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Message-ID: <29391asstr$984676205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Azil <Azil_member@newsranger.com>
References: <29356asstr$984384602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 14 Mar 2001 23:53:30 EST
Subject: {ASSM} My Reward, Ch58 (MC, MF)
Date: Thu, 15 Mar 2001 12:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

My Reward By Azil Copyright 1998-2000

   Disclaimers:

   This is a work of fiction.  No character is meant to resemble any
specific person, living or dead.

   Sexual actions of various types will be depicted in this story.  This
does not mean that the author approves of these actions, has ever performed
any of them, or would perform them if given the opportunity.  (Nor does it
mean that he doesn't, hasn't, and/or wouldn't).

   This is inappropriate reading material for minors.  In many
jurisdictions it may be illegal for minors to read it, or for adults to
make it available for minors to read.  The author urges you not to disobey
these laws.  Even if it isn't illegal where you are, keep it away from kids
anyway.

   CHAPTER 58: MERRY XXXMAS

   Sharon was very pleased at Little Bit's bubbling enthusiasm when we
returned home, and all were entertained (and stimulated) by her detailed
descriptions of our adventures at Disneyland.  Our new six-person super-bed
got a good workout that night.

   Sharon was also pleased when she talked with Little Bit's teacher, who
praised us for dealing with the problem so speedily (although she expressed
reservations about the health aspects of anal intercourse).

   So things had been fixed on that front, and all was smooth again as
Christmas approached.  I was able to enjoy my several wives in my Penisite
household, I visited the Mallory Empire regularly, I wandered into other
times and places, and I enjoyed an occasional random screw.  Nothing was
going on with Chris, but I had expected it to take a while before I'd see
any progress - she spoke highly about Dr.  Martin, though she was still
reluctant to talk with me in detail about their sessions.

   With so much going on, it's not surprising that Christmas crept up on
me. Actually, I've never been able to get into the spirit early - I'm more
of a last-minute panic shopper.  Anyway, about a week or so before
Christmas, as usual, I finally began to get ready to do some shopping, so I
called Beth and we visited our favorite mall.  After buying some
conventional presents, we finally ended up, of course, at FuckMart.

   FuckMart at Christmas is a lively and busy place - much like any other
store.

   Except that other stores don't have the ornament selection that FuckMart
features in their Holiday Shoppe, like the Christmas angel Beth bought to
place atop her tree - a nude angel with her legs spread, to be inserted on
the tree via her anus.  Nor would the other stores have the dildo-shaped
peppermint candy canes that all the little girls were demanding.  The
salespeople wisely positioned the candy canes as, effectively, educational
toys, telling the mothers that they'd help the girls with their blowjob
practice sessions.  They seemed to be selling well.

   And of course no other store would have a Santa quite like FuckMart's.
The FuckMart Human Resources Department did extensive background checks on
all their potential Santas - weeding out the inexperienced ones who lacked
multiple convictions for child molesting.  It was one of the great
traditions of Christmas - the parents giggling with delight as their
children squirmed on Santa's knee while Santa slipped his hand into their
pants.

   And there was also the pleasure of watching the pride in a father's eyes
as little Suzy tells Santa that what she really wants for Christmas is for
Daddy to fuck her, or the laughter as little Johnny gets off Santa's knee
and asks one of his elves for a blowjob.

   Not that you could blame Johnny.  The elves were the best Christmas
decorations in the mall perfect miniatures (three feet tall) of Britney
Spears, Christina Aguilera, and various others stars and starlets, all
dressed in brightly-colored PVC and fishnet hose.

   But it wasn't just Christmas, of course.  Shopping was always a delight
at FuckMart - consider, for example, the Custom Condom Counter, where I
stopped on this occasion, while Beth was shopping in the Torture
Department.

   I had no need of rubbers, of course, since Reward took care of any
safe-sex concerns, but I was attracted by the young lady behind the
counter, a statuesque six-foot blonde - a bit buxom for my usual taste, but
too impressive to pass by.

   The blonde, dressed in the FuckMart uniform of red blazer with the FM
logo on her breast (the size of the breast made the logo jut out like it
was 3D), and short white pleated skirt trimmed in blue, flashed me a big
welcoming smile as I approached the counter.  "How may I help you, sir?  Do
you need some condoms today?"

   I nodded and she pointed to the display rack behind her.  There, arrayed
in rows, were dozens of dildos, each wearing a brightly colored sheath. 
"We have all the major brands, sir, as well as our exclusive FuckMart
products, which are extremely popular.  All come in a variety of styles and
textures, many colors, and carry full warranties," she said, obviously
having just completed a training class.

   I made my selection from the display, telling her I'd like the Rainbow
Assortment.  It was described by the sign on the display as "A tasteful
selection of pleasing pastels, accented with a mix of stronger hues -
exciting neons and fashionable metallic shades - to add just the right
touch of spice." I was impressed with the copywriting.  A bit florid
compared to our agency's style, but not inappropriate for the subject
matter.  I ordered ten gross, and she entered the order without blinking.

   Looking up from the terminal, she smiled again.  "I'll need to get you
to full arousal, sir, in order to get an accurate measurement - would you
rather fuck me or have a blowjob?"

   I considered.  "Would it be possible to have a blowjob to get me
started," I asked, "and then a fuck to make sure it's up all the way?"

   "Of course," she answered, then asked, "Will you step over here to the
Blowjob Chair?" She motioned toward a plushly upholstered easy chair raised
up on a platform, rather like the shoeshine chairs that used to be features
of train stations.

   I stepped up, settled into the chair, took down my pants at her gesture,
then watched as the blonde touched a couple buttons on a console, first
raising, then slightly lowering the chair to position my crotch directly in
front of her mouth.

   "You have a very fine penis, sir," she said, "I'm sure it will look
terrific in the FuckMart condoms." I suspected she said this to all the
cocks she blew, but it was nice of her to say it anyway, and I thanked her,
as she was putting the cock in question between her lips.

   It appeared that, as with the Santas, the people who did the hiring at
FuckMart knew what they were doing - this was a girl born to suck cock. 
Barely had she slipped it between those lips than I could feel her tongue
swirl around its head and it began to stiffen.  As she felt my reaction,
she smiled up at me and then began a slow pumping motion, riding her head
up and down, occasionally letting it slip all the way out, kissing it, then
sucking it back in, deep into her throat.  She had the suction of an Oreck
gone mad.

   I closed my eyes and let the delightful sensations wash over me, totally
oblivious to the crowds passing in the busy store, feeling the warm
dampness of her mouth ride up and down my cock.  Soon, however, she stopped
and said, "It looks like it's pretty hard now."

   Damn right it was.  But I wasn't about to waste a good hard-on like that
on a measuring tape.  "I think you're right," I admitted, "but let's try it
in your pussy for a little while to make sure."

   "Okay," she said happily, leaning over the counter and raising the
pleated skirt to reveal her FuckMart brand crotchless panties stretched
over a full, plump, and thoroughly wonderful ass.  I stroked the cheeks as
she spread her legs apart and reached back to guide my anxious prick into
her surprisingly tight little fuckhole.

   As I began stroking into her, Beth walked up, holding a bag full of new
torments for the inmates of her dungeon.  "Test-driving condoms - what a
great idea," she remarked.

   "Hello, ma'am," the blonde, always working, addressed Beth.  "I'm
helping this customer right now, but I'll be with you in a moment.  Perhaps
you'd like to look at our selection of ticklers while you're waiting." Her
speech was interrupted once or twice by grunts as I drove into her
exceptionally hard, but she was certainly a remarkably focused young woman.

   "That's okay," Beth replied.  "I'm with him." Then to me she added: "Are
you trying on condoms, Tom, or trying on blondes?"

   "He's picked out a fine assortment of our best condoms," the blonde went
on, never tiring of her sales spiel.  I grabbed the two big ass cheeks and
drove harder and faster into her.  "I'm sure you'll both enjoy them - we're
getting ready to do a fitting right now."

   With that she turned to ask, "Do you think you're fully aroused yet,
sir?"

   My reply was a bit incoherent, something along the lines of "Urg urf
glump," as I shot a load of sperm into her hot little pussy.

   As I collapsed against the condom display, Beth laughingly scolded me.
"You shouldn't have done that, Tom, now she'll have to get you hard again."

   "Oh no, that's okay, ma'am," the blonde said brightly, standing up
straight and flipping her skirt down over that magnificent ass, "at
FuckMart the customer always comes first."

   Beth and I both groaned at Reward's attempt at punnery, but the blonde
ignored us and went on, turning to me, "You felt like a 6.7/2.4," she said,
obviously a master of her subject.  "Do you think that's close enough?"

   "I'm sure it will do just fine," I panted.  "Can you giftwrap them and
I'll pick them up?"

   "Better yet," said Beth, "deliver them - personally." Beth gave her own
address, then turned to me, adding sotto voce, "I can use an Amazon like
that in my dungeon."

   I paid for the condoms, thanked the blonde for her exceptional display
of personalized service, and wandered off with Beth to explore the rest of
the store.

   "What did you buy?" I asked, gesturing to the bag as we idled along,
glancing at a display of king-sized posters of such sexual heroes and
legends as Vlad the Impaler, Catherine the Great, the Marquis de Sade, and
the Hellfire Club - advertised as ideal for any teenager's room.

   "Just some whips and a few thumbscrews," she answered, opening the bag
to show me.

   "No racks?" I asked.

   She smiled.  "I'm having a new one delivered.  It's mahogany, and all
the fittings are in brass really attractive."

   "I'm sure the torturees will appreciate your excellent taste," I
remarked dryly.  Beth laughed and stuck out her tongue in response.

   We checked out the android department, but didn't buy anything.  A week
later, however, I found under my tree Beth's gift - a Shirley Temple
android, one of FuckMart's recent additions.

   "They had it advertised as the perfect gift for the middle-aged
pedophile," Beth told me proudly, "so naturally I thought of you, after all
your adventures with Cassie and Little Bit."

   She told me that, after seeing it during our visit, she went back the
next day and bought it for me.  "I got your cock measurement from the
condom counter," she said, pleased at her cleverness, "but then I asked
them to bring Shirley's pussy down a couple of sizes from that, since she's
supposed to be a little girl, so she should be extra-tight." She beamed at
me: "They knew just what I was talking about - they said they do the same
sort of thing for all their pedos."

   It was a thoughtful present, and I really did enjoy it, though I soon
got tired of the android being programmed to sing "Good Ship Lollipop"
every time I asked for a blowjob a design flaw that I understand was
corrected in later models.  I eventually gave it to Little Bit as a
playmate.

   There always seemed to be a special highlight of each visit to Fuckmart.
I thought the Custom Condom Counter was going to fill the role this time,
but we hadn't yet visited FM's new video department.

   "What's new about a video department?" you ask.  Well, of course
FuckMart had had one for years, but this one had a new feature - video
viewing booths.

   "Yawn," you yawn.  "Them and every other porn palace."

   But your neighborhood dirty bookstore doesn't have booths that allow you
to enter virtual reality versions of popular movies and modify them into
personalized pornflicks.

   When we first entered the video section, Beth and I were intending only
to pass through it, but we were stopped by a FuckMart employee who asked if
we had tried the new feature.  After explanations, Beth and I decided to
give it a try.

   Seated on a comfortable sofa (there were single and double booths, as
well as accommodations for larger groups), Beth and I turned on the TV,
which gave us a listing of our choices.

   Beth suggested that we watch the Tom Hanks hit "Shaving Ryan's
Privates", but I demurred, not enjoying gory movies.  I think I've
mentioned I prefer the classics, so we checked what they had in that
category.

   They had an Astaire/Rogers favorite of mine, "The Gay Divorcee", but I
was immediately frightened off by the thought of where the title might lead
us.  Similarly with Deanna Durbin's "100 Men and a Girl" - no doubt this
version of the innocent, whimsical classic would have the young soprano
involved in a gangbang of epic proportions.

   The next item on the list was a natural, though - the week before
Christmas, how could we not choose to watch "It's a Wonderful Life"?

   We clicked on the movie, then sat back to watch.  Although nothing
special happened, and as far as we could see there was just an ordinary TV
in front of us, somehow we were actually in the TV, a part of the movie, at
the same time that we were watching it.

   The movie ran in a sort of fast-forward mode through the familiar
opening scenes as the idiot uncle loses the bank deposit, and up to the
scene where Jimmy Stewart stands on the bridge contemplating suicide.  As
he prepares to jump, the angel stops him and says . . . .

   No, it's not an angel, it's a devil, and he's saying, "You know, George,
maybe if you stopped being such a tight-assed do-gooder and started having
some fun, you wouldn't want to kill yourself."

   The devil then proceeded to show George the fun he and Potter could have
if they worked together for the betterment of the community.  "With the war
over, the town needs something to give the economy a boost," he argued
civic-mindedly.

   "You and Potter could turn this burg into something hot - and you could
make a ton of money while you're at it," the devil said convincingly.

   "Nothing that would bother your neighborhood, of course," Mephistopheles
went on reassuringly.  "Just a couple after-hours dives on the other side
of the tracks - places with a little gambling in the back, and maybe a room
or two where the girls can work." His voice was very soothing - it
certainly seemed to make sense, much better than running a little savings
and loan that constantly teetered on the edge.

   "Throw in a few small whorehouses - maybe one that's a bit nicer where
the guys from your neighborhood can go for a little discreet relaxation - a
street or two where the cops won't bother the street girls - hell, this
could be a fun town, and you and Potter get a percentage of everything off
the top."

   Now I realized with a start that George was no longer Jimmy Stewart, he
was me.  And the devil was leading George, who was beginning to nod at the
wisdom of the plan, toward a ramshackle bar on a dark street, lit only by
the garish neon signs on several such bars.  The one we were approaching
had a pink sign that flickered the words "Tony's Play Room".

   "And it's not just the money," said Meph.  "There's all sorts of
benefits to this kind of deal."

   And with that we stepped into the dimly-lit interior of the Play Room.
The place was reasonably full, without being crowded - there were a couple
or two at most of the tables, sometimes just a few guys.  There were a few
more women at the bar, who looked me over as I came in.  A garish jukebox
played a swing tune I didn't recognize, just a bit too loud for my taste.
Not loud enough though to cover up the whoops of laughter from a tipsy
blonde in a corner booth as she was groped by her thoroughly drunk
boyfriend.  In the bits of silence the clink of pool balls could be heard
in the background.  I couldn't see the tables - but I couldn't see much
through the smoke.  I could see though that my escort had disappeared.

   "Hey, Mr.  Bailey," I was greeted enthusiastically by the bartender.  He
waved me over.  "Hey, Liz, make room for Mr.  Bailey," he said to a frowzy
redhead, shooing her away from the bar, and almost simultaneously putting a
whiskey and soda in front of me.  He waved away my attempt to pay with a
laugh - "You know you never gotta pay for nothin' at Tony's, Mr.  Bailey."

   I smiled my thanks and found myself asking, "Where's Edna?", immediately
wondering who the hell Edna was, and as quickly realizing that she was my
usual companion when I visited this dive.

   "She left with a customer about ten minutes ago," Tony answered
apologetically, then leaned over the bar to speak confidentially.  "We got
a hot little number here, a new girl, and maybe you can give me a little
help with her."

   "What sort of help?" I asked noncommittally.

   Tony looked around before lowering his voice.  "She says she's eighteen,
but I ain't so sure.  I should probably chase her out, but," he paused and
sighed, "she's sure good for business - she's had guys buying her drinks
all night."

   He pointed down the bar, to where two guys stood on each side of an
attractive brunette in a low-cut red dress.  As she raised a cigarette to
her bright-red lips, she glanced in my direction.  It was Beth.

   "So, what I was hoping, Mr.  Bailey," Tony went on, becoming steadily
more obsequious, "was that, if there's any problem about her, maybe you
could square it with the cops."

   "Maybe I ought to get to know her, Tony," I suggested.

   He leered and winked.  "Sure thing, Mr.  Bailey." He immediately headed
to the other end of the bar.  The two guys with Beth objected, it appeared,
but Tony ignored them, and they stopped their complaints when a couple very
large guys who had been seated in a far corner stepped up behind them and
put hands on their shoulders.

   In a moment Tony was back, and Beth was sliding gracefully onto the
barstool next to mine.  I recognized the same teenaged Beth I'd had a few
encounters with before, though this one wore a great deal more make-up, and
sported a beauty mark on her left cheek.  She was also a bit bustier, and
emphasized it with a tight dress and a neckline that showed plenty of firm
cleavage.

   She didn't recognize me, but Tony made sure she knew who I was.  "Beth,
this is Mr.  Bailey - he's a very special customer here, so make sure you
treat him right."

   "Sure, Tony," she said, as he left to bring her a drink.  "So who are
you that Tony thinks you're so special?" she asked, her voice familiar to
me, but just a bit throatier perhaps a result of too much smoking.

   "Nothing special," I answered modestly.  "Just somebody with a lot of
friends like Tony.  He does favors for me, like introducing me to pretty
girls," she smiled at the compliment, "and sometimes I do favors for him."

   "So you want to be my friend?" she asked, smiling.  She pulled out a
cigarette, leaning forward as I lit it to show even more of the cleavage.
She wasn't wearing a bra, but those tits needed no help standing up.

   I ignored the question (but not the tits).  "So now tell me about you -
like how old you are."

   She stiffened.  "What are you, a cop?" she hissed.  She shook her
beautiful hair, worn in bangs on her forehead, and curled softly at her
shoulders.

   "You think Tony would introduce an underage girl to a cop?"

   "I ain't underage - how old do you think I am?"

   "I think you're trying real hard to look older than you are." I
appraised her.  "Seventeen probably - maybe sixteen."

   She looked defiant for a moment, then gave it up.  "Okay, so I'm
seventeen - so what are you going to do about it?  Send me home?" She
laughed - a short hard laugh.  "My mother's gone to god knows where, and my
dad's drunk.  You send me home, who's gonna feed the old sot?"

   "I'm not looking to send you home," I assured her.  "But the cops will
ask questions if you stay around here - that's what Tony's worried about.
You'll need some help staying out of trouble."

   "And that's where you come in?"

   I smiled.  "I told you - I've got friends who like to do favors for me."

   "And your friends can make the cops look the other way?"

   "Right."

   "And in return, you want me to do some favors for you?" She laughed that
short laugh again.  I nodded.  She shrugged.  "Why not?"

   I asked Tony if #1 was available.  It was the best of the small rooms in
back, and the one I usually used if it was free.  It wasn't, and Tony
apologetically directed us to #3.  I followed the girl through the
poolroom, watching her firm little ass wiggling provocatively in the tight
red dress.  Every male eye followed her hungrily as she passed.  She knew
what she was doing to them, and she enjoyed doing it.

   When we got to #3, I felt her ass as she unlocked the door.  "Can't
wait, huh?" she asked with a laugh, as she wiggled the delightful butt to
make sure I got a good feel.

   The room was dismal and dingy, but not dirty.  It was barely wider than
the double bed and lit by only a single weak bulb hanging on a cord from
the ceiling.  Other than the bed and a broken chair, there was a small
nightstand with a full ashtray and a sink with a dripping faucet.

   As we entered the room I remembered the drunken father, and asked her
what her usual price was.  "Fifteen," she said.

   "Come on," I snorted, "nobody here gets more than ten - most of them
five, or maybe seven."

   "None of them are as good as me," she said seductively.  "You'll see. 
Besides," she laughed, "I'm underage, remember?"

   I gave her twenty.  She looked at me wonderingly, saying "I thought this
was going to be a freebie," but took the money quickly and stuffed it in
the small bag she carried.

   "I remembered about your father," I answered.  "Buy him a bottle."

   "I'll buy him a couple," she said, coming tight against me and rubbing
her breasts against my chest.  Then she reached up to bring my head down
for a kiss, and I felt my lips pressing against her warm, red mouth.  Then
she pressed harder against me and her tongue entered my mouth, touching my
tongue before she pulled slightly away to ask, "How do you want it, babe?"

   I reached behind her, pulling down the zipper in the back of her dress,
as my other hand grabbed one of her tits and squeezed hard and I pulled her
to me for another deep kiss, this time my tongue going deep into her.

   "I want it slow, and long, and hot, and hard," I said as I pulled away,
then lowered the top of her dress and grabbed her tit again.  "You've been
showing these all night," I said.

   "I saw you looking," she laughed.  "And I figured you liked what you
saw."

   "I like them even better now that I can feel them," I answered.  I
lowered my mouth and pulled in one big puffy nipple, sucking hard as I
squeezed the other.

   "Oh babe, that's good," she cooed.  "I love it when guys suck my tits."

   I continued sucking for a few minutes, then backed her against the bed
and sat her down on the edge.  "Now you can suck on me," I said, opening my
pants.

   She smiled up at me as she took my cock in her hand.  Then she licked
the head, then the stalk, and finally smiled again before sucking it slowly
into her mouth.  "You're gonna like this," she said tantalizingly.

   She was right.  It was a typical Beth blowjob - which means a damned
good one.  But I can't explain fully the sensations, because they were part
real, part imagined, part first-hand, part voyeuristic.  I was both
experiencing Beth's blowjob, and watching a beautiful teenaged whore give
some guy (who just happened to be me) a blowjob.

   I watched myself as my cock slid in and out of her bright red lips,
glistening with her saliva as she sucked and licked.  I looked down and
realized that I was jacking myself off as I watched, like a guy in a porn
shop booth (which is, I realized, exactly what I was).  I looked over at
Beth, who was staring slack-jawed and glassy-eyed at herself giving me a
blowjob, her hands buried deep in her pants.

   I grabbed the teen's head and held her tight as I stroked a few times
into her mouth, then released her.  She pulled herself farther up on the
bed, removing her dress as she did so.  Then she spread her legs and spoke
huskily, "Climb on, honey," she grinned.  "It's time to ride the Beth
Express."

   As her legs spread, her slit opened slightly, revealing the crimson
interior.  As she saw me looking, the young Beth smiled lewdly and reached
between her legs with both hands to pull wide the lips of her vagina.  "You
like that, sweetheart?" she asked.  "It's all hot and wet for you," she
added, putting a finger on her clit and rubbing it lightly.

   I paid tribute to the beauty of the sight by replacing her finger with
my tongue, giving her clit a couple light licks.  She was, as she had said,
hot and wet.

   She shivered with pleasure as my tongue stroked her clit.  "It's good to
see someone who enjoys her work," I remarked.  I caressed the little clit a
few more times, but my cock was demanding that I make him the center of
attention again.

   As I stretched over her, her hand reached up to softly guide me into her
tight little hole.  As my cock settled at the entrance to her vagina, she
released it, putting her hands on my shoulders and sucking in her breathe
softly as she pushed her hips forward, slowly taking me in.

   When I was deep in her she raised up her head to kiss me, then wiggled
her hips slowly, as though to get me in further.  "Like your little
underage whore?" she asked with a wicked grin.

   "I like," I answered.

   We stopped talking then as we got into a steady rhythm, my downward
strokes being met by her pussy driving up, the only sound being occasional
grunts of exertion.  Then as we drove on and the pace increased, the teen
beneath me began to whimper softly.

   Her moans increased as her arms tightened around my neck and her legs
locked around my back and her pussy pushed harder and harder against me. 
"Oh god, yes," she hissed in my ear once, then returned to the moans and
whimpers.

   The me that was watching realized that my hand was getting sticky as I
stroked my hard cock, and I knew that I was getting close to shooting.  I
leaned back, hearing Beth panting desperately beside me, but couldn't take
my eyes off the scene of myself and the young Beth/whore fucking in a dingy
brothel.

   I had lowered myself onto her and held her tight as I slammed my cock
repeatedly into her.  She held me as tightly and fucked back with all her
strength, urging me on with her heels digging into my ass and with her
grunts and sobbing breaths.

   On and on we fucked, the tired old bedsprings creaking ever louder as
the bed bounced.  The girl's sighs and whimpers grew louder as well, as did
the other Beth's, until finally they became one long, continuous moan,
steadily rising in pitch until her body went rigid and she released the
pressure that had built up inside her in one piercing cry.  I fucked twice
more into the immobilized girl and then I too stiffened as I shot into her.
Long jets of sperm washed into her pussy, and then I collapsed atop her.

   The me that was watching also shot a jet of sperm into the air, as the
Beth beside me slumped back on the sofa, finally laying her head on my
shoulder.

   The four people (or two times two people, depending on how you count) in
the room remained silent for a few moments, until at last the teen Beth
recovered enough to say, "I think I'm gonna like having you for a friend.
Wanna do me again?  Free this time," she quickly added.

   I didn't think I could handle it and switched off the movie.

   The Beth on the sofa smiled the sleepy smile of a satisfied woman as I
leaned back beside her and she put her head on my shoulder again.

   Her pants had a huge stain, though luckily they were dark, and the room
smelled of her musky odor.  There was a pool of my sperm on the floor.

   "Omigod," she sighed, "I've never been so deliciously fucked in my
life."

   "Probably because it was your own imagination fucking you," I replied.
"And I understand the feeling."

   "Fuck me, Tom," she said a moment later, placing her hand softly on my
cock.

   "Are you sure it won't be a letdown?" I asked, ironically.

   "Just shut up and fuck me," she insisted again.

   

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