Mark Carver - Family flesh feast

Next, the computer programmer invented a series of prick exercises. Any muscle was capable of growth through exercise. So why not his faulty pecker? Each night his wife would very gently stretch his meat. First, a back and forth motion, then a jiggling side to side motion, followed by a forceful up and down series of jerks, finishing with a rapid circular shimmying. In addition, she made his cock touch his asshole three times, his belly three times, striving to reach his belly button, each side of his groin six times, and then rubbed it between her huge warm tits for a refreshing massage.

He never failed to get a rousing hard-on from her hot fingers and lush tits and in the end it simply proved to be another fucking session, with no enduring results.

Al refused to give up. There had to be a way to stretch his cock to the normal five-and-seven-eighths inches, maybe beyond to a powerful six inches. A firm believer in mind over matter, he next tried sheer mental power. He lay quietly in bed with his eyes closed each night and vividly imagined his prick was growing. Not simply rising long and thick, but expanding to fantastic heights of splendor in his imagination. He saw it gradually fill the whole bedroom with red, pulsating power, then the entire house, mushrooming majestically to cram the city block, then the alarmed town, the terrified state, the awed and shocked country, the whole fucking world and then the endless shattered universe!

His mind, not used to such pranks, began to play tricks on him. He became obsessed with his imagined colossal prick, seeing it knock people over in public like bowling pins, watching lush girls stop in their tracks and scream softly with uncontrolled lust at his immense hard-on. He would sit in bars and strike up casual conversations with girls on the prowl, vividly imagining himself as a five-foot-ten-inch prick, bristling with power, a huge crimson knob where his head used to be. Come to me, he would silently command, his cock body throbbing irresistibly, touch me, stroke me, suck me, fuck me, you stupid bitch! They failed to get the message.

After two weeks of such unhealthy fantasy, he started to act like a prick, so that even his adoring wife began avoiding him. And his nightly measurements showed now growth. Reluctantly, he gave up his mind over matter program. He resigned himself to a lifetime of seething inferiority, of having a rod that failed to make the grade by a humiliating but whopping three-quarters of an inch.

On this warm summer evening, he listened in on his wife's telephone call from Mrs. Moore with deep interest. They'd decided on a firm rule not to screw around with anyone in this small, conservative town because of the obvious risks. These hicks couldn't possibly understand his theory of Advanced Sexual Programming, so why bother? But when a fish leaped right into their boat, not even baited, why not try it?

"Which button are you going to push tonight, Al?" Georgia asked excitedly as she dressed in her sexiest, a simple clinging black dress that displayed her ripe cleavage and proud tits and ass. She was black haired with enormous dark eyes and a pouty, sensuous mouth. She didn't regard herself as a swinger at all, but a profoundly dedicated scientist like her husband. She was convinced that someday Al would get the Nobel Prize and as his hard working assistant she would share it with him.

"I haven't decided yet," Al said thoughtfully. "But I might do a combo tonight. I'm in the mood."

Georgia's eyes shone with anticipation. Al could devise a combination just like a pizza, so that to get the desired sex response you had only to push one button instead of two.

"How about a 'Spank me whip me hurt me fast!' with a 'Suck me fuck me rape me suck me fuck me rape me do whatever you want with me anything!' combo, Al?"

"Maybe. Just perfume your hot pussy and be ready."

They had a pitcher of fresh martinis ready when Donna Moore showed up. Both of them were very pleasantly surprised. Donna had gone to great lengths to make herself sexy too, not cheap sexy but quiet sexy, just a hint of makeup and a simple white blouse and skirt that enhanced her voluptuous curves.

Georgia was just a little disappointed over Donna's age. She accurately guessed about thirty-nine, although the lush housewife could easily pass for thirty, but this minor drawback was more than compensated for by the woman's obvious sex appeal and her explosive eagerness. Besides, Georgia had always wanted a big sister to make it with and she could easily pretend the ravishing brunette was her sister.

Donna tried to control her nervousness but she betrayed it by almost spilling her drink. She was more than pleasantly surprised by the young couple, she was tremendously excited. They seemed infinitely sleek and glamorous to her country girl mind, and the idea of actually making it with another woman, especially a sensuous, long legged and hungry eyed creature like Georgia made her throat dry and her pussy ooze hotly.

For a few minutes they chatted casually about the merits and disadvantages of living in a small town, while Al and Georgia raked her plump curves over with their eyes. Then Georgia, self-confident with long experience, nestled close to Donna on the sofa, their hips brushing, the swinger's arm resting lightly around Donna's shoulder, her lustrous eyes melting on the housewife's.

It was turn on time, and Georgia decided to dispense with a slow buildup and move in for a quick attack. The brunette was so frustrated and fired up she was trembling, already turned on by the sexy lingerie and obscene items in the box. Georgia sensed at once Donna had never made it with a woman and she was deeply, lewdly curious about it.

"Are you wearing any of the underthings now, Donna?" she asked softly, licking her lips in a hot suggestion.

"Well, yes, I borrowed the blue bra and panties," she flushed. "I-I like the feel of them, soft and… cuddly."

Georgia's lips brushed the brunette's warm throat. "Show us," she whispered. "Don't be bashful, honey. Tell you what, Donna, I'll show you what I've got on underneath and then you show me, okay?"

The swinger classified this approach as the snoopy kid game. You show me your boobies and I'll show you mine. Then you show me your cute ass and I'll match you with mine. It worked with a certain type, especially frustrated housewives. The psychology was crude, but it worked, so what the hell?

Feverish with curiosity, Donna nodded. While Al watched from a chair across the sofa, his wife stood up and slowly, provocatively slipped off her dress. Her succulent tits almost spilled out of her flimsy pink bra, the plump tan nipples jutting out from tiny openings. Donna sucked in her breath as her eyes slid down over Georgia's silken belly and narrow waist to her lushly curved hips. A soft, curly tangle of dark pussy hairs peeped through the crotchless panties.

There were lewd designs embroidered on the bra and panties, miniature figures locked in passion. A few of them showed a triangle of two women and one man, one woman crouched down to eat another while the man knelt behind her with his massive dick halfway into her pussy.

"Your turn, Donna," Georgia coaxed softly, hefting her own hot tits in her fingers.

For a minute Donna was tempted to flee, to get the hell out of here without a backward glance. Christ, she was a respectable housewife! She'd always been faithful to her husband – until this morning when that damned box showed up on her doorstep. Was it only this morning she'd feverishly gone down on the teen and then practically raped him? And now this bizarre scene, with a sultry hot eyed swinger weaving her hips obscenely in front of her while her husband watched with burning eyes..

Donna was about to blurt out that she simply couldn't go through with it, sorry, but it was all too weird for a simple country girl. Instantly, Georgia sensed her thoughts. The ripe breasted swinger moved quickly.