She couldn't milk a dick.
One couldn't milk a bull.
But the thought gave her a chance to brace herself. To savor the imagined taste.
So that the last gasp would not be a waste. She held the spurting member close.
Pumped the final roundelay of come.
The anticipation of warmth.
Dankness.
Yeasty ferment.
And then it came.
Once more.
Prick spattering gore.
Splat!
That was it.
Between the tits.
He bent.
Kissed her.
Twanged her titties.
Gnarled them in his fists.
Massaged his shot rotgut into her flesh. Jamming the knots of come into the pinkness that surrounded each nipple.
"The best, Babette."
"Oh. Channing. That was great."
As Babette spoke, she pulsed residue of come and sputum from the sides of her mouth.
She felt the spermjuice seep to the point of her chin and hang.
The trains of jissom and spittle sparkled in the light like silvery threads.
The lengths of jissomy twine broke. Swung against her chest.
Adding more chains of come to the juices that her lover Channing would press into her. Mauling that titflesh.
Glazing her budding boobs.
Lubricating them with their mixed juices of love and lust and smutch.
"More," Babette said to her imagined suitor. "We can do it some more."
With her mind blazing full of savory dreams, Babette streamed cream on the bedpost where she leaned. She slimed cuntcome from her crotch to her knees. Squeezed her hiney.
Oozed out some more.
Slid down the bedpost.
Off the mattress.
To the floor.
Babette opened her eyes. Tossed off the tears with a shake of the head.
Jumped her eyes to the bedstead.
She smiled as she realized just how much joyjuice had been within her.
There on the bedpost was the evidence at hand. Cuntcome from her fantasy fun.
Running downward from the tapered bulblike finial of the post. That decoration Babette always thought looked like a fish.
Or the head of a prick.
Babette smiled. Brought a finger to her chin. She was growing wise.
Drew her finger down the length of the bedpost. Where she had rutted her hump.
Fucked the stump.
Hauled her tail.
Left a trail like a snail.
Chapter 2
Nutlike nippletips nude to the sun, Babette thought she would have a little more fun. She brought her hand up between her knees.
Slid the flat palm between.
Upward.
Gave her cunny a squeeze.
Strummed her clitbud with her thumb. Began to hum and move her rump.
Babette snapped open her eyes.
Then yanked her hand away from between her thighs. Licked the ooze from her fingers.
Wiped the residue across her tits.
Snatched the ringing poolside telephone with her mitts. Cupped the receiver to her ear and yip. Sank down on her hips.
Winced as she heard the voice.
"Hey, dudesse. Like you know who this is."
"Uh. Let me guess. You're asking for donations to benefit underfucked sex-crazed youths."
"Close. Not a bad idea. I'll try it sometime. This is the Rude Warrior."
"Oh. Hi, Rudy."
"What's up?"
"Oh, just lying in the sun."
"Out by the pool?"
"Uh, sort of."
"Bet you're naked."
"What makes you think that?"
"Saw your parents at the mall. Figured, now, what would I do if I were home alone? With that nice sundeck and pool."
"Not everyone's like you, dude."
"Darleene said you did. She said she and you went skinny dipping all the time when your folks weren't about. Hey! That's bodacious!"
"Two girls in the nude."
"Why not? What do you think bodies were made for? To strut and fuck. Sure enough."
"Now why would you say something like that to a girl. That's frightfully rude."
"Hey-that's my name."
"You really shouldn't think you have to live up to it. What gives? Darleene's not here."
"You think just because it's you two girls that it's not like sex? Babette, grow up."
"Darleene and I are not lesbians. Fresh."
"You two ever kissyface?"
"Shut up."
"Play tug-the-titties?"
Babette blushed.
"You know that's just like guys jerking around in locker rooms," she said.
Stroking herself again.
Thinking of fresh clit.
Tempting cuntlips.
Boobs crammed into girlish mouths.
"So you aren't a couple of dykes," Rudolph cackled. "Maybe you really need a dude around to chill you out."
"As I said. Darleene isn't here now."
"I have to talk to you. Not Darleene, In fact, just between us-"
"Gawd! What do you want?"
"I don't like talking over the phone about-it's important. And secret."
"So you want to come over. Right? So slay me with another surprise."
"I can be there in five minutes."
"Don't kill yourself."
Babette hustled her hiney.
Hurried to get back into her bathing suit. She accidentally stabbed her thumb between the cheeks of her rump as she tried to pry the elastic crotch from where she had snagged the rim of her bum.
There was a tingle in her clit.
Snarl to her cuntlips.
Felt good.
Jabbing your asshole.
Real good.
She stabbed her pucker again.
Felt better.
Babette arched her back. Brought her kneecaps up to the nippletips of her breastbuds.
Got a good angle on her ass.
Brought her thumb up to her bum with a thrash. Trashed her asshole with jackhammer action.
Twisting inward.
Increasing the friction.
"Uh."
Babette her hips.
The thumbnail nipped.
"Eeeeeh."
She shimmied her haunch.
"Uhck!"
Tip of thumb hummed in her asshole.
"Oh oh oh."
She stroked her slit with her other hand. Some-thing new.
A bit of a different way she could fuck herself. Thumb taken tightly in her ass.
Gash flailed with fingernails.
Babette began to wail.
"Ululululu!"
Then came the burps of Rudy's motorcycle coming up the driveway.
Gravel grating.
Heavy boots skating, shuffling.
Mumbles and shakes.
As Babette brought the top of her swimsuit over the tips of her tits, Rudolph Blastitoff rounded the side of the house. He grinned a bit uncertainly and played with the silver ear stud in the shape of a skull and crossbones he wore inserted into the meat of his left earlobe.
"Hiya, Rudy."
"Hey, dudesse."
"Get undressed."
"Huh? Sure."
"I'm really hot now, Rudolph. Maybe we could both cool off."
"Yuh."
Babette watched as Rudolph pulled off his leather motorcycle jacket.
She noticed he didn't yipe when she called him that-Rudolph. He usually wanted the chicks to use a more swaggering form of moniker. He said he had enough of Rudolph from his parents and teachers.
One thing for sure, Babette thought. He sure did not need that fakey motorcycle punk look.
She saw the white-blonde roots of his hair under-lining the dyed-black punkish crest that Babette thought made him resemble a rooster. He stripped the sweat-soaked teeshirt from his torso.
Babette took in his tits. Brushed his navel with her eyes.
Took eye-travel down his thighs.
"So you want to take a swim, Babette? Let's dive in-as soon as I strip down."
"Not right away. And don't bother to go all the way, kid. No skinny-dipping today."
"Balls."
She noted the muscular curve of his haunch as he jack-knifed his body to pull off his boots. Then stood straight up, legs apart.
His physical trappings certainly weren't the problem. He was well-endowed there.
No, Babette, reflected. Rudolph had no kicks against that hardbod of his.
Rudolph in the flesh was best. You did not see his problems if you were so diverted.
They were all in his head.
"What's that there?" Babette said.