Three Way Swap

"Just ask for 'Big Frieda,' " Dr. Prickett suggested anxiously, as I climbed out of the limousine. He held Melanie back from following me, slammed the door, and drove off with her toward another part of the building.

Excitement and anticipation filled me as I stepped through the brightly lit side entrance of the Club. In the distance, I could hear the rock group blasting away over the voluminous babbling of the crowd, but just inside the doorway, I became aware of dozens of chirpy voices chattering and giggling. Some seemed very high and girlish, others answered in deep, masculine tones. I stopped, looked in, and stifled a gasp as a heavy wave of perfume and cigarette smoke hit me head-on. Through the haze, I gradually became aware of the funniest sight I'd seen in a long time. I had walked in on the backstage dressing room of a group of powdering and primping female impersonators!

Looking around the hot, densely crowded, congested room, I took in the confusing panorama of half dressed men, tables piled high with cosmetics, and women's undergarments. Shoulder to shoulder around the long double mirrored dressing table, twenty partially dressed drag queens sat applying gobs of theatrical make-up to their chalk white faces, adjusting their padded bras and long silk stockings, while gossiping and smoking. Directly behind them, dozens of multicolored, sparkling sequined gowns and exotically coiffured and bejeweled wigs hung from rows of makeshift hooks.

I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing as I stared unashamedly at the wild scene. One "he-she" still had on his trousers and was puffing away on a pipe, as he applied pancake make-up patiently to emphasize the nondescript cleft of his flat chest. Another "Lady," his shapely smooth legs covered by expensive looking silk stockings held up by a glittering garter belt, was detaching electric rollers from his own shoulder length brunette hair. A stranger sight still was a beefy baldheaded, cigar smoking gent, whose plump figure was covered by only a white feather G-string. Obviously, he was the comic of the group. He sat there doggedly plucking out chest hairs, one by one, with a pair of tweezers, and wincing after each yank. Between pulls, his baggy eyes shifted in my direction. Focusing in on the whale of a whopper protruding clear down my levi leg, they opened up like twin saucers. "Mary it's 'Super Stud' with the nine inch rented tool!" his gravelly cracked voice blurted out.

"That's me instant cock for cash," I bragged, resting my hands on my lean hips and spreading my legs apart in butch fashion. "Hell, every minute my feet are on the ground, I'm losing money."

My "witty" remark brought only silence as forty ogling eyes turned my way and twenty red painted mouths dropped a couple of feet each.

"Er, uh, I'm only looking for...., " I started to stutter uneasily, but stopped short as the entire bunch of fruits suddenly came out of their deep freeze, and as one man (or "Lady") elbowed, tripped and crawled over one another and fought to get to me first. I barely had a chance to back away as they flung themselves on me in one frantic assault, almost bowling me over!

"How much do you charge a crack, Mr. Straight Masculine?" the first fag asked, his well-manicured hand grabbing hard at my crotch. I gasped. "I'd sure dig being humped by that! It looks absolutely dee-vine!"

"Something tells me I have a sudden urge for sex," another drooled, running his sharp fingernails up my t-shirt and across my matted chest. "Oooooh, I'm lovesick already, you sweet thing, you."

"You're obviously a guy with a lot on the balls," an afro-coiffured dinge queen shrilled, tearing at my fly. "Let's see if you 'meat' with our approval, sugar."

As the top of my fly flew open, everyone swooned in approval at the spread of blonde wiry hair on my muscular belly. "I wish I had a beauty spot like that," a willowy pansy whined enviously. "Really, it's a gourmet paradise!"

"You're certainly the Ail-American gay boy's dream, muscles," a nelly swish sighed, running her bejeweled hands up and down my bulging biceps. "I'm just queer for the super-straight levi type."

"Let's face it, girls, he's got the kind of 'Personality' queens love to touch," I heard someone laugh behind me, and, as if on cue, I felt dozens of hands grab my t-shirt, pull it up, and over my head in a chorus of shrieks and shrill giggles. I cursed as I felt long fingernails ripping at my thighs and roughly yanking down on my pants.

"Hey, what the hell?" I yelled angrily, but all those greedy hands ignoring my protest, grasped at my free swinging prick. My t-shirt went flying in one direction, and my britches were literally torn off over my loafers and thrown aside, leaving me naked as a jaybird.

"Stretch it out over here, prostie, and share it with your friends," a lustful looking "Limp wrist" ordered, as I felt a painful tug on my action-packed penis. "Now I know what they mean 'cum' to where the flavor is."

"My dear isn't that a spectacular appendage?" the afro queen exclaimed, pulling still harder on my nine incher with one hand, while squeezing my dangling nuts with the other. I cursed in annoyance.

"Yes, but does it have a loving heart and honest soul?" someone jested. Everyone broke up in laughter, as the small circle grew tighter and tighter around me. I felt my half hard organ being rubbed firmly between two legs. "I always watch what I stick in my body," somebody joked as my face was forcibly turned and an open red lipped mouth hotly covered mine, tonguing me hard and sensuously.

"O.K., fellas, knock the shit off!" a snarling, commanding voice shouted in a basso profundo. "Don't mess with the door prize, or the High priestess of Camp will have all your asses back peddling sex on the streets again."

"What's the matter, Big Frieda, you still wearing the rag?" someone lisped, as the pawing, clutching sex-fans obediently let go their bruising holds. I felt my aching dong swing loosely once more. "Aw, Frieda don't be a drag!" a pleading voice whined. That really broke everyone up, and the entire group reluctantly swished back to the dressing table, where the painting and primping began all over again.

More curious than startled, I took a good look at my liberator. Standing over six foot tall, she must have weighed at least two hundred pounds. Her dungarees, leather jacket, and size twelve Army boots seemed part of the total picture Big Frieda wanted to present, especially when you added to it her crew cut hair, lack of make-up, and fuzzy upper lip. In one big hammy hand, she clutched a large ring jangling with keys, like a jailer. Her thick wristband was centered with a huge diver's watch. As she shifted her eyes to my nudity, I could feel the chill of her cold calculating appraisal. In short, she was what she looked like a first-class triple distilled authentic bull dyke.

"You're on a tight working schedule, call boy, so dump your shreds and follow me," Big Frieda ordered with a jerk of her fat thumb. Obediently, I did just that, tagging along close behind her flabby butt as it swayed arrogantly from side to side through the doorway and down a long corridor.

"Do you happen to know where they took Miss Melanie, my partner?" I asked meekly, as we marched past rows of metal lockers and wooden benches.

"Oh, you mean the cute sexy dreamdoll? I'm waiting for a piece of that action myself," Big Frieda answered with sadistic relish. She rubbed the front of her dungarees in anticipation. I grimaced in disgust at the thought of this les wolf slobbering over poor Melanie.

We entered a lavish game and TV room, complete with pool and ping-pong tables, couches, vending machines, and jumbo size juke box.

"By the way, the High Priestess of Camp has been tripping out all over the place about the loot she's collected from your busy bodies," Big Frieda complimented me reluctantly. "She says you kids are now the aristocrats of her stable of whores. That's why your talents were specially ordered to 'entertain' at this $125-a-head Halloween fund-raising blast."

"One hundred and twenty-five bucks?" I whistled to myself in awe, as my butchy lesbo escort finally stopped in front of a heavily curtained doorway. A sign tacked to the wall next to it read "Stud Farm." I looked at Big Frieda quizzically.

"O.K., big-time hustler, I'll come and fetch when it's time for your next stop," Big Frieda pointed toward the door and gave me an evil grin that made me fear a rocky time ahead. Hesitantly, I peeked through the curtains into the murky blackness A familiar smell filled the air. I suspected pot. "Don't forget, rent-a-boy, you've got a helluva lot of bodies to service tonight, so hot trot your well publicized basket of talent inside and join your fellow playmates at mattress polo." With that announcement, she gave me a push from behind strong enough to launch the Queen Mary!

I was propelled into the dark interior of the room like a shot from a cannon, and before I could regain my balance, piled headlong into a huddle of naked human beings, then sailed over them and landed in the direct center of another frenetically active circle of sweaty, slippery torsos. "Holy shit!" I gasped, as I awkwardly tried to find a footing in the hodgepodge of squirming flesh. Stepping blindly over and between dozens of unidentified bare limbs, I finally touched bottom on a bouncy rubber mattress top. I waited for my eyes to get accustomed to the darkness, broken only by a dim red light in the ceiling. Grunts of animal ecstasy, sucking noises, and slaps of skin on skin filled my ears.

"O.K., boys, here's your sample preview of tonight's door prize," Big Frieda bellowed, and walked out, leaving me to the mercy of the still almost invisible mob.

The response to her invitation was a mad scramble of groping hands, sucking mouths, and pressing bodies. In their groggy stoned condition, the mob came at me like gangbusters.

"What the fuck?" I protested, as a saliva-filled mouth and tongue swirled over my hanging banger greedily, nipping the head with painful bites. My moans were muffled by an open mouth zeroing in over mine. The moist waggling tongue thrust deep into my throat almost gagging me, as two long hairy arms clung octopus-like around my waist. From the rear, my rectum was assaulted by another sucking, thrashing mouth, a fiery tonguing titillating the tender hole. At the same time, someone's teeth bit painfully into one sensitive nipple. Two lips followed devouring the rubbery morsel, hot with passion. Frantic for breath, I pulled my mouth away from the face burrowing into mine, gulping for air in the hot, smoke filled snake pit. Frankly, this homo freak-out scene really wasn't my bag.

More accustomed to the dark by now, I gawked incredulously at the men-only sexual free-for-all going on around me. On all sides, nude laddies coalesced in abandoned orgiastic boudoir gymnastics. For several minutes, I took in the swinging hairy legs straddling broad shoulders as pink and ready rears were attacked by ravishing seducers; all available crotches seemed somehow covered by ravenous bobbing heads in classic "69" positions; standing couples embraced in sizzling kisses, their hands exploring each other's muscular frames seductively; meanwhile wild-eyed stags prowled around the huge square mattress intently watching the queer sex stunts.

Just then, someone's hand on my head turned my face to meet another scorching, wet mustachioed kiss, while down below, the pressing and stroking had taken on a slower and more regular rhythm. Two busy hands encircled my now fully erect hardness, pumping speedily up and down automatically on the palpitating shaft. At the same time, I grunted in pain as I felt a thick fingered intruder pushing forcibly into my saliva-moistened ass hole, and then a large, hard cockhead pressing impatiently toward the same goal. Caught in the mounting tension brought on by the blow by blow activity downstairs and the searing tipped tongue probing my mouth, I decided to relax and enjoy this faggy love-in pot-inflamed deviates and all!

As two sweaty paws pulled down on my shoulders, I braced myself in anticipation of a brutal entry into my virgin ass. A rigid bologna-sized dick tunneled ruthlessly in between the shuddering cheeks of my not-so-willing buttocks. Then surprisingly, pain changed to wave on wave of ecstasy, as a giant surge of pleasure filled my whole being. I struggled for breath, my heart pounding, while this totally different sex trip brought me perilously close to a spontaneous climax.

Just as I felt ready to explode, a change of tactics broke the tension. The hot moist mouth on my lips pulled away, a strong hand grabbed the back of my neck, and forced my head roughly downward. Knowing I was headed for zingier sex kicks, I took a hasty gulp of air as my face was smashed open-mouthed onto a glistening swollen cock looming menacingly before me. I gagged with discomfort, but the hand on my neck pushed harder, and surprisingly, I managed to take the huge weapon clear to its base in my wide-stretched jaws. Moaning with burning desire, my assailant worked his plunging straightshooter in and out of my throat, his straining hips surging back and forth viciously, smacking my forehead with soft splats against his furry belly. Pushed off balance, I gripped his waist for leverage, only to feel my hands slip down his sweat streaked muscular body and legs clear to the powerful calves which bulged below his knees.

"Take it, whore eat your heart out!" I heard a deep young voice demand deliriously, breaking the silence of this sex-oriented gay-in.

In the rear, my sodomite deflowerer hadn't missed a stroke. Locking his perspiring hands over my shuddering hips, he leaned heavily over my half crouched form. His hard, flexed belly muscles rose and fell excitedly on my backside, as he writhed and pounded downward with his slick violator. Animal sounds came from my throat as I fought for breath between strokes of the pulsing, quivering flagpole which drove rigidly past my slobbering lips. The heavy veins throbbed at its base, while a pungent salty taste filled my mouth. Strangely enough, by now I was really relishing the perverse sex thrills I was reaching at this all-male gang-bang.

"Far fucking out!" I thought to myself as the atmosphere of the "Stud Farm" grew freakier and freakier. Everyone went berserk around us while the intense heat and fury of the crowded tricking pad surged toward one colossal orgasm. My nostrils sucked in the strong, musky smells of animal lust filling our polluted paradise.

"My God! Still more?" I thought in disbelief, as yet another invisible devouring mouth pounced on my erect pride and joy, and forced it in and out as far as possible. Smoothly and greedily, it savored each and every movement I made. "I love it, I love it, I love it!" were the only words that filled my reeling mind, as my trembling, sex-filled body was transported toward a final excursion into heavenly bliss. My legs quivered with excitement till the fulfilling gratification from my three-way connection became so delicious, I could hardly hold back an uncontrollable urge to shoot.

"Son of a bitch, I'm gonna blow it, man!" a voice warned from out of the darkness, as the super-lover behind me balled my gouged-out anus like a veteran broncobuster, raising me to a fever pitch of ecstasy. At last, completely losing control of his body, bouncing and heaving in such unrestrained heat that I thought he'd never come out of it, he brought himself to the very edge of his final eruption with near perfect timing for both of us. Little sparks lit up all through my steaming posterior, as the heat of his weapon burned into the exact center of my violated fanny. The orgy of rhythmic upward jerks, quicker and quicker, faster and faster, wilder and wilder went on until his raging hips and buttocks lunged forward one last time, and then his exhausted carcass fell shuddering over my bent sweaty back. "God, God, you're tight right in tight!" he whimpered in complete happy-unhappy release, as his delicious crisis finally arrived. His joystick ejaculated rapturously as he spent madly in exquisite convulsions. Stream after stream of warm seed from his jerking machine splattered my stretched slushy canal. "Oh, wow fantabulous!" he gasped.

"Hang on, 'cause I'm making it, too!" another voice pleaded. Then two clenching hands pulled forward painfully on my curly hair and smashed my face against a soppy-haired belly. The stiff throbbing pole, already deep in my mouth, pushed in harder against my gagging palate. I resisted futilely against the pressure, almost strangling as I tried to ease up on the overloaded prickhead. In and out, with all his strength, he pounded his embedded rod, cramming my mouth with the kind of drive and vitality only a youth can sustain, rocking from side to side, hard and wrenching. I waited for his approaching shoot-out eagerly, my brain whirling with the intoxication of this never-ending, half blind perverse fun-making. "Whip it to me, tiger, I can't take it much longer!" he begged plaintively. "Oh, shit I'm tripping out!" were his final words as he went completely bananas. His bucking reached a peak, then his rhythm broke as his frame was racked with the contorted spasms of a gigantic shooting spree. Hot breath seemed propelled from his lungs in racking, agonized gasps, then whimpering animal cries of fulfillment. His hard belly went rigid and exploded, as the muscles stretched and relaxed, again and again.

At first, I saw stars, swallowing and coughing back the enormous flood of warm, salt-flavored jizz spewing forth from his firing cannon. But within seconds, I found myself eagerly sucking down every drop of the creamy sperm as it continued to fill my throat to overflowing. Murmuring with unashamed delight, I extracted every last ounce of the manly essence until his staff was sucked dry, and lay twitching and relaxed in my insatiable mouth.

Down below, a "star-quality" blow job was taking place on my own succulent monstrosity. The feeling was so tremendous that in my delirium, I pumped downward recklessly into the suctioning warmth, using every ounce of my strength, becoming lost in climbing to the brink of my own take off. I screwed frantically like a sex maniac, while the sliding, slippery jaws sent my tension-filled torso on to impossible heights of joy.

Then it happened. My loins boiled, my heart pounded, as a blazing trail of unbelievable sensations flushed through my body, draining me to the edge of consciousness. "You're weird, you're really weird, Ken, you know that?" I told myself in that instant before final orgasm. Then an electric charge ignited my taut instrument and I exploded with a blast, sending floods of delectable thick deposits into the ultimate target.

My half crouched figure shook and rolled recklessly as each magnificent discharge whished through the singed pathway, bulleting sensational globs of come into the human suction apparatus below. The hardness wedged in my sloshy ass-hole, and the drooling pecker still in my semen-filled mouth, made the triple-header abnormal sexing, plus my climax, almost more than I could bear. And God knows I was wrapped up in it! Knees quaking uncontrollably, I directed every shot with total concentration deep into those greedy unseen lips.

When my juices finally stopped flowing, I melted away in a final release, almost fainting with the excitement. Time seemed to stand still, but at last, the slick throbbing hose slid sloppily out of my tingling sore anus, leaving an aching void in my ravished rear. At the same moment, the dribbling fullness that had filled my throat and now lay shriveled and flabby, finally slipped from my tired lips, thick gobbets of sperm still trickling down my chops. I began breathing more easily and became aware of the strong male odor rising from the frantic sexual action still going on in high gear on the overcrowded mattress below. My energies completely spent, I barely felt the feverish lips as they left my still erect, but drained pillar. Falling onto the dank covering, I lay absolutely zonked out, craving for some fresh air to be let into this steamy sex arena.

"Hey, door prize front and center!" I heard Big Frieda bellow like a top sergeant, loud and clear. In spite of whining protests from all around, I obediently rose, disengaging myself from the frantic last-minute clutches at my aching manhood. I pushed a path through what seemed a never ending supply of horny, simpering pansies, still absorbed in playing their bouncing game. Rubbing my sore parts, I staggered through the parted curtain, and blinded by the bright lights, stood glued to the spot trying to adjust to the dazzle. "Jesus Christ, if you don't look all sexed up!" the burly, coarse mouthed old lezzie guffawed, almost collapsing in sidesplitting laughter. The strong smell of bourbon met my nostrils.

"Uh-huh, I'm having lotsa laffs bedrooming my way to the top. I'm even surprised at what I'd do for the rustle of dollar bills," I replied dryly, rubbing my eyes to see better. I caught those boozy, dyke-cobra eyes lowering from my face to the oozing, still dripping open end of the shiny mammoth shaft that thrust strongly outward from my body. "The best things in life are nutty," I joked, purposely corny.

Laughing uproariously again, and jangling her keys noisily, Frieda shook her big horse face and motioned for me to follow her. "Prostitution is a groovy thing you sell it, you get paid for it, and you still got it. And love is getting to be like everything else big business in this sex-mad day and age. You and dollbaby have got it made, too, with her Higliness. She's got you guys gimmicked to rape the world of wealthy sex-starved suckers. Yep, I agree, you two are too good to lose moneywise," she jabbered away half to me, half to herself, as I trailed behind her toward the door marked "Backstage." Even through the walls, I could hear a full rock band beating out a slow, walking rhythm to the noise of a wildly boisterous, chanting crowd.

"We'll have to double time through this routine, so we can scoot your butt on to another of our really important scheduled sex trips," Big Frieda frowned, squinting at her watch, as she opened the door.

"Wait a minute....! " I cried. Too late! The nerve shattering music from the pop group burst over us, swallowing up all other sounds. I took a quick glance down at my naked messy body, but barely had time to run my hands through my tousled curly hair. The ringlets of blonde hair on my chest, belly, and groin were still wet, matted, and glistening. My enormous shiny erection stood up like a gigantic exclamation point, and a long, swaying line of white jizz bobbed toward the floor like a yo-yo.

"Come on, super fuck," Big Frieda yelled through cupped hands in my ear, as she threw me an impatient look and shoved me toward the entrance.

I sighed in exasperation, but stepped through the doorway, trying to look nonchalant. The long driblet of come swayed freely in front of my taut organ, glinting in the blue-white gleam of the spotlights aimed toward the invisible performers on stage.

Standing half hidden in the darkness, I had a good chance to view the strange event taking place before me. In one long line, impatient and irritable, a grotesque parade of femme masquerades, old and young, stood squashed together like sardines. Overwhelming waves of cheap perfume and sweat wafted my way like poison gas. Extravagantly dressed in expensive costumes flashing with phony jewels, gold lame, and dripping with fur, the "drag queens" of all sizes and shapes were so intent on themselves and their impending presentation on stage, they didn't even notice me.

I stared shamelessly at the fairy troupe in their full glory, preening and cooing with each other like so many big birds, touching up their hairdos just one more time, straightening the seams of their stockings, dabbing on yet another layer of last minute pancake, and looking into little compact mirrors, oblivious to everything else around them. Their overly painted faces and hairless lumpy masculine physiques made strange contrasts with all the frills and feathers draped on their bodies.

"Watch that shit, Mary!" an aged version of "Mae West" rasped through snarling red lips at the younger drag close behind him. Batting his black two-inch eyelashes a mile a minute, he glared down at the torn hem of his gown. As the older queer yanked petulantly at the ripped train of his white strapless dress, the long ostrich plumes on his picture hat poked into the little faggot's face. "Hereafter, keep those size twelve clodhoppers to yourself, Miss Foot Fetish," he growled.

"Get those Colonel Sanders chicken feather rejects out of my eyes before I yank them off and leave you bald as a baby's ass, you silly old bitch!" the little one, dressed as a Playboy Bunny lisped back testily. His costume was complete with siliconed tits, padded hips, and super high heeled pumps. Fidgeting nervously with the rabbit ears stuck on his shiny black hairdo, he turned away muttering. "Listen, baboon brains, if you don't like it here, go swish your petticoat somewhere else."

"Talk about being uptight," another daffy doll grimaced, struggling with long taloned fingers to loosen his tight fitting ballet costume where it covered his smashed-in crotch area. "This get-up will turn me into a real soprano yet! Whoever said being gay is fun?"

"It takes all kinds to make two balls go round," a "Scarlett O'Hara" double drawled in a thick, phony southern accent, lifting up the edge of his wide hooped skirt with one muscular arm, and energetically scratching his ass with the other.

"Thank God, you're here! You're on in just a minute, my boy!" I heard a familiar voice ring out. It was Dr. Prickett, who had suddenly appeared at my side. He gripped my bare arm with his soft pudgy hand and purposely maneuvered me away from my swarthy lesbo leader and the spellbinding gay parade. Trying hard to act casual, but obviously nervous and worried, he leaned over close and whispered in a low conspiratorial tone. His eyes widened as he got his first good look at the sight of my now slightly drooping maleness, still running with thick creamy sperm. "Kenneth, where have you been? I've only got a couple of sees. If my little plan fails, I predict nothing but a heap of trouble and misery for all of us. So whatever they ask you to do do it! I'll need all the time I can get to steal those papers while Priscilla and her gorillas are busy watching the drag contestants. We'll have to improvise my delivery of the papers to you and our escape by ear, so keep a sharp lookout for me and watch out for that little fink, Priscilla! Good luck." With that warning, he took off and disappeared into the darkness.

". ... nice bit of female fluff, huh? Let's have a big hand now for this dainty doll-sized, curvaceous bundle of tricks," I could hear the drunken voice of the Mistress of Ceremonies blaring through the sound system, and the enthusiastic response of the receptive audience thunderous applause and wolf whistles.

"O.K., cunt lapper, go make a beeline onto that stage and do your thing," I heard Big Frieda's voice from behind me, as she pushed me forward impatiently. Obediently, I scooted along in the direction of the High Priestess of Camp. The houselights dimmed and brilliant searchlights pinpointed the exact spot on stage where I would enter. like a real ham, I turned on my flashiest smile, and exuded all my masculine charm and virility.

"Well, my dears, you're really gonna flip," Priscilla challenged the SRO crowd of homo watchers, while the powerful beams of light focused all attention on my sex smeared, rippling muscular physique, and my well heralded "prize" wet, dangling, and swinging in front of me like a baby elephant's trunk. "No bullshit! This 'Stud of All Time' is the ultimate answer to every 'girl's' prayer. I dig things strong and hard, don't you? Absolutely knocks me out every time really!"

As the visually stunned psycho-sexpots gawked and listened with awe to Priscilla's super sales pitch, I noticed in disgust that she was once again wearing that same old mini-skirted, bejeweled ensemble the only outfit I'd ever seen her in! Obviously, she was not only money-grubby, but stingy, too.

"How do you sell a high priced product when it outsells itself?" she went on. "Well, kids, all I can tell you is that 'Mr. AC/DC himself is today's most sought after 'he-man' among our top jet set clientele. And gang, as you can see, this is no ordinary run-of-the-mill whore. No way! This veritable greek god has the unique ability of attracting both sexes. Tonight, the management has taken precious time from his heavily booked engagement list to contribute his unbeatable services to the highest bidder in this evening's door prize auction. Far out, huh? Yes, this studsy boy is gonna be some lucky person's 'anything goes' love match and right after the best costume contest! It's O.K., 'cause it's for charity, natch and he's tax deductible, too!"

As if on cue, the live rock band joined the wild clapping and cheers that greeted this extravagant introduction. Smiling boozily, Priscilla motioned me forward and onto a long wooden runway which ran out into the center of the room. I walked into the blinding lights gingerly, as hundreds of male and female homosexuals screamed and hollered, and even swooned their approval. The entire stage front area and all the aisles were swollen with wild-eyed grabby spectators.

Far across the stage, another section of the crowd seemed to be chanting in a state of near delirium. Curious about my rival, I took a good long look, and flushed in annoyance and jealousy when I recognized it was my sex partner, dear Melanie. She didn't even see me, being completely absorbed in flaunting her nude figure in everyone's face, proud as usual of her 'sexciting' body. An obvious hit, rating shrill whistles from the lesbian contingent, her stage presence seemed to stun the audience and me, too, damn it! I watched enthralled, forgetting all about myself, as my darling did her thing. Strutting seductively, she brought the house down with her provocative hips and familiar jiggling bare bottom. Her auburn hair was in wild disarray and the creamy flesh of her torso ran with glistening sweat. I could see that her nipples had been rouged and her bosom highlighted on top to emphasize the fullness of her swaying breasts. The deep pink shadow inside her gaping red furry patch looked like an open invitation to enter and taste the moist goodies inside. I cringed at the thought that sweet Melanie might have been ravished by a bunch of sex-horny dykes in the same way I had been eaten alive by the gang-bang gay set.

Priscilla's amplified voice interrupted my reverie. "I needn't remind you chicks and dudes that the Cock 'N' Clit Country Club annually presents you with prime selections from the newest crop of the hustling profession. So now I must ask our supreme duo 'door prizes' to leave the stage and let you connoisseurs think about your bids before the actual auction begins. Thank you, Mr. Ken and Miss Melanie."

There was a tremendous roar of protest, as I headed backstage into the clutches of Big Frieda. By now, I must admit I was getting a huge ego trip out of the tongue-hanging queers eating up my dangling monstrosity with bulging eyes and crotches.

As I left the stage, Priscilla's voice still could be heard through the heavy curtains, making routine announcements. "There'll be a double ring ceremony in our beautiful wedding chapel tomorrow afternoon, performed by our own gay Reverend Harry Balls. Congregational services will commence immediately thereafter...."

I stopped listening, and once more faced the slouching, heavyset figure of Frieda, still nervously twirling her jailer's keys and staring at her watch fretfully.

"It's about time! Hot stuff coming through!" she barked and shoved a group of waiting drag show contestants out of our way, as she stomped through their midst. I trotted closely behind her, amused by the hurt whispers of annoyance from the costumed dollies straightening out the feathers and frills Big Frieda had torn and rumpled while clearing a path. And they all had cracks ready for me, too!

"Now I know where this town's 'head' is at," quipped "Mae West." Not just another dildo that walks and talks either," sighed the Playboy Bunny. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? Digging someone, and having him fuck you?" tittered the toe dancer. "After all, Michaelangelo did his best work on his back."

"Scarlett O'Hara" commented coquettishly. Shrill giggles erupted from the "girls" as they returned to their crowded positions in line awaiting their moment of glory on stage.

Panting to keep close behind the hulking dyke, I wondered what my next assignment would be. The funky music of the rhythm and blues group faded in the distance, as we barreled down one corridor, and then another. The keys in Big Frieda's fist jangled in cadence with the clomp clomp of her marching "gun boats."

"There's a lot of bread floating around at your next gig, so do anything the old moneybags you're gonna meet ask you to. Just use your usual brand of pillow talk and mattress action and lay off the booze and hors d'oeuvres," Big Frieda advised me grudgingly, as we turned down another red carpeted passageway. She finally stopped in front of a massive oak door, boldly marked "VIP LOUNGE," the name chiseled on a plaque above the doorway. I could tell that she must be drunk as a skunk by the way she fumbled around trying to insert a key from her clanking chain into the door lock. At last, she found her target and flung the door open.

"You know me, babe all pro! Sex comes first the booze and the grub don't mean a fucking thing!" I protested, as I tried to see past her into the exclusive playroom.

"My prostie held me up," Big Frieda grumbled, pointing at me accusingly, as we walked past the massive tough-looking young doorkeeper, his dark, curly hair a match for his black tuxedo. He nodded sullenly, but I noticed he managed to sneak a look down between my naked thighs at my hobbling super-special sex rejuvenator. After a good long glance, he turned and gave the high sign to a rosy cheeked teenaged boy sitting a few feet away behind a imagine antique desk. The kid was done up in a short tunic like a Roman slave. Between the spindly desk legs, I could see his plump football thighs spread wide apart revealing no undershorts, but a very adult looking and sexy basketfull, with an arched over pink peter, sagging hairy testicles, the whole scene. The youngster pressed on a loud buzzer and an almost invisible door behind him swung open. Big Frieda grabbed my hand and the two of us lurched forward into the inner chamber. The first thing I noticed was the soft luxurious carpet under my bare feet. Then as the door shut automatically behind us, I froze in my tracks at the way-out sight spread before me. It was a regular DeMille spectacular!

The enormous circular room could have been a whore's dream of a Roman Bath. Gleaming, polished floors, marble statues of Greek and Roman nudes, murals of men, boys, and animals in every position and combination you'd ever think of and then some! Around the walls were flood-lit alcoves, each one framing a beautiful adolescent boy, stark naked, his muscular body gleaming with oil as he posed on a column top. To piped-in swing music of the thirties, these animated living statues gyrated, wiggled, and put on a display of bumps and grinds worthy of Minskys, letting it all hang out.

A large circle of red velvet covered couches faced the middle of the room, each one big enough to hold two people reclining. Alongside these divans were tables holding candelabras, bottles of champagne in frosted buckets, trays piled high with sandwiches and fruit, and silver wine goblets. Scurrying around the tables were dozens of half-naked boy waiters. They wore bikini-like breechcloths, which barely covered their bulging privates and tempting chunky fannies as they waited on my future clients. The V.I.P. senior citizen gay brigade, some fifty of them, were lolling on the couches, sipping, nibbling, smoking, and dishing with one another in typical nelly fashion. If you closed your ears to all the screaming, they might have looked as dignified as a group of Roman senators, some bald or silver-haired, with sagging bony arms and tits, others with fat paunches, wrapped in draped togalike robes. Sitting or stretched out on their "seedbeds," they seemed more alive with excitement than a group of college kids.

Showcased exactly at the dead center of this whory pleasure palace was a sowly revolving king-sized black mattress mounted on a rectangular platform. All around it, indirectly lit fountains splashed, except at one spot where a miniature Venetian marble bridge gave access from the spectator couch area to the central playpen. Right above this "crash pad" turntable, on the domed ceiling, a closed circuit TV camera projected the mattress area below in giant dimensions.

"Outtasight, man! This is a real mind-fucker!" I blurted out. I fingered my sweaty balls nervously.

"A million whores in this country would give their right nuts for a chance to break into this high-falutin' faggot potpourri, so just swish your oversexed ass up there to that water bed, and use your 'queer' assets to the hilt," Big Frieda sneered coldly as she shoved me forward. Then turning to the gaping gaggle of elderly queens, she waved one beefy arm in greeting and gave them the peace sign. "Don't worry, loverboy, I'll be back for you and your next junket right on schedule," she concluded as she about faced, and clomped away noisily, slamming the door behind her.

On my own at last, I beamed and promenaded, displaying my paid-for-piece-of-meat, a true "glorification of the American Male." I reveled in the unabashed worship of these bulging eyed Medicare prospects. Walking toward the sacrificial looking water bed, my thickly veined hose and swaying balls made flighty oldsters' plucked eyebrows pop, and double chinned jowls drop. Sweaty white hands rubbed together eagerly, tongues licked thin lips hungrily, and numberless pairs of eye glasses steamed up feverishly. Some old ones who weren't wiping their glasses clean with their toga edges were already frantically undoing their belts in anticipation of the approaching action.

Squeezing my way between two of the lounges, I looked down at the one by my right. A naked, well-fed old codger, pink and bald as a baby, lay there prostrate on his face, wheezing and moaning. Straddling him, a muscle-bound and nude young attendant was pummeling his bloated carcass vigorously, alternately rubbing, slapping, and kneading the loose rolls of fatty flesh. The athletic looking masseur's eyes widened in envy as he took in my gargantuan limp bait at close range in fact, swinging heavily right in front of him. I bit my lip to keep from laughing, as his bulky client, eyes now open, stared shamelessly up at me, following my slightest move with the hungry looks of a wild animal stalking its evening meal.

On my left, two squirming figures lay, partly covered by a spread out toga. One of them, a bored looking young buck, thrust his backside hard against his ancient partner's pushing pelvis. They lay there in spoon fashion, moving slowly, but sensuously. The youngster had his face twisted to one side, far enough to meet the old one's slobbering kiss. As I pushed past, I could see his eyes run up and down my body greedily, even though he continued to submit to his playmate's frantic nibbles.

At last, I walked over the miniature arched bridge and hopped onto the black vinyl mattress. It was filled with warm, gurgling water. I laughed with pleasure as I plopped down on my back, spread-eagled my legs, and closed my eyes, savoring the cozy, relaxing sensations beneath me. "Wowie! What a way to trip out into dreamland," I sighed to myself, almost forgetting what I was there for.

Not for long, though! A voice, with a lisp like the grandmother of all fairies, rudely interrupted my reveries. "You have a whopper of a joint, darling. It's so huge and proud looking. In fact, it's so big, it's vulgar." A round of appreciative cackles and titters greeted this remark, as I felt moist, cold fingertips travel down my furry washboard abdomen, and explore my spacious navel.

Shivering, I opened my eyes. The sight greeting me directly overhead on the domed ceiling was breathtaking. There, magnificent and Herculean, was the projected image of a god.

Wearing his nudity royally, this Apollo looked back down at me, exuding masculinity to all corners of the room. It was obvious from the reflection's rock-hard physique, and "Mr. King Stud" trademark a living, great full-blooded cock, lying limp and heavy between huge muscular, hairy thighs that the televised picture couldn't he anyone else, but me!

Completely absorbed in childish self-adoration, I reveled in the admiration of these wealthy homo jetsetters jaded perverts who commuted in private planes and Rolls Royces to join together in secret and lavish lust. With a body and a flagpole like mine, how could anything really go wrong? After all, wasn't my celebrated God-given organ the foundation of Priscilla's evil plot to suck sex-starved, filthy rich "manhandlers" from all over the country and persuade them to dump their excess cash in "Queersville U.S.A.? "

From my ruggedly, handsome boyish face, with thickly lashed eyes, a straight manly nose, and pouting full lips, past my broad, deeply-muscled, silky matted chest, rocky shoulders, and outstretched immensely biceped and sinewy arms, my eyes traveled down the softly furred muscular stomach to the triangular growth that stood like a deep, wiry bush on my groin. The climax of this anatomical tour came with the force of a blow. The projected picture of my titanic pneumatic tool, exuded the promise of pleasure, veiny and pulsing. The moist velvet flesh of the bell-like tip glowed above pendulous testicles, hanging immense and bull-like. The narrow hips capped column-like hairy thighs and swelling, powerful calves. "Well," I thought as I sighed in satisfaction, "they're paying to see and feel someone special, and here it is! Me in the flesh signed, sealed, and delivered."

"It's body beautiful time," I heard a lady-like voice swoon in my ear. Soft hands moving everywhere over my body broke into my reflections. They tickled! I jumped and stifled an an urge to giggle. With eyes wide open, but in silence, I kept watching the wide screened orgiastic performance up above. "I just love contact sports," another voice cooed, as more naked old farts pressed forward and joined the crowd in kneading, pinching, and prodding at my torso. Sounds of heavy breathing and wheezing filled the room.

"They say a stiff prick knows no conscience," another nelly queen drawled, leaning over the edge of the water bed and grabbing my trunk-like plunger with both hands. It stretched and hardened in his tight grip. "Well, there goes my diet out the window!" an old man's heavy voice sighed, as his frowsy, white head dove smack down between my thighs. I could feel his fat lips touch my stretching cockhead, bathing it in small, liquid circles. I gave out with another theatrical sexy groan.

"I know it's madness, but I'm freaky for toes," a wispy old weirdo squealed, literally hurling himself at my feet, drenching them with long fervent kisses, sucking each fleshy toe avidly, and in between slurps, crying out his undying love for me.

Even for me, this was too much! I never dreamed it would go this far, but I managed to control myself, as the orgiastic panting, puffing oldsters went on with increasing desperation. Their "no-holds-barred" approach was startling and direct. Not like young lovers at all no way! These experienced "man-eaters" knew their business and took their sweet time about it, too. So much so, I finally relaxed into an "I don't give a shit" attitude, and took all they could give. "You guys are too much!" I complimented them, as I squirmed and stretched my body sexily.

Now, even more busy hands squeezed and pulled at my arms, as darting tongues savored the silky blonde hair in my armpits. Under my "worked over" stiffness, a burrowing head smashed into my loosely hanging testicles. Hot lips nibbled and sucked on the fully packed bags, sending electric shocks through my torso. "I'm tripping out of my friggin' mind," I cried, trying to sound enthusiastic. Not in need of encouragement in fact, not even listening numberless lips and tongues moved in erotic circles over my bare chest and nipples. I winced in pain as sharp teeth bit on the sensitive rubbery buttons, while other mouths chewed on my reddening shoulders. In the midst of this bizarre scene, I could feel myself becoming aroused in spite of myself. Every move of these devouring mouths seemed, in a sense, to be a kind of special homage to me. like male-devotees of a sex cult, worshipping at the altar of a glorified body.

Just then, out of nowhere, two long skinny, blue-white arms were thrown around my neck, and an old craggy faced creep planted a big wet kiss full on my mouth. Slobbering obscenely, he tried to force his tongue between my tightly closed lips. I fought for a second, but by now, I was so involved in the expert lovemaking, piling sensation on sensation, that my torso twisted and writhed in uncontrollable passion. My mouth opened as he thrust an urgent tongue so deep down my throat, I gagged and choked uncontrollably. Returning kiss for kiss, I sucked on that ramming tongue, nearly pulling it out by its roots, giving back pain for pain, pleasure for pleasure, and swallowing down the juicy wetness.

Down below, my throbbing white-headed lover worked away piston-like at my straining nine incher. This time, the feeling was different! His velvety sucking seemed to be void of any sharp edges, as fleshy toothless gums slid back and forth. The ecstasy of this new technique almost sent me into orbit, as my slippery rod quivered and twitched in answer. The vigorous "eating" movements made my pelvis bounce up and down on the water-filled mattress, jamming my fiery cocktip against the back of his gurgling, strangling throat. , At last, the skinny Methusalah up top broke off his marathon kiss, withdrawing his long, slobbering tongue. I gulped for air and felt sick with the mixed smells of sweating old bodies and musky sex organs. My head was immediately jerked to one side, and there, inches away, was a throbbing, long dick wavering invitingly in front of my face. Grubby fingers pushed back the slippery foreskin that covered its hidden, wet head. Then it came right at me like a pile driver, forcing me to open my mouth and take it in all the way to the hilt. My forehead bumped against a rotund, pudgy belly, hairy and moist. Grunting with short breaths of utter delight, my fat attacker slid his pulsing, salt-flavored penis automatically in and out of my gaping mouth in a frenzy of pumping action. Whimpering deliriously, I tried vainly to move away from the rampaging invader, but my resistance only seemed to spur him on to even wilder sexual exploits. Moaning and sighing in ecstasy, he churned his hips against my sweat-smeared face, till with a final convulsive shudder, letting out a frantic yelp, he approached his final climax. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting expectantly for the splatter of his gushing white-hot seed. Letting out a Tarzan-like roar, he drove his vibrating endowment that extra inch deeper into me, and then with a final jerk, he exploded one piddly spurt of jizz and that was it! I grimaced, as I swallowed the creamy droplet effortlessly. Tense and shivering, his large protruding stomach almost smothered me as he fell forward, trembling in exhaustion and bliss. Angrily, I pushed against the fleshy and wrinkled carcass, fighting for a little air through squashed nostrils. Minutes later, his shriveled peter slipped out from my drooling lips, and I breathed freely again. But what odors! Waves of animal lust and the strong aroma of "old" sweat clouded the arena.

"Oh, fuck this shit!" I thought to myself, getting bored. The weirdness of the situation brought me back to reality. I was here to service a bunch of mangy, decrepit fossils in the art of lovemaking. Really turned off, I definitely made up my mind to get out of this God awful whoring job and to sever all connections with that freak chick, Priscilla, come hell or high water this very night!

Tense and rigid, and almost oblivious to the growing sensations brought on by the groping, licking crew, I recoiled in discomfort as anxious hands fondled the soft contours of my well rounded rump. Then a sharp fingernail penetrated my most private opening, lunging deeply inside. I grit my teeth against the pain that shot through my bowels and merged with the delicious thrills coming from the tireless, toothless cock-sucker still selfishly working away for his reward. Just as it seemed he might go on forever, he stopped, and his gripping mouth removed its pleasurable hold.

Someone yanked my legs wide apart and shoved his knees in between. I looked down curiously past my glistening, jerking pole to see who this aggressive new ravisher might be. My eyes lit on an ugly old pumpkin faced character as I'd seen all evening, his eyes blazing with bloodshot desire and his thin lips open showing big yellow horse teeth. "Come on, let me in that tail!" he ordered, lifting my heavy legs with some difficulty, and finally succeeding in resting them on his bony hairy shoulders. Then he slid both his hands under my posterior, urging me to move down onto his outthrust weapon. Not feeling very cooperative, I just let the hoary veteran do all the work.

He spit into his hand and rubbed the slippery saliva over the whole length of his saber. "I can tell you groove getting your ass fucked, right?" he asked hopefully, as he guided his boner up to the very center of my tight anus.

I cried out involuntarily, as with one quick savage jab, he pushed a ruthless path into my tight and tender ass hole. His coarse and grizzled pubic hair scraped my cheeks, as he rammed his thighs forward and ground his hard-on full force into my pain racked bottom.

"Oooooh, how great! Nice and tight! How does it feel?" he croaked, lowering my legs from his bony shoulders and letting them drop down around his baggy waist. "Move that ass, baby. I know you love every minute of it," he puffed, his stringy frame falling over my fullness, my hard pillar flat against his furry belly, pushing against his navel.

Then it happened! The slickness between our sandwiched bodies set off an electric shock wave that burned a trail through my broiling innards, leaving me strangely transported. Our tangled forms fused together, flesh against flesh, as the sex slammer pounded into my pelvis. Driving himself with all his strength, toes dug in, he pushed me deep into the water-filled action pad, drilling and reaming my chasm. I let out involuntary animal sounds, pain and pleasure taking turns sweeping through my trembling body, while the ultra-hip spectators applauded wildly in appreciation of our far-out bravura performance.

The sweat running down the saggy ruts and wrinkles of my brutal aggressor made our sexual coupling a dripply, clammy mess. He pushed his hand between our stomachs and grabbed my taut erectness, gripping it hard. I let out sobs of ecstasy while his fingers slipped up and down my sensitive loaded cannon, faster and faster.

"Give me your lips, sweetheart," he begged. His bad breath wheezed hotly from his hairy nostrils smack into my face. I strained backwards trying to avoid his open mouth, but irked by my obvious distaste, he worked his thick tongue busily down my neck, then up to my ear, sloshing in and out noisily. "What a great piece of ass," he kept muttering.

Very slowly, my raunchy Romeo would withdraw his throbbing swollen member almost to the tip, then even more slowly, return the hardened shaft into my aching opening, plunging in to the hilt. His bristly chin dug into my tender shoulder as his piggish grunts added a touch of the barnyard to the fun and games. Letting go of my cock, he cupped my behind firmly, allowing his sizzling pecker to rest deep inside me. Only for a second, though, then he was off again for the swift ride home.

In spite of myself, I responded to this super professional rape job. Getting closer and closer to a giant blowout, I wrapped my legs tighter than ever around his flabby waist, letting the friction from his heavy, pitching motions on top carry me on to my own explosion. My man-to-man rider shifted into second, building up his speed gradually, pressing inward harder and harder, heaving and tunneling in fiery plunges. Zeroing in on the homestretch, his tireless machine seemed to have reached places inside me never before even touched.

"Do you want my load? Tell me if you want it now?" he panted in my ear.

Not answering, I wailed in exaggerated protest, ass-weary from his rough-and-tumble onslaught.

"Well, you're gonna get it, like it or not!" he promised, and went on screwing frantically. We were really giving the drunken customers what they wanted a televised and live rape act they could view while they waited impatiently for their own turn.

I had just about "had it!" Much to my relief, my sexual fury seemed ripe and ready to be spent, so in a last minute of madness, I reversed my tactics, and twisting and turning my hips, lurched upwards to meet every drilling thrust of the wrinkled avenger. "Fuck me, damn it fuck!" I shouted crazily, the lewdness of the situation crowding out all other thoughts I rocked my head back and forth wildly, my mind a delirium of lust, no longer thinking, just feeling.

"I know you want it, honey. And here it comes take it!" he gurgled breathlessly, beginning a final torrid series of pelvic lunges, so together with mine we seemed to soar to a plane of lustful insanity. For a wonderful moment, his body tensed and shuddered on the brink. Then I felt the full power of his shooting come as his bloated sword squeezed and spilled into the very depths of my guts. "Oh, baby, get it in there!"

The sensations of this floodtide filling my ass with scorching sex juice sent a delicious flush through me, igniting the spark that launched my own hot fluids and sent them gushing upward. "Christ, you're fucking the shit out of me!" I groaned, as giant emissions from my own red-hot rod finally blasted forth with stormy body-shaking jolts. "Oh, damn it it's good, too good!" I crooned, my warm creamy semen shooting onto our hairy chests, soaking both our stomachs, sprinkling and dribbling over our chins and throats. We heaved in uncontrollable open-mouthed, breathless "togetherness."

Locked in a sweaty embrace, we hung on desperately to the feel we knew must soon vanish. My ravished anus, sweetly aching, seemed the natural home of this unnatural invader, his deeply embedded, copulating organ. "Don't move now. Leave it in there, you old bastard!" I whispered harshly. He cackled like a dirty old man should, so we just stayed that way for long minutes, catching our breath. The therapeutic delight of the floating bed was so warm and comfortable, I felt myself sliding into a dreamy state of total sexual bliss.

My super-satisfied bedmate finally eased his still partially erect joystick from my stretched-out rear entry. I sighed in relief and regret, as the overwhelming fullness gave way to an aching void. His withdrawal caused a loud "pop" as his thick, sticky seed oozed down over my sore cheeks. Then, patting my quivering legs affectionately, the rutty old goat stumbled drunkenly back from the bouncy water bed. Exhausted, I flung one heavy arm over my face, utterly drained and ready for beddie-bye.

I was about to doze off when I heard my ravisher simper, "He's all yours, kids." That short statement caused havoc, as all hell broke loose! The lusty, sex-horny audience hardly needed the message. They fell all over me, digging and clawing like the sex-crazed deviates they were. It was like a nightmarish dream, seeing these oncoming, bulging-eyed pansies fighting and threatening each other over every square inch of my carcass. My cries for help went unheard as the frantic crowd piled on, pushing me down into the vinyl mattress. Frightened, all thoughts of sex fled my mind as I feared the worst that the hundreds of pounds of tired old flesh piling on top of me would either crush me to death or tear the mattress apart. And that's exactly what happened!

With a loud rip, the water mattress split open, pouring gallons of water in every direction like the Johnstown Flood. My aged attackers, makeup running, wigs damp and crooked, robes soaked and soggy, let out little shrieks and frantic trills as they stampeded away slopping through the ankle deep water, leaving my bruised and beaten body alone as if I were a leper. Lying there like a stomped-on bug, I could only sigh in relief at the funky solution that had come in the nick of time, saving me from the weight of my assailants.

"Good gracious! What the hell happened here?" a familiar voice exclaimed. It was Dr. Prickett. I laughed, relieved to hear his voice. He looked around, obviously struck dumb by my chaotic surroundings. Then he cautiously tiptoed over the bridge and picked his way through the shredded remains of the mattress to my side. I noticed he had a small metal lock-box tucked under one arm.

"Join the nude set, pops. As you can see, I'm just too potent for these tired queers," I bragged, as I glanced over toward my ex-bedfellows, now clustered in little groups on their divans, busily wiping themselves off with their togas, and complaining in shrill voices. "Isn't this what you'd call a gay turn-off?"

"This is no time for jesting, Kenneth," Dr. Prickett scolded me, looking worried. His eyes were glued on my manly charms, still highly visible and generously soaked in a mixture of glistening sweat and icky goo. "I've already practically committed suicide stealing these hot papers from Priscilla's private vault. The blunt, awful truth is that although we've got enough incriminating evidence right here to ruin that dirty young girl's bawdy house operation once and for all, we've got to get it into the hands of the right people, and there's no chance of turning back even if we wanted to. So keep your fingers crossed. If our escape succeeds great! But God forbid, if we fail we'll be royally castrated! Even our murder wouldn't disturb that power-hungry child, I dare say. Come along, let's get out of here before I have a heart attack just thinking about it," Dr. Prickett gestured to me with a trembling hand.

"Getting involved with that sex freak was really a bad trip for all of us," I philosophized. "This kind of slavery bullshit has got to stop, money or no money," I concluded, standing up gingerly on the slippery, deflated water bed. "That demented psycho has gone too far this time. I mean, poor Melanie and I are just robots to her puppets to be used for her rotten profits. Jesus, sex should be pleasure as well as business," I whined in self-pity, picking a couple of black curly body hairs off my messy torso..

"Good God, boy, shut your hole! I'm frightened!" Dr. Prickett stammered, his rabbity nose twitching with anxiety. "You don't quite seem to understand that I have the data right here in my hands that will keep us out of Priscilla's clutches forever. We still have to get out of this dump before anybody finds out these documents are missing. They're dynamite, and that little booger will go ape when she notices they're missing. I wouldn't put anything too gory or gruesome past her...."

"Oh-oh, better get lost, dad, 'cause here comes our butch lesbian friend again," I interrupted. "You know, the way she busts in really breaks me up...."

"Oh, heavens!" Dr. Prickett turned white as a ghost and hid the strongbox behind his back, as he turned to face Big Frieda, elbowing her way through the entrance door. "Don't waste a second, Ken. Bring Melanie with you to the backstage dressing room that opens onto the alley. I'll have my limousine ready for a fast getaway," the fidgety old codger whispered into my ear. His nonchalance faded, as the big bull dyke came storming toward us, her horse face beet red with anger.

"Hey, stud-streetwalker! A nice botched up job you've pulled here, musclehead. You stupid males are all alike you're all fucked up!" Big Frieda yelled at the top of her voice, frowning at me and Dr. Prickett. She turned to him insultingly. "What the shit are you doing here in the VIP Lounge, you old fart? Her Highness wanted you in her office at least an hour ago, .so get your saggy ass over there." Her beady eyes narrowed as she noticed that Dr. Prickett was hiding something behind his back. I held my breath waiting to see if she'd follow through and ask what it was.

"Why you vulgar idiot! Just who do you think you're calling a fart? If you persist in showing your ignorance of proper manners and courtesy this way, I'm afraid I must leave!" Dr. Prickett bristled with exaggerated indignation. Deliberately distracting Frieda's attention, he lifted his chin into the air, and edged toward the door, careful to keep the metal box hidden from her sight.

"Now wait a damn minute, Mac!" Big Frieda roared, madder than ever, but too late. Dr. Prickett had disappeared through the doorway. I sighed in relief. "Aw, fuck off, Mary! Who needs him, the old fossil? Let 'em twirl on this!" Frieda shouted, thrusting a thick middle finger up into the air toward Prickett's vanished figure. "I wouldn't trust that old wreck if my life depended on it. Remind me to mention this little incident to the boss. If I had my way, that old sawbones would be six feet under right now. What does Mrs. Rigsby see in an old coot like that?" the grumpy lex muttered to herself, hatred still gleaming in her bleary eyes. Finally, she turned to me. O.K., chippie, let's hotfoot it over to the office on the double." Giving me a fast once-over, she sneered in disgust, and paraded off in a huff toward the back door, pushing her way through the bewildered, withered "fruits."

We left the circular sex arena, Frieda in front, me behind jogging along like a puppy dog at his master's heels. A nice feeling came from the "slap" of my lengthy cock as it swung freely against my wet thighs at every step. Up stairs and down another long corridor, we finally stopped at a doorway marked "Private Absolutely No Admittance." My heart sank as I heard Priscilla's familiar piercing laughter coming from within the office.

"Listen, do me a favor, wilya, buddy?" I pleaded. "Where's there a John so I can at least wipe off my...."

Big Frieda didn't even listen, as she flung the door wide open. I was shocked, but also pleasantly surprised, to see Melanie standing inside, still stark nude and intently watching something just out of my vision. For a second, I felt a strong urge to rush forward and embrace my copartner's familiar sexy body right then and there! She looked so good in contrast to that homo freak-in that one glance from her smoldering green eyes was all I needed to make me go weak in the knees.

Priscilla's giggles broke up my horny fantasy, as Big Frieda shoved me forward, closing the door behind us. I could hardly believe the sight going on before my eyes!

There sat our sexually deranged employer, sprawled in an office chair, her mini skirt pushed up to her waist, and her shapely legs wide apart. Purring ecstatically, she patted the head of an immense Saint Bernard dog busily engrossed in slurping all over the inside of her thighs, up and down, back and forth, working its way toward her "homemade" pussy and spearing its long tongue into the depths of her hairy target. Whimpering and licking like mad, the huge dog sported a shiny red penis which extended like an overripe pimiento.

"Hey, King Stud! Enjoying the evening? Every night is New Year's Eve around here," Priscilla greeted me, a lascivious twinkle in her China blue eyes. She looked approvingly over my jizz matted physique. "Meet one of your new sex playmates 'Spiro,' the most versatile canine since Lassie. He's got a whole new repertoire of boudoir tricks. How does that grab you?" She looked down at the lapping mutt. "Easy, boy. Come to mama!" she commanded, as the great animal obediently leaped upward, planting its huge paws on her square bony shoulders. The panting beast began automatically bumping and pumping frantically against her body.

"Oh, Kenny," Melanie cried unhappily, as she ran over and threw her arms around my neck. She buried her pretty face in my shoulder, shuddering. The feeling of her warm, curvy frame rubbing against me filled me with pleasure.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it, dearie," Priscilla addressed Melanie coldly, a little irritated at her obvious revulsion. "Remember, honey, you were nothin' but a two-bit wench when I dragged you off the streets. You've never made so much money before, and I'm not about to give up a good thing just because you're getting so hoity-toity and sensitive."

"You're damned right!" Big Frieda chimed in, her hungry eyes feasting on Melanie's fully-packed fanny. "We've been working up a new gimmick to spotlight you two for a long time and this triple-spectacular is it! Your new act is bound to be the biggest hit we've had in years. Yep, sex for profit night and day, anytime and anywhere, that's our motto."

"Down, and sit!" Priscilla ordered "Spiro" impatiently, pushing away the ecstatic dog still convulsed over her body. The Saint Bernard obediently climbed down, trotted over to the other end of the room, and sat on his haunches, panting. "I've got something special worked up for you, too, my Greek God," Priscilla cooed sweetly in my direction. She looked over at Big Frieda and winked. "Let 'J. Edgar' out of the closet, darling," she ordered. With an evil leer, the lezzie wolf followed her directions, patting Melanie affectionately on the behind as she went by.

Melanie and I looked at each other wondering what next. "If only I had some way to tell you about our escape plan," I thought to myself, as I observed the sick, questioning expression in her green eyes.

Just then, loud squealing noises filled the office, as an enormous round bellied, pink and white pig ran grunting from the closet. Melanie and I gasped as the swine made a beeline for Priscilla's snatch, as if on cue, nuzzling and sucking violently.

"Come on, blondie, meet your new co-worker. He's divine!" the sick boozehound laughed. Holding her sides with mirth, Priscilla cried, " 'J. Edgar,' meet Ken, your newest partner in crime. What a suck-sexual sensation you two are gonna be!"

"You're beautiful, your Highness-just beautiful!" Big Frieda commented, guffawing and slapping her knees in glee.

While they were preoccupied with their own joke, I whispered hurriedly in Melanie's ear. "Don't ask questions, but whatever happens, do exactly as I tell you. We'll be splitting this joint in the next hour!" Melanie looked at me, startled, and then her eyes began to shine with hope.

The office entrance door flew open as the tuxedoed, young tough of a doorkeeper from the VIP room entered and spoke in a low, husky voice. "Sorry to intrude, Miss Priscilla, but your two 'special' prosties are due on stage for the door prize bidding in three minutes." Even his blase manner was shattered when he got a good look at the snorting porker, slobbering away at Priscilla's crotch. Recovering his cool, he finally shrugged and left the room.

"Go peddle your choice prime butts on stage like good children, and we'll continue this little discussion later," Priscilla dismissed us like an empress excusing her subjects.

Melanie held my hand tightly as we headed toward the hallway, taking one last horrified look at panting "Spiro" and squealing "J. Edgar."

"Just follow your noses and I'll catch up in a jiffy," Big Frieda urged. Her beady eyes roamed over Melanie's voluptuous curves greedily, as she closed the office door behind us.

I suspected there was something fishy in Frieda letting us go out alone like that, so holding Melanie back, I pressed my ear against the door and strained to hear what was being said inside. It was easy to understand our two jailers conversing through the thin panel.

"By the way, sweets, I caught that old troll Prickett rapping to muscleboy in the Lounge alone and I could have sworn he was trying to hide some sort of metal strongbox behind his back. Did the old fart ever show up?" the suspicious lesbo rasped accusingly.

"Strongbox!" Priscilla gasped, obviously upset, her voice frightened, but angry. "No, I haven't seen that filthy, rotten double-dealing rat! If that mother-fucker got hold of our records of foreign dope sales, bank holdup receipts, or my file of imported teenage prostitutes, our asses will be 'federally' cooked! Look, while I check the vault, I want you to bring those two morons back here this minute, 'dya hear? I smell trouble!"

Sensing the mad flurry of anguish and confusion about to break on our heads, I whispered to Melanie, "Come on we're splitting!" Without further warning, I dragged my reluctant sidekick down the long corridor, desperately searching for an exit.

"Oh, Ken, we'll never make it! We'll never find a way out," Melanie sputtered breathlessly, as she stumbled along after me. "Those two are terrible! I'm afraid, I'm so afraid."

"Shut up!" I snapped in annoyance. Just then, I spotted a doorway marked "Exit." Wildly, I yanked the door open and shoved Melanie through, taking a quick glance back toward the office before following. "We can't stop now. This may be our only chance our last chance to get away," I exclaimed, racing frantically down the stairway.

When we reached the bottom, I turned to my gasping, naked sexmate. Even in our desperate situation, I couldn't take my eyes off her heaving, voluptuous boobies. "Honey, it's like this. The doc has planned to pick us up in his car and get us out of this whorehouse right now. He said he'd be parked just outside the backstage dressing room wherever the hell that is."

"Hey, you stupid shits!" an irritated voice thundered from above. Melanie and I jumped in fright, and then stood there paralyzed with fear, like two rabbits in front of a boa constrictor. Big Frieda loomed above us at the top of the stairs, her ugly face screwed up in a snarling grimace. "What the hell are you nitwits doing down there? You're supposed to be...."

"Move your ass!" I hissed at Melanie, pushing her through another doorway, and then pulling her along behind me as we ran down another long hall. We could hear Big Frieda following us, roaring like a bull, the stomping of her "gun boats" reverberating down the stairwell. In back of me, Melanie let out the most God-awful scream since Fay Wray in "King Kong." Alarmed, I glanced over my shoulder to see the puffing lesbian gaining on us and looking even more like the biggest dyke this side of the Zuyder Zee, her face flushed and red, and her barrel chest heaving with anger.

"Thank God for small favors," I breathed in relief, as I spotted the "Backstage Dressing Room" sign. Literally diving for the door, I yanked it open and pulled my terrified companion into the familiar perfume and sweat scented drag queen's dressing room. Desperately, I slammed it shut, pushed Melanie toward the back wall, and stood protectively in front of her hot, trembling nudeness. Her moist boobs and furry snatch pressed sensually against my perspiring slippery back.

Seconds later, like a raging tornado, the lezzie monster threw open the door and hurled toward me, her hammy hands automatically reaching for my throat. Quick as a flash, I dodged past her, threw myself against the door, and locked it to keep anyone else from coming in. Anothe ears-plitting shriek from Melanie warned me to turn just in time to face the bull lesbo's renewed charge. Prepared for a bloody showdown, I tried to dodge the sea of fists coming at me too late!

Our bodies crashed together as we battled like two boxers, raining reckless blows on one another anywhere we could connect. Unluckily, Frieda drew first blood. One of her gristly fists landed right on target over my left eye, and I really saw stars. Taking advantage of my temporary grogginess, she grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head viciously downward, and struck the back of my neck with a blow that would have felled an ox. Almost blacking out, I crumpled to my knees on th floor.

The room was whirling about like a merry-go-round, but with my one good eye, I could still see Melanie pleading with Frieda to leave us alone and trying to hold her back from undoing her massive belt buckle.

"Remove that hand or I'll remove your body!" Frieda snarled at poor frightened Melanie. "I'm going to teach this original 'no talent' a lesson, that nobody but nobody quits Priscilla! It's gonna be a real pleasure to impress that fact into pea brain over there," she threatened with a deliriously wicked grin.

"Get out of the way, Melanie!" I warned, as I recovered enough to get to my feet, one arm in front of my face to ward off the whizzing leather belt and metal buckle. I groaned in agony as whack after whack of the whipping strap seared across my bare arm, head, and shoulder. In spite of the pain, I closed in on my crazed flogger, determined to put an end to her torture.

I had about one split second to see Big Frieda's arm raise high for the kill. Then with all the strength left in me, I launched a rocketing fist through the air and landed it smack on Frieda's kisser, scattering blood and bits of teeth in all directions. Moaning, she dropped the belt to the floor and clutched her bleeding mouth with both hands. Grabbing the leather weapon as it fell, I wrapped it around her fat neck in a strangle hold, and then with a firm grip on both ends of the belt, dragged her toward the double mirrored dressing table. Shoving the choking lezzie from behind with all my might, I watched, panting, as Big Frieda plowed into the table like a Sherman tank, hitting it with a tremendous crash. Cosmetics and makeup kits flew in all directions, and the long mirror shattered into a million pieces.

"Oh, my poor baby," Melanie rushed over and threw her arms around me.

"Outside let's go!" I choked, dragging my pain racked body with Melanie's help toward the door. Once outside in the night air, I felt a surge of relief. To think, we were finally going to escape from Priscilla's slavery and this whole bad scene! A moment later, I groaned in dismay. There was no car and no Dr. Prickett in sight anywhere. Just total darkness.

"Oh, Jesus, no!" I cried, looking up and down the road anxiously. "Haven't we had enough bad breaks already? This is a real bummer, believe me."

"Oh, darling, where is he? Where is Dr. Prickett?" Melanie whimpered hysterically, clasping and unclasping her hands and batting her saucer-sized green eyes helplessly at me.

To make things even worse, Big Frieda, fully recovered, appeared in the doorway. "I'll fix you, you wormy male pig!" she cursed, practically frothing at the mouth. We stood frozen, unable to think of any way to escape her attack. Then she took off toward us, one hand reaching for my throat, while the other held up her sagging pants.

Just at that moment, like a miracle, we heard the sound of a car speeding down the gravel drive in the dark. It screeched to a halt only feet away from us. The front door was flung open and we heard Dr. Prickett's welcome voice calling our names.

"Oh, thank heavens, it's Dr. Prickett at last," Melanie almost swooned in ecstasy, as she ran to the car and leaped into the front seat. I turned to hold up the oncoming rush of Big Frieda.

"Why you son of a bitching, double-crossing traitors!" she snapped, a look of pure hatred blazing from her freaked-out eyes. Then she came at me like a football lineman.

Ready for her this time, I threw a body block and hit her with such force, she landed on the ground as if a ten ton truck had clipped her. For a time, she lay there completely winded. Taking advantage of her zonked out state, I yanked her loose trousers down till they lay tangled around her army boots. I had to laugh in spite of myself at the sight of her boxer undershorts and the thick dark patch or wiry pubic hair protruding menacingly through the open fly.

"Whoever said, "A good pussy is the best fly trap?'" I thought, as I got up, ran over and jumped into the back seat of the waiting limousine. But before I could get the door shut, I felt an icy grip fasten around my ankle and pull at me violently. Relentlessly, Big Frieda had crawled after me and was making one last do or die effort to hang on to her victim.

"Oh, God, not again! This is unbelievable! I can't stand it! I just can't take it any longer!" Melanie got completely hysterical in the front seat.

"Get rid of that lard ass, Ken, for Christ's sake! We've got to get the hell out of here before those strong-armed goons come running!" Dr. Prickett wailed panic-stricken.

"Fuck this shit!" I thought in disgust, and drove my knee into Frieda's bulging midsection. She let out a piggish grunt and doubled up in pain, out of breath again for another precious minute. "O.K., 'Mac,' you wanta come along for the ride, huh?" I jested, grabbing her by the hair, and with my other hand, pulling at her underpants. With one mighty tug, I lifted the hefty moose clear through the door and into the back of the automobile. Her shorts ripped apart in my hands, exposing several acres of whit flabby posterior to full view.

Big Frieda's head hit the opposite door of the Rolls Royce with a bony thud, and she lay there on the floor wedged tightly between the front and back seats. like a wrestler, I jumped and landed full force on the butch girl's meaty back. My nude front covered her naked seat snugly, as I pressed against her to keep her under control. The warmth of her soft, chunky rump sent a sexy shock through my hairy crotch and my long, limp penis, now squeezed in between her sweaty cleft.

"Close that door, Melanie!" Dr. Prickett shouted, jammed his foot of the accelerator, gunned the motor, and took off down the winding road, tires screeching.

With the ferociousness of a trapped animal, Big Frieda fought to escape from under me. "Get off, you dumb cocksucker, or I'll castrate you with my own bare hands!" Grimly determined, I kept my hold in silence, pushing my lengthening dick further into her wobbling buttocks. I began breathing faster with the exciting tenseness of the situation.

Foolishly, I loosened the pressure on her shoulders for just a second, and raised myself up far enough to look down at my own maleness pressing sexily into her backside. That's all Big Frieda needed. With one strong thrust, she bounced her head backward, and caught me with her bullet hard skull just above my sore eye, another direct hit on the same spot as before. The pain brought tears to my eyes, as a massive bruise began to form. My eyeball was now swollen and beginning to close completely.

"Ooooohhh, you dirty bastard!" I sobbed, the agony from my hurt face making my body shiver. "I'll fix your fucking ass dyke!" I promised, and deliberately ground my groin into her fleshy rear. Working up a steel-like hard-on, I threatened her with an honest to goodness rape job. "How about a nice, fat nine incher cocksicle?"

Big Frieda flinched and answered defiantly. "I swear to Christ, I'll kill you if you try anything stupid, prick face. Do you hear me? I'll kill you!"

"Just relax, 'girlie,' and you'll soon be in seventh heaven." Breathing hotly, I buried my face between her thick neck and shoulder. I deliberately pressed the moist spongy tip of my hardness against her sensitive anal entrance, a spark of electricity passing between us. The astonished les tensed, then tried to break loose in a last wrenching and jerking attempt to free herself from her cramped position. "Attagirl fight it, fight it!" I yelled, slowly and relentlessly piercing her tight, hair lined hole with my driving rapier. "I love your ass," I cooed, as the pressure from her all-encompassing canal brought me little by little to the height of passion.

Without warning, the car made a sharp swerve on the winding road, throwing Big Frieda's huge carcass hard against me. I gave out with a long, animal moan, as my loaded machine, aided by the car motion, plunged in a full soul-stirring penetration all the way between her plump cheeks. I felt a throbbing of pure pleasure surge through my legs and genitals as my hips ground wildly forward and backward in long, clean movements. I reveled in the firmness and elasticity of her flesh, as I screwed like a lust-crazed rapist.

Big Frieda, wriggling and squirming, seemed genuinely shocked at my surprise attack on her virginal butt. Her horse face was twisted with hatred and disgust with my carnal assault. Ignoring her displeasure, I pumped away until we were both gasping in time with the sucking rhythm of our bodies. With my eyes closed and my chin dug roughly into her back, I abandoned myself to the fun. Jerking up and down with fiercer and fiercer jabs, I could feel the approach of a delicious climax.

The Rolls Royce ground to a sudden halt, and Dr. Prickett switched off the headlights, leaving us blacked out in the darkness of the night. Annoyed by the interruption, just as I was about to shoot my wad, I looked up with my one good eye. Staring back down at me were the apprehensive doctor and little nervous Melanie. For a minute or two, they both just gaped in silence at what they saw.

"Oh, sweetheart, your face is a mess," Melanie finally blurted out. "You hateful cunt!" she screamed accusingly at the writhing amazon brute beneath me.

"Good God, Kenneth. What on earth's gotten into you? Here we are, our lives in dreadful danger, and you're fucking around on the floor. You really must be sick! Well, we've got to get rid of that bitch pronto, and for good!" Dr. Prickett scolded impatiently. "Wait a minute! I know what we'll do. I've got some stuff right here in my bag that'll knock her out for hours. One shot in the rear and she'll be cold as a mackerel in minutes. Then we'll dump her at the side of the road, and get the hell out of here." With that, he fumbled inside a valise that rested between him and Melanie on the front seat.

"Are my ears deceiving me, or did I hear right?" Big Frieda piped up hysterically. "Listen, you impotent old fag. If you stick a needle in this babe's ass, you'll be sorry you were ever born! I'll get even with you if it takes me a lifetime!" Desperate, she began bucking like a wild mare, hell-bent on shaking me off her naked back.

"Keep your trap shut, you twat, or I'll beat you to death!" I threatened, hanging on for dear life. I pulled up on my arm lock, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and used all my strength to maneuver her so that a sizable hunk of her broad derriere would be within striking range of the doctor's hypodermic needle. At the same time, my body quivered in ecstasy as each and every bounce of her tail massaged my bigger than life-sized organ toward newer heights of passion.

"Oh, be careful, darlings, and pu-leeze hurry!" Melanie whined, looking apprehensively through the rear window, wringing her hands.

"Come on, doc, damn it. Shove the frigging needle in!" I shouted impatiently. The luscious action of those blubbery cheeks against my lower belly caused me to gasp with involuntary delight. The pressure of her rectal passage throttling my blood-gorged column so tightly was gradually driving me right out of my skull.

"Attaboy, sonny, hold the patient still just one more second," Dr. Prickett puffed jubilantly, his grinning face red and flushed as he leaned far over the front seat and aimed a menacing long needle at the bouncing fanny of the frantic lavender fem. When the glistening metal point found its mark, Big Frieda let out a shriek like a stuck pig. Dr. Prickett's approving grunt reassured us the contents were now safely well inside her buttocks.

Moaning like a savage animal, the panting lesbian's eyes were already glazing over. This was for real, and she knew it! With a desperate whimper, Frieda fought the effects of the drug, but in just a few seconds, her struggles ceased and she lay still and limp. Meanwhile, my throbbing erection was still buried deep in that unresponding hot chasm. Its tight pleasurable grip didn't let up. In fact, the pressure seemed to intensify, if anything. Very carefully, I relaxed my hold on the dormant lezzie. With my full weight on top of her sweaty torso, I let go of her arm and head. I gulped with the wild sensation of having my privates completely trapped in the slippery heat of Frieda's anal prison. In spite of myself, I knew I was now too far gone to abandon my victim till I'd gone all the way to final orgasm.

In the excitement, neither Dr. Prickett nor Melanie seemed aware of my dilemma. He heaved a sigh of relief as he slid back down in the driver's seat and fumbled with his carrying case in the dark. Melanie patted him approvingly on the head.

"Thank you, my dear," Dr. Prickett smiled, wheezing noisily. "Now just let me catch my breath for a moment or two. It'll take all three of us, you know, to drag this bloated hunk of blubber out of the car."

With only seconds to spare, I feverishly reached around Big Frieda with both hands, digging underneath her leather jacket and damp t-shirt, hunting for the warm globes of her monstous breasts. First, I found her nipples, like hard firm nuts, then I cupped both her voluptuous tits.

Almost tearing them apart, I clawed and dug with my fingers deep into the balloon shaped mounds. "God Almighty!" I breathed passionately, my fuck-maddened joint fighting the walls of her opening for space, more space, steeping itself in her zonked out body. Thrill upon thrill lashed at my groin, as our sweaty flesh met and parted, met and parted. I growled deep in my throat as long low whimpers of joy came from my lips. It was just too much, man! Huge breasts, wide hips, and the two soft, close-together muscles of that double-cushioned bottom.

Moving easily and fearlessly into that slippery hole, I rose and fell all the way in one last stroke and finally exploded with a great shudder, a lavish eruption that started between my legs and rose through my stomach to my tongue. I felt the hot wash of the spreading sperm bathe my rutting machine in a warm flood and lost myself in the oblivion of her juicy abyss. "If this dyke could only feel my cock tearing her ass hole apart, she'd never forget me!" I thought to myself, as the receptively passive rear end surrounded and accepted my throbbing manhood, drinking its surging cargo dry. My body went tense as the paralysis of climax began to take over, while my lust-flushed brain nearly swooned with the delight of the thick shooting, earth shaking spurts. I rocked and jolted with insatiable desire as I continued to plow, plow, plow, forcing my way fully inside her come-filled tunnel of love.

Victorious and gratified, I slumped over exhausted, limp as a rag. I hung on to the slowly diminishing orgiastic throbs still pulsing through my rigid two-by-four, as my chest rose and fell against her sweaty, jizz-flecked backside. I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in time with my throbbing, spent tool I smiled to myself and tried to visualize Frieda's face when she woke up to the ache and pain in her stretched, overflowing rectum.

"Let's get moving, Melanie. Every minute counts!" Dr. Prickett yelled, jumping out and running around the other side of the limousine to open her door.

I reluctantly withdrew my saturated tube from Big Frieda's corn-holed socket, just as Dr. Prickett opened the back door, next to my feet. Slowly, I lifted my played out body up off the ravished and now snoring butch female.

"You grab that end, Kenny, while we hoist the tail," Dr. Prickett suggested, his eyes riveted on my oozing, drenched club.

I turned around clumsily in the tight quarters to face my two fellow conspirators, my rump pressing against the opposite door. Momentarily, my good eye zeroed in on Melanie's swaying melons and her triangular centerpiece. I had forgotten that she was still bare-assed to the breeze, too. Leaning forward, I reached around Big Frieda's overblown body and wrapped both my arms around her fully packed bosom. Getting a good grip on her gigantic knockers, I lifted upward with one mighty tug, my dripping straight-shooter resting atop the dangling frowsy head of our unconscious victim.

Big Fireda's dungarees were still pulled down and twisted at her ankles just above her size twelve Army boots, so Melanie and Dr. Prickett had to lift both heavy legs at once. Weaving and stumbling like drunken clowns, they pulled and I shoved till we finally got "two-ton Tillie" out of the car.

"Over here, kids," Dr. Prickett directed, as we carried the limp les to the dirt embankment at the side of the highway.

"Oh, Dr. Prickett, look back that way! I see car lights!" Melanie cried, wide-eyed and hysterical, as she stared in the direction of the Cock 'N' Clit Country Club.

That was all we needed to hear! With one mighty heave, we tossed the weighty, half nude dyke over the curbing and watched her knocked out carcass roll till it came to rest against a metal signpost. She was still sleeping like a baby, thank God!

"Jesus, let's get the fuck out of here!" Dr. Prickett whimpered. He sounded really scared as he watched the distant headlights coming closer and closer. "It's Priscilla's strongmen, I just know it!" he said, grabbing Melanie's hand and running to the parked limousine. They dove inside like panic-stricken bunnies.

In spite of the approaching danger, curiosity got the best of me. I just had to take one last look at good old Frieda before leaving her forever. Straining to see in the moonlight, I bent over close to our snoring enemy. My eyes moved up to the sign she was leaning against. I let out a huge guffaw, got up, and with one strong leap, landed in the front seat of the Rolls next to Melanie. We zoomed away, tires shrieking. Dr. Prickett and Melanie, both nervous as cats, looked annoyed at my hilarity as we sped down the freeway to freedom.

"What' so damn funny?" Dr. Prickett asked, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

"That sign Frieda crashed into! Far out!" I gasped, still doubled up with laughter.

"What did it say, for God's sake?" Melanie asked, a little irritated at my private joke.

"No dumping!" I screamed in delight.

That seemed to break the tension. We sped away from the scene of our escapade, chortling and giggling like kids after a Halloween prank.

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