Gestalt Ch. 00.1: Special Delivery

Pat is an 'interdimensional ambulatory intelligence' (Pat's words, not mine) that happened into our lives by way of a mysterious unordered pizza delivery while Chancy and I were practicing selections from the Illustrated Kama Sutra while high on home-brewed angel trumpet flower infusion and a semi-heroic dose of Psilocybe cubensis var. 'Golden Teacher'.

Normally I wouldn't open the door for a random stranger while naked and wearing a strap-on still glazed and dripping with my girlfriend's squick, but the tall, thin, pimply young man seemed so...bright, like literally luminescent...and earnest in doing the right thing (even while replaying a loop of images from a pizza-delivery viz MFF threesome porn vid he'd been masturbating to in the car while driving over in the not-so-deep recesses of his mind; ya know, it's important to pay attention to the synchronicities if you hope to hang with the influence of divine grace).

While his eyes roamed over my flushed, glistening flesh, the darling lifted the lid of the pizza box and a dank waft of steam rolled out from under the grease stained corrugated cardboard lid, thru strings of mozzarella stretched taut from gooey gobs plastered to its undersurface, indicating that the box had been slightly crushed, inverted, or perhaps both for at least a portion of it's inexplicable journey. My olfactory lobes were assailed with rich sensory impressions of: a middle aged Italian peasant woman vigorously thrusting the middle three fingers of her right hand into her slick, slightly sour vagina while lazily stirring a bubbling pot of tomato sauce with her left, her grey tiger-striped cat with one missing eye purring while rubbing its flank and tail against her exceptionally hairy shin; the fat, balding, sweaty baker whose shop was below my childhood apartment handing my father a warm, fresh baguette to go with his morning coffee while smiling lecherously at my newly budding breasts; an elderly filipino woman with ovarian cancer caused by persistent toxic agricultural chemicals accumulated in her tissues, hunching over a conveyor belt scanning for imperfections in the pineapples slowly rolling past her to where her sister-in-law and her childhood friend packed them uniformly into cardboard flats; the flavor of the mouldering leaf litter on the floor of some verdant tropical rainforest.

"Large 'Island Special' with extra cheese, extra mushroom, and MauiGoldTM pineapple, hold the salami," (synchronicities!!) he read off the greasy receipt clutched tightly in his left hand while his eyes remained fixed on the 8" silicone pole wavering in his direction from where the soft burgundy leather harness pressed its flared base tight to my mons.

"Did you order this?" A shy grin crept reluctantly across his face as his gaze slowly ascended, like a day old helium balloon slipping from the hand of a momentarily distracted child, to focus on my moist, puffy, slightly parted lips. The upper set. From what I could see, he had nice teeth.

"No...but someone did." I encouraged him.

He awkwardly thrust the receipt toward my face, "Is this the correct address?" 313 Pine Top Place, Arkham; funny (not funny 'ha-ha'; funny 'fucking weird').

"No, but I used to live there, with my ex-husband; it's two states away." I didn't mention that it had burned down with him and his new bimbo inside on our wedding anniversary the year after our divorce ; I mean, it might be a relevant clue but, you know, sometimes, well...tmi. It's something I'm working on (my therapist says i seem to be getting better but i sometimes question whether a therapist can have a relevant, unbiased opinion on that subject...i mean, she knows me too well).

"Oh...maybe they forwarded it..." somehow it sounded plausible. "Well are you going to pay for it or do I have to 'return to sender'?" He seemed a bit forlorn about this possibility, and I didn't really want to put him to any more trouble; this was complicated enough already so I might as well go all in.

"We'll take it. What do we owe you?"

"Should say on the receipt," he mumbled, unclenching his hand to let it slip from his grasp. It floated gently toward the floor and I had to bend forward quick, twisting my torso sharply to the right to avoid upsetting the pizza box, my breasts on full display as they jiggled with the momentum, to catch the crinkled slip of paper about half-way down (or was it half-way up?). From my new vantage, I spied a notable bulge snaking down the leg of his tight denim jeans, apparently half-way hard, yet already rivaling the dimensions of my prosthetic device. Did someone say hold the salami? (don't judge me! even though i'm technically a lesbian, there are rudimentary parts of my brain that are still running old programming that i haven't updated cause i'm afraid it might mess with my configurations; besides it's important to keep an open...mind and not be too...rigid when dealing with matters of an obviously para-metaphysical nature such as these.)

Remaining in this somewhat compromising but surprisingly comfortable posture, I was able to quickly scan the receipt for a price but only found:

Total Due: $ COD

Well this was not clarifying anything for me so I glanced back over at the...elephant in the room...It was gradually increasing in both size and angular measure and a sub-routine in my mind began calculating its vector and potential trajectory; I swallowed, kinda hard (maybe half-way hard?).

I deftly shifted my posture to a fair approximation of camel pose and reasserted my attention on the mysterious scrap of paper; handwritten on the top in red ink, along with my former marital address, was the old cell phone number of my high school boyfriend who had deflowered me under the bleachers during the homecoming game my senior year, just before he'd shipped out to Afghanistan and been blown to bits during his arrival at his first combat duty station by a surprise enemy mortar attack. At the bottom in the same precise red lettering was "Return To Sender, c.o. Pat" followed by a 10 digit GPS grid coordinate, corresponding lat/long coordinate and UTM Time Zone designation. Funny.

"Ummmm, gee," I peered down my openly displayed nakedness as if searching for something particular which was evading me, his eyes tracking slightly behind my gaze, "I don't seem to have any cash...on me at the moment...I don't want to trouble you, but do you think you could take something in trade?"

"Uhhhh... yeah, maybe...depends on what you've got to offer." He nervously licked his lips as his attention grazed my wild strawberry-blond bush peeking out above the strap-on harness. His eyes were roving again and I felt his shifting focus dancing ticklish along my skin; it was distracting my ability to consider the negotiation at hand so I deftly folded and tucked the receipt into the side strap of the harness and brought my hands up to tweak both of my nipples, activating their twin tractor beams which riveted his ocular orbs and held them steady with their metronomic pulsations.

"Who is it?" called Chancy as she stumbled into the doorway of our boudoir; while I was away dealing with our unexpected visitor, she'd outfitted herself with her new patent leather 'pony hoof' boots (she still had trouble walking steady with them, even when sober), my pink glitter-gel swirly unicorn-horn dildo with the suction-cup base, fastened onto her forehead with my sparkly-pink crotchless panties (she's so resourceful, and coordinated!), and her bit-and bridle set dangling against her cleavage from the reins looped around her neck.

"Dinner," I answered, "got any cash on you?"

She reached up to grasp the lintel for support and executed a clumsy pirouette, inviting us to look for ourselves, finishing with her back to us, displaying her lusciously curvaceous bottom punctuated by a 2" diameter chrome buttplug from which hung a black genuine horsehair 'tail', brushing softly against the backs of her creamy thighs as she seductively swayed her hips side to side. My filly was feeling frisky. She whinnied and stamped her right foot twice.

"That means "no"; I guess it's trade then...and don't mind her, she's a bit of a show-pony, has this exhibitionist thing...but my therapist assures me it's nothing to worry about. Sooooo...you see anything you want?" He was openly drooling onto the cooling pizza; well, I couldn't really blame him, she has that affect on me sometimes too. I reached up to catch the thin rope of saliva drizzling from his chin, reflexively bringing my fingers to my mouth to suck the slick fluid off of them; slightly minty fresh.

"Here let me take this off your...um, hand." I gently closed the lid of the box, took hold of either edge in my hands, and turned to my right to drop it casually on the floor, causing the lid to pop open once again. I curled my spine up straight, kneeling tall in front of him; I was finished with the haggling and prepared to tender payment in full.

My right hand clasped his massive erection, now pointing due east, thru his jeans; my left reached for where his hand still hovered where it had been supporting the pizza, guiding it and turning it to rest palm down on the top of my head as it swiveled to call to my pony-girl. "Mitzy (that's her pony-girl name, she gets ornery if i forget to call her that), prance on over here and help me pay for dinner. I have a nice, big, juicy horsey cock for you."

She whinnied excitedly as she turned and absolutely galloped across the floor (sometimes she's too eager to follow directions well; it's probably my fault, she could benefit from a better trainer.) Once she arrived she began prancing in place (perhaps i hadn't been clear enough with my directions?) while furrowing both hands between her thighs.

I quickly shucked his jeans down around his knees; commando, as I had suspected (it's the little things that make a difference, right?). I pressed my face into him, lips at the base of his cock, nose nestling into his thick bush, inhaling deeply his rich musk of sexually frustrated teenage male. Delicious. I spread my lips wide, sliding tightly along the side of his cock, my tongue painting the veiny skin thickly with spit, until I felt the flare of the head scrape my cheek. I got a subtle whiff of smegma, probably a couple days worth of pissing and wanks since he'd peeled back the hood and gave it a good washing. Well here the job was half done for me already so I might as well be a good sport and finish it (i mean, i certainly wanted this thing squeaky clean before i introduced it into my little pony's steamy love grotto).

I grasped the rigid shaft with my right hand and levered it away from his hip; yeah, "hold the salami", pretty fucking accurate I thought as I hefted it, assessing its girth. I slipped the silky plum between my lips and sucked it in to swirl my tongue around it, savoring the slightly funky flavor dissolving into my saliva (ok, i know, i'm officially lesbian, but there's just something novel and...magical...about an uncut cock; all that extra skin slithering around, the smooth, delicate, uncalloused surface of the protected glans, so much like a gigantic clit that it almost satisfies my core lesbian desires while i lick and suckle on it).

I sucked it in a bit deeper, paying extra attention behind the curling flare where germs like to hide (if there's one thing i can really truly claim and own, it is an extreme sense of fastidiousness around maters of genital hygiene; i can't stress enough the importance of this issue if you are to go around playing with things the way we do). After a couple more minutes and about half of his 10ish inches of sausage stuffed in my face, I felt confident that the front end was sufficiently prepped; but why leave a job half finished when so much has been accomplished already? I noticed his hand was just resting limply on top of my head (maybe i'm a bit presumptuous, but i put it there for a good fucking reason and now i felt a bit...cheated, somehow).

"Excuse me," I interjected into the relative silence, "I know that we are the ones with a debt to settle here, and I don't mean to impose, but...well, if I'm going to manage to get this gigantic cock all the way into my throat ('gigantic' is the most effective word i've found to instill a sense of confidence in men when referring to their genitals) well...I might require a bit of assistance, umm...perhaps a bit of gentle force?" I noticed his other hand hanging limply inches away from where Mitzy was still busy squigging away with both hands while watching me ready her treat; ok, so he wasn't an 'initiative' type. It's good to know where everyone stands on this sort of thing, it makes transitions more...manageable. Well since she had the front gate well occupied I decided he could be better deployed at the rear hatch.

"Mitzy, alemand left!" She whinnied gleefully while executing a semi-graceful prancing half turn. "Good girl!" I crooned to her; positive reinforcement is very important for Mitzy. With her plump tush now turned toward him, I prepared to give instruction (it's important to maintain patience with people, it helps to maintain more harmony of relations; it's something I'm working on).

"Ok, now...ummm, what should I call you?" I asked as I stared up at him with my best lost puppy look (the one i usually practice in the mirror just before i masturbate).

"Uhhhh...how about 'Buddy'," he offered. Ok that was good, he was engaging knowingly and willingly and it seemed that might lead to more, but it was important not to put too much pressure on him thru the transition.

"Ok, ummm, Buddy...if it's not too much trouble, would you be willing to hold Mitzy's tail up and tug gently on it, but not too hard?" I grasped the thick horsehair appendage and demonstrated a suitable technique that I figured wouldn't be too difficult for him to grasp; we could work on increasing levels of complexity once he was comfortable with the basics.

"Uhhh...yuh, sure thing." Confidence, thats what I like to see in a man. I realized I'd gotten lax with his cock so I gave it a few pumps to keep him engaged; it's important to reward progress (that's what my therapist is always telling me any way; it's probably a big part of why I've been seeing her for so long). He took a firm grasp of the tail a bit above my hand and gave a few tentative tugs; I guided him in refining it a little bit and also tugged his cock similarly for extra reinforcement.

"Ok Buddy, wow, that's really great how you got that so quick! I'm impressed!" He grinned a bit more; yeah, nice teeth. "Now if it's not too much to ask, I'm wondering if you could also, umm...help me out with that other thing...umm, that I mentioned before, ya know?" I reached for his left hand, still resting on top of my head and slid it down around back to cup my occiput and kinda demonstrated what I was looking for to see if he got it before I stuffed his cock back into my mouth and it got harder to give clear directions; no harm in doing a dry run, ya know? He seemed to be getting the hang of it, and I glanced over to see how the other hand was doing; still pretty good over there too, and Mitzy was starting to moan a bit more with the added stimulation.

"Buddy, really, you're like a natural at this...ok? Yeah, this is gonna be fun!" His erection was flagging slightly, probably from the unexpected concentration required from him; I figured it wasn't such a bad thing since it might enable me to slip the massive dong down my gullet just a little easier. So I opened wide and slurped my way up along its length until the crown pressed into my throat and I started to gag a bit. I still had the width of my hand to get inside, so I reached back again with my left hand and encouraged him to pull my head toward his belly (if i'd still had my long, silky, feminine tresses i probably would have had him grab it just like Mitzy's tail to simplify things for him, but i had recently decided to opt for a more traditional 'butch' cut; my therapist thought it was a good idea to help with reinforcing my tenuous identification issues). He seemed to catch on and was actually applying some firm pressure to the back of my head as I gagged my way down another inch-and-a-half further.

Mitzy was now moaning significantly louder and I was getting a little short of breath (don't ever let anyone try and convince you that deep-throating is 'easy; it's actually a fuck of a lot of hard work, but the results speak for themselves) and Buddy's cock was now well lodged in my throat, so I tried to breath in thru my nose (i don't know why i always try that when i've proven to myself umpteen dozen times that it doesn't work and never will, but i try to remain optimistic and believe in the power of positive change). So now my throat was pretty well plugged and my vision was starting to have that creeping dark blotchy thing happening a little around the edges, and Buddy was really finally getting the hang of bearing down on the back of my head pretty strongly, like he really meant it, ya know? And I didn't want to discourage him just when he was gaining confidence and proficiency, but I was feeling like I might pass out (serious, like when i've said "yes" to those three or four extra tequila shots that i just knew i should have said "no" to) and then I suddenly realized I had totally forgotten to have the talk with Buddy about 'safewords' and the importance of 'safety first' in dominance play (which this kinda feels like a little bit by this point, but I'm pretty sure he's lacking the theoretical foundation to grasp the significance of these issues) and so I start to panic just a little bit as he's obviously a newbie to this sort of thing and he might not notice that I've passed out and just keep jamming his cock deeper down my throat while I slowly asphyxiate (i mean four minutes really isn't as long as it might seem sometimes, especially for a horny mysterious teenage pizza delivery boy with a receipt full of cryptic messages concerning my dead ex-lovers) cause now my whole field of vision is starting to go murky grayish and Mitzy's moans seem kinda farther away than they should and suddenly my nipples feel like they're about to explode (like they have rubber bands wrapped around them again and again real tight, like me and my second-cousin used to do in junior-high when we made out with each other in the basement before we started playing with boys, 'cause they're dangerous and they might knock you up or give you AIDS and you can really fucking die!) and oh mama help me i don't wanna die without cumming one last time again...

...then my lips finally press hard against his pubis (i've always loved that word!) and i start swallowing like crazy and i'm cumming harder than i can ever remember and i think i hear the angels singing, really pretty, and the heavenly host is blaring away on their trumpets and crashing their cymbals and i'm spinning in a whirlpool of light and sound, just spinning around and around and then he lets go of my head and i'm falling backward onto my ass (which i still think is too big even tho Chancy says she loves it) and his fat cock is pulling out of my throat and i'm trying to keep my lips right so as not to scrape his helmet with my teeth (and yes, he does have really nice teeth!) and it's pulling out of my mouth laying a thick bead of warm jizz along my tongue as it exits and i'm smiling 'cause i'm pretty sure i managed not to scrape it with my teeth and now i can finally breath again (sweet baby jesus and mary and joseph) sweet, crisp air wafting in thru the still open front door and it kinda burns as it knifes into my lungs and i pray that it's ok that i just aspirated some of his semen and a bright sunburst goes off in my head fading from yellow to gold to orange to red as another streak of jizz splashes across my face and i hear Chancy making that funny noise she makes when she's cumming and then i'm cumming again right along with her but it's getting really dark really fast and the sound is rushing in and away at the same time and i'm sinking somewhere far away and i just know that everything is gonna be alright...