Chapter 4
Together, Rev. Worthington and I mapped out a campaign to bring the smut-peddlers to their knees. Realizing that an orthodox approach probably would fail against such tricky, unscrupulous foes, we devised a plan of daring innovation.
Our strategy was two-pronged. While Rev. Worthington organized the congregation into a committee what would put pressure on local officials, I was going to be in the trenches gathering evidence on the wrong-doers. Working undercover, I would collect every piece of retail obscenity I could so we would have plenty of ammunition when it came down to the nitty-gritty.
When one of the Board of Supervisors skeptically asked, "On what do you base your charges?", we'd slap a few dildoes and dirty magazines on display.
If that didn't convince him, we'd really haul out the works. After we finished, the room would be full of garbage the Board of Supervisors would be ready to puke.
Throwing myself into the crusade, I made the rounds of the hard-core outlets, buying one item after another. The smirking attendants just assumed I was another wiggy chick as I stuffed my purse with my filthy purchases.
"Heh, heh," I would laugh when I got outside with my evidence, "if those bastards only knew what I was up to, they'd shit."
Then, after I'd hit just about every porno shop in the area, I decided to broaden my horizons. While glancing through the newspaper one morning, I happened to scan the classified ads and notice some peculiar entries in the "Personals" section. I decided to follow one of them up.
It was an escort service. When I called them up they said they'd provide any kind of escort I might want.
"For sex?" I laid it on the line, anxious to incriminate them from the outset.
"What else?" the voice on the other end chuckled. "What's your preference?"
I hesitated for a moment, searching for the right answer. If I wanted to get the goods on them, I had to appear as kinky as possible.
"A woman!" I suddenly blurted from some unknown fount of inspiration. "Could you get another woman for me? I'd like to make love to another woman."
"A dyke, huh?"
"Yes," I eagerly lied. "I'll pay anything for some new pussy in my life."
"It's yours," the voice promised. "Just tell us where you want the merchandise delivered."
Well, now that was a problem. I certainly couldn't have some promiscuous lesbian knocking at the door of the family home. I'd have to arrange to meet her someplace.
"The Ramada Inn on the highway north," I improvised. "Tell her to ask for Mrs....uh ... Smith's room. Mrs. Smith. Send her at eight tonight."
I still had some time to kill, so I drove to a Radio Shack outlet.
"Do you have an inexpensive tape recorder that could pick up people talking if it were placed, say, under a bed?" I asked the young fellow behind the counter.
"Sure, any of our cassette machines will do that," he smirked. "And while you're at it, lady, I think I know where you can pick up a reliable used Polaroid, too."
"Very funny," I replied icily, trying to wither him with my disapproving gaze. "Just wrap up the cheapest model and keep your slimy thoughts to yourself, if you don't mind."
Under the circumstances, I was given strength rather than embarrassed by his sleazy comments. His very suggestiveness added to the proof of the righteousness of my crusade.
People like him could only be redeemed if the influences which negatively influenced their thinking were wiped out. Somebody had to help them.
Together, the church and I would do just that ... at least in this community. The rest of the world might go up in the flames of immorality, but at least this would eventually become a decent place in which to live once again.
Armed with my new tape recorder as if with a sword of vengence, I sped to the Ramada Inn, anxious to set the trap. With this little baby, I'd get the concrete evidence I needed to present to the authorities that the boundaries of filth spread far beyond just the adult book stores and magazine racks.
Once in the motel room I'd rented, I slipped the device under the bed and coolly waited for a knock. As soon as I heard someone at the door, I'd activate the recorder, and every bit of vileness would be set down for posterity.
There was a knock at the door. Reaping up, I switched on the tape recorder. With everything set, I went to answer the door, embarking on a new chapter in my war against the pollution of souls.
"Hello, babe," a rangy redhead greeted me. "You the chick with the yen for pussy?"
Slipping into the role I'd chosen for myself, I told her I was.
"The wetter the better," I blatantly said.
"Groovy," she grinned. "I've been on the rag all week. I just got off today and my cunt is screaming for some action. I hope you've got a long tongue."
"Six inches," I picked a figure out of the air.
"Double groovy. Let's get started before the cream starts running down my legs."
Before I could invite her in, she pushed past me and marched straight for the bed. I hadn't even closed the door and she was hurriedly removing her clothes.
She was stark naked in less seconds than you could count on your fingers. Of course it wasn't that much of an accomplishment, since, under her dress, she wasn't wearing a stitch.
Falling onto the bed, she spread her legs and made her flexing pussy the focal point of her long, lean body. It immediately caught my attention, because, contrary to my expectations, she had naturally red hair.
The curls around her snatch were glowing. Her crotch looked like it was literally on fire.
"How do you like it, babe?" she asked.
"Oh, I love it," I answered in character.
"Then strip and get on top of me," she said impatiently. "If I have to wait too much longer in my condition I'll blow up."
Knowing that a moment's hesitation on my part might blow my cover, I lost no time in getting out of my clothing. Anticipating a requirement such as this, I'd also taken the precaution of not wearing anything underneath. Beneath my dress was nothing but bare skin.
"Mmmmmm, I love it, babe," the woman smacked her lips from the bed when she saw my naked body. "I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of having all that squirming around on top of me."
I moved quickly toward her. Deeply enmeshed in the role I was playing by now, I licked my lips according to type. H-O-R-N-Y was written all over me.
Practically diving between the redhead's open legs, I came to rest with my face only an inch or so from her crotch. I had a close-up of the best she had to offer.
What a pussy!
Her orange pubic hair was so saturated with dew that it was starting to lose its curl. She was wet, wet, wet.
The only thing more vibrant than her floss was the actual meat itself. The lips of her cunt were red, fat and glistening. At the top, her big round clit looked like a fat cherry.
The transformation of my character had been so complete that, instead of being repelled by another woman's cunt, I regarded it as a kid would an ice-cream sundae. It made my mouth water, and my stomach grumble from hunger.
There was nothing I could do but eat it. And eat it I did.
With one big lapping gulp, I spread the lips of my mouth over the lips of her pussy, and began my feast. As the cunt juice poured down my throat, I automatically shot my tongue up her gooey slit and jerked it in a fucking motion.
It was such a pungent occasion I didn't even stop to think that it was the first twat I'd ever tasted. It all came so naturally that I became an expert at muff-diving. I might as well have been doing it since I was a little girl.
"Let me feel those six inches you were talking about," the redhead said from above. "I'm starving for everything I can get."
Hurtling my stiff tongue with every iota of energy at my command, I practically ripped it from the floor of my mouth with the effort. The veins at its roots burned from the exertion.
"Six inches!" my tongue-infested partner exclaimed. "Jesus, what a put-on!"
Immediately I panicked. I was sure I'd slipped up. Had I blown it?
"Six inches," she scoffed again. "Wow, I don't see how you could say that."
My heart stopped beating for a moment. Then, when it recommenced, it was pulsing up in my throat.
"Jesus, your tongue is eight inches if it's a tad."
Did I hear her right? I prayed for her to repeat it so I could be sure.
"Eight inches!" she demonstratively satisfied my desire. "Eight fucking inches! God, I've taken plenty of hard-ons that couldn't come close to the equipment you've got in your mouth, babe."
It was like words from God. Like He was personally telling me what a terrific job I was doing getting the goods on the sinners in our community. It was as though my pussy-jabbing tongue were an instrument of the Lord.
Now all the stops were out. I whammed away, licking the interior of the redhead's twat to the hilt. If it was possible to taste another woman's womb through tongue fucking, then I was surely doing it.
When she started to come I had never felt so proud in my life. While she writhed against my mouth-connection, I knew that my erect tongue had performed as well as any man's cock could have done.
Yes, I had made another woman come like blazes, and it made me very happy. And naturally made me wonder if she was capable of doing the same to me.
"Could you make me come, too?" I asked, after her orgasm had cooled down enough for me to get through.
"You got it, babe," she eagerly replied. "Just swing around on top of me and we'll sixty-nine."
It sounded erotically delicious. However there was only one problem . ... I didn't know what she was talking about. Sixty-nine? ... What was that?
"Hurry up, babe," she urged me. "I'm dying to start dipping into that cunt of yours. I'll bet it's as juicy as a T-bone steak."
I only had a split-second to determine what to do. Any longer than that and she might catch on that I wasn't the swinger I pretended to be.
Sixty-nine ... sixty nine. The number tumbled over and over again in my mind. What could it mean? A six ... and a nine. When you turned them upside down, the nine became the six, and the six became the nine.
Of course!
It was like a bulb had suddenly lit in my head. The two love partners were the numbers. The top of one meshed perfectly with the bottom of the other, and vice-versa.
I was supposed to suck her cunt while she sucked mine. How ingenious!
Taking to it like a duck to water, I swiveled around on her body. The slurping of my mouth filled my ears as my tongue twisted deliciously inside her damp cunt.
The first touch of another woman's nibbling lips against the petals of my twat was sheer heaven. Being of the same sex, she knew exactly what to do. I was so glad it was a female mouth between my thighs.
Her teeth found my clitoris and got the most out of it right away. Right from the beginning I began coming. If this was the start, I couldn't help but wonder how it would all wind up.
In the meantime, I kept jabbing her to the hilt with my ever-active tongue. I prayed she would get the message that I was lusting for her to reciprocate.
I couldn't have sent a telegram and gotten any better results. She read my oral plea perfectly and got down to business.
"Ahhhhhh!" I let out a blast of air into her muff as her tongue attacked my slit.
Her oral prong was hard as a rock. More erect than my husband's prick had ever seemed to be in the marital bed. Within seconds she was fucking me with it to the absolute fare-thee-well.
Had she said I'd penetrated her pussy eight inches? Well, she was matching my effort, and I loved it.
There was easily two-thirds of a foot of hard tongue inside my spasming cunt, and its frictional motion was making me come harder than I ever had in my life. Later I might be ashamed to admit this, but right now I was glorying in the fact that she was giving me a more intense orgasm than my husband had been able to do in years of respectable marital love-making.
It was easy to see why this illicit sex had so much appeal. There was no restraint when the human body was opened up sheerly for the purpose of pleasure. There was no inhibition to getting it on. The fact you didn't know the person doing it to you seemed to open sensual doors that had been closed for a lifetime.
I must have sent quarts of female cum down the redhead's throat. And, at the same time, I thirstily swallowed at least the same quantity of her gooey juice. If pussy juice had calories, the next time I stood on the scale I'd find I'd gained five pounds.
Then, just when I thought our coupling couldn't be any more sensational, my lesbian lover's tongue surpassed itself. Pulling out of my twat, it moved a notch and began tickling the ultra-sensitive ridges of my asshole.
Needless to say, I carbon-copied the performance. When she tickled my anus, I did the same to hers. Throughout it all I hoped mine tasted as excruciatingly sweet as hers.
Then the tip of her tongue penetrated my shit-pit. Naturally, I followed suit immediately.
In tandem, we forced inch after inch of solid meat inside our respective assholes. The deeper the insertion, the more pungent the taste was.
My first oral experience with another woman's ass was even more delectable than my first taste of cunt. By the time I had probed so deeply that I was actually lapping against a chunk of shit that was caught in my lover's rectal canal, I thought I'd pass out from the sheer ecstasy of it all.
Finally, after long and hard effort, we each made it inside the other to the hilt. Eight inches of swollen tongue throbbed within each tight asshole.
I felt her contractions first. Then, right on cue, mine began.
Spasming even more violently than our cunts had, our chocolate tunnels went wild with release. Yes, yes, we were both experiencing anal orgasm at once. Coming, coming, coming in our asses.
In my married life I had only rarely reached climax in the normal region of my cunt. Yet now, incredibly, after already having felt it in my pussy, I was having it happen all over again in my ass.
I couldn't help myself. I was a slave to it-a slave to the pounding climax in the constricting hole of my butt. A slave to the anal tightness squeezing my tongue.
When we finally withdrew from each other's slimy asses, we were exhausted. We'd both probably come for about five minutes straight.
Flopping over in splendid weariness, I anticipated languishing in my orgasmic afterglow indefinitely. There was nothing else on my mind but how good I felt.
I'd forgotten why I was here in the first place. My fight against immoral sex ... the tape recorder under the bed ... the respectable wife and mother I'd been before I walked into the room-none of those considerations were present in my consciousness. All I could think about was how good I felt. How wonderful it was to have been fucked to mind-boggling orgasms in both the pussy and ass by another woman's tongue.
The reality of my initial motives was a million miles away. Lying on the bed, and moaning with pleasure, I was nothing more than a cunt and ass. My entire being was centered in those two holes.
Needless to say, I wasn't prepared for any sudden boomeranging of the harsh glare of real-life. Especially not when its agent was none other than the nameless redheaded woman with whom I'd such fucked and sucked to exhaustion.
But fact is fact. And a big chunk of it abruptly reared up and smacked me like the back of a shovel in the face.
"You're under arrest," she said.
"Huh?"
"I'm Officer Muldoon, undercover agent for the vice squad," she calmly informed me, producing a badge from God knows where and flashing it in my face. "I'm taking you in on counts of soliciting, crimes against nature, and using a motel room for immoral purposes. You have the right to remain silent, to call an attorney...."