Jack and Mary Nobbled Pt. 02

Chapter 30.

Mary's panties slowly slithered off of Jack's sweated brow, and landed on the end of his nose. Jack inhaled deeply two or three times before the garment fell from his, now, contorted face. He was in pain. The potent pheromones had hit Jack's amygdala which immediately sent strong impulses, along with a potent cocktail of neurotransmitters to the medial nucleus, which in turn dispatched numerous hormones into Jack's bloodstream informing his cock that it was time to for fornication now - even if he was piously sitting in church, pretending to be a Catholic.

Jack could hear, and feel, Mary's elastic hair-bands snapping off his balls one by one, in muffled zings, and electrifying elastic-band sling-shots that whipped around his sack like a wet raw-hide whip -his crotch was popping!

Mary was frothing at the mouth by now. Jack could hear what she was saying, but nothing made sense to him now anymore, and her words seemed to only have a tonal quality to them. All of the meaning of language had forsaken him. His duty had come down to this. He had to get his cock into something - preferably warm, and slippery, and secondly he had to get that cum out of his balls before they exploded. No matter what, where, or how, all he knew was he had to shoot his load and that was that!

Chapter 31.

Mary was still prancing around in front of Jack, lifting up her dress, and showing Jack how he had ruined her chances of being a saint, and bearing the pope's baby. Jack was wriggling in torment in the pew, desperately trying to unbuckle his trouser belt, to release his balls, so that when he shot his load, they wouldn't get hurt in the rush to orgasm.

Mary neared Jack's face her skirt hiked up high. She thrust her open-legged vulva directly into his face, and, holding the garment's pleats up with her elbows; she grabbed two handfuls of her pubic hair, one with her right hand, the other with the left, and pulled resolutely out from her middle - and upward.

Her cunt had a smile in it wider than a clam at high tide, and when it opened - from Jack's vantage point, it resembled a melon having been hit with a machete! Mary had shoved the thing mere fractions of an inch from the end of Jack's nose. It was red, and pink, with hues of magenta, and purple to it. There was a semi-translucent stream of sludge that driveled out of the blackness of a hole that disappeared up into Mary's belly. It was scary...!

Jack could hear Mary's cunt opening as she pulled its sticky wings apart for him to see. It sounded like a naughty child chewing oatmeal with its mouth open. During all of this, a thought passed through Jack's, dopamine-swamped mind, as he stared at Mary's burgeoning gash, was that it looked a lot like he imagined the gaping mouth of a attacking, lunging, alligator to be - minus the teeth, of course. He was taken aback - with a start!

Chapter 32.

Mary, by now, had her long, billowing skirt completely over Jack's head, and was rubbing her crack over his entire face with beautiful rhythm and quite an unique tempo; rub - rub: rub, rub, rub - pause; rub - rub: rub, rub, rub, and Jack was beating-off furiously under her skirted camouflage with gusto.

Jack came first, and somewhere in the depths of his being, he still - somehow - remembered that they were in church. Jack, as always - the considerate one - instantly worried, that his cum would cause a mess for the church's cleaning-lady, and improvised a contingency plan to mitigate cum-spillage by grabbing a bible from the pew-shelf in front of him. Jack's first two cum shots came too quickly for him to open up the bible. They hit Mary in the bung-hole region, and stuck firmly to hair around her puckered brown-eye.

With two ejaculations down, and who knows how many to go; in order to save the clean-up - following the first couple of cum-shots - jack flipped open the bible - willy-nilly - and wherever the pages stopped, he shot a load. Then he flipped again with one hand, whilst pumping his pole religiously with the other. Again he randomly stopped, and shot another load. Mary was busy holding the back of Jack's head tight up into her massive, sloppy, up-turned hairy canoe; rubbing herself off on the various undulating contours of his face - mainly his chin and nose, whilst Jack's tongue flashed and flicked in and out of his skull, whipping the daylights out of Mary's engorged clitoris, whenever it passed his open, mealy-mouth. By now, from the outside, all one could see, was Mary gyrating here bulbous hips and buttocks like a crazed Dervish; her feet planted firmly up, on the pew itself.

Chapter 33.

Mary was to be seen as to be slightly bent at the knees at this time.

Jack was seated between her open, spread-eagle, legs. Mary's shoulders took on the look of being rounded by now. Rounded- in, toward herself - she was working her cunt hard on Jack's mug, and her orgasm was prominently peeking above the horizon of her intent, just then. ...Head cocked to the right, then to the left, rolling about her hunched upper torso, like the dancing compass in a ship's weather-blown gimbal, trying its best to weather its way through the storm.

Mary's long, pleated, ankle length skirt - now totally obscuring Jack - in a swaying, curtained, bell-shaped arc that cascaded off her birth-widened hips: The fabric swinging to-an'-fro under her insistent urgings; Torrents of Black-Watch-plaid obscuring the debauchery of an underneath orgy. No one knew the extent of it, except Jack and Mary, and they were too busy to care.

Chapter 34.

Sequestered; steaming under Mary's swishing dome of woven fishy safety, wanking at his meat with the diligence, and ferocity, of a Trappist monk's first introduction to a paid Internet porn site, was Jack, in comparison. Meat in hand; head bobbing up and down incessantly; teeth hanging out to dry; grunting like a hog, with a frozen grin stuck like cheap wall-paper onto his contorted face, resembling the overly diminutive, and grotesquely animated, stance, and look, of the quintessential, smiling, Japanese salesman who - believes he - has a "bite on the hook."

Chapter 35.

On lookers noticed, and silently applauded, Mary's apparent flamboyant outburst of religious fervor and expressive devotion to the faith, whilst underneath her Jack's hurried strategy to mitigate exposure of the real goings-on here; trying desperately to limit the amount of cum splattered every which way to Monday, by making a cum sandwich of the bible - the stuck pages could always be palmed-off due to mildew or something like that, he felt. Why the church could actually profit from this - taking collections for the prevention of microbial infestation for instance. It would sound good - scientific even - belched forth from the solitary confines of a singular Sunday pulpit. The begging, guilt-ridden message, issued at elevated decibel, and breathy volume, accompanied by zero cadence, and little, or no style - carried on a Fire and Brimstone vortex of foul breath, gusting as if out of the very ass of Satan Himself -by Father Gallagher. Jack was always pleased to help out the church anyway he could, so he felt entirely exonerated in reaching for the holy text, opening it up - randomly - and cumming, with gay abandonment, into it, by the gill, with little, or no remorse whatsoever.

Chapter 36.

Jack shot enormous loads of cum, from the Old Testament, through The Epiphany, and into the New. Why Jack splattered Mathew, Mark, Luke and John. He did Mary Magdalene proud with two enormous ejaculations, with a smaller load bathing the pages of the raising of Lazarus. He didn't like that story all that much - What's dead ought to stay that way, jack felt. He shot his jizz through most of Abraham too.

Jack was banking on the stuck pages next Sunday, would be attributed to high humidity or the like, and brought on by Global Warming - what else...? Why, jack felt that if every other thing that was going wrong in society these days was being tracked back to - Global Warning - then why couldn't a bible with all of its pages stuck together be a part of the equation too? It made perfect sense to him, as he unloaded in fits of ecstasy onto the pages of The Garden of Gethsemane, and The Parting of the Red Sea. Jack always found Moses rather attractive, or was it Charlton Heston he hanker after buggering? It was a well buried skeleton at least, and Jack paid it no mind these days: Now that he had his patsy down at Fire Station nine, whom he could slip a length or two into the back-passage, when the mood took him. Jack was - unabashed. His cock ruled his life and he - willingly and dutifully - carried-out its bidding, no matter what! Jack was, in essence, his own cock's slave; and he liked it!

Chapter 37.

Somewhere, between the gyrating of Mary, and the shooting of loads into The Book, Jack could hear from under the folds of Mary's skirt, her cumming cry.

"Oh! God, I'm cumming! Oh! God! I'm going to cum! I'm cumming now, God! I'm cumming!"

Every fucker in the church, including the clergy, audibly applauded, thinking Mary, a mere - constituent - of the congregation, had - it is said - been visited by, The Holy Ghost, whilst in church of a Sunday - boring. But, this was exciting! The priest, standing, could get a good run out of this, and therefore boost the coffers a touch, and isn't that simply the mechanics of it all, in the end? You can't buy your way into to Heaven, but you can - certainly - purchase a ticket that leans toward that general idea. Tickets are sold each and every Sunday, during Communion -reservations contingent upon deposit. Guarantees are, strictly, not guaranteed.

Some weeks later, out of sheer curiosity, Mary shoved an XX2 up her ass one Sunday afternoon in the convent restroom, to see if it would soak-up Jack's cum from the night before. The cotton-wool bullet did the business alright, but all too efficiently from all accounts. The wad swelled up so fast, and expanded so much, that it took Jack half the night to pry it out of Mary's ass. He had to use pliers and a pinch-bar. Mary's ass was open wide for a week after the extraction, and Jack took full advantage of the opportunity by fucking the orifice, all he could, before it closed up, and healed upon him.

At the end of the week Jack ran out of cum, and went to the doctor's complaining. The doctor threw him out with an aspirin.

Chapter 38.

Jack would pretend to be sleeping, during those times when Mary took her epic shits the morning after, but in reality he would be as hard as a rock under the covers, just on the thought, alone, of Mary's ass-hole opening up that wide, and he wanted, so badly, to be in it - deep up to his nuts, deep in her stink - that sometimes, he would reach down out of the bed, for one of his socks, and whilst Mary happily cooked breakfast, he would slip himself into it, and rub himself off to completion, groaning like a hog rolling in mud, as he, unashamedly, filled his sock with hot wads of his slimy desire. Mary would have wanted to have swallowed the goop, straight out of Jack's tube, but he knew she was on a diet, and out of support for her efforts, he decided to let his loads go into his stocking, rather than compromising his wife's diet by cumming into her head, and having her to gulp-down his protein brew. Jack was quite the gentleman, on occasions, and he surprised himself many times, to the extent of sacrifice he would go to in order for Mary to feel happy. Mind you, he would have Mary blow his cock after he ate breakfast - which was coming shortly - but this load, he donated to the sock; on her behalf. Jack was a saint to Mary, and he let her know it - regularly.

On wash days Mary often puzzled at why only one of Jacks socks was wet, and would check his boots for a hole in the sole periodically. Mary just couldn't understand, though, why on one occasion the wet sock would be the right, then on other times - the left? Was Jack putting his boots on the wrong feet now and again, wondered Mary. So, she inquired with Jack, but he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head almost solemnly. Then he countered by asking Mary how did she know which was the left sock from the right sock, anyway? Mary told him that she could tell where his big toe had been. From that moment on Jack silently vowed to himself, to always use the same sock to cum in. Mary wasn't as stupid as she looked, he twigged.

Chapter 39.

In his younger days Jack had leaned, more than just a bit, toward the philosophy of freedom that he felt when he gave-in to the penchant that he claimed was a calling to the heart of a being a nudist, and not long after he and Mary were married, Jack insisted that they go Au-natural at home, discarding their worldly persona, along with their clothes and uniforms of an evening, and especially over weekends. Mary complied, but found it difficult to get anything done around the house, because Jack was on her fucking her every time she bent over. She would go get something out of the refrigerator, and Jack would be on her like white on rice. She might bend down to pick a piece of lint off the carpet, and Jack would have his rod up her in no time flat. One Sunday afternoon, Mary had the oven door open, checking the Sunday roast for doneness. By the time Jack had shot his load up her, all of her eyebrows were singed-off to the hilt. She got a fur coat out of that one, and a 19" color T.V.

Mary was just about to call it a day, as far as nudity around the house was concerned, when she became pregnant. After the pregnancy was confirmed, the nudist issue became a moot point. All of a sudden, they had to become - "Respectable," voiced Mary.

Jack had a hard time during the pregnancy, and Mary was on his case every week, about beating-off in the bathroom, and shooting his cum all over the place. She was fed up of cleaning up after Jack, and he didn't seem to care anymore. Sometimes Mary felt that he was doing it on purpose just to needle her. Like when he unloaded his balls into her makeup bag, and ruined $300.00 of cosmetics. She knew he had done it because she found lipstick on his jockey shorts the next day - and it was her hue.

Basically, in a nutshell, Jack just wasn't getting enough pussy, what with the pregnancy and what have you. Mary tried in vain to relive the load on Jack's balls, and would kneel down, every Monday evening, between his open knees, fondling, and licking, and sucking his enormous rod, while he screamed, and cheered at the ups and downs of his favorite football team playing there on the goggle-box screen.

Mary would bring Jack to the uttermost threshold of orgasm, with her licking and stroking, and then patiently wait, until Jack's team scored a touchdown, before forcing his helmet into her skull and bringing him over the top. Jack would cum hard into Mary's bobbing head, with so much force, that his sperm would hit the back of her throat, and be deflected up and around her adenoids, through her sinuses, resulting in two candles of cum shooting out of her flared nostrils, driveling like a pair of thundering rivulets, down and around her over-stretched lips, encircling Jack's engorged shaft, only to drool, thickly, off her chin, and down onto his dancing, semen-spouting, balls.

Mary tried valiantly to swallow all of Jack's cum, but his prodigious, and voluminously, relentless delivery was far too much for her to keep up with, and no matter how fast she noisily gulped down his load, eventually the cum always ended up squirting out of the corners of her mouth. There was a lot of clean-up after the game, but Mary put up with it, just to keep Jack happy - if only for a few fleeting hours - until he needed milking again, that is.

It's true; Mary had her hands-full with Jack and his cum-loads, not to mention a belly-full, because he filled her gut to the brim every time she sucked him. A year into their marriage, Mary had for all accounts and purposes given -up eating conventional food, and had taken to nibbling on morsels of grub off the table; just for taste. Jack, ostensibly, was feeding her solely with his cock-cum. It was fortunate for Jack that Mary loved the taste of his cum. To her, it was tantamount to Nectar of the Gods, and she would spend a lot of time after Jack had shot his last load into her mouth, gently sucking every last iota of semen out of the end of his cock, and Jack would have to pry her away off his rod, by pulling her head back off him by her hair, and as he got her off his knob, her tongue would be seen to flick wildly in mid air, desperately searching for more of his honey cum, much the same as that of a King Cobra testing the air for potential intruders, minus the fork though.

On such occasions, adroitly, Jack would rotate his lower torso around, whilst holding Mary's straining head at bay by the silky soft split-ends of her golden pony-tail, and presenting his quivering bung-hole, open at will, to Mary's serpentine - flashing - tongue, and inquiring quill.

Overtaken by desire and want, Mary would sink her tongue deep into Jack's dirt-box and shite, and her cream would ointment her cunt. After some time, he would drag her head from his hole, and give her what she was looking for, to console, her, by re-inserting his, now, rigid cock, back into her head, and shooting huge amounts of cum into her lungs, instead. All of which, she greedily gobbled-up, handily, and without urging - then it was back to the bung hole for her, and then back to the knob with Jack splurging. When Jack had had enough and called it a day, Mary would sob. Feeling sorry for her, and with loving grace, Jack would squeeze out one last cum-snob from his pole, and shoot it over her face. Mary was a good wife, and could swallow copious amounts of Jack's cum, until he was truly emptied-out and fell, irretrievably and soundly, asleep. Mary, disgruntled for reasons unknown even to herself, would spit Jack's flaccid wet-noodle-cock out of her mouth with vindictive dismissal, sidle up over Jack's body backwards, and rub her full open vulva, and shit-hole over the entirety of his face whilst he was out of it. Then, after she came to orgasm, pissing and farting into Jack's unconscious mug, she would dismount, and victoriously, make her way - swaggering as she went - into the kitchen; opening up the freezer and guzzling down a good pint and a half of strawberry ice cream - rubbing the head of her reddened clitoris on the rounded, oak, corner of the kitchen table, so wildly, that the very noise of her vulvae lips slopping together sounded like a plumber's plunger at work on a shit-house U-bend turd blockage; and she would cum there, with strawberry ice cream slithering down her neck, and her ass farting like drunken sailor.

Chapter 40.

After the baby was born - Veronica was to be The' name - Mary's love tunnel was ruined as far as Jack was concerned. It seemed to Jack, that having intercourse with Mary, in the quim, was tantamount to fucking a bucket full of worms - after all the worms had wriggled off, and there was only so many times Jack could use Mary's ass for love-making, before she got too sore back there to even sit down properly. So, they had a heart to heart, and it was agreed upon that Mary would rotate her holes for Jack. One week out of the month Jack would fuck Mary in the pussy, even though he thought it to be a waste of time and energy, but Mary liked it, and she wanted to have her orgasms too. The following week, Jack would use Mary's ass-hole to make love to her, but penetration would be limited to twice a day on weekdays, and unlimited access to her ass allowed on weekends, as long as she wasn't bleeding, that is. The third week, Jack would deep-throat Mary, fucking her esophagus, and ejaculate directly into her gut, owing to the fact that she couldn't keep up with swallowing all Jack's cum-shots at once. This way, she didn't have to worry about swallowing. It seemed the only practical thing to do, under the circumstances, conjectured Jack. Mary agreed, and the fourth week, Mary would have a rest, and all her holes would be left fallow, in order to recover. Jack could beat his own meat for a week, and leave her alone for a while, as long as he refrained from coming in her compact case, and she didn't want to catch Jack fucking the Sunday chicken either, like she did last month! They agreed to give it a go with one final stipulation. Mary insisted that Jack lick her pussy and her bung-hole during the week he was scheduled to fuck her throat. She liked having her holes licked - especially her stink-hole. Jack reluctantly agreed, and they shook hand on the deal.