SchlongChapter 2 free porn video

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Betsy Lou Krupke was as close to the girl next door as I had. She spent the first few years of her life in Wisconsin and had that healthy, farm girl look about her, blond pigtails, freckles and all. She was a twenty year younger version of her mother, albeit over 70 pounds lighter, and without her mother's trademark blue gingham dress, similar to what Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz.

Her father was a cop — Officer Krupke. He was just as gullible as his namesake from West Side Story, but nothing like him in looks. He must have weighed in at 250, most of it muscle. Kind of off-blond hair, impossible to comb into anything that would stay put for more than a minute or two. I remember the blond hair on his arms was thick like fur, but almost invisible.

When Weinstein made his declaration that resulted in my nickname and reputation, I was a rather unremarkable junior high kid. I'd turned 12 over the summer and hadn't started my growth spurt yet. Yeah, yeah, my schlong was massive, but other than that I was a typical seventh grader. I doubt I was 85 pounds soaking wet and hadn't come close to five feet yet. There was one kid in our class who could probably have played lineman on the freshman high school team; he's the one you'd expect to be over-developed. His equipment looked like he'd been on steroids for years. The point I'm making is that my size came as a surprise to all who saw it.

It was kind of a backwards surprise to me, as well. Until I got into an environment where other kids my age were baring their all, I assumed there wasn't anything special about me. I was the size I was; no big deal.

I'd been playing with myself since late in the fourth grade. I discovered the drawer where my father hid his Playboys, and for some reason, it just seemed natural to put one hand all the way in my pocket for a bit, then pull down my shorts or unzip my pants and massage myself while looking at the pictures and the cartoons. Not that I understood many of the cartoons, but the drawing was good. Real good.

It was sometime in that summer when I had the latest centerfold spread out on Mom and Dad's bed. He was at work and I think she'd gone to the Food Basket with Mrs. Fish to do her weekly shopping. We were a one car family back then, and Mrs. Fish drove Mom to the store once a week.

Anyway, I had my play toy out and was fascinated with the picture. She had read hair, done up in a loose pony tail, you know, sort of tied with a rubber band or something but the hair kind of fluffed out behind her head. It wasn't a full on back shot, kind of a three quarter shot. Her butt was superb. Round and firm, making me fantasize about holding it in my hand. I had no concept of doing anything else other than feeling it in the meat of my hand. She was kind of turned around so you could see the pony tail from the side, kind of out from her head near the top. She had a smile on her face that told me she was happy I was looking at her.

Because of the way she was turned, there was only one tit in the picture. Hell, she could have had the left one amputated for all I know. But the right one was magnificent. You've heard it said that more than a handful is a waste? It would have been for her. It was conical, kind of a round pyramid, a curve from the bottom to the pointed center that would be impossible for the finest draftsman to duplicate. Her nipple stood out proudly, and I can see it today in my mind's eye. It was naturally protruding; it hadn't been stimulated to be larger than normal.

I saw that marvelous mammary and my initial thought was to take it in my mouth. This was a new and foreign concept, yet somehow I knew that was what we'd both want more than anything if she was able to step out from that page. Of course, my hand would be holding that glorious butt while I held her breast between my lips and teased that nipple with my tongue.

It was at that instant, when I formed that picture in my mind of her tit in my mouth and her ass in my hand, that I had my first orgasm. My hips started to thrust all by themselves and I thought I was ill. There was a kid who went to the Special Ed trailer at school who had some kind of palsy and walked around with these big metal crutches with cuffs that went around his arms, and he'd kind of jerk one leg and crutch forward, swing his body around and do the same with the others. Nobody said it to his face, but everyone called him Spaz. When I got that picture of Surrey's tit in my mouth and started to jerk, I swear to God, I thought I'd come down with whatever it was that Spaz had. And then when I saw the liquid come out of the end while it was shaking like it was trying to jump out of my hand, my first thought was that somehow I was puking my guts out from my prick.

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He was half-hard and I was craving to suck and fuck him, to be his whore. My naked body and my dirty mind felt ravenous and starving for cock, his cock. “Do you think my new whore is getting excited watching you suck my cock?” he asked his pretty blonde girl with a face full of his seed. “Don’t answer. Go clean up and use the whore’s dress on the floor. Then get me hard so I can fuck one of your holes again.” The blond girl gave me a subtle, sly smirk, barely noticeable, but definitely there,...

Moonlight

Security guard isn't the most glamourous job in the world, but it suits me fine. After all, who else gets paid for sitting around watching a monitor all night? It's a bit monotonous, but it gives me time to think. You can go into a kind of zen trance watching all the nothing going on. Lately I had been working this university gig – campus cops. It wasn't bad. I got to walk around a bit, and the worst I had to do was break up a frat brawl or escort a panicky girl back to her dorm. It was...

The Adventures of Calvin Michael JohnsonChapter 5

Sunday, July 4, 1976 Luna Base. Meanwhile, on the dark side of the moon in a hidden base, the Agents of Chaos are assembled. “I don’t want excuses. I want results,” called out the voice from the empty chair. The voice was eerily calm and quiet, measured even, no ranting or shouting. No one interrupted him. “Now, how is it that the young man is still alive? I was informed that the auto accident had been successful. And now, I have reports stating otherwise. Who is to blame for this?” “We...

Never Too Late

‘I’m sorting the wedding album, which pictures do you want?’ Like I would really want anything to remind me of my failed marriage with Sherry. I wanted to ask if she had any that showed her kissing my ass but decided against it, goddamned photographs anyway. That had been a lot of the problem between her and me, photographs, not to mention I hate to argue. Sherry had an internal Rolodex that contained reference to every event that had occurred since the time we met. She had a super database,...

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