Heather Brown - Door to door wife

Then the preliminaries were over. All of a sudden his tool was making its incision. The phallic crown slipped like a dream within the mouth of my eagerly expanding rectum, leading the way for inch after inch of thick shaft.

"Mmmmm," I groaned deliriously into Sheila's cunt as her father rapidly pronged my shit-pit to the hilt. Of course, as I did so, I was forced to swallow about a pint of scalding pussy juice.

Immediately I made up my mind to do a lot more groaning.

As each of the Fishers exercised their genitalia on my body, I realized that the foreplay was completed and there was nothing to do but fuck back. They'd shown me enough hospitality to whip out their organs and put them to best use relative to my naked anatomy, so now it was my responsibility to give them back as good as I was getting.

Even if they did outnumber me four-to-one.

I went to work on my cunt muscles. They'd been tight to begin with; now they became like a vise, squeezing Teddy's cock until he actually whimpered with joyous pain.

The ass. The tightest of the orifices. I made it even tighter. Art didn't whimper like his son – he howled.

Finally, I used my mouth like a vacuum cleaner. Literally sucking Sheila's teenage cunt into my oral cavity, I enclosed her labia with my lips, devouring the whole succulent sugar-plum.

Now all we had to do was start coming. It wasn't exactly the most demanding task in the world.

I went first because I was getting the most stimulation. Orgasmic ripples began to spread from the four areas that were getting fucked, quickly inundating my entire body.

My spasms immediately activated the two cunts gracing the top half of my body. While Sheila's pussy convulsingly creamed down my throat, her mother's twat twisted around my nipple until I could feel the vulnerable chunk of flesh becoming black and blue.

Only the cocks remained. It was a perfect arrangement of the best for last.

Come! Come, you bastards! I mentally implored them.

Thank God, their ESP was working. Both Art and Teddy expanded their hard-ons and extra inch in my orifices and then let go. It was the first time two males had ever come in me at once.

Hot sperm rushed up my two fuck-holes simultaneously like molten lava. In my cunt it seemed to flood all the way to my fallopian tubes. In my ass, it swamped the shit in my bowels.

Then, when there was too much of it for either of my holes to accommodate, it came gushing out. All of a sudden sperm was all over the place. By the time they were finished spurting, I was wallowing in a dense puddle of the gooey stuff.

Not to be outdone, we girls started the cycle all over again. New blasts of female cream came pouring from all three of our pussies.

The males, of course, couldn't match that right away. However, after two or three minutes of sustained friction, they miraculously plumbed the depths of their balls for renewed elixir and actually ejaculated again.

By the time the second round was finished, the five of us were practically doing the Australian crawl to stay afloat.

It was just a good thing my S.E.X. questionnaire had been safely placed on the mantle. The goo would have made it impossible to ever fill it out if it had been within five feet of our perpetually gushing bodies.

Back on the domestic front, Fred had gone to stay with his mother. In the meantime, I had the twins back home with me and we were doing the best we could.

I hired a babysitter to take care of Jimmy and Julie and prayed, as I went off to my job at S.E.X. every morning, that things would work out all right.

The data for The S.E.X. Report had all been collected. All that remained now for the findings to become a reality insofar as the American people were concerned was for the information to be collated, and then sent to the publisher. In the meantime, it was time for the staff to celebrate the end of a long, hard task.

Except that the last thing I felt like doing at the end of the project was celebrating. For the end of the research portion of The Report meant that my work was finished, and I was staring unemployment in the face with no husband and two children to support.

"Don't worry about it," Jason tried to encourage me. "You'll get a dynamite reference from us, and another job is a certainty. I promise."

"I'd feel better if you were the next guy I was going to work for," I replied ruefully.

"Listen," he said, "if it'll make you feel any better, your name will be on The Report when it comes out. As you know, there won't be any money in it for you, but that could happen. It's certain to be a best-seller, meaning that you'll be a kind celebrity. You'll be able to write your own ticket when it comes out."

"But what about in the meantime?" I wailed. "Right now I'd settle for writing a ticket to a simple secretary's job."

"Don't sell yourself short, Debbie," Jason tried to console me. "Without you, we wouldn't have been nearly so successful in compiling the type of information we needed. Just take it easy."

"Tell that to my kids," I snapped. "They like to eat three times a day, you know."

"Just stop feeding your depression," he answered paternally, "and enjoy the fruits of a job well done. Why don't you let me pick you up for the celebration tonight. A good time is what you need."

"All right," I agreed with a shrug. "Maybe I am over dramatizing."

The party was held at a local Italian restaurant that The Exchange had rented for the night. We were all seated around a long banquet table, and the booze flowed like it was going out of style. Everybody had a head on before the hors d'oeuvres were even served.

A few stiff drinks made me quickly forget about my financial problems, and before I knew it I was swinging along with everybody else. Alcohol made tomorrow a lot easier prospect to face than cold sobriety.

Then, when Arnold Feather, the psychologist who headed up the S.E.X. team began to read excerpts from the research, things really got interesting. I'd been so close to the data for such a long time that I hadn't really realized how provocative it was. When this stuff was published it would blow the lid off the country's preconceived notions about what was considered to be normal sexuality.

"Here's an interesting questionnaire," Dr. Feather intoned from the end of the table. "It seems a couple began anal intercourse during their dating in college, and were never able to make the transition to genital congress after they were eventually married. Rather than switch, they adopted children."

"Hear, hear!" a drunken Jason bolted from his chair and exclaimed. "Let's see 'Dear Abby' or 'Cosmopolitan' top that!"

"Precisely, my dear Jason," the equally tipsy Dr. Feather said. "Information like this is exactly why The S.E.X. Report is going to be on top of the best-seller list for months!"

We all cheered at that estimation, proud to be part of such certain success. Then, the good doctor laid a little bit more on the assemblage.

"I'm sure that you'll all be interested to know that the length of the average respondent's penis is…"

He teasingly paused. It was a master stroke, because all of us had bolted upright in our seats in anticipation.

"Eight and three-quarters inches," he broke the hush that had fallen over the crowd. "Slightly two and a half inches more than had previously been thought to be the norm. Our findings definitely show that erections are on the upswing. Getting longer and harder than ever before. Even if we produce no other confirmed trends, this information will be enough to rock the nation."

A spontaneous cheer spilled from the gathering. Eight and three-quarters had best-seller written all over it.

"What about you, Doc?" somebody drunkenly joked. "Are you above or below normal?"