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Subject: {ASSM} "The Entertainment" (M+/F) Reposted to corrrect a rather embaressing spelling error.
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<1st attachment, "TheEntertainment.txt" begin>
If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.
If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area,
don't read it.
If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this
story, don't read it.
Find my stories here-
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/
Copyright (C) 2002 Norm DePloom. ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit
without the written permission of the author. This
story may be freely distributed with this notice
attached. The author may be contacted at 'MyStores at
normdeploom dot com'
All the characters and events in this story are
fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is
entirely coincidental.
The Entertainment
By
Norm DePloom
I
magine, if you will, a 'Knott's Berry Farm' built at
the wrong time, in the wrong place, by the wrong
people; that is Forty-Niner Village. Located on what
used to be the main north-south highway running the
length of the state, midway between two mid-sized
central California cities, Forty-Niner Village, like
Gaul, was divided into three parts. The largest part
was the old west Ghost Town. The Ghost Town was kept
in good repair and was perpetually being prepared to
be reopened for another attempt to make it successful.
In front of the Ghost Town, just off the frontage
road, stood the Chicken Restaurant, which made good
money selling greasy fried chicken to the local
gentry. Across the parking lot also facing the
frontage road, with a facade intended to resemble a
riverboat, resided the Paddle Wheeler Dinner Theater,
where guests could enjoy their greasy chicken while
watching vaudeville acts and melodramas. John, though
he was currently working as a sporting goods salesman
at the local branch of a national department store,
had done theatrical sound and lighting work for the
theater and Greg, soon to be his best man, worked
almost full time as an electrician for Forty-Niner
Village. So it seemed only natural when, in September
1978, John announced his plans to marry Carmen, the
new sales lady in major appliances, for the Ghost Town
to become the site of his bachelor party.
On the evening before John and Carmen were to tie
the knot before a judge in the local county court
house, John, Greg and their friends gathered to
celebrate. Tim, who had only recently moved back to
town after living in San Francisco for several years
where he had tried to break into the porn business,
brought his sixteen-millimeter projector and several
porno movies. (For our younger readers this was in
the days before VCR's were ubiquitous and long before
samples of every possible sexual proclivity became
only a mouse click away.) James, a man whose greatest
accomplishment, up to that time, had been spending a
$500,000 insurance settlement in less than a week
then, within another week, totaling both of the cars
and the motorcycle the money had purchased, none of
which had he seen fit to insure. James was the last
scion of James Murphy Sr. who owned Murphy's College,
an institute famous for the quality of its court
reporter certification program. James brought his
siphon (you know, one of those metal bottles used to
make home made seltzer water) and several boxes of
little metal tanks, each tank filled with nitrous
oxide, better known as 'laughing gas'. Neil, whose
father and uncle had inherited Forty-Niner Village
from their father, brought the grass along with
papers, pipes and a two-foot long bong. Greg supplied
the ice chest overflowing with Heineken and two large
bottles of Kentucky's finest sipping whiskey. It had
not occurred to any of them to bring food, but then
eating was not the point of the evening. The marry
makers gathered on the wood sidewalk and sat on the
wood stairs leading up to the door of the Ghost Town
'bank'.
"Did you hire a stripper?" It wasn't until
everyone had opened there first beers, and the bong,
whisky and nitrous oxide siphon had each made at least
one trip around the group that someone thought to ask.
"No," Greg answered, "I got too busy and didn't
get it done." Since Greg had never in his life owned
a watch, was always late for appointments, and was
infamous for throwing things together at the last
second (amply demonstrated by the price tag still
affixed to the side of the Styrofoam ice chest), no
one was surprised to hear that he had failed in this
most basic of the best man's responsibilities.
"How can we have a proper bachelor party without
a stripper?" James asked as he recharged the siphon
from his supply of pressurized containers. It was
still too light to fire up the projector and watch the
pornos, so the group was concentrating on ingesting
drugs.
"Wait here." Greg said (as if any of them had
any intention of moving) as he stood up and headed up
the street in the direction of the restaurant.
"I've got something special to help us celebrate
your upcoming nuptials." Neil announced as he
produced and began to unwrap a small foil package.
"Some of Oregon's best shrooms." He announced as he
began to pass out the smaller foil packages that had
been contained in the larger package.
"Alright." (or 'All right' as some would have it)
John said as he unwrapped one of the packages and
began to chew slowly on the contents. Being a health
conscious environmentalist John much preferred a
mushroom grown on a nice organic Oregon cow pie to
acid produced in god only knows what clandestine
laboratory. "Better living through chemicals."
"Right." The group affirmed, then continued its
single-minded pursuit of altered consciousness with
such fanatical devotion that, soon, none of them were
quite sure what had happened to Greg.
"Cynthia said she might be willing to do a strip
for us when she finished her shift." John turned at
the sound of Greg's voice. Although he could not
remember him returning John discovered Greg sitting
next to him.
"Great." John replied, then putting the bong to
his mouth he held the lighter over the bowl and sucked
while he watched the thick smoke bubbling up through
the water. When the plastic column was filled with
swirling smoke John removed his thumb from the hole
and pulled it deeply into his lungs. "Good shit."
Was all he could manage to say as his brain swirled
briefly in imitation of the smoke in the bong. After
his brain settled back down John passed the bong to
Neil and accepted the bottle of whisky from James.
"When's that going to be?" James asked.
"From what I've heard," Neil commented as
reloaded the bong, "once she gets a drink or two
inside her she'll do a whole lot more than just strip
for us."
"When is what going to be?" Greg asked.
"Don't you think it's dark enough to start the
first movie?" Tim asked as he glanced up at the
darkening sky, all three of them talking together.
"Abso-fucking-lutely" John replied.
"When in Cynthia getting off?" James asked
attempting to clarify his question.
"Right before I do." John replied with a drug-
augmented laugh as Tim started the projector running.
"Look at the tits on that one." He finished as the
image of a naked woman bouncing up and down on the
cock of a reclining man appeared on the portable
screen that had been set up in the middle of the
street.
"She's a bitch in real life." Supplied Tim, who
was always eager to remind his friends that he knew
most of these women, and had actually fucked a few of
them.
"Tell us again why you're not in the movie," Greg
teased, "they didn't want to put the macro lens on the
camera so it would show up on the screen?"
"Go fuck yourself."
"I may have to," Greg continued thoughtfully,
"Laura is out of town this week."
The idea that Greg, who usually had women lining
up to share his bed, would resort to taking care of
himself just because his girlfriend de jour was out of
town struck them all as the extremely funny. John had
become close friends with several of the women who had
shared, if not his bed, at least Greg's body. In some
cases close enough for them to share their
observations with him. They unanimously agreed that,
while Greg's performance was mechanically adequate,
the problem was that's all it was; a mechanical
performance totally devoid of any emotional content.
Their mutual friend Debby Watson once revealed to John
that, in her opinion Greg needed to find himself a
rich old lady who was looking for a boy toy.
This situation allowed John the unique
opportunity to hear descriptions of the same sex act
from both a male and a female point of view. One
Saturday morning, about five years previous, while
Greg and John ate breakfast at Ye Olde Hoosier Inne
prior to doing some work on the Paddle Wheeler Dinner
Theater sound system, Greg told John about his night
with Susan.
"God she was hot," Greg expounded between bites,
"I don't think I've ever been with a girl who wanted
me that much." John only half listened to Greg's
rendition of his previous nights sexual exploits.
John and Shirley, his wife at that time, had been
close friends of Susan's for a number of years. She
had been one of the small number of people who had
keys to their apartment and were welcome to come and
go as they pleased. As they ate Greg painted a
picture of a sexually obsessed nymphomaniac who could
not get enough of him the night before. That evening
John found Susan and Shirley setting at the dinning
room table talking when he came home. John kissed
Shirley rather thoroughly on the mouth then gave Susan
a friendly peck on her forehead.
"Jamaica Blue Mountain?" John asked as poured
himself a cup of coffee and joined the two ladies at
the table.
"Picked it up today," Shirley replied.
"Greg said you spent the night with him." John
said to Susan, as he sat down across from Shirley.
"Yes I did," Susan replied, setting down her cup,
"what did he say?"
"He just talked about how horny you were."
"Actually," Susan explained as she got up and
poured more coffee into her cup, "I was exhausted. I
didn't even have enough energy to drive home." Susan
took a sip of her coffee before continuing, "I figured
if I wanted to stay at his place overnight it would
only be polite to let him fuck me," Susan took another
sip, "I figured I'd never get any rest if I didn't.
The only thing I was anxious for was to get it over
with so I could get to sleep."
John smiled as he remembered the differences
between Greg's version and Susan's versions of that
night. Later discussions with Greg proved him to be
totally convinced of his version of the night.
Beer, whiskey, pot, mushrooms and nitrous oxide
were consumed while the men watched the pornos and
waited to find out if Cynthia would agree to provide
live entertainment for the party. At five till nine
Greg decided to make his way back to the restaurant,
hopefully to escort Cynthia into the Ghost Town.
"Hey," John yelled after him when he was a ways
down the street, "if she's wavering invite her back
for a beer and some grass. Let her know she's welcome
even if she doesn't want to strip." Greg waved in
acknowledgement then turned and continued toward the
back door of the restaurant. One terrific blowjob on
the screen later Greg returned with Cynthia.
"Oh my god." Cynthia said as her hand came up to
cover her mouth, her eyes locked on the screen as the
actress, on her hands and knees, was analy penetrated
by a muscular young man with a larger than normal
erect cock. John climbed to his feet and offered her
the half empty second bottle of whiskey. Cynthia took
the bottle from John and downed two swallows without
looking away from the action on the screen. After a
hit on the bong and with a beer in her hand, Cynthia
sat in front of John on the next lowest step. John
spread his legs and let her lean back against him.
She finally looked away from the movie to stare
dubiously at the siphon when James offered it to her
after attaching another mini-tank.
"Nitrous oxide." He slurred, his eyes barely
able to focus on Cynthia.
"You know," John took over speaking a bit more
coherently, "laughing gas. Like this," he explained
as he put the siphon's spout in his mouth and pulled
the lever, "hold it in as long as you can," he croaked
while he held his breath after sucking the gas deep
into his lungs. "Your head will spin, briefly," John
continued after exhaling, "then you'll get a really
great high that will only last for a few minutes, sort
of like the big hill on the roller coaster." Cynthia
gave John a doubtful look then, after placing her can
of beer on the step, took the siphon from him and
followed his example. Cynthia's body seemed to melt
against John as the siphon fell from her relaxing hand
and landed with a loud thunk on the weathered wood.
John began to massage Cynthia's shoulders as her head
slowly rocked from side to side against his chest.
"Mmmm, that feels so good."
"Cynthia's been working hard all evening," John
said in a soft soothing voice, "I think you should
give her a foot massage." He finished speaking to
Greg. Greg, more than happy to comply with John's
suggestion, moved down to street level and, setting
cross-legged facing Cynthia and John, removed her left
shoe and massaged her foot through her nylons.
"You sure know how to take advantage of a tired
woman." Cynthia said tilting her head up so she could
look at John. John resisted the urge to make a
comment about Greg's experience in that area.
"Don't worry," John said, looking at her upside
down face, "we won't ask you to do anything you don't
want to do."
"It's what I'm beginning to want to do that
concerns me," Cynthia responded still looking up at
John, "not what you might ask me to do." The massages
continued for several minutes with the moans and
groans of the porno film and Cynthia's soft sighs of
pleasure intermingling.
"Hang on a second." Cynthia said as she
struggled to her feet then reached down and grabbed
John's knee for support as her body rocked back and
forth a couple of times like a slow pendulum. Once
stabilized Cynthia reached under her skirt with both
hands and worked her panty hose off her hips and down
her thighs. With her hose around her knees Cynthia
sat back down and, reclining once more against John,
extended her legs toward Greg. Tim moved down to sit
next to Greg and they worked together to finish
removing Cynthia's panty hose before each took a foot
in hand for continued massage. The banter died away,
leaving only the ohhs and ahhs of the two actresses on
the screen as they admired the large hard cock of the
actor while taking turns noisily slurping it into
their mouths. The ones not massaging Cynthia's
shoulders, or one of her feet continually supplied her
with additional grass, nitrous oxide and alcohol.
"OK, you win," Cynthia said several minutes later
as she pulled her feet out of Greg and Tim's grasps
and stood up, "put on some music." The movie continued
but the 'dialogue' was quickly covered by the growing
intensity of Revel's Bolero coming from the portable
tape player. Cynthia, standing in front of the
portable screen, and with a mouth moving up and down
the shaft of a large cock being projected on her white
blouse, began slow sensual movements in time with the
soft music. Her hands moved from her sides, up across
her stomach to briefly cup her breasts, then continue
up her throat, over her face then through her hair.
Cynthia's hips continued to gyrate slowly with the
growing beat of the music while she brought her hands
back down the sides of her face, back down her neck
and down her chest, then slowly around the sides of
her breasts to return to her stomach. With what was
to her audience agonizing slowness, Cynthia unbuttoned
the bottom button on her blouse, then moved her hands
slowly up to the second one. Instead of immediately
unbuttoning it Cynthia teased them by pulling her
blouse open and up just enough for them to get a
glimpse of her naked belly then, letting her blouse
close again, slowly turned to face the screen.
Bending forward slightly and still moving in time with
the music, Cynthia looked back over her shoulder,
watching the five men, as she ran her hands slowly
over her butt then down her thighs until she reached
the bottom of her skirt. Cynthia slowly raised her
skirt, exposing the backs of her thighs then stopped
just before her panties came into view and let the
skirt fall back into place. As Cynthia slowly turned
to face her small audience once again it was becoming
obvious to them all that she was really enjoying her
roll as the seductress.
With much teasing and flirting the buttons of her
blouse were slowly undone and the point was reached
where the blouse was slipped slowly down her arms and
tossed aside. Cynthia's erect nipples could be seen
bulging under the almost sheer material of her
'natural look' bra. As the excitement level of
everyone involved grew the clothes began to come off
more quickly. With considerably less teasing
Cynthia's short black skirt came down her legs and
joined her blouse lying on the street. Once it was
gone Cynthia cupped her breasts and teased the men by
teasing her nipples through the material, then
unhooked the clasp in the front and slowly moved the
bra off her breasts then tossed it into the pile.
With the porno movie still being projected on her
skin, Cynthia lifted one of her breasts then the
other, bringing her nipples to her mouth where she
licked, sucked and nibbled on them for her own and the
watchers' pleasure. Holding one breast in each hand,
looking like she was about to present them as a gift
or as trophies for the winning of some contest,
Cynthia walked slowly forward, undulating her hips in
time with the music, which was approaching the peak of
its intensity, and stood in front of John, who was
still setting on the step.
"Would you like to remove my panties?" She asked
with exaggerated mock innocents. Leaning forward John
took her right nipple in his mouth as he worked her
white cotton panties off her hips and down her leg.
Without relinquishing his mouths grip on Cynthia's
nipple, John helped her step out of her underwear
then, starting at her knees, ran his hands up the
backs of her legs until he cupped and kneaded her
fanny cheeks with both hands. Leaving his left hand to
fondle Cynthia's right butt, John moved his right hand
around then traced his fingertips through her kinky
pubic hair before pushing between her legs. John felt
a small spasm shake Cynthia's body as his finger moved
across her clitoris on its way to the moist folds of
her eagerly waiting pussy. Still holding her right
breast to make it easy for John to keep his lips
locked on her nipple, Cynthia released her left breast
and moved her left hand behind John's head. When the
invading finger sank into her welcoming cunt, and
John's thumb pressed down gently on her clitoris,
while his teeth gently teased her nipple, Cynthia's
deep throated guttural moan could be heard over the
crescendo of the Bolero's final notes. Her second and
much louder moan seemed to echo through the eerie
silence that followed. The other four men watched as
Cynthia, hugging John's head to her breast, jerked her
hips backward and forward fucking herself on John's
hand while she called out to the almighty to make sure
he was cognizant of her orgasm.
"Get your fucking pants off," Cynthia leaned over
whispered in John's ear, "I want to fucking fuck you,
fucker." With his face still held tightly to
Cynthia's bosom, and his right hand clamped between
her thighs, John fumbled blindly with his left hand to
get his pants open and his cock into position. Once
he was sufficiently freed of encumbrances Cynthia
pulled his hand from her crotch, straddled his legs
and, reaching around behind her back, held him by the
base of his cock while she lowered herself onto his
lap. Tim, Greg, James and Neil, the porno flickering
on the screen forgotten, watched the live action
entertainment as John's hard cock slowly disappeared
into Cynthia's glistening flesh.
"I know I'm going to hate myself in the morning,"
Cynthia said looking back over her shoulder as she
slowly raised and lowered herself on top of John, "but
I intend to fuck each and every one of you," Cynthia
paused briefly before continuing, "several times."
The expressions on their faces could only be described
as 'big silly grins'.
<1st attachment end>
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