A Load in Every Hole

"Are you playing with it?" She asked with a chuckle in her voice.

"Oh yeah."

"You really were thinking about those black men doing the nasty things to me that they were doing to the women in the videos?"

"I really was." He heard her ragged breathing and asked, "are you okay, Mary?"

"I'm . . . oh . . . I'm better than okay."

"Are you going to cum baby?"

"Only if you do too," she said.

And they did. Mary thrust up against her hand that was touching just the right places in just the right way. She didn't masturbate often but after tonight she thought that she had found a new hobby. It did, however, leave her frustrated and empty. So empty that she ached. She needed to be filled, she realized, but couldn't be because Mark wasn't there.

Two thousand miles away, laying on the queen-size bed in his hotel room, Mark moved his own right hand up and down his shaft bringing himself with one particular stroke beyond the point of no return. No power or force could stop the flow that was building, flowing like molten lava and then erupting once, twice three times each shot landing on his chest.

The husband and the wife heard the other's familiar sighs. It was Mary who asked, "was that good for you?"

"Wonderful," he said, "but I miss you so much, I need you so much."

"I miss you too darling. I wonder where they make videos like the ones that you seemed to like so much? If you do go back tomorrow night to watch more, make sure you call me and tell me everything. I'm going to sleep now but before I do will you promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Will you promise to go back to that place again tomorrow?"

"I promise," said a confused Mark.

She yawned but not out of boredom, from exhaustion. "Goodnight my darling," were her parting words.

Chapter 3

Mark had dressed more appropriately for this visit to the bookstore. He wore Dockers, loafers and rolled-up the long-sleeves on his button-down collar shirt. He couldn't believe that Mary insisted he come back to this strange place and watch more of the videos that had provided the inspiration for their phone sex last night. Not in his wildest imagination did he expect Mary to do anything but hang up when he revealed what he done and how he had felt about it. During the sessions of the conference that afternoon, he found it very difficult to concentrate on the subject that was being presented because he relived every detail of their conversation repeatedly in his mind.

As he had last night, he unzipped his pants--as much to relieve the pressure caused by his swelling member as to hold and stroke bare skin. The first two segments were segments that he had seen the night before. This second time, he found them to be just as exciting as he had the first time he saw them. And, this time, he paid even closer attention to the details and saw that the men really worked on the willing women as a talented team. Their objective seemed to be to drive each woman crazy with lust. Mark was certain that the women weren't "faking it" as Mary had suggested they might be. Each black cock that plunged in and out of a pussy or an asshole, long before it climaxed, was coated with a glistening sheen that was either artificial lubrication or the secretions of the women. Mark chose to believe that the fluids were internally generated and didn't come out of a bottle or a tube.

The two new segments were just as thrilling to view as the others had been. However, at the end of the last segment "The End" flashed on the screen that soon went black. "Reloading" was the new message flashing on the screen. Not knowing how long it would take for his favorite channel to be up and going again, he surfed other channels and confirmed what he had discovered the previous night. None of the videos on the other channels did what the series "A Load in Every Hole" did for him. Back on channel 80, he saw that the program was still reloading. Because he didn't want to miss anything he left it on channel 80 and waited patiently.

When the video was reloaded, the screen lit up with the familiar FBI Copyright Warning then the opening credits. They listed the names of the three black men alphabetically as "starring." He was right about the women. They were simply itemized as Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Smith, Jones, Abbott and so forth. Then he saw that a company that the company that produced the video was located in a nearby suburb.

For the next hour he watched half a dozen women willingly and enthusiastically allow themselves to be ravaged by the three black men. As he had the night before, he held off cumming though it was tormenting.

Back in his hotel room, hoping for a repeat of the night before, he stripped off his clothing before calling home.

"Hello," Mary answered on the first ring.

"Hi baby."

"Did you go to the bookstore?" She asked with excitement in her voice.

"Just got back. I saw another six or seven women with the same three men."

"And?"

"Well, it was pretty much the same as before."

"Did it turn you on again?"

"You're not kidding. Maybe even more this time because I knew you wanted me to go there. I think I paid more attention to detail than I did the first time so that I could fill you in."

"I wish . . . I wish I could have been there with you," she said softly.

"Would you do that? I mean would you go into a place like that Mary?" I didn't give her time to answer before saying, "I can't imagine you doing that."

"I don't know for sure. I certainly couldn't go into a place like that here and neither could you." Then she laughed and said, "I seriously doubt that there's anything like that here. Anyway, I sure wouldn't want someone that I knew see me go into a place like that." She slipped her panties off and whisked the T shirt over her body and slid under the covers before she asked, "were there any women in the bookstore?"

"Not that I saw, only men."

"Tell me what you noticed this time that you didn't last night."

He thought about her request before responding. His swollen cock was actually aching for attention. "I didn't tell you last night but all of the women had shaved pussies. Not completely shaved, mind you, but just a trimmed strip or small patch above their pussies."

"Did you like that? Did it excite you?"

"Yeah, I liked it a lot."

"Does that mean that you don't like mine . . . my more natural pussy?"

"Oh baby, of course, I love yours. You know that. Hey, you wanted me to tell you everything and I just thought I should share that detail with you. I imagine they keep the lips totally bare for the video close-ups."

"Do you want me to shave mine?" She teased.

"Honey, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. I love your sweet pussy with full pubic hair. I would also love it with just a little hair, or no hair at all. Whatever you want is what I want." My God, he thought. Was this the same Mary he had spent more than half of his life with talking about shaving her pussy?

"Let me think about it. Next time you see me, I may have a surprise for you down there."

Now this is getting interesting, thought Mark. "There was another thing that I didn't tell you last night. No big deal, but each of the women wore bright red nail polish. I know that you don't like that."

"Who said that I didn't. I thought you didn't like bright polish, you felt that bright red polish made women look cheap, that's why I've never worn it. Also, my mom, your mom, my sister . . . no woman that I know in Fargo or Moorehead wears polish. Oh, Betty wears red polish in the summer but that's about it. Do you want me to paint my nails?"

"I thought it was very sexy on the women in the video. Nevertheless, like I said before, I don't want you to do anything . . . to ever do anything that you don't really want to do."

"Let me think about it," she said. Then timidly she asked, "did you have the same feelings about the videos that you had last night? I mean, were you thinking about me as you watched the women in the videos?"

"Oh, hon, I really was. I don't know why, all I know is that thinking it was you made me so hot it was torture not to cum."

"Do you want to cum now?" Mary asked as she reached between her legs and felt the dampness that coated her nether lips.

"In a minute. If I touched my cock right now, it would explode in a second."

"And, all of this is because you were thinking of lil ol me being taken by those three men in the video?"

"Not taken, Mary, fucked! Fucked in the ass, in the cunt and in your mouth."

"Do you think you should be talking like that over the telephone?" She asked seriously wondering if their conversation was being heard by anyone else. "Mark, I've never heard you use that kind of language before."

"I'm sorry, I know you haven't honey." He rolled on his side and said, "I really don't know what's happening to me. Maybe when I get home everything will be out of my system and we can get back to normal."

"What's normal?" Mary asked.

Mark thought before saying, "honey, I'm not sure anymore."

"I really wish I could see one of those videos with you," she said for the second time during this conversation.

Something that had been bouncing around subconsciously in Mark's mind came to the surface. "Mary, I finish out here in a couple of days. Why don't fly out and spend a long weekend with me?"

"Hey who is this man on the phone? What did you do with my husband? There isn't anyway that Mark Weaver would do something so spontaneous and impractical." In a sexy voice she said, "I think you just want to get laid fella." Then she broke up laughing at her own comment.

"Oh baby, you've got that right, I do want to get laid. Well, will you come out?"

She knew that they could easily afford the spur of the moment trip. And, it would be fun to do something without carefully considering all the pros and cons like they had done before making any decision, no matter how small. "I had planned on volunteering at the hospital Friday and Saturday but I sure don't have to. Why don't you check on flight schedules and the cost? That can't hurt. Could we go see a video if I come out?"

"Of course, if you really want to?"

"Maybe just once and because it's so far away."

"Oh shit baby, this is so cool, so fucking cool . . . "

"Boy, someone's learned a lot of new words."

He knew that she was right. He always thought that people who cursed couldn't express themselves. He never used words like cunt, shit and fucking, not even when he was by himself or with other men let alone when talking with his wife. He had placed her on a tall pedestal very high above worldly things. Could it be that she wanted to come down off the pedestal? Could it be that he wanted her to?

They repeated what they had done the night before. They encouraged each other by telling what they were doing to themselves and what they were feeling as they brought themselves to nearly simultaneous, earthshattering climaxes.

Before they hung-up, a very sleepy Mary with her hand still between her wet legs--wet from gushing as never before by her own fingers--asked her husband the same question she had before. "I wonder where they make videos like the ones you seem to like so much?"

This time Mark had the answer. "Oh, that's no secret, the producer of the series is right here in the Los Angeles area. In fact, not far from here. I saw the name of a suburb on the opening credits of the series earlier tonight."

Chapter 4

Mary woke up with a smile on her face. There was something to look forward to. Then, she wondered if in the light of the new day Mark might change his mind. Mark the CPA had been a wonderful husband, father and a great provider for their family. He was industrious, hard- working, responsible and dependable.

She tried to be the perfect homemaker for them. Now that the kids were away at college, she did volunteer work at the hospital three or four days a week. She had attended Catholic parochial schools. Her older brother, Ron, was a Jesuit Priest who taught at a small school on the east coast. They attended mass regularly and confession several times a year. Wow! This time, she thought, there would something more to confess than just her being insensitive and not as spiritual as she thought she should be.

Before she married Mark, she was told by nearly everyone that she should go to New York and become a fashion model. That wasn't for her. Fargo, a home and family was all that she had ever dreamed of. Her dreams were realized when she married Mark and children completed their family.

Sex was satisfying for her and she believed for Mark as well. She was confident that he had never strayed, she had never really been tempted. He always teased her and called her the Virgin Mary, which was an accurate description when she met him.

In Fargo, there wasn't much to tempt people of their class. She had heard all of the jokes about Fargo but never wanted to live anywhere else. Even the residents agreed that there were just two seasons in Fargo, winter and August. Every once in a while, a couple would divorce. Other than that the gossip was usually limited to talking about how much weight this person or that person had gained or lost or whether someone could really afford to take a European vacation or buy a German luxury car. Nothing too juicy.

Now, after just two telephone conversations with Mark, they both seemed intrigued by what her husband had discovered about himself in a video booth in Los Angeles. She could never have imagined that they would let their guards down and talk as freely as they had the last two nights. She hoped, oh how she hoped, that he wouldn't change his mind about her flying out to be with him.

Not only did Mark not change his mind, he was making plans before the sun came up in Los Angeles or the clock struck nine in Fargo. He called the concierge and made arrangements to rent a car for three days. Then he went on the Internet and booked a flight on Northwest Airlines for Mary that would depart Fargo at approximately 2:00 that very afternoon. She would change planes in Minneapolis and arrive in LA a little after 7:00 that evening, round trip, $617. Then he called and rescheduled his own return flight to coincide with hers. When all of the arrangements were completed, he dialed their home number.

"Mary," he said before she could even say hello. "Write this down." He gave her the details of her flight out then said, "I know this doesn't give you much time to pack, sorry about the rush."

"Oh darling," she said excitedly, "I have plenty of time. I can't wait to see you. Anything special you want me to bring?"

"Just your hot body baby. Remember, you said I was doing all of this just to get laid." Then he laughed.

"My body will be hot all right. Are we going to that video place tonight?"

"If you want to, we will."

"Oh, I want to all right. I want to see for myself what made you break loose. Are we going to do anything else?" She asked softly.

"What do you mean by anything?"

"I mean . . . I mean anything. Anything you want love." She emphasized the word anything.

"You're not serious?" He said. It seemed as if both of them were talking obliquely around a subject that neither dared to even broach. "Mary, last night I let my guard down I told you exactly what makes me hot."

"I know you did my love. I'll be coming out for you, ready to do anything, anything for you." She paused and the message sink in. "I better hurry and get ready. I have a few things that I must do besides just packing. I'll let you use your new imagination to guess what other things. Bye my love. See you soon." She pursed her lips, made a kissing sound into the receiver and hung up, afraid to say more than what she had already said.

Mark stood there for a moment holding the buzzing receiver trying to understand what his wife was suggesting. He didn't want to assume too much but he had always prided himself on being prepared.

The sessions that morning were boring. If he were asked what had been presented he couldn't have explained it. If he had been tested on his understanding of the material he would have gotten an "F." He was happy that the afternoon was free because there was something he wanted to do and he didn't know how long it might take or complicated it might be. When he went by the concierge desk he was handed a set of keys, told that the rental car had been delivered and where it was parked.

He didn't bother even going back to his room. After slipping off his blazer and tie he walked to the parking lot and found the Blue Ford Taurus exactly where he had been told it would be. He had memorized a certain address that he obtained from the Secretary of State of California over the Internet that morning after he hung up from talking with Mary. He had looked in the yellow pages and then called local information but wasn't successful in getting a phone number or a specific street address. Finally, because a corporation was involved, he went on the net and contacted Sacramento. Bingo! In just a few minutes he found exactly what he was looking for. A business that had been covered with layers of LLC's, partnerships and straight corporations. As he backed the car out of its space, he realized that Mary was probably already on the plane in route to Minneapolis where she would make her connection for LA.

It had been a hectic morning for her. Before packing, Mary took a leisurely, very hot soaking bath. While in the tub, she shaved her long smooth legs and then, for the first time, shaped her pubic hair by trimming the sides. It was difficult to shave the area between her legs but she was determined and with the aid of a hand mirror completed the task. She loved the new bare look and vowed that she would never let it go to stubble. If her husband could shave every day, then so could she. After her bath, she hurriedly threw on a pair of faded jeans, sneakers and a top. It was a wonder that she didn't get a ticket as she drove the Honda Accord twenty miles over the speed limit to the nearest shopping center. There, in the Walgreen's she purchased bright red nail polish and a matching tube of lipstick.

In TJ Max, she found a beige, very short dress that was more suitable for a high school senior than a 41-year-old mom who was acting like a school girl. The sexy dress fit perfectly and hugged her body in all the right places. By the time she had returned home, called the hospital and told the volunteer coordinator that she couldn't be there Friday or Saturday, packed her single bag, painted her nails, set her hair and then driven to Fargo's Hector Field she had only an hour to spare before her departure. She sure hoped that she had enough time to complete the security clearance that had slowed the boarding process since 9/11.

Fortunately for Mark, there was a map of the area on the passenger seat of the Taurus. He had to refer to it twice before he found the building located in an industrial park twenty minutes from his hotel. There was a lump in his throat as he closed the door to the car and pushed the button on the ignition key that automatically locked all its doors.

There were several sets of letters--abbreviations of different companies-- affixed to the glass door. The company abbreviations didn't indicate what type of business was conducted inside the typical industrial building. However, the letters were the same ones he saw earlier that morning on the Secretary of State's website confirming that, indeed, he was at the right place. He took a breath and pushed at the door. It was locked. Then he saw a door bell on the wall and pressed the button.

"Ya!" crackled through a small speaker somewhere above his head.