Compulsive Promiscuity

And the song filled my ears, those lyrics,

"And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind

And you know that you can trust her

For she's touched your perfect body with her mind"

(Leonard Cohen, "Suzanne, "1965)

No one had to tell me what to do. I had studied the Pussy Power bible and knew what my mission was and how to complete it. I began to lick. The strange thing was, her vagina tasted like tropical fruit, passion fruit. How did they perform that trick?

What of the ruby? I figured it was a genuine ruby because gemstones are cold to the touch. When I started to lick Luella's royal pussy, my tongue touched the cold gem repeatedly. I continued to practice what my studies had instructed me on. I now knew the taste of manna from heaven. I continued until she'd cum multiple times. Each time she climaxed, she'd push my head closer. I was a supplicant in Pussy Worship, the dogma of Pussy Power, and to use the vernacular, "eating cunt." I could quote verse and chapter on cunnilingus from the Pussy Bible and swallow all she'd squirt.

Lest I forget, somewhere in the middle of my delicious treat, my body took flight. I had the impression of air flowing rapidly over us. Maybe it was the air conditioning that ticked on, but I swear we flew over the Nile River and above the Khufu Pyramid, it's brilliant limestone shining in the rising sun. There was an opening at the top of the marvelous structure, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. As we approached, it opened. We flew inside where a multitude of sacred Egyptian animal-headed Gods welcomed us.

Then the dream image faded. As I awoke, I was still on the altar, sucking and licking, my forehead glued to Luella's hairless pubes. I opened my eyes. Yes, there was the big ruby. Luella did not attempt to return the favor, but I must have cum many times. I finished my worship session and got dressed. As soon as I put on my panties, they were soaked.

Those lines of Leonards came to me, was it a sign I had fallen in love?

"I'm aching for you baby

I can't pretend I'm not

I need to see you naked

(Leonard Cohen, "There Ain't No Cure For Love", 2009)

Having passed the initiation, I was now a member of Luella's upper social register, an advisor advised by the Priestess. I was given an obsidian pin with a gold oval in the center and told to wear it at all times.

Luella now confided to me, plans to build a Megachurch in Harlem. She was having difficulties with the zoning board. She had found an old church that provided the size lot she needed, but getting a demolition permit was much more difficult. A vital city official, a tall Italian, was coming to discuss the matter and had promised to get the license approved. The only lynchpin was, Luella needed my help.

"This guy is critical to the future of Pussy Power,"

She said, but he was also a sex addict. Luella knew she'd have to give him a piece of pussy, find prime young pussy, or there would be no permit. She decided I was to be the prime pussy, the flesh, and blood incentive. I argued with Luella. She explained that my sacrifice was necessary to further Pussy Power.

"Why don't you fuck him," I said.

"I already have," she answered, "now it is your turn."

I was tired of arguing and gave in. Of what importance was another fuck if it helped our goal.

The tall white man and his short black companion arrived Sunday afternoon. At the same time, Luella showed the assistant around and explained how much good we had done in the community. I was supposed to entertain the kingpin in my bedroom.

Luella introduced him,

"Lizzie, this is Mr. Will Dee."

I smiled, "Hi."

They both laughed, but I didn't get the joke. Mr. Dee was no Marcello Mastroianni. He looked more like one of those guys throwing fish in the fish market.

He followed me up to my room. So close, I could feel his hot breath on my neck. No sooner had Mr. Dee entered my room and slammed the door when his big cock came out of his pants. He pushed me down on the bed. Before I could resist, my skirt and panties were down below my knees. He aimed. I had no ruby.

'You got a condom?" I asked.

'Never use em'"

He spits on his hand to wet his "meatloaf" and skewers me like a shishkabob. His dick was massive. I hadn't taken on such a big dick since the drug guys raped me. Why do all the guys who fuck me have such big cocks? It was painful, but from experience, I knew the pain would diminish after a few days. He came very quickly muttering,

"I'm so fucking horny. My wife won't let me fuck her."

I patted him on the head,

"That's ok, Baby, Pussy Power will turn your dick into a golden rod."

"God, I hope not. I'm allergic to Goldenrod."

We finished without further explanation. Mr. Dee wiped his spermy cock off on my pillow, zipped up his pants, and stumbled towards the door, just in time. I could hear Luella and his female assistant approaching. I pushed Mr. Dee out into the hall, where Luella found him. I spent the next ten minutes douching his sticky cum out of my power pussy. I guess he had some sort of power cock. His cum stuck like Elmer's Glue.

Luella seemed quite pleased with my performance, although I didn't know why. The guy was so horny he came like a virgin.

"Tomorrow, the inspector for building and safety will come by to plan-check the architect's blueprints. If he is desirous, I'd like you to give him a hummer of a blow job or a fuck, whatever he wants."

That was when I lost my cool.

"After teaching me the power of the pussy you want to turn me into an architectural whore? No, No, No"

"You ungrateful little bitch." Luella slapped me across the face knocking me backward. She ran to me, taking me in her arms.

"Please, dear Lizzie, Pussy Power needs you. I will make you a Cardinal of the Church with a full stipend."

I began to reconsider.

"Ok, ok, but this the last time, after that monster cock of Mr. Dee, I feel like someone stuck a raw jalapeno in my snatch."

The next day came too quickly. I was still sore.

To my chagrin, Casey and Hammerwort were interested in my pussy and hardly interested in anything else. They came up to my room unescorted and were quite rude.

"You, the bitch we're supposed to fuck?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Hammerwort." He pointed at the other slob. "This is my assistant Casey. He'll take sloppy seconds."

"There aren't supposed to be two of you."

"Yeah, well, ain't that too bad, sister, you better hurry up if your boss lady is to get what she wants."

Casey got behind me and pushed me on my bed.

"Come on, Boss, fuck her, and let's get out of here."

"You're not going to fuck me?" I asked Casey as he held me down and ripped off my blouse.

"You got two nice tits, sure, I'll fuck ya, but the Boss goes first."

Casey was holding me down. He was as strong as an ox. His Boss was a sweaty fat guy who piled on and crushed me. He took a long time getting his rocks off. His dick wasn't significant. By the time the Boss shot his load, I felt crushed, but now I had to accommodate Casey.

I was too exhausted to resist. Casey said,

"I want a trip around the world."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't worry, sugar tits. You'll find out."

He pulled out his penis that was sallow and yellow but long. Casey was determined to fuck me hard. He slammed into me like he was digging a trench. Maybe he was trying to teach me a lesson. Why? I had no idea, but I don't think he believed in "Pussy Power." His boss' cum was still inside me and acted as a natural lube. I couldn't do anything about the weight he pressed on me while slamming home. By the time Casey finished working my pussy over, his Boss's monkey grease was all over my thighs and caught up in his pubes. When he pulled out, I figured it was over even though he hadn't cum. Some older guys are like that, but he turned me over and went for my ass.

"Hey, not that, I don't want you to butt fuck me..."

But it was too late. The Boss held me down. Casey rammed himself inside my rectum while I cried out,

"Help! They're raping me."

Hogwort, or whatever his name was, clapped his ham hands over my mouth to shut me up. Casey's face was turning red, which was or wasn't a good sign. I didn't want him to die in me. I'd heard bad stories about a guy's cock swelling and getting locked in. He was still living when he finally pulled out of my ass without even cumming, which was good. Then the fucker rolled me onto my back, and as his Boss took his paws off my mouth, that bastard shoved his dirty dick into my mouth and blasted his jizz down my throat."

"That's what we call 'a trip around the world' Bitch."

I lay there in shock. Fucked and ass raped, and my mouth fouled in the Pussy Palace. The two thugs, like Mr. Dee, used my pillow to wipe off their wet cocks. What's with that? Don't these guys have hankies? They left, slamming the door with not a sign or word of gratitude.

I knew this was the last straw. I couldn't take any more of this, even for Luella's Mega Pussy Church. I was done. After that double rape, I felt like shit. That workout was too much, and it scared me.

I had no idea what other whore jobs the Priestess had in store for me, but I had the feeling, a whole lot of cock was coming down the road. I was going to be on the receiving end.

To get some fresh air and think about my options, I gargled and showered off the sweat and cum. That was a job in itself. I was too tired to dry my hair, but I figured if I went down to sit in the garden, it would take care of itself. After a half-hour of sunshine, Willie showed up. He puttered around a while, and his pants started slipping. When he came up to me, he said,

"Honeysuckle, how is ya do-en,"

"Not so great today, Willie."

"Well, Honey, you just need something to suck on."

I wondered what he had in mind?

He took out a hard licorice candy stick and handed it to me.

"I've got a better idea, Willie."

His belt was down to the level of his balls, so I just reached out, grabbed that old cigar, and gave him a well-deserved blow job. You never saw a man happier than that senior fellow. If I ever get to heaven, I hope they have that blow job written down in the good deeds column with a notation that I swallowed every drop.

I didn't say a word. I packed my bag that night, left my keys on my thrice cum smeared pillow, and crept out in the direction of the scary 125th Street subway. I was afraid I'd get raped again by the bystanders on the long staircase leading up to the train tracks. When I saw Willie standing there, I felt safer. He took my small suitcase and walked me up the long staircase that rose like the Tower of Babel above the bleak streets that mark Harlem's southern entrance. Being with him, no one made a move towards me.

I kissed Willie on the cheek, and I left the big man, who might have been a model for Lennie Small* on the Harlem Station platform. He waited until the subway pulled away, waving at me with his big hands and beneficent smile. I rode the subway train down to 33rd Street Station, where I transferred to the Long Island Railroad. Thirty-five minutes later, I was at JFK. I booked the next flight out and was waiting on line thinking,

*Of Mice and Men, Novella by John Steinbeck, 1937. Lennie Small was the gentle giant possibly mentally challenged.

"There just was some shit I will not eat," I said to myself. I think it was a line from ee cumming's pacifist poem.

I got to the boarding area just as the Stew called for the passengers to board. When I finally got up to the plane's entry tunnel, there was the same blond Stewardess from the previous trip.

"Oh, I remember you." said the Stewardess, "You were with the blind guy."

"You are confusing me with someone else," I said.

I boarded the plane behind a large group of tourist class passengers. I slept most of the trip between two enormous fat people. The guy to my left kept leaning on my left tit while he was asleep. I just tried to twist away, which meant sticking the guy to my right with the other boob. He wasn't sleeping and didn't seem to mind. He even gave me a business card, before we deplaned telling me,

"If you are ever in Chicago, look me up, sweetie-pie. I'll take ya out for a steak dinner and a meat-pie." He winked at me when he said, "meat-pie."

It was a red-eye flight, the plane's lights were dimmed so people could sleep. I extricated myself from the center seat between the fat guys and headed for the bathroom at the front of the plane. A young military guy was seated there. He smiled at me. I went into the bathroom, but I couldn't close the door. The door seemed blocked. It was the military guy. He stuck his head in the space and said,

"Honey, would you like some company in there, give a horny soldier a break. At that, his hand came through the partially opened door and went right under my skirt. He already had his dick out, but it didn't look too big. He pushed me back onto the toilet seat. His pants fell, and he lifted me, impaling me on his stiff cock. Wait, wait, I said.

"There ain't no waiting hon."

"You gotta make it fast, soldier boy."

"You got it." and the GI went to work.

Having no choice, I held on to his shoulders and wrapped my legs around him. He smelled like whisky when he tried to kiss me. His ass was cold. His dick was a comfortable fit. Since it was already inside me, I just let him finish his uninvited penetration. He jerked into me a few times. Then it was over. I could feel his wet cum shoot hard and deep inside me. It must have been a while since he'd been fucked. He paused as the last cock salute finished. Then he laid me gently back down on the toilet seat, washed his still erect cock in the sink, smiled,

"Thanks, hon, you have done your patriotic service," and closed the door.

I opened the toilet and did my best to pee his sperm out and wipe away what was left behind. When I exited the cubical, he was sitting there grinning like a Cheshire cat. He reached out and tugged quickly on my damp skirt and waved as I passed. I got back to my seat and somehow squeezed between the two guys, who, in my absence, had leaned closer than before.

When I disembarked in Los Angeles, I passed the Stew standing next to the Captain at the plane's front.

"Thanks, guys, for a great flight." I handed her my Pussy Power Bible." You might find this useful."

"When is the HBO Special?" she asked, taking the slim book.

"I'll be sure to let you know."

That was when I noticed the Pilot's pant's zipper was unzipped, and there were crusty white spots on the Stew's skirt. Is that why they call it the cockpit? Oh Jesus, is this all there is?

I hurried off the plane, dragging my carry-on, hoping not to see the soldier. It was early morning. I got in line for the fly-away bus. The black guy who was the driver helped me get my bag stowed.I sat up front behind him. I wasn't in the mood to meet any new suitors. The bus driver's name was Carollo, he was obviously gay, so I was safe. He asked me what I was doing in New York and when I mentioned Remo, he chortled.

"Oh, I know that guy from the bathhouse, Latino, big ass and small dick, but funny?"

"Yep, that's him. Did you fuck him?"

"Oh, heavens forbid, I am strictly a bottom."

"Can I ask you a question? I mean no disrespect."

"Go on."

"Where do you black people get these names? I have never heard of 'Carollo.'"

"That's an easy one, Dad wanted 'Carl' and mom wanted 'Carol' so they put it together. Car-ollo."

"Well done, it's cool."

"Thanks," said Carollo, and we were on our way. There's so safer catbird seat than with a gay man."

1

Story 6 -INCEST WITH MY UNCLE

Okey dokey, let's fast forward to my most recent shrink session. Dr. Thomas, who I refer to as "Tom's-Ass," tells me that an incestuous experience I had is a partial cause of my confusion. I think the Shrink is the crazy one. It was a lovely experience. OK, here goes.

I was planning on spending the summer at Arrow Lake. I'm sure "Tom' s-ass" thinks my casual sexual promiscuity is related to that idyllic summer fucking with a family member. Maybe he is right?

Our family owns a small cabin in Flathead County, Montana, inside Glacier National Park. It gets as cold as a witch's tit as early as September. We've always tried to have our vacation from June through July. It's a beautiful area. The air is clean, the sky is clear-blue, and the clouds when visible look like cartoon faces, animals, whales. You see real moose and bear every once in a while passing in front of the cabin. The one thing you need to be careful when exploring is snakes. There are at least ten different rattlesnakes under the ponderosa pine savannas. Uncle Fred told me only one type of snake was poisonous, but I didn't know how to tell one snake in the grass from another. It's like my experiences with men. I usually end up with some guys cock in my mouth or worse. But if I didn't enjoy it, I guess I wouldn't do it?

Uncle Fred, my father's younger brother, was about thirty-eight years old at the time. After a grueling year of college academics, that I had successfully endured, it was time to relax. I'd sowed more than a few wild oats, too many, according to my Shrink. I was looking for a good rest.

My parents had decided to travel to France to tour the wine country north of Nice. They went to taste new and recent vintages and purchase cases for the wine cellar. They did not want me vacationing alone at the cabin, so I invited my best friend, Daphne Tulip, to accompany me. The two of us left the east coast. After several changes we ended up at the little airstrip closest to the cabin. We were having a good time, resting, swimming in the lake, and cooking our breakfasts over the old cast-iron wood-burning stove. We'd get fresh eggs and delicious smoked bacon at the general store a half-hours bike ride away.

Uncle Fred, at that time, was serving as a dentist in the Navy. He was given a furlough for a month and dropped in on us unexpectedly. Fortunately, not with a bicycle, but driving his old open-topped green Jeep. He asked if he might pitch his tent nearby, but we said

"Come stay with us. You can sleep on the extra cot and avoid the mosquitos that are as large as hummingbirds."

This arrangement worked in our favor. Uncle Fred took us to restaurants for dinners and treated us. Fred was not stuffy like my parents. He was a bachelor, good-looking with a full head of hair and likable, six feet tall with a chin like Kurt Douglas, and a concerned demeanor that made you feel safe and protected. I didn't realize Daphne was smitten, her Tulip opened wide for him. I couldn't blame her.

The day before he planned to leave for a trip to Yosemite, we had a rollicking good time at a country-western restaurant about a half-hour drive away. I drank much more than I should have and fell asleep during the drive back to the cabin. When I awoke, I was alone in the cold car, and the full moon was shining through the window. I was desperate to pee, so I got out of the car and squatted in the dirt and let go. The pitter-patter of my pee stream splattered up on my ass. Boys have such an easier time.

Feeling better, I stumbled into the cabin and went to shower the pee and dirt off in the bathroom. I saw no one. When I came out of the cold shower wrapped in a towel, I heard peels of laughter coming from the bedroom. I was shocked to see Daphne astride Fred; both were nude and in the middle of an amorous fuck session.

I could hear Leonard's tune in my ears,

"And I even heard the angels declare it from above

There ain't no cure, there ain't no cure, there ain't no cure for love"

(Leonard Cohen, "Ain't No Cure for Love," xxxx)

Fred and Daphne had found what I was still searching for, sex with love. Oh, I'd found sex. I'd been fucked so many times my pussy was contemplating having a 'Do Not Enter' tattoo just above the entry point. Even though my pussy was swollen continuously, but the zenith of true love had eluded me. God bless those who found it.