Can I stick my tongue inside your hot, wet pussy?'
I smiled as I felt the exhaustion flee from my body, the full force of passion returning in a rush. I found myself anticipating yet another eruption of his syrupy jizz, this time hotly filling my sucking mouth and washing stickily down my throat to fill my stomach.
'Yes, yes,' I begged, 'stick your tongue in my pussy while I suck your prick. Let's do it now!'
He grasped his rigid cock in a trembling hand and pulled it with a pop from my sopping cunt, crawling backward on his knees before he dropped flat on his stomach, burying his face in my muskily dripping gash. I closed my eyes to experience the total feel of what he was doing to me, and when three inches of his stiff tongue stabbed up my spasming pussy, I had a quick, savage orgasm as I realized he was tasting the sweet nectar of his own sperm with which his spurting prick had filled my cunt.
'Oh, sweet Jesus,' I breathed with sheer delight, 'you make me so terribly, wonderfully hot. Do anything you want to me.'
He did not answer me verbally, once again possessed by the demon sex. He twisted his stiff tongue around in my cunt like a corkscrew as he turned his body around so that he was on his hands and knees, his legs straddling my upper body. As he ate my drooling cunt, I gazed longingly up between the spread cheeks of his smooth, white ass directly over my face. Grasping his waist with both hands, I pulled my head up between the sweating crack of his spread cheeks, and with my heart pounding dreadfully, kissed his puckering asshole repeatedly.
With the taste of his ass still tingling in my mouth, I slid my tongue down his crack and went for his tightly hanging balls, greedily getting one and then both of the slippery eggs inside my mouth, sucking them so hard I thought they were going to turn inside out.
After I had sucked, nibbled and teased his swollen balls to the verge of bursting, I was ready for the main course. 'Ahhh,' I cried, releasing his nuts, 'give it to me, baby!'
He lifted his body slightly, pushing his prick backward a little until I caught the knobby end of it with my swollen lips. While he continued to lick and suck my gaping pussy, his cock entered my mouth and I felt it growing even larger and harder against my tongue and gums, the bulging head pushing all the way down my slippery throat; I struggled to breathe properly, raspily choking from the burden that drove down my throat like a saber.
'Suck me!' he cried into my cunt. 'Oh, Jesus, suck me off!'
I had every intention of doing exactly that. His prick was so hard and long and thick and lovely and delicious… I could have sucked it nonstop for a week. His bare haunches pressed against my face and I could smell the musky scent of his flesh as well as the sexy odor of his wet cock and balls. I was so deliriously happy that I sighed even as I sucked his cock. Then I grasped the cheeks of his ass fiercely, hanging on for dear life as I moved my head up and down, madly mouth-fucking the guy's thrillingly rigid cock. Frantically, I worked my lips back and forth in blissful suction, using every trick at my command to make him come for a fourth time. He moaned beyond control as he fucked me in the mouth, doing an equally intense job down below with his stabbing tongue in my gratefully oozing cunt.
Once again I had a wildly exhilarating orgasm, and for the first time the teen came simultaneously with me. His cock went off in my mouth with the force of a geyser, the torrent of his hot cum striking the roof of my mouth so intensely that I was forced to swallow in slurping gags as he continued to fill and re-fill my mouth repeatedly. While I choked from the massive gobs of sperm that filled my throat, my pussy-walls constricted mightily around his tongue as I writhed in total, unrestrained coming. I felt my senses reel and my body swoop and soar from the thrusting forces pounding at each hole, reality ebbing rapidly from my consciousness as I asked myself one last question before I collapsed: 'Where is he getting it all?' I moaned thickly, wrapping my tongue around his still surging dick to form the prick-and-sperm-muffled words before the blackness overtook me.
When I regained consciousness, he was gone. There was no telling how long I had been lying there. He had taken the trouble to drag me behind some garbage pails so nobody would discover me and try to take advantage of me in my fuck-induced sleep. That teen was a gentleman to the end. His parents should be proud of him.
CHAPTER THREE
The weekend flew by after my intoxicating encounter with the nameless teen in the alley. Fucking that clean, innocent teen had made me clean and innocent inside. I felt the grime that had accumulated on my soul from being Madame Fellatio five days a week starting to fade, replaced by the sparkling memory of the teen's graceful, shining prick inside my cunt and mouth, and the remembrance of his endlessly spurting sperm that bathed my insides with its stickiness. His cum had been like a detergent that had scrubbed me clean, making me temporarily feel that life wasn't such a bad deal after all. And if I could be as happy as this just from sucking and fucking a teenager, then there was hope for the miserable souls who wrote in to Madame Fellatio.
But my new-found euphoria evaporated the instant I walked into my dingy office. Shark was too cheap to hire a regular janitorial service, and trash dating all the way back to the middle of last week was littered and crumpled around my office, a half a cup of coffee having started to turn a poisonous shade of green on top of my desk. Roaches feasted on the crumbs from my last Friday's lunch, totally unconcerned when I came into the room as they continued their munching.
I sat down, and instead of brushing a path of cleanliness across the top of my desk, I flopped back in my chair, already exhausted at nine in the morning, and watched the roaches feast. I was just getting to the point where I could recognize one roach from another when I was suddenly startled upright in my chair. When I glanced over to the roaches on my blotter, I saw that for the first time they were frightened and were scurrying away.
'Well, well,' Shark smirked, 'if it isn't the Dear Abby of the crotch-set, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and rarin' to go. Got the sunshine machine ready, poopsie?'
I felt like joining the roaches, but instead I managed a weak and hypocritical smile and mumbled, 'Yeah, sure… I left it out in the hall.'
'Ho, ho,' he laughed, which I knew was a put-on, because when something really amused Shark he went 'Heh, heh.'
'Listen, Shark,' I said, suddenly feeling testy, 'the only time you play the part of jolly good fellow is when you have some ulterior motive in the back of your mind… some new thing you want to get away with.'
'Madame F,' he said with a phony wail, putting his arms out and his palms upward in a stagey gesture of innocence. 'Would I do something like that, boobie?'
'You would and have,' I snapped.
'Well, now that you mention it,' he said quickly, the, hail-fellow-well-met facade dropping like a trapdoor, the lines of his face suddenly slanting down instead of up, the thin slit of his mouth closing like a steel trap, 'there is something I want to talk to you about… Ah, let me amend that, something I want to tell you.'
'Yes,' I sighed, weary before he actually told me what it was, feeling certain in advance that it would be some atrocity and I would have to put my brains and guts in a turmoil while I decided which was more important to me – my integrity or my paycheck. So far I'd been weak enough to always pick the latter. But the new insight I'd felt about Christ on Friday, which came back to me now fully as I sat in the chair and office where it was conceived, suddenly gave me the courage to hope that this time I could survive Shark with my integrity intact.
'Frankly, little lady,' he said with the oily glibness he always adopted whenever he was certain he had the upper hand, 'the freaks are getting tired of the stuff in your column.'
'How can that be?' I replied, struggling to hold my own, praying for Christ to back me up. 'They're the ones who write the damn letters. If they don't like reading them, they should stop sending them.'
'And we'd be in the used-corduroy business,' Shark snapped. 'The freaks are what makes us go…'
'You, Shark, you,' I interrupted. 'I think I'm stalled.'
'Listen,' he hissed, 'the letters stay as they are. It's the answers that have to change.'
'How do you mean?' I asked defensively. 'Well, you have to make them different. The fact is we're dealing with space-age letters and we're using Jewish-mother answers,' he rambled. 'We're still giving him that old crap about anything two consenting adults do. That's for liberals during the '50's, not his generation of weirdos. These people are strange. They don't want to be patted on the head and brushed off with an Ann Landers one-liner when
