J Long: The town sluts

"Oh Wendell. Feel my gloved hand on your big fat cock. Feel my hand go up and down, up and down on your prick. And I've got a big dildo here to shove in your ass. Here, take this and this and this. Oooooooh, I can't wait to suck your big fat prick. Can't wait to make your cock all hot so I can put out the flames of your passion with my hungry mouth."

What the fuck was going on here?

Becky Jane was astounded. Unbelievable!

The only thing she could believe was the dildo that was fucking her cunt as she was on all fours beneath Wendell's perverted oak desk. And she knew that was real because it reminded her of the dildo that her mother had given her on her twelfth birthday with the warning: "That's the only cock I ever wanna see in your cunt, Becky Jane. I don't wanna know you've been fucked by a man until you're ready to be fucked by a man. Meanwhile shove that into your fucking hot box and just thank me for keeping you from getting pregnant or catching syphilis."

"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee! My prick! God! My prick's being strangled!Stop! Oh God! Stop!"

But the loudspeaker voice didn't want his prick to stop being strangled.

"Oooooooh, Wendell. Your prick feels so good in my gloved hand. And what's this? Ooooooooh, your prick has such a big head! Here, let me squeeze your big prickhead!"

"Aaaaaaaihhheeeeeef!"

Becky Jane started to moan because the fucking dildo wouldn't let up. Wouldn't let her up so that she could get out of this fucking weirdo office. Because the eight-inch plastic prick was starting to buzz and vibrate in her pussy. And she liked the buzzing and vibrating except the fucking thing just wasn't big enough, not round enough. Shit, it was made for assholes not cunts.

Then, as Wendell flopped in his chair like a man being electrocuted, his knee slammed against three or four buttons.

First the gloved fist retracted.

Then Wendell couldn't struggle any more because his arms were shackled to the swivel chair. The metallic bonds clasped over his wrists and elbows were like stainless-steel claws.

Then his head was slammed back in the chair as the cushion slid up and away like an old-fashioned roll-top desk and three thousand suction cups were planted on his back, keeping him plastered to the chair.

Then Wendell knew he had had it. Knew that the buttons he had pushed were for those secretaries who wouldn't let him fuck around with them. And it was for those moments when he would coax those reluctant secretaries to sit in his chair to rest their feet and he would push those same buttons that kept them immobile, enslaved in a chair that did degrading things to their bodies.

Degrading things like the rubber cups that were attached to telescoping arms that came from beneath the seat. Two big rubber cups that moved like mouths, two rubber cups that descended on his chest and started sucking his breasts.

"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee! Oh God! Stopit! Help me, Becky!"

Becky didn't know what the fuck to do. The smoke at Wendell's prick had dissipated and for the first time she could see what was going on in front of her.

She was amazed.

His body looked like it was being thrust in a rocket chair, the skin and flesh pulled back under the force of seven G's.

And his arms were pinned to the armrests by shiny metallic shackles. The same type that were wrapped around his thighs and ankles.

And two plunger-like cups that were attached to a mechanical octopus were on his tits, tearing his Manhattan shirt to ribbons with powerful suction.

And then she couldn't look any more. Because the fucking dildo had started a circular movement in her pussy. A movement that revolved all around her cunt, touching all the slippery sides and brushing erotically against her cit.

"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oohhhhhhh, Goddddddd!"

Wendell's face looked as if it would have a perpetual grimace on it because of the suctioning power of those three thousand tentacle things on his back.

And his chest was being made to look like a pair of female tits as the rubber cups gripped his nipples tightly and started pulling them away from the surrounding flesh.

Wendell started to cry. Started to curse that fucking Eula Peters for having done the interior decorating of his plush office. He vowed revenge as he sat there helpless with his tits becoming two inches longer and that mechanical dildo trying to make a cunt out of his cock.

What?!

No! No! No!

"Aaaahhieeeee! My balls! The fucking thing's stabbing my balls!"

Becky looked up, roused from her dildo fuck by the dildo fuck that was taking place a foot from her face.

God! A huge dildo had sprung out of the seat cushion and was jabbing into Wendell's balls.

Then she watched wide-eyed as a second dildo joined the first, a slightly smaller one that was half as wide but just as long. That one was meant for asshole. She knew it was meant for asshole because it had the same shape as the one in her cunt.

She watched the dildo slither into Wendell's ass, tearing through his slacks. She heard him scream.

"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeee! Oh God! My ass! My ass! My ass!"

Then the dildo that was sparring with his cock and balls began to spew warm enriched milk all over Wendell's bruised balls.

The dildo in his ass was jabbing in and out, in and out, in the same rhythm as the dildo that was jabbing in and out of Becky Jane's pussy as she knelt on all fours wondering what the fuck was going on.

Then the gloved hand came back into her view. Only it no longer had the fingers in a cock-grip. This time it gripped a puffy white towel. The mechanical hand began to clean up the enriched milk smeared all over Wendell's balls and cock as he writhed in agony.

Then something like Kaopectate was spewing out of Wendell's ass, making a moist mess of his pants.

"Oh God! It's over! Oh God! My balls! My ass! Oh God!"

Then the same feeling suddenly rushed over Becky Jane as she felt that dildo shoot jets of warm enriched milk into her cunt.

"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee! Oh God! That feels so fucking good!Aaaiiieeee!"

Then she collapsed.

Wendell did, too. Because the rubber cups had retracted and the suction cups on his back had once again become a warm comfy cushion, and the shackles had slid back to become armrests once again.

"Oh mercy God!"

Becky Jane moaned. Bumped her head on the desk top as she back-tracked her way from underneath the desk. Careful not to push any more perverted buttons. Avoiding the mirror that still jutted from the secret paneling in the rug.

And, as her pussy passed over the mirror, she could see enriched milk oozing out of her cunt from the hole in her lemon-yellow panties.

Collie Flowers was seventy-two years of age.

He thought he was young. He also thought he was lucky. When a person's seventy-two years of age, death could come in strange ways. A nosebleed could drain them of their one pint of blood. Some oldsters just simply rolled over on their stomachs in bed and exerted too much pressure on their hearts. Others simply had coronaries when they got excited – like at their birthday parties, or when someone remembers them and sends them a Valentine, or when they're thinking about what it felt like to fuck.

He was very lucky. Because he got to do what other old people only remember feebly, fucking.

Yes, he was very lucky.

Most seventy-two-year-olds have wrinkled skin, like parchment for flesh. Cullen did have a parched face, withered lips, sallow complexion and plenty of dead spots on the flesh of his cheeks.

But there was one place on his body that wasn't wrinkled. One special place tat was still as smooth as a cue ball.

That was his prick.

Cullen had always thought that somebody up there had always liked him because he was blessed with good health and a cock that should have looked more like an over baked worm than a hunk of bologna.