J Long: The town sluts

Ramona applied rouge to her nipples. Then Jergens Lotion all over her massive tits to make them look all shiny and glisteny when twenty thousand Weedley folks stared at them on the boob tube.

Bernard Drew got a big hard-on as he watched the TV set. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Christ, it had taken him four month's wages, accumulated down at the Arrowhead Dairy where he worked as a milkman, to earn the Japanese TV set with the twenty-four-inch screen.

Now, his Japanese TV set with the twenty-four-inch screen was filled with the awesome sight of a pair of firm and thrusting tits.

At first Bernie thought he was seeing things. Thought he was imagining that it was some kind of joke, like maybe it was the head-on shot of the two Goodyear blimps as they mated in midair. Or maybe it was some ambidextrous quarterback for the San Diego Chargers who had flung two pigskins directly at the camera.

No! Those were tits on the screen. In vibrant, living, twenty-four-inch color.

Bernie knew they were tits because they didn't have the hard metallic look of a blimp, nor did they look like they were filled with helium. And they weren't like footballs because they didn't have Johnny Unitas' autograph near the seams. In fact, this pair of tits on his boob tube looked very familiar.

Had he seen them somewhere?

God! Those tits! Those tits were the same ones he had laid eyes on three weeks ago when he was making his Tuesday-morning milk run in the Belvedere section of Weedley.

Bernie knew they were the same tits because the left tit sagged lower than the right one. And the nipples looked very huge. Of course, the first time he had seen them they were hidden under a sweater made of cheetah fur. And there was only one woman in Weedley who wore cheetah fur sweaters.

Bernie's hard-on pulsed like crazy in his coveralls. Shit, he had just sat down to watch the Buffalo Bills playing the San Diego Chargers, and he was changing stations when that pair of tits had arrested his attention as if they were two Hindenburg's floating side by side.

Bernie' looked over his shoulder, saw that his wife Imogene was busy making chocolate-chip cookies in the kitchen.

Should he tell her what he was looking at? Should he tell her to come out of the Goddamn kitchen and take a gander at a pair of tits that were out of this world? Should he tell her to fuck the chocolate chips and come see what a pair of delicious-looking tits a woman should have – the kind of tits that his wife should have?

No, he didn't dare.

Imogene was very sensitive about her tits. They were only thirty-sixes. And Imogene was very sensitive about any remarks that Bernie made about them.

Like their wedding night, when he had just finished fucking her mouth after he had just finished fucking her cunt after he had just finished fucking her ass, and he had asked in a very polite tone of voice if he could fuck her between her thirty-six-inch titties.

And Imogene had said: "What the hell do you think I am? A pervert? That's nasty!"

So Bernie had gotten very pissed. Because two of the reason why he had married Imogene were because of what she sported on her chest. She had very firm tits that were sensitive to his mouth but not to the adjectives that he used to describe them.

"But, Genie-baby, you gotta pair of fuckable tits. Really. I never fucked a pair of tits like yours. Come on, who's it gonna hurt?"

"You?"

"I mean my tits."

"Aw shit! Did it hurt when I stuck my cock in your mouth?"

"No. But I like to suck your cock. Besides that stuff you shoot out kinda tastes like crushed walnuts."

"Double shit. Did it hurt when I fucked your cunt?"

"No. But I like you to fuck my cunt. That's where you're supposed to fuck me, Bernie. Because my cunt's shaped like a hole. And my tits aren't."

"Bullshit! And I know it didn't hurt when I fucked your ass."

"Yeah, but I like you to fuck my ass. It feels… uh, different. You know?"

"Genie, how the fuck would I know what it feels like to get fucked in the ass. I'm not a fucking fag."

"Well, if you think getting fucked in the ass by a cock is perverted, then I think that your idea about fucking my tits is perverted. I just don't go for the idea of having all your stuff wasted on my tits. Your stuff is supposed to go inside of me somewhere. That's why your cock's shaped like… er, like a penetrator. And that's why a woman has a bunch of holes in her body; I mean, like if I had a hole in my armpit, I'd let you fuck me there."

"Huh? Genie, you don't make any fucking sense!"

"See! I knew it! I just knew we weren't made for each other. My mother said you'd be the kind of guy who was gabby and always wanted his own way. Oh, God, why'd I marry you! Why'd I say I do today?"

Bernie sighed as he watched Imogene, his wife of four hours, cry her fucking brains out because she thought he was a gabby guy who always wanted his own way.

Shit, how did she find out so soon?

Bernie sat up in his wedding bed, threw off the semen-stained sheets, and stared at his wife.

"So, Genie, you think I'm a gabby guy. Is that what you think?"

Between sobs, Imogene nodded her head.

Bernie grabbed her tits, twisted her tit-ends until she quit crying and was screaming her lungs out.

"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee! My tits! My tits! You're hurting them!"

"You bitch! So you think I'm a grabby guy, huh! Well, maybe I am. How's that grab you, you bitch!"

Imogene desperately grabbed Bernie's hands and tried to wrestle her nipples away from his greedy grasp. "Ooooooh, please! Bernie! My tits hurt! Please let go of my tits!"

Bernie smiled sadistically – in other words his canine teeth became very prominent and the hairs on his body began to bristle werewolfishly. He twisted her tit-ends harder, and Imogene's nipples were filled with angry-red blood just like her face.

"You cocksucker! You're hurting my tits! Aaaaiiiieeee!"

Bernie hurt them some more.

He grabbed as much of her tit-meat as his hairy hands could hold and his fingernails gouged deep into her firm titties.

"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee! Oh God! Please stop! My titttiiiieeeeeesssss!"

Bernie chuckled, laughed demoniacally, spoke in a Transylvanian tone of voice: "Are ya gonna let me fuck your titties now, Genie-baby? Or do I have to pull off your tits and fuck them separate from your body?"

Imogene opened her eyes wide. Oh God! Mother was so fight! She had mated a greedy man. A man who, had to have his own way. A man who was more like Hyde than Jekyll, more werewolf on moonless nights than when the moon was full.

Imogene shook her head, tears spilling out of her eyes and dropping like blood on his hairy paws. God, she didn't want her titties pulled off her chest.

Jesus! If he did that, she'd die. She'd be faced with going through life with a double mastectomy. With having to live without the support of a bra.

Could she possibly remarry then, after her former monster of a husband had ripped off her titties? What man with a normal breast fetish would want to fuck a freak woman who was titless?

"Oh God! Don't pull off my tittties! God! Goahead and fuck my titties… please don't pull them off!"

Bernie smiled ghoulishly. "All right, you bitch! Lay down flat and push your tits together."

The bitch lay down flat and pushed her tits together. Imogene had become a bitch because she felt more like a fucking dog doing its master's bidding than wife who was willing to let her greedy husband fuck her tits under the guise of love.

Bernie stared at her thirty-sixer's as they were pushed together. Yum-yum. They looked delicious. Mountains of firm flesh that heaved as she breathed. Nipples that beckoned him to suck. A cleavage that looked like a super-long hairless cunt.