tagHumor & SatireGiving Back to the Needy

Giving Back to the Needy


Giving to the Community What It Needs

An Adventure of Silky

"Hey, Jess, listen to this!" Silky was nose deep in a biology textbook.

"I am studying my own stuff you know," Jessica drawled from the novel she read.

"Yeah, but you're like reading books a hundred years old. Who cares about a Black Tulip, or Dumas, pêre? This is like interesting!" Her eyes sparkled as light from the nearby window made them look like tiny emeralds that matched the studs in her ears and set her red hair ablaze.

"Some of us find the Black Tulip interesting, Silky." Jessica arched perfect brows, and slightly jogged her auricomous locks.

"Whatever. The Alabama birth rate is about 70,000 per year."

"That's interesting?" Jessica continued to read of the perfidy of tulip breeders.

"Well, they say that for like every birth there are 1000 acts of sexual congress. -Don't look at me that way; they said it, not me!- That means 70,000,000 acts of intercourse – OK, OK, there were 70 million fucks in Alabama last year. Now if ¾ of them happened at night, that's 0.75x70 million," she banged away at her calculator, cursing under her breath as she redid it four times "or 525,000,000 fucks every night!!"

"Silky, I think that's only 52,500,000. You got the decimal point wrong." Jess remained uninterested.

"Whatever, it's still like a whole lot of screwing going on! That's like more than 4 million night fucks every year! Everybody in the state gets some!" Silky brandished her head like a toy dog and sanguine hair exploded around her face.

"We certainly produce an upward deviation in the mathematical mean, don't you think?" Jess smiled at the memories of the frequent acts of sexual congress, and aggregation, and clustering and even flocking together.

"I don't know. You think like blow jobs and anal count, or just straight fucking?" Silky frowned in puzzlement.

"I doubt if anyone knows how much copulation happens anywhere."

"So what I'm saying is that we like get more sex than most, so like somebody isn't getting any," Silky finally reached her point.

"I could have told you that before all the math, sweetie," Jess smiled with love for her sister.

"But we have like a duty to share with poor people, don't we?" Silky pouted.

"I think that's like money and food and stuff." Jess shrugged it off.

"Well, what about like people who are penurious of pussy? Shouldn't we like share that, too?" Silky had that look that bespoke trouble.

"Has anyone ever questioned your sanity, Fluffy One?"

"I'm SERIOUS! Well, actually, I'm Silky, but I'm being serious. Like the star; not Betelgeuse, the other one. I mean what I'm saying."

"George needs to hear this, sis. I believe it's casuistry."

George is our father/ lover /owner. We're a family. So I asked him, and he said if I wanted to spread it out I could, but that Jess had to agree to go with me, and we had to use condoms. Jess rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip, but finally said she would protect me from 'a fate worse than death,' whatever that is.

So the next part: how do you identify those sexually deprived but not depraved persons and give booty to the good guys. (We decided that satisfying the local dykes would get even more complicated, though no less worthy a project. One has to be realistic, after all.)

Clearly the giftees should be over 18. We discussed bars (we're too young) roller rinks (we're too old) and finally decided there were deserving poor right on campus, so we meandered over to the student center.

We figured that any hobbledehoy playing in a video gaming room there on a Friday night needed help. We wended our way toward a fairly tall guy who had bad hair, splotchy skin, and a weak chin. These certainly were impedimenta to his philogyny. He focused so intently on his game that he gave no thought to us.

"Hi there, big boy. How's the game?" I smiled my brightest smile, pushing my low cut top at him like a cement truck.

He dropped the controller as if burned. "What?" He showed his requirement for assistance.

"We're just a couple of lonely girls looking for a guy who can help us out." I winked a Brobdingnagian wink, an invitation as open as I thought necessary.

"What do you need help with?" (I though perhaps ending a sentence with a preposition.)

"What can you offer?" Again an undisguised opening.

"Do you like 'Rape & Pillage'?" he asked.

"What would be the point in that?"

"It's a game."

"Doesn't sound like fun to me! Can't you think of anything... sensuous we could all do? A vespertine activity?"

A minute perception formed in his head. Two hot girls and him. What could we do together? "You like air hockey?"

"Look, you want to fuck?" I bore easily.


"Where do you live?"

"With my parents." I was beginning to comprehend why his chances were low.

So I paid for the damn motel room since he had no money. Jessica's eyes were so bright, her smile so fixed, I pondered murder of a premeditated and gruesome type. Finally I began to offer myself to this cheechako, slowly disrobing for his delight. When I stood there in only lacy bra, my full C babies straining the fabric, and matching thong, I thought he should make a move.

"Are you joining me, or am I just getting naked here?" I get a little pushy, especially when a sister barely contains her mirth across the room.

"Oh, yeah." He had to work on his dialogue. He finally pulled his 'AC/DC' tee over his head, and stepped to me. He tentatively kissed me, lips pushed forward, mouth closed. This boy needed lots of guidance. I stroked his arms and pushed my tits against him. He had an erection, that I could feel, and I grasped his manhood through his pants.

"Does this give you any ideas?" I asked in my most sultry voice.

"Yeah." I hoped the future intercourse would surpass the previous . He unzipped his pants, and released his member. It was deformed! A premorsed shaft pointed at me obscenely, as if someone had taken a chain saw to him, or bitten....

"Have you ever had a blow job?"

"Hell, no, I ain't letting you get your teeth anywhere near my dick!" He espoused while I watched his tumescence evanescence.

"Gesú Bambino, I don't want to hurt you!"

With Jessica's help, I was able to convince him that I would not duplicate his prior...accident...and that my intentions were honorable, sorta.

I stripped completely, lay back, and invited him to start with labial lubrication of my lower orifice. He apparently thought he was removing paint, as nothing less than that would justify his chaetigerous brusqueness. I jack-knifed backwards, and suggested he just try to gently touch my labia.

I rhapsodized as to the wonders he would find in my little tight space, and described in detail to him how a subtle caressing of my inner lips would bring forth the attar of love, to enable him to slide his stick within my sheath. This seemed to help, and soon he had oil galore, and slipped double digits in my dimple. Jessica applied the rubber.

I began to enjoy myself for the first time in hours, and spread my thighs wider to facilitate his actions. My perforation puffed with every piston, and soon I implied he should proceed to further intimacy.

His maladroit movements eventually levered him above me, and then we faced the problems of spatchcock mating. He proved my often stated belief that girth overcomes length, so to speak, as once everything was in place he was able to penetrate my cavity in a manner that rubbed my little kitten very well.

I found myself transported once again to the land of orgasm, while he plowed my furrow with rapidly increasing sagacity. By the time he spent his liquid load within my chamber, we had become good friends. Not someone I ever wanted to see again, but someone whose deep lack of pussy had been satisfied by my generous gifts.

"So now do we go on to the next needy man?" Jess asked with that told-you-so smile.

"Oh, look, it's late. I better get home. I wouldn't want to do anything that would make Daddy mad."

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