or Harping with Kenny

© 2000

Mistake number one, answering the door.

There was one of each outside my apartment. The blonde was blonde (Do I have to spell out what I mean?) with largish tits that were crowned with nipples the size of a sewing thimble. The brunette wore her hair short around her shoulders and pushed back behind her earlobes. The redhead was tall and thin, with freckles in all the important places freckles like to hang out. The black girl was the colour of fine dark chocolate. The Asian girl had the small, just-a- mouthful breasts that I crave the most. Each stood in the hall without a stitch of clothing, hands behind her back.

I slammed the door shut.

Okay, I know I'm loco, but women are not known for waiting outside my door, even with clothes on. To see five attractive young women outside my door was a shock to my system. To see five attractive, naked young women outside my door was proof positive that my system was out of order and maybe even out to lunch.

I looked through the peephole.

I saw five naked women arranged in two ranks, tallest in back, shortest in front. All looked at the door expectantly. I went "Erp" (a normal thing to do when one realizes that one has finally gone out of his freaking gourd) and against my better judgment (SOP) opened the door.

"Hello," they chanted together, "Mr. Gamera."

"Erp!"

I slammed the door shut.

I began to shake.

I continued to doubt my sanity.

I opened the @#&*$% door again.

Each held out her right hand. In her grip was a six pack of beer. A really good beer of Irish origin. If a certain whiskey is my darling, then that beer is my sweetheart.

"We brought beer," they chanted in chorus, "Mr. Gamera."

I slammed the door shut.

I began to shake.

Violently.

There was a soft tap on the door. I tried to resist, but I could not. I was trapped in some horrible spell. 'This is just a weird dream you are having, ' I told myself as my hand reached for the door handle.

I peeped around the crack I had made in the door. Again, there were the five girls, each a different flavour. Still, each held out a six pack of beer. I felt my will crumbling. Then I heard it - the crinkling sound of cellophane packaging, as each moved her left hand from behind her back.

"We brought pork rinds," they chanted as one voice, "Mr. Gamera."

I was theirs.

The second mistake - letting them in.

The cats did the sensible thing; they were under the futon hiding. I laid on top of it, my head resting in the lap of the ample blonde. The brunette held a pint glass of lager for me to sip while the Asian girl placed porkrinds into my mouth. The black girl and the redhead played tongue hockey on my dick. My hands were like Caesar - just a roamin'.

Like an idiot, I thought I was in heaven.

After a moment, the two feeding me traded with the two eating me. I got to enjoy the new sensations of different talents. The redhead had concentrated on the head of my dick while the black girl had paid greater attention to the shaft. The Asian, however, went straight to my balls. The brunette, well, she went straight to work. On the first try, she swallowed me, and I darn near choked on the porkrind the redhead had popped into my mouth. The blonde kissed my forehead and wiped the crumbs of deep fried pig's skin from my cheeks with the back of her hand. No one offered me anything else as the two between my legs finished their task at hand.