tagHumor & SatireThe Tragic and Sorry Saga of Fuckstick Jones

The Tragic and Sorry Saga of Fuckstick Jones


The Tragic and Sorry Saga of Fuckstick Jones
a lighthearted erotic story

Jedidiah (AKA Fuckstick) Jones was born on May 15th, 1985, in the tiny hamlet of Busted Nut, West Virginia. His parents were Sara and Mayfield Jones, farmers.

Being farmers, and with seven other children to feed, the Jones family didn't have two nickels to rub together much less spend on 'doctoring'. Consequently, Sara's pre-natal care consisted of her husband telling her, on those days when she just didn't feel right, "Ain't nothing wrong with you a day in the fields won't cure." She never had an ultra-sound or any other test that might have told them prior to the birth that something was wrong with the baby.

Not wrong, technically, just very unusual.

When Sara's water broke and she felt the first contraction they sent their oldest daughter, Betty Lou, to fetch the midwife. After having seven kids they figured this one would pop out without much fuss, so time was essential.

Betty Lou was the fastest runner in the family. Having four older brothers, a father who sometimes drank a bit too much, and crazy Uncle Barry living in the old outhouse down by the duck pond, she either had to run like a deer or forget saving herself for marriage. She was back with Tessy Bucket in no time at all.

When Jed came out they right away figured he had a major deformity. The baby had what looked like a footless third leg hanging down between the other two. Once the initial shock wore off they realized it wasn't a third leg at all.

Mayfield went from being horrified that he'd sired a monster to strutting about proud as any peacock because he'd produced a fantastic specimen of manhood, or at least a specimen with a fantastic manhood, either one.

Doc Pritchard was called in and he and Sara discussed sending the baby to a hospital up north to have the thing shortened but Mayfield was having none of that. He, of course, was not the one who'd be in charge of trying to keep the damned thing covered in a lousy diaper. Baby Jed's prick wriggled like a snake, like some independently minded thing attached to their son's body, and would often work its way out of whatever constraint his mother devised for it.

Jed was going to be a very popular kid.

And so he was.

His siblings found no end of amusement at their baby brother's anatomical anomaly and all the clever ways he chose to exploit it. Sara was just happy she didn't have to buy any more pacifiers, although breaking a kid of thumb-sucking was hard enough. She did not look forward to teaching him not to suck that damned wiener of his when it was nap time. If he kept doing it up to the point it actually started to work she'd never get it away from him.

Of course, talk about the deformity spread through the small community like the proverbial wildfire, and curiosity seekers arrived bearing pies and cakes and the best of wishes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jed's extraordinary appendage. Someone snuck a picture of him and sold it to a national tabloid but nobody believes a thing they print anyway. Jed's remarkable schlong wound up right alongside Batboy in the Oh Brother! category of believability.

Notoriety just seemed to evade them, and the Jones family was just as glad. Plain people don't appreciate the spotlight.

"He's marked for something special, though," his father would say whenever talk of the boy came up, and nobody argued with that opinion although neither did they offer any possible particulars of just how that something special would be manifested.

In school Jed was never at a loss for something to supply for show and tell, although not in the official classroom capacity. Their one-room schoolhouse teacher was old Miss Marmalade and she would have fainted dead away if he'd whipped that thing out in front of her. But the best show and tell was always in the playground before and after class. That was when Alan Munching brought in the cow's brain in a zip-lock baggie, smuggled to school in his Batman lunchbox in lieu of the ketchup sandwich he usually brought. Alice Crenshaw brought in her big sister's vibrating dildo and that got passed around for a sniff or two. And every once in while Jed would whip out his fuckstick (as his daddy had taken to calling it) and display it to whoever cared, usually after he'd taught it a new trick. The best was having it tie and untie itself into a knot. By the time he went to high-school he could pick things up with it and was hoping to teach it to throw a baseball.

Miss Marmalade, like most people, had heard all sorts of stories about it and found herself staring at the front of young Jed's pants wondering where the hell he put it when he wasn't using it for something, afraid it would rip free of whatever bounds they'd devised to keep it in check, erupting into the classroom and making T-Rex noises as it terrified the rest of the class. By the time Jed graduated she was a nervous wreck and had lost almost all of her three-hundred excess pounds, winding up a fashionable size four when she'd started out wearing leftover tents from the girl-scout camp in nearby Bumstink.

None of the other Jones kids did anything after high school besides work the farm with their parents. It wasn't that none of them had the smarts, but, well, all right, it was that none of them had the smarts. That group collectively didn't have the gray matter of a possum. It scared the bejeezus out of Mayfield that some day he'd have to turn control of the farm over to his kids. His only hope for their future was that either they'd strike oil somewhere like that hillbilly family on TV had or maybe some big-city developer would figure their spread the perfect place for a shopping mall or casino. If they had to rely on their own wits, the family was doomed. Fortunately, Jones was a fairly common name and would not die out with them.

Jed had apparently made out at both ends, getting the lion's share of brains as well as dick. He was no Einstein, but his grades were good enough to send him to college on a scholarship. So, the fall after he turned eighteen, Sara and Mayfield packed his bag and tearfully put him on a bus for the big city of Knocker Downs, Kentucky.

People in Busted Nut get easily blasé about things, and Jed's masterful schlong was no exception. Consequently, his sense of being special had waned years before, so it was with an open heart that Jed arrived on the campus of Upton University where it took all of five minutes for his secret to be discovered.

The bus ride had been exceptionally uncomfortable and Jed had to empty his bladder as soon as he found the dorm. Two other guys stood beside him in the community bathroom when he unleashed the beast and Jed became an instantaneous celebrity.

Temporarily nicknamed The Snake, he was subjected to the ignominy of having his member measured. College students tend to be very precise, although their powers of estimation leave much to be desired. They grabbed a common foot-long plastic ruler first and then realized the folly in that and went back for a yardstick.

Jed's dick measured out at twenty-eight inches.

"How big is it when erect?"

Jed shrugged because he had no idea.

"You've never had a hard-on? A boner? A stiffy, a woody?"

Indeed, although his cock had been, for a while, a source of great discussion and interest back home in Busted Nut its sexual potential had never come up (to coin a phrase). No girls had ever been fascinated enough by the rumors to take him on and guys just automatically assumed that a young man with such a monstrous dick was constantly pleasuring himself, which was as far from reality as possible.

Speculation among Jed's dorm-mates was that a full-fledged erection might take so much blood away from his brain that he'd pass out and never get to use the blasted thing, but to make sure they pledged to get him tested as soon as possible.

Finding a volunteer coed at good old Up U was not at all difficult. Finding one that didn't mind her efforts being captured for posterity in digital photography narrowed the field a bit, but eventually the wannabes were weeded out and a sophomore named Julie Pismire was successfully recruited.

Jed had never been with a girl before. He'd kissed one, but apparently having a treasure in his pants did not equate to any aptitude for lip-locking. He'd been so inept a kisser that she refused to even consider trying that again with him and passed word around their quaint little community of what an absolute loser Jed was. Kissing him was, in her opinion, "...like kissing the wrong end of a monkey." How she came by that analogy was never adequately established, but the reputation might as well have been etched in stone and Jed finished out his teen years quite alone and lonely.

A person is more than whatever anatomical oddity they are burdened with (or graced with, depending on one's point of view), so it might do well here to give you an overall picture of Jed Jones.

Jed at eighteen was just shy of six feet tall, thin but not bony, muscular from a life spent working the farm but not disfigured like some of those steroid-enhanced body-builders who look like walking homes for wayward tumors. The current Governor of California comes to mind.

He was not handsome in a GQ sense, but far from homely. A new hairstyle (anything but the way it was when he walked off that bus, cut according to how much stuck out when his mother's salad bowl was plopped on his head) would help, as would a new wardrobe. Some of his new friends tried to talk him into various body piercings but Jed wisely declined. He had kind eyes that were a soft green color and gentle hands that belonged more on a concert pianist than a farmhand.

And he had the biggest dick on record.

As for the young lady his friends had procured for his coming-out experiment, Julie was relatively short (just a tad over five-two) comfortably slender but not emaciated like all those size-00 Hollywood robots, with long dark hair and straight white teeth and deep-set dark eyes that a man could easily drown in. She had a wide mouth and ruby lips, and when she arrived at Jed's dorm room for the Big Event she wore a tight pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, sneakers and ankle socks.

Jed's roommate, Cliff, was there, as were Tom and Burt, the two young men who had discovered Jed that first day in the lavatory. Frank was there also, and he was the cameraman, armed with a dangerous looking digital movie camera and two digital SLR's. The room was barely big enough for them all to fit in much less move around in without tripping over each other, but space was made on and around Jed's bed (the lower half of a set of bunk beds) for Frank to maneuver about and get the best angles. The significance to science and society in general of what was about to transpire was not lost on any of them, except perhaps Jed who understood only that he was about to get laid for the first time.

When Jed and Julie met there were no violins playing, no tinkling piano forming a backdrop to some romantic encounter, just a bunch of sweaty guys and one very defensive-feeling girl. Julie had never been surrounded by so much testosterone in her life, not even the time she personally 'congratulated' her high-school football team for winning the big Turkey Day game against their staunch rivals across the river. It took her three days to wash the cum out of her hair after that night, but still the sensation of heightened sexuality she felt then was no match for the rabid lecherous anticipation she felt in that dorm room.

The best defense being a good offense she said, "Let's see what ya got," disposing of any preamble and thus any doubts about her ability to perform as advertised.

With coaxing from his friends, Jed opened his pants and rolled out his cock.

Julie almost bolted for the door.

"You've got to be kidding!" she said. "What the hell do you call that thing?"

"My Daddy," Jed said softly, "always called it my fuckstick."

And so the Legend of Fuckstick Jones was born.

Julie cautiously held onto it, hefting its weight in both hands, and examined it as if she expected to see a "made in China" label somewhere. As it moved in her grip and actually started to engorge she understood its reality, and the hazards she was about to face.

"What exactly do you want me to do with this?" she asked.

"Suck it," Frank said from behind the lens. "Fuck it, do whatever you want. It's his first time."

Julie held his cock firmly and locked eyes with Jed. "First time? For real? Does it work?"

Jed shrugged. "Never tried," he said.

Julie took in a great breath and steeled herself for the challenge. She had him get naked (which he did with great embarrassment) and laid him down on his back. His cock roped in a large arc across his thighs and belly, the head resting near his sternum. Julie pulled up her sleeves, studied the problem for a while, and then took the sweatshirt off altogether.

She wore no bra beneath and had no reason to, actually. Her breasts were small pale mounds on her otherwise darkly tanned chest, with brick red nipples like gumdrops glued to the centers.

Having grown up in a large family with three sisters, Jed had seen his share of tits before, and they'd all been much bigger ones than hers (even his somewhat obese cousin Malachi had bigger jugs) but this was the first time he ever saw them the way they were intended. The effect on him was amazing.

Burt was the official record-keeper and he whipped out his tape measure. Jed's twenty-eight inches had gone to thirty, and had increased in girth by an inch as well. Having taken his measurements, Burt backed away and let Julie do her thing.

Her 'thing' consisted of holding Jed's cock in both hands like it was going to bite her and then slowly and with her eyes wide opened introducing the head to her mouth. She held it there for a while, assessing the danger, and when nothing changed except Jed's breathing (he sounded like a Yugo trying to climb a hill) she continued.

Burt took measurements again and while he couldn't judge the length (since a chunk of the end of it was rendered unavailable at the moment) he found that Jed's cock had thickened by another inch. Before retreating again he asked Jed how he was feeling, and all he got for a reply was a throaty grunt, which he interpreted as okay.

For the next few minutes Julie attempted to take in as much of it a she could. By relaxing her throat and breathing through her nose she was able to swallow a good foot right off the bat, and after realigning her body was able to take even more. In the best tradition of sword swallowers she eventually had over twenty-six inches inside her when she suddenly pulled away and gagged as the rope flopped free of her face.

"I thought he was gonna cum," she said. "Blow a hole in my stomach."

The boys reassured her that was unlikely to happen. Tom was pre-med, so his word carried some weight. Still, she was reluctant to try that again.

By this time Jed's dick was as close to full staff as it was likely to get. Burt measured again and it topped out at thirty-two inches in length and a good six inches around at midlength. Jed himself was feeling no ill effect of the stimulation. He lay there with a stupefied look on his face, and if the experiment had stopped then he would have been just as happy, having already experienced things he'd never felt before. It was far from over, however, and the situation escalated when Julie kicked off her sneakers and took off her jeans.

Jed had seen his sisters naked once or twice. All those people in one house with one bathroom and shower in it and such accidental encounters were bound to happen sooner or later, and more than once. But, again, seeing one's sister emerging dripping wet from behind the shower curtain is one thing, but having a stranger naked in your own bedroom (friends and cameras notwithstanding) was quite another, especially since she'd just been deep-throating your cock and assumably was prepared to do even more.

Julie wore a skimpy black thong beneath the jeans, and she removed that as well without hesitation. Her white ankle socks stayed on, however. Apparently in her mind so long as her feet were covered she wasn't really naked and thus the sex she was having was just that and in no way could be mistaken for making love, a distinction she held onto fast and hard in an attempt to justify all the fucking around she'd done.

"Now, don't expect miracles," she told the assembled crowd as she climbed on the bed with him.

Julie froze, unsure of how exactly to approach the problem. She straddled his knees and grabbed his dick, which had started to soften again but snapped back to attention as soon as her hands touched him. She moved in closer to his crotch but then found she'd have to bend him pretty much in half to get the head anywhere near her pussy (which Jed was fascinated to see had been shaved clean and pink as a newborn pig) and so she backed away again. Holding him tightly, she rubbed the head along her slit to get everything properly greased up, and then stuffed a few inches of him inside.

Jed just about melted into the sheets. Burt came over and tested his girth again and found it was stiffer but no bigger this time, and indeed even Julie noticed some significant resistance along the length of his mighty shaft. She lifted up and leaned back and then inched her way closer to him, taking even more of him inside.

Pussies, unfortunately, are not like throats and cannot be opened to access adjoining areas. The most she could take of him inside her was about fourteen inches, and even that grew uncomfortable after a while. Julie eventually found a length and rhythm she was happy with (Jed was ecstatic just being there) and set about taking the ride of her life.

Jed's breathing became erratic. Where before he had been a struggling Yugo inching uphill he was now an overloaded freight train following Hannibal across the Alps. His chest heaved and his back arched each time Julie stuffed him inside her, and half the time his eyes were closed and when they were opened they were unfocused. Burt took one more measurement and then stood back with the rest while Frank moved in to get a close-up of the inevitable outcome.

"I think he's ready," Tom opined.

Julie was sure of it. She could feel him pulsing inside her in a steadily increasing frequency, and the sensation brought her own climax to the brink of her ability to control it.

"In or out?" she asked Frank.

"Out," Frank said without hesitation. From a cinematic as well as scientific standpoint having that fuckstick explode out in the open was an unquestioned necessity.

"Just hold on one more minute, big guy," she told Jed, and then rode him to an explosive orgasm.

When she felt the cum rise in his shaft she pulled him out and held him in both hands, and pumped his now rock-hard cock for all she was worth.

Jed splattered cum all over her, and he made a terrible sound as if he was being turned inside out.

He splattered her again, and again, and every time she pulled back on his cock it sent another gusher her way.

Tom was the first to realize that Jed was no longer conscious.

The experiment came to a screeching halt.

But Jed's orgasm did not. Even with nobody anywhere near him his cock continued to pump gallons of giz all over himself and the bed.

Burt asked, "Should we call somebody?"

"Hazmat?" Cliff asked.

Julie got dressed quickly. Something told her things were souring rapidly and she wanted to be as far away from there as possible.

Jed's whole body shivered as one last gush of cum left his rapidly shrinking dick, and then all was still.

"He's not breathing," Frank said, having put his cameras away.

Julie left the room. Burt pulled out a cell phone and dialed 911. Tom, the pre-med student, started CPR immediately, although rather than perform chest compressions through a lake of cum he wound up pushing on Jed's throat which, if anything, proved counterproductive..

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