David Crane - Door to door teaser

He fitted his cockhead to her asshole.

"Oh, my!" she cried, delighted at the prospect. He began to work his big, tapered dickhead up her rectum, squirming the oily rod up inch by inch. Her bowels were not inhospitable. They resisted for a moment, then accommodated themselves to his bulk.

His hands flattened on her ass, spreading the cheeks as his fat cock wedged in between them. He worked in until he was buried to the hilt, his balls pressed against her sodden cunt, then his grip moved to her hipbones. Holding her by the hips as if they were handles, he began to pull her asshole up and down on his cock as if he were drawing a tight-fitting boot over a foot.

She squirmed, helping him.

Some wonderful reverse peristalsis within her asshole began to flutter and ripple up his rod.

The resistance was gone. His buttery dick began to slide in and out fluidly as he shoveled the meat to her with vigor, his belly banging against her ass and his balls slapping into her crotch as he rooted in to the depths.

Barbara moaned, grinding her ass back, screwing her asshole onto his cock.

Howling like a wounded buffalo, Ray banged his prick in and hosed her bowels with hot cum.

He drew back, his slippery dick sliding free.

Barbara didn't move, other than to grind her hips and hike her ass up and down. Taking the hint, Karl took up his stance behind her, his dick hard once more, and fed another load of big cock to her asshole.

He creamed in her ass and she came with him, her hot cuntjuice dripping onto the table and melting the butter.

And so, in the end, they managed to get some variety into their love life that morning.

Although Barbara still wanted to find a fourth to make up the next cluster-fuck, she was no longer in such a hurry – no longer bored. They didn't go out looking for someone. They stayed home.

Barbara's house was on Elmhurst Drive. And as fate would have it, Elmhurst Drive was where Sarah Walters was collecting for charity.

Now that she had cured herself of her mental block concerning inventive sex, Sarah was most eager to start experimenting. But it never dawned on her that she might experiment with anyone but Jack, of course – being uninhibited did not extend to the point of being promiscuous.

Or so she thought.

Sarah was collecting for the Periproct Fund, a charity started by a wealthy proctologist. The goals of this charity had seemed a bit bizarre to her at first, but she was always looking for same worthy cause to which to donate her energies – and sublimate her sexual desires – and the good doctor had explained it logically to her.

There was, after all, a heart fund and a cancer fund and there were numerous funds directed at curing complaints of the liver and kidneys, of mental illness and meningitis and cystic fibrosis – why should the rectum be neglected?

As the good doctor put it: "Woe to the unhappy citizen whose asshole is afflicted. He is the brunt of jokes, the butt of ill advised humor, even the victim of prejudice. He suffers indignities and mortification. In his agony and itch, he is not pitied, ah no! He is laughed at! Yes, the sufferer of an anal complaint is a second-class citizen. And it is our goal, here at the Periproct Fund, to stamp out this unhappy situation and to bring to light the true nature of the noble afflict ton."

Sarah had been charmed by the doctor, who was an aristocratic chap, and always ready to take up a minority cause, she had willingly agreed to go door to door with the collection box.

It is true that, later, the doctor was arrested for trying a miracle cure for hemorrhoids – to wit, shoving his cock up the asshole of a wealthy female patient – but Sarah, of course, was not to know how the fund would turn out in the end.

And so on this fateful day, Sarah started out with her box to seek donations in the suburbs. The trouble began on the subway.

Perhaps there was something about Sarah now – some lusty glow, some sensual radiance – springing from her new, liberated attitudes. She had never been troubled by strange men before.

Be that as it may, she sat facing the seats opposite, thinking about Jack and thinking specifically about all the lovely things she was going to do to him and with him when she got home that afternoon. Since it was early in the day, there were few passengers taking the subway out of the city. They were streaming in to work, going in the apposite direction, and in the same car with Sarah, there was only a single passenger.

He had boarded one station beyond where Sarah got on. Although he had his choice of any seat on the train – but for the one in which she sat – he chose to sit opposite the girl.

Sarah thought nothing of it. She scarcely noticed the man, in fact, being lost in her daydreams.

She was wearing a shirt that reached to mid-thigh and her knees were slightly parted, showing a brief expanse of smooth white leg disappearing under the mysteries of her skirt.

The man was young, with longish hair and a leather jacket. He slumped in his seat. After a while he got out a package of chewing gum and managed to drop one in their aisle. He had to bend down to retrieve it and from that position, he was able to look right up Sarah's skirt and see the crotch of her panties.

Because she was thinking of Jack, her panties were damp, clinging to her cuntlips.

The man was clumsy in a clever way. He dropped the same stick of chewing gum half a dozen times, taking longer and longer to find it every time.

His eyes were glued on her crotch.

Finally, tired of having to fumble for the gum while his head was tilted back, the interested fellow slid out of his seat and sat down on the floor.

Sarah's eyes were closed as she daydreamed.

Her pussy was twitching and she figured there was no way she was going to get through the day without giving herself a handjob. If she tried it, she would probably cream in her panties.

She thought that was disgusting.

But she was wondering where she would be able to get the privacy to masturbate.

She couldn't very well ask to use the bathroom in one of the suburban homes at which she was soliciting; she had no taste for pubic washrooms in train stations; she was not in the habit of going unescorted to cocktail lounges.

Her eyes flickered open.

She looked straight ahead and because her fellow passenger was on the floor, she did not see him. He was stretched out on his belly, his hand supporting his chin. He was chewing gum and gazing with unadulterated interest up Sarah's skirt. Her gaze therefore passed over him.

Oh! I must have been dozing off, thought the newly uninhibited girl. I didn't hear that young man get off.

She looked up and down the car. All the seats were empty.

They had just pulled out of the last municipal station and were picking up speed as they rolled along towards the first stop in the suburbs. Sarah knew that the train would not be stopping again for at least ten minutes.

She got a brilliant idea!

What could possibly be more private than an empty train? She had a good ten minutes during which she could play with her pussy in complete comfort and privacy. Even the motion of the train was a help. The seat, vibrating under her, was stimulating.

It was a naughty thing to do – and daring – but she figured it was safe enough, and she really did feel like giving her cunt a good handjob before she had to start walking from house to house. It would be uncomfortable, asking for donations at the doors while her twat was smoldering away like a glowing ember between her thighs. And how embarrassing if an orgasm sneaked up on her just as she was explaining about the worthy cause for which she was soliciting! She would be mortified!

Yes, obviously the best thing was to take care of her cunt while she had the opportunity.