Clitology

The women came in advance of their husbands.

There was much pumping of their clits to be done.

But first they would have their pussies, shaved, powdered and lightly feathered by cunt worshippers of every sexual persuasion. The goal was to induce nature, for one night, to magnify and grow in a bridled stimulation exercise. To excite and hold and build and build and hold... and build until... they could only think and feel about one thing : SEX.

Sex for the sake of sex. No bills, no spouses, not even children would matter. Only their cunts and every nerve synoptically connecting to their cunts would matter. C'est magnifique!

These are those who feel orgasms are the first option to anyone that ever touched themselves. They keep and do not diminish us. The best thing was to intensify them to the point of paroxysm and cum as hard as possible, as many times, or one time, or not at all. Everything leads to the next cum. The juice and the taste of cum, would keep one young like a prick that has been charging and recharging- afraid to cum and miss out on seeing a deeper shade of red with hot, pink highlights.

The clit pumping room was off the lockers through swinging doors, where trained clit pumping techs worked their machines with exactitude. Overhead lighting was "dark room red" and the floor floodlights sported banana yellow tones. Suspension swings were laid out next to the white pumping stations. Each participant was harnessed into a leather swing and masked for the intake of pure oxygen. Then, the sunlamps were lit and beamed down on the shaved cunts.

Soon, the cunts were sun kissed and ready for the fittings. The women were told to remain silent. They could not say a word. Words and unwords would come later with the cumming. The techs worked the customized pumps on the cunts. They were magnified under pin-sized white lights and already juiced. No one spoke.

Pressure was gently applied at first as the clits were unhooded and tubed in thimble sized vacuums. The clits were waiting, nakedly waiting, to be engorged by pressurized stimulation. They were going to be pumped into fabulously brazen shades of pinks and rude, ruby reds.

Some of the technicians teased and adjusted the pressure at up and down rates, to build the sensation of sucking from deep within- then they held it! The goal of pumping is to get total engorgement of the clit. All clit hoods were folded back beyond the suction area. This was a clit party. The energy in a roomful of hot, red clits would be wonderful. This was it.

Buckets of ice were carefully placed near every swing to assist the techs in teasing and maintaining the growth. The tubes were pre-Vaselined ( for growth in a controlled environment ) and ready to accommodate the emerging little pricks, those ever swelling domes of hugely, abnormal size.

Blood engorged the pink, pearl shaped buds to be almost thumb-sized. They swelled and ridged like circumcised prickheads. Little pink alien heads.

Before tonight, some were already huge, body building drug-sized clits. All this, and their owners still wanted to be pumped to greater, gargantuan sizes. They knew the larger you could get them, the thicker the stem and the so, so sensitive underside of the fattened buds for licking

Exhibitionism was the ticket into here. The swing club had hired a Clitologist to set up the deal. Working or not working, single or married, you had to love to get people aroused. You had to be in love with your cunt and all the pleasure it provided you and others who fucked and ate it. You had to like to play the whore role, smoking in the bordello, in costume. But this time, you had to give your cunt and clit control to someone who would : keep you from cumming. until you were almost ready to pass out with desire!

They had been garbed in white towels during the pumping, but now were ushered into another room that had been set up with magnifying mirrors so they could see the results. Some tried to quickly come off, but they were being watched and quickly escorted into the make-up room. Here is where care and a theatrical attention were appreciated by all, because their cunts were throbbing so much and needing any distraction from the anticipation factor.

The makeup artists worked with each guest on a very personal level. How can we accentuate your look? Can we change your polish? Bluen or golden your lids. Add a dangles to your tits? Highlight your hair? No, we're not allowed to touch you down there with anything, but makeup.

They lipsticked the outer and inner lips and rouged the cheeks and nipples, always using restraint. Natural redness was easy to see and not to be camouflaged in powders. Exotic pheromones were applied to accentuate the persuasive powers of subliminal scent. Lastly they were lightly oiled with a disappearing, emulsive substance that carried the aroma of raisins and fruit jellies.

Next, came the dressing room. Earlier in the day, the husbands had dropped off the costumes for the evening's " feshtivities. " Latex, rubber, velvet, rayon, silk, chiffon, rope, leather, heels, platforms, boots, girdles, scarves, thongs, panties, tap pants, bras, slips, togas and chain mail. Everything was there, waiting to be worn. Waiting to be torn. Waiting to be cum in. Waiting to be cum on. They dressed quickly.

Under other circumstances, dressing would take hours. But tonight, the feeling that you're carrying around a ten pound clit was enough to get you dressed and on your way. Changes of costume were available for those, who did not wish to be " cum sluts," who display fresh, hot cum on their costumes, like whores, who compete and flaunt their stained outfits as badges; medals to the redness of their pussies making cocks stiffen and erupt. Pricks, spasmodically shooting off to the spreading slut play of these tramps!

Heeled, costumed and made up, they proceeded to the bar. They knew this place. They had fucked and sucked here before. But never like this time. Bottles of Veuve Cliquot, white wine, and trays of fruit, fine c#annabis and c#ocaine dipped cigarettes were at the oxygen bar. The room was empty. Music twiddled in the distance, gradually becoming louder. They looked kookily at each other. " Oh god, we are such sluts!," their collective reasoning surmised. What's gonna happen next? We can't wait!

They started to grab and grope each other as the music woofed louder and then suddenly stopped. The doors swooshed open. Dressed in black, young, masked men and women, entered the bar. Pairing off, they engaged each guest and started sucking their tits and massaging their inner thighs with salacious intent. It was as if they had been schooled in the art of knowing where every nerve in the body and brain met and communicated sexually. Still, they did not touch one cunt, lick one pussy, or finger one longing twat. Then, they worked on the asses. They did finger the butts.

They kneaded and pinched and bit them They slapped them: sometimes softly, then hard, than harder. The guests had been eating, drinking and smoking and were getting buzzed and butted. The music was back, and they began to dance as only women can do with each other. They paired off, grouped, and danced in mating rituals. They proposed marriage to each other, for they knew, this was to be an unforgettable time, that could only bring them closer to each other, through it's succulence. If they lived through the experience. They were ready to implode!

Next to the bar was a large dance floor where obscene images were projected on the walls. The room shook with music and the vibration of what seemed like a thousand clits tuned to the frequency force of : MAKE ME CUM! MAKE ME CUM RIGHT NOW! I NEED TO... CUMMMMMMMMM! Please!

The administration assistants disrobed. They were pierced, leathered, cock and clitringed and pre-cumed. Fueled with Viagara, they began to work the room as it threatened to levitate from the energy of the first, long awaited orgasms. Paroxyasms!!

This sound was not unlike that which Ulysses heard before corking his naked ears to the Sirens of Circe. Yelping, whimpering, yelling obscenities - they came and came some more. Assistants rushed to wipe the floor, where cum had squirted or run down from their legs. Their heavily made up eyes were awash in that faraway look. They were the center of attention and just now, they could be looking toward Venus or Mars. This was appropriate, however, because two of the party rooms were posted with signs labeled VENUS and MARS.

In VENUS, the room moderator was a very tall, sophisticated, older woman with an enormous clitoris. She was made busy, instructing nymphets on just how to lick it. It was a mushroom. It was double ridged, erect, glowing. But it was a grain between the ridges where she told her assistants to concentrate. It had to be worked hard with the tip of the tongue. until they felt her soul spewing forth.

Then they had to insert a toy or fingers and catch her soul in her G-Spot There, they held her and made her beg for more. " Meet the new boss... ," their acting seemed to say. Suddenly they sucked her soul, her whole cunt, into their mouths and she came in waves, in torrents. The guests were friggin' themselves off to this display. They exploded on each other. And started to taste one another's pussies, licking up the juices that were popping out of them

One way mirrors were all over the place. This time, the undisclosed voyeurs were the husbands of these women. They were the same men that paid the bills, loved the kids, loved their wives and went off to their therapists to discuss why?

Why the idea of having a slut wife was taking up more of their thoughts. This was not the way there parents behaved. Their parents had house parties, played ' Twister " and flirted. This was something all together different : " See Gail in pew # 6, I was fucking her in the ass last night while she ate out my Judy! " This, however, was even beyond that pale. This was a special clitty party!

Mirrors looked on the MARS room which was set up like a warrior's tent, from long ago. Here the guests would experience what it was like to be a woman on the losing side. Here, they could be a winner if they showed enough skill and feel for being a camp fucker and follower. All they had to do was fuck and suck muscular men who happened to be play-raping them, not against their will..

Who knows how many of us are descended from what went on in a victor's tent? Some women just have a look of sex about them. Can we say they might be descended from a long line of camp followers? Certainly not, but that's not the point, here.

Here is the point. Imagine daughters hearing their mothers being fucked ( tent walls are thin, tent poles are thick ). Imagine, as they became older, they were forced to fuck and better their life because of their fucking skills. Who could blame them and who can deny that a strong biological lineage exists from these women to present day. They had the taste to survive. We don't usually immortalize them in our commercial cinema. They are more the stuff of literary circles.

The tent walls groaned with " Fuck me hard! " and " HARDER " orders. The young men responded by fucking their brains out. But they could not extinguish the fires in their swollen, large clits. Like beacons of depravity they glowed greater with the anticipation of each new clit-twanging event.

No husband was allowed to take his membership out from his pants. At this time, the only unveiled cocks belonged to the young men who were fucking the shit out of their wives. They loved every second of it. This time it was all advanced. No pressure. They didn't police, they didn't video, photo, or whatever-o they did most other times, when so many people got together for some fun. Nobody takes a notebook to fun! This, however, was beyond any of that Everything was prearranged, just drop the clothes off.

What they didn't know, was what was to come next.

The night passed quickly. Hard dicks, swollen pussies and assholes were everywhere. Most, left on their costumes that were virtually shelled with sperm. Guests were " snowballing " each other. Their vaginas expelling the cum out to one, while she's sucking you, then sloshing it between your tongues and, with a knowing smile, dripping it on your tits.

The studs were not totally drained, just resting. Escorts to debutantes. They were totally unused to this many women, whose pussies were speaking to them in tongues, radioed by their clits. Many had cum and cum again because the atmosphere was like an electric storm. Totally unpredictable. It didn't matter how old these women were, they were unmatched in their quest to cum.

The husbands were in the clit pumping room. The room was now lit like a bistro. There was only the distant sound of a cello. The pumps had been moved to the side and each man ( and in two instances, a woman ) was told to go to a particular swing station. The harnesses remained. There they stood, absolutely mystified. Hearing the first strains of a violin, they saw the door open and in strutted their cum soaked wives in the flesh, agitated like lions, prowling for more.

To each went their own, when a loudspeakered voice advised the guests to get back in harness. and present their clits! The husbands were amazed. They could only dream about what they were saw next. They were so alive, these clits looked like they were going to get up and walk away by themselves. Although they wanted to touch them badly, they had been forbidden to do so.

Next, they were told to sell their wives to each other. The men would grip and feel up her ass, shove their cocks in her mouth, tweak her titties. All this, in the interest of buying her. She's not livestock, she thinks and knows there is good reason to be bought and cum quite hard from the thought of it. Once bought, she fucks in front of her husband. He must watch her flash him the knowing look, while taking her clit to new adventures with another man. He cannot join in. But he will get his, too, tonight from another man's wife.

Portable cunt pumps were repumping, but, this time pumping the entire cunt, hood, lips and all. Not all were fucking. Many were bidding, selling and slut spreading. But one thing was certain. Everyone was hard! Everyone was ready to cum! Those who were fucking were attracting crowds. One man licked another man's wife to a string of cunt boggling spasms. Men casually walked by and spewed cum all over her, as a sign of their appreciation for her whoring ways.

At the end, there would be a few solitary screams, here and there, as the last juices flowed. Some pussies were being iced, others were still frigging their bright, beacon-red clits. Looking for the next big cum. Their quims were well fucked and frothing from it. Their cheeks were reddened and their eyes were west of peaceful.