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FantasySex.Com
Note: This was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
Author: Arthur Kay Title: FantasySex.Com Summary: Timmy Case is in for a
surprise when he volunteers for a Glory scenario as part of his job at
FantasySex.Com. Keywords: Humor, MF, M+F
WARNING: This is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are
offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any
resemblance between this and a real event is coincidental. The
participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences
other than those portrayed in the story. The is intended for
entertainment and should not be emulated in the real world.
FantasySex.Com
by Arthur Kay
Maybe you've heard of FantasySex.Com, maybe not. Maybe you even used
their services at one time or another, maybe not. Whatever the case, they
sure do a booming business in the sexual fantasy trade. Any sexual
fantasy, however wild, however kinky, is within their bailiwick. All
anyone has to do is ask for it, pay the steep fees, and their fantasy can
become a harmless reality. Their motto is: You dream it, we'll scheme it!
Anything goes--as long as no one gets hurt, that is.
But, friend, there are many different kinds of now, aren't there?
Joe Wade looked at the new assignment sheet in front of him. As
Production Director, it was up to Wade to set up each fantasy scenario. He
had to gather the "cast" and, if desired by the customer, have a crew
in place. And most folks were willing to pay the extra fees necessary to
have their own personal, take-it-home-and-watch-it-over-and-over, DVD
digital copy. This particular scenario was no exception.
Wade read: Harry D., a 25 year white guy, hair, blue eyes, 5'
7" tall, 145 lbs., married, 2 kids, wanted to be in a "prison" setting with
five or six big and rough black dudes. They were all to be well endowed,
with no one having smaller than eight inches.
It was to be his first night on the "cellblock" and the black were
to immediately size him up as a piece of new jailhouse meat. They were to
"punk" him and "turn him out." Make him their "male prison slut" for at
least four hours, five if it could be managed. He wanted to be treated
roughly, harshly, cruelly, totally degraded and humiliated--but not
physically. They were to be extremely forceful, but not the least harmful.
In the initial stage, he was to be forced to shave all the hair off his
legs, arms, underarms, chest, and crotch. In essence, making him more
girlish. He was to be forced to wear a garter belt, nipple clamps, and
perfume. These were to be supplied by the client. Wade had told the
client that all such things were part of the FantasySex price, but for some
reason, the guy wanted to use his own items.
After the initial stage was completed, he was to be "forced" to his
knees and ordered to suck their big black cocks. One of the was to be
chosen to play the gang leader and was to be called Banger. He even had a
rough draft of a script Banger was to follow. Banger was to say things
along the lines of:
"When we shoot our you better it all, you cocksucking
faggot. You understand? I don't want to see even one drop of our hit
the floor. You got that?"
And, "Suck it nice and slow, girl, to show me how much you love my big
black cock because your white ass belongs to the now!"
And, "Deep-throat my big black prick, you fucking cocksucking pussy!
And when I shoot, you'd better it all and not spill a drop!"
And, "Keep your eyes open, cocksucker. I want you looking at hairy
black crotches. I'll be sneaking peeks at you and if I catch you with your
eyes closed you're getting a beating."
And, "Put your hands on his ass cheeks and pull him to you as you suck
him off."
And, "Suck his balls, real good! Get them good and wet!"
Wade wondered just how well the "Banger" would do when it came to
remembering his lines, especially in the heat of the action. Oh, well, he
thought, as long as he comes even close, the client will probably never
notice.
The client also was to be "forced" to take their cocks up his ass.
Simultaneously with his being mouth fucked, at some point in the game. He
referred to this dual action as getting "spit roasted." As before, the lube
was to be provided by the client.
Each black guy was to drop two loads. One in the client's mouth and one
in his ass. The first, the mouth loads, was an absolute that he insisted
be fulfilled. It was okay if the had to fake cumming in his ass, he
understood that, but he was adamant about the mouth loads. He wanted it
guaranteed that he'd six loads, by six guys, and no less.
And the kid even had a basic script for the rest of the gang, too. He
wanted them to use words like "faggot" and "cocksucker" and whatever else
they could ad-lib that was in the humiliation vein.
Wade could see it now. Being unprofessional actors, who don't exactly
have their timing down pat, he could six black all yelling,
"faggot cocksucker" at the same time! Shit, he thought, add some music and
you could dance to it.
Wade remembered a past scenario where a housewife wanted the
eight guys, who were playing her school chums, to call her "slut" and
"whore" during the action. What a mess that was! Wade, playing one of her
chums, probably heard "Slutty whore!" a hundred times that night. It had
almost turned into a cheerleading chant! Gimme an S! The amazing thing
was, the housewife later sent him a note saying how perfect she thought
everything went, how it was way beyond her expectations. Go figure.
This particular "prison" client also wanted to play "Ride the Whip" in
which he would sit on Banger's lap, Banger's dick fully up his ass, and be
"forced" to suck off the other guys, one after the other. Was it to be
filmed? But of course. 8pm tonight was to be the Showtime. In studio 5.
Make that cellblock 5.
Wade looked at a penciled-in note along the margin: If it's OK, this guy
also wants the black dudes to in his mouth. And he wants Banger to
say: "Swallow all our piss, punk. One drop hits the floor and your ass is
getting a put on it!" Or something to that effect. It was initialed
KG. That would be Kendra Gooding, a customer relation's woman.
To inspire them to pee, the client was bringing his own brand of
imported beer. The were to drink just enough beer to get them pissing,
but not enough to stop them from cumming. One thing about this client,
Wade thought, he knows what he wants.
Wade put his OK on it.
Many guys, even some gals, had wanted the same pee-in-my-mouth thing
before. It was becoming a somewhat popular request. Water Sports they
called it. Perhaps, he thought, I should add it to our Website. As a
special feature. For the truly discriminating "taste"! An acquired
"taste" at that. Maybe with free beer tossed in. Hmmm. He tossed the
word "taste" around in his mind a few more times: "Taste this! It's piss!"
and "Don't be hasty, is tasty!" and his favorite . . . so far, "Piss
tastes like sweet that's been marinated in vinegar!" Classy, he
thought. Should appeal to the male crowd.
Pushing these thoughts from his mind, for now, Wade hollered over toward
Becky Ryan, his assistant cast coordinator, "Becky, how's Benny Gee coming
with those black from his crew for the prison bit? Showtime's at 8,
you know."
"No prob, Joe, Benny's got six big black prisoner-types all lined up and
ready to go. They'll be on the set at 7:30 sharp, awaiting further
instructions. No guy has less than eight inches, as the client requested."
Wade nodded as he turned back to his desk and put a check mark next to
5-6 black men. Good Benny Gee. He had never let him down. And he
knew Benny's crew would have no problems over down a white
boy's throat, either. No problems, whatsoever.
Wade wondered how Benny Gee checked out the crews' peckers for length
verification. Did he just take their word for it? Probably not. Knowing
Benny, and what a perfectionist he was, Wade pictured him, ruler in hand,
yelling "Next!" Wade made a mental note to ask Benny the next time he saw
him. Should be good for a laugh or two.
Wade had used Benny's crew many times before, especially with white
women, or not, who wanted to dabble with some exotic black meat.
Black gangbangs were hot right now, the "in" thing for bored, rich white
women to try out. And the gals always wanted the to be VWE, very well
endowed. were quickly jumping on the bandwagon, too. Yeah, Wade
thought, black cock was a hot ticket item right now.
Hell, at a recent cocktail party, he'd overheard a gorgeous,
white woman say, to four of her chichi girlfriends, "You'll never guess
what happened to me, girls! I was gangbanged last weekend by seven rough
virile black men." She winked at the and then whispered. "And, they
were so very well endowed, I'm still cumming! Tee hee."
With the crew on standby, and a rough-hewn "prison" setting in
place, this scenario was just about a done deal. All it needed now was the
star performer, the jailhouse "punk" kid who had a deep craving for
black dick, black cum, and a few quarts of beer-laden black piss.
Wade was surprised at how fast the humiliation scenario was catching on,
especially among straight white men. There seemed to be some need in them
to be totally subservient to other men. To be used, humiliated, debased, a
cum receptacle for rough and horny, manly type men. The being black
seemed to add to the humiliation picture.
And, Wade thought, it seemed to have more to do with a desire to lose,
or concede, some of their power than it had to do with any latent
tendencies. Similar to the CEO who goes to a hooker who specializes in
degradation techniques. "Spank me, Momma, I've been a naughty boy!" Yeah,
a psychologist could have a field day with this shit.
Wade didn't ponder any further the psychological aspect of this new
phenomenon. As far as he was concerned, whatever the reason, it was good
for the business.
Wade placed the "prison" assignment sheet face down on the works in
progress pile, entered the pertinent information into his computer, and
checked out the next fantasy request sheet.
Martha C., a 50ish white woman, gray hair, blue eyes, 5' 3" tall,
married. It was a thirtieth anniversary present from the hubby. Seems the
old gal had heard about glory holes and had found the idea sexually
irresistible. A real turn on for her. She wanted to experience what it
felt like to have 10 to 12 strange men, unseen by her, stick their cocks
through a in a wooden board and have her suck them off from the other
side. And, as she was a prominent citizen, there was to be of only
the side the were on. And, as hubby had put it, lots of close-ups,
please, especially of her lips and their cocks. Happy anniversary, my
dear! Enjoy!
The glory "set" was already checked off as they had done this
scenario many times before. It was quite popular, especially among
men. The guy was prepped and had his instructions. All that remained
was coming up with a gang of men. So far he had eleven "for sures" lined
up. Hubby had been quite adamant that it be at least ten, but preferably
twelve, if it could be managed. Money, he had said, was no object.
He would have tapped Benny Gee for a twelfth, but the husband had
stipulated that because this was his wife's first time with anyone but him,
he didn't want to take the chance on her panicking by introducing black
into the equation. Neither one of them were, he said, the least bit
prejudice, but, and in spite of her saying she wouldn't be upset by having
black present, he didn't want to take the chance. Wade understood.
He'd met this kind of weird reasoning before. Oh, well, he thought, it's
their party.
Wade knew they would accept the eleven he had, but if he could find a
twelfth, why not make them happy? Besides, he prided himself on his
ability to please a customer. And it meant an extra fee, which sure didn't
hurt the bottom line.
He'd volunteer himself except he had to play at being a Hell's Angel
type as part of a couple's "kidnap and gangbang" fantasy.
Complete with her hubby, tied up and gagged, watching it all take
place before his helpless eyes. And filmed, to be sure. A birthday
present from the hubby to his sweet, of one year.
The couple were to be "kidnapped" from an elevator in this very
building, blindfolded, and taken to studio 1, which had been set up to look
like a cheap saloon, complete with sawdust on the floor. With motorcycle
gang paraphernalia showing here and there, the scenario called for exactly
ten "gang" members, no more, no less. It, for some strange reason, had to
be exactly ten. Amazing, he thought, what is important to some folks.
The husband was to be trussed, hands and feet, with duct tape, and a
piece of it across his mouth as a gag. The was to be "gently" slapped
a few times and then forced to do a striptease to the song Born To Be Wild.
When her dance was done and she was totally nude, she was to get on her
knees, alongside hubby. The "gang" was to then form a circle around her
and the helpless hubby.
The gang was then to "slowly" strip naked and have her go from cock to
cock, clockwise around the circle, them all off until each one had
cum a load in her mouth. She was to spit each load into a large glass.
When the last load was in the glass, hubby's gag was to be removed and
he and she, taking turns, was to be made to drink the glass dry.
She was then going to be gang raped on a dirty bare mattress that
was lying on the sawdust floor. The couple was even going to supply the
mattress! Where they got the damned thing from, Wade could only wonder.
But it didn't surprise him that they had specified they wanted to take the
cum-soaked thing home with them.
The "gang" was to single, double, and triple penetrate the wifey. And
use her in any other way human creativity could dream up. For three full
days and nights. With breaks only for food, toilet, and whatnot. On days
two and three, the entire gang of ten was to be replaced with ten new guys.
Because this entailed having thirty available, Wade had tapped Benny
Gee, with approval from the clients, of course.
"Black, schmack!" the had said when asked about it. "As long as
they're rough and tough, I don't care." Wade now had eighteen white
and twelve black.
According to the couple's attached notes, they were still considering a
few other ideas. It read like a shopping list! Like whether or not hubby
should also get some motorcycle gang cock in his mouth and ass. Or if they
should be forced to have sex with each other on the dirty mattress, with
the gang cheering them on. If so, at what time during the action? Should
pissing take place? Should hubby be forced to masturbate? Etc, etc, etc.
These kids were in a quandary, faced the endless possibilities. They'd let
Wade know an hour before shoot time.
The weirder point, Wade noted, was no protection was to be used and the
wife was not on the pill. The couple had expressed their hopes that she
would become pregnant by one of the men, while never knowing which one.
Wade guessed the husband was barren and this was their way to have a
kid. Perhaps, he mused, they'd get a turn on every time they looked at the
child, a reminder of their kidnap and gangbang weekend. An FBI profiler
would probably call that taking a "souvenir" home with them. Ah, well,
Wade thought, different strokes for different folks. None of my beeswax. I
just gotta make 'em happy.
While trying to conjure up in his mind where he was going to get the
twelfth for the glory bit, he spotted Timmy Case, a new kid at the
firm. Why not? he thought. The kid could probably use the extra dough.
"Hey, Timmy, come over here a sec, willya?" Timmy sauntered over to
Wade's desk and stood there looking and restless. As he shifted his
weight from one foot to the other, he asked Wade, "What's up, boss?"
Wade had seen Timmy in filmed action of one of those popular
"innocent-girl-does-Dallas" fantasies where she takes on the entire
football team--in a locker room. An often-requested scenario. You could
have the "coach," thrown in, too--if it was so desired. This scenario had
many variations, such as coachie buys the a hooker for winning an
important game. Or, the innocent woman reporter, having crashed the locker
room for a scoop, gets so turned on . . . blah, blah.
In the film, the Case kid, wearing nothing but shoulder pads and a team
jersey, was seen to be hanging like a fucking horse! Twelve inches and as
thick around as the bottom of a Coke bottle.
And he was a heavy cummer, too, which was abundantly clear in the film,
and would be just what his glory couple had requested. Every guy was
to have not had an orgasm in at least a week. He wanted his better half to
have her first taste of other men's dished out in pints. Wade thought,
not like his usually smallish teaspoon spurts?
"You know what a glory is, dontcha?" he asked Timmy.
"Yeah, I know all about them. I was in that same scenario last month,
dontcha remember, boss?" Wade nodded even though he didn't remember it at
all.
"Good," Wade said. "When was the last time you ejaculated, Timmy?"
"What?"
"You heard me, bucko. When was the last time you shot your wad! Blew
your load. Spilled your seed. Popped your cocky. Get it?" Timmy nodded,
looking puzzled.
"Geez, boss, I don't know. Week or more, I guess. Why? You hungry?"
He laughed.
"Yeah, wise-ass," Wade said, giving Timmy a sham pissed-off look. "Put
it on my next salad, will you? And hold the mayo. No, dumbfuck . . . I
need a guy for a glory scenario for tonight, in Studio 2 at 9 pm. You
available, dumbshits--yes or no?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I have nothing better lined up. What's the poop?"
"Old gal wants to suck off a dozen through the hole. Hubby won't
be there. He wants her to feel free to totally enjoy herself without any
guilt splashing on her by his presence. He'll enjoy the tape later, I
guess. With or without her . . . who knows? Oh, be there at 8:30, no
later than 8:45. Studio 2. Got it?" Timmy nodded as Wade waved his hand
in a gesture of dismissal.
As Timmy walked away, Wade called out, "And, Timmy? Don't drop any
loads until tonight, kid; the hubby wants her to have nothing but
mouthfuls, not dribs and drabs. OK?"
Timmy yelled back over his shoulder, "Don't worry, boss, I'll give her a
load so big she'll think she's gonna drown!" Timmy snapped his fingers in
the air and did a little dance step by clicking his heels together.
Wade thought, as he watched Timmy depart, so and dumb and fulla
cum! Oh, to be his age again. Oh, well, I'll enjoy that young, and oh so
innocent, tonight. Happy birthday, wifey, and by the way, here's a
baby!
As he thought, he realized he hadn't in a few days himself. Well,
he'd give the bitch a nice mouthful for sure, and, while he was at
it, maybe a facial, too. Give her hubby something to really watch.
Shit, he was getting hard just thinking about it. Back to work, Wade,
old boy, he reminded himself, tonight will take care of itself. And, he
thought, if I really enjoy the woman, I'll stay all three days! They might
not even notice me, but I'll put on a simple disguise, just in case. He'd
bet dollars to donuts that no one would notice that, on days two and three,
there were now eleven on the field! And, if the couple bitched, well,
he'd just have to send one of the other packing now, wouldn't he?
Shit, Timmy thought, double shit. He had arrived on time, early in
fact, but the elevator had gotten stuck between floors. Again. Third time
in a week. He was now waiting for Charlie, the night manager, to free
him from this predicament.
"Come on, Charlie," he said out loud. "You lazy fuck, where are you? I
ain't got all night, you dumb shit. Move your ass, dummo!"
"Hold your fucking horses, sonny! And your fucking tongue! Or I'll
leave your raggedy ass in there 'til Monday morning and you can just go and
piss and crap in your socks!" It was Charlie.
"Sorry, Charlie," Timmy said. "But I'm late for studio 2."
"Then you don't have a problem, kiddo. They have you down as guy number
nine. You got plenty of time. True, the gal has already finished off
the first guy and by now she's probably polished off dude number two and
has number three halfway home. From what I heard, she gives such great
head, they rest will drop like flies!" Charlie giggled.
Timmy knew Charlie loved to watch the scenarios and probably beat
his pud at the same time, too. And, now and then, when an guy was
called for, Charlie didn't hesitate to volunteer his services. He
protested that he only did it for the extra cash, but no one believed that
bullshit. Christ, Charlie would actually drool when fucking some
girl who was living out her fantasy of screwing an fart. Charlie had
fucked one so hard, for so long, she couldn't walk right away
and had to be helped out to her car by her boyfriend. Covered in
Charlie's sweat.
And, if truth be told, and film never lies, Charlie had a thick,
seven inch plus weapon that he knew how to put to good use. Strictly for
the cash, of course.
Timmy thanked Charlie for rescuing him and the two of them walked the
short distance to studio 2. The On Air sign was lit up signifying that
video was now being shot. Charlie used his magnetic keycard to open the
door and stepped aside to let Timmy enter first.
Charlie was right. The gal had polished off guy number two and was
working to beat the band on guy number three. He could see her bright,
ruby lips through the 4" in the plywood board that had been
propped up against an open closet. They were wrapped around a thickset
penis at the moment and were illuminated by the "cathouse" light bulb
on her side of the board.
Timmy could hear slurping and noises coming out of her. The
moans she let out also told him she was really into it and thoroughly
enjoying herself as she away.
The cameraman was down on his knees getting a close up of the glory
hole; obviously taking a shot that was tight in on cock and lips. Hubby,
Timmy thought, should love that one.
Guy's numbers one and two were the only ones with their pants on. They
had to wait until the scenario was fully over, just in case there were
camera problems. All the other were naked from the waist down, with
only their socks on, and in various stages of getting hard. All were
playing with their cocks and balls in anticipation of their turn at batting
practice.
The smell of male sex, of male musk, permeated the studio. And, for
inspiration, three different fuck films were playing, their sound muted, on
three individual DVD sets.
Timmy shed his pants and underwear and, despite of, and under Charlie's
gaze, started playing with his penis. He might be ninth, but it paid to
plan ahead. One never knew if the in front of him might not be struck
down by some unheard of heart attack epidemic and he'd be pressed into
urgent service. If he was to be the one to save the day, he didn't want to
be caught short, so to speak.
As he stroked his fat piece of manhood and felt it swelling up, he
noticed a large drop of precum on the tip. Shit, he thought, I got a lot
of it in me! Charlie, ever vigilant, handed him a moist towlette. He had
no sooner wiped the tip than another glob popped out. Hell, he was just
oozing and bleeding cum!
"Geez, kid," Charlie said, his eyes opened wide than usual. "You've got
some big bat there! And it's leaking something fierce!"
"Yeah, Charlie, it was a gift from my parents."
Charlie sniggered and said, "Well, kid, too bad they couldn't find one
that didn't drip so much!" He laughed. Timmy chose to ignore this
witticism.
Guy number three started moaning and sounded as if he was close to
unloading his spunk. Timmy could see the guy clearly under the studio
lights as he moved his hips in and out and mouth fucked the ruby lips.
Then the guy yelled, "Oh, yeah, here it comes, Momma! Get ready for a
fucking throat bath!" The guy jerked his hips spasmodically as he shot his
wad. Timmy could hear gurgling sounds coming from behind the wooden board
as the woman swallowed the guy's plentiful bursts of cum. The guy had
spasmed so violently it looked as if he was trying to fuck the plywood
board. Or falling in love with it.
As the guy turned, Timmy could see still dripping from the guy's
cockhead and falling silently onto the tile floor. Charlie saw it too and
wasted no time. He went over to where the glistened on the tiles and,
using a handiwipe, adroitly mopped it up. Good Charlie. Always Johnny
on the spot.
When he rejoined Timmy, Charlie said, "Can't have no one slipping on
that shit now, can we?" He was a real dedicated team player, that
Charlie. Always watching out for the company.
Timmy and Charlie watched as five more men, one after the other, put
their large, hardened pricks through the and blew their nut's weeks
worth into the lips and very eager mouth.
And she sure knew how to suck cock. From Timmy's angle, he could see
her deep-throating each one of the men. And, to prevent them from merely
shooting their down her gullet, the woman would, as each guy yelled
he was going to cum, scoot her lips back to where only the head was in her
mouth. She must really love the taste, Timmy thought.
Remarks were heard throughout. It was part of the overall script. They
were ordered to make the gal feel very appreciated by some ad-libbing.
"Man, she's one fantastic cocksucker!"
"Oh, yeah, she gives a great blowjob! Best I've ever had!"
"Did she deep-throat you, too?"
"Yeah, and I gave her a gallon of hot cum!"
Funny, Timmy thought, these don't sound as if they're ad-libbing.
Finally, it was Timmy's turn. Watching the films and watching the
with the lips had had its effect on him. He was raring to go. Christ,
precum had formed on his dick at least a half dozen times all ready. He
wiped his cock tip with the towlette one last time and headed toward the
board.
As he walked, his foot-long prick proudly displayed and wobbling in the
air, he heard one of the whisper loudly, "Wow! There ain't no way
she's gonna deep-throat that fucking monster!"
Timmy didn't think so, either. No woman, to date, had been able to take
more than the head and maybe an inch beyond. The one woman who had dared
to go past that "no-woman's land" point had upchucked an entire
meal in his lap. Surely, no woman was going to be the first, no matter
how good Charlie or the said she was. Life, Timmy thought, just don't
work like that.
Timmy placed his full, and now very rigid, 12" erection through the
hole. He heard her gasp and whisper from the other side, "Holy cow, is that
thing for real?"
Timmy chose not to answer. He just stood there waiting to be off
by Mrs. Lips. He didn't have to wait long. She started by reaching
through the and pulling his huge balls into it. Then she was fondling
his humongous prick with both hands. Then she pulled on it, poked it,
prodded it, licked precum off the tip, until, finally, he felt her wet, hot
mouth around his cockhead. It felt fantastic to him.
He was surprised that she had no trouble taking his huge width to a
point a few inches past the ridge. Past the "no woman's land." That was
indeed a first. What a mouth on this broad, he thought.
She probably had at least six inches in her mouth and some had to be
down her throat. He was amazed at it all. And feverishly turned on by it.
So much so that he felt the tip of his dick twitch, tingle, and leak more
precum juice.
Then she really surprised him. She took him all the way down to where
only two inches remained between her lips and his pubic hair. She had ten
inches of his unbelievably wide cock in her mouth and down her throat. He
couldn't believe it.
Timmy looked down. He could see the lips greatly stretched around
his huge prick. The sight of it made him even hotter. He could also hear
her heavy breathing.
He slowly moved in closer, pressing his groin into the hole. Then, she
did it! He felt the lips move forward, slowly, quarter inch by quarter
inch, until he could feel her nose press against his belly. Then, she
pressed forward even further until not only had her lips reached his pubic
hairs, she was actually pressing them into his groin. It was unreal.
He turned his head to the right and screamed, over his shoulder, "Man,
oh man, she's got it all, right down to my nutsack!" There was a short
burst of applause by the group of onlookers. Then, a sudden hush.
She then started working his cock like a pro, perhaps even better. She
varied the pressure, varied the speed, and varied her tongue movements,
giving him the best cocksucking he'd ever had in his entire life.
She'd work the head, then deep-throat him. Plunge! Right down on it.
Then she would scoot back up to the head and lavish it with a tongue and
lip bath. Then, bam! Right down to the fur again.
It was unreal and unbelievable to him. He started mouth fucking her,
slowly, timing it to agree with her head movements. They soon had a good
rhythm going. She was being mouth-fucked by the biggest prick she'd ever
seen and the greatest he'd ever known was him off.
Mouth and cock. Cock and mouth. He didn't know where he began and she
left off. All he could hear was her moaning and slurping noises as she
sucked him and drove him to a level of pleasure he had never ever
experienced.
He found himself moaning out loud, too. The hush remained over the
studio as the just stared, mesmerized, at the lewd and lascivious scene
taking place mere feet from their eyes. Timmy glanced to the side and saw
the cameraman coming in for a supreme close up. The guy looked
shell-shocked, his mouth agape.
Mrs. Lips worked his dick for another few minutes or so and then
Timmy was ready. He tried to fight it, to hold it back, to prolong the
exquisite pleasure, the wonderful sensations, but he knew it was hopeless.
He knew the end was near when he felt his cockhead start to swell up.
Trying to reverse it now was impossible.
Thus, with a yell, he let the dam burst. "Ooohwee! Oooh-fucking-wee!"
A week's worth of just poured out of him, after after
spurt. It came from his balls, but it felt to him as if it was pouring out
of his very soul. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He heard her,
on the other side, struggling to his copious deluge.
She gulped audibly each time she swallowed. He would fill her mouth and
then refill it, again and again. Four times in all. With her gurgles and
gulps, and frequent moans, adding to his overall pleasure.
Finally, he was finished. She continued to suck his cock, vacuuming
him, moaning as she did, and getting every last drop as if it was the most
precious liquid in the world. Then, as she took her lips off of his
deflating prick, he heard her whisper, "Thank you, man, that was
unbelievable! I came four times just your magnificent prick and
swallowing . . . oooh, make that five times!" Timmy giggled.
Fully drained, he staggered back a few feet. He turned to the other
men, glassy eyed, and whispered, "Did you see that? She took it all!
What a fucking she gives! Man, I wanna marry the bitch!" The
laughed. Charlie laughed.
Now, being on staff, unlike the other guys, Timmy could have left the
scene right then and there, had he chose. But he wanted to get a look-see
at the only woman to ever take his entire coke-bottle-size dick completely
down her throat. So, he put on his shorts and pants and went over to join
old Charlie.
Charlie just stared at him and looked as if he was in shock.
"Holy shit, Timmy," Charlie mumbled. "That was one helluva show! I
ain't ever seen anything like it . . . well, 'cept that little woman in
Puerto Rico who swallowed a donkey's seventeen inch pecker . . . but that
old donkey was a lot thinner than your fat salami."
Timmy laughed and said, "Charlie, this broad can suck my cock any
time she want to! Anytime at all!"
Charlie laughed and said, "Guess that's why you're hangin' around, eh?
Looking to set up a rematch?"
Timmy didn't answer. He simply grinned at Charlie.
The two of them just stood there and watched as the last three got
their rocks off. However, after Timmy's fantastic episode, it all seemed
anticlimactic. Yawn.
After guy number twelve had unloaded his sizeable wad into the talented
red lips, all the stayed around instead of splitting, which would have
been more usual. They also wanted to get a look at the spectacular and
unbelievable salami swallower.
As the cameraman closed up shop and departed, still looking dazed, Timmy
went over and removed the plywood board. There she was, lips and all,
head bowed downward, still kneeling, as if not sure she was done, with
dangling from her chin and from her bright ruby lips. As she ran a
hand through her hair, Timmy could see stains on the chest of her silk
blouse. It was obvious that some parts of the loads, as large as they
were, had escaped her lips. Understandable, he thought.
All the guys, Charlie included, stood up and broke out in a
deafening applause. She bowed her head down further and smiled, gracefully
accepting the standing ovation. Then, she raised her head and looked up
toward Timmy.
When the moment of recognition hit them both, Timmy could have been
knocked over with the proverbial feather.
"M-m-mom!" was all he could manage to hoarsely squeak out.
"Timmy! Oh, dear me!" was all she could say as a deafening roar of
laughter filled studio 2 all the way to the rafters. The group of men,
seeing the look of anger on Timmy's face, quickly hushed it up. No point
in angering a staff guy, was there?
Charlie was the first, the only one who dared, to break the pregnant
silence.
As Charlie handed the woman a moist towlette to wipe the from her
face, he said, gleefully, "Timmy? If your needs a lift home, I'd be
only too glad to take her!"
Timmy turned and looked at Charlie. Charlie was grinning from ear
to ear. Timmy scowled at Charlie, but then, suddenly, his face changed.
He now smiled at the black man. Shit, he thought, why am I getting
pissed? So my a bunch of dudes and me off. So fucking what?
Who was he to judge? She had obviously enjoyed herself. He sure had. The
guys had, too. Why shouldn't Charlie get a shot?
"Why not?" Timmy said lightly. "If it's okay with mom, it's okay with
me. Charlie, I'd like you to meet my mom, Martha." He turned toward her.
"Mom, say hello to Charlie."
She and Charlie said their respective and very polite hellos.
Lordy, Timmy thought, you'd think they were at a formal cocktail party
instead of a completed glory scenario.
Martha eyed the up and down and no one there could miss
her extra long glance at the very large bulge now clearly visible in
Charlie's chino workpants.
"Why not?" she said cheerfully. "After this surprise, I could sure use
me a nightcap!"
Then, she turned to Timmy. "Would you call your and tell him I'm
bringing a . . . colorful . . . , " She winked at Charlie, " . . .
surprise home! And tell him to warm up the camcorder! OK, Timothy?"
"Sure, mom. Oh, before I forget, don't forget to take this tape. It's
yours now, you know. Of course, you might want me to have it edited to
take me, uh, us, out of it. Don't want to upset dad, you know, and maybe
give him a heart attack."
"No need, Timothy. Your will understand the mistake. It could
have happened to anyone. Besides, he's very broadminded. After all, it
was his idea that I, uh, do a bunch of from behind a glory to
fulfill a fantasy of mine."
Timmy nodded. "OK, mom, whatever you say." He still felt a tad strange.
Timmy's and Charlie walked out arm in arm with Charlie
grinning like a black Cheshire cat. Timmy turned to the remaining and
said, "What the fuck you looking at? Don't you know it's quitting
time? Get out of here, before I start kicking ass and taking names." The
guys left in a hurry. A while later, Timmy followed, his phone call to dad
completed. He dowsed the studio lights, as was the rule for last one out.
As Timmy stood outside the door to studio 2, he had weird thoughts and
pictures coursing through his brain. He couldn't get the vision of those
ruby lips off all those cocks, his included, out of his head.
And, her moans! Her audible swallowing! Her hot, wet mouth deep-throating
him, swallowing his cum. Brrr, he thought, that's way too vivid!
Shit, it was after all, wasn't it? Mom, for crissakes! And what,
he wondered, was she going to be doing with black Charlie later on
tonight? He could those lips on Charlie's black 7" plus cock.
Gulping down Charlie's cum. He could also picture, also way too
vividly, Charlie, Charlie for crissakes, fucking her like a in
heat. Drooling and sweating all over her as he banged her into the
mattress until she had trouble walking and needed help just to go the
bathroom.
And what about dad, dear dad? What would he be doing while Charlie
was being off by mom? Probably running the camera! Too many
possibilities flooded his head. He had seen too many scenarios on film
where he worked, so nothing really surprised him, but now he felt he had
just a tad more information than he wanted to have about the folks. The
fact that they had human needs and desires might have placated him, but it
hadn't yet. Perhaps, he thought, in time.
But he didn't want to think about the future now, not really, but he
sure as shit had had the best deep-throat of his entire life. And,
since even a president had once said that oral sex wasn't really sex at
all, and most of the world had agreed, what would think if . . . and
they had the board between them . . . or . . . he pushed the lewd
thoughts out of his head. Tomorrow would take care of itself. As he
walked toward the elevator he knew he'd have trouble sleeping tonight.
And worse than that, he thought, it would be all over the fucking office
tomorrow! How his had swallowed her baby boy's big salami . . .
along with his wee-wee squirt-squirt! Along with eleven other guy's
wee-wee squirt-squirts! Lordy, lordy. He could see it coming! This was,
he thought, truly the time that tries men's souls.
Shit, he thought, maybe I should just up and quit and go live in a cave
somewhere. He even thought of breaking into Wade's office and stealing the
automatically sent backup copy of tonight's episode off of Wade's computer,
but he knew a further backup copy of the tape was also now on Wade's home
PC. And who knew where else? Damn backups! Who's stupid idea had it been
originally, anyway?
Then, he thought, fuck 'em! Fuck 'em all! This is the year 2030 after
all and weirder shit than this was now commonplace. And it was an honest
mistake, wasn't it? With that thought in mind he headed for home and
promised himself not to think about Charlie, or mom, or dear, dad,
for at least the rest of the night. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
If it was at all possible, that is, not to think about it. Somehow
Timmy didn't think it was, for even as he stepped onto the elevator, he
felt his baby salami stirring, brought to life by the image of those
ruby lips. They kept floating around in his head. He sighed and
pressed the lobby button. Tomorrow would take care of itself. As dreadful
as it promised to be.
He could hear Wade now . . . damn it!
Studio 2 was now back to being an empty, darkened space once more.
All ready for the next FantasySex.Com scenario, whatever that was to be
and whoever was to be in it. Studio 2 didn't care who they were or what
they did, or even if they were blood kin.
And Studio 2 certainly didn't care about tomorrow. Or today, either,
for that matter.
End. FantasySex.Com.