"Oh? She say anything about how she liked it? It wasn't finished then."
"We were actually talking about something else when she mentioned it in passing."
"I just had some of the words together then. I changed it all around later. When I was doing the music to it."
"Gag me with a drumstick."
"Now it's about you, Babette."
"You just changed the name."
"And besides. Darleene isn't exactly going with me steady or anything. I know what she does. And I get around plenty too."
"There are five girls in the band, Rudolph. How many more Boppettes you got left to hit on now? Or are Darleene and I the first?"
Rudolph looked at Babette as if she had just slapped his face.
"I'll be taking off now, Babette."
"Look, Rude Warrior baby. No hard feelings- okay? I was joking around. I won't tell Darleene about any of this stuff. I kind of liked talking to you. Just don't go telling Darleene that."
Rudolph was outside, kicking over his motorcycle. As he scattered gravel in the driveway, Babette thought about how light and airy, free hand giggly she had felt for a few minutes outside in the pool.
Babette stripped out of her swimsuit and turned on the shower. She remembered how good it had felt when she had split herself open.
Touched herself down there.
All over.
Stroking her hair.
Splitting her slit.
When she had stabbed her clit.
Frigged her fanny.
And then later.
When Rudolph's cock had touched her there. On the outside skin of her swimsuit.
Prick, stiff and limber.
Just separated from her bare juicebulb by nothing more than the stretch material of the bathing suit.
Babette sighed as the hot water needled into her flesh. She sensed it slosh down her back and into the cleft between her fannycheeks.
Yes.
Fantasy was great that way.
She could do what she wanted.
With whomever she wanted.
And it didn't have to be sanctioned. Why, if she had a hankering to go after Rudolph's hog-so long as it was only in her mind-who gave a shit?
"Are you following me?" she said again, this time in her mind."
"I was just talking to you," Rudolph said again, in Babette's head.
Hand hefting her quim, Babette pursued her fantasy fuck.
"Wait out here, Rudolph. I'm going to take a shower now."
"I can sing it loud from out here."
Water steamed over Babette's boobs. Licked along her labia and clitoris.
"Can't hear you, Rudolph. You'll have sing a lot louder, I think."
"I'll have to come in."
"Hey, Rudolph."
"Hey, it's okay. Look-I don't have a hardon. I just want to sing-"
Babette's hand hooked under his belly.
She brought the cock forward and up. Smacked her self between the thighs.
"Unh."
Gripped his asscheeks within tight fists. Tortured her twatlips.
Rudolph held the head of his twanger. He winced as he flinched at her opening.
Then cracked his haunch forward.
Prickhead ranting on up.
"Oh."
The thickness fidgeted in her vaginal canal. Darted in and out.
The prick worked its snout inward.
Then retreated a ways.
Charged in again.
"Ngh."
"God, Rudolph"
"I won't come."
"It's not that."
"Ugh."
"Aren't you being a little rough?"
"That's how it feels, Babette. Don't tell me you're a virgin."
"I won't tell you anything of the sort."
Babette relaxed her cunt muscles. Accepted his rutting eagerly.
Her twatlips thirsted for the fission of that elusive joyjuice-his jissom.
Rudolph played his fingers up and down her back. Babette shivered as he stroked her ass.
His long musician's fingers fiddled in her cranny. Folded the asscheeks flat apart. Flapping the lobes like a valentine heart.
"Is it in yet?" one of them said.
"You bet."
They both giggled.
Brought lips together.
Exchanged spittle.
Joined at the middle.
Babette hopped he haunch down the length of his lingam. In her crotch, Babette's fingers simulated his stinger.
In her mind, her flopping palm was his scrotum slapping as he rutted.
His nuts nestled in the clench of her hand. She twisted them as he twined his cock inside of her cunt with a grunt.
"Ngh."
"Up."
"Yeah, more."
"Higher."
Prick eating up cunt.
He hot-cocked her with every inch.
Babette flinched.
Loosened.
Fell back against the sides of the bathing stall. Mauled her breastbuds.
Clubbed her clit.
Almost tasting it in her twat.
Almost like real-live cock.
Babette slid down like a zipper.
She splayed her legs.
Lay, come-cascading from her, ass up. Holding onto the nozzle of the bathwater spigot.
Sucking onto its tip.
Turning the spigot on a bit.
While frigging her clit.
Babette tasted the liquid. Licking as it lurched from.the steely appendage.
The liquid streamed down her neck. Over the curves of her tits.
Searing her flesh.
Babette tasted come in her lips. Remembrance of that taste she had gotten from Channing's dried sperm glued to his regal stationery.
Babette speared her snatch with a batch of fingernails. Took hold of her tail and flailed. Against the tip of the spigot she railed.
Frictioning herself to oblivion.
Chapter 3
Rounded rump pumped up and down once. Then Suzanne Radcliffe began to hump slowly. She wiggled her pyramid-shaped nippletips beneath her silk camisole with flicks of her finger-tips.
Waggled her hips side to side.
Top rounds of melonlike fannylobes glowed, peeking above the hovering waistband of the pulsing panties. Highlighting the deeply etched asscleft between.
"I want you to fuck my ass."
"What?"
"I want you to fuck my ass this time, Channing. Did you hear me?"
"Hang onto it, Suzanne. I'm just getting out the champagne. It's cool enough now."
Channing Bentley exited from the small pantry next to the walk-in wine cellar. He next walked down the stone-faced hallway and into the cozy grotto that his family called the den.
"I want you first to fuck my ass. And then piss down my throat."
"Music loud enough?" Channing said.
He jacked the thick bottle of champagne.
Pointed it at the young lady in the center of the room. The one with the long silky hair who was kneeling on the floor.
A sight to behold. There was Suzanne, in her lingerie and smoking a cigarette.
Butting away to the music while riding the head of the bearskin rug like a pony.
"What were you saying, Suzanne dear?"
"I was just telling you what I wanted you to do to me. Didn't you hear?"
"I was getting the champagne." His eyes narrowed, Tongue licked out. "Tell me, Suzanne. What is it you want to do?"
"You weren't listening when I told you," she said, torquing her hips. "You'll just have to guess-or do it!"
Channing buckled to the bearskin.
He rolled up to Suzanne's bouncing body and nailed her from underneath.
He pulled his paw into her panties at the ass-cheeks. Grabbed a hank of twatfur hanging down beneath her humping haunches.
"Eeeeek."
Channing stretched out his other hand.
His phalanges trickled up her belly. Advancing from her navel to her ribs.
Then he danced his digits up.
Bounced his thumb to her boob.
"Oooooh. I'm melting," Suzanne said.
He handled her tits within his grip. Slipped his palms over the tight tips.
Turned the nipples around like knobs.
Bobbed his fist on boob.
Gnawing upward with his teeth as he warped his head up underneath her armpit from behind. Glancing off her wet flesh.
Tasting tittie in his lips.
"Ow!"
He nipped her nip.
While playing with her hip.
Suzanne's fanny rode up and down on Channing's wrist. His fist frayed her slit.