J Long: The town sluts

Wendell didn't know what to do other than to do what she had said. No woman had ever talked to him like that. So, he moved around her, his pants hobbling his efforts.

The bowling-ball hand felt around his crotch until it found his cock. Which took about two seconds search. Then it gave his prick a couple more of those frigging strokes to make sure it was hard and ready to fuck her ass.

God! He was going to fuck her in the ass! Wendell couldn't believe it until he actually saw her gripping his cock and leading him to the upper of the two holes. And the hole looked so tight and narrow.

What was he doing?! This was crazy!

Nobody fucked their secretaries in the ass on her first day on the job. Blow jobs, he could see, but buggering? Sticking his cock up that tight tube of her rectum?

Wendell broke out in a sweat. His cockhead was perched against her asshole, ready to move forward, ready to penetrate the first asshole he had ever fucked. Oh God! What delicious sensations he felt all around the head of his prick.

He was ready now. Ready to shove forward with all his might. Ready to cram that delicious-looking asshole full of his cock.

But Carlotta beat him to the punch. Took advantage of his cowardly hesitation by ramming her rear end against his loins, which caused the following delicious sensations. His cock felt like it was fucking a fleshy keyhole, but the keyhole expanded around the taut glans of his prick before it accepted the acorn-shaped head. Then her asshole bit down just behind the groove of his glans, ready to nibble on his cock-shaft. Then her asshole nibbled on his cock-shaft, all seven hot and hard inches, until her ass-crack was filled with the hairs of his crotch and her asshole was full of seven inches of ass-fucking prick.

"Oooooh, you bugger! You've done this before! You've fucked a lot of chicks in the asshole! You asshole! Jesus! You're pretty good at fucking asses!"

Crazy! Insane! Asinine! She had to be because Wendell hadn't done a fucking thing. He hadn't shoved his cock into her asshole, she had forced her asshole onto his cock. He wasn't shoving back and forth in her rectum, her rectum was jamming back and forth on his cock like a mare with her asshole in heat.

Wendell watched her ass moving back and forth on his cock. Wendell also sweated. Wendell was amazed. And to make things better, Wendell also heard erotic sounds and words as he watched and sweated and became even more amazed.

"Now, here's how an asshole can really fuck the shit out of a cock like yours. First, I'll muscle down and pretend your cock's a huge turd."

"Aaaaaiilieeee! Oh My God!"

"Then I'll relax and pretend I farted you out. But here comes another big turd! So I gotta force this one out too!"

"Oooooooh! My God! Please Walt! Oh God!"

"And another turd!"

"Aaaaaiiiheeeee! Oh stop! Your asshole feels so gggooooodddddddammmmmmnnnn good! Please don't grip my cock like that – I'll come to soon!"

"All right, all right. I understand. It's probably been a long lime between ass-fucks, right, Mr. Rathers?"

Wendell was as quiet as a statue. Because his body had become like a statue's. Stock still. Not wanting to move because he couldn't believe the incredible sensations that surrounded his cock. Couldn't believe that asshole-fucking was as good as cunt-fucking. Couldn't believe the way his balls felt as she played with them as if she owned them.

Playing with his balls?

While her ass fucked his cock?

"Ooooooh,nooooo! Easy! Please! God! Don't do that yet! I swear I'll come! I swear it!"

Then her ass took off into fourth gear and her buns went into overdrive. She was really hauling her ass while she played with his swaying balls, toying with the hairy orbs.

Carlotta moaned, then groaned, then went back to moans because she loved getting her ass fucked by an expert ass-fucker like Mr. Rathers. He was really good. Probably a nine on a scale of ten. Probably in the top ten percent of all the asshole-fuckers in class. Probably a B-plus in Ass-Fucking II, a lower-division course taught to liberal arts majors about the inner workings of man's anatomical structure.

"God! Mr. Rathers! You're so good at ass-fucking! Jesus Christ! I can feel all of your prick in my ass! And your balls are getting so fucking uptight! Are you ready to come?!"

Was he ready to come!

Shit, that mess leaking out of her ass wasn't the remains of some Ex-Lax she had eaten. The stuff leaking out of her asshole was very white, and gluey and sticky. So sticky that it stuck to the hairs on his balls before dripping to the carpet.

Was he ready to come!

When a man yells: "Aaarrrggghhhhh!" and his prick is going spurt, spurt, spurt, what other conclusion could be drawn?

"Ooooooohhhhhh! Jesus! Shoot that shit in my ass! Shoot it hard! Oh God! I can feel every inch with my ass! God, I'mgoing to use my ass muscles again!"

"Aaaaaiiiheeeee! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

And the reason Wendell had said, "Oh God!" three times was because Carlotta's ass muscles had gripped his prick three times, and thee times his cock went spurt, spurt, spurt while he moaned, "Oh God!" three times.

Then the last spurt was squeezed out of his cock like the dregs from a tube of toothpaste. Only it wasn't a hand that was squeezing the tube of his cock but an asshole that was very good at fucking pricks.

Wendell collapsed backward, and his cock sprang out of her asshole, which then sealed itself up like a clam.

"ooooohhhhh! Jesus! It feels like my ass is full of air!" Ffffaaaarrrrrrtttttt!

Ramona Rathers looked at her tits. For the last three days she had been looking at her tits very carefully, lifting them up (they were very heavy tits to lift because they were thirty-eight-inchers) and trying to see beneath them (which was a hard thing to do because she had thirty-eight-inch tits that were very pointy and very firm).

The reason why she was looking at her tits was not because she was anticipating that one of her lovers was going to come over and start sucking them. Or that she had any babies who wanted to suckle at her nipples for three hours. She was looking at her titties because they were about to be exposed to national TV.

Ramona hoped that the nation would appreciate her tits. Because a lot of people in Weedley – mostly guys – appreciated her tits.

Bernard Drew, the milkman, had described her tits as: "Wow! Real bra-busters!"

Lance Peters, son of Ramona's best friend Eula Peters, called them: "Uuuummmmm, gooooood milkshakes!" He hadn't learned to say tit yet because he was only eighteen.

Kirby Mosher, Wendell Rathers' best foreman down at the wrench factory, always described Ramona as: "Super Boobs!"

Ramona wondered what the nation would think of them.

Then she remembered what Ricardo Franklin had called them when she had gone down to the television station and had exposed her titties to him. He had said that her titties were "… ah, er, just beautiful, Mrs. Rathers."

So that's what that fart had called them: "just beautiful."

What the hell was just beautiful?

Just beautiful didn't mean glorious, or divine, or superb. It was' like just ugly, or just simple, or just another set of tits.

Ramona had gotten very mad when W. Franklin, producer of many TV documentaries, had called her tits just beautiful. Because Ramona knew that her tits belonged on TV. Deserved to be shown on the boob tube in front of twenty million women who were concerned with breast cancer.

That was why Ramona had gone down to station KKKQ in the first place.

She knew that Ricardo was going to do a half-hour documentary on breast cancer and that for the first time on public broadcasting they were going to show millions of women how to examine their breasts for any warts, lumps, smears, scars, wounds, bruises and bites that might indicate the first warning sign of breast cancer.