“Do you want me to squeeze the Magic Kentucky Lime fruit on your pussy? It will make you feel extreme cravings for stiff cock.”
“Is it safe?”
Lanasha said it was. “Some people call it the Purple Cometwat, but its real name is Magic Kentucky Lime.”
“Go right ahead,” said Marcela.
Lanasha took a large yellow-and-green fruit and cut it in half on the side table. It didn’t look anything like a lime to Marcela. Lanasha gently helped Marcela turn over so that she lay face up. She gently massaged Marcela’s stomach and around her hip bones, and then she drew her knees up, and she said, “Hold your labia open.” Marcela held herself open and Lanasha pressed the fruit between her hands.
Cold drops fell on Marcela’s little thumper bean and trickled down. And then Lanasha took the whole half of the fruit, and she pushed it down over Marcela’s mound so that the pulp of it was mashed into her folds. Marcela felt an incredible almost burning warmth flow back into her body and down her legs.
“Ooooh,” Marcela groaned. “I don’t just want to be full of a cock, I also want to have a cock. I want a cock of my own. Can you arrange that for me?”
“Ah, no,” said Lanasha. “That’s called a crotchal transfer. You’ll have to ask Lila about that.”
“Oh, okay. Well, can you put a trickle of the Kentucky Lime on my bottom, too?”
“Yes,” said Lanasha, “but if I do, I warn you, you’re going to want to have something in there.”
“That’s fine.” So Lanasha held Marcela’s knees together and pushed her legs back over her stomach. Then Marcela could feel the cut edges of the Kentucky Lime on the tender skin around her bottom hole. “I’m going to squeeze the fruit now, don’t freak,” said Lanasha.
She frowned and Marcela felt her bottom flooded with juice. Her asshole opened blindly for a moment and gulped some of it. She could feel the burning warmth going far inside her.
“How do you feel now?” asked Lanasha.
Marcela didn’t speak for a moment. She cleared her throat. Then she said, “How do I feel? Lanasha, frankly I need two yellow school buses of dick to drive right through me. Each filled with a whole soccer team.”
Lanasha made a satisfied chuckle. “I thought you said foot-ball,” she said.
“Okay, one football team, one soccer team.”
Lanasha rang a bell. “I think she’s ready for you, Ross,” she called.
Ross and Bono walked in. “Hot show,” said Ross. “I loved when your titties were hanging.”
Marcela began to turn slowly, smiling, and put her ass up. “You liked it when I was like this?”
“Yeah, just like that!”
Bono was standing to the side, staring at Marcela while Lanasha gently stroked his pecker. “Ross, sweetheart,” said Marcela, “where’s that nice young peeny wanger of yours? Is it still full of gobs of nice hot come?”
Ross said nothing, but Marcela watched Bono’s eyes follow something happening around back of her. Then Marcela felt two hands on her hips and a heavy, knobby pressure moving around the folds of her pussy, seeking a way in. She arched her back and suddenly, because she was so wet, a stiff immensity went deep and filled her up. She made a surprised groan and answered instinctively by slapping her ass back hard against Ross’s hips, then she pulled partway off his cock and let him slam into her again — once, twice, thrice, four times, and then she heard Ross say, in a fierce whisper, “Shit, baby, I’m coming!” She felt the thickness twitch hard inside her. “I’m sorry! Your pussy was just too hot for me.”
“That’s okay, honey, I like that you had to come right away — that’s supersexy.” Marcela turned and smiled at him reassuringly. He gave her an embarrassed shrug and grinned.
Lanasha spoke. “I think Bono’s got something all ready for you,” she said.
“Bono? You got something for me? My ass is still up. La-nasha, can you help this nice boy find his way? I’m still open for business.”
Ross slapped hands with Bono. Marcela felt Lanasha’s strong practiced hands pulling her asscheeks open, and then she felt a middle finger twiddle purposefully in her ass. And then, finally, Bono’s length of badness stuffed her gasping twat full of warm, brown dick muscle. Bono had more control. He said little, but he developed an oval rhythm, angling and slamming his smooth musclemeat in and out. He slammed fourteen strokes, and then he said, “It’s gonna pop soon!”
“Wait, stop, not quite yet,” she said, freezing. “I want to frig myself off while you’re still hard in me.”
“Okay, but if you move the tiniest bit I’ll come for sure.”
Marcela held three fingers together and circled and swizzled over her clit hood, while Lanasha’s finger darted and dithered in her ass. As she began to come, her cunt muscles tried to close around Bono’s motionless blood-pulsing truncheon. “Now!” she said. Bono pulled out almost to the helmet and slide-slammed back into her slippery salope, then out, then back in, and once more, and then five hard short strokes. “UHLLLLLLLL!” he said, followed by lots of snuffling. She felt a cold spray of sweat droplets on her back, and, inside, she again felt the long warm twitch of liberated jizm. “Oh, that’s it, fill me up with all that goodness.”
She lay panting on the massage table. Lanasha rubbed the backs of her legs with a cool washcloth.
Shandee Wears the Sponge Gloves
Shandee left Dave’s arm to sleep late in the hotel room. She met Zilka for melon and a croissant at the terrace restaurant overlooking the Garden of the Wholesome Delightful Fuckers. Zilka was wearing a striped shirt with the collar up. Her hair was amazing. Shandee wanted to know more about how she had lost her clit, but she didn’t want to ask her about it right away, so instead she asked how Zilka spent her days. Zilka said she helped Lila, and after work she went out to the Trou or hung out at the Darkrooms. “The Darkrooms are good because you can just talk to a guy,” Zilka said. “Before I lost my clit I would have been dancing or sleeping with somebody — not now.”
“So — how did it happen?” Shandee asked.
“When I was a stripper, I headlined at the Wiggle Room in San Antonio for almost a year, and I flew all over the Midwest. I was going through security, and this awful woman with bad hair stole my clit from me.”
“That’s terrible,” said Shandee.
“Yeah, it kind of is.” Zilka was sad and silent for a moment, and then she pointed. “You see that cable over there? That’s a ride called Fuck the Lake. Over there’s the midway, where you can do Spank the Pretty Ass, or Hold the Young Hung Hard-on. The Masturboats are over on the river. They’re moored right now.”
“Zilka, can you tell me how it happened?” said Shandee.
“Oh, I was at the airport in St. Louis, and they told me my flight was out of a certain gate in Terminal O. I thought, Hm, I don’t think I’ve been to Terminal O before, even though I’d flown through St. Louis a lot. But there was a security line, and the guy checked my ID, wearing the pale blue glove, and I got in line and took my shoes off, took my belt and my necklace off, and my bracelet off, and I put them all in the tray, and I walked to the metal detector, which was like a doorway, and I saw the man on the other side. He had a classy smile and short hair, and he lifted his hand and said, ‘Come on through.’ So I walked through in my stocking feet, and when I did I was fwooshed into a different mind zone, and all the men around me were the same but they were naked from the waist down.”
“That’s strange,” said Shandee.
“Yeah, isn’t it? They didn’t seem to care that they were naked below, but they definitely were. They looked up and nodded at me, because I like to dress kind of sexy, and I was amazed because I’d never seen so many penises on public display. Cocks were swinging everywhere, every size and shape. Even though I’d been a stripper for a few years, I really hadn’t seen all that much in the way of cock. Then I heard ‘Bag check on three,’ and the nice guy who’d gestured me through started going through my carry-on in extreme detail, and every move he made made his thingy bobble around a little.