Livin'In the Country
Another Prologue
Looks as if I am about to escape with a whole skin from the land of smog
and other abnormalities. My new destination has a much lower density of
available pussy, but it does appear to be fresher in the sense that folks there
seem to care more about a person's innards than the projected persona that
seemed to be a requirement to get decent pussy in the old place. It is also
definitely true that the new home of old Jethro has a decidedly freer outlook on
all things including one's right to privacy. Now if I can only survive the rainy
winter that this place usually features.
I would imagine that most of the readers are not here to listen to me
run my mouth about things that are of little interest to them. In that spirit I
will pick up from where I left off, which was with some woman's hand on my
scrotum and my development of some serious wood from her presence.
Chapter 8
I found myself preoccupied by this growing manifestation of my sexual
interest in this rather large young woman who was intruding upon my space, such
as it was. I immediately detected the aroma of marinating pussy, a scent I was
familiar with. It took me but a moment to realize that it was wafting up from
beneath that beer gut shelf guarding the entrance to her best feature. My eyes
shifted upwards to enjoy the sight of her mammoth mammary glands rising and
falling, with each movement an adventure as I awaited the sight of those beach
balls breaking free of their moorings and popping out for all to see. I began to
sweat profusely, and it had nothing to do with the weather. This woman was
emitting pheromones, and I was responding. In case you don't know what they are,
the next time you see some fireflies wandering around blinking their headlights,
that's sort of what was happening between her and me. It's those damned
pheromones; funny that the French didn't come up with a name for that stuff
first.
Taking the bull or was it the cow, by the horns, I confessed that I
hadn't caught her name last night. May, that was her name, gave me a grin that
meant my goose had just avoided becoming cooked and said she was not surprised
seeing as how she and I were rather wrapped up in our business and needed to
focus all our attention on making sure it was done properly. Now that's not
exactly how she said it. Her words were quite direct and a bit more colorful,
which is something that can be a curse or a blessing in a woman. I guess it
depends on how long you and she have been going along together and how well the
going-together has been.
Being the devious type I first attempted to smoke her out on the subject
of open marriage, such as was the relationship between Rhonda and I. She
wrinkled her pug nose, I like those kind, and replied that the question had no
meaning since she was not married. I then placed my foot squarely in my mouth
and mentioned the fact that I had seen her and some stud involved with my loving
wife prior to the meeting between the three of us later on that evening. She
flashed me a glance that cut deep. Damn these women, even their looks can do
some serious damage to a man's "self esteem" to use a phrase that is bandied
about by a whole lot of folks these days.
She then proceeded to explain to me in words of one syllable, or so it
seemed, that the stud in question was the husband of somebody attending my
clambake. She, in turn, was here in the company of her widowed mother who I
figured was probably one of those senior ladies slaving away in the kitchen. I
ran my memory in reverse in an attempt to figure which one it might be.
Unfortunately I could not associate any face with those ladies who possessed
generously sized breasts, not surprising considering my state at the time. My
pecker had begun to lose its starch as her words fell like bricks upon my head.
I silently cursed myself for being an old fool and began to prepare my exit
strategy, another buzz word phrase that I have become enamored with.
I was so busy plotting and scheming to escape with my dignity intact
that I nearly jumped out of my skin when she came close and whispered in my ear,
"Your wife seems kind of busy. Why don't you and I take a little walk and find
some place where we can fuck in peace." I do not recall being led from the yard
by my dick, but that would not have come as any surprise in my dazed condition.
I was being carried away to the promised land, so it seemed. There were a few
people who were kind of scandalized that I would desert my dear wife in her hour
of need. To them all I can say is that those dogs seemed to be doing a damned
good job occupying her attention and fulfilling her needs. I was superfluous; by
the way that's a French word too.
We returned to where the morning had begun for both of us, only this
time we were wide awake and rarin' to go. I watched her jiggle and wiggle out of
those two tiny pieces of stretchy fabric revealing completely a set of jugs made
for sucking, squeezing, nibbling, nuzzling, not to mention biting, bouncing,
hefting and handling, plus the ever popular tit fucking. There can be no doubt
that daylight is a much better time to survey the type of physical ripeness she
displayed. Last night, in the darkness, I might have judged this paragon of
plumpness, who had some of the most marvelous nooks and crannies a man ever had
the delight to behold, as perhaps a tad above average based on touch alone. It
would have been akin to the seven blind men and the elephant. This is not to say
that May in any way would remind any sighted man of that lumbering beast of the
jungle.
"That was a pretty good workout you gave my pussy last night. For an old
guy you can still bring it pretty good, I like that in a man. Now please don't
disappoint me like so many of your kind have in the past." As she challenged me,
her hands had wandered down to that smooth, fat-lipped pussy that was hiding out
beneath her belly and began spreading and kneading her best feature. Under
normal conditions I would have mounted a direct frontal assault on her position,
seeking to overwhelm it with superior force. However being somewhat older, and
gifted with guile that has ably assisted me in surviving in the world of the
untamed pussy, I took a more round-about method of breaching her defenses.
At my request she spread herself out on the bed and eyeballed me through
the valley between those magnificent, mouth-watering mounds as I stretched out
between her delightful thighs and pressed forward to capture that meaty pussy
with my mouth. The desire and ability to eat pussy will serve any man well
despite his physical, moral and mental faults and failings. If there is anything
in our limited arsenal that is effective in allowing us to survive in a world
ruled by members of the other sex, it is this skill. Unfortunately among the
race of men this is not something that is openly spoken of except among the more
sophisticated members of the tribe. It is not a skill passed from one generation
to the other; fathers don't usually discuss this art form with their sons.
Rather it is one of those arcane pieces of knowledge that seems to randomly
strike a few of us as truth and a way to the pussy. I do believe that our
Chinese friends call this "tao" or some such unpronounceable word.
The old saw about "practice makes perfect" is most appropriate when it
comes to eating pussy. I became a practioner of the art at a very early age
thanks to the efforts of my older sister who devoted countless hours to my
training. I was taught about those special places that a lady finds most
enticing when someone is lapping away on her genitals. I learned to understand
the language of the pussy; what its movements meant, when it was happy, when it
was not. I discovered as my experience increased and my thoughtful sister added
fresh pussy to the mix, that no two pussies are alike despite statements to the
contrary from those who have never gotten closer than five feet from one of
those mysterious grottos. I have eaten enough pussy to understand that if I
could live for a thousand more years I would still know very little about this
delightful organ from which all men arrived.
May's pussy had a funky aroma and a tart-sweet taste with a hint of
earth and greenery to paraphrase one of those folk who writes wine reviews. It
was still far from its peak with respect to texture and finish, but the youthful
combination of fresh flesh and delicate but memorable hints of maturity and body
was enough to satify even the most critical palate. Cutting to the chase, it was
damned fine pussy and there was no way a sane man could get enough of this
juicy, tasty muskmelon that was ripening between her thighs. I proceeded to make
a pig of myself.
This young woman was most forgiving of my bad manners. Perhaps my
enthusiasm for her sweetest spot overcame the rough way in which I attempted to
pleasure it. All I can remember was that she gently grabbed me by the ears and
used them the same way one would handle the reins on a fractious horse or other
dumb animal. Despite the fact that she used only a few words such as "deeper,
more tongue, faster, slower and the dreaded, not there", her adept handling of
the reins had me moving over areas that were new to me, and evidently most
pleasant to her. I could probably go on about this magical first contact between
my tongue and her pussy, but there are not enough words in a French dictionary
to describe the plethora of sensations and emotions that were induced by this
young lady's enchanting garden of delights.
When I finally came up for air, my face coated with a sheen of sweat and
her precious essences, she announced that it was time we went riding and this
time she was gonna really put the spurs to me. Since I had not had my normal
morning release of semen yet, I looked forward to this little ride in the park
with a great deal of excitement. She patted the bed next to her and rolled on
her side to let me get into position. As I mentioned previously my favorite
position is one in which my partner does most of the work; this was not to be.
She climbed on board and dug her heels into my sides and grinned down at me. I
could feel her stomach pressing my body into the mattress, making it difficult
to get a good toehold. Moreover when she planted her tits squarely on my face I
knew it was going to be a very long morning. Let me tell you, it was no ride in
the park. We went through brush, streams, up switchbacks and down into deep
gullies, all at top speed.
I thrust and she gave grudgingly, an inch at a time. When I was finally
seated she rose up, took a deep breath and started grinding away, her big tits
bouncing off my face. Those bags were big enough and firm enough to do damage. I
began to fear for my safety as she kicked me into another gear, her beefy body
moving like she was on ball bearings. I began to huff and puff and she laughed
at my struggles to keep myself properly situated. I closed my eyes and thought
good thoughts as she wore me down to the nub. I got both hands on that awesome
backside and squeezed those hams as hard as I could to communicate the fact that
I was on the verge of becoming unconscious. By then we had both worked up a good
lather due to the lack of any form of air conditioning in the room. I could feel
beads of sweat, not perspiration, dripping off those great tits and splashing
down onto my face. She nearly had me pinned by then and I began to be concerned
that my muscles would fail me before I could launch the millions upon millions
of mindless sperm that would blindly seek the holy grail. At that very moment
she took to sneezing, one good one after another, the sign of an allergy attack.
I was to be saved. In truth this was a case of deus ex machina, compliments of
mother nature herself. May's concentration now disturbed, I sneakily wedged
myself into a slightly better stance and used the leverage to successfully
launch my payload. By then she was too busy trying to breathe to even notice
that the deed had been done. Ever the gentleman, I grew quiet and hung on for
dear life as she finally overcame whatever had been tormenting her.
May gave me a big smile and deliberately bounced her tits off my face
one more time. I sighed and started to lick the beads of sweat off those
beauties. "That was pretty good all things considered." May said in a soft voice
as she used her cunt muscles to give my cock a gentle squeeze to acknowdedge its
presence. I gave her my best little boy smile and sucked her nipples.
"You do know what you're doing most of the time, but you could still
stand a few more lessons when it comes to eating this girl's box and you
definitely need to get into better shape if you and I are ever going to do some
serious fucking. I presume your wife would have no objections if I came over
now and then to give you some pointers and check out your physical
conditioning."
Her words were music to my ears. Then it dawned on me that poor Rhonda
was out there all alone standing off a pack of sex crazed dogs while I was in
bed with this bundle of prime grade fuckmeat. It was almost enough to make a man
feel guilty. The operative word in that last statement is "almost". One thing I
learned very early in life was that a stiff dick has no conscience.
Emboldened by the fact that I had passed my preliminary exams, I
escorted my teacher out to where my sweaty wife was handling a pair of four
legged-fuckers for the second time. A few people gave me some funny looks,
probably jealous of my good fortune. Someone told me that Rhonda was only one
more set of dogs away from doing the pack twice, an impressive feat considering
the heat and her inabilty to move very much while they were doing her. I am not
at all sure that she was aware of the fact that I had strayed a bit with her
friend from last night. I truly doubt that she was in any condition to even care
much about my latest foray into the wild and wonderful world of the willing
female. It was then that Ms. Marlowe and her little charges made their
appearance.
The school teacher seemed none the worse for the lengthy "ordeal" of
having her private parts pounded to pulp by a group of acne afflicted teens.
Like most of the folks in attendance she chose to wear her birthday suit which
was in need of some ironing to take out the wrinkles in a few places. There was
a stream of milky fluid issuing from her nether regions, back and front. I also
could observe that her droopy tits had some fresh markings that could only have
been the result of rough or careless handling on the part of her partners in
lust. Her sagging bottom was even more impressively decorated with areas of
various hues ranging from red to blue-black. I could even make out the imprint
of a hand on one of her pebbled cheeks. It had been applied with considerable
force and more than a few times to create the depth of color that had been
produced. I began to muse that possibly this dominant, aggressive molder of
minds had a softer, more submissive side. I'd have to inquire about this matter
to my "son", Jack.
The last pair of dogs was just finishing up in Rhonda, and much of the
audience had peeled off to engage in some final exercises of free speech and
their right to peacefully assemble with a sexual partner of their choice. To my
utter amazement a line of males had formed to take a last crack at impregnating
little Connie. The sweet young thing was on one of the benches with her knees
resting beside her ears, and she was being hammered like no body's business by
this rather large gentleman with a penis that was of truly impressive length and
girth. It took me some time to identify Chief Vlad, who was without his hat,
holster and the 357 Magnum it contained. I suddenly realized that my little get
together had been infiltrated by the forces of law and order. It then became
apparent to me that they too were interested in exercising their right to
freedom of speech and expression.
Just before I claimed the worn out body of my dear wife from the master
of the hounds, a number of the kitchen ladies who had taken off with Marty began
to drift back into the yard. It seems that his spirit had been very willing, but
his body could not measure up to the pressures that the gaggle of grannies
applied to his scrawny frame. He had been spanked until his poor ass was nearly
twice its original size and about fit to burst. These ladies had not gotten to
this stage in their lives by doing things that were less than intelligent. They
had liberated a variety of kitchen implements which they used in lieu of their
palms to make Marty understand how distressed they were about his deportment.
In a kind of warped form of poetic justice they had dragged his sorry
shape into the sauna and began to abuse him sexually as his body gave up its
liquid contents to the hot, dry air and the demanding pussies that suctioned the
seed from him. Currently only the hard core ladies remained and they were doing
some terrible things to his needle dick which had long since given up its
rigidity. This was the kind of gossip that I did not need to hear at this point.
However I do promise a more definitive description of Marty's punishments in a
later segment of this lengthening tale.
As luck would have it, one of the kitchen ladies spotted May and headed
in her direction. This woman had a most impressive chest and I also noticed that
she too had a shaved snatch. Just before she greeted my companion I realized I
was looking at May's momma in the flesh, and there was sure plenty of it. My
devious side immediately began working on a scheme that would result in May and
her momma doing yours truly in a variety of interesting and entertaining
configurations. May introduced me as a new friend she had made and from the look
I got from mom she was quickly sizing me up for future use. Being old and wily I
can figure these kinds of things out pretty fast. Her name was Mabel and she
mentioned she had been twice widowed, May being the last product of her second
marriage, a change of life baby who had turned out well. My charming companion
tittered, if I dare use that word, and remarked that, " Momma put both of them
under the ground by fucking them silly every chance she got. I intend to follow
in her foot steps if ever I find a man that can measure up to my standards." It
seems I had already been found wanting as a potential husband, which was fine
with me unless Rhonda had a seizure and keeled over dead.
I made my excuses and detached myself from May and Mabel, heading for
what was left of Rhonda. By now the handler had retrieved the padding and mask
she wore, revealing a modicum of bruises and scratches that she had accumulated
during her time in the dog run. Rhonda's lips looked like they were on steroids
as a result of numerous collisions with the excited canines. She was unable to
speak, and could barely mumble, her only method of verbal communication for the
better part of a day.
As I half carried my thoroughly dog-fucked wife back to her room I was
intercepted by Mimi Marlowe, who, close-up, smelled like a whore house bathroom
as the result of her dalliance with those oversexed teens. It seems her sources
had informed her of the existence of a rather battered Marty and his lovely
wife, the fragile and currently unconscious, Marie. For reasons that she did not
wish to share with me, Ms. Marlowe wanted to take custody of the pair for an
indeterminate period of time. In exchange, she offered me the opportunity to
baby sit the Tolliver twins, Terri and Traci, for the next four weekends, no
questions asked, and no holes barred.
You talk about an offer you couldn't resist, this in truth was it! These
14 year old blondes were well known to be Ms. Marlowe's private stock and had
been so for the last year. The girls were flat out beautiful and already sported
sets of 36C tits, tapering down to waists that were rumored to measure no more
than 21 inches around, then flared out to hips that had been actually measured
to be 34 inches in circumference. They had been gifted with heart shaped asses
that appeared to be mounted on ball bearings as they sidled by leaving a scent
of musky fragrance in their wake. These were two dick stiffening, heart
stopping, marriage ruining, wet dreams that were ripe and ready. Then to top it
off they went both ways, compliments of the advanced training given them by the
aforementioned Ms. Marlowe. Now these two paragons of youthful sexuality were
about to be dropped into my lap, so to speak. They would come equipped with a
one word vocabulary, "yes", and there would be no questions asked provided they
were returned in a condition that would allow their pristine perfection to be
restored in a reasonable amount of time. This was the proverbial "no brainer"
and I nearly dislocated my neck accepting the trade she offered.
It appears that my printer is running out of ink and I don't presently
have the wherewithal to fork over in excess of 40 dollars, American, to replace
it. So until such time as the god of ink jets smiles down upon me, this will
have to suffice.
