Part 2

12. The Day Following the Night Before

Early the next afternoon I awoke to the strident tone of my doorbell.

I had been dreaming the dreams of the fully satiated, i.e.; my R.E.M.'s were devoted to pure fornication. (How can I describe pure fornication? Hey, I'm trying my best. Ya don't like it, dream your own dreams. I'm busy lying my ass off here, tryin' to get everybody strokin' in 1 - 2 time.)

Noting the room was filled with an abundance of daylight and that I was still exhausted (do you burn calories up having wet dreams?

Anybody out there into this dream stuff feel free to email me with the facts. (The_panda@hotmail.com )

I risked opening my eyes a little wider and glancing at my watch, heard myself muttering, "God, it's 1:30," I hobbled out of bed, reached for my terry-cloth robe and headed for the door.

Waiting patiently for me on the other side in the brilliant sunshine was Helen. She looked, ummmm, dare I say it? Yeah... she looked good enough to eat. (I made a mental note to try thinking about other things, and perhaps I will -- later.) I was hungry, but confused as to whether I craved food or sex. I gazed hungrily at Helen as she stood there. (I think I knew which appetite was in control of my libido).

"Good day to you kind sir." She was positively beaming at me. "I've lost my way, could you possibly allow me to rest my weary bones inside?"

I wrenched my eyes away from those emerald eyes of hers and took a closer look at those weary bones. She was wearing a blackberry stretch velvet polo, whose spandex material caused it to cling to her body like a second skin. And as my weary eyes regained their focusing abilities, I glanced further down and took in the black leather pants, also tight in all the right places; I recall seeing boots too, I remember this only because I envisioned difficulty in getting them off. In short, Helen was a vision. She was a sexual vision. A veritable cosmetic marvel considering last night's activities.

Bubba, my weary-bone-jumping friend was already randy, gassed up and raring to go.

Oh well, several hours had passed since he was last wide-awake.

Helen glanced down smiled at Bubba and said, "Hello my phallic fuckin' friend."

"Come on in", I said, feeling somewhat like the spider talking to Little Miss Muffet. (Little did I know what designs Helen had on me. I should have, she was already talking dirty to me.)

Moving quickly into my great room, Helen surveyed the place, nodded with satisfaction that I had managed to keep it moderately clean, (I hadn't spent much time there lately) before turning to me and say, "I'm still SO hot from last night. It was fabulous wasn't it? Anne left about an hour ago. We had one last round in the shower before that though. Oh, lover, I'm still tingling." Sucking in her breath, Helen raised her hands to her chest and slowly began caressing her breasts. The nipples jumped up sizzling like burnt toast from a toaster. I bet myself they were hotter than toast right now. My old military training kicked in and I remembered to breathe again.

Helen started squeezing her right nipple with her left hand - rolling it between her thumb and forefinger -- while her right hand slowly unzipped those tight leather pants enough to permit its passage to an area suspiciously near her groin. Pure lust was reflected in her hooded green eyes. She started licking her lips. God, it was stimulating just standing there watching her. I hadn't realized her tongue was that long. I was frozen in place, my jaw open, like an idiot. I kept breathing though, albeit at a faster clip. Finally, I managed to blurt out "Good morning to you too."

Apparently that did not register with Helen. She may have been thinking along other lines, because she asked: "Whatcha got on under the robe mister?"

I tried to put my stupor behind me (but it still stuck out quite a bit) and stammered "You, you know damn well what's under me kilts," I replied, "a tired, gnarled, shrived up little prick."

Helen sank to her knees and leaving her nipples to fend for themselves, reached inside my robe. Bubba was in there salivating, very anxious to greet her.

"Ummmm," she said, "He doesn't look tired, or shriveled at all. In fact, he looks... " and Helen's lips closed down upon ole Bubba -- and a most satisfied sound emenated from her clogged larynx. "Ummmm, slurp, umphh, ughh, tcchhh, slurp, ummmmmm! Her right hand began moving faster inside those black leather pants.

Trying to be as helpful as possible I critiqued Helen. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, didn't your mother ever teach you anything?" My legs were about to betray me. "I need to sit down," I croaked feebly, and took a step to my left. With a soft pop, Bubba left Helen's mouth; I located the easy chair and plopped down.

Helen, still on her knees, shuffled after me. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked.

A pensive,"Noooo," was all I could manage.

"Ummmmm," Helen murmured demurely, taking Bubba back into her mouth as if he were the most delicious morsel at a buffet. Two languid sucks and Bubba went from a semi-state of limpidness to a fully engorged, All-American rock hard cock.

Helen, apparently satisfied with this transformation, resumed gently licking Bubba's underside (it's my best side too). "I'll mmifff norr brrfffst nin minute," was what I thought she said as Bubba plunged down her throat. (I want the reader to understand that I did contribute to the dialogue in this scene; I just had to wait for my turn. Surely you understand my character in this little play was virtually speechless -- that is, until -- ahhhh! Finally, I received my cue and spoke my opening lines like the pro that I am.)

"Yes baby... Keep doing that... Just like that... Yessssss, ohhhhh, suck harder baby, faster, faster..." I crooned to into her ear. Slowly I eased her leather pants down past her calves. I crammed my hand into one leg of her black laced panties. Helen was now slowly stoking her clit with one hand while holding Bubba firmly in the other. I volunteered two fingers and her copiously wet, fevered snatch absorbed them so easily, I sent another two into the mysterious folds of her cunt. Helen reacted to my attentions by once again allowing Bubba to see daylight through his pre-com-clogged eye. It was a bleary world he saw as lost his balance, flipping and flopping; wavering a bit to the left, seeking the warm, wet refuge he had lost moments ago. Helen yanked her panties down and gave me much needed instructions. (Damn it! I'd left my manual at Helen's.)

"There... ! Yes! Oh, yes there! Baby... Do that! Oh fuck! Honey, just a little faster, ummmmmmm. Yeah!"

Gyrating her pelvic region like a washing machine gone mad; her fingers squeezing her breasts, then pinching her nipples, she moaned deliriously, completely enthralled in sex crazed lust. Bubba was forgotten for the moment. Helen decided to help her cause even more by issuing further instructions to me.

"No, Baby, don't stop! Ohhhh! Yes, yes... Yes! Fuck me, honey... fuck your honey.

Well, what virile young man wouldn't respond to a damsel in distress? I wan'cha to know, when my Helen needs me, I'm there for her. As quickly as I could I removed my fingers and inserted Bubba. Yes, and there too.

"Ohhhhh", Helen cried out as Bubba slid down the chute of love. "Yeah! Yeah!

There... Oh, like that! Yesss! Lover, just do that - Uuunngghhhhh! I'm gonna cum!

Oh, fuck, I'm almost there, oh lover slam it to me! Gimme cock! Gimme cock! Fuck it to me! Now, now! For fuck's sake!"

"I'm cuming, I'm cuming! I'm there! Ohhhh! I'm there lover! I'm there!... uuunghhhh... ! Unghh! Oh, sweetheart! -- Drive it home! Yessss! Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh! -- Sooo deep!"

Suddenly, using that timeless woman's prerogative, Helen switched gears, momentarily confusing the hell out of me. "No! No! No! I want your cock in my mouth! In my mouth! Cum in my mouth Lover!"

Being a compliant guy, I shifted position, Helen scooped Bubba up to her lips and promptly devoured him. Now all those years of method acting lessons paid off. I recited my lines flawlessly, just like Brando would have. "Ohhhhh, suck me harder baby, faster, faster..."

I whispered to her.

I felt the sperm train roaring into the station.

"Mmmmmmffffff, umphhh, ummmmmm!"

I guess that was Helen calling out the station, upstaging me again. (She's turned out to be a shameless ad-libber, never follows the script.)

Helen made a gurgling, swallowing sound, followed by the appearance (from stage left) of a now useless Bubba. This time he was shriveled and gnarled.

I received a sensual smile from Helen, who opened her mouth to speak, allowing some cum to trickle out the side of her mouth.

"Kith me do fool," she lisped. Laughing, I followed orders and tasted myself as Helen politely deposited a good portion of Bubba's kick-a-poo joy juice in my mouth. I'd known I'd be eating soon, but could have sworn it would be animal, vegetable, or even Helen -- I never thought it would be me.

"Ummmmmmm, savory -- a bit tart, definitely a good vintage -- a '54 perhaps?"

We lay there on the floor looking at each other and panting heavily. Her hair was disheveled, her swollen lips parted, and I watched as her tongue darted quickly to lick a trace of sperm from her upper lip. Taking her in my arms, I kissed her lovingly, with all the tenderness I could manage.

"I love you Helen."

"Ummmm, me too," she responded.

My hand began to casually rove down her body and discovered her nipples still incredibly erect. I lightly caressed them. Helen, still fully immersed in the after glow of her orgasm, purred contentedly. One hand lay on her stomach not far removed from the auburn patch just above her pubis; the other gently grazed my face. My eyes traversed her marvelous body. Hers were closed. I smiled as I watched her hips twitch spasmodically. Yes I thought smugly to myself, that's the gift that keeps on cuming.

"Am I responsible for this?" she asked demurely, her eyes now wide open in feigned wonderment indicating a flaccid Bubba held loosely in the palm of her hand.

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" I think my stomach said that.

"Ughh! Men!" Helen grunted as she attempted to rise up. I held her back. "Let go, I'm gonna make you something to eat."

"Well in that case, feel free to rise my queen, my beauty, my most bounteous breasted... boy you've got great hooters... have I ever told you..."

Helen, now standing bent over me, the objects of my praise dangled temptingly in front of my face.

"One lick lover, then I'm gone." Helen sighed, and still leaning over my head, held her breasts so they were compressed together. I moved toward the hanging strawberries, taking one in my mouth. It was delicious. Slowly, Helen removed it. My puckered lips made a sad sucking sound. I pouted. Helen's generosity forgotten.

"Sorry James, I really have to pee. Then I'll fix us some breakfast or lunch... I need something more sustaining than another orgasm right now. But we can get back to fooling around later if you like. We've got all day and all night too if we work it right."

That said she walked away, taking her ass and wet pussy with her. I called after her.

"Okay, be sure to wash your hands, I wouldn't want to catch your germs..."

The door didn't exactly slam behind her, but it sure closed quickly. A minute or so later I heard the toilet flush and water running, then the shower. I remained where I was, too tired to move. Moments later, Helen emerged wearing one of my old robes, still drying her hands she walked over to the kitchen counter and sat down.

Leaning her elbow on the counter she looked at the refrigerator and asked," Anything edible inside that thing?"

"Sure I said smiling broadly, I went shopping yesterday just before A, Y & M f'd." A quizzical look crossed Helen's face. (Have I told you what a lovely face it is? Ahhh! Yes it 'tis, a fine face indeed!)

"A, Y & M?"

"Yeah," I countered gleefully, "Anne, you and me fucking."

"Get out of here," she yelped and hit me with a roll of paper towels she heaved at me.

I was getting up anyway and said, "Make yourself comfortable Hon, I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay, I'll scrounge something up from your fridge, we'll have breakfast when you finish.

Twenty minutes later, I strode triumphantly into the kitchen wearing my robe over a pair of clean jockeys. The smell of coffee and cinnamon wafted through the air.

"Are you sure you're thoroughly cleansed?" Helen ventured.

"Ahhh, yes," I said giving my best W. C. Fields impersonation. "The great philosophical question: Clean mind, clean body -- take your pick."

"Sit down you fool," she giggled.

I did. It was a round table and we sat opposite one another at first, but I moved closer to Helen and she seemed to blush at my action. What could she be embarrassed about, I wondered.

Helen had set a buffet of sorts for us. A large bowl was filled with sliced strawberries, bananas and cantaloupe. Another bowl was filled with granola. Helen finished pouring out my orange juice and coffee. Famished, I began eating in earnest. Helen devoured her food even faster then I. Either she knew her body's metabolism extremely well, or no longer had any regard for her figure. Then it occurred to me that hell, we'd burnt a few calories, quite a few calories, last night. And so, swallowing my fourth piece of toast, I refilled both coffee cups, took a sip from mine and brought up the events of last night.

"Luv, last night..."

"Oh, don't remind me," Helen said interrupting me.

I moved my chair a little closer to her.

"You left and we kept going, like the rabbit in the battery commercial... "

"Oh, you two were going like rabbits alright."

"Well you certainly handled yourself like a pro..."

"Correction, I didn't handle myself at all, you two did it for me."

"Well... We aimed to please."

"And you both hit the target each and every time." I was enjoying this inane bantering, it was almost as good as guy, guy bull shit.

Meanwhile, I continued to move my chair little by little, and soon closed the distance between us. Indeed, the two chairs touched, as did our thighs. We both sighed and broke out laughing.

"You pervert," Helen laughed.

"Pervert? Me? I stared into her emerald eyes. She immediately looked down. I reached out with my hand, cupped her chin and pulled it close to me. Then I kissed her.

Helen broke the kiss off, murmuring, "mmmmffffff, Mr. Bubba sir, I shall scream!"

Twirling an imaginary moustache, I retorted, "I certainly hope you do Miss Helen, then and only then shall I be certain I have pleasured you, but in the meantime, you've got your anatomy craving mixed."

"You cad!" Her hands were rising up to her breasts again. (Is that movement some kind of sexual barometer? (Come on reader, help me out here. The_panda@hotmail.com)

"Hey!" I continued, "you see these strawberries?"

"Of course I see the strawberries. What about them?

"I have a distinct memory of you and your lush red lips sucking on Anne's marvelous nipple."

"Ohhh," Helen said, swallowing audibly and clenching her left breast.

"Oh is right," I kept on, taking in the flushed countenance rapidly spreading across her face. "Do you remember when she put her whole hand inside her pussy?" I was almost rambling now, wanting to see where this lead. "My God, Helen that almost set me off."

Helen's hands were now under the table. She had begun frigging herself at a leisurely pace. In an almost inaudible undertone, she murmured, "I did cum, it was incredible."

Trying not to break the delicate mood, but anxious to see more of what was happening below the table, I continued. "She was so hot. Do you remember when she fainted?"

"Ummmm," she answered, eyes closed; her hand -- now visible to me, her movements having parted the robe completely exposing her thighs -- fully immersed inside her panties pistoning in and out at a faster pace. She was obviously reliving some moments of last night.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Oh, God yes!" She panted. Her nostrils were flared -- her chest was now heaving. The odor of her sex was filling the air. Helen's fingers were loudly squishing in her cunt. A creamy froth of tiny white bubbles was oozing out of her cunt and mixing with the damp, reddish mat of hair surrounding it. "Help me with this James," she whimpered, "Please!"

(And now, kind reader, picture me once again twisting my imaginary moustache before rendering a reply.)

"Of course my dear, I wouldn't be left out of this for anything," this said with a touch of sarcasm, since I wasn't responsible for this particular case of the hots. That honor belonged to Anne. That said, I rose from the chair, reached for the fruit bowl and knelt in front of Helen's widely spread thighs. She was plunging four fingers into her cunt, which was a frothy white with her juices. I was not exactly impervious to Helen's situation, in fact I was rarin' to go again.

Deciding we were not in the best location for this activity, I placed my arms under her thighs began to lift her up. "Ugtt, ohhh!" I groaned. Dead weight, c'mon back don't fail me now!

"Hold on to me Helen," I said, my cheeks nestled against her sopping wet hole. "We're going to use the living room chair."

Helen complied and I half carried - half staggered into the next room and gingerly lowered her into the chair. Hurrying, I placed her legs, one on each of the chair's arms. Helen's robe now hung loosely over one shoulder. Her cunt gaped at me. I had never seen it quite like this, so open, so inviting. I wasn't quite finished with my preparations. I went back to the kitchen, shedding my robe and jockeys enroute and retrieved the fruit bowl and a couple towels and returned to the living room where I once again knelt at the altar of love.

I removed Helen's fingers from their gushy nest and licked them clean. Helen keened.

I moved forward, stuck out my tongue and started licking, Helen moaned in pleasure.

Reaching into the bowl at my feet I extracted several strawberries.

"Huh? Wha..." gasped Helen, seemingly in a stupor.

"I'm still hungry love," I replied, shushing her with a kiss and inserting them into her cunt, thereby forcing moisture to seep out. I gently lapped it up.

"Ohhhhhhh, whatever..." she murmured confused by my actions. "Ummmmmm," she sighed.

"Play with your titties baby," I offered. She promptly squeezed one breast and rubbed the other nipple. (For those of you keeping notes, this would be the ringless nipple.)

My tongue pushed the berries deep into her pussy. Helen's hands left her breasts and found my head, pushing my face tighter into her cunt. One nostril was clogged with what I believe was her clit. My tongue never stopped moving. I was crazy to taste her, my tongue was whipping and dancing, up and down, in and out. I paused for a second to catch my breath; swallowed the strawberries and then began to suck at her clitoris.

"Naugh, naugh, naugh," Helen mewed.

Three of my fingers entered her cunt and begin to wiggle and thrust. Then, I trapped Helen's clit between my lips and began to rapidly stroke my tongue back and forth across it. This action sent a jolt of electrical current surging through to Helen's very core. She bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming. Both our bodies were covered with a sheen of perspiration. Suddenly, a clear fluid spurted from her cunt into my mouth, I gagged and almost choked, then against my will I did what 95% of American women don't want to do either -- I swallowed it.

Helen was now whimpering, pleading with me to stop, but I was more familiar with her now.

Instead of ending my cunnilingus rendering, I permitted her to relax for a minute, shifting my mouth's attack to another area of her thigh. I nibbled there until another tactic occurred to me. Wetting the thumb of my free hand I worked it up into her asshole. It moved in easily enough. Helen was totally limp at this point, save an occasional spasmodic shudder. Then I started a circling movement with the thumb. Glancing down, I noticed Bubba was fully erect and throbbing wildly. I returned my concentration to eating Helen's pussy. It was mushy, warm and ready. She was already starting to cum as my tongue wormed its way back into her cunt.

"Ohhh, God! "Ohhh, God! "Ohhh, God! "Ohhhhhhh, God Almighty! I'm cuming, I'm cuming!

Ahhhhhhhhh! Uuughhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhh!" (No dear reader, that wasn't someone knockin' at the door, that was Helen singing the lyrics to the "I'm cuming polka.")

It must have been an extremely intense orgasm because it felt as if it slammed into her like a freight train. One moment she was a dishrag, the next her hips flew off the chair hunching wildly at my face, dislodging it from her cunt in a very unladylike manner. Caught off guard, I chanced to look up. Her hands were busy. The one on the back of my head was slapping me; the other at her mouth was fluttering almost uselessly. Helen's eyes were rolled back -- all I could see were the whites -- in that all to brief moment afforded me to gape. I was enthralled by the power of this orgasm. Her heart was palpitating wildly; she was gasping, straining to catch her breath. Now both hands clasped my head, forcing my face into back onto her cunt. I kept on lickin'. (It's the Timex in me.)

As the throes of her orgasmic release began to wane, (Whew, that's prose? Noooo! Let's edit a bit.) Her orgasm began to subside. (Ahhh, that's better.) Helen suddenly regained her voice.

"Yesss! Ohhhh, lover. Ohhhhh, yes. Ummmmmmmm... ohhhh. you're so sweet."

I rested, laying there, huffing and puffing; taking a moment to wipe the sweat from my eyes and the cum juices from my mouth. Helen's hands were caressing my scrotum; she licked the head of my cock.

"Ooooooo!" I saw sparks!

"Ummmmm, my lover boy, what's the matter pussy got your tongue?" What had we here? Had she shaken off her languid mood? Not quite. She was still charged up from her last orgasm.

"Yummmmm, yummmm, you taste like a real man, honey."

I restrained myself from asking what a fake man tasted like; I didn't want to hear about her fellating a vibrator or dildo. No, this was great stroking for my ego. Especially with the colossal hardon I was sporting.

Moving into the familiar '69' position, I continued with my ministrations to her tender pussy. Lick, lick. Suck, suck. Kiss, kiss. Almost like dancing the waltz. I was creating a new category for the "Battered Woman" syndrome. In this case it was the lip-battered pussy.

(Authors Note: I never hit a woman. Well, maybe a hearty smack on the ass; but that's with a willing wench. Never would I raise a hand in anger towards a woman.)

Helen halted in her attention to Bubba. Turning my head, I peeked back to check her out; her face was flushed -- one hand was back over her mouth, the other covered her eyes shutting out the harsh afternoon light. A single tear of sweat was meandering its way down the valley between her breasts. She moved her hand from her mouth to her ringed nipple and pinched it, eliciting a soft moan. A gentle spasm rolled upwards from her center across her stomach.

"Was it good for you Baby?" I inquired shamelessly, as I gazed now upon her lovely face.

"Ummmmmmmaaaagghhh! You fuuuuckin' know it!" Was her lethargic retort.

"Would you like me to rim your ass Honey? Cause I wanna stick it in there. I'm awful hard and I think your little pussy might be a bit tender right now."

Dreamlike she responded, "Ummmmmm, 'kay. Like last night Hon?"

"Better Baby."

"Ummmmmmm, go for it," the lightest of whispers. Her hand grazed across my back in a tender caress.

I decided to activate plan B before Helen dozed off. Dipping two fingers into her squishy cunt, I began lubricating the rosette guarding her anal canal. Helen's knees were weaving back and forth, so I took hold of them, interrupting their progress. Placing her legs on my shoulders caused Helen to slide towards me, affording me a better target of her hole. Leaning forward, my tongue commenced its initial foray into the black hole of Calcutta. (Okay, Okay. It's either rosy, pink or brown. Hey, gimme some literary license here, willya?)

Helen slouched quietly, in a kind of mild, hazy attentiveness; the excessiveness of her orgasm must have left her weary in exhilarated fulfillment. As the sensations quieted, she twitched sporadically and she gently caressed her nipples, pulling on the ring occasionally and tweaking the other, trying to extract the utmost from her satisfaction.

Tears of joy filled my eyes as I watched contentedly as an another series of tremors enveloped her. Helen grunted, "Ungh, Unghh," totally satisfied. Good, that was my signal to begin another assault. But before I did, Helen surprised me by speaking of Anne.

In a soft monotone, Helen asked: "Do you recall what Anne said last night. I mean about when we first met her at the restaurant? How I suggested she come with me to the ladies room so I could help her dry her pussy? How she came at that very suggestion?"

I halted my tongue's probing long enough to tell her I certainly recalled that Kodak moment among several others and then resumed a languid, soft kissing of her anus.

"Well," Helen continued, "when we got to the ladies room it was empty. We soul-kissed and started dry-humping each other. I couldn't wait any longer and told her to sit on the counter and spread her legs..."

Helen noticed what I was up to and casually remarked: "Ohhhh, that's nice lover, feels soooo good, please don't stop." And then she continued with her monologue.

"She did, hoisting up her skirt to her hips as she complied. I pulled her panties to one side and tongued the shit out of her. She came so quickly I couldn't believe it. Anne wasn't kidding when she said she was hot. I tugged her off the counter and led her into a cubicle. I sat down on the toilet and she knelt down and ate me out. I was cuming when my ass hit the seat. She brought me off three times before we heard someone else enter the room. Whoever it was paid no attention to us. Of course we stopped what we were doing. When she left, we straightened ourselves out and returned to your table. I have to confess to you, I wanted her so much... "

She began to cry. "I was a bad girl." Helen curled up into a fetus-like position.

I tried to console her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Helen began to sob.

Most guys feel utterly useless at times like these. We can't really do anything but hold the woman and say something inane like, "there, there, it'll be alright." The funny thing is that's the right thing to do and say. It's the offer of comfort, or in this instance the forgiveness I bestowed that she had feared I wouldn't grant.

"You don't understand," she sobbed, " I turned you away that night because I was bringing Anne over. I wanted her for myself." Now her nose was running too. I dabbed it with the sleeve of my robe.

I had suspected as much, but really didn't care, especially since both girls had shared so much with me last night. I mean I'm all for a little indiscretion as long as it is really indiscreet. Now that it was out in the open, I told Helen emphatically that I'd guessed that to be the case and that I forgave her and Anne too. I didn't believe in keeping score in these matters, but expected to wander astray on occasion myself.

"Oh! Oh! Oh... Of course you can. I... I... never meant to restrict you Honey."

"Hey! Honey," coming right back at her, "I'm basically a one-woman guy. And you're that woman. But, every once in a while I'll be tempted. You know variety for the sake of it, no attachment..." My voice croaked. Was I really saying this? Was I going to get away with it? Not quite it appeared.

Wiping away the last of her tears Helen sniffed, "And... on those occasions when I get an itch you won't mind if I let someone else scratch it for me either, will ya lover?"

There was just a touch of venom in this last. I decided right then that Robert Rouak was wrong in his 1960's hypothesis that women are driven blindly by their cunts, not their minds or other hungers. Everyone is manipulated to some degree by their sexual drives, but factors like greed, envy, or love and human kindness are primary motivators as often as one's sexual appetite. For the record, I know that men are guided by their pricks into some very interesting and often embarrassing situations. Guided being the operational word here.

(Panel discussion readers?

"Okay... You Sir, in the third row, wearing the plaid shirt."

"Oh? Who the hell is Robert Rouak? Look it up! "

"Yes... the lady with the leather mask. No! No! Not you in the Donald Duck mask... the leather mask. Yes, Yes madam?"

"What's a hypothesis? It's an extra gland at the end of a horse's dick!"

"Where did this crowd come from?" "I'll try one more."

"The gentleman with the tophat on. Is that a beaver hat? It is? Where the hell did you come by it? Never mind... your question Sir?"