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Message-ID: <52084asstr$1127715005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 25 Sep 2005 19:01:42 -0500
From: John Wizard <johnwizard13@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Sense of Humor - Wizard - (Mg,cons,humor)
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Date: Mon, 26 Sep 2005 02:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

SENSE OF HUMOR

 

Wizard

 

[Usual warnings - If you're underaged, live in a community that
doesn't like erotic literature, have no sense of humor, or are easily
morally outraged, go read Winnie the Pooh. Otherwise, enjoy.]

[Special Thanks to Russell Hoisington who waded through a sea of
spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors to produce a readable version
of this story. If you haven't read his Wynter and Jimmy, do it right
after you finish this, you won't be disappointed.]

I coach a girls' soccer team. It started as community service. I got
pulled over after too many drinks and too few years. I was only
nineteen, and my state says you have to be twenty-one. But I had so
much fun that I'm still coaching three years later.

I started with an eight-year-olds rec program, and now I coach the
twelve-and-under town league and help out with the high school varsity.
The town league has teams from all over the western part of the state,
so some days we have to drive several hours to get to a game. Today was
that kind of day.

We were coming back from a tournament in Whidbey. Three other teams in
a round robin, so we played three games. The first two were easy wins
for my girls, but the last one we just squeaked out. The girls were
feeling pretty good after going undefeated, and I popped for pizza at
the local Pizza Hut before we headed home. Most of the parents had
driven down to catch the game, so I only had three girls for the three
hour trip back: Monica, Lisa and Dawn.

Lisa really should have been in the next league. She was almost
thirteen, but her birthday made the league cutoff by one day. She was
tall and blonde. Hair cut short and cut-offs cut shorter. It didn't
take much imagination to see her as a young Kelly Bundy, except Kelly
would never have gotten sweaty on a soccer field. Unless it was after
the game with the lights turned off.

Monica was twelve and looked like the star athlete she was. Her copper
red hair was cut short like Lisa's. Dawn was eleven, and a young eleven
at that, but she held her own on the field. She idolized the older
girls, especially Lisa. She was short, even for her age. Mousy brown
hair, medium length, usually in a ponytail. Oh, and about three
million, two hundred and six freckles.

I finally got them off the video games and into the car about eight. I
wasn't surprised that we were the last ones to go. By the time I'd
gotten on the highway they were talking about boys. Specifically about
Lisa's boys. Lisa had about six boys that she kept on short leashes. On
any given day, one would be her boyfriend and the others merely
drooling followers. They rotated in no order that I could follow.

Mentally, I laughed at the six boys I'd never met. Being led around by
the nose like that. The younger generation has no pride.

Then I remembered Penny Wilson from my high school. There'd been a bit
of drool involved there, but that was different.

Having a boyfriend and five wannabes didn't slow Lisa down. She
usually rode to and from games with me, and more than once I'd
practically had to use a crowbar to pry her off some boy she'd just met
when it was time to go home.

Monica didn't have a boyfriend. I knew from their conversations that
she'd fooled around with a few boys at parties, but that was all. To
hear her talk, Dawn had fooled around too, but I had a feeling that it
was all talk to keep up with the girls. Dawn struck me as a little bit
innocent.

I never censored their conversations, so they didn't bother trying to
be quiet. I was close enough to their ages that I could be the 'cool'
coach.

Toward the end of the ride, it had degenerated into jokes. Dirty
jokes. And Lisa and Monica knew some good ones. I even told a few
myself, knowing the three girls wouldn't tell anyone.

I dropped off Lisa first, then Monica. They both lived on the south
end of town about a block apart. Dawn lived on the far side of town,
and I had an apartment near the middle.

The girls had all been riding in the backseat, but after I dropped off
Monica, Dawn moved up front. Dawn was very quiet as we drove toward her
house. I usually dropped her last when she rode because she was the
only one at this end of town, and usually after the other girls were
gone she was a chatterbox.

Finally, after almost seven minutes of silence, "Coach?" she said
timidly. Dawn wasn't usually timid.

"Yes, Pebbles?" I called her Pebbles when we were alone because the
first time she'd come to practice, she'd had her ponytail on top like
Pebbles Flintstone.

"Can I ask you something and you won't tell anybody?" she asked
looking up at my face. I glanced down at those big brown eyes.

"You know you can," I told her.

"I mean anybody. Especially the other girls."

"Whatever you ask me or say between us, stays between us," I assured
her.

She thought about it as we drove several more blocks, then finally
decided that she could trust me. "I didn't get some of the jokes," she
admitted.

I misunderstood and told her, "That's okay. I didn't like all of them
myself. Everybody has a different sense of humor. You don't have to
laugh just because Lisa thinks it's funny."

"NO! I mean I didn't get them. I didn't know what they were about."

I thought back over the jokes that Monica, Lisa and I had told. Most
of them were pretty basic. Either about sex or, in Monica's case,
bodily functions. "What didn't you get?" I asked, puzzled.

"Like the Helen Keller joke."

It took me several seconds to remember the joke she was asking about.
"You mean, why does Helen Keller wear hot pants?"

"So people can read her lips," Dawn finished, and from the corner of
my eye I could see her shrug.

It made sense to me, I didn't see what the problem was. "You know what
hot pants are, don't you?"

"Duh! Really really tight shorts, like the kind that Lisa wore to
practice on Thursday."

Actually, I thought, those were several categories above hot pants.
Inferno pants maybe.

"Well, when girls wear hot pants, everyone can see their bodies really
clearly."

"Yeah?"

Suddenly I saw the problem. "Spread your legs wider." She looked
confused but opened up her knees. "What do you call that?" I asked,
taking one hand off the wheel and pointing at her crotch of her shorts,
my finger tip only an inch away.

She turned the most beautiful shade of red. "My crotch," she stammered.

I smiled at her. "What else?"

Her color deepened and she looked down at her toes. "My cunny," she
said almost in a whisper.

Just then I hit a bump in the road and my finger brushed against the
crotch of her shorts. I pulled away quickly, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Well some people talk about your cunny having lips." I waited to see
if she got it.

"Lips?"

"You know, lips," I said and, taking a big chance, reached down to
where I knew her pussy was and traced the shape of her lips in the
fabric. She didn't pull away or look shocked, so I relaxed.

"Those aren't lips," she stated.

"Sure they are. Those are the lips of your pussy, or your cunt, or
your cunny. Whatever you call it. In fact, you have two sets of lips
down there, your large lips and your small lips." I thought to myself
that I was sounding a lot like a sex education teacher. "Don't they
have sex ed at your school?"

"Sure, we had it last year. Mostly they talked about how good it was
not to have sex until you were married. And how horrible AIDS was, and
how we'd get pregnant and ruin our lives."

"Sounds like a lot of fun," I said dryly.

Dawn started laughing. It was so sudden that I almost drove the car
off the road.

"I get it, read her lips," she muttered between fits of laughter.
Gradually the laughter petered off into giggles. "What about the guy
and the shower?"

I didn't remember which joke she was talking about. "What?"

"You know, with the nearsighted girls."

"Okay, what didn't you get?

"The ending."

"Okay, a guy named Jimmy lives in a big dorm on campus, and he's going
to take a shower. The dorm is co-ed, but his floor has only guys, so he
comes out of his room and starts walking to the shower room wearing
nothing and carrying his towel and a brand new bar of soap."

"Yeah..." she agreed. "And suddenly, the elevator door opens and three
girls walk onto the floor. They're dressed in robes and look like
they're going to the shower themselves. He recognizes them and knows
they're all extremely nearsighted and he sees that they're not wearing
their glasses. He knows that the shower on their floor is broken and
figures they were going to one of the other girls' floors but pushed
the wrong button. He doesn't want to embarrass them so he freezes like
a statue, with his arms in the air holding his towel and soap."

"Very good," I agreed.

"I'm not stupid," she said in a patronizing tone. "There's just stuff
I don't know."

"You know, realizing that you don't know everything and asking
questions shows you're pretty smart."

From the corner of my eye I could see the young girl preen and push
out her nonexistent chest.

I grinned and continued. "The girls walk toward him and see him in
their nearsighted way. 'Look', one says, 'a new vending machine.' She
reaches into the pocket of her robe and pulls out a quarter and pushes
it into Jimmy's mouth. Then she grabs his cock and pushes in on it,
then pulls it out. 'Look! I got a towel,' she tells the other two as
she reaches up and grabs Jimmy's towel."

Dawn continued, "The second stepped in front of Jimmy, put a quarter
in his mouth, grabbed his cock..." Dawn giggled and blushed as she said
the word, "...pushed in and then pulled out. 'I got soap,' she
announced as she took it from his other hand. The third girl stepped up
and put a quarter in Jimmy's mouth. She reached down and grabbed his
cock..." Dawn stuttered again, "...and pushed in and pulled out, and
nothing happened. She tried again, in and out, still nothing. She
started jerking her hand faster and faster, saying 'What a gyp." then
suddenly 'I got hand cream!' Dawn looked up at me. "Where'd the hand
cream come from? He was carrying a towel and a bar of soap."

I felt my face turn a little red. "You know about boys and cocks?" I
asked.

"I know boys have them," she said, then admitted, "but I've only seen
them on babies."

"Have you heard of jerking off?"

"I've heard of it, but I don't know what it means," she said, her
voice dropping off. I knew she didn't like admitting ignorance.

"Jerking off is when a boy rubs his cock until he cums. When he cums,
he shoots a white cream that's called semen or cum. It would feel a
little like hand lotion. So the third girl was rubbing his cock back
and forth and Jimmy came-shot his load into her hand-and she thought it
was hand lotion," I finished.

"Oh," she said, looking disappointed. "That's not all that funny."

"Well, even good jokes lose something when you have to explain them,"
I admitted, because this was one of the jokes I had told.

"Why did you call my cunny a pussy?" she asked next.

"Well, a lot of people call it a pussy," I told her. "I guess because
boys like to pet the soft fur just like a cat." I reached over and
stroked the crotch of her shorts once, wondering if there was any fur
under the fabric. She giggled but didn't pull away.

"Do boys jerk off a lot?"

"Some do. I suppose it depends on the boy and what you mean by a lot.
I had a friend when I was growing up who jerked off about ten times a
day. Most guys jerk off once or twice a day, or maybe a few times a
week. There are some who don't jerk off at all. Depends on how horny
they get."

"Do you think that Tyler jerks off?"

"Lisa's Tyler?"

She nodded. Tyler was one of Lisa's toys, the one that Dawn thought
was cutest.

"When it's his turn to be boyfriend, probably not at all. But the rest
of the time, probably a lot."

"You don't think he gets horny when he's with Lisa?" she asked
breathlessly.

"No, I know he gets horny when he's with Lisa, but I imagine she takes
care of him in other ways. So, he only has to jerk off when she's being
somebody else's girlfriend."

I was trying to think about how to get the subject back on her pussy,
so that I could touch it again, when she asked, "What about the 'mull-
ig-nont' joke?" I almost laughed at her pronunciation but managed to
control myself.

"After his annual physical, the hot stud was waiting in the doctor's
office for the results," I repeated the earlier joke. "'Well,' said the
doctor, 'I've got good news and bad news.' 'The way I feel, I'll take
the good news first,' replied the stud. 'The good news is that your
penis will grow four inches in the next three months,' announced the
doctor." I glanced down at dawn to make sure she got the word penis. I
knew she knew cock, but I wasn't sure about penis.

When she didn't show a blank look, I continued. " 'Great!' the stud
shouted. 'What's the bad news?' 'It's malignant,' replied the doctor."

Now she had the blank look. "Malignant." I repeated slowly so she
could hear the pronunciation. "Do you know what that means?"

She shrugged.

"It had cancer, they were going to have to whack it off."

"Ewwwww," she groaned. "They cut off his dick?"

"Gone," I agreed.

"What so funny about that?" she asked. "It's just gross."

"Well you have to know guys," I explained. "Most guys want a bigger
cock. And to have the doctor tell you it's going to grow four inches
would be fantastic. Then he drops the other shoe and tells you they're
going to cut it off."

"Oh. Well, Lisa thought it was funny."

"Lisa's warped," I told her.

She nodded in agreement. "Could you stop here, please?" Here was an
empty stretch on the country road that led to her house. We were almost
there. I looked questioningly at her. "I have a couple more questions,
and we're almost home."

I nodded, pulled over to the side, and put the car in park.

"What about the tattoo joke?" she asked.

I didn't remember it. "What tattoo joke?" I asked.

"A woman goes into a tattoo parlor and asks the artist to give her a
Thanksgiving turkey on her left inner thigh and a Christmas goose on
her right inner thigh. He nods and starts to work." Dawn looked up at
me and I shrugged. I hadn't heard anybody tell this one. "After a
while, he gets curious and asks her why she wants a turkey and a goose
on her inner thighs," Dawn continued. "The woman answered, 'My husband
is always complaining there's nothing to eat between Thanksgiving and
Christmas.'"

I chuckled and Dawn looked at me searchingly. I wasn't sure if I
believed that she didn't get this one, but I was very willing to
explain. "Well you see," I reached down and spread her legs wide apart,
"she had the tattoo guy draw a turkey here." I drew an imaginary turkey
on her thigh less than an inch from her cotton-covered pussy. "And a
goose here." I drew a goose on the other thigh. "And when her husband
complained there was nothing good to eat between Thanksgiving turkey
and Christmas goose," I reached up and squeezed her pussy, "she'd show
him something good to eat." I left my hand there as I looked in her
face for understanding.

"She wanted him to be a cannibal?"

Now I knew she was faking, but I went along with it. "Haven't you ever
heard of eating pussy?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"When a guy or a girl licks a girl's pussy, it's called eating pussy."

"Oh." she said. Then: "A girl?"

"Yes, girls lick other girls all the time. I think Monica and Lisa
have tried it."

"They have?"

"I don't know for sure, but from some of the things they've said, I
think so."

"Wow!"

I moved my hand to her thigh like a good boy.

"What about the recreation area and the Twinkie?" she asked.

I was really lost. A joke about a recreation area and a Twinkie? Then
I realized that she was asking about two different jokes. I'd told the
recreation joke, and Lisa had told the Twinkie one. I also knew that
she'd understood both.

"One day a there was a company picnic at a national forest. Fourteen-
year-old Sally went with her family and was having a very good time,
playing games and eating barbeque. After she'd finished eating, Sally
went off exploring. Sally was climbing up a hill and slipped and fell
and rolled all the way down.

"Her father heard her scream and came running. He picked her up and
carried her to the ranger station, where there was a doctor. Sally was
in a lot of pain. The doctor got her pants off and found several large
splinters sticking out of Sally's pussy."

Dawn giggled.

"Her father yelled, 'Do something! Get those out, she's hurt!' but the
doctor just shook his head. 'Sorry, we have to wait for permission.'
'Permission?' Sally's father asked, amazed.

"'Yes,' the doctor replied. 'You always have to get permission to
remove old growth timber from a recreational area.'"

Dawn looked confused. Or at least she was faking a confused look.
"This," I said, reaching over and grabbing her crotch again, "Is a
recreational area." I gave her a squeeze and Dawn giggled.

"That reminds me," I said, not moving my hand. "Do you know why girls
don't have hair on their chests?" Dawn shook her head. "You don't see
grass on a playground, do you?" Dawn laughed.

"How about your playground?" I reached my other hand across my body
and laid it on her chest. "Any grass?" I asked as I rubbed her. She
giggled again. It was an awkward position, and there wasn't much to
feel. Through her shirt I couldn't tell if she had nipples or a pair of
mosquito bites.

"What about the Twinkie?" she reminded me after a few seconds. I let
my hand drop away from her chest but kept the other quietly in her lap.

"A little girl went with her father to the barber shop. The barber got
him in the chair and started cutting his hair. The little girl was
standing next to the chair eating a snack cake. The barber chuckled and
said, "You're going to get hair on your Twinkie." The little girl
nodded and replied with a big smile, "I'm gonna get boobth too."

Dawn was trying to look blank, but the effect was ruined by the grin
she had. "He was telling her that she was standing too close and some
of her dad's hair was going to fall on her food, but she thought he was
talking about this," I squeezed her pussy mound, "Twinkie."

Dawn giggled again.

"Tell me, little girl. Is there any hair on your Twinkie?"

Even in the pale light of the moon, I could see her face color.

"Better check," I suggested and pulled my hand off her crotch, grabbed
the top of her shorts and pulled them out away from her body. Dawn
squealed, but didn't pull away. I looked down her shorts and saw...
nothing. And I didn't want to turn the light on, I was afraid I'd spook
her. So I winged it.

"Hmm. Well someday you'll grow boobth too."

Dawn giggled again and twisted around pulling her shorts out of my hand.

"You know what explaining these jokes to you reminds me of?"

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"When I was a kid, not much older than you, me and some of my friends
would act out jokes."

"Act them out?"

"Yeah, just for fun," I explained. "Now some jokes you can't do, like
the Helen Keller one. But some jokes are perfect, like the dormitory
one."

"And I'll bet you volunteered to stand there like a statue while three
girls jerked you off."

"Me and every other guy in the group," I lied. While it sounded like a
great idea, I hadn't thought of it until just now.

"Sounds kind of fun. Can we try one?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Sure, which one?

"I don't know," she answered, like I'd expected.

"How about my favorite joke?"

"Sure, which one was that?" she asked.

"I didn't tell it tonight, so you probably haven't heard it. Ready?"

She nodded.

"Once upon a time, " I began, "there was a family that lived way back
in the hills. Ma and Pa and Jeb, I'll be Jeb," I added. "Now, Jeb was a
very strong good looking boy, but not very bright."

"So far you don't have to act," Dawn said with a giggle.

"Quiet! Or I'll take you home right now." It was an empty threat and
she knew it. "One day, Pa sent Jeb to town with the wagon for some
supplies. Jeb went to town and was coming back when he saw Rita Mae
walking home. That's you," I said, giving her thigh a squeeze.

"Rita Mae lived on the next farm over and was a beautiful teenaged
sexpot." Dawn positively beamed at being called, in a round-about-way,
a beautiful sexpot. "Jeb stopped the wagon and asked Rita Mae if she
wanted a ride and she said 'Yes.'" I looked at Dawn and said in my best
hayseed farm boy voice, "How y'all, Rita Mae. Want a ride?"

"Yes, Jeb, I surely would," Dawn answered in just as corny an accent.

"So Jeb flipped the reins and on they went down the road."

"So far, it's not much of a joke," Dawn said dryly.

"You want to go home now?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Now Rita Mae was horny, powerful horny, and as they went down the
road, she started thinking about Jeb. A little ways down the road she
spotted a clearing in the trees and asked Jeb to pull over." I stopped
and waited.

After a minute, Dawn realized what I was waiting for and said in her
hillbilly voice, "Jeb, would you pull over there?"

"Sure nuff," I answered and flipped the imaginary reins. "Jeb pulled
over and Rita Mae unbuttoned her shirt, took one of Jeb's hands and put
it on her tit and rubbed it around."

Dawn turned red, but lifted her t-shirt and put my hand on her small
breast. There wasn't much there, but I could feel her small hard nipple
pressing into the palm of my hand as she rubbed herself.

"After a couple of minutes of this, she asked, 'Would you like to go
further?'"

Dawn seemed to have trouble talking. Apparently her throat had gone
dry, but she croaked out, "Would you like to go further?" not bothering
with a hillbilly accent.

"Reckon I would," I answered and took my hand away and shook the
imaginary reins. "Jeb pulled back onto the road and continued their
journey. A mile or so down the road, a frustrated Rita Mae spotted
another clearing and asked Jeb to pull over."

Dawn quickly said, "Jeb, would you pull over here please?" back in her
hillbilly character.

"Sure nuff," I answered and steered the imaginary horses off the road.
Rita Mae undid her cutoffs and pushed them down her legs-hill girls
didn't wear underwear-then she took Jeb's hand and put it on her pussy
and rubbed it around. After a couple of minutes of this, she asked,
'Would you like to go further?'"

Dawn turned an even deeper shade of red, but pushed her shorts and
underwear down her legs, exposing her pussy to my eyes. I'd been wrong,
she had just a few wisps of soft brown hair above her mound. As she
reached for my hand, I thought she was going to stop breathing, but she
took my hand and placed it on her pussy mound and started rubbing
herself with it. I was in heaven. It was almost five minutes later,
when she asked breathlessly, "Would you like to go further?"

"Sure nuff." I answered, took my hand away from her pussy and steered
the imaginary horses back to the dirt road. "By now, Rita Mae was
really frustrated, and she knew that there was only one more clearing
before they got back to her farm. So as they got to the clearing, she
asked Jeb to pull off."

Dawn needed no prompting. "Jeb, would you pull over one more time,
pretty please." I could just see her in a pair of cut-off jeans with a
rope belt. And an old man's shirt tied just below overflowing breasts.

"Rita knew it was now or never, so she reached over and unfastened
Jeb's pants, then worked his huge cock out. She stroked it several
times, then asked, "Would you like me to put it in for you?"

Dawn swallowed and reached for my pants. I was wearing sweats, without
a fly, so I lifted my butt and Dawn slid them down my legs. My cock,
which had been hard ever since I explained Helen Keller, popped out.
Timidly, she reached over and her hand encircled it. I leaned back in
my seat and watched as she started to stroke it.

After a couple of minutes, I thought she'd forgotten about the joke,
but she looked up and said timidly, "Would you like me to put it in for
you?"

I think she thought she was going to lose her virginity right at that
moment, but I surprised her with the end of the joke. "Yep. Pa'd kill
me if I came home with it hanging out."

Her hand stopped moving on my rod but didn't pull away. She looked up
at me, "That's stupid."

"So was Jeb," I agreed. I reached over and started caressing her
pussy. Her hand kept stroking my cock, and damned if I wasn't out of
jokes.

"More!" she commanded and squeezed my joystick. I had a feeling this
girl was great at video games.

"Let's see," I mused as I tried to switch my mind into high gear. I
definitely needed a better indexing system up there. I wanted a pussy
joke, something with a finger, or better yet, a tongue. I knew I'd
probably heard dozens, maybe hundreds, but I was coming up blank.

Then I remembered one that came close.

"Little Johnny and Little Suzy grew up..."

"Why are so many jokes about Little Johnny or Little Suzy?" Dawn
interrupted.

"Not a clue," I admitted. "Okay, Little Herman and Little Mildred grew
up..."

"I liked Johnny and Suzy better."

"I'm gonna spank," I threatened.

She just grinned at me and squeezed again.

"Little Joey and Little Lisa grew up..." I paused, waited, and
continued, "...into teenagers and fell in love."

"Awww."

I ignored her. "One day Joey called into one of those radio contests,
knew that Elvis Presley's middle name was Aron, and won a trip for two
to London. He decided that this was a sign from fate and the trip would
make a good honeymoon, so he asked Lisa to marry him and she said yes.
They were married and flew to London and settled into their hotel."

"Their first day there, they met a very sophisticated middle aged man
who invited them to dinner. While they were eating, the conversation
turned to sex."

"When do we start acting it out?" Dawn asked impatiently.

"Right now, you're the sexy beautiful Lisa and you're eating dinner."

Dawn grinned in the pale light and started cutting her food with an
imaginary knife and fork. "And you're Joey?"

"No, I'm Basil, the sophisticated Englishman." Then I continued the
joke. "Basil argued that Americans were way too hung-up over sex, and
Joey said that Americans were very relaxed about it."

"Why, Ill wager that if I were to offer you ten thousand pounds to
kiss your wife's privates, you'd be embarrassed and want to punch me."
I said in my best upper crust British accent.

"When the Englishman excused himself to go to the men's room, the
couple discussed his offer. They had almost no money, and ten thousand
pounds was over eighteen thousand dollars. They decided to accept the
Englishman's offer. After dinner, the three of them went up to the Lisa
and Joey's room. Lisa quickly undressed."

I looked meaningfully at Dawn. She giggled again and started shedding
clothes. When she was sitting naked, I continued. "Basil admired the
beautiful Lisa and then dropped to his knees and pressed his face into
her pussy." I arranged Dawn on the seat so that her back was against
the door and she was facing me with her feet on the seat and her knees
up in the air. I then leaned down, cursing the center console, and
pressed my face between her thighs.

I rubbed my face against her thighs and nuzzled my nose against the
cleft of her mound. I rubbed her for a couple of minutes, listening to
her softly purr.

I sat up and looked Dawn in the face. "After several minutes, Joey got
impatient. 'Would you hurry up and kiss her,' he demanded." I pressed
my face back into her crotch and rubbed my lips over hers. I enjoyed
the heady aroma and the feel of her hot skin against mine. Then I
looked up again. "I'd love to, old man," I said, back in my British
accent, "But I really can't afford it."

I dropped my face into her crotch once again and started running my
tongue around the inside of her pussy. Dawn gasped. Then she laughed.
Under other circumstances I might have taken that personally, but I
figured that Dawn had just gotten the joke.

I spent several minutes exploring her small pussy, surprised at the
ease with which my tongue penetrated. Dawn's breathing got faster and
raspier. I pushed my tongue as deep as into her tunnel of love as I
could. I felt her shiver as the first waves of orgasm overtook her.

I gave her pussy a last few kisses, sat up, and watched her come down
from the mountain.

"That was a good, uh, joke," she said when she got her breath back.

"Glad you liked it," I replied with a big grin.

I knew that I had to get her home, but I figured I had time for one
more joke, if I had one.

"Once a beautiful blonde went to the doctor with a sore throat. 'Say
ah,' he told her and looked into her mouth."

Dawn opened her mouth wide and said, "Ahhhhhh," as I pretended to
examine her throat.

"The doctor hemmed and hawed, and finally pronounced, " 'You have
Sahara Throat. This is very serious.' The girl was shocked and worried,
'What can I do?' she asked. 'We need to inject a special creamy liquid
down your throat.'

"'Please hurry,' she said.

"'This works best if you're on your knees,' he told her. 'It improves
the saliva circulation.'" I nodded to Dawn and she got on her knees on
the seat. "'Now close your eyes, it open the glands.'" Dawn closed her
eyes. "'The injector is very soft and pliable, and you need to prime it
as if you were sucking on a lollipop,' the doctor told her. Then he put
the injector into her mouth and she started sucking on it like she'd
been told."

I put one hand on the back of Dawn's neck and started pulling her
forward and down, while I pushed my sweats down with the other. My
injector stood up proudly. "Open wide." Her mouth opened and I pulled
her down on my injector. Her mouth closed on it and her lips rubbed up
and down the shaft as her tongue licked and teased.

I was thinking that I needed to find all my old "Sex to Sexty"
magazines out in the garage-they were full of great and not-so-great
jokes-when she lifted her head up, opened her eyes and looked at me.

"That wasn't funny," she complained.

"Oh well. Can't be funny all the time," I said and guided her back to
my injector, which gave her the punchline a few seconds later.

 
-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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