The girls knelt down and started to work on the men, Carly took Chris in her mouth and Mike in her hand while Emma did the same with Ian and Ryan. The girls being professionals were happy to alternate between their chosen men.
Emma eventually broke off from sucking these cocks, "I want one of you to fuck me, now!"
Ian did as he was told, Emma got down on all fours and offered herself to him. Before he entered her he ran his tongue down the length of her slit, she was very wet. He concentrated on her clit for a good while which made her groan with joy. Ian then licked back up her slit and arrived at her arsehole. It was so exposed and welcoming that Ian couldn't resist it. He pressed his tongue against her tight anus, gently entering her.
Carly was now laying back on the sofa, completely naked. Mike was now between her legs with his face buried in her soaking pussy. She had her eyes closed and was pulling Mike into her by his hair. Mike inserted a finger into her and began to massage her G-spot. This pushed Carly over the edge making her come violently. Steve had caught all of this on camera, his flushed wife giving him a smile when she opened her eyes.
Emma was now being roasted by Ian and Ryan, Ian fucked her hard from behind while she sucked Ryan's huge cock. After a few minutes the lads swapped. Emma gasped as Ryan slipped his huge 8" cock into her, he locked her lips around Ian's length, sucking her own juices off of his cock. Ryan was pounding into Emma now, she could barely even suck Ian's cock now, she was screaming now. Ryan waved Steve over, once he had them in focus Ryan withdrew and shot his hot spunk over Emma. The first bolt landed between her shoulder blades, the second on the small of her back while the rest oozed out over her arse, some dripping down her arsehole to her slit.
Steve soon turned back to Carly. She was laid back in the sofa with her legs wide apart, Chris was fucking her hard. She had Mike leaning on the back of the sofa presenting his cock for her to suck.
"Get your cock out Steve," she told him, "I want you to get involved too."
Steve did as he was told, putting the camera down to undress. He joined the 3 and let Carly suck him. She gave him a wet, sloppy blowjob all the while looking directly into the camera as he pointed down at her.
"I'm coming." Chris finally announced, pulling his cock out of Carly.
He shot his semen over her stomach and mound, soaking her in his hot juice. Carly gave him a smile and instructed Mike to fuck her. He needed no encouragement and soon thrust his cock into her. Carly' oral efforts meant that Mike couldn't hold out too long. Mike withdrew and brought his cock up to Carly's face. He shot the first couple of bolts over Carly's face, the rest of his huge load went over her neck and tits. Steve was now desperate to fuck his wife so handed the camera to Chris. In the same position he thrust his length into his come covered wife. Like the other men Steve was soon coming, he pulled out and aimed his load over her tits and stomach.
Carly was now in a complete mess but Steve insisted on bringing her to another orgasm with his tongue before he allowed her to get up.
Emma was laid back on the other sofa also covered in semen. Ian had exploded a huge load all over her face and hair.
"Ladies, you look like you could do with a shower." Steve announced.
Carly knew immediately what kind of shower he meant! Emma soon caught on but the other lads were slow to catch on.
Carly lead them all to the bathroom upstairs. "Now you boys do know what kind of shower we want don't you?" she said with a dirty smile.
"Do you mean you want us to piss over you?" Ryan asked, almost amazed.
"You're finally catching on!" she replied. "Have you never pissed on a girl before then?"
"No," he said, "I've never even dared to ask a girl that." he said.
"You go first then." she told him.
The girls knelt down in the bath. After a few seconds his warm jet started to flow all over Carly's tits. She cupped her hands and rubbed it all over herself. Chris had started to pee over Emma now, again aiming his stream over her pert tits. Mike then followed suit, spraying her tits and aiming the odd jet or two over her face. Ian and Steve then lined up either side over Carly and let go. Both girls were absolutely soaked but happy with themselves.
The boys then retired to the living room again for more beer while Carly and Emma had a proper shower. While there they were in they shared a lingering kiss, this lead to hands exploring each others wet curves.
"Shall we take this downstairs for the boys to watch?" Emma suggested.
Carly and Emma dried off and made their way downstairs, still stark naked. Emma laid back on the carpet and pulled Carly down on top of her. They kissed deeply while feeling each others breasts. Carly then started to feel between Emma's legs, then began to kiss her way down Emma's stomach on the way to her pussy.
Spreading Emma's legs, ICarly planted tender, teasing kisses on her thighs and lower stomach before plunging her face into her slit. Emma shook with delight. Within seconds she started to buck violently, she came a hard as she had ever done, her juices leaking out over Carly's face.
Carly then straddled Emma's face in a 69 position. The girls lovingly licked each other, their moans of pleasure filling the room. Emma then started to massage Carly's juices into her arsehole before slipping her finger in. Carly returned the compliment and did exactly the same to Emma.
The lad by this time were extremely hard again. Steve had once again been catching all of this on camera. Carly eventually broke off from licking Emma.
"So who wants to fuck our arses first?" she said.
Ian was first to step up. Carly let Emma up and got onto all fours, sticking her bum up in the air. Her tight anus was exposed to him and looked welcoming. With a bit of lubricant, Ian slowly edged his cock into Carly's arse. She slowly started to open up as he edged into her. Emma presented Chris with exacty the same view which he swiftly took advantage of.
After a couple of minutes, Steve told the lads to swap places allowing Mike and Ryan to anally penetrate the girls.
"Now I want you to double penetrate them." Steve ordered, he was enjoying playing at being a porn director for the night.
The girls both sat astride a cock, leant forward and offered their arses to the lads. They slid in to the girls now well stretched holes. He noise was immense, Carly was moaning as load as ever while Emma screamed obscenities at the men, telling them to fuck her like the whore she was.
This went on for a good 5 minutes until Carly told the boys to stop. She was now getting too sore an couldn't take anymore.
"I want all of you to come in my arse." screamed Emma. "Come on, empty your spunk into me.
Emma moved from the DP back onto all fours. Carly parted her cheeks and rimmed her again while the lads wanked. Steve again passed the camera to Mike and prepared to fuck Emma. Carly gave his cock a quick suck before he plunged his cock deep into her arse. Emma screamed as Steve hammered his cock into her arse. Steve fucked her hard for the next 5 minutes making Emma scream more obscenities at him. With one final push, he tensed up and sent his load deep inside her anus.
Ryan soon stepped up to take his place, thrusting his cock into her as hard as he could. Ryan only lasted a minute before losing his load in Emma's now overflowing bum hole.
Chris was next, much like Ryan lasting only a minute before spewing his load into Emma. Mike now moved I'm for a close up as the cum dripped out of Emma.
Ian soon plunged himself deep into Emma, building up speed as he went. He pulled Emma's hair, telling her what a dirty whore she was and how he was going to split her in two. Emma was lapping it up and urging him on. He felt him tense up and knew he was sending another load deep inside her.
Mike handed the camera back to Steve and stepped up to fuck Emma's now battered arsehole. He pumped away as hard as he could just as she was screaming at him to do. Finally with one last shout, Mike sent his seed deep into Emma. She collapsed once he withdrew feeling thoroughly used and exhausted. She had the cum of 5 men leaking out of her just as she had wanted.
The next morning, the 7 of them made polite conversation over bacon sandwiches, all suffering with horrible hangovers. Before they went, Ian and Emma exchanged phone numbers, Carly raised her eyebrows and smiled at this. Maybe Emma had finally met a bloke who was man enough to tame her.
The lads left in taxi's leaving the tired hosts to go back to bed. Steve would put on the first screening of his home movie that night, who knows what else that would lead to....
The End.
Looking For Love and Foucault
"Remember, you have type 3 hair, so promise me you'll use a good conditioner, and don't borrow some other girl's," she said.
"Okay, Mother, you can leave now, my hair and I will be fine."
"And sweetie, the most important part of this year is rush. So start researching the sororities early, and focus on a few superior ones that you think you really have a good shot at."
"Yes, Mama--"
"And don't fall into the habit of snacking. The 'freshman 15' has doomed more girls' chances of getting that M.R.S. than drugs or getting you-know-what."
"Okay, Mama! You can go--"
"My little girl, gone to college--" she started to tear up.
"Not here, Mother!" I said, getting more formal again.
"Right," she said, and pulled herself together. Years of competition-- she had been Miss Low-Till Farming in 1977 and Miss Soybean in 1978, and I had been Miss Cledmore County and come in third at the state finals last year-- meant that she knew how to conquer her emotions and put on a brave face. "Have a wonderful time and find a wonderful boy, preferably pre-med or business school," she said, kissed me on the cheek, and then there was just the clacking of her heels down the hallway.
I looked around my private room-- Mother had insisted on paying for one, she was very concerned that I not end up with a roommate who might stand in the way of landing the right husband. Well, considering how well she had done with Daddy, and Stepdaddy Jim, and Stepdaddy Brad, she could afford to give her little girl the very best. It didn't entirely have Mother's personal touch-- she hadn't had time to paint it dusty rose-- but it did look like a flower factory had exploded in here. That was her style, for sure.
I unpacked some things and thought back, a little nostalgically, on my last few days in Croweville before moving up here to the university in Sparta. My last date with Trent had gone badly. He knew he was being dumped, that Mother wanted me to find someone more collegiate than a guy who was likely to work in his dad's body shop the rest of his life, so he tried to finally get me to do it with him.
I got out of it, as usual, by giving him a BJ-- Mother had taught me early on that there were ways to keep a boy happy without risking a baby-- but as I worked on his thick, bumpy, stinky little pole until he splattered his goo onto the Kleenex I kept handy, I couldn't help but think that this was a pretty high price to pay just for having a boyfriend to go places with once in a while. Would sex with the future doctor husband of Mother's dreams be any more satisfying? Or would it just be the price I paid for the house and the cars and the trips, too?
That night, as I lay in bed on my first night away from home, I thought about the path Mother had laid out for me-- for the first time, or at least it seemed like the first time. It was so simple, and it had worked for her so well, that I had never questioned it-- find the first husband, if things didn't work out encourage him to have a fling by cutting him off in the bedroom, then catch him in the act, big settlement, find next husband, repeat as often as necessary. It sounded like a great plan, except for one thing-- what about love?
Where did love fit into it? Where did finding your soulmate and growing old together come into it? Mother had nobody but me now, and now I was gone from her house, at least, if hardly her control. Was that how I saw myself, 20 years or so from today-- sending my girl off to college and coming home to a big, admittedly very big and nice, but empty home?
Suddenly college was making me very sad, and scared.
* * *
The social life in a dorm is so busy in the first few weeks that I had no trouble meeting lots of boys. But there were so many of them and they were so much the same-- all bony elbows and pawing-- that I think my doubts started to show. I heard a couple of stray comments about "boring" or "stuck up" or "doesn't seem interested." And you know what, they were right. I was just kind of freaked out by the whole thing-- that I was supposed to look over all these young stud bulls and decide which one had the best earning potential for me, and then rope him and brand him. ("Ring by spring...")
Meanwhile, I was kind of getting into the school part of college, believe it or not. High school work had always been easy for me, but for the first time I had professors who weren't just teaching to the dumbest kids in the class but actually forcing me to think, analyze things, use my head. Mother had always warned me about seeming too smart, that that rarely helped a girl get a man, but suddenly, smartness didn't seem such a liability, even if it was a surprise for them sometimes to hear something bright come out of a tall blonde with good beauty habits.
So I kind of let my participation in the social part slide and focused on my classes for a bit, as much as that would have disappointed Mother. We talked every day and I could tell she was getting a little frustrated at how vague my answers were about who I was seeing, and what social events I was planning to attend in the next week.
One afternoon I went to the campus bookstore in search of books by an author one of my professors had been talking about, that sounded like it had some interesting things to say about sex. I only knew how the name was pronounced, not how it was spelled, and I wasn't having much luck finding the author on the shelf, so I tried to find somebody who could help me. The first guy was helping another customer, so I kept wandering in search of someone who could help and soon found myself in the kids' section.
Then I saw her.
What was it about her that struck me so? It certainly wasn't beauty. She was overweight and, at that moment, displaying an ample crack in the back of her jeans as she sat on the floor, shelving a stack of picture books. It wasn't style-- she had wildly unkempt black curly hair, black hornrim glasses and no makeup, all of which gave her a certain boyish look.
No, what wowed me was that she seemed free. Free of all the things I'd come to school with-- the need to dress up like every day was a job interview (which, to Mother's mind, it was), to impress boys, to be somebody I didn't know if I wanted to be.
She looked up at me. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a book on a French philosopher-- it's something like Fooko or Fuckall--"
"Feuh-kohhh," she said, trailing the last syllable out.
"Right," I said.
Then she kind of smirked at me and said "I'll see if we have something... for you." As if someone like me was never, in a million years, going to be capable of understanding this big-brained French dude. I felt my face flush-- fortunately my blush would disguise the fact-- as she led me to the philosophy section.
We looked at the books for a minute-- she reached for one called Foucault For Dummies and I dismissed it with a haughty glare-- and eventually arrived at a thin introductory volume. All the while, though, I was looking at her-- her fat breasts loose under her Obama T-shirt, a roll sticking out on one side of her hips, her ample butt squishy in her jeans. There was something monstrous about her, large and hairy as she was, something repellent and yet magnetic, the sight of a woman my age so completely devoted to a different way of presenting herself to the world. I tried to imagine letting myself go like that-- no, it was too awful. And yet I couldn't tear away.
I took the book and thanked her, and as I walked away she sort of shook her head a little and smirked again, as if in amazement at the exotic creature she'd met today.
* * *
I devoured the book and was back at the bookstore within two da
ys. I was eager to tackle Foucault's major work, The History of Sexuality, but just as importantly, I wanted to buy it from her, show her that I had been capable of reading such a work and understanding it.
I had thought about her a lot in the past two days, trying to puzzle out what it would be like to be such a person. To present yourself that way to the world. Could I do that? Could I make such a radical change to myself and what I was here for? Could I stand the conniption fit that Mother would throw as a result?
I wandered the aisles, Foucault in hand, but didn't see her. Resigned, I found the philosophy department, and looked through it, but didn't seem to see volume one, The Will to Knowledge. I leafed through the second volume, but it was about ancient Greece, and seemed less interesting.
"Still looking for Foucault?"
I turned around and there she was, just as I'd remembered her-- rough and unkempt. Yet there was something lovely about her pale skin set off by black hair, even if some of it grew where it really should be plucked.
"I finished this, so I wanted to read his History of Sexuality," I said.
"You finished it?" She still seem bemused by me, the bitch. "What did you think of it."
"I thought it was interesting," I said, wincing at such a lame opening statement. Hurriedly I added, "I was interested by his concept of repression as being not just an instrument of control over our sexuality, but also, how we define ourselves. Like, if society wasn't there to set the boundaries, we wouldn't be able to, you know..."
"Construct an identity," she said.
"Right," I said.
"Because the one thing we see around us is that some people have very strong constructed identities," she said, peering at me through those black hornrims.
"And it may lead people who have their own constructed identity to make assumptions about others which might be too narrow," I said.
"Where in fact, their identity might be more fluid," she said.
"There could be a lot of fluidity," I said.
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