tagHumor & SatireThe Secret Life of George Prufrock

The Secret Life of George Prufrock


The gorgeous redhead writhed in ecstasy beneath him. "Oh yes, George," she moaned, "give me more! Oh there's no cock like yours, honey! It's the biggest and manliest I've ever had! Give it to me!"

George Prufrock was only too happy to please. Drawing his hands over her huge creamy breasts, he drove his manhood into Electra's steaming hot pussy, pounding her with piston-like thrusts.

"I'm coming again!" the woman screamed, "oh I never imagined a man your age could be such a stud-muffin! This is heaven!"

Just then the bedroom door flew open and slammed back against the wall. Standing in the doorway was Electra's husband Chad. His hair hung down over his bloodshot eyes, and in his right hand was a Smith & Barney 30.06 pistol.

"Prufrock!" he growled, "I should have known it would be you!"

Electra scrambled up to shield George with her naked body. Even then he couldn't resist squeezing her soft butt. "No, Chad, no!" she cried, "please don't shoot him! I couldn't bear to live without .."



"George, the nurse is calling you!" His wife Janet peered at him through horn-rimmed glasses that sat on her too-large nose. "Don't you ever pay attention?"

"I guess not," he murmured. George got up from his chair in the waiting room and followed the nurse through the door into the hallway. Here she recorded his weight and took his pulse.

Then, saying, "Okay, Mr. Prufrock, we'll use this room," the young woman led him down the hall and into the examining room.

George sat down and watched the nurse, on whose nametag was written Amber. He admired her blonde ponytail and ample bosom as she looked at his chart. Glancing at him, she said, "Now, let's get your blood pressure."

As he rolled up his sleeve, Amber said, "Just let your right arm hang over the edge of the desk. That's good."

She moved forward to apply the blood pressure cuff, and as she did so, George's right hand came to rest against the crotch of her nurse's scrubs. "Ooh!" she murmured, "that's turning me on!"

Running his other hand through his thick wavy hair, George gave her a manly smile. "I thought it would," he chuckled, "I'll bet your nipples are getting hard, aren't they?"

"If you must know, they are!" Amber gasped through pouty red lips. By now she had the stethoscope under the edge of the cuff and the ear pieces in place.

"Then show me," George said, his warm blue eyes twinkling.

Amber gave him a seductive look, her eyes half closed. With one hand she squeezed the bulb to inflate the blood pressure cuff, and with the other she unzipped the navy blue tunic she was wearing. Now she drew it back and with a quick motion unsnapped the bra beneath. She pulled it away, revealing a soft creamy breast.

She began to move her hand over the firm pink nipple, breathing hard. "You're like a tiger," she said. "No woman can resist you!" As she glanced at the pressure gauge, she went on, "But I guess you already know that."

"Of course," George replied in his baritone voice, a playful smile on his lips.

Then the door opened and Dr. Murchison walked in. Amber quickly undid the cuff around George's arm and began to write on his chart. Somehow she had managed to zip up her tunic so that Dr. Murchison never saw what was going on.

The sly minx was even able to hide the blush on her cheeks, the sultry glow in her eyes. As she got up, Amber said, "His blood pressure's still high, 160 over 95, Dr. Murchison."

The doctor smiled, thanked her, and sat down in the chair that Amber had been in. She walked out of the room without a word. Poor girl, George mused, having to hide her animal impulses on the spur of the moment like that. But when you have the effect on women that I do, you soon get used to it.

"Okay now, George, for .. George, are you listening to me?" Dr. Murchison spoke sharply.

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

"I said, for your blood pressure, I'm thinking we'll prescribe some ACE inhibitors to start with, but not a strong dosage. Now, any other problems we need to talk about?"

George's yearly physical was soon completed. He settled up with the receptionist and returned to the waiting room, where waiting for him was Janet. She gazed at him, her arms crossed below her modest bosom.


"I'm in pretty good shape, he says, no major problems. Wants me to lose a little weight as usual, and take some prescription medicine for my blood pressure." He returned Janet's look, thinking, what color is her hair? I've never been able to decide. Is it really any color at all?

"Might as well get the medicine now," Janet said. "I need to go to Wal-mart anyway."

Once they were in their Toyota Camry, Janet continued, "I was just looking at your bald spot and thinking it's getting bigger have you noticed?"

"Not really."

"Let's see, we need some coffee spoons. And I want to get a pattern for this cute little outfit that I'm planning to make for Caitlyn did I tell you we're going to baby-sit her next Saturday watch that car in front of us while Jeff and Dawn go to the movies they want to see that new one Knocked Up can you believe the titles they're giving movies nowadays?"

"But anyway the outfit I want to make has cap sleeves and forty-eight rows of vorpal buttons down the borogroves with flapdoodle stitching and a frumious heebie-jeebie design. I'm going to make whiffling googolplex pants and sew a row of Higgs boson particles around the slithy tove in either a puddingwife or frabjous color I can't decide George are you listening to me?"

"Yes of course."

By now the car was stopped for a red light. Across the side street, a woman in her late 20s was jogging. A bright blue sweatband covered her forehead, above which was a rich mass of dark auburn hair.

"Look at her," Janet murmured, "barely wearing anything and it's not yet summer."

The woman stopped at the corner and jogged in place for a second. Then she drew one leg up and back, holding the ankle with her left hand as she stretched her thigh muscles. After releasing the leg, she .. quickly pulled off her red jogging shorts, revealing cotton thong panties. Down they came, then her T-shirt and sports bra went flying. The woman was now naked.

George stood in the hallway behind her, admiring her magnificent pear-shaped butt as rivulets of sweat trickled down her neck and onto her back. He had picked the lock of her back door with a paper clip and followed her upstairs, moving with the quickness and stealth of a big cat.

The woman, her body glistening with sweat, walked to the bathroom and got into the shower without seeing George. As she bathed, he went back downstairs and made a pitcher of margaritas. He returned and was standing in the bathroom doorway as she finished the shower. He took a long sip and eyed her voluptuous figure, just visible through condensation on the glass front of the shower.

The woman reached out, took a towel, and partly dried herself off; then, she got out of the shower.

"Hello, Desiree," George said, a playful smile on his lips.

Desiree saw him and gasped, letting the towel fall below her waist to reveal her honeydew-sized breasts that were soft and firm and bouncy all at once. Her juicy nipples, in the center of great dark areolae, were begging to be sucked.

"You!" she cried. "You're George Prufrock! I've seen you around town, and heard all those stories about you! Are they true?"

"Maybe none are, maybe all of them," laughed George, taking a sip of the margarita.

"How did you get in here?"

"That's not important. What matters is what happens now." And with that George threw the margarita aside and took Desiree in his arms, squeezing her soft butt. She gazed at him in rapt wonder, her green eyes agog at this manly creature who now held her.

Her breath coming in short pants, Desiree drew her pink tongue across her crimson lips and whispered, "Yes, yes, just please be gentle!"

With that George swept her up and carried her into the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed as if she were a toy. By the time she had landed and bounced once, George had removed his boots and clothes.

Now on her knees, with her butt resting on her heels, Desiree looked at him in awe, saying, "My God you're an Adonis! And that juicy cock! I want to suck it!"

"Be my guest," George grinned, his warm blue eyes twinkling as he stood before Desiree, his manhood just inches from her waiting lips.

She grasped him and began to suck hungrily, sliding her lips up and down, taking him all and moaning with pleasure. "Oh jeez, you're so delicious," she whimpered, "I may come just by sucking your cock!"

"Well, we can't have that," George said, pulling his cock from her wet mouth and roughly pushing the woman back on the bed. With cat-like quickness he mounted her and drove his cock the length of her soaking wet pussy.

At once Desiree came, digging her nails into George's back, her piercing screams of euphoria rattling the windows.

Afterwards she pushed him up with her arms, looking at him in amazement as she gasped, "My God, what a man you are! I've had dozens and dozens of men, but you're the first man who ever .."

"..walked through my bed of pansies. I mean, just tramped right across!" said Janet.


"The man who comes to read our gas meter, George! I want you to call and complain about it. I mean, really!"

"Okay, I'll do it tomorrow," he said. He parked near the entrance of Wal-mart. They began shopping, filling a basket with goods for Janet's sewing project. In the fabric section a woman smiled and waved at them. It was Lisa, their 40ish neighbor who lived down the street.

"Hi, you guys!" she said, "Hello George. Oh Janet, do you have that recipe for raspberry cream parfait, the dessert you brought to the potluck supper? Scott and I thought it was so scrumptious!"

"Of course, dear," Janet replied, "I'll write it down for you, but the secret you know is to browbeat the heavy cream and remember to gyre and gimble when you burble the raspberries."

George looked at Lisa's reddish blonde curls, noticing that she was beginning to eye him hungrily, giving him that come-hither look he was so familiar with. With cat-like quickness he moved behind the woman and began to nibble on her scrumptious neck.

"George, please!" she murmured, "your wife is right here in front of us!"

"Don't mind her," he smiled, "she never notices me anyway." With one hand he deftly unsnapped the bra beneath the sun blouse Lisa was wearing. Then George slid his hands down below the blouse and up under the bra, cupping and squeezing her soft ripe breasts, savoring the heft of her bosom.

"Oh jeez, that's making me hot!" the woman cried, twisting her torso. "Don't stop!"

Several moments passed. George kissed Lisa's neck and fondled her breasts while she chatted with Janet about that dessert and then began to tell her about her rose garden.

Soon heat was coming off her body in waves. Lisa turned her head sideways and whispered, "George, I thought I might run into you today, so I didn't wear any panties! My warm pussy is just aching for your touch, darling!"

"You minx," he chuckled as his manly hand slid down and under her skirt where Lisa's scrumptious pussy waited. As she talked to Janet about patio furniture, he caressed Lisa's thick bush and her soaking wet lips with his hand. Each time the woman paused to listen to Janet, she moaned with pleasure.

"Get your damn hands off my wife!" George suddenly heard.

He whirled around and saw Lisa's husband Scott looking at him furiously. George pushed the woman from his arms as she cried, "No, Scott, don't start a fight with him! I'm not worth it!"

But Scott was too angry to be sensible now. "No man fondles my wife's pussy right out in public!" he snarled, "not even you, George!" With that he swung a haymaker right.

George ducked it with cat-like quickness, then landed a solid counterpunch on Scott's chin, sending him reeling and then to the floor. He got up but George decked him again with another left.

Now dazed, Scott managed to get up again. "Okay, George, okay," he gasped. "I've just got one request!"

"And what is that?"

"... you want t' get in a round of golf next Sunday? I could get us a tee time, say, 1:30?"

George, hands in his pockets, smiled at his friend Scott. "Sure, that sounds great."

After they had bid goodbye to their two neighbors, he and Janet made their way through the check-out lane; then, he pushed the cart out to the store entrance. Faint rumbles of thunder sounded in the northern sky as great drops of rain began to fall.

"Oh will you look at this!" cried Janet. "I'll get my dress soaked! George, can you get the car and bring it up here there's a good boy."

He hurried across the parking lot, slowing as he saw two girls who appeared to be college students walking through the parking lot near his car. They were talking of Michelangelo. One of them, a cigarette dangling from her red lips, was wearing a dark wool beret set at a rakish angle.

George paused, a breeze from the river Seine now ruffling his wavy hair. He took another puff from his Gauloises cigarette and glanced at the Eiffel Tower, silhouetted in the distance through the yellow fog. Then he gave the two girls his irresistible George Prufrock smile.

Their eyes lit up at once; the girl that he somehow knew was named Amelie blushed and drew her hand through her short dark hair. She whispered something in French to her companion, and both laughed nervously as they walked on. But several times they paused and glanced back at him.

They'll be back, George thought confidently. I've still got it, the old Prufrock charisma. The bed in my Left Bank appartement will be filled tonight with the prime of French womanhood. I'll play their bodies like a violin, satisfying their every carnal need.

A bold and debonair figure, he stood there in the rain: Prufrock the seducer, the envy of every man and the object of every woman's desire. Somehow he knew that he would always be that kind of man.

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