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Message-ID: <31160asstr$993834605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Phil Phantom <pp@philphantom.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Mister Roger's Neighborhood
Date: Fri, 29 Jun 2001 13:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "mr.rogers-neighborhood-pp.txt" begin>

                    Mister Roger's Neighborhood
                         By: Phil Phantom
                      HTTP://www.PhilPhantom.Com

	Join Now - Phantom Base Sale - Check It Out !!!!

I went to borrow my neighbor's hedge trimmers from his open
garage and stumbled onto a bonanza of pussy when pussy was the
furthest thing from my mind, which was rare in itself, but when I
am working with power tools and sharp objects, I force my mind
out of my shorts. What I overheard coming from inside the house
was four women talking about men, sex, cheating, what turns them
on, off, what works, and what doesn't - pussy pay dirt. Three of
those four were visions from my wetdreams - the three I most
wanted to fuck. They were unknowingly telling me exactly how to
go about scoring. It was no wonder I got nowhere. I was doing the
exact opposite, or doing the right thing exactly wrong.

I was fucking the fourth, my wife, and learned from her own
cheating lips that she was a whore for her boss, acting like she
hated being used to swing deals, win friends, and influence
people when, in fact, she loved earning her meager paychecks by
spreading her legs or sucking cock. I heard her say that her boss
was a twenty-four caret asshole, three-hundred pounds of sexual
harassment, verbally abusive, treated her like a whore, loved
showing her off and making her grovel to keep her job, and that
she absolutely loved that job and serving Jabba the Hut. The hard
part was never letting it show at work or at home.

The ladies had a good laugh at the way I push Joann to keep
taking shit off that asshole. He calls for her at all hours, and
I push her out the door at all hours. He keeps her out to all
hours and has kept her out all night. I know, I'm a fucking
idiot, but I figured he was fucking her. You gotta fuck the boss
or give head to get ahead. Facts of life. Stop your whining. Go
and spread thy legs, worker bee.

I had no idea I was pushing her into whoring. I felt like a fool,
but the ladies thought I was great, the perfect husband, and it
was the consensus of opinion that since I knew and pushed, I
probably got off on it, or did it for Joann because I could see
how much she needed to cheat but needed the push. Joann thought
that was possible, that she always wondered but never had the
guts to ask, but it would be just like me to give her what she
needed.

Joann put in a great plug for me, which came as a great surprise
and greatly tempered my temper. She said I was great in bed and
always horny, that I was hung and took my time, that my only
shortcoming was treating her like a delicate flower when she
wanted her ass mowed like crab grass. Then came the real plug.
She said, "If you decide to cheat close to home, don't rule out
my Clifford. He will not disappoint, and the poor man isn't
getting enough, can't get enough, and will still be fucking you
two hours after you drift off to sleep. I feel guilty. I would
consider it a personal favor. I mean that."

I couldn't believe my ears. I wanted to run in there, swoop her
into my arms, and kiss that cheating whore all over, but
especially right between her fucking legs. I thought about all
the times I did that and she tasted funny. How would I know what
cum tastes like. I guess I do, now, but I didn't. At least, I
wasn't aware - at first. Sperm ain't that bad, really - kind of
tangy, salty, bleachy, sticky - snot with an attitude. The
cheating whore had some nerve letting me go down on her - at
first. She knew what it was - but I digress.

My number one hard-throb, Sharon, the owner of the electric hedge
trimmers I held, and in whose garage I eaves dropped from, a
tall, leggy, drop-dead-gorgeous honey-blonde honey of a wife,
said, "I'd fuck him, but I'm like you. I want a cave man to take
me, not a lover to seduce me. I know he wants me, but he goes
about it all wrong. I think he wants to date me and get Harold's
permission. I don't need a fucking lover, and I am not going to
cheat unless I get it the way I want it, and any man who hasn't
got the balls to take it away from Harold isn't worthy."

Donna, a drop-dead gorgeous redhead, lively, fun, vivacious, and
built, said, "I'll second that, but a man has to dance his way
into my bed. I cannot say no to a good dancer. I learned years
ago that a man dances the way he fucks. The awkward and clumsy
are awkward and clumsy in bed. If they care more about the way
they look out on the dance floor instead of paying attention to
me, they are exactly like that in bed. How is he on the dance
floor, Joann?"

"I think he's a very good dancer. We just don't do enough of it,
but I agree with you. Clifford does dance the way he fucks. The
trouble is, I don't want him because he is the man I'm supposed
to fuck, and he refuses to pay. If you like to Jitterbug and
Jitterfuck, strap on Cliff and try to follow his lead."

Donna said, "Ummm, Jitterfuck, sounds like fun."

Stacy Ruckles went by Bunny because that was a handle that fit -
that or Chuckles Ruckles. Bunny was a young Georgia peach, and
pretty as a peach, soft as a bunny, kinda shy, blushes easy, a
living doll with a peachy body, well educated with a mind as
sharp as a powder puff. Bunny Ruckles is living proof that dumb
blondes can be educated. The others are all in their mid
thirties, but Bunny is in her mid twenties, the baby of the
group. I was surprised to hear her in a conversation like this,
but she was right in there offering her opinions on cheating.
Joann, being queen cheater was her new hero. I think her old hero
was Joan of Arc for dedicating her life to perfecting the
barbeque.

Bunny said, "Give me a sweet talking gentleman in a three-piece
suit. I seduce so easy. Splash on some Old Spice and whisper in
my ear how badly you want me, nothing crude, but let me know
exactly how you feel, exactly what you want, and what exactly
about my body excites you, then waltz me to a bed, Romeo, because
I am all yours. Unfortunately, Clifford stops by in shorts and a
T-shirt, all sweaty, gets a hardon he doesn't try to hide, and
tells me I look hot. Wrong!"

The ladies had a good laugh, and Joann says, "Don't be too hard
on him, Bunny. He can't help but get a hardon around you, and
there is no hiding one of his in those thin gym shorts he wears.
Him saying you look hot was Clifford speechless. How hot were you
looking, girl? Clifford is rarely that speechless."

Bunny said, "I was hot hot, and he was speechless. All I had on
was a skimpy towel. This last time, which was last Saturday, was
by far the hottest Cliff ever saw me. I didn't know anyone was in
the house. Rodney let him in while I was in the shower. I come
bopping out after making love to my shower wand, totally
satisfied, at peace with the world, nice glow, tingly pussy, and
there's Cliff, all bug-eyed with his mouth open. BOING!"

They all laughed. They had a good picture. I did go boing. That
was a very skimpy towel barely covering a very lovely body all
aglow. She just stood there letting me take it all in as her brat
five-year-old came and stood at her right side and wrapped an arm
around her right leg at the upper thigh with a devilish look in
his eyes, stroking her inner thigh with the other hand as though
saying, "What'll you give me to show you her blonde bunnypussy?"

She can see the threat but makes no move to defend her threatened
modesty, and I wondered if Bunny would tell the rest, because the
rest is my most memorable day in Mr. Roger's neighborhood.

By the way, I am Mr. Rogers - Cliff Rogers - and they do call my
section of Goldenrod Street Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I sell Life
Insurance, but I am also Mr. Fixit, Mr. Find-it, Mr. Mow-it, Mr.
Water-it. I am the pool maintenance crew and the neighborhood
watch. In the evenings, I manage to sell a few insurance
policies, but days and weekends, I am in my neighborhood taking
care of my neighbors with their stuff. I make myself so valuable
that any husband who walks in and catches me in bed with his wife
would apologize for disturbing me. That has yet to happen, but it
could if the wives would get into a bed with me.

After the laughter dies down, I hear Bunny say, "He came over to
return something or other. He knows where the garage is, but I
know why he's inside my house when Bart isn't. This wasn't the
first time your husband has come sniffing around my house looking
for pussy. It was about the hundredth, but he was getting an
eyeful this time thanks to Rodney. The little fucker came and
hung on my leg like he owned it and was looking for a buyer. I
knew that little brat was going to show Mr. Rogers my blonde
bunny pussy. I think Cliff knew it. He was looking where pussy
was, then there it was, freshly shaved totally bald, not one
blonde hair in sight, puffed-up and rosy red, puking out its pink
guts, saying, 'Hi Sailor!'"

More laughs and praise for Rodney, then Bunny says, "He got his
peek, got several good long peeks, and a few peeks at my bare
ass. The funny part was, Cliff is always trying to get me to
prove that I'm a real blonde by showing him the pubic hair
between my legs, but there isn't any. Once a year I shave it all
off, and this was the day I picked to do that. Rodney was selling
a defective blonde but determined to make a sale. There was no
stopping that boy from showing off the best parts of his sexy
mommy to the horny man. He eventually gets my towel away from me
and plays keep away until I give up, face Cliff, and apologize
for my rude son. I am not shielding a damn thing, naked as a
jaybird, acting fully dressed, talking to a bug-eyed man with a
hardon who refused to look me in the eyes or acknowledge the fact
that his shorts were down around his ankles."

I heard Sharon add, "Where they usually are when Rodney is
around. Joann you didn't need to tell anyone at this table that
your hubby is hung. We have seen his privates hanging, swinging,
swaying, standing at ease, and standing at attention. I swear he
pays that boy."

And Donna add, "So am I and everyone seated at this table and
frolicking in Sharon's pool. The kid must be raking it in. I have
seen Cliff speechless, and he has seen me speechless. We have all
been speechless, so let she who has never blushed in a crowd or
ever wore Rodney-proof attire around Rodney cast the first
accusing finger at one who played, 'I showed you mine, now show
me yours.'"

They all laughed in agreement, then Bunny says, "Yes, we were
playing Rodney's game - again - but we had never played down to
birthday suits. We both owed Rodney a buck and a big tip. Cliff
was hard and speechless, and I was hot hot, which is hot plus
horny, and a bald pussy between my legs always makes me horny and
hot. If he hadn't said a fucking word, just took me by the hand,
stepped free of his shorts, and led me into the bedroom, I would
be confessing an act of adultery right now. Instead, he tells my
bald pussy I look hot, then waits for an invitation. Wrong! Next
contestant, please."

Damn, I was so close. Joann apologized for me. She then
apologized to Sharon because I wouldn't treat her like a slut,
but said it would help if she'd act like one and start dressing
like one. Lose the panties, lose the bra, show more skin, and
shoot beavers. To Donna, she says, "The next time Bud goes out of
town on business, invite Clifford and I out dancing. I'll beg out
but encourage Clifford to go. He'll leap at the opportunity."

"Honey, I do not need to wait for Bud to go out of town to go on
a date with Mr. Fix-it, Mow-it, Grow-it, and Stow-it. Cliff is
one man Bud would massage me to fuck. I'll fuck a dog for a good
massage."

"Fine, then make a date with my horny lap dog. See how he does,
and if all goes well, keep him all night. Hell, I owe him. If
you'll do me that favor, I'll owe you."

Donna very suggestively said, "Owe me what, a dance or a
massage?"

Joann said, "If you're interested, sure, I'll dance with you. I
have danced with a few girls in my day, and a few times to music.
You decide. We can put on music or make our own."

We all knew what she was alluding to, and the other two ladies
sounded like the audience in a low budget afternoon sitcom with
all their ohhhs and ahhhs. Then I hear Sharon commenting to
Bunny, "Maybe we should leave these two alone. Sounds like they'd
like to do the Lesbo Tango."

Bunny says, "I want to watch. I have never seen two chicks get it
on. I may want Joann to owe me, but I need dancing lessons."

Sharon says to Joann, "How about that deal, Joann? Lesbo Tango
lessons for a spouse fuck? I'm game. I'll even let Bunny watch
and she can bring Rodney. He's a cute little fucker. I'm sure
he'd like that."

My wife said, "Sell tickets. I'm a fucking whore, a bisexual
fucking whore, and I don't care who knows it. I do, but I
wouldn't if he didn't mind, and I doubt that he would if he was
getting all the pussy he wants. I'm serious. Fuck his brains out.
Show no mercy. Take no prisoners. For every fuck, I'll give head
and give you ten minutes to draw a crowd. I'm not at all bashful.
Just ask Jabba."

That's where I left because Harold drove up, but I heard all I
needed to hear to make my fucking day. I floated out on a cloud
with a hardon. Harold noticed and said, "Be carefully with those
trimmers, Big Guy. If you lop off a few inches, Sharon will stop
threatening to bear you a child."

I smiled, but Harold was always saying shit like that. He was
saying it to the wrong man, now. I took three steps, turned, and
said, "You tell your wife to get off the pill and stop wearing
panties. I have nine thick inches of happiness in these shorts,
and she is not getting one inch until I see she's ready."

That left him speechless. I felt pretty good. I wondered if he'd
tell her what I said. I wondered if she'd do it. Sharon wears the
shortest skirts, and with those long legs of hers, they look even
shorter. Sharon without panties - now there is a walking
wetdream. The problem is, she usually has a houseful of kids.
They have three kids and a pool, so their house is a kid magnet.
The kids are usually out by the pool, but they are in and out.
That would make it difficult to play hostess with no panties or
be anything but a lady.

Then again, she wouldn't be showing anything we hadn't seen.
Rodney practically lives at her house all summer. I have never
seen Sharon in anything Rodney-proof. What she wears is the
female counterpart to loose gym shorts, all fucking summer long,
and that had more to do with Sharon being my number-one hard
throb. I see more of her more often than anyone else. Donna runs
a distant second, with Bunny trailing way behind the rest. It was
worth a shot.

I couldn't believe my good fortune. If they were serious, it
sounded like I could fuck them all. I wished I could have stayed
longer to hear more of their lesbian banter. They may have just
been kidding around and teasing each other, or they may have been
dead serious and wanting to start something. I certainly would
have followed up on that doggie comment Donna made, but they let
it slide. Without being able to see them, it was difficult to
tell, but it sure sounded serious, and sounded like that was the
first time they broached the Lesbo subject, like they were
feeling each other out. I never knew Joann was like that, but I
knew she got it on with a few chicks in high school. She sure
sounded like she still hungered for the gash. Hell, she sounded
like a fucking exhibitionist. If so, that was news to me or my
three.

My three are all boys who would very much appreciate an
exhibitionist mother. We have seen no evidence of the
exhibitionist whore she was speaking of. She goes out and
sometimes all night, but she doesn't go out dressed like a whore,
nor does she come back looking like a fucked whore. If what she
was telling those women was true, then she did her best to hide
it. She complains bitterly of having to work all night, or late
into the night, having to meet supposed deadlines. I doubt the
boys were ever suspicious. Then again, they never ate her pussy
after an all nighter.

I have eaten a lot of fucked pussy come to think of it. You would
think she would discourage me, but she never does. After a hard
night at the office, she finds a thorough licking out relaxing.
I'm a sweetheart to do that with no expectation of getting any
pussy, because she is so tired, exhausted, pooped. The man is a
slave driver.

I could tell. I'm sure she could tell that I could tell. The mess
demanded comment, but I never did, just ate. I figured I sent her
out to get fucked by a giant slug, the least I could do was give
her a cheap thrill by cleaning up the mess it made. I'm sure she
told them all about that before I got there, because they seemed
to know, and that was why they were under the impression that I
knew and got off on it, or knew she needed a push in order to
cheat. I lick her pussy after she cheats, and that made me the
perfect husband. I can't say I wanted to wear the T-shirt, but if
it would get me any of that pussy, I'd wear the damn thing while
mowing their lawn.

I'm not kidding. The finest pussy in town lives on my street, and
are all deeply indebted to me. With the exception of Bunny's
Rodney, our kids are the same ages - ages 10 to 15 - and play
together. I have three boys. Sharon has three girls. Donna has
one of each, and they all have to watch and watch out for Rodney.
The little fucker loves yanking bathing suit bottoms down - tops,
too - gym shorts - panties - towels. The kid is a general terror
and on a campaign to free privates.

The kids, four boys and four girls, owe Rodney a ton of money.
Thanks to Rodney, they all see each other naked all fucking day
long. To hear them, you would think otherwise, and to watch them,
you would swear they couldn't see him. Sharon plays pool police.
She enforces rules by forcing time-outs. Suits must stay on.
Rodney doesn't get much pool time, but he is safer in the water
than out. Out of water, he is a threat to adults, Sharon in
particular.

Sharon is as transparent as the kids are. She could put a stop to
his antics, but all she does is give him time-outs and lectures
that he takes with a grin. I have seen her swat his fanny, but he
likes that game. Yanking her panties and running is fun. Dropping
her tube top is fun. When she isn't wearing her tube top, she is
wearing her bathing suit top - same thing. The bottoms have ties
at each hip. Either bow can drop them. When she saw what a
problem Rodney was, she went out and bought the perfect suit -
for Rodney. While she was out bikini shopping, I was out shopping
for gym shorts.

My neighborhood was now deep into a summer of flesh and
familiarity thanks to Rodney and Sharon's pool. Everyone knew
where to go to see flesh. Everyone knew where to go to show what
you've got. By August, The eight families that make up my
neighborhood all knew each other intimately. We knew who had the
biggest dick - yours truly. We knew who shaved their pussy, who
trimmed their pussy, who had the best tits [Donna], the best
nipples [Sharon], the finest ass [Bunny], the best combination
[my Joann]. The best tended to hang out at Sharon's place if
Rodney was at Sharon's place, and Rodney just about lived there
once school let out for the summer.

Sharon and I are the two adults who are home during the day, so
we are the most familiar. You can imagine where I spend most of
my time. There was no reason Sharon and I weren't lovers. We were
great friends with great bodies. We liked seeing each other's
private parts, and we shared the common pleasure of exposing our
privates to children, along with the joy of seeing youthful
nudity. We could admit that, and we could admit that other adults
weren't as mature as we were. There was absolutely no reason the
two of us shouldn't be fucking, but we weren't, mostly because
she would never take the initiative, and I was afraid to. She
didn't look like the type that would go that far, or go far away
to do it, or over to my place, leaving the kids unchaperoned.
There was also the problem that Sharon didn't cheat. She only
hinted that she might.

We knew the kids would fuck if they knew no adults were watching
from behind dark patio doors. They kept coming over to check.
Certain areas, blind spots, were strictly off limits. Being
caught in a restricted area was a one-hour time-out, so they did
most of their fucking in the pool. We had three tattle tales with
goggles - Donna's eleven-year-old girl, Tracy; Sharon's youngest,
ten-year-old Shannon; and Rodney. They would slide the door,
dripping, still wearing goggles, and point out the fuckers:
"They're doing it! I saw."

Being seen "doing it" with at least one other witness was
one-hour standing on opposite sides of the pool, but tattling was
also one hour in a chair. No penalty was imposed on a witness.
Sometimes, it was worth it, and sometimes it was more fun to just
watch. There was far more tattling than witnessing. Tattled-on
fuckers didn't need to stop if no witness could be found. The
best way to keep on fucking was to show more to the potential
witnesses. It was very hard to find a witness if the girl had one
foot sticking up out of the water with curled toes.

An awful lot of fucking went on in Sharon's pool. Sharon's two
teenage daughters were easy for the three teenage boys, but they
were both on the pill. Sharon didn't really care, saw nothing
wrong with youthful screwing, but would not give an official
sanction to it - not because that would be wrong, but to keep sex
a challenge. Screwing should never be that easy or come without
consequences, but the consequences should never be so severe as
to discourage screwing.

When she said that, I said, "I could not agree more, and I
greatly appreciated having three fine pussies right next door
that my horny lads can screw to their heart's content, but why
aren't we screwing? We have consequences, plenty of tattlers, and
lots of witnesses."

She smiled and said, "No one would tattle, no one would bear
witness, and what consequences - pregnancy? I'm on the pill. You
can forget Rodney as a tattler or a witness. He has told on you
and me so often that Harold and Joann just pat him on the head
and send him off with a thank-you. I hope you know you rape me
all day long and cum in my pussy all day long, but that's because
I am always dancing naked for you and showing you my pussy. I'm
sure they believe some of what he says. I say again, what
consequences?"

It was true. Everyone thought we were screwing. We acted like
lovers who were screwing. There were three women who now knew
that we weren't, but until Sharon told them the truth, they were
sure we were. I never let on that we weren't, not even to my wife
who was okay with it. Joann knew that our boys were fucking
Sharon's daughters. She'd seen it. Everyone had seen the little
sluts putting out in the pool. Watching the fucking kids was a
popular pass time. One would assume that the mother was as easy,
and easiest for the most hung that she owed the most to. Harold
didn't have to lift a finger around that house and could fish his
ass off.

You can imagine how relieved I was to find out that all I had to
do in Sharon's case was take it, rape her. She wouldn't cheat
unless she got it her way, and that was her way. Someone had to
take it from Harold. Fine, I could do that, but I don't mind
telling you that I was not just a little pissed at Sharon for not
telling me. We wasted the better part of a great summer playing
footsie, all because, like a typical woman, she wanted me to
guess how to go about getting in her pants.

Sharon can be very frustrating, as can Bunny for different
reasons, but Donna was like a breath of fresh air. Donna didn't
play games. A man knew where he stood with Donna. She wanted to
fuck, but wouldn't fuck a friend's husband. I could play with her
hooters while rubbing my naked cock between her legs, and she'd
let me, but she'd tell me to bring a note from my wife if I
wanted to get my dick wet. I didn't think I could do that, but it
was fun taking off all of her clothes and getting the head of my
dick wet, or creaming her crotch for her. I did that a great
deal, what she called a lube job.

I was in my garage tinker fucking with a neighbor's swamp cooler
motor about an hour after Harold came home, when who should come
strolling in wearing her bikini than Mrs. Lube Job, all smiling
and sexy like. She comes over and leanes back against my work
bench, smiles, and says, "Guess what I have?"

"A wet pussy?"

"Besides that."

"A husband who wants to watch you fuck another man?"

"Besides that."

"A sexy little girl with a tight pussy?"

"Besides that, and I can no longer vouch for tight pussy. I have
Sharon and your three sons to thank for that."

"Did you thank her?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I haven't gotten around to thanking
your three boys, but turning a blind eye to their activities in
my home should be thanks enough, don't you agree?"

"That depends. How blind are you?"

"I have a strict knock-before-entering policy, knock and wait, my
see-no-evil policy, same as Sharon's. Satisfied?"

"Very, so what brings you?"

"Aren't we Mr. Aloof? Are you no longer interested in pussy?"

I stopped tinker-fucking to look her over and smile, saying, "I'm
always interested in the one you have."

"Then act like it, because I have a note from your wife."

I acted pleasantly surprised and said, "Is that a fact? How did
this come about?"

"Girl talk. It might interest you to know that we all have notes
- me, Sharon, and Bunny all have notes."

"Three notes?"

"I believe there are notes all around. The others just don't
know, yet. I'm not here on behalf of the others. I am here on my
behalf, our behalf. If you want to get your dick wet, stud, I can
wet it, but there is something I want from you."

"Cum?"

"That, too, but take me out dancing. I hear you are a great
dancer. I hear you can Jitterfuck. Show me - tonight."

"Sounds like a date."

"I want a date. Well, is it a date?"

"I'll pick you up at eight."

"Can Bud come along?"

"Sure, but you're my date."

"He understands. He'll behave. See you at eight, and bring your
toothbrush." She took a few steps, stopped, took both ties at her
hips and pulled, dropping her suit bottoms, then the top, saying,
"Return these." Then she walked out of my garage bare-assed
naked, buck fucking naked, casual as you please, walked right
across the street and turned left in broad daylight on a Saturday
afternoon - fucking awesome. I went out to see her walk down the
block to her house, stopping to pet a friendly dog who was
awfully friendly to her pussy while she petted him. He was
friendly all the way to her door, then went inside with her.

Damnit! I knew they should have pursued that statement. She was
ready to fess-up, take her big leap out of the bitch closet, and
they just let it go as though she were kidding. We all knew she
wasn't kidding. Why women wouldn't want to explore that subject
with a real bitch was beyond me. They obviously didn't, nor did
they feel like putting her down. They accepted what she was, and
that was that. No need to explain. Now, there was no need to
hide, and Donna wasn't. I'm not sure that anyone else saw that,
but I was sure Mr. Roger's Neighborhood hadn't seen the last of
the bold bitch. Wow!

We were already quite a neighborhood, eight families and getting
more intimate each day. Four of the families had no kids, but the
four that did were getting very tight. Our eight homes form a
little cul-de-sac community at the end of Goldenrod Street with
undeveloped blocks all around us, so there is built-in intimacy
with very little traffic. Still, what Donna just did was heavy
stuff. That took balls, but Donna had none, only excellent
hooters and guts.

I haven't said much about the four other couples or their women,
but two are elderly, and the other two are plain Janes. None are
dogs or unfuckable, but none are in a class with the other four.
I have fucked all of them many times over, been caught by all the
husbands, and kept on fucking. They were all trained and were now
fucking anybody who wanted pussy. We all knew it. Nobody cared.
Those women weren't proud. They took what they could get and were
grateful. They knew who their betters were. Not one of them would
dare look down her nose at Donna, not even if Donna were fucking
a dog on their front lawn.

What the second string thought didn't matter. Donna needed a nod
from the three other queens, and she apparently got it, or felt
she did. Maybe she got knowing smiles after that statement. Maybe
each nodded. Maybe they patted her on the head or scratched her
behind the ear. Whatever they did, Donna took that as a go-ahead
to live her life as she pleased to the point that she could
stroll out front in the nude and pick-up a mutt lover. I saw a
pick-up, and she wanted me to see one. I have seen them done with
clothes on, as had we all, but nude was much better.

With clothes on, you kinda wonder. There is always a shadow of
doubt. Why does she want a horny male dog to follow her into her
home? Does she feed them. Do they feed her. One wonders. Not so
when the bitch is naked and letting the horny dog lick her pussy.
All doubt vanishes. You know what they are going to do, and you
wonder if her kids know, and how could they not when you know
they are home. What must that be like to watch, or simply to
know, that your mother is mating with an animal?

Everyone who had ever seen Donna pick up a mutt speculated. By
August, we had all seen it many times, and many times with her
two kids at home. We even saw pick-ups while walking with her two
kids. We have seen all three enter the house with one, two, or
more eager animals. We talk a great deal behind her back, but her
kids are tight-lipped. They won't talk to adults about it, and
they won't share with their best friends. They seem to accept
what she is, but they don't want anyone to know more than they
already do. They are not ashamed, and if questioned, they will
smile and say, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Hell yes, we'd like to know, and not knowing exactly what goes on
drives Bunny batty. We talk about Donna a great deal. I am a
prime source of info. I see all and know all. When it comes to
off-beat sex, Bunny knows very little but is fascinated by
everything that other women, other mothers, and other wives are
doing. She led a very sheltered life and entered a very straight
marriage with a very average guy. She thinks others do a lot more
than they do, and do it more often in a wide variety of positions
and places. She is very nosey, and I generally know. In the case
of Donna, I could only speculate, but my speculations were as
good as fact.

I always figured I'd get Bunny one day because she is so curious
and feeling left out. No one stood a better chance with her, or
had more of an inside track, but the woman is timid, scared, and
had the same problem Donna had with regards to cheating with a
friend's husband so close to home, what she called pooping in her
nest. A smart birdie never goes poop in her nest, but that
doesn't mean she can't talk about popping in her nest, or in her
place of work, or while on vacation in Florida, or while visiting
the family back in Georgia. She loved talking about all the men
she almost did it with, or wanted to do it with, or the many who
obviously wanted to do her in all sorts of places and all sorts
of body cavities.

Some men are very straightforward. They will come right out and
tell a sexy girl exactly what they'd like to do to her, and in
which hole they'd like to do it. On her, with her sexy ass, it
was in her ass. Most wanted to pack her poop for her. She was
very curious about poop packing. She wanted to know why men
wanted to pack a woman's poop, and what they got out of doing
that. I offered to show her every time she brought the subject
up, but she never went for it, nor would she pose her bare ass
and allow me to examine it. She always reminded me that I had
seen her bare ass enough to offer an opinion and didn't need to
see it again.

After seeing her bare ass - again - we had another opportunity to
explore the subject, now with both of us naked and talking as
though were weren't naked. When I eaves dropped on her
conversation with the queens, she tried to make it sound like she
was cool and in control, but that wasn't accurate. There was none
of that next-contestant bullshit. She was horny, excited, feeling
frisky, and in no hurry to get decent. She was ready to poop in
her nest right in front of her little birdie, and I failed to
capitalize on this unique opportunity. That was the only reason
we didn't fuck standing up in her living room, and the only
reason she didn't get her poop packed. We didn't because I am a
fucking idiot, and she didn't know how to get a fucking idiot to
just go ahead and stick his dick in a hole.

She offered both as blatantly and as wantonly as a woman can. We
got to talking about her ass again, and now that I got a good
long look at it, I should be able to offer an educated opinion. I
told her I needed a better look, so she faced away and bent over,
bracing her stiff arms on knees that were a foot apart, looking
back along her side to say, "Well...if you were going to fuck me,
which hole would you do it in?"

I honestly couldn't make up my mind. Both looked so inviting.
Rodney knew which hole he wanted to see me fuck, the top one, the
butt hole: Fuck her butt hole!

At least he could make a decision. She said, "Stay out of this,
Rodney. I want his honest opinion, not yours, and don't poke me
there. Get your finger out of my ass so he can see both holes.
Rodney, stop doing that. RODNEY! Don't ever touch Mommy's pussy
after you've had your fingers in her ass. I have told you a
hundred times not to do that. It's dirty, now go wash your hands.
GO, RODNEY - NOW!" He went, and she said, "Kids...well, which
hole would you prefer?"

Any non-idiot would step up and slip his dick in her pussy, give
that juicy hole a good workout, then stick it up her ass, pack
her poop real good, and cum in her entrails. After wiping his
cock on her white ass, he might offer an opinion that she would
be most grateful for. Me? I got on my knees and pried her cheeks
apart and her puffy cunt lips with my thumbs, still unable to
decide. Rodney came back with clean hands and said, "Fuck her in
the ass and cum in her pussy. What are you waiting for? Can't you
see she wants you to fuck her?"

That was when Bunny took control, stood, turned, and said my time
was up. I blew it bad. Next contestant, please! Show the idiot to
the door. Slam! Knock knock knock. WHAT? My shorts. Wait
here...here's your fucking shorts. Slam! Damn, so close.

I wasn't as much an idiot as I was struck dumb by pussy. Few
pussies have had that dramatic an effect on me, and it wasn't
like I didn't know bunny pussy was that good. I had gotten many
glimpses. I should have been braced for a good please-fuck-me
pose and a juicy, coral-pink, fuck hole. I didn't mean to insult
her.

She got over it, but was no longer curious about her ass appeal.
She was onto Donna and doing bizarre sexual things in front of
children, or mothers doing sexual things with children, and how
much is normal and typical, and should a mother fuck her son, and
did Joann fuck her three, how often, and did I enjoy watching my
sons fuck my wife that much. Of course I did. All husbands and
fathers do.

The next female to enter my garage slapped me on the back of the
head and shouted, "Where do you get off telling Bunny that I am a
whore for our sons, or that fucking all three at once was my
favorite thing to do?"

"Owch, that hurt, Joann!"

"I want an answer, and it had best be a good answer, or I'll use
a hammer. Well?"

"I was just teasing her. Christ, she believes anything."

"Precisely why you don't tell her shit like that. She believes
it, and she is the biggest gossip on the block. Damnit, Cliff,
she had Sharon, Donna, and god knows who else believing that
shit. Three at once, my favorite thing to do! Your wife, a kiddie
whore. Your sons, motherfuckers all. Are you proud? I could be,
you know. Say the word. I'll fuck your sons - all three at once -
Bunny can watch. I didn't deny it. You want a whore? I'll show
you whore, but I won't restrict myself to kids. Well? And what is
this?"

Still rubbing the back of my head, and seeing a wife who looked
pissed, I said, "Donna left here and left without her swimsuit.
She went right out the front, strolled right down the street,
picked up a mutt, and took him into the house, letting him lick
her pussy the whole way."

"WHAT? She did that? She actually went through with it? Just
now?"

"Ten minutes ago. Why don't you go see if Bud is proud? Go bop
him on the head."

"Bud is not my concern. I'm not married to Bud. If he's fine with
his wife being a shameless bitch, doing her thing openly, that is
no concern of mine, or yours, or anyone's. Donna can fuck all the
mutts she wants, and do it in the street the way she'd like to.
No one likely to see that gives a shit. We're just tired of her
doing it behind a closed door where only her immediate family
gets to see. You are my concern. I should be yours, but I
sometimes wonder if you really give a damn, and we both know
exactly what I am talking about, don't we?"

I guess she decided to get this shit out. She didn't look as
pissed as excited and nervous. She wasn't sure, but was sure she
wanted to go for it. Someone gave her the courage. That someone
had to be Bunny, the only one I ever told about sending Joann out
to fuck her boss, then eating her out afterward to reward her so
she'd be more willing to go out and get me more yummy cum to eat
out of her pussy.

I only told that shit to Bunny because I was trying to get her to
put out for her boss and feed it to Bart. She did, but Bart
didn't appreciate that one damn bit. He was the exception that
proved the rule, but it got Bunny to fuck someone besides Bart.
She still was because fucking your employer was expected. A wife
has no right to tell a boss no, not if he is paying her well.
Bunny stopped telling her boss no, but began telling Bart no
until after he ate it. That got Bart eating fucked pussy. Bunny
is the most gullible woman I ever met. There was no excuse for
not fucking that dumb bunny.

Anyway, I digress. My whore wife wanted this shit out as badly as
Donna wanted her shit out. I have no doubt Donna left that
meeting determined to do exactly what she told them she'd do. If
Donna could do that, Joann could certainly slap me on the back of
the head and get me to admit what she was, and be that openly and
shamelessly, maybe do that in the street. We had three horny
motherfuckers who would do her in the street. If she didn't deny
the things Bunny told her, she had to be ready for that reality.

The trouble is, I am one sick puppy with a vivid imagination. I
wasn't sure I could live with the reality I told Bunny concerning
my home and family life. Nobody lives that way. Boys don't flip
coins to see which hole on their mother they get to fuck this
time. They don't sell her pussy to their friends. They don't do
all of her masturbating for her, or decide when she needs
masturbating, and with what. Mothers don't get angry when sons
waste semen, and sons don't get to decide when a father can have
sex with his wife, or what type he can have. They certainly can't
restrict him to oral sex and only while she is fucking. That is
absurd, but that absurd version of our reality had my wife all
excited.

I thought only a dumb bunny like Bunny could get herself all
worked up over an absurd reality like that, or long for the day
when her employer's semen would splash off of her husband's
tongue on its way to soiling her vagina. She had a crystal-clear
image of Bart's reaching tongue deep in her vagina, curling over
the end of Mr. Harvey's dick so he could feel the squirts,
because husbands love to feel a man cumming in his wife, because
I said there was nothing like the feel of a squirting cock inside
a cunt. I suppose there is nothing like that feeling, but I
wouldn't know. I was only guessing.

I never dreamed that shit would come back to bite me in the ass,
but I could see the look on Joann's face and knew it was coming
when she said, "Yes, there is nothing quite like the sensation of
some other guy's cock squirting cum in your wife's cunt, is
there, or the sweet taste of adultery, or incest, the bitter
harvest. You know your sons by taste, don't you. Yes, you can
lick my runny legs and know who has been naughty, who has earned
a father's praise, who wins a blowjob."

"Joann, look..."

"No, you look. You said it; I confirmed it; they believed it.
What is that you say? Don't talk the talk if you can't walk the
walk. You made a mighty big impression by talking the talk.
You'll make a bigger depression if they find out you are all
talk. Bunny will be so terribly disappointed. She believed in
you, trusted in you, looked up to you. I dare say she would never
speak to you again, and I know you have put so much work into
that girl - no semen, but lots of work. All that work is just
about to pay off, too. You are her sexual mentor. She hangs on
your every word and opinion, but maybe you have gone as far as
you can go with this? Seems a shame when what you actually do
isn't far from the walk, not far at all. All we're missing is the
dick."

"Joann, you don't understand..."

"I think I do. I think the hard part for a man is eating a wife's
fucked pussy, and you've got that very well licked, don't you,
Cliff? I would think sucking a man's cock or a son's dick would
be a walk in the park for a man like you. What was that you told
Bunny? It takes a man to suck a dick, but a real man sucks cock
and swallows cum? You know something, Cliff, they all agreed with
you. I agreed with you, and assured them that you are all man, a
real man, that your super-human strength, incredible stamina,
size, and staying power result from your passion for devouring
the essence of lesser males. They are envious, and I am so proud.
Now, what do I not understand?"

This sucked. Things were looking so up. How could they get so
screwed up, and how does a guy unscrew something like this and
still get the pussy he's after? Why are the best so fucking
difficult? Why must there be consequences? Why me?

She had me by the short hairs and knew it, sensed victory,
smelled success, felt her oats, felt her pussy, and said, "Don't
make us out to be liars. Sit your sons down and tell them like it
is. Tell them what I am, what I do, what you do, and all about
your motherfucker incentive program. I'll be waiting in the
bedroom after a shower. If your talk went well, I should be the
first to know."

With that, she sauntered off like she owned the place. That was
the toughest thing I ever did - bitter harvest indeed. Those
little fuck wads. You would think they'd cut a dad some slack.
Shit! Little bastards. Sons like them give motherfuckers a bad
name.

And my wife! Oh, what a nasty whore she turned out to be. Why
couldn't she fuck dogs like other wives do? No, I gotta get a
whore who loves to fuck unauthorized dicks, hates to fuck an
authorized dick, and thinks a pussy is a device to lure sperm
from balls to feed a growing hubby. I know where she got that
idea. Some dumb Bunny told her.

Fucking Bunny. I should have raped her young ass as soon as I
could see that she owed me and would take a raping. No, I gotta
play Mr. Nice-guy and try to talk her into wanting it, not just
Bunny but Bart so that servicing the wife is just one more favor:
Thanks buddy, I owe you.

Hey, don't mention it, Pal. What are buddies for? Gotta keep the
little lady smiling, and nothing puts a smile on your little lady
like knowing your tongue is up my ass while I'm fucking her. Oh
yeah, that feels good. Lick the nuts.

A guy can dream, can't he?

I pissed away an entire afternoon being degraded and humiliated,
almost forgot my hot date, was late, but she wasn't ready. I had
to wait on a dog to finish fucking her, but I got to see that
with Bud and the kids. Turns out I was right. She got off on
mating in front of people, and liked to do it totally nude: I'll
just be a minute. Make yourself at home. There's beer in the
fridge.

Afterward, we had to wait on the bitch to shower and get dressed.
Typical woman, hurry up and wait. I can't say I envied Bud. I
envied Harold. That guy had it made - a wife like Sharon and no
sons, all daughters, and sexy things, too. You can fuck
daughters. They have pussy. Sharon would have your nuts, but you
could. Sharon has to sleep sometime. What I envied most about
Harold was that he got to sleep with the queen, for Sharon was
THE Queen bee of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. Of that, there was
never any question. Sharon stands in a class all her own, a total
class act, a one-man woman. That was all I ever really wanted,
for the sad truth was, deep down, I am a one-woman man.

After getting to know everyone else, Sharon seemed so straight. I
once thought she was pretty kinky for raising those girls the way
she did. Adults had best not mess with them, but any kid could,
and adults were welcome to see them naked, welcome to watch them
get fucked. That used to strike me as pretty kinky, but that
seemed awfully tame and awfully straight, now. Every woman, every
girl, every cunt in the neighborhood was now a fucking whore or a
bitch, or both, but not Sharon.

A month later, she was still the same Sharon, still faithful to
her mate. Harold gave her the message. She laughed it off. I was
real cute. Every time I tried to rape her like she wanted, she
blocked me, tripped me, or stunned me with a heel of her hand to
the forehead. I got kneed in the balls, poked in the eye, my
pubic hair yanked, my instep heel-stomped. Raping her was
dangerous and always ended up being another level of humiliation.
After a failed attempt, she never failed to point out that eating
sperm makes a man weak and effeminate. She thought I should cut
back on my sperm consumption, but how. Everyone thought I was
nuts about the stuff and needed the stuff. The women were getting
fucked and bringing it to me. It was like having eight wives who
wanted to feed me but not fuck me.

This was not my dream. Something was terribly wrong in Mr.
Roger's neighborhood. For one, I was losing chest hair and
growing breasts - real breasts - rather nice breasts, but
breasts. I didn't count on that happening. I knew I had a problem
when the guys started fucking my tits and a bigger problem when
they began fucking my ass. I developed a really cute ass, too.
Bunny was jealous of my ass. Donna was jealous of my tits. Hers
were bigger, but I had better nipples.

Things went from bad to worse. My dick kept getting smaller and
smaller. Not only that, the damn thing wouldn't get hard. The
fucker was worthless and an embarrassment when Rodney assaulted.
He used to expose me to get a rise out of everyone. He now did it
for laughs. Bunny finally decides it is time we screw, and I
can't get it up. This time, she tossed me out and kept my shorts
- bra and panties, too.

I had to run all the way home like a naked girl. Dogs chased me.
I stopped to throw a rock and threw like a girl. Naturally, I
missed. I turned, tripped, stumbled, farted, fell, and got
mutt-raped in the street, which pissed Donna off because I was
working her side of the street. I wasn't working anything. I was
trying to crawl while hiding my tits. I crawled right into the
legs of my three sons who stood with bags over their heads, so
ashamed they took out their dicks and pissed on me until a shot
up in bed screaming in a sweat.

Joann flipped on the beside light and said, "Harold, what's
wrong?"

My tits were gone. I looked under the covers - I HAD A DICK - not
a big dick, but A DICK! I had chest hair, lots of it. Joann grew
more concerned, sat up, and said, "Harold, what the hell are you
doing? It's three in the morning."

"It was a dream. I was dreaming. Joann, it was just a dream, a
silly dream."

"Sounded like a nightmare. I think you woke the girls."

"Girls?"

"Yes, girls. We do have three daughters, you know, all girls.
Harold, are you sure you are fully awake? You called me Joann.
Who the hell is Joann?"

"Joann is...is my...she's....Sharon, my name is Harold, Harold
Stone."

"How do you do, Mr. Stone. I'm Mrs. Stone, your wife, you numb
skull. Now, go to sleep. We'll talk about this Joann slut in the
morning."

She flipped off the light. I slowly laid my head down. What a
freaky dream, or was it. Was I Mr. Stone dreaming I was Mr.
Rogers, or Mr. Rogers dreaming I was Mr. Stone? Whatever, I was
in bed with Sharon and we were naked. She was convinced that I
was her husband, and she will fuck her husband. I placed my hand
on her bare ass. She said, "Go to sleep, go in the bathroom, or
go to Joann, but there is nothing in this bed going to make you
happy tonight. Don't you even think about tucking those girls.
They can tuck themselves, or the Rogers boys can tuck them, but
you don't tuck my girls. eIf you ever tuck a slut, I'll place
your balls in a jar and tuck them away on a shelf while I bear
Cliff all the bastards he wants. Go to sleep."

That was Sharon, and I was Harold. We are the Stones, and all was
right in Mr. Roger's neighborhood. Jenny, that was her name,
Jenny, not Joann. Jenny works for Jabba the Hut. Where did I get
Joann?

                              The End

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CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in
unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid,
even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving
large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion,
bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are
offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation.
Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are
because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex
with minors should be left to other minors. PP  

     

 

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