babydoll. I'm gonna fuck you black and blue.'
'Promises, promises, promises,' moaned Sharon. Then she reached down and took hold of the Monster Man's phallus head. She took the mushroom head and pressed it up against her clitoris. She switched her hips back and forth so that the man's meaty stick would go sliding against her pussy button, rubbing against her twat lips, making her hole as hefty and juicy as possible. It was nice for her to feel so much sexual stimulation in one place at one time.
'Aren't you going to lick my titties, too, Mr. Monster Man?'
He smiled back at her. 'Gimme those things,' he said. He leaned over her tits and started gobbling. He worked those two hefty mammaries up and down with just his tongue. The giant from Jack And The Beanstalk couldn't have given her a better tonguing. The Monster Man's tongue was everywhere, licking and sucking, making it with her nipples and giving her the kind of chest thrill that she was looking for. It was oral delight for the two of them.
But just when things were getting good and hot, just when Sharon Pettibone's pussy was starting to leak at full strength, and just when the room was beginning to take on that musty scent of clit juice and ooze, the telephone started ringing. 'Jesus fucking God,' cried Sharon, 'can't a girl get a little peace and quiet around here!' She reached out from between her legs and answered the phone. It was her father. 'I forgot my briefcase, Sharon, darling, and if I don't get it right away, I won't be able to sign a very important deal. Would you mind bringing it into the office?'
'Daddy,' pleaded Sharon, 'didn't Mother tell you I was in bed with Swine Flu?'
'Sharon, little darling, your daddy's been around a lot longer than that. Now get out of bed and get into a cab and bring me my brief case.' The line went dead. Sharon slammed the receiver with the hook. 'Jesus fucking Christ,' she moaned, 'if I had plague he'd make me come in there.' She climbed out of bed and dressed herself in pajamas and a robe. She didn't bother locking up the house. She took the brief case, tied her robe shut, and strutted down to the corner, a fairly major boulevard where, in bathrobe and pajamas she hailed a cab.
In the back of the cab, having given the cabbie directions to her father's office, Sharon spread her legs out. She reached down between her loins and hoped the cabbie couldn't see what she was doing. 'Fuck,' she murmured to herself as she discovered her still erect clitoris. 'This is going to be alright after all.' With her free hand she lifted her father's attache case over her lap and used it for camouflage. She rubbed her cunt with the satchel sitting on her knees. 'Mmmmm,' she hummed softly, and soon the happy image of the Monster Man and his magic flesh wand came back to mind. She saw him sharpening the tip of his flesh sword, honing it into a fine ready blade with which he was going to puncture her virgin ribbon. She spread her legs and yelled at him: 'Come on you mother fucker and stuff me up good! Give it to me hard so I can have me some memories to tell the grandkids, eh? Ha, ha, ha. Come on and fuck me, Monster Man. Or is that meat of yours better called Monster Midget Meat? Ho, ho, ho…' He came at her with his flesh cock ready to cut her up good. He stuffed her with it by spreading her legs with his hands and entering her in one long stroke. He jammed down deep and filled her to the gills. She rolled and rocked and twisted around on the impaling giant's sword. She was pinned down like a cute little earthworm with nowhere to go. From now on she would be nothing but bait…
The cab pulled to a stop in front of the Handprick Building where Mr. Pettibone worked. Sharon, coming to from her backseat bliss, handed the cabbie a fiver and told him to sit tight. The cabbie, no dummy, smiled, winked, and waited. Sharon took the elevator upstairs.
On the fiftieth floor a guard asked Sharon: 'What the hell are you doing going around in a bathrobe, young lady?' She smiled, turned her back on him, and pulled up the back of her robe, and let down her pajama bottoms in order to give the aged guard a look-see at her rear hole. 'I'm going for a stroll,' she shouted at him looking upside down from between her legs. The guard grabbed his chest, heaved backwards as though he'd been shot at close range and fell over. Sharon stood up and continued on her way to her father's office.
'Mmm,' she said, entering the door marked PETTIBONE, 'something smells good in here…' The secretary and a delivery boy disengaged. They had been French kissing over the secretary's typewriter when Sharon entered. 'Ahem, yes, ahem,' coughed the secretary, 'Miss Pettibone, may I help you?' The messenger took a seat off to the side. Sharon couldn't help but eyeball the young man's tumescent crotch. 'Well, yes,' she said, sitting down next to the messenger and putting the attache case on her lap, 'I have a parcel for my daddy.' She smiled demurely and when the secretary looked the other way she reached over into the messenger's groin. 'Just testing,' she said. 'Mmm, nice and firm. See ya,' and with that she stood up and smiled, having teased the man nicely, ready now to move on with the day's business. She turned back to the startled and frustrated youth and said: 'I'd go all the way but I got Swine Flu!' The boy backed into a corner and covered his mouth: 'Get away!' he shrieked. 'Get away you wench! Are you trying to kill me? Get away!' Sharon coughed and the lad nearly struck her down. He would have, too, were it not for the fact that just then Mr. Pettibone came from his office and strutted out with a bright cherry smile and said: 'Where's the case, Sharon?' Sharon lifted the case, and, without saying even one single word to her father (he had, after all, ruined her masturbatory day), she turned and marched, still in her bathrobe and pajamas, out of the office. 'Feel better, darling,' shouted her father after her, but the office door was already swinging shut.
In the hallway, a great many people were gathered around the guard who had fallen to the floor. Now he was just coming to when Sharon happened by on her way out of the building. 'How are you feeling?' she asked as she walked by, and the guard nodded and then started to say, 'That's her!' But before he could finish his sentence, Sharon had pulled open her robe and spread her jamies so that her big left tit blazed in a flash of creamy flesh which caused the guard to pass out again. He grabbed his chest and flopped down, this time dead.
On the elevator, pressed to the back by a crowd of no less than fifteen, and under the camouflage of her robe, Sharon reached into her pajamas and started to play with herself again. She wanted to be good and hot by the time she got back into the cab and was on her way home. She flicked her clit, without anyone seeing her, several times in a row. She even moaned softly from time to time, but she tried to time these passionate outbursts with the stopping and starting of the elevator, that way not bringing herself to the attention of the various passengers. On her way out of the elevator she couldn't resist reaching out and grabbing a quick little pinch of the elevator attendant's butt. She was surprised when the attendant squeaked at her: 'That's enough of that, all day long the same thing.' He was a woman.
The cabbie had waited as planned. He honked from across the street when Sharon appeared out of the swinging glass doors of the Handprick Building. She ran through traffic, amidst screeching breaks and stalling suddenly stopped cars, and made her way into the back seat of the cab. 'Jesus,' she moaned. 'I don't understand why people go to work like this. It doesn't look like a whole hell of a lot of fun.' The cabbie pulled out into the late morning traffic.
On the way back home Sharon began to think about what it would be like to really make love with the messenger she had met upstairs in her father's building. She had never been so brazen as that before, and the feet of the messenger's cock in her fingers certainly did give her little heart a good start. She was properly primed, she decided, for more of the same. 'Jesus,' she moaned to herself, and she slipped her two hands under her robe down between her legs where she could feel and play with herself as she saw fit.
She imagined a couple of guys and a couple of girls, one of which was herself, out on the beach screwing their brains out. Only this time the boy she was with was not the Monster Man. He was a young volley ball player named Rick Ostoyja who had countless times told her how much he loved her in school. Only Rick wasn't the most attractive guy around, and Sharon couldn't figure out why she'd thought about screwing with him. After all, in her head she had the choice of any man with any meat. Why not chose some handsome actor type or something? But she went with Rick in the fantasy, and she enjoyed the thrill of getting his hot hog into A-1 shape. She rolled it between her two palms, treated it like a tortilla, and before long she had turned the fantasy worm into a huge, fleshy snake — one that she was sure would be happy to coil up inside her tube. She spread her legs wider and continued with her masturbatory enjoyment. 'Mmmmm,' she hummed to herself, 'I sure do wish I could get the real thing.' She didn't know it, but the cabbie had overheard her.
When they finally pulled over in front of their parents' house in the suburbs, she started to get out of the car from the right side. But the cabbie came around and told her that he wanted to help her out. She didn't mind that, but she didn't like the tone of his voice. She lifted one leg and her pajamas and robe spread out. The pajamas were cut at the thighs, and Sharon's legs were in perfect sight for about five seconds. The cabbie leaned down and took a sassy stroke at that fresh warm flesh. The teenager slapped him across the face and yelled: 'It's for your own good!' She scrambled out of the car, passed the stunned driver. 'But I thought you were looking for the real thing,'
