Finally, what everybody’s been asking for: More about the gang of the Razor-wire, courtesy of our esteemed Pervert Savant. Biff takes front and center this time. It’s her day off and we join her as she is preparing to paint the town Diesel Dyke red.

Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Lingerie on the Razor-Wire

by Pervert Savant

A Heartrending but Sadly True Account of a Young Transsexual’s Struggles within the Mesquite-Scented Den of Homoerotic Iniquity that Today Passes for the Texas Penal System.

Chapter IV: Cocktails with Lupita

Head Prison Guard Mary "Biff" McGurk smiled broadly at the face in her bathroom mirror. Biff had just finished liberally slathering that face with a double-dollop of her favorite scent — Mennen’s Skin Bracer. The resulting manly aroma on her beefy jowls complimented the bolo tie, plaid cowboy shirt, and rodeo boots that were Biff”s regular "go-into-town" garb. Yes, it was Saturday night — Biff’s night off from the prison.

"Yeah baby!" Biff yelped approvingly to her reflected visage. "Biffy’s gonna have a hot one tonight. Hormiga better look out, "cause this is one babe that’s gonna have some F-U-N!"

Hormiga, Texas — Biff’s intended destination on this particular Saturday evening — was a prairie oasis located approximately five miles from West Texas Correctional. It featured a small gas station, a tiny grocery, a smattering of rundown mobile homes, and "Rosa’s" — an erstwhile feed store that one Dagoberto "Rosa" Gutierrez had converted into an air-conditioned cantina and gay bar — the only one extant within the arid geographic confines of Suggs County, Texas. In addition to the gay bar — which was aptly called "Rosa’s“ — Rosa also owned the gas station, the grocery, and most of the mobile homes that littered Hormiga. Not surprisingly, Rosa was also Hormiga’s mayor and the top drag entertainer in her converted establishment.

Biff adjusted the turquoise-encrusted slide on her bolo tie and made sure that the unfiltered Camel cigarette she had placed over her protruding left ear was at its customary jaunty angle. Then she carefully fingered her Stetson, making sure its crown was perched on her pate just the way she liked it.

"Your lookin’ good, honey," Biff intoned to her image. "them lezzies at Rosa’s are gonna be losin’ their money when you start knockin’ them pool balls around tonight!"

Satisfied that she was ready, Biff seized the snakeskin carrying case that contained her cue stick and sauntered out, in her customary fashion, to her lime-green Volkswagen Beetle loudly singing the lyrics to Tennessee Ernie Fordâ’s "Sixteen Tons" into the warm night air.

"I got one arm o’ iron, the other o’ steel. If the right don’tt get ya, then the left one weeeeel."

Biff grinned happily to herself. And why shouldn’t she be happy? After all, wasn’t she Warden W. Lester McCobb’s Top Prison Guard? His "Numero Uno" as Biff liked to refer to herself. The Real Thing. The Big Kahuna. Wasn’t she the only prison guard at West Texas Correctional possessed of an Associates Degree in Modern Criminology? Wasn’t she the one that W. Lester McCobb relied on to keep the prison’s fiercest cons in line? Yes, Biff had a right to be happy. She was the envy of her peers, an American success story.

Biff slid her meaty haunches onto the driver’s seat of her VW and grunted approvingly when the vehicle’s engine answered to the turn of her key. She then expertly slipped the transmission out of neutral and into reverse, spun the tires raucously, and –“ after punching the radios buttons to her favorite Del Rio C & W station — set out once again on a familiar, tune-filled trek to Hormiga.

On arrival, Biff swung into her customary parking spot at the gas station across the street from Rosa’s. Emerging from the car, Biff could see that the weekend festivities at Rosa’s were already well-underway. Lupita LaLinda, a diminutive midget drag queen, was in the process of leading a conga-line of Rosa’s regulars out from the bar’s well-lighted entrance. The line was snaking around "Old Buck" — a large plaster statute of a Longhorn steer that Rosa had seen fit to festoon with Christmas tree lights. Old Buck was an advertising relic of the cantina’s glory days as a feed store and Rosa — always the opportunist — had artistically placed red and green lights on the noble bovine’s motionless form so as to spell out, in flashing letters, the name of her watering hole.

Biff snorted amiably as Lupita and the coterie of regulars circled the statue of the steer. "Dumb asses," Biff chuckled. "Hell, it’s only eight o’clock and Lupie’s already four sheets to the wind."

Biff’s appraisal of Lupita’s condition was not far off the mark. The tiny queen was attired in her Saturday night best — a minute cobalt blue, off the shoulder, sequined ensemble that Lupita had daringly accessorized with a peewee-sized feather boa and a matching set of platform heels — on which she was now pivoting none too steadily. The little Mexicanâ’s tiny mitts additionally clutched her customary beverage–a Mason-jar sized martini. Lupita was taking impressive swigs from the jar as she simultaneously steered her festive conga around Old Buck’s impassive backside. Inebriation was in the air. It was Saturday night in Hormiga.

Ignoring the tail of Lupita’s conga, and pool cue firmly in hand, Biff confidently strode into Rosa’s. And it was Rosa herself, from her customary position behind the bar, that was the first to greet Biff on her arrival.

"Hey! Lookie hoose heer! Eets Chon Wayne!" Rosa chortled loudly to no one in particular. "Yoo lookin’ reel good tonight keed-o! I kood smell that after-shave loshun yoo wear from feefty yards!"

Ignoring Rosa’s good-natured taunt, Biff swiveled her 230-pound frame onto a stool in front of the bar and growled: "Gimme a Tecate, you old pervert!"

"Hey, Chon Wayne he always dreenk weeksie. Wassa matta Sheriff, yoo seek or sometheeng?" Rosa responded.

Not waiting for a rejoinder from Biff, Rosa plunged her hand into a cooler and emerged with Biff’s requested quaff. Rosa was in her customary attire — a wide-skirted Mexican wedding dress, a jet-black wig that featured a large silver comb, and her ersatz coiffure crowned with a sweeping black-lace mantilla. Rosa was proud of her Mexican heritage and her get-up befitted her matronly station as the bar’s proprietor and Hormiga’s pre-eminent senior citizen.

Rosa handed Biff her beer and tried to maintain her banter over the noise of the drag-show that was underway on a small spotlighted stage to Biff’s rear. Biff decisively declined Rosa’s offer of a glass and took a pretentious swig of the beer from the tendered bottle. Rosa clucked disapprovingly:

"You donâ know who mighta be peesing on that beer fore yoo dreenk it, Sheriff. Yoo shood use a glass."

Rosa eyed the snake skin carrying case that Biff had placed on the bar and quickly put two and two together.

"Looks like yoo gonna play some pool tonight, eh honey?"

"You betcha, Rosa," Biff grinned, taking another defiant slurp from the beer. "An’ after I get through taking all those lezzies in your pool room for their paychecks, I’m gonna take some o’™ their tail too!"

"Well, buena suerte weeth that, Sheriff," Rosa sniffed skeptically.  "Yoo been comin’ een heer for tree years now an’ yoo ain’t peek up nada that I see."

Biff let Rosa’s rebuke to her social skills pass, opting instead to swivel around on her barstool to watch the show. The cantina’s featured entertainers, a motley group of Mexican queens known as "The Fabulous Cucarachas," had been attempting to lip-sync their way through an old Supremes’ number. The Cucarachas’ choreography, however, was being thrown into disarray by some of their admirers in the audience, who were tempting them with outstretched hands holding dollar bills. Seizing the moment, the prancing Cucarachas — one by one — had abandoned the stage and were now churning through the audience hell-bent on grabbing the proffered money. All the while, a grainy recording of "My Baby Love" continued to play –“ now somewhat pointlessly — in the background.

"Damn!" Biff muttered, eyeing the entertainers. "They look like a buncha zoo lizards in a feeding frenzy."

Bothered by Rosa’s observations about possible urination, Biff took a more-tentative swig of her Tecate. Detecting no untoward flavors, she then reached for her pool cue, and warily eyed the side alcove where Rosa kept her pool tables. Biff’s decision to adjourn to Rosa’s pool room, however, was abruptly interrupted, when Curtis McLurvey, a local gay rancher and an erstwhile member of Lupita’s conga-line, re-entered the bar suddenly and in an obviously agitated state.

"Rosa, you’d best come outside real quick-like. There’s sumpthin’ wrong with Lupita!"

Rosa immediately left her station behind the bar, adjusted her mantilla, and then followed McLurvey out into the street. Biff ambled along as well, together with the trio of Cucarachas and most of the bar’s other patrons. There, prone on the pavement outside and silhouetted in the blinking lights cast by the electrified statue of Old Buck, lay Lupita — rolling to and fro amid the shards of her broken Mason jar and moult from the tattered remains of her feather boa.

"What the hell’s wrong with her?" Biff queried, as the denizens of the cantina surrounded the midget queen on the pavement.

"I dunno, Biff," Curtis McLurvey responded. "She was havin’ a good ole time an’ all of a sudden-like she just started rollin’ aroun’ on the ground. Ya think she’s one o’ them eperleptics? Maybe she’s chokin’ on her tongue!"

"Could be," Biff propounded sagely. "That’d explain all that rollin’ around. It’s a damned sight sure she ain’t doin’ it cause she’s religious."  Biff took the opportunity to take a thoughtful swig from her beer, which she had presciently brought with her from the bar.

"I know one thing," Biff added. "If she’s havin’ herself an eperleptic fit, I wouldn’t go stickin’ none of my fingers in her mouth rootin’ aroun’ for her tongue. You do that an’ she’ll bite one o’ yer fingers off, sure as shit."

The concerned crowd continued to watch Lupita writhe about in the mammoth shadow of Old Buck. Her painted face now resembled the color of her dress and her spiked heels were kicking about in potentially lethal arcs, causing the onlookers to step away in the interest of safety.

"Shit, she’s kicking around like a dyin’ click-beetle," Biff observed to Curtis. "But I wouldn’t worry none. If she’s just havin’ herself an eperleptic fit, it orter die down soon. Them things don’t last long. She’ll prolly be all right in a little bit."  To reinforce her prognosis, Biff took the opportunity to light up a Camel.

"Well, she don”t look so good right now to me, Biff," Curtis noted.  "She’s turnin’ kinda blue-like. Mebbe it’s somethin’ else."

Biff took another swig of Tecate. "Hell, what do you know, Curtis. You deliver a couple of heifers on your farm and now you think you’re a doctor. I say it’s eperlepsy, just like you first thought."

While Biff and Curtis continued their medical speculations, Lupita’s frenetic spasms continued apace. The pint-sized drag queen’s convulsions had caused her to roll under the immobile torso of Old Buck, leaving a train of detached aquamarine sequins in her wake. The sequins shimmered eerily in the winkling red and green lights adorning the steer that intermittently flashed out "ROSA’S.".

“You blockheads! Can’t you see that she’s choking to death!" someone in the crowd shouted authoritatively.

Biff, disconcerted and wondering who the blockheads were that the voice mentioned, spun her head around in the night, looking for a glimpse of them.

Biff quickly discovered that the observation had come from none other than Cherie D’Amour, West Texas Correctional’s Prison Nurse, who had pushed her way through a gaggle of concerned Cucarachas and was now attempting to find a way to approach Lupita without being impaled on the midget’s slashing stilettos. The crowd parted accommodatingly as Cherie — in stilettos herself — eyed Lupita’s frenzied spasms, trying to time them in order to optimize her approach. Unfortunately, Lupita was in no mood to cooperate.

"This is all I need," Cherie groaned. "My one night off from the infirmary and I wind up having to give first aid to a dwarf version of Gloria Estefan."

"Yoo go goorl!" one of the Cucarachas agreed sympathetically.

Exasperated, Cherie took a last drag from her Virginia Slim and then threw the cigarette aside on the pavement.

"Desperate problems require desperate measures!" Cherie muttered.  If I wind up breaking a nail on this, Lupita’s going to be paying my technician for a whole new set!"

Grabbing Lupita’s feather boa — which was providentially still wrapped around the midget’s tiny neck — Cherie managed to pull the impersonator out from under Old Buck’s stationary underbelly. Then, ducking another kicking spasm from Lupita, Cherie extended a nyloned leg of her own and, with the tip of her shoe, carefully toed Lupita over onto her stomach. As Lupita’s kicks subsided, Cherie seized the gasping midget around her cinched in waist, pulled her to her feet, and began pushing her ample breasts against Lupita’s back — something that brought Biff to a state of rapt attention.

Unfortunately Cheri’s midget-appropriate Heimlich maneuver had no immediate effect on the choking Lupita. Seeing this, Cherie abandoned it in favor of an alternate methodology — pounding on Lupita’s back with the open palm of her splayed hand. Cherie then reverted to another Heimlich — this time with more telling results. Lupita, eyes bulging, and still gagging, suddenly ejected a large green cocktail olive from the inner depths of her lipsticked gullet.

The Cucarachas, watching the arc of the olive’s trajectory, gasped in unison. It looked to all like a sinister and ominous green eyeball as it eerily landed and rolled for a time along the concrete pavement.

The source of her malady thus exorcized, Lupita responded with a brief spasm of markedly unfashionable vomiting. This too seemed to aid the healing process. While Lupita still looked none to well, the previously bluish tint to her complexion visibly returned to its normal matte finish. Relieved and cooing words of encouragement, Rosa and one of the Cucarachas obligingly assisted the petite entertainer back into the cantina. Most of bar’s other s patrons followed suit.

For his part, Curtis McLurvey retrieved Cherie’s purse — an expensive Gucci clutch that Warden McCobb had bought her after a seminar in Waco — and dutifully handed it to the young nurse. McLurvey too returned to the bar, pausing only to taunt Biff with a final "I tole ya it might not be eperlepsy" before doing so.

Cherie, now alone with Biff, swiftly removed her compact from her purse and began inspecting the damage that her exertions with Lupita had wrought to her makeup.

"That was nice work that ya did there with that midget, sweetcheeks,"  Biff observed.   "You got in there just before I was gonna take action. Y’know, I had a semester of First Aid at Amarillo State Junior College an’ I could see the situation was gettin’ serious."

Cherie, engrossed in refreshing her lipstick, tried her best to ignore the beefy lesbian. She managed this quite nicely until, suddenly and surprisingly she felt a distinctive tingling on the upper part of her chest. Looking down quizzically from her compact, she noted that two of Biff’s outstretched and unmanicured fingers had tightly locked around the tip of her left nipple.

"C’mon, baby," Biff intoned. "Let’s you an’ me have us a drink"

***

GET TO KNOW PERVERT SAVANT

…with a little help from my friends. And they are simply marvelous.

Lawyer Guy: Well, he’s a caller, a buddy, a lawyer (of course)…and he sent me this very funny joke:

One afternoon a lawyer was riding in his limousine when he saw two men along the roadside eating grass. Disturbed, he ordered his driver to stop and he got out to investigate.

He asked one man, “Why are you eating grass?”

“We don’t have any money for food,” the poor man replied. “We have to eat grass.”

“Well, then, you can come with me to my house and I’ll feed you,” the lawyer said.

“But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are over there, under that tree.”

“Bring them along,” the lawyer replied. Turning to the other poor man he stated, “You come with us, also.”

The second man, in a pitiful voice then said, “But sir, I also have a wife and SIX children with me!”

“Bring them all, as well, ” the lawyer answered.

They all entered the car, which was no easy task, even for a car as large as the limousine was. Once underway, one of the poor fellows turned to the lawyer and said, “Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us with you.”

The lawyer replied, “Glad to do it. You’ll really love my place. The grass is almost a foot high.”

Gracie Passette & Entourage: Yeah, I had a birthday (8/15). And no wish list! Doesn’t every red-blooded PSO have a wish list? Not this one. I let this quietly slip by because I really didn’t want a big fuss, but Gracie begged, so I let her quietly announce it…thanks, Kittens! I actually spent the day at the hospital with my mother … she needed me more than my birthday cake did. And I received some very nice unexpected gifts and tips … thanks guys (you know who you are!)

Jeremy Edwards: You must remember Jeremy, AKA Jerotic? The fab writer who is oh so very naughty in all the right ways? I’ve written about him and featured his stories on more than one occasion….because, well, I like him a lot. He is a kind and generous friend to Zen Fetish, and I simply love having him stop by: To tell us the latest news, or share a randy little story, or even just for tea and crumpets. Not that I know what a crumpet is. But for Jeremy I would certainly comb the town and search every bakery until I found a crumpet or two or three.

As I’ve previously noted, Jeremy certainly gets around. And we all know the man has magic in each and every one of his dirty little fingertips. Oh, how I love those fingertips! It seems that Jeremy is making new friends over at a divinely inspired blog, Lust Bites (more about this later), where in a piece titled, Spouse-Sharing, Knicker-wetting, Flying Fucks, and Other Scenes of Amorous Tenderness, he asks and answers with elegant locution what turns out to be a not-so-rhetorical question of himself: Am I a “romantic?” Which, in turn, answers the question for all of us, Can kink and romance inhabit the same bed?

What do you think? Is he? Can they? If you’ve followed his work (and I have), you already know the answer. But it sure is fun having Jeremy spell it out with that same whimsical, sexy sweetness that permeates and percolates his erotic fiction. Hubba Hubba!

Sweat Shop Sissy: SSS is another Zen Fetish buddy, whose sweeter than sweet blog actually proves Jeremy’s contention that Kink and Romance can most definitely inhabit the same bed…and even thrive. Because Mr. Sissy Man is living it: An everyday working Joe who loves his wife and family deeply and just happen to wear panties…and it turns the Missus on! Ever so kind, he recently sent me this very funny link (be my guest, do click!) which proves that even men in lingerie LOVE BLOW JOBS!

Libby the Libertine: Speaking of Blow Jobs, Libby (of SexPros), who is a fellow columnist (I’m officially on hiatus, but not for long) at Sex Kitten, recently sucked the most famous cock in the world and possibly of all times? Surely I don’t need to tell you who this cock belonged to? Well…none other than Ron Jeremy, himself! Want all the juicy, naughty details? READ ALL ABOUT IT! I really love what Gracie had to say about this particular (mighty giddy…can you blame her?) confessional: Gawd, I luv you, Libby. Who else is gonna call me at 2 a.m. and say, “Guess whose dick I had in my mouth?” ROFL

Mistress V: Just a quick note here (I tend to go on when it comes to this lady. Aren’t you proud of the restraint I’m showing today?) Have you seen her Fetish Heat Video in which she publicly humiliates a sissy? Well, then, go there now. She is so damn hot! No “pretender to the throne,” this Fetish Mistress.

Lust Bites: I’m smitten. Accordingly, I’ve added this awesome blog to my links under Ethical Smut. A lot is happening over at Lust Bites (The blog on everyone’s lips.) It’s an upbeat hub of activity with a a gaggle (that’s a horde with attitude) of excellent regular writers discussing and opining on all things smut-O-licious…and tossing in a healthy dose of Brain Porn (that means you have to read with one hand and, well…do whatever with the other) for good measure. Plus Guest Bloggers! What a deal! And every inch of it is smart writing. Oh, and did I mention all the Freebies and Give-Aways?

Like I said…I get by with a little help from my friends.xo, Angela

...not by me, but Porno Person, who I adore for many reasons, one of which is his always creative and filthy mind:

The Spring Formal

When I showed up at Mr. & Mrs. Del Vecchio’s house the night of the Spring Formal, they seemed rather surprised to see me. I had been away at college for the last eight months but fully expected that the Del Vecchios would have known that I’d be by to pick up Vickie, their daughter, for the big dance. She and I had dated all throughout high school and I had promised her long ago that I’d take her to this dance when she was a senior, despite me graduating a year ahead of her.

Mrs. Del Vecchio disappeared upstairs for a bit while Mr. Del Vecchio regaled me with stories of cleaning his gutters. When Vickie came downstairs, she looked like something out of a storybook. She wore a long, yellow dress. Her hair was up with ringlets playing at the side of her beautiful face. She wore opera gloves with a corsage on her wrist. This gave me pause as I looked at the corsage I was holding in my hands for her.

Something seemed different about Vickie. When I left her in the spring, she still seemed like an innocent. This new Vickie had a harder edge about her. I could tell by the steely look in her eyes and the set of her jaw. She noticed the corsage and rolled her eyes ever-so-slightly before saying, “Looks like my ride is here. I was wondering if you’d show up. Otherwise, I’d be driving myself to the dance.”

Mrs. and Mr. Del Vecchio exchanged some awkward pleasantries with me before Vickie grabbed her wrap and started to leave. The Del Vecchios started for their camera but Vickie told them that she wasn’t in the mood for pictures. “Though, I will take your camera,” she said, liberating it from her mother.

Vickie stood by the door of my car, waiting for me to open the door for her, apparently. I did so, though she gave me a reproachful glare as if I hadn’t done it fast enough. She remained rather quiet despite my attempts at conversation and she outright refused to give me a hello kiss. It took a while before she was ready to talk.

“I wondered if you’d have the guts to show up,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re crazy or stupid or both.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. It was as if she had had a conversation with me sometime in the past that I couldn’t recall. She seemed like she was in such a bad mood, though, I didn’t want to set her off. I assumed that she had to be PMS-ing and knew that I was in for a long night.

***

Coming back to my old high school definitely felt strange. I was so this place. Yet, there I was with my old high school sweetheart and all of the other kids who were one year younger than me. But, there was someone else there that stood out like a sore thumb.

Standing up as we came in, he stood a little over six-feet tall and had the face of a man, not a boy. Something in the way he held himself betrayed that he was uncomfortable wearing a suit. He was smiling broadly when we walked in and I looked behind me to see if he was looking at someone back there. Rather, he held open his arms and Vickie ran to him, greeting him with a big hug and an open-mouthed kiss that took me aback.

I was stopped, dead in my tracks. I felt a hand on my elbow. It was Deana, Vickie’s best friend and coworker. I had always shared a mutual dislike with her. She led me over to Vickie and her, uh, friend. I was hoping for Deana to introduce this man as her own boyfriend.

“Mike,” Deanna said, her voice dripping with disdain, “this is Anthony.”

The big man offered me his hand and shook it firmly. He pulled me close to him during the handshake and said quietly, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m glad you showed up.”

Perplexed, Anthony took a seat with Vickie to one side and Deana to the other. The three of them were thick as thieves. I sat across from them at our little table and wondered what the hell was going on.

Anthony reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask which he used to freshen the girls’ drinks, along with his own. He tipped it toward me, to offer me whatever it was, but I declined. I had never seen Vickie or Deanna ever drink before; they had both been ardent members of S.A.D. (Students Against Drinking) when last I saw them. Now they were guzzling their spiked soft drinks and going back to Anthony for more.

Vickie was a little tipsy when she and Anthony left for the dance floor. It was so loud in the hall that I couldn’t hear anything that they said and now I strained to hear Deanna as she yelled across the table to me.

I only managed to hear snatches of what she said. I tried hard to catch everything but only came away with, “both of us,” “more than enough,” “a month after you left,” “finally satisfied,” and what sounded like, “truckload.” She leaned back after her tirade with a self-satisfied grin on her face. She looked like a lioness who had been batting around her food and now was enjoying the damage she had inflicted.

I felt absolutely helpless as I sat and watched Vickie and Anthony out on the dance floor. She was grinding against him and he was grinding right back in a lurid display. Even though she was dancing with another man, my feelings of lust overcame my sense of jealousy. Vickie had never been overly sexual with me. She was raised Catholic and always hesitant to go further than “first base” with me. I wheedled and whined enough to get a few hand jobs from her and even rubbed my finger along her vagina (only on the outside) The thing she loved to do, now that I thought about it, was grind up against me. She would give herself fabric burn from her jeans as she rubbed herself to orgasm against my leg in my parents’ basement.

I watched now as she ground her pelvis against Anthony and knew that she had gone much farther with him. There wasn’t a doubt. And, from what Deanna had said, it sounded like Anthony had gone as far with her as well. Deanna had once had a crush on me but I wasn’t able to reciprocate since I couldn’t stand her. Ever since then she had played the vicious flirt with me, always being inappropriate around anyone I was going out with. She had gotten her claws into Vickie shortly before I left for college and it looked like this new relationship with Anthony was her doing.

I don’t know why I didn’t just storm out of there. This was humiliating beyond measure. Yet, I was riveted. I don’t know if it was some kind of masochistic drive that kept me there but I needed to see what would happen and felt, somewhere, that this was all justified. I had left Vickie and Deana seemed to swoop in while I was away and turned her into… this.

When Anthony and Vickie returned to the table, they were both visibly winded and aroused. The lump in Anthony’s trousers was almost as big as the lump in my throat that I tried hard to swallow. “Let’s go,” Anthony said and the four of us left the hall. Vickie led us straight to my car.

“You drive,” Anthony told me. He and Vickie got into the back seat while Deanna sat next to me. Deanna started giving me directions. In my rear view mirror I watched as Anthony and Vickie started making out. Her hand went to the front of his trousers immediately and she began rubbing him through the material of his pants the way she used to do to me only months before.

What happened next had never happened between us. Vickie fished Anthony’s cock out of his pants, her hands still in her elbow-length gloves, before she hunched over to take it into her mouth. Deanna looked from that scene to my face before telling me that I should keep my eyes on the road at least half of the time. “Plus, there’ll be plenty of time to watch Vickie sucking on Anthony later.”

Without quite knowing where I was going (but somehow listening to where Deanna told me to turn), the four of us ended up at the luxurious Hilton Hotel near the convention center a few cities over. Anthony already had a room reserved, though I was the one who ended up putting it on my credit card as we checked in. While I waited for the clerk to process my paperwork, Deanna, Vickie, and Anthony stood nearby; his beefy arms around the pair of them as they whispered and laughed together. Vickie’s hair, still piled high on her head, had begun to come unraveled a bit, thanks to Anthony holding her mouth down over his cock in my backseat.

The threesome stayed as thick as thieves as we took the interminable elevator ride up to our suite. As soon as we entered, Anthony produced his flask again and filled two of the glasses atop the mini-bar for Deanna and Vickie. He dry swallowed a blue pill while the two gulped their drinks like the unsophisticated teens they were before Anthony told them, “All right girls, it’s show time.”

Without further provocation, they both fell to their knees, their formal dresses billowing out around them. Deanna and Vickie began kissing passionately in a flurry of hair, hands, and tongues. Soon their dresses were off of them and they were pressing their bare breasts together. Anthony was obviously enjoying the show as he reached into his pants and unleashed his aroused member. He began stroking himself with one hand, his flask in the other, as Vickie and Deanna topped onto their sides in a heap of Sybaritic passion.

I couldn’t help but get turned on, too, as I saw Deanna putting her hand under Vickie’s skirt and hearing my “date” squeal with delight.

“Oh, man. I’ve got to put my dick in one of you,” Anthony moaned as he stroked himself. “Get Vicki ready to fuck,” he told Deanna. Then he added, “Get him to help.”

Deanna lead Vicki to the room’s king-size bed and stripped her completely. I couldn’t think of a time before this that I had ever seen Vickie undressed all the way. She laid the tipsy Vickie onto the bed and helped Vickie hold her legs up high over her head. Addressing me, Deanna said, “Get over here and lick this whole for Anthony’s pole.”

A chance to lick Vickie’s pussy–no matter what the circumstances–was something I had always wanted. I kneeled between Vickie’s legs, Deanna next to me, and leaned over to taste Vickie’s pussy.

“No!” Deanna yelled and pushed my head away from Vickie. “You’re not to touch there! Vickie is a virgin and no one is to touch her there. You never got that, did you? You were always trying to get in there and that will never happen. That’s sacred. You need to lick,” she said, indicating the pink rosebud of Vickie’s anus. “This is the only place we enter her.”

I was hesitant to put my tongue anywhere near that spot and this showed as I slowly moved my head back down near to Vickie’s sex. As I stuck out the tip of my tongue, Deanna grabbed the back of my head and pushed me into Vickie’s tight anus. Vickie squealed again, and I realized that this was where Deanna had been playing a few minutes before.

“That’s it,” Deanna hissed in my ear. “Lick her good. This is the first time you’ve ever made her feel good. And do you know why you’re licking there? You’re getting her nice and ready for Anthony’s dick. He’s got a real man’s dick, not that little excuse that you have between your legs. Vickie told me all about it. She told me about all the times you tried to finger her and when you tried to get her to ‘kiss your penis,’” she guffawed. The hard-on in my pants was quickly shrinking, horrified by the idea of Vickie sharing any and all intimate details of our past with Deanna.

I continued to lick and lick. I could feel Vickie’s anus grasping at my tongue as she wriggled and cooed on the bed. I then felt Anthony’s presence on my other side and could see the shadow of his hand stroking his dick. I’d never been so close to another man’s penis and knowing that he would be putting it where I was licking… and in my “girlfriend”… was freaking me out. What disturbed me even more was the feel of Deanna’s hand loosening my belt and lowering my trousers.

“You need to get him away from there,” Anthony moaned. “Now!”

Deanna pulled me away in time for Anthony to push his cock into Vickie’s wet anus. She gasped and he grunted as he began pumping her tender tush full of him. I watched in fascination and horror as Anthony did what I only had done in my wildest masturbatory fantasies. Vickie mewled like a cat in heat, her painted nails clawing at his back as he thrust in and out of her.

Deanna held me tightly and from her breathing I could tell she was excited about what she was seeing. She reached down behind me and I felt a finger invade me. I tried to pull away but she wrapped her other arm around my neck and hissed, “Stay still!” She was choking me slightly as she pushed a finger inside of me. It hurt and I felt incredibly awkward with her doing this to me. She began pushing her finger in and out of me in time with Anthony’s thrusts into Vickie. I couldn’t believe, however, that I felt my penis getting hard again despite my horror and this whole scene.

As Anthony got closer to climax, Deanna seemed to insert another finger, and another, until it felt like I was about to be torn apart below. As she did this, Deanna whispered into my ear, “Yes… yes… look at how he fucks her. I love watching him take her. The only thing I like more is when he fucks me, too. When he goes back and forth between us, seeing how long he can go before he cums. And whenever I get his cum, Vickie cleans me out. Your ‘girlfriend’ has a talented tongue. Oh, here it is!”

As if on cue, Anthony’s body tensed and he emitted a low howl as his whole body began to shake. “Oh, shit!” he screamed as he emptied his load into Vickie. I felt Deanna’s fingers tense in time with Anthony, as if channeling his orgasm into me.

Anthony withdrew his cock from Vickie’s bum and took a seat in a nearby chair. He was breathing heavily and simply nodded at Deanna. “Now it’s time to earn your keep,” she said to me. She pulled her fingers out of my bottom and, oddly, I almost wanted them back in me. “Your job is to clean Vickie up,” she said as she pushed against my back. I fell to my hands (already on my knees) and crawled the remaining few inches to the bed where I kneeled and put my mouth near her now stretched-out anus. Anthony’s cum was spread across the entrance and slowly dripped down the tender slope of Vickie’s ass.

As I steeled myself before beginning my work, I watched Deanna crawl between Anthony’s legs and clean off his spunk-covered, still-hard cock with her tongue. His head lolled back as she licked from cock-head to balls and back again.

I could smell the strong scent of Anthony’s spunk before my nose even got close to Vickie’s asshole. It smelled like anchovies — like sea salt and something else. It tasted worse. I tried to suck in the spunk without tasting it but that was difficult. I slurped it into my mouth and swallowed as quickly as I could. The closer I got to Vickie’s asshole the warmer the spunk and the less-disgusting it was. I finally locked my lips over Vickie’s anus and began to suck. I couldn’t believe how much spunk Anthony had put into her. The harder I sucked, the more Vickie began to moan. Giving her pleasure was a unique side-benefit of this obscene task.

Vickie’s moans were suddenly muffled. Looking up, I watched Deanna continue to settle her vagina over Vickie’s mouth. Deanna caught me watching and yelled, “Get back to work!”

I went back to sucking and licking Vickie’s ass clean as Deanna rode my ‘girlfriend’s’ face. I thought back to how Vickie had been grossed out by the girl-on-girl scenes of Tony Scott’s THE HUNGER; and now she was bringing Deanna to a screaming orgasm. It didn’t take long for Deanna to climax, her body shuddering as Vickie got her off.

I felt a hand on the back of my head as Anthony pulled me away from Vickie and said, “Let’s see how you did.” He pushed a thick finger inside of her and examined it after he pulled it out. “Looks clean. Good job.” He patted my head like a dog before he moved up onto the bed to lay with Deanna and Vickie (who finally lowered her legs).

The tang of Anthony’s cum still filled my mouth. I sat on the floor as the three of them relaxed. Anthony off-handedly tweaked Vickie’s nipples as he asked, “Is this everything you wanted your Spring Formal to be?”

Vickie nodded vigorously. “This was perfect,” she said.

***

I sat patiently as the three of them kissed and cuddled. Eventually, Vickie got up and put her dress back on. Offhandedly, Deanna told me to get ready to leave.

Driving Vickie home, she didn’t say anything to me until we were just a few miles from her house. “I’m glad that you agreed to do this.”

“Agreed?” I said, my voice cracking. “What do you mean, ‘agreed’?!”

Haughtily she countered, “I described everything that you would be required to do in my letter.”

I gave her a blank look. “Letter?”

“The one I sent two weeks ago,” she chided.
She nodded.

“I was in Germany for the last month and came straight from the airport to your place after getting my tux,” I reminded her.

She sat, stunned, for several minutes. She looked out the window without saying anything, watching the lights of the houses we passed until we got to her parent’s place.

I got out of the car and opened her door for her.

After she got out, she stood in the moonlight, a queer look on her face. She reached up and kissed me, the taste of Deanna still on her lips. “You did a great job,” she said. “When you go back to school, read my letter and let me know what you think of my letter. If you agree to my terms, I think that there are a lot of fun things on the horizon… for both of us.”

I stood and watched her go inside before I started the long drive back to school. I wondered what door I had just entered and if I would be up to continuing down this path.

***

I don’t know about you, but I always like knowing where and how a writer comes up with their ideas. How much of the story is based on experience? Or did something totally unrelated set the story in motion? Lucky for us, PP later wrote about how he came to write this particular story, which you can read about here.

And I do hope you got a bit of wood when reading this story.

xo, Angela

A certain reader, who shall remain nameless (but not guiltless) and is squiggly-wiggly enamored with the “literate” in my professional phone sex site, Literate Smut, took it upon himself to erect a virtual-effigy to me and my websites, an alphabetical list of of naughty alliterations. Being a frustrated poet, I happen to like alliterations and so…here you go (with his side comments included):

amphisexual ass play
breast bucking & fucking
cunt cracking crescendo
dip-stick, drip-stick, dick-stick
erotic, exotic enema (sooo kinky)
freaky fetish fucking
gonzo glory hole guzzling (count me out on this one)
hot hole humping
illicit inseminations
jerk the johnson to jizz
kinky keister kisser
lickable luscious labia
male membrum e-rectum (i suffer from this often)
nimble-hipped nympho
orbital oral intercourse
pecker-pumping & dumping
quim-quenching quickie
randy-dandy rim job
sado-maso mischief
teasing temptress of tele-dick-tion (Our Angela)
urge the prick to purge
voluptuous scrumptious vulgarian
wacking the one-eyed weasel
x-rated extreme reaming
yanking the doodle dandy
Zeusophobic fem domme diva (the irony of it!)

Well…I must say it does my heart good to see my callers/readers stretching their little creative wings. And it always makes me smile.

xo, Angela

Pee Date

~an erotic short story by Jeremy Edwards

Just as he started to jiggle in his desk chair, his phone lit up. Tracy.

“Hi, Donny.”   She giggled.

“Hi.” His heart raced.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to do it.”

“Me too. Can you hold on for five minutes?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Tracy was a genius, thought Donny as he walked briskly across an array of quadrangles toward her dorm. They’d both needed to get a little bit of work done, on their own computers. It was her suggestion that they apply themselves to their homework until one, or both, had to pee. . . and that this would signal them to reunite in Tracy’s private bathroom and officially end the homework session in a ceremonious fashion, thereby inaugurating the recreational part of the evening.

He was holding himself by the time they bustled past the sink and tub, but he was looking forward to feeling his water continue to pulsate inside him while she went first. He gestured for her to go ahead, and Tracy grinned hungrily for him as she pulled her pants down.

***

Well that’s our Jerotic, AKA Jeromy Edwards: Always up to some sort of naughtiness or other.

If the above bit of joyful ribaldry twists your shorts or panties into a knot, be sure to check out our Zen-friendly bad boy at his MySpace Corner, where you can catch up on all the latest. Just don’t expect to find Jerotic, himself, there, because he is too busy making a big name for himself all over the place:

Parlez vous Francais?

Real Estate “Tour Group”

One of the Gang

With Adrienne

A Dinner Party

An Adult Book Store! (blush)

The Art Gallery

Almost all of those links represents a FREE erotic story, so read and masturbate to your heart’s content!

He’s really good at this, isn’t he?

xo, Angela