soul-kissed, our tongues, still reeking of each other's cunts, stabbing pungently into each other's mouths. Down below, the mouths of our pussies sealed each other like gaskets, fusing together as we fucked, reaming each other out with the foot and a half of hard meat between us.
I had been coming steadily all along, but now one whale of an orgasm surfaced within me. Suddenly I found myself totally haywire, all my sensations, all my feelings, and all my emotions centered in my twitching, juicing cunt. I squeezed my pussy muscles like a vise on the hard meat inside me and felt it start to give. In a minute it was crushed, the tough link of sausage turned into patties inside my meat grinder of a cunt.
As I creamed and convulsed, I stole a glance and saw that Melanie was having the same experience, her eyes rolling like a slot machine as she lifted her head back and thrust her adolescent cunt at me, pounding our clits together so that the seal of our pussy-lips was broken, and our cunt-juice foamed in a thick lather at our crotches.
'I'm coming, I'm coming!' she cried. 'I'm coming one last time! Hold me, let me come in your arms!'
Our tits crashed together and then we collapsed and shuddered in each other's embrace. We drove our cunt-mounds together, gouging the thick hunk of meat joining us against the mouths of our wombs as we felt our climaxes suddenly shared. Orgasmic power flowed between us through the connections of our tongue-fucking mouths, our pressing tits and stabbing nipples, and our meatily welded cunts. We trembled convulsively in each other's grasp as the coming reduced us to quivering wrecks, total slaves to the agonizingly perfect domination of our bodies by our erotic instincts.
Finally we were through and stopped, running down as though we were machines whose springs had unwound. As we fell away from each other, my legs splayed and I exhaustedly threw an arm across the front of my naked body, my hand dangling on top of my oozing cunt. Immediately I could feel the juices flooding from me, drenching my fingers with their stickiness. I couldn't resist the temptation to taste my cunt and drew my hand to my mouth and lapped the dripping gop sticking to my fingers. The surprise tanginess of the sausage mixed in with my pussy-juice startled and delighted me, and quickly my hand was back at my cunt, gouging for another load of goodness.
Melanie saw what I was doing and cried, 'Look… look!' pointing to the space between us on the bed.
I looked to where she was pointing and gasped deliriously, 'Oh, my God!'
What was left of the sausage was lying on the bedspread, all but a few inches of it gouged off and missing.
'It's in our cunts!' Melanie shrieked with joy.
'Let's have a midnight snack!' I cried, completely invigorated within a few magical seconds.
We sprang upright and leaped at each other, wrestling off the bed and onto the floor until each of us found a place in the other's crotch, our mouths greedily eating at our cunts for the succulent stew of Polish sausage and pussy. Immediately my tongue found a chunk of the savory goodness and passed it to my ravenous mouth. Greedily I wolfed down the pussy-juice marinated sausage, piggishly going for more as I felt Melanie doing the same thing in my cunt, splitting my snatch apart with her tongue and mouth to get at the goodies.
The more pussy I ate the more I came, giving Melanie more and more treasure to mine in the mother-lode of my cunt. In my own mouth, dessert was the continuous cream Melanie was spewing in my face as I ate her pussy, both our twats foaming so uncontrollably that the section of the carpet on which we writhed was sure to still be a swamp in the morning.
We rolled and moaned, ate and sucked, devouring each other's pussies until we were blinded and stilled by exhaustion. At last we lay quiet again, my head resting on the pillow of Melanie's cunt, my cheek pressed against her wet pussy-lips. Her hand nestled between my thighs, one finger symbolically stuck inside my cunt, turning me on even in my aching semiconsciousness. Finally, the black curtain of sleep descended over me and I was out like a light, content that I had brought some happiness into this poor teenager's unfortunate life.
CHAPTER SIX
When I woke up naked on the floor, wallowing in a sticky pool of my own pussy-juice, Melanie was gone. I got up and hurriedly covered myself and looked frantically around the apartment for her.
But she was definitely gone. And the more I looked around the more I discovered that Melanie wasn't all that was gone. My wallet, my Sony portable color TV, my clock radio, my tape deck, my microwave oven, and my Crockpot were all missing, and my medicine cabinet was cleaned out.
Slowly it dawned on me. Melanie had ripped me off! I started to say out loud, 'The little bitch,' but was quickly seized by regret and a longing to have her back immediately, under any circumstances.
I started for the phone to call the agency to tell them that Melanie was gone, but on the way I stopped short as something occurred to me in a blinding, sobering flash. I was acting like one of the people who wrote to Madame Fellatio. Like the one who'd gotten mixed up with the lesbian named Margo and then had been taken advantage of by her. Yes, I could clearly remember the plaintive words of her desperate letter: 'Logically, I should have been happy to get rid of such a leech, but all I could feel was a dead sensation in my breasts, and a throbbing in my cunt as she walked out…'
Yes, there was no doubt about it, I was acting just like that over Melanie. It depressed me for a moment, but then I suddenly realized my actions must have been inspired, a calculated ploy by God to force me to have the same experiences as my correspondents so I could have genuine empathy and really reach them!
Immediately I knew why God had put me through this experience and what my mission was. Instead of just writing an answer, I would reply in person to the most wretched letter I could find. I would bring Christ personally to the poorest soul I could find. My heart sang as I dashed in to take a quick bath before I put on my clothes and raced to the office to find the letter.
I didn't even notice what time of day it was as the cab sped me towards the office. The sky was gray and murky, but I assumed that was because it was about to rain as I ignored what was going on outside and concentrated on the good I was going to do once I found the letter I was looking for.
The cab dropped me off in front of the building and for the first time I noticed that there was nobody on the street. I walked to the entrance of the building and tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. I turned around in frustration and noticed the sky again. Now I realized that it wasn't going to rain at all, it was just very early morning. I decided not to let it bother me, figuring that the solitude would give me a better chance to discover the one letter I was looking for. The only problem was how to get into the building.
I remembered an emergency exit in the back. Shark had fixed it up without telling the landlord so it would open from the outside and he could get in and out of the building whenever somebody came around to serve him with a summons in an obscenity or a libel case. I went around to it and let myself in, trying to focus my eyes in the darkness after I closed the door behind me. I was disoriented at first, but by the time I was in the lobby I knew where I was and headed towards the elevator. As I fumbled for the up-button, I suddenly felt as thought I was sure I'd heard something. Not anything loud, just a soft padding.
'Probably rats,' I distastefully concluded aloud. 'And probably all from Shark's office since he never has them cleaned.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
My office was just like I'd left it, embalmed in time because of Shark's stinginess about hiring a regular janitor. (I suspected that the old woman who came in to supposedly clean the place once in a blue moon was probably some relative of Shark's… perhaps his mother.) The roaches had started a regular colony by now on my blotter, and didn't bother to move when I walked in and interrupted them.
Thinking kindly of the roaches as just some more of God's wondrous creatures, I let them be and turned my attention toward the reason why I had come up here – finding the perfect letter to answer in person. Only then would Madame Fellatio be sanctified.
It was funny, but the closer I came to realizing the potential of her ability to spread the word of Christ, the
