Chapter 1

"Fuck me! Fuck my ever-loving twat out! Fuck me so hard that it bleeds! Come on and fuck the shit out of it! You're not even trying! What the hell is the matter with you? Can't you get that God damn boner to move?!? Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" She could see it sliding in and out of her pussy. She could see the thick root, and she could see her flesh lips spread to accommodate such a large and thorny trunk. She reached around his buns and grabbed on. "Fuck me harder!" she wailed. Her ear-piercing screeches could be heard throughout the house, up and down the block, across the city: "FUUUCK MMMEEEEEE!"

Sharon Pettibone rolled over in her sleep. What she thought was a scream was her own tiny voice barely audible against her pillow. The jumbo phallus evaporated. Her twat was empty. "Jesus," she grunted, "why the hell couldn't it have been real?" She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. "Just once, Lord," she murmured, "I would like to have a real penis in my pussy. Just once. That's all. Nothing special. I'm not asking you to fix me up for life, to get me married--just a simple little fuck. Know what I mean? A nice piece of cock flesh inside my little lips, just so I'll know for sure what I'm missing."

"Is that you, Sharon?" asked Debby, Sharon's sister. Debby was just waking up too. "Are you talking to yourself again?" Debby rolled onto her elbow and looked at Sharon. The girls looked enough alike that they were often mistaken one for the other, but really Debby was the older, and, naturally, the more experienced. "What time is it?" she moaned at Sharon.

"I don't know and I don't care," said Sharon who pulled the sheets up tight around her head. She wanted to go back to sleep, back to her dream where there was a big man with a big boner. He was pounding her twat with a huge of hard-on the likes of which she knew she would probably never find in real life. She wanted to go back to that fantasy of love's wishes granted. She could see him mounting her, sliding his hands up her thighs and spreading her loins. She could feel his fingers rubbing her soft, comely legs apart. She felt her supple flesh give way to his kneading fingers, and she looked down between their two bodies where his cock playfully bounced alongside her furry mound. She lifted her legs outwards and gave him room to move in. "Come on," she muttered. "Come on in and screw me up good. It'll fit. Don't worry. I can take it. Just jam it in there and FUCK ME!" She lifted her knees and her smooth and tender loins opened for him. He smiled and leaned down into the breach. "There," he gasped, "is the kind of a twat worth looking at." She had pulled open the lips, spread the hairs back out of the way, and prepared the channel with a steady flow of ooze. Everything was oily. He dipped on finger in, just to be sure, and down it went. There was no friction-everything was smooth and slippery. He teased her clit and pulled his finger out: "You're soft, baby, and I'm gonna love fucking you with my big hard prick muscle. You know what I mean? I'm gonna love shoving my prick down that alley!"

"Sharon? Sharon? Are you awake?" It was Debby again. Sharon opened her eyes, gave up the fantasy of the big man with the big ideas. "What is it?" she asked, coming reluctantly back to reality. "I was having a little dream and every time you wake me up."

"I'm sorry," said Debby, "but it's time to go to school." Debby climbed up out of her bed. She was nude and Sharon watched her sister prepare for school. Unlike herself, Debby had little titties with pert nipples. But Sharon couldn't figure it out. No matter how much bigger her own breasts were, the guys still went out with Debby. They still asked Debby to go out before her. She watched Debby as the older girl stood in front of the mirror. Debby's hips were a little wider than Sharon's and the hair around Debby's cunt was a little darker blonde than Sharon's bush, but other than that, the girls looked pretty much alike. "Shit," grumbled Sharon, "I sure do wish that I was the one who was popular."

"Some day soon," said Debby. "Don't you worry. They'll be pawing you like bears paw honey. Don't you worry." Debby pulled her two titties into place in her bra. She slipped gracefully into panties. Sharon wondered why her sister bothered with that stuff. It was common knowledge that at least once a day she fucked her boyfriend. Why bother with getting dressed in all that stupid clothing if you were just going to have to take it all off during lunch? Sharon knew for a fact that when the time came she herself would wear no underwear, no bra, and the loosest skirt possible. A quick fuck would be the best possible thing that could happen to her, and there would be no sense in cluttering it up with a lot of useless old fashion equipment. She smiled as her sister turned to her and said: "Don't you think you ought to get up, too? We had to be at school in a few minutes."

"Later for that," said Sharon. "I don't want to do anything right now except lay here in bed." She reached down between her legs to scratch an itch on her thigh.

"Oh, I see," said Debby. "You have something down there you have to look into? Is that it?"

"That's nasty," said Sharon. "You mind your own business!" She picked up a pillow and threw it across the room at Debby who was easily out the door and away before the pillow hit anywhere near her.

But that was all fine with Sharon. For the younger Pettibone girl wanted only to be alone. She wanted to have just this opportunity to get to her mound. She slipped her two hands down between her legs and spread the perfect little twat lips there. It only took her a moment more to get a finger up against her clitoris, which, incidentally, was quite hard. She pulled and pushed on the rubbery little clit button, and then she took to pinching it off in a steady rhythm. "Mmmmm," she hummed to herself, "this is the way to wake up in the morning."

She'd have gotten herself good and greasy, but just then the door to her room swung open. "Darling," said Mrs. Pettibone, a rather attractive woman in her own right, "it's time to be getting ready for school." She was all smiles and good graces when it came to talking with her daughters. "You don't want to be late now, darling, do you?" Mrs. Pettibone didn't notice that her lovely daughter Sharon was busily rearranging the sheets so that she wouldn't be discovered masturbating herself as she was. "No, Mom," she said, "I don't want to be late, but I don't want to infect all those kids at school with SWINE FLU, either."

"What?!" screamed Mrs. Pettibone. "Are you ill, darling?" The teenager's mother started to race toward the bed. But Sharon lifted a cautious open palm. "Stay over there, Mom. I don't want to be responsible for killing my mother. Just let me sweat it out!" Mrs. Pettibone stopped dead in her tracks. "Is it that contagious?" she asked, backing off just a little.

"I don't know," said Sharon, reaching a hand secretly under the sheets and back down to her wet twat, "but I don't want to take any chances." She found her clitoris upright and ready for a quick little massage. Now if only her mother would leave h alone.

"Well, darling," said Mrs. Pettibone, "I'd better call the Doctor and--"

"NO DOCTORS!" hollered Sharon, taking her hand out of her pie. She couldn't believe that her mother wouldn't leave her be just for a while. "Please, Mom," she said, "I think this thing will take it's normal intercourse, I mean its normal course if we just let it be." Mrs. Pettibone, confused and dumbfounded, nodded and then shook her head as she backed out of her fifteen year old daughter's bedroom. She shut the door behind her.

"At last," sighed Sharon, "I can get my fingers down to the place where they can do the most good." And with that she reached both hands down between her spread loins and she lifted her thighs and knees. "Ahhh, yes," she breathed a sigh of relief, "now where was I... oh, yes, he was just about to enter me."

She pictured a big strong fellow with a tight erection. He was leaning into her pie, pressing the head of his meat up between her twat lips. He had a hard-on the size and thickness of the Eiffel Tower. He wasn't the kind of a man who would take no for an answer, and in this fantasy, Sharon Pettibone wasn't the kind of a teenager who would even think of shaking her head. She gave him free reign, and she even opened up those tender dark lips of her pussy and said: "Come on in, mother fucker, and stick me hard. Give me that big hot muscle of yours; or are you afraid?"

"Afraid of a douche bag twat hole like you, honey?" answered the fantasy man with the big flesh projectile. "I got a cannon that blows away little girls just from the noise it makes. So you get that pussy pie of yours ready, babydoll. I'm gonna fuck you black and blue."

"Promises, promises, promises," moaned Sharon. Then she reached down and took hold of the monster man's phallus head. She took the mushroom head and pressed it up against her clitoris. She switched her hips back and forth so that the man's meaty stick would go sliding against her pussy button, rubbing against her twat lips, making her hole as hefty and juicy as possible. It was nice for her to feel so much sexual stimulation in one place at one time.

"Aren't you going to lick my titties, too, Mr. Monster Man?"

He smiled back at her. "Gimme those things," he said. He leaned over her tits and started gobbling. He worked those two hefty mammaries up and down with just his tongue. The giant from Jack And The Beanstalk couldn't have given her a better tonguing. The Monster Man's tongue was everywhere, licking and sucking, making it with her nipples and giving her the kind of chest thrill that she was looking for. It was oral delight for the two of them.

But just when things were getting good and hot, just when Sharon Pettibone's pussy was starting to leak at full strength, and just when the room was beginning to take on that musty scent of clit juice and ooze, the telephone started ringing. "Jesus fucking God," cried Sharon, "can't a girl get a little peace and quiet around here!" She reached out from between her legs and answered the phone. It was her father. "I forgot my briefcase, Sharon, darling, and if I don't get it right away, I won't be able to sign a very important deal. Would you mind bringing it into the office?"

"Daddy," pleaded Sharon, "didn't mother tell you I was in bed with SWINE FLU?"

"Sharon, little darling, your Daddy's been around a lot longer than that. Now get out of bed and get into a cab and bring me my brief case." The line went dead. Sharon slammed the receiver with the hook. "Jesus fucking Christ," she moaned, "if I had plague he'd make me come in there." She climbed out of bed and dressed herself in pajamas and a robe. She didn't bother locking up the house. She took the brief case, tied her robe shut, and strutted down to the corner, a fairly major boulevard where, in bathrobe and pajamas she hailed a cab.

In the back of the cab, having given the cabbie directions to her father's office, Sharon spread her legs out. She reached down between her loins and hoped the cabbie couldn't see what she was doing. "Fuck," she murmured to herself as she discovered her still erect clitoris. "This is going to be alright after all." With her free hand she lifted her father's attache case over her lap and used it for camouflage. She rubbed her cunt with the satchel sitting on her knees. "Mmmmm," she hummed softly, and soon the happy image of the Monster Man and his magic flesh wand came back to mind. She saw him sharpening the tip of his flesh sword, honing it into a fine ready blade with which he was going to puncture her virgin ribbon. She spread her legs and yelled at him: "Come on you mother fucker and stuff me up good! Give it to me hard so I can have me some memories to tell the Grand kids, eh? Ha, ha, ha. Come on and fuck me, Monster Man. Or is that meat of yours better called Monster Midget Meat? Ho, ho, ho..." He came at her with his flesh cock ready to cut her up good. He stuffed her with it by spreading her legs with his hands and entering her in one long stroke. He jammed down deep and filled her to the gills. She rolled and rocked and twisted around on the impaling giant's sword. She was pinned down like a cute little earthworm with nowhere to go. From now on she would be nothing but bait...

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the Handprick Building where Mr. Pettibone worked. Sharon, coming to from her backseat bliss, handed the cabbie a fiver and told him to sit tight. The cabbie, no dummy, smiled, winked, and waited. Sharon took the elevator upstairs.

On the fiftieth floor a guard asked Sharon "What the hell are you doing going around in a bathrobe, young lady?" She smiled, turned her back on him, and pulled up the back of her robe, and let down her pajama bottoms in order to give the aged guard a look-see at her rear hole. "I'm going for a stroll," she shouted at him looking upside down from between her legs. The guard grabbed his chest, heaved backwards as though he'd been shot at close range and fell over. Sharon stood up and continued on her way to her father's office.

"Mmm," she said, entering the door marked PETTIBONE, "something smells good in here..." The secretary and a delivery boy disengaged. They had been French kissing over the secretary's typewriter when Sharon entered. "Ahem, yes, ahem," coughed the secretary, "Miss Pettibone, may I help you?" The messenger took a seat off to the side. Sharon couldn't help but eyeball the young man's tumescent crotch. "Well, yes," she said, sitting down next to the messenger and putting the attache case on her lap, "I have a parcel for my Daddy." She smiled demurely and when the secretary looked the other way she reached over into the messenger's groin. "Just testing," she said. "Mmm, nice and firm. See ya," and with that she stood up and smiled, having teased the man nicely, ready now to move on with the day's business. She turned back to the startled and frustrated youth and said: "I'd go all the way but I got SWINE FLU!" The boy backed into a corner and covered his mouth: "Get away!" he shrieked. "Get away you wench! Are you trying to kill me? Get away!" Sharon coughed and the lad nearly struck her down. He would have, too, were it not for the fact that just then Mr. Pettibone came from his office and strutted out with a bright cherry smile and said: "Where's the case, Sharon?" Sharon lifted the case, and, without saying even one single word to her father (He had, after all, ruined her masturbatory day.) she turned and marched, still in her bathrobe and pajamas, out of the office. "Feel better, darling," shouted her father after her, but the office door was already swinging shut.

In the hallway, a great many people were gathered around the guard who had fallen to the floor. Now he was just coming to when Sharon happened by on her way out of the building. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she walked by, and the guard nodded and then started to say, "That's her!" But before he could finish his sentence, Sharon had pulled open her robe and spread her jamies so that her big left tit blazed in a flash of creamy flesh which caused the guard to pass out again. He grabbed his chest and flopped down, this time dead.