Ron Taylor: X-rated mother

Stacy Talbot came out of the building, buttoning up her fuzzy coat as she walked. A cold winter wind blew across the campus. God, why hadn't she gone someplace warm, like Miami or UCLA or even Hawaii? Amherst was such a bitch in the winter, but she only had one more year. That was a consolation.

"Stace!" someone called, and she turned to see who it might be.

"Oh, hi, Don," she said.

He swept her up in his arms and spun her around, heels flying in the air, before he put her down and kissed her. She liked Don. He was strong as a bear and just as cuddly.

"I missed you, so I decided to cut class and scour the campus in search of your body," he leered, his breath frosty in the chill air. He looked so funny when he wanted to be naughty.

"What do you want to do?" she asked as they walked.

"I want to do you," he replied, very sincere. "I want to spread your nude body on a bearskin rug, smear you with honey and whipped cream, and then lick it all away."

"I've had that done before," Stacy said. "It's no big deal. And it's kinda messy. Why don't we just go somewhere and screw?"

"You've convinced me."

She was in the mood to be balled. It had been a rotten week, even if this was only Tuesday, and maybe a good fuck would lift her out of the dumps she'd been in. And she was in the mood for a guy, too. Don was one of three people on campus Stacy was currently tight with. He didn't know about the other two, both of whom were girls.

That was the problem, damn it to shit. One of Stacy's bunkies was bi, and half nympho besides. She was easy to get along with. Sometimes the two of them went cruising Long Island in search of meat – they'd alternate between hunting girls and hunting guys – but it was only fun for them. The other girl showed dangerous signs of being a full-time dyke and she was starting to get possessive too. Sunday night in bed, after a long session of back-and-forth sucking, she'd fried to give Stacy a ring with a real quarter-carat diamond, as a token of love, she said.

Jesus, what a bummer! Stacy's rejection had started a quarrel, hot and bitter, which gradually turned into reconciliation, hot and sweet. Right now the ring was in a box on Stacy's dresser, back at the apartment. She didn't know what to do with it. Obviously, Melissa meant the ring to be a sort of engagement, expecting that Stacy would quit fucking with other people and stick to her exclusively. And Stacy didn't know if she was ready for that.

Funny. She'd seduced Melissa, as a sort of prank. But the blue-eyed sophomore art major had turned into a passionate bedmate, horny and hungry. The impulse had certainly been inside her before the chance came, and now Melissa was almost insatiable. She left teethmarks. It was Stacy's doing, in a way, and she felt responsible, but how responsible? Screw it! She's mess around with Don for a while and get her head straight. She had no more classes today, and the bed at his place was soft and warm.

"Let's go to a movie," he suggested, interrupting her silent monologue. "Something dirty," he added. "There's a new one downtown. Let's go watch the degenerates and see if we can pick up any new tricks."

Stacy shrugged. Why not? Sometimes dirty movies were a real turn-on, if they were dirty enough or good enough. There weren't many of those, however, and she was positive that if she saw one more girl go down on Marc Stevens' ten-inch cock, she'd barf all over the place.

The ticket window didn't open till noon, so they had a cup of coffee in the diner next door and waited. As Don paid for their tickets, he asked the girl in the booth, "Is it any good?"

She shrugged, obviously a U Mass student with a part-time job off campus. "Who knows? The posters have a lot of quotes from Twat or one of those scungy papers saying how great it is. Personally I think it's all a tactic to exploit women."

The theater was almost empty, with only one or two overcoated men spaced out here and there. It was dark and Stacy cuddled Don as they waited for the film to begin. He put his arm around her, one of his hands cupping her left breast, and she purred to feel the strength of his grip. A man held a tit differently from a woman, she was well aware. Stacy liked it both ways, but right now she'd settle for Don and his hearty handhold.

First on the bill were a couple of featurettes. Plotless, badly photographed, with poor sound, they were basically pictures of people having sex. A man and two girls, three girls and four men, a woman and a dildo. Stacy found herself yawning before the second was finished, and she feared she might go to sleep before she knew it.

The feature film was an epic called How to Become a Stud. It didn't look promising from the very beginning, with cheaply fashioned, crude title cards. But it was Don's money, she reflected, and if it turned him on, she'd tolerate it.

It opened with a guy, a bit dark for Stacy's taste, making out on a couch with a cute, short, large-breasted girl. They kissed and necked and fondled, and the girl bent down to unzip the guy's pants. She pulled his cock out and teased it with her fingers, but it didn't get hard. She kissed it. She sucked it. She took off her blouse and squeezed it between her large brown-nippled tits. It still didn't get hard. In frustration she began calling him an impotent son of a bitch, and then threw him out of her apartment. They were both pretty rotten actors, Stacy decided.

Cut to the guy, starting out on his job next morning. He was a telephone repairman, and Stacy could see it all coming. Or should that be cumming?

His boss had sent him to a large apartment building – Stacy recognized it with a start – it was in downtown New York City, not far from her mother's place. Somehow that brought a touch of home to the movie. With his tools belted on his hip the guy – his name was Bob – entered the building.

On the second floor Bob passed an open door and stopped to take a look inside. Close-up of his face as he did a double-take. A petite blonde, slim, with fair-sized tits, was leaning over the back of a couch while an enormous black man rammed her tiny ass with his oversized dick. She looked as if she were trapped halfway between unendurable pain and unspeakable pleasure. There was a tight close-up of the scene, so that no viewer need miss the details of penetration. The black's rod looked like a telephone pole jammed up the girl's anus, but it moved easily, shining greasy and black when it pulled back for a fresh stroke.

Bob stepped through the open door, closing it behind him. His foot bumped a chair and the pair looked up.

"What you want, honky?" the black called in a shrill, defiant tone.

"Uh…" said Bob. "I'm here to fix the phone. But I see something I'd rather be doing."

"Yeah?" the black hooted. "Well, drop your pants and rub your shithole with Vaseline, 'cause it's gonna hurt your ass off otherwise."

He grunted and doubled his tempo, suddenly pulling his black rod out of its tight passageway. He grabbed his cock and began to jerk himself rapidly. His cum spurted into the air, gushing onto his partner's back and slim hips. She reached around and rubbed the juice with her fingers, massaging it into her fair skin.

"No," Bob cut in, pointing to the erection inside his pants. "I meant I'd like to do it to the chick."

"Everybody wants to fuck a white girl," said the blonde. "And I don't have a telephone. So why don't you scram?"

It was a rather funny scene, Stacy decided, and she heard Don chuckling softly. She put her hand on his lap and teased the lump on his penis. He wasn't anywhere near hard. Yet… Give her a minute, though. Maybe she'd go down on him here in the theater. He might really get off on the idea. They'd done it before, of course, and Stacy hated to do it the same way twice. But that last time it had been a challenge, because the house was nearly full. He'd thrown his coat over her head while she gobbled his meat, but he came with a groan that was louder than the movie and everyone must have known anyway.