Shared Pussy

SHARED PUSSY

We were young college freshmen, both guys and dolls. Do you call them fresh girls? From my experience with Indiana farm girls, the title "fresh girls" was more than appropriate. Like most of my stories, it is based on a true occurrence. I was lucky to get in and get out alive. Some of the protagonist's comments are in slang; just bear with me, they're not typos.

The year in question was in the early 1960s, before Woodstock, or Jimi Hendrix astounded us. The Beatles had just broken through, and the folk music craze was almost over. The three women I'm going to describe were all over eighteen, especially their mom.

I'd left the busy, windy canyons of New York City to spend my first year of college in the Midwest. I'd graduated in the lower quarter of my high school class, and my counselor, good old Mr. Miller, said,

"You have little chance of being accepted at a local college. Let's try to get you into a teacher's college that is looking for athletes for their wrestling team."

"I'd qualify in freestyle."

"I see that," said Miller.

"How's the pussy out there?" I thought but didn't ask.

"More cunt than you'd find in a barrel of herring," Miller didn't reply.

I packed my beat-up grey plastic suitcase and hopped a Greyhound bus for the Midwest with a few hundred dollars my deadbeat dad had stuck in my hand. Mom's new hubby, I called stepdad "Bozo" because his Armenian name was too long to pronounce. He was the local chiropodist. You wouldn't want to shake his hand. This was before they used latex gloves. Bozo had offered to finance my college's monthly dorm payments if I got out of town pronto.

I took advantage of my good fortune and packed a box of Trojans I'd found in Mom's bedroom. Maybe that's how my stepdad, or someone else, got Mom pregnant by Easter vacation with my little brother, Tigran.

So I moved to the Midwest. I missed the whores who filled the New York City theater section late at night, ever willing to offer twenty-dollar blow jobs or sloppy $30 fucks in the corners of empty parking lots. I had always avoided the trannies who clustered under the raised highway, although some were quite beautiful. I expected I could get my wick dipped out where the corn grows as high as an elephant's eye. (We did Oklahoma as the senior school play.)

I sat in the back row of the Greyhound bus, near the emergency exit. It was my good luck that a dumb blond bombshell sat in the empty row in front of me. By the time we arrived in New Jersey, I'd convinced her to move one row back, next to me, and we began fooling around without a word.

My dad always said there is more action with the quiet girls. He wasn't often right, but this time I'd nailed the pussy right on the head. By the time we arrived in Pennsylvania, I'd gotten one hand between her long legs and a finger in her asshole. A blowjob with her head covered with my jacket seemed most appropriate. She spit my semen into the tiny ashtray Greyhound provided for smokers.

We all fell asleep and arrived in Hoosier-land in the early morning. The blond must have slipped off the bus quietly before I awoke. I could still taste her thick red lipstick when I climbed down the three steel bus steps in front of the Dutch Master's Cigar Luncheonette. A few minutes later, the bus driver opened the luggage hatch on the lower side of the bus. I spied my suitcase and said,

"The grey one is mine."

"This is a self-service bus, sonny," said the driver in his starched blue jacket. "Grab your bag and get going."

"Sure, boss, thanks for the nice ride, and all the stops in front of train tracks."

"Yeah, we ain't got no choice. That's state law."

Seeing the "Cigar Store luncheonette" just to my left, I opened their aluminum screen door. I carried my bag inside and followed the arrow to the restroom. I stood with my suitcase between my legs in front of a vacant porcelain sink and mirror and washed off any trace of the bombshell's red paint from my cheeks. When I unzipped to piss, I saw my dick was redder than usual. The guy occupying the urinal to my right must have noticed it too. He gave me a wink.

I zipped up my fly, went to the lunch counter, and ordered a cup of java and two eggs over easy with two thick slices of bacon.

The radio was blasting, so I had to shout,

"How do I get to the college?"

The guy behind the counter, sweating through his hair sticking out from under his white cap, pointed to a lonely cab stand. I waited there. After a few minutes, a cute black chick drove up in a yellow Ford cab with a plastic taxi light on the roof.

"Where to, mister?"

The driver was a light-skinned beauty with freckles, curly black hair, and a splendid figure.

"Honey-bunch," I unfolded a piece of paper, "Can you get me over to the college civic center, Harper Hall? They are supposed to assign me a dorm room."

"Sure, no problemo," said the twenty-two-year-old driver. Besides a big head of hair, she had a good set of melons.

.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

"It will kill ya, but if you don't mind, go ahead."

"What's your name? I crooned like the hit song.

"It ain't Mary or Sue, she crooned back, It's Melba."

Melba wasn't one of those tall, thin black girls I knew so well growing up. She was in her mid-twenties, about five foot six, slender but with great tits, and a smile that filled the cab, if not the entire universe. She was smart. Soon she expected to graduate from the teachers' college.

When I leaned forward over the front seat, I could see her gams were like a movie star's. She busied herself finding a pack of cigarettes in her patent-leather purse, which matched the short motorcycle jacket she wore, along with short black boots with shiny buckles.

She offered me an unfiltered Camel, but I turned her down.

We had an intimate conversation. When I told her I'd dated black girls in high school, she liked that. She promised to take me to the only jazz club in town, as long as I called her on her night off. Melba dropped me off in front of Harper Hall and handed me a white business card with her landline written in pencil on the back.

"Don't forget to call," she said in a Midwestern accent that was new to me and winked with her left eyelid. This winking business seemed to be all over the place.

Melba seemed like a good omen. I have always loved Black girls. I'd lost my cherry in more than one colored vagina. Black girls seemed to like it when you lied about being experienced, and then they were off to the races to teach you how to do it.

Once you got their legs spread wide or tight around your neck, with your tongue in their pussy, they were yours forevermore. Sometimes you had to spit out the loose pussy fur, but by then you were busy fucking. The secret was, the girls told me, black guys don't eat pussy. I wasn't black, and my hunger for pussy made me anxious to meet their needs.

If you didn't mind an occasional funky odor, it was good sex. Some girls were funky, some girls weren't, and some hid it with too much perfume. Black girls are far more advanced in sexual activities than white girls. I ate one Black girl out in the passenger seat of my stepdad's big Chrysler Imperial. After that, I was banned from using the Bozo car on dates.

"What did you do? The car smells like cunt," he shouted.

He hadn't yet noticed the semen stains that had soaked into the plush back seat leather upholstery.

"I leaned through the open taxi window and kissed Melba's cheek goodbye, giving her tit a squeeze, saying,

"I'll eat your pussy, babe."

"I'll bet you will," she responded. "Call me."

I never forgot her, but my new regime of full-time study left little time for off-campus shenanigans. I even beat off my ripe dick a few times imagining we were in bed together. Before I was able to meet up with Melba, I got involved with the shared pussy girls.

Once I got out of the taxi at Harper Hall, carrying my mangy old suitcase, I followed the white paper signs taped on the front door: "Dorm Rooms-this way." A cute, stocky senior student named Sandy gave me a file card with my dorm name and room number.

"Put your phone number on the back," I asked. I'll call you."

"I'm pinned, but I'll introduce you to my girlfriend."

"Right on." It seemed like the Midwest women liked aggressive males.

I learned that being pinned was like being engaged. It was not something I was interested in, but making friends seemed really easy. Everyone staying in a dorm had a landline. The only person I didn't ask for a number was the stranger in the restroom at the "Cigar Luncheonette," standing at the urinal next to mine and leaning over to get a gander at my red banana.

"You'd like a blow job?" he'd muttered.

"Been there, done that, bye-bye."

The landscape in Indiana was so flat you could look out of the dorm room and see the horizon closing over the distant farmlands. If the dorm window was open, the fields smelled like a wet dog.

I got lucky with a roommate whose dad was a mid-level General Motors executive. Mr. Anderson offered us, for our use, an old hooded front-window Chevy with a divided windscreen. When I drove around town, unlike New York, there were few tall buildings. The only tall structures were oil tanks or water towers that provided hydraulic pressure to the little towns along the way, which looked like something out of old-time movies.

The McDonald's had girls on roller skates, in tight sweaters, bringing you an aluminum tray of burgers and malts that attached to the side window. Fat burgers and big tits were what guys were dreaming of back then. If you were cool, you could slip a dollar tip inside their tight blouses and cop a feel. No one was doing drugs except a few musicians at the local jazz club.

My roommate hadn't come out of the closet yet but provided me with long massages after my wrestling practices with no happy endings. He did spend a lot of time rubbing my ass with lotion.

Two weeks later, my classmate Jillian invited me to a party. She was a little shorter than my preference, but blond and slender with ample boobs. I borrowed my roommate's car and headed out with a few condoms in my right pocket. You never know when you'd get a chance to fill them up.

It was a dark night with very little traffic, except for some asshole following behind me, his bright lights glaring. The old Chevy had a mounted spotlight, so I spun it around and shone a bright light in the jerk's eyes. He pulled over after that.

Jillian lived about 12 miles from the campus and commuted by bus to the early-morning 7:00 am class. These early classes were for working students, so they could get in an extra class before the workday began. They were also useful for attending a required class that might be overbooked later in the day. To accommodate early risers who didn't rush off to a daytime job, the school had a semi-dark room in the civic center basement where you could catch an hour or two of shut-eye before facing the rest of the day.

Jillian and I had dated twice, at the Starlight Drive-In where clothes were optional, and where, according to my date,

"On an occasional snowy night, no one watched the movie."

I drove out to Apple Tree Lane and picked up my date. On previous dates, Jillian and I had spent a few hours exploring each other within the confines of the old Chevy. Although she said she did not smoke, her mouth always tasted faintly of tobacco. With her front snap bra undone, I tried to make up for my deprived infancy when I was bottle-fed. My mother had a big rack, but one tit had an inverted nipple that didn't work for nursing, although her local paramours never complained about sucking on her tit.

My deadbeat dad was a nearsighted watchmaker who never paid attention to Mom's comings and goings, or sniffed her cunt when she got home late. I guess she thought Dad was cool when he and five thugs robbed the local bank wearing paper bags on their heads like the " Unknown Comic." I think Dad was paid a five hundred dollars for driving the getaway car. The police or the FBI never caught up with him. Three of the bank robbers were caught, but they never ratted him out.

About fifteen years later, Mom connected with the wealthy town chiropodist she'd visited for several years because of a bad big toe. The toenail had turned black, and it was pretty ugly. I drove her to his office several times. I'm sure she didn't wear panties when she went inside for treatment. Bozo would lock the examination room door. Bozo's wife was his nurse. I'd chat her up about the bookcase of paper novels they kept in the waiting room. Mrs. Bozo always looked peaked. I wasn't surprised when an OB with her name appeared in the local paper. She'd died of breast cancer.

Once Bozo was a single widower, Mom started inviting him over for dinner on the nights when Dad attended the Elks Lodge meetings. Dad would come home half blind and stinking of beer about an hour after Bozo had left. Of course, Bozo had finished examining Mom's big toe and whatever else caught his fancy up in her bedroom. Mom divorced Dad about six months later. Dad hardly paid attention and just signed the papers and moved into the back room of his little watch repair shop.

Voila! I had a stepdad.

I still saw my Dad at his shop. He offered to teach me how to repair watches, but I wasn't interested. Maybe it was the smell of dead cigarettes and the chemicals they used to clean the watch gears, not my idea of perfume, and there didn't seem to be much of a future in being a watchmaker when the future belonged to electronics.

Meanwhile, I was attending the early college class. After class, Jillian and I would visit the snooze room located under the student center. We were usually alone in the darkness, lying on the yellow, plastic-striped beach chairs the school provided for snoozing. With the beach chairs pulled close together, we could make out. I don't know what you'd call it. Maybe a sex expert would call it mutual masturbation.

I'd get my fingers under her bloomers, and she'd finish me off with a wad of Kleenex to catch my copious ejaculate. I was afraid to get caught having intercourse with her, but being a farm girl, she'd often suggest a quick blow job with her head under her jacket.

God bless all the farm girls. She had a knack for filling her mouth with saliva, and it almost felt like you were fucking underwater. I always came very quickly, as time was of the essence, and for the sake of hygiene, she always swallowed my semen. We did all this quickly before anyone else came into the room. What more could you ask?

I met Jillian's dad and mom twice. They seemed like nice people. Her dad had sold the family farm to a big conglomerate and was working as a mechanic at the nearby Chevrolet plant. He smiled at me with his blue eyes under his creased eyelids. He asked what I was studying. When I said I was a pre-law student, he said, "But be an honest one."

Jillian told me her girlfriend, Mabel, was having a party on Saturday night in the basement of her mom's house. I soon learned how much of a friend her girlfriend was. Mabel was also a farm girl, but I never met her dad. Maybe her parents had split. When we arrived at the party, Jillian disappeared to get me a cold beer. Someone 21 or older had brought several six-packs. to the party. At that time, you had to be twenty-one to buy beer.

Jillian left me alone with her girlfriend, Mabel, and told me to dance with her. I did as I was told. Someone put on a slow record, "I Can't Stop Loving You," by Ray Charles, which had spent five weeks on the Billboard charts. I held her tightly in my arms,

"You sound just like President Kennedy," Mable said.

I was from New York, and a New Yorker doesn't have a Boston accent, but I didn't argue. Kennedy went on to fuck Marilyn. I certainly would not argue semantics over accents. Monroe was prime pussy. Meanwhile, I had to make do with Mabel.

Mabel was taller than Jillian, almost my height at 5'9", and with bigger breasts. Her tits looked like those early round striped watermelons they sell alongside the road in the fall or summer. I cradled her sizable ass in my hands as we danced. She offered no resistance. Her breasts, pressed against me, felt very warm. Mabel had her arms around my waist. I could feel the cleft in her butt as my hands circled her ass in the semidarkness.

"What do you like about Jillian?" Mabel asked.

"She's a lot of fun," I said.

"Have you fucked her?"

"I'm sorry, but that's a private sort of question. I don't kiss and tell."

"Sure you don't. Tell me another lie. If we were dating, you could fuck me every night."

"Good to know."

By now, I was getting a little nervous and began looking around for Jillian,

"Where is Jill, "I asked.

"Oh, she's probably upstairs. She loves to talk with my mom."

"What do they talk about?"

"Oh, you know, girl stuff."

"That's nice."

"Jillian said it was okay for us to make out."

"I don't believe you."

"No, it's true. We always share boyfriends. Do you wanna fuck?"

Mabel had begun to rub the front of my pants, and my cock sprang into action like a river trout jumping out of water. She wasn't kidding about us fucking.

"Hey, come with me. I want to show you something."

Mabel pulled me by my cock toward what looked like a doorway, but it turned out to be a large storage closet. With her right hand on my cock, she opened the door with her left hand and pushed me inside. I was afraid I'd get tangled up with this plump gal and worried about what Jillian might say. I didn't want to lose those early morning blowjobs.

"I'd like to stay faithful to my date."

"Jilley don't care. I told you that. Don't be an asshole."

"Isn't she your friend?"

"That don't matter, none. I just told you, we share our guys."

By now, Mabel had pushed me against the wall, where a large clothes rack hung.

I didn't realize how strong she was. My back was pressed against a brown hunting jacket spattered with what looked like brown paint.

"You go hunting?"

"Nah, that ain't my jacket."

"Whose is it?"

"You ask too many questions. Don't you know, curiosity killed the cat."

Mabel deftly unbuckled my belt and smoothly unzipped my jeans, which, under the weight of my wallet and car keys, fell to my knees.

"I guess you've done this before?" I asked.

Mabel didn't respond, but her one hand had reached my cock, and her other hand was squeezing my balls up and down in an upward motion I'd never felt before.

God, it felt so good that even the smell of camphor didn't put me off.

"Are we supposed to be doing this?"

"I told you it's okay."

Without explaining further, she said, "I just want a taste," and knelt on the cement floor. The next thing I knew, she was sucking me off like I was a lollipop.

"Wow," I moaned. "I don't want a blow job."

"What do you want?"

The words rushed out.

"I guess I mean. I want to fuck you."

"Oh, do you? This is some big dick you've got," she said, hefting my naked member's staff with three fingers. "How big is it?"

"It's not that big, about seven and a half inches, maybe eight when erect, but about four and a half when it's not hard."

"Yeah, I figured, it's long enough to go down my throat. You know what's good about that?"

"No, tell me."

"See, when a guy's dick is that long, when he comes in your mouth, it goes right down your throat, and you hardly get to taste it. If you want to taste it, you gotta let it spurt right on your tongue."

"This is a very educational conversation."

That comment cracked her up, and she started giggling.

When she stopped, she was still holding tightly to my penis and said,

"You know what I like about your cock?"

"What's that?"

"It's very thick. It's the kind of cock I favor. A long, skinny dick just doesn't fill me up."

"Maybe we should stop talking and get to fucking before my date shows up."

"Don't worry about that. I told you, she doesn't care."

"Let me get a condom on."

"I don't fuck with condoms. I like to feel bare skin on bare skin."

"But I could get you pregnant"

"I'm a Catholic. We don't believe in birth control."

"So, how do you keep from getting pregnant? I assume you aren't a virgin?"

She smirked,

"Not hardly. It ain't rocket science. You pull out your dick before you come inside me. If you like, you can come in my mouth, and I'll swallow."

By now, I had my finger inside her big ass.

"Or you can finish in my ass," she said.

"

That sounds good, but you'll be leaking my cum. I have a pretty big load."

"Let me worry about that."

"Let's get to it," I whispered. I was thinking, this girl is crude. What she is offering ain't worth missing. Maybe she's a lying slut, but who cares? My Dad always said,

"When you find free pussy--"Take it."

Mabel got off her knees and came up for air. With one smooth movement of her large hand, she guided my dick into her wet, warm cunt. Her short red skirt lay on the floor with her panties on top. Her blouse was somewhere underneath. Her big tits hung tight against her chest, and now they were pressed tightly against me. Somewhere along the way my shirt went missing.

I pushed my erection deep inside her cunt. I could feel she had a landing strip as large as a gay guy's goatee. Her cunt was as wide as a woman who'd given birth. She had no trouble taking all my dick's full length and width. It made me wonder how tight her ass was.

After about two minutes of the old in and out, I felt a tightness in my balls that warned I was ready to cum.

"Uh-oh," I pulled my cock out of her thirsty cunt with my right hand, clamped my fingers hard on my staff so I wouldn't lose my erection.

"Hurry, spin over. I want to finish in your butt."

She turned to face the closet of winter coats. We were still standing up. My dick, like a homing missile, slammed into her tight asshole. Her ass was tighter than her vag. I'd never fucked while standing up. I could see it wasn't a problem.

"Go easy. I ain't been done in the backside for a while."

I grabbed each side of the fat on her ass. She wasn't going to escape me. I showed her no mercy as I pushed myself hard inside her ass cheeks, struggling with several hip bumps to get all my dick deep inside her tight ass. She moaned from the pain. The effort gave me extra time to enjoy the situation. My need to ejaculate had slowed. I realized I preferred her tight ass to her loose cunt.

.

I should have lubed her, but after the blowy, my cock was as wet as a melting icicle.

"Oh. Oh. Oh, babe. Here it comes. Suck it up."

She knew just what to do. She gave her butt an in-suck. This was an uncommon learned talent with butt-fuckers. My dick shot its hot honey load, which had her gasping and moaning like an animal, as she vacuumed my cum deep inside her. I kissed her hard on the neck, biting to give her a big hickey. She wasn't going to hide what we'd done, if that was her plan.

Once her heavy breathing and grunting stoped, she said,

"Listen, I want to tell you something for your own good," Mabel said. "Jillian may not be all you think she is. She brought her boyfriend, Jimmy, down here when he was drunk. We tied his arm up to the hooks on the ceiling. Then she invited several of her friends to shave all the hair off his tiny dick. They took turns trying to jerk him off. It took a while because he was too drunk to cum, but eventually he did, and then they rubbed the cum on his face. Don't let her get mad at you. You don't know what she is capable of."

"Oh, that's funny. You are kidding me. I don't believe a word of it."

Then the closet door opened.

"Oh, shit," It was my date.

"Oh Jesus," said Jillian, "I figured I'd find you two in here. You, sir, are fucking my best friend. You're supposed to ask my permission to have sex with other girls."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I pulled my dick out of Mabel's tight ass as I turned to face Jillian. The last pulsation of warm jism shot out of my cock and hit her in the middle of her short mini-skirt.

"Oh, Goddamn," Jillian shouted, "You came all over me."

"Suck him clean," said Mabel. "You know the drill, just like you did to Jimmy when Doris finally was able to jerk him off."

"Is his dick clean?"

"My ass is as clean as a preacher's wife."

Jillian seemed accustomed to taking orders from her girlfriend. Jill knelt on the hard cement floor and sucked my dick clean as a wet pretzel. When my hard erection literally popped out of her mouth, I said,

"Pop goes the weasel."

They both laughed.

"Ladies, I gotta thank you with all my heart. This is the first time I've been two-timed like this."

Mabel laughed, "You can go upstairs now and fuck my mom if you like, if Jillian gives you permission."

"I'd be up for that, but I'd need an hour to recharge."

Actually, I'd met Mabel's chubby mom, Ruth, who greeted us at the door. She had a full head of long red hair and an unbuttoned blouse that showed off her exceptional cleavage.

"His ball sack is as empty as the lost silver mine," Jillian quipped. "He's done for the night."

The three of us untangled from our tryst. With my arms around the two girls waists, we walked out of the closet into the small group of party guests.

"You better put your naked dick back in your pants, or one of the other gals will grab it like she's bobbing for apples," said Mabel.

I reached down and pulled up my briefs and zipped the hatch closed.

Jillian and I hung around for a while, dancing and smooching. Mabel's mom came down and danced with some of the guys. When it came time to leave,

I kissed Mabel goodbye on the cheek and whispered, "It was fantastic."

"I'm here waiting." said Mabel. "Whenever you want to fuck, come on by. I dig that thick cock of yours. Jillian don't mind, so don't be a stranger."

Once Jillian and I were separated from the group, I said, "Mabel told me some crazy story about you and a few girls tying up your friend Jimmy and shaving off his pubic hair and then jerking him off."

"That ain't no biggy. The hair grew all back."

"So," said Jillian, changing the topic,

"Do you like the way Indiana girls treat strangers? Did you like how I got my girlfriend to let you fuck her in the closet? That wasn't an accident. Or are you unhappy and moving back to New York?"

"I ain't going back to New York for a while. I'm sticking right here with you."

Jillian and I left the party, and walked down the concrete path and got into the car. I leaned over and tongue-kissed her. She tasted like a wet dick. I pulled back.

"A little bull juice ain't gonna turn you into a homo," she said.

'I hope not, or your neighborhood faggot at the Cigar Store will welcome me back."

"That's Jason Stone, the town queer. He graduated a few years back. They say he majored in cocksucking."

"Oh, you know him?"

"Only by reputation. He's the sheriff's son. Well, before he sucks your dick, I got first dibs on your big Johnson. You know, you ain't fucked me yet."

"You Catholic too?

"Naw, you can use a condom on me. Just make sure it's big enough. I don't want it to tear open in the middle of the act."

.

"I think I'm too pooped to do you tonight, hon, sorry bout that. But I could do you with my fingers and my tongue."

"That's okay. You should be recharged by next week. My boyfriend Jimmy, who's in the army, will be back Sunday. I can't be fucking around with you while he is here."

"How's about Saturday night?"

"I'm sure I can fit your dick in. But no hickies, and I don't do butt fucks, my asshole is just too tight. Jimmy tried that, and he made me bleed."

"I'll stick to your vageegee. No worries."

I wiped off the shiny cum that was on her lips and started up the old Chevy. I thought,

"I sure picked the right place to spend my freshman year, but maybe this whole pussy sharing is strange. Maybe I better be careful."

"So what do you think about Indiana girls?" said Jillian.

"They are the hottest and the coolest," I quickly responded.

I dropped Jillian off on Apple Tree Lane and drove over to the dorm. The time with Mabel really wore me out. I took a hot shower in the communal bathroom and scrubbed the cunt juices off my ball sack, cock and thighs. A good thing my stepdad wasn't here to tell me rightly. I smelled like cunt.

A few days later I stopped to talk to Sammy, the bearded custodian who worked at my dormitory. He had grown up in town and said he had noticed me walking around campus with a little blond chick.

"Yeah, that's my girlfriend, Jillian.

"Ain't she friends with that chubby girl? I don't know her name, but I seen them together."

"That's Mabel Morton. She lives outside the town, " I said.

"Morton, Morton," he paused, "Does she have a mother named Ruth, red-haired, a little plump, with two very big bazongas? Looks just like her daughter."

"I think that's her mom. Do you know her?"

"I went to high school with Ruth, and she ran with one of the older frat brothers, her boyfriend named Dusty Houser. He ended up doing time for a DUI in his old customized Ford coupe that killed two people, high school teachers from the next town over. He was a nice guy, but he drank too much. He got life, or near to it, if I remember correctly."

"Jesus, that's not good."

"Yeah, I'd steer clear of her. Her mom got into trouble a few years back. She was caught fucking a 16-year-old by the kid's mother. That case got kicked out of court. To get free, she probably fucked the judge and the bailiff. There was also some talk that she was seeing Larry Snoops, the high school kid who disappeared a few years back on a hunting trip."

"Anyway, Dusty used to bring Ruthy around to the high school frat house and offer her services free of charge to the frat members. In those days, high school fraternities were a big thing. Dusty'd say, "I believe in sharing pussy."

"No guy is gonna argue with that belief."

"I was there one night when she got gang-banged by at least seven of the brothers, and she was a regular feature at the beer busts. Dusty used to call them cherry bust parties, saying,

"If anyone can find her cherry and bust it, I'll give a $100 dollar bill as a prize for red blood in her cunt or on your dick."

"Some frat guy brought in two black guys with huge dicks, and the harder they fucked her, the more she liked it."

"Needless to say," said Sammy, "no one ever got the C-note, cause that cherry was long, long gone and no trace of it was ever found."

"Wow, sounds like the daughter follows in the mother's footsteps."

"Why ya say that? You get to fuck her?"

"I'd rather not say, but she looks real available, big tits and all."

Talking about Mabel and her mom's porno run had given me a hard-on, so I excused myself to take a piss. If the restroom was vacant, I'd run cold water on my dick.

The next Saturday night I fucked Jillian twice on the front seat of the Chevy. I went around to the passenger side, pulled her legs out, panties down on our way to the Starlight and again on the side of the road on the way back, just to keep her cunt wide open for Jimmy, whoever he was.

"Now, don't be telling anyone I haven't fucked you."

"I won't be able to have sex with you after tonight because Jimmy is in town. You know how to get to Mabel's house. If she's not home, you have my permission to fuck her mom."

Thankfully, Jimmy's furlough was only for two weeks. I got so horny waiting for the soldier boy to leave town, I thought about driving out to Mabel's place, but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. And then there was that cute female taxi driver in the back of my mind. I still had the hots for her, but I knew Mabel would certainly wring any wrinkles out of my cock.

I was just too horned up. I don't believe in self-abuse. I'm not a Catholic.

The drive to Mabel's house had become a weekly event. She was always glad to see me. When I appeared at the front door, her hands were all over me. I mostly fucked her in her bedroom or on the living room couch. On one occasion, I was so horny I fucked her standing up against the living room wall as soon as she opened the door.

Against my better judgment, my hard-on won out, and I headed out to Mabel's without calling ahead. In months previous, I didn't hesitate to visit her when I needed relief. Now that Jimmy was gone, Jillian was studying for final exams.

"Not tonight, hon." I unzipped my pants to show Jill my hard-on.

"Okay, honey, you best go visit Mabel. She will get the swelling down."

I took her advice and drove out to Mabel's house. When I got there, it wasn't Mabel who answered the door, but her mom, wearing only a leopard print bathrobe.

"Well, come on in, Mr. Big Dick. I've heard all about you. Come on, Sweetcake, give Mama a big kiss."

After she got her tongue out of my throat, which had an alcoholic taste, I asked if Mabel was home."

"She's over at the church rehearsing in the choir. They are having a special fundraiser with tunes from various musicals."

"I didn't know she could sing."

"All us girls can sing, once we get the cocks out of our mouths. But you know, when I was your age, my voice changed, probably due to my visits to the frat house, but you wouldn't know about that? You ain't heard about Dusty, my husband?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, come on in. Let me get you something to drink."

She took off her leopard-spotted robe and hung it on the coat rack. There she was, as naked as a jaybird.

"You don't mind if I take off this thing. Once we get down to business, we won't need it."

My first impression of Mabel's mom, Ruth, was that she was a bit chunky. Now, in her bare flesh, I could see it was her huge tits that made her look fat. Her waist was narrow, her ass was large and curvy, but she looked more like Mabel's sister than her mom.

She disappeared for a few moments. Then came out of the kitchen carrying two beers and handed me one. It was cold as hell.

"Come on into my bedroom."

I followed her down the hall from the living room into a dark room. She adjusted the light with a rotary switch, but it was still dark. With effort, you could make out an enormous bed, two bureaus, night tables, and a glass chandelier over the bed.

"Set down your beer and let's get to know each other. I know you've been fucking the dangerous duo, but when we are done, I want you to tell me which vixen is the best."

Needless to say, the next hour left me stunned and exhausted. I was sucked, then we fucked, but before I could come inside her, she insisted I try butt fucking her. I guess she was also Catholic because we weren't using condoms. She obviously found the greatest pleasure with a cock slowly fucking her in her butt. She insisted I rasp the edges of her asshole on the outstroke and then jam it hard on the in stroke. I did as requested until the corona of my dick was getting sore. Then she said,

"Go for it, sweetmeat. Fill me up with your sweet dew."

I lost my load somewhere west of Eden. When I came, she insisted I stay inside her till my dick shrunk. Several minutes later she gave me a partial blow job to clean me up and said,

"Okay, buster, you had your fun. Now you can tell your friends you fucked a mother and a daughter."

The way she said that, there was a streak of nastiness. I know I've heard that some women after sex get nasty. Who knows what the effect of having to fuck God only knows how many guys, one after the other, had on her. But maybe I was wrong and she enjoyed it?

I got to my feet and grabbed my clothes, shoes, socks, and all, but before I ran out of there, I paused,

"Ma'am. I gotta say you are the best fuck of my entire life, the very best."

Then she spoke, but this time her voice was sweet and languid.

"You are a sweet boy. Now I know why the girls love ya. I love ya too. Oh, take the beer with ya. It's probably warm by now."

It turned out that the night was cold. There was an absence of heat in her bedroom, except for the heat thrown off by her two giant titties. The beer was still cold. I grabbed it between two fingers and was about to make my escape when I saw an enlarged color photo framed on the wall behind her bed. In the semi-darkness, I could make out a red-headed woman and a bunch of guys standing around her.

"What's this?" I pointed at the photo.

"Oh, let me turn on the light. That's a photo my hubby took of a time when seven guys gang-banged me in the frat house. If you look closely, the caption above it says, "The House of Shared Pussy." That was not a record number. I did a lot more guys on the Easter holiday weekend, and once during the rush season, there must have been twenty guys, mostly pledges.

"What's this?" I spied what looked like a pair of dried balls, a nut sack, on a wooden plaque nailed to the wall, with the word "Larry," written above it.

"Oh, that's one of them dried ball sacks they sell to tourists in Mexico. They come from castrated heifers. Kind of funny. Don't ya think?"

"You have always been generous with your charms," I said. "Any of those guys you bedded were certainly very lucky."

"That's nice of you to say that. Some people think I'm a whore, but I never took a penny. Dusty believed in sharing pussy. I taught my daughter to do the same.

"God bless both of you," I said. "You are what the world needs now, as the song goes."

With that fond adieu, I exited, clothes in hand, and didn't stop till I got to the car, where I beat a hasty retreat. I reached down to feel my ball sack. It was usually firm and sperm-filled. Tonight it felt like an empty pea pod.

As I said to my buddy, Evan, when I got back home,

"You don't have to go to Bristol. The Indiana girls are hot as thistle, and their moms are too."

Meanwhile, a week passed, and my dick started acting up. I'd wake up with a hard-on, and my pee hole had a dab of sperm that stuck to my finger when I touched it. Yeah, it was that old cum juice begging to come on out and fill a cunt.

I decided to ask Jillian for a date, but she begged off, saying,

"I have a final exam on Monday. Why don't you go see Mabel."

Time, tide, and a fresh hard-on don't wait. Jimmy was probably jerking off in Uncle Sam's khaki tent. Still, Sammy had warned me against the two girls and the mom. A little voice in my brain told me not to return. I knew I was treading on dangerous water. I was afraid if I continued fucking the duo, my jacket would be added to the ones in the closet, not to mention my balls hanging there next to Larry's.

Something in Jillian's voice made me think I'd better not let her know I meant to leave town for good. My inner voice was telling me, one more session might be one too many, and I pride myself on a full bush of pubic hair. The idea of a few girls taking advantage of me and possibly razoring off my balls was scary. Who knew what they were up to?

"Oh, what the hell."

There I was again, on the road again to Mabel's. When I got there, she told me to wait outside. Five minutes later, some guy I'd never seen before came out the door, stopped to zip up his fly, and winked at me. Mabel came out shortly thereafter.

"Come on in. It was just a quick blowjob."

"No problem." I unzipped my fly and took out my erection. "Can you shrink it down, I can hardly button my pants"

"Why didn't Jill take care of you?"

"She's studying for a final."

"And you believed her?"

By now the chilly air was deflating my hard-on."

"Ok, no problem. How do you want it?"

"Would a butt fuck be alright. Your ass is so good and tight."

"Sure, just pull out before you come. I'm too tired to wash your goo out at this hour."

So we adjourned to her bedroom. She got into a doggy position. I clamped onto her hips from behind. It. didn't take long. I pulled out, and came in a washcloth she handed me before we started.

,

When we were done, I kissed her on the cheek, and I said goodbye.

"Don't say goodbye. Say good night."

Since she'd just blown a guy, I didn't think a tongue-kiss was desirable.

"Good night, babe. Thanks so much. I needed that so bad."

"You know I'm always here for you and this here," as she cupped my crotch.

An escape presented itself via the postal service. I received a form letter postmarked from New York saying my application to the New School had been accepted. The hard work I put into my first year of studies had placed me on the Dean's List for three quarters. Now I was an academic success.

Somehow, I, the high school dunce, was on a new track. I think it was related to my active sex life. I hadn't jerked off in months when I was fucking Jillian or Mabel once or twice a week. Pussy, for me, has always been the panacea.

I never told Mabel or Jillian I wasn't coming back. They could figure that out. That summer at Jones Beach was very hot. For some reason, I ‌thought it would purge my connection to Indiana, so I shaved my cock and balls. I put the curly mass of pubic hair in a box and mailed it to my two dangerous paramours without a return address.

I don't know what they thought when they opened the box, but I finally felt free of the two crazies who had controlled my sex life. I never knew what they had in mind, if I failed to please them. Mabel once mentioned a previous boyfriend who had supposedly disappeared on a winter hunting trip. If he was number one, I didn't want to be number two. For all I knew, I might be three or four.

One section of the concrete floor in the basement closet looked wet and dark, as if it were plastered over recently. When I asked Mabel if they had done basement repairs, she began to laugh like a hyena. When she calmed down, she said,

"Honeybun, you don't wanna go down there, believe me."

At the end of the third quarter, I was ready to leave town. I called Melba and asked if she could take me to the bus station. She remembered me and admonished me for staying away.

"I just had a lot of studying to do to catch up."

"I understand, no worries." That's the nice thing about most black girls--no pressure.

As luck would have it, Melba told me she was going to New York for several weeks during the summer. I gave her my number so we could get together. I only had one regret for the sexual season that I'd spent in Indiana tied to those two crazy girls and their gangbanger mom. The regret was that I never got to spend time with Melba, my hot black taxi driver.

Like all things in life, you gotta have patience. That dream of being with Melba did work out. I met up with her in one of the big department stores, and we had fun window shopping. When we made sweet love back at Auntie's home. Melba thought my naked cock. and balls were hysterical. I hesitated to tell her why my cock and balls were hairless. A guy has to have some secrets. Instead, I lied, and I told her I had shaved in sympathy for a friend who had prostate cancer. After that story, she called me a hero and sucked me twice as hard.

Melba moved differently than white girls. It was as if a jazz concert going on. She swayed and bounced to unheard music. She was so beautiful. Even her small feet were perfect. I guess I fell in love with her right then. When I told her about the sexual circus I was part of, she insisted I get an STD checkup at the free clinic. I passed. We were inseparable for her entire stay. I moved into her private little room at her Auntie's house in the New York suburbs. It was in a converted garage, and living together was everything I had always hoped for. When I told her I had lied about the reason my privates were shaved, she said, "No worries."

It turned out, Melba had just completed her teaching degree. When we talked about living together, she said she was sure she could get a job teaching, while I finished my studies. After we married at City HalI, I got a part-time job at a Park Avenue law firm that convinced me to eventually continue on to law school. By the time I graduated from law school, Melba and I had two little tan kids, and life was good. Needless to say, butt fucking was not on the menu, but condoms were. Our sex life was frequent, and wonderful.

In the vast, dark emptiness of space, the one thing I can rely on is Melba's smile and happy attitude. I have seen this lovely characteristic in several close black friends. They don't worry about tomorrow. They hope for the best, but they deal with whatever cards life deals them, with acceptance, not anger. Many friends of European extraction, are worriers. They worry as their parents worried, and on and on, back thousands of years. They expect the worst will arrive tomorrow and are never disappointed. Even when good things arrive, they still worry they will turn.

My brother-in-law, once an award-winning long-distance jumper, was a super athlete. By the time he reached his 35th year, he had acquired a series of illnesses that left him hardly able to walk. And yet, he rises early every Sunday morning to phone relatives across the United States, touch base, inquire about their well-being, and offer advice if they ask.

Melba is in good health. She is a mother and an exceptional person. Everyone loves her. She is a respected family kingpin as she ages. I am lucky they welcomed me into their family. My father-in-law, a retired police captain, now offers his babysitting services when needed. He also helped modernize the older home we bought and even countersigned our loan application. I am truly blessed. One thing I have learned: being in love is a lot better than just fucking around!