NICOLE

So there I was, laying on my bed, naked, my face oozing sex. My upper body rested on my elbows, causing my 36D's to hang down toward my stomach. My feet were drawn in toward my body, toward my ass actually, ankles touching each other and my knees spread as wide as they could go without causing pain. Bright red finger nails highlighted the hands holding my pussy lips spread wide open, pink and shiny from my lubrication. My snatch had been bald since around my sixteenth birthday.

Gary, my husband, stood naked between my legs at the foot of the bed. His tight fist held his eight inches, which were firm and ready to fuck, with a drop of his clear pre-cum oozing out of his piss slit. Gary is the country's premier publisher of skin magazines, and the trash supports us very nicely. My pose was reminiscent of the first time I had appeared in one of the magazines, Stroke Over This, which he had finally let me appear in when I reached eighteen.

Except that in the magazine picture my pussy and face had been daubed with watered-down hand cream, to make it look like cum. Gary was too cheap to pay a bunch of guys for real cum, and didn't have the stamina to himself produce enough for any one issue.

It was March 17th: St. Paddy's Day. My birthday and also my wedding anniversary.

Exactly thirty-one years earlier, on my fifteenth birthday:

I was in a bar in Palm Beach. Are you familiar with Palm Beach? It's a small enclave on the ocean in southeast Florida. There's more money there than in the rest of the state of Florida combined. OK, so I exaggerate, but you get the idea. Palm Beach is on the east side of the Intra-Coastal Waterway, separated by a bridge or two from the City of West Palm Beach, which is a nice enough place but the people don't have quite the same amount of money. West Palm is more diverse, with money but also with trailer parks. I lived in one of those trailer parks, with my Momma and my brother Timmy, who's three years older than me. And hung like a stallion.

For my birthday, Momma agreed to allow Timmy to drive me and a couple of friends over the bridge to Palm Beach. She knew that we'd be going bar hopping. She took one look at my bare belly button and my short, tight shorts and gave me the most profound bit of advice that she could muster.

"Don't come home pregnant, Nicole." Well, since she'd had me on The Pill since my thirteenth birthday, with good reason (she'd found Timmy's cock in my mouth), coming home pregnant wasn't much of a risk.

The bar was an upscale place, which I guess is sort of redundant, because they simply don't allow downscale anything in Palm Beach. It was noisy and smoky. I drank, I smoked and I danced with several guys, chest rubbing and ass grabbing close. Some of them were a little older than me and some were married guys who didn't even bother to take off their wedding rings. Then Gary came into my life.

Handsome enough though kind of overweight, Gary oozed money out of every pore. He culled me out of the crowd at the bar as easily as a cowboy culls a Doggie out of a herd for branding. He didn't even ask my name, simply whispering to me, "How would you like to make five hundred dollars for a massage, just a massage, nothing else?"

Now, five hundred dollars for the daughter of a trailer trash Momma was a lot of fucking money. Also, I didn't know shit about massaging. On the other hand, I knew just what a guy meant when he said 'nothing else' and I had a lot of experience doing 'nothing else', though never for money. A quick nod and he took me by the elbow, leading me out the side door. I didn't even say so long to my friends; all of us were on our own. Gary nodded to the valet but didn't give him any stub. The valet just walked to the corner of the building and waved.

In mere seconds, a white stretch limo turned the corner and pulled up alongside us.

"You hired a limo to go to a bar?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I own it."

Without waiting for the driver, he opened a rear door for me. As I crawled in, Gary put a hand on my ass, fingers reaching to my crotch, and pushed me inside. Then he followed me in and sat next to me. As the car began to move, without instruction, Gary took my hand and put it into his lap. I held out my other hand, palm up. He looked at me with surprise on his face, which then changed to a sneer. He reached for his wallet and counted out five crisp new one hundred dollar bills.

"Here, cunt."

Fuck you, prick, I thought to myself as I pocketed the money. Then I began the massage. My fingers worked on his zipper, then began to insinuate themselves inside his slacks. I knew that he really didn't want a full-body massage, that he just wanted me to work on his six, no make that seven, holy shit, he's got eight inches of cock. He smiled as he watched me realize the full size of that piece of meat as I pulled it out into the darkness of the back seat.

I knelt on the floor between his legs. My fingers began the desired massage as I stroked Gary with a full fist, my hand pulling toward my face. That didn't keep him happy for very long. Soon I felt his hand on the back of my head, pressing my face down toward his phallic monster. It seemed — why wasn't I surprised — that Gary wanted my mouth to do the next bit of massaging. And make no mistake about it; my mouth knew just what to do, and loved it, as it loves it to this very day. The only problem was that he insisted on leaving his pants belted on, so all I had to work on was his shaft and crown; his nuts were unavailable for my services.

I licked off the drop of pre-cum that I could barely see as the limo passed under the street lights. Next my tongue swished around Gary's crown, my mouth sucking back in the saliva that my tongue had deposited there. I tried to lick his shaft but I couldn't get its full length so I gobbled down what was accessible and began to suck. That didn't last very long because the limo glided to a stop and Gary pulled my hair, yanking my head off of his cock.

"Let's finish this inside the house," he said. Though he said it politely, it sounded like a command, like he was calling me a cunt again. The whole scene was weird. I mean, what guy stops a girl in the middle of a blow job just to go inside a house? And didn't he think that I was enjoying it as much as he was?

The driver opened the door for us. He never even glanced at Gary's cock, swinging in the breeze. Instead he stared at my tits, though they were chastely hidden from his view. I looked around. By Palm Beach standards, the house was simply a mini-mansion, but to a girl from across the Intra-Coastal, and a trailer park no less, it was like the Taj Mahal. Gary led me up the curved stairway while the driver garaged the limo. I looked at Gary; he read my mind.

"No, the driver's not part of our deal," he assured me. "Unless you want him, of course," he added with a Santa Claus twinkle in his eye. I didn't, especially for free.

The interior of the house was posh. I could see the feminine touch there. I asked about a wife — I didn't care if it offended or embarrassed him — and he told me more than I really wanted to know. His wife had been offended by his porn business and had run off with his then-lawyer. She had left behind a four year old daughter, Katie, who Gary was raising with the aid of a Nanny. The daughter was too young to know about his business and the Nanny was an old prune that he had no interest in fucking. She knew all about his fucking around but was too good at her job to say anything to little Katie.

I'm really sorry that I asked, I thought. I've got your money, now let's fuck. My head spun as I had that thought. Never in a million years could I have imagined myself taking money from some rich guy for doing what I always happily did for free.

The bedroom had one of those round beds that you see in some television programs about those love nests in the Poconos; they're in Pennsylvania. With his cock still flopping around, Gary fell back onto the bed and spread his legs for me. This time I would not be deterred and I insisted on pulling down his slacks and shorts.

I began to jerk him off again while my mouth licked and gummed his nuts. My free hand went under his sac and my middle finger started to rub his asshole, though I didn't stick it in. Suddenly...

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he moaned.

I understood the sound; I had heard it often enough when I had a cock in my mouth or pussy. My mouth began to move toward his crown. His first spurt caught me on the cheek before my lips engulfed him, catching the rest of his cum on my tongue. I swallowed what I had caught; I've always been a swallower. Except for that first time, of course, when I spit, only to receive a lecture from my brother Timmy. What had hit my cheek dripped down onto my blouse. I knew that Momma would notice it when I got home, but she'd seen it often enough not to be surprised anymore.

"Damn, you are one hot cunt, girl. Nobody's ever gotten me off that fast before." He meant it as a compliment and I accepted it with a proud smile.

"How old are you anyway, Nicole?"

"I'm fifteen today," I responded. What the fuck, there was nothing to be gained by lying to him.

"You're fucking jail bait," he said without surprise.

"You may as well enjoy it then." As I said it, I began to strip. He lay there quietly as I showed him for the first time my tits and my snatch. I put one leg up on the bed so that he could see my gaping slit. "Here it is, Gary; have fun with it."

He slid one finger inside me. "You're not cherry," he said, in an almost bored tone.

"Well, if that's a problem, you may as well take me home right now."

He got up and made us both Bloody Marys. I guess that after being blown by a fifteen year old, he figured that she was old enough to drink. Sure, cum, vodka, same thing, both tasteless, only one is gooey. He didn't need to think about the other one loosening inhibitions, because I was as loose as he could handle anyway. Then he asked me a bunch of stupid questions about school, interspersed with bragging about his porn magazine business. It really didn't take that long before he was hard again.

Then it was time for another massage. No mouth or hands that time, pussy muscles only. I'd had eight inches inside me before, though never from a white guy. Gary slammed it into me and my cunt opened up to welcome him. He was like all the others, trying to cum as quickly as he could without bothering to worry about me. Fortunately though, his cock was fat enough to rub my clit as he pronged me, and I had my orgasm just as his cum began to slosh around inside me.

An hour later, we had our first test. Gary tried to turn me over so that I could massage his cock with my sphincter. I refused.

"My Momma told me never to give up my asshole on a first date." The remark may have surprised him, but it was true. He narrowed his eyes.

"What makes you think that there'll be a second date?" he asked.

"First of all, I'll bet that you haven't fucked a fifteen year old girl since you were fifteen yourself. Secondly, you can't remember when you've had a wilder piece of ass." I didn't think that was true, but figured that a guy getting laid forgets all the others for the time being. Then I added my final remark.

"And third, that's the only way you'll ever get to fuck me in the ass."

We fucked twice more that night. When I went to pee, I was bowlegged. At seven in the morning, Gary drove me home in his convertible. I could see his eyes widen as I directed him toward our trailer. Momma was standing in front by the door, with her latest trash stud standing next to her. You can't imagine how I used to hate the sound of them fucking on the other side of that thin wall while I tried to fall asleep.

Anyway, before I could open the car door to get out, Gary pulled me toward him and kissed me. It was the first time we'd kissed all night.

"What was that for, Gary?"

"I like you, little cunt. Give me a call."

Momma didn't have to ask where I had been all night. She just stared at the snazzy convertible driving away and asked for all the details. I gave them to her, more information than most girls would ever give to their mothers, especially with the mother's low-life boyfriend hanging around. When I was finished, she summed up her feelings quickly.

"Dumb cunt! You should have insisted on at least a thousand." After a slight pause, she rephrased it. "Dumb trailer trash cunt!"

As I walked into the trailer, I was thinking the same thing about her.

Exactly thirty years and one month earlier:

I did call Gary back. The first thing he wanted to know was whether or not I was going to let him fuck me in the ass. What the hell, I had given up that cherry over a year earlier. We became a regular couple, Gary squiring me around all the 'in' bars, taking me on vacations to New York, Las Vegas, Hawaii, any place that I didn't need a passport. He dressed me up real 'purty'. In return, I cleaned his pipes for him at least twice a day, any way he wanted it. I spent four nights out of five in his mansion. I stopped going to school altogether. Momma didn't care, and the school administrators never missed me. I mean, if I had been fucking one of the teachers, like many of the other girls, they might have cared. But I never gave a damn what kind of marks I got, and I had enough cocks to fuck without needing any teachers. Gary didn't pay me for those massages anymore, but since I was almost living with him, it didn't matter. I also sort of became a big sister or step-mother to little Katie.

Don't misunderstand. I never thought that I was Gary's only cunt. He traveled often without me, getting off with some of the models in his various magazines. That was OK by me; I never promised him fidelity either. I always had my brother to service me back in the trailer, plus a bunch of the guys from my old school.

Momma of course was hoping for me to marry Gary some day and take her out of the trailer park into a life of luxury. She was always mentioning it. Then one day she came up with her bright idea. We kicked it around quite a bit. It was a gamble, a big gamble, but you have to gamble big to win big.

"Gary, honey, I've missed my period twice now."

We had most of the angles covered. If he went ballistic, I would promise to get an abortion the following day, and he'd never know that I wasn't pregnant at all. If he accepted the pregnancy, I'd wait a few weeks and then have a make-believe miscarriage. Either way, no fetuses would be harmed in the performance of my charade. The one real risk was that he would be so angry at my stupidity in becoming pregnant that he would throw me out of his house altogether.

But it worked. Maybe Gary was finally ready for a full time mother for Katie, or maybe he was afraid of going to prison for fucking a fifteen year old girl, but it worked.

"Let's get married then, Nicole."

Momma was as happy as a pig in shit.

Exactly thirty years and one hour earlier:

My birthday and my wedding day, all wrapped up in one. I was now sixteen, and Momma had signed off on the marriage license. Gary's lawyer was a Notary, and those people are allowed to perform marriages in Florida.

I was in one of the guest rooms in the mansion, with Momma, getting ready to become Gary's bride. I was stripped down to bare pussy, about to begin to get dressed, with Momma's finger busy trying to get me off before the ceremony. The door opened without a knock. Gary and his lawyer walked in. The lawyer began to stare at my shiny pussy but I ignored him.

"Hi Gary. What's up?" I asked.

It was the lawyer who answered. "I've prepared a pre-nuptial agreement that we'd like you to sign."

"Now? Today?" Momma screamed, looking at Gary.

Gary didn't answer. He just looked toward his lawyer, who spoke again. "No signature, no ceremony."

Well, there was a little bit of screaming and then we read the agreement. It gave me shit if I divorced Gary, shit if he divorced me, and shit if he died while we were still married. We threw them out of the room so that we could discuss it ourselves. Bottom line, I already had shit; I would be giving up nothing but gaining a husband. If I ever met someone else, it wouldn't cost me anything to split.

I signed, seething inside, knowing that it also wouldn't cost me a thing to make fucking Gary's life miserable.

The next thirty years:

Thirty years of marriage had been good. Gary fucked many of his whore models, and I fucked whoever I could, but all was done with knowledge of the other. Well, mostly, anyway.

Despite our closeness in ages, I raised Katie as though she were my own daughter. And just like my own sainted Momma, I taught Katie how to munch carpet when she was about twelve. Gary knew about that, but, living by his own strange moral code, never laid a finger on her himself. When she finally hit eighteen, she and I posed for the inaugural issue of Gary's new Muff Divin'. That magazine was an instant success, catering as it did both to lesbians and to guys whose ultimate thrill was seeing two women eat each other out.

Even before that, little Katie had turned into a wild slut, which was no surprise, given her Daddy's type of publications. She ultimately wound up getting herself knocked up. When she started roaming the world as a leg-spreading courtesan, that gave me a replacement baby to raise. His name is Danny. He's the love of my life. You'll read more about him shortly.

The porn business boomed. Gary finally tore up the pre-nup when the tax laws of the various states where he had offices justified putting a good deal of his wealth into my name.

But I never forgave him for pulling that pre-nup shit on me an hour before we were supposed to be married.

Back to the beginning of the story:

As Gary moved forward to slam his eight inches into me, I reached up and pulled his head down.

"Eat me," I commanded. This was not unusual, and Gary showed the faintest smile as he realized what I wanted. He began to lick my slit, alternating swipes of his tongue with gentle kisses. Once he started to tongue-fuck me, I gave him the signal.

"Here it is, Gary."

Right after we were married, and still angry as hell at that stunt he had pulled with his fucking lawyer — who by the way tried to get into my pants but I wouldn't give him the time of day — I figured to start getting even. He was eating me, something I never had any trouble getting him to do, when I suddenly grabbed his head and pulled his face tight against my pussy. Then I unloaded three hours worth of accumulated piss.

As I let go, I thought I was committing the ultimate insult. I had never done that before to anyone, nor had I allowed it to happen to me. But who would have thought that Gary would love to drink at the yellow fountain. When I had emptied my bladder, he continued to suck at me as though he was using a straw, trying to get every last drop out of the bottom of a glass.

"Thank you, Nicole. How'd you know that I love that?"

I struggled to keep the amazement out of my face. His question was rhetorical; he didn't expect an answer. I smiled to avoid uttering the insult that I felt he deserved, cringing internally at the thought that he might try to kiss me before he used some mouthwash. Fortunately though, Gary's idea of fucking didn't include making love, and kisses didn't play a large part in our bed routine.

Then Gary moved up between my legs and shoved his eight inches into me. I relaxed my elbows and laid down flat. I clasped my hands under my head and stared up at the ceiling as he thrust into me. That show of boredom, I realized, was truly the ultimate insult.

DANNY

I stood in front of her mirror, my eyes staring back at me. Who are you, Danny, I asked myself silently, and what the fuck is wrong with you. I'm just me, I replied in my head, and there's nothing wrong with me. I just like to jerk off a lot, and I like to watch myself when I do it.

Although my hair was visible, my eyes were the only exposed part of my face. The rest was hidden like some Middle Eastern virgin. It hurt when I thought that, reminding myself that I was just a Southeastern virgin, Palm Beach, Florida to be precise.

What was hiding my face was my left hand, holding a pair of pink lace panties to my nose while my right hand was busy with the job it had been born to do, slowly stroking my dick. I glanced down at it with pride. A full six inches it is, able to spit out my creamy stuff twice a day at least, usually three. Oh sure, I know that Gary's dick is eight inches, but he's older than me. And he says that size doesn't matter, but I think he's just being kind to me, because he doesn't have to worry about size.

Gary did promise me that when I'm eighteen he'll use my dick in Long Dong. Like most of the stuff Gary publishes, he tries for a wide audience. He says that Long Dong, which has pictures of dicks only, rarely two in one shot, appeals to straight women who like to look at them and also to gay men. When he first mentioned it to me, I said that I wasn't big enough, but he said that it didn't matter. With a digital photo and a skilled computer operator, they could make me look like a monster.

And anyway, there's nothing I can do about it. I get these spam emails all the time for penis enlargement but I'm sure they're just bullshit. And anyway, if I ever ordered them, I'd shit if someone else in the house saw the package when the mailman delivered it. Besides, when I'm on the computer, I'm looking for cunt to jerk off to, not crap to send money for.

When you come to think of it, other than never having gotten laid, the real problem of my life was not being able to drag my computer into the bathroom so I could look at the cunt movies while I watch myself jerk off. Well, maybe for my next birthday I'll get a laptop. As it is, now I have to look at a magazine when I'm flogging the old log. Unless of course there's a fresh pair of dirty panties in her hamper.

I stop and think that Katie — I barely know her well enough to call her Mom — used to put her dirty panties in that hamper. Or maybe in some predecessor hamper. I hardly ever see her any more. I know that she's traveling around the world with some guy or another, probably fucking any guy with a dick. My guess is that most of the panties that she dumped into that hamper had cum stains on them from where the stuff leaked out of her. There are a couple of pictures of her floating around the house. The only ones I like though are the double page spread in Muff Divin' where she and Nicole are eating each other out.

I know, I know, she is my mother, but that ass of hers is so ripe, I just want to shove my dick right up there, all the way to her mouth. And that shot of her bald pussy, glistening wet lips as she's about to sit on Nicole's face, is to die for. And I can never get over those luscious tits with her eraser sized nipples sticking out waiting to be sucked. I know that I was breast fed but the fucking shame of it is that I just can't remember latching on to those mammas. To think that Katie was only three or four years older than I am now. She's had a lifetime of fucking and I've just had a lifetime of spanking my monkey.

Yeah, you're right, I've left a lot of my own cum stains on that glossy magazine spread.

But these aren't Katie's panties in my hand; they're Nicole's. All she ever wears are lace bikinis or thongs like Monica. At least that's all that I ever find in the hamper. I know I've got time tonight because Gary went out of town this morning for a photo shoot. Oh man, what I'd give to have that job, examining and photographing cunt all day and night. And I just saw Nicole and some guy I don't know climb out of the pool — both naked — and go into the cabana. She shook her ass like she knew that I was watching from my window, but maybe she was shaking it for the guy.

My right hand was still moving slowly. All the guys in school tell the same story. Jerking off is fun, and the best part is when you cum, but once you cum, you have to wait a while to start over again. So most of them (us) take their time jerking off, unless it's a real hard-on emergency. And damn it, I get those emergencies too fucking often.

I had no idea who the guy was. I'd never seen him before, but that wasn't so unusual. Nicole always had younger studs over to the house when Gary wasn't around. One day I heard Gary and Nicole talking about it, and Gary didn't sound annoyed or pissed off in the least. Maybe it had to do with Nicole's remark about 'that new cunt you're banging.' This new guy was the first one I'd ever seen naked. He had big broad shoulders. Actually all I saw that was usually covered was his ass; I never saw his dick. I wondered how big it was, what it looked like, if it was hard at that moment. I wondered ... oh forget it; make believe you didn't read that last sentence.

Nicole on the other hand was something else. I mean, I'd never seen her naked before either, but she was always wearing those scoop neck outfits that showed lots of tit, almost down to the nipples. And she fucking well knows that I look down into those packages every chance I get. Plus those bathing suits she wears around the pool behind the house. The nipples are just about the only thing those postage stamp cups do cover. And the little strap going up her ass doesn't hide much either. Oh, she's got it all right, and she flaunts it. And all I can do is go inside to my room and whack off like mad. I'll bet she laughs herself silly thinking about that.

I love Nicole's lace bikini panties. I love the girlish smell of the crotches; I guess that's what cunt smells like. My underwear certainly doesn't smell like that. She probably sprays her snatch with some of that stuff that they advertise on television. Oh man, I'd love to get my nose up in there. My dick too, of course.

Damn near every one of them that she throws into the hamper has a hard dry spot by the crotch, where some guy's cum has dripped out of her cunt. I never know whose it is. It could be from Gary, or maybe from the guy who cleans the pool, or from one of the Mexican landscapers. Maybe it's from that big black insurance agent, or the tall guy who always wears a baseball cap. Or maybe even from Gary's lawyer.

All I can be sure about is that the cum that dripped out of Nicole's cunt onto her panties didn't come from MY dick. Very rarely is the cum still damp when I get to the panties; most of the time it's already dried out. When it is damp, it makes me think of that spread of her in Stroke Over This, with the cum oozing out of her cunt and on her face. That's another magazine where the pages are sticking together from my cum, but I know where Gary has a whole box of samples that he likes to give to company at the house.

Whether they're damp or dry, I love to suck on the spot where the cum settled, trying to suck it right out of the lace. I've got no ideas whose cum I'm trying to get a taste of, and it doesn't matter. It's just the wickedness of some other guy's cum in my mouth. I've tasted my own often enough, and there's no special taste to it. But still, I wonder ... no, forget that subject also.

I looked down at my dick, my right hand hiding and alternately exposing my purple crown as I stroked myself slowly. The first little drop of pre-cum began to form, but I wasn't ready to let go so quickly. I needed to free up my left hand so I pulled the panties over my head, just to hold them, positioning her crotch right over my nose. Oh, did I love that smell.

I wondered what Nicole and the new guy were doing right that second down there inside the cabana. Maybe they were lying there looking at one of Gary's magazines, just to get each other hot. Nah, they were naked already; it wasn't likely that they needed that kind of inspiration before they fucked. Maybe he was sucking on her tits. Jeez, that made me think of Katie, my dear stranger of a mother, who used to feed me that way. Shit, I really wish I could remember how it tasted, that milk oozing down my throat. I wonder if it's like when a guy cums in a girl's mouth and she swallows it.

Shit, what's the matter with me? I keep thinking about guy sex stuff but I'm not gay, I'm just horny. I want to fuck a woman, any woman, and the closest I could come was my right hand curled into the shape of a cunt.

Maybe he's eating her, like the photo spread with Nicole and Katie. I'd love to eat her. Shit, I'd love to eat either one of them. Or both of them. No, I'm not talking about the guy now, I mean Katie. Is the mysterious stranger sniffing Nicole's cunt right now? Does she smell like her panties, or even stronger, lustier, sexier?

While my right hand patiently stroked my dick, my free left hand crept under and began to jiggle my balls. I like playing with them, feeling one of them run away as my fingers give it a little squeeze. Nicole, would you squeeze my balls please? Would you put them into your mouth and suck them until I cum?