cares if some one-eyed sonofabitch has invented an instrument to measure spring with? Who cares now, Mr. Vinyl, as long as we have lips and voices which are for kissing and to sing with. And other parts of the body. Jock thinks about other parts of the body, Meggan's firm breasts, his mother's heavy tits, definitely a mouthfull. Kimmi's icecreamcone pert boobs, budding into the first flower of womanhood, as she flushes rubicund glow climactically. Nichole ... but that's another story.
Body parts, the necks, the asses, long svelte legs, toes. The toe bone, Jock thinks. The toe bone connected to the foot bone, the foot bone connect to the ankle bone, the ankle bone connected to the leg bone, the leg bone connected to the thigh bone.
No: wait-wait! Knee bone, Jock thinks, knee bone connected to the thigh bone. Thigh bone connected to the--. What the hell. Pubic bone?
Boner bone.
Jock-Jocko - he thinks too much.
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Meanwhile Meggan's up and about, in the kitchen getting it in the ass from her dad. Her mother's in the shower. Meggan and her dad are sneaking a quickie in the kitchen. A cup of coffee's on the counter. The coffee's getting cold. Meggan's dad shouldn't drink too much coffee anyhow, since he's got, what? Arryhtmia, takes heart pills, beta blockers, expensive little fuckers--no Viagra for Jerzy -- and the beta blockers affected his sex drive, diminished his libido--that is, until he started fucking Meggan.
Now his formerly often-flaccid member stands right up at the touch of her smooth soft hand. Hoo-ha! Attenzione! When her tongue touches the head of his cock, it stands to attention, my friends, it (referring to cock here, Jerzy's cock, no dangling modifiers, puleeze) - it stands to attention, and virtually vibrates with intensity. Throbs. Salutes. Her mouth, a haven, a port, any port in a storm, her talented tongue-- her mouth, wet sucking then, she pulls off his thick meaty rod abruptly and lays over the kitchen table.
Her father moves around and moves to pull pulls her panties down -- no, no panties, they've all agreed to go en dishabille as it were -- kneels, runs his hands across that incredibly firm rump.
Meggan wiggles impatiently, he tenderly kisses each buttock, trails his tongue along the dimples above her hip, dips his head lower, licks, a long luscious swipe, through the fine buttfluff, to the lips, the very labia of her being, purses his lips and kisses, now tongue darting, tenderly, gently touching her rosebud, her fine ass. Meggan enjoys the feel of her father's tongue on her ass. She likes the warm stickiness of what's left of the eggs in the dishes on the table as her tits slide lubriciously back and forth on the platter, the yellow yolk coating her tits, Meggan not thinking about cholsterol one bit, moans, "Fuck me, daddy. Don't you want to fuck me in the ass?"
A rhetorical question. Of course he wants to fuck her in the ass. Does the pope shit in the woods?
He stands up, reaches for the margarine--no butter here, dairy fans, (yes-yes, I know butter was the lubricant of choice in Last Tango, but Meggan's dad is not Marlon Brando, and Meggan is not Maria Schneider, and I--I am not Bernardo Bertolucci) think "cholesterol" (not that Meggan's dad was thinking "e fuckin Coli" as he licked her ass, as his tongue touched and then slid in a notch, slid in another notch, and Meggan squirmed with pleasure, hunching, thrusting her ass back more, more on his tightly-curled tongue, rolled into a tonguetube [which may or may not be a genetic trait] --no e fuckin Coli in a fuck story) even though margarine, of course, has its own health problems -- trans fatty acids and such-- no time to quibble, he grabs the grease and in a nonce has Meggan ready for penetration.
[A bacillus (Escherichia coli) normally found in the human gastrointestinal tract and existing as numerous strains, some of which are responsible for diarrheal diseases. Other strains have been used experimentally in molecular biology. www.bartleby.com/61/9/E0030900.html ]
Penetration! Ah, Christ! Delight! He thinks, What are patterns for? His rigid flesh slides a notch, hesitantly into Meggan's fine ass, penetrates her being, her anus to be more specific. Penetrattzione!
"Uh. Stop" Meggan instructs.. " There. Umm. Go on. A bit. A bit more. Wait. Now. Now. Yes. Yes. Unhh, unhh, yesyes."
Jerzy's in. He pauses to let the full lewd feeling envelope his brain in a PreCambrian old (redundant) red fog of desire and lust. He slowly withdraws, the head of his cock at the rim of her tight clutching sphincter.
"No, stay--"
Then slides the tip back in, let the rim of her anus nibble at the head of his cock, slides in a bit, the helmet's in. Sphinctersnaps.justlikethat!
"Unhhhh."
Again. "Unhhh. Gawddd, Unhhh." Again. "Unhh. Unhhh. Unhhhh."
One of his hands reaches for her fine pussy to rub the little pink nub - her hand is already there, she grabs his hand and thrusts is roughly down on her pussy, she moans, "Fuck me daddy."
Which is exactly what daddy is doing as Meggan's mom walks in, toweling herself, her hair still wet from the shower, her voluptuous body clean and shiny, also relatively e Coli-free.
"Mommy, daddy's fucking me in the ass."
"So I see, honey. Do you like it? Do you like daddy fucking you in the ass?"
Another rhetorical question.
The relentless clenching, unclenching of bun muscles. Lez noticed for the first time how firm his ass had become - formerly a Micky Rourke flabby pre-implant pimply ass, now a Mel Gibson set of bun muscles, filled with vigor and dynamic thrust -- and she realized with the same intensity - ahh, it seems like only yesterday that an amorous amoeba, lubricious with desire, would do the honorable thing and reproduce itself -- this was not the first time her husband had fucked her daughter in the ass.
To Meggan's dad: "How's your heart?" Passive-aggressive? No, genuine concern.
"Unh, unh, unh. Steady, a little fast, but no arrhythmia, ummm, damn fine, this ass." The ass of a trained athlete.
Lez run her hand down Jerzy's butt, his hairy thrusting ass, glutes flexing in an unhurried sexual rhythm. Lez fondles his balls, his heavy swollen testicles move, roil in their sack. "Oh shit," he says. "Easy."
"Oh daddy, don't come yet."
"Easy, easy."
Lez whispers, "You like, don't you, you horny bastard. You like your daughter's ass."
"Oh, wait. Easy, whoa." He starts counting backwards, thinking of....of trilobites. Trilobites crawling across the floors of ancient seas. His thoughts ricochet wildly from synapse to synapse. TS Eliot. I should have been TS Eliot. No. I. Should. Have. Been a pair of claws....... scuttling, skulking, humping.... "Oh geez." Trilobites...(www.trilobites.com/), Eldredge, Stephen H. Gould - no, no, Niles Eldredge, Stephen J. Gould, punctuated equilib -- "Oh jeeeez --"
"Daddy. Don't. Don't. Don't. Come. Yet."
Lez snakes her tongue around Jerzy's ear. "Give it to her, give it to her."
"Wait. Oh Christ. Um um hunh hunh." He arches back in an antediluvian reflex, his groin thrusting hard into Meggan's ass, his daughter's, ass. He begins to shoot volleys of hot cum into Meggan's inner being, the warm humid core of her inner being. Meggan fancied she could feel his hot pulsing cum, and she was working hard to come herself, "Not yet, daddy - oh unh Unh Unh." She moaned as he snaked, smacked into her ass. And he thrust wildly when his wife and the mother of his child gently with an ineluctably savage thrust pushed a digit -her gettin finger - into his ass and he- he - "Gawdddaaaamn!" growled like a grizzly, and, well, he rammed the old avenger home.
He languorously licked the sweat from Meggan's back, still humping lovingly as his penis began its slow, inexorable transformation, transmogrification, from a mighty cudgel to a relatively large and languorous pallid banana slug, he sprawled across her back, Meggan still squirming, Meggan, moaning, "I need, I need -"
Jerzy, shrinking, transmogrifying, no longer the ferocious virile Lothario, whispers in her ear, "Honey, baby. I love -" He pauses, can he say this, can he confess his unholy love for Meggan? Will Lez understand? Do wives really understand and forgive this sort of thng?
Meggan, tense, writhing, not thinking of amour, my man, not cogitating on sweet delights of romance - striving to keep the fire hot in her belly, striving for the ultimate release that passeth understanding, comprehension, red fog in the brain, the old brain, spinning - "I need -"
Cerebral endorphin secretion? [Christ, what am I thinking? "Where it is a duty to worship the Sun it is pretty sure to be a crime to examine the laws of heat."]
Her dad moved off and pulled her upright on the table, licked the still-warm egg yolk from Meggan's shy pert breasts.
"No eggs, honey," Lez admonishes him. "Remember your heart." Yes, that muscle, too.
"Well, then," he smiles, "well, then -." Spreading Meggan's legs, his hands caressing her thighs, his mouth salivating for a generous helping of calorie-free creampie.
"No. Let me." Lez has that wild look in her eyes. "Let me. Do this."
Meggan watches as her mom reaches out. Meggan feels her mother's hand.
"More," Meggan says. "Oh mommy, I want more."
"I know, baby, I know." She bent down and touched her tongue to Meggan's firm tummy, to her thigh, to her vagina, licked that fine pussy, thinking about Jock, thinking about Jock slamming into her and then Meggan licking Jock's wetness, Jock's fluid, Jock's cum from her cunt as Lez lay there, legs sprawled akimbo, the pleasure roaring through her synapses, panting, sweating, wanting to take Jock's now deflating cock and suck it dry, but too ravished, too undone.
"Oh mommy, It's- I'm- I'm-" Meggan jerks like a puppet on a string, a familiar red flush suffuses her chest, her cheeks redden, she pants with pleasure. "Unh, unh, unh." Falls back on the table. The egg platter rattles.
Jerzy says, "Nice, ladies. Very nice." Slaps Meggan's mom lightly on the ass, asks, "Any oatmeal left?"
"Oh, daddy," Meggan says, still flushed, charmingly rubicund breathless with waning sexual energy. Gets to her feet, eyes the last desperate drop of semen on the head of her daddy's cock. A fingertipfull, she caresses it, the semen stuck to the end of her finger and she melodramatically slurps it in, fingerlickin' good, as they once said of the corporate Colonel's grub.
"Uhm," her dad mumbles. His cock twitches. His heart skips a beat. Lurches. Moves for a moment, a few awkward asynchronous beats writhes like a frog in his chest. Brika-brik-brik, coax, coax. [Aristophanes.] Breathe. [God.Oh yes, God, I do believe in You, God.] It's not good to hold your breath at a time like this. Breathe. Deep- take a deep breath, oxygenate that fucker--
Lez pales, sees alarm in his eyes. "Jerzy, you okay?"
Wait. Wait. Wait-wait. He feels like the young kid in lemon-colored gloves waiting to murder two men. If a star should fall, he'd reach out his hand. Si una estrella . . . He waits nervously. Hardly dares to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Dizzy now. Cayese. Falling like a star.
Each one. Each one, he thinks.
Each one stands alone on the heart of the earth pierced through by a ray of sunlight. And in no time it is evening. [Quasimodo]
"Jerzy?"
"Daddy-- Mommy what's wrong? Did I do something--"
Then - then -
"No." Jerzy says. "It's -"
There. There. There. No, it's okay, he feels great, heart lurches in synch, beating with the regular strong pulse of a trained athlete. Pocketa, pocketa, pocketa. The frog in his chest settles down. He smiles, "Naw, I'm okay."
Lez shakes her head with relief, points at the slug. "You'd better wash that monster."
"Thirteen ways of looking at a monster," says Meggan.
"You can say that again," says Lez.
"Thirteen ways of looking at--"
"Shut up." Laughter.
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Not even-, Jock was thinking, Not even the rain - but really unable to sustain a coherent train of thought. Kimmi was stroking his cock. She had on her cheerleading uniform, all but the bottoms, no underpants, the more to rile the lust of the menfolk of the house.
Kimmi says, "This guy looks lonesome. This guy looks like he needs a kiss." She purses her soft lips and pecks the end of his pecker. [aww jeez.] The end of his penis. "This guy, this little guy...." Talkin babytalk now to the massive rod. She waggles his cock. She pecks the end of his penis. Tongues the glans. "Ooo, he like that that. This bad boy likes that." She licks around the head of his cock, then sucks it gently, she goes down on it, way down, takes the whole thing, suppresses the gag reflex, bobs her head, pulls Jock's butt closer in, let's him thrust. Thrusting now, precum flowing, cock throbbing, swells, and Kimmi bobs off takes a breath and goes down back for more, feeling Jock working between her legs, a perfect 69, with her cheerleader skirt pulled up, Jock's pants down to his knees, one of her hands holding his cock, the other pulling his ass.
'Not even" . . . the words are almost on the tip, the tip of his cock--no, the tip of his tongue, which at this precise point in time is tracing the outline of Picasso's famous ink drawing, Quixote, on Kimmi's bare mound, her pussy thatch bare and puffy with passion as she strokes and licks the head of Jock's cock, his rod, his staff, wherewith she seeks some comfort, no? The tip of his tongue slides along the creamy hot slit of her vagina, laving the labia, slurping at the clit, the muscles in his tongue become rigid and he pushes it into her cunt, pulling her to him with both hands, pulling her sweet pussy firmly into his face as his tongue probes her inner being. He relaxes the muscles in his tongue, and licks her from ass to elbow, lingering over her clit with his soft massaging tongue, and she begins to jerk and shudder, freezes, jerks wildly against his face.
His sister, a taboo wild fuckfest.
"Not even -," Jock thinks. Sighs, grunts, "Unhhhh," asscheeks quivering, he spurts of stream of thick, warm cum into Kimmi's mouth, and Kimmi, good little sister that she is, swallows a bit and keeps a bit for the kiss that will follow, as day follows night. The cummings and goings. The ying and yang of it. She knows Jock is a dirty little boy at heart, knows he thinks it's tenderly slutty when she snowballs him, pushing his warm vaguely seawater salty jism, vitiated with her saliva, back into his mouth, swapping the secretions, while he fingers her pussy, strokes it, caresses the lips of her pussy, all smooth, hot sexy, wet and wild.
Not even -, Jock thinks, as he grunts, pumps his almost inarticulate passion into Kimmi's mouth, feels her lips and tongue draw in his essence, draw his manhood, sucking him deeply, making his eyeballs roll back, his legs tremble. His buttocks flex, his gluteal ass jerks, one of Kimmi's hands pulls on his firm muscular ass, pulling him deeper into her throat.
Kimmi suddenly unaccountably thinking of United States Patent 6,485,773 - Myers, et al., November 26, 2002, Semen taste-enhancement dietary supplement, to wit, This invention regards a novel and unobvious dietary supplement formulation of relatively specific ratios of fruits, vegetables, and spices that when ingested by the male results in a significant improvement to the taste of the male ejaculate by reducing its generally salty and/or bitter taste while also adding a pleasant flavor that is considered by 98.5% of all customers as very enjoyable.
This formulation of ingredients can take many product forms including but not limited to a drink powder, tablet, chewable tablet, or capsule form.
She focuses when Jock squeals, "Unh, unh, unh." The cummings and the goings.
Jock, emptying into her mouth, Jock thinking, "Not even." Not even the rain--, something about ..... hands ....
Ah, Christ! What are patterns for?
Not even the rain has such small hands.
"Now me," Kimmi prosaically interrupts Jock's musings. "Do me again, big boy."
Jock does. He does her again. With his usual fraternal care and love and infinite sweetness Jock sips her nectar, laves her, sucks the delicate, slightly passion-swollen membranes, butterflies her clit with the tip of his tongue, a loving arrhythmic rataplan, and Kimmi's heels drum counterpoint on the mattress. Then abruptly her legs snake around his neck, she's an anaconda, pulling him tighter and tighter into the well of her being, her mucoso-saccharine essence, her soft, slimy ambrosial center, all the while holding her breath, reaching for ahhh, well, you know, "unh, unh, unhhhhhhh."
"Loverly." she mutters breathlessly, chest heaving, "fucking awesome."
Jock, gasping, cunt juice drooling from his ravaged mouth, agrees. "Awesome. Bold, outrageous and over-the-top." He crouches over her. He pulls off her top. He kisses her pert breasts, sucks the slightly swollen nipples. His penis has renewed its portentous manly proportions, throbs and flairs like a cobra's head, a mind of its own, sinks into the warm sweet sucking pussy of his sister, and she cries, "Jock, Jock, Jock-o, Jo- Oh, Unh Unh Unhhhhh." Once more into the breach, oh lord, Jock thinks, once more not thinking clearly, into the breach of course, not thinking of Shakespeare, not thinking of Henry IV, nono, Henry V --thinking, if it could be called thinking at all, thinking, as it were, with his dick.
Jock slams, Kimmi hunches back, a wild ride, the lewd and rhythmic slap-slap-slap of firm young bodies fucking with the fervor of trained, exploited-labor-shod athletes --just do it! -- making love with abandon, her vagina massaging his manhood like small velvet clutching hands in a hot tempestuous downpour of love and mindless lust.
This, thinks Jock, a small satanic kink in his brain tweaking synapses on-off, on-off, this is as good as it gets.
Later they shower, wash the love juices from their bodies the depleted ambrosial sauce sluices down the drain to blend with the ubiquitous waters seeking renewal in the vast and yeasty oceans of the earth. Meanwhile, Jock once more with youthful vigor deposits a small bit of cum in her pussy, and it drips with love juice for an hour after they shower, his cum sliding down the inside of her left leg, like egg white, like a careless tempura brushstroke on an unfinished painting, on the wall of a cave --say, the Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc cave-- leaving a snail trail that her mother notices, but does not comment on, thinking they've done it again -- no surprise there, but Jock's getting more pussy than anyone else in the house -- quite a young stud, quite a young Adonis, she pictures her son and daughter in the shower, Jock slowly and deftly sliding his cock into Kimmi's sweet young tight pussy, kissing sweetly, tongues toying with each other, saliva, drool, Maggie thinking that her own pussy was still tight if she used the right muscles, and she could no doubt milk Jock's cock more adeptly than any 18 year old twat even if the 18 year old twat belonged to her daughter.
She squirms, Maggie. Her hand drifts south. Don't get me started, Maggie thinks. Don't get me started.
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The fuyr of fleisschly concupiscence. --Jeff Chaucer
Wanted: One long legged, tall, blonde blue-eyed voluptuous, sexy mother -- flirtatious, permissive, addicted to revealing clothes, works out, tight ass, full breasts, womanly fragrances, not over-perfumed, not drenched in toilet water (sneeze!), smooth skin, untouched by botox, untouched by the surgeon's knife, fluffy long reddish blonde hair, soft full lips (he remembers that kiss in the hot tub not so very long ago -- but, hormonally, eons ago, deep time) -- a mom, thinks Jock, not unlike my own.
A mom, he thinks, who'd set sodden straw on fire. Call her Maggie.
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There are too many ideas, things, people. Too many directions to go. I was starting to believe that the reason it matters to care about something is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size. Is that a sad sweet insight, or what? [Adaptation, Charlie ( or Donald) Kaufman]
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to be cuntinued in one form or another... perhaps hludens
[apologies to Charlie (and Donald) Kaufman, Kenneth Patchen, Aristophanes, God, Quasimodo, ee cummings (no pun intended), Wallace Stevens, Shakespeare, the Pope, Amy Lowell, John Morley, Theodore Roethke, Darwin, e Coli, the estate of Stephen H. Gould - no, no, Stephen J. Gould, et al. Jeff Chaucer. Especially to the sprawling unfocussed talent of a mysterious young writer elsewhere known as DarkVision...]