Fucktoy Friday #4

I climaxed in the fucktoy’s ass. Her tight little ass quivered as my seed pumped into her. When I pulled my cock out, I wiped it on her ass.

“Please,” she moaned. She stayed on the floor with her legs spread apart. Her hands were bound together. Her knees and breasts would have rug burns for the rest of the week.

“Two minutes,” I saig.

The fucktoy rose on her knees. She whimpers as her ass protested the movement. She crawled awkwardly across the living room where the dildo was nailed to the floor. The fucktoy mounted the dildo with whorish ease.

The clock was ticking. The fucktoy humped the dildo furiously. Spanking her turned her on. Choking her turned her on. Fucking her ass turned her on. None of those got her off though. That was what the dildo was for.

The fucktoy bounced on her dildo. Her small tits bounced with urgency. The spank marks on her ass clenched as she rode the dildo. The sound of her greedy pussy filled the room with squelches and slurps.

The fucktoy had no shame. She didn’t slow down when I laugh at her need. She didn’t stop when I called her a horny slut.

“Time is up,” I said. It might have been. I never look at the clock.

The fucktoy whined but she dismounted. The dildo glistened.

“Clean your toy,” I said.

The fucktoy bent over and took the dildo in her mouth. She licked it clean while I I thought of what I wanted from her next.

Fiction: Mystery Girl

My name is Holly Valentine. I am a reporter for INX, the independent news website. I’m in my mid-thirties and I have never been married. I have cracked open dozens of major scandals although I will never win a Pulitzer because of the powerful people I have pissed off. The reason I am writing to you today in this issue of Journal of Psychological Disorders is to share my experiences about my own particular sexual fetish.

I am a diagnosed conspirasexual. That means I get aroused when I encounter a mystery that someone is actively trying to hide. To be more specific, I get aroused and stimulated as I try to uncover those secrets that others try to hide.

My earliest sexual memory is watching Scooby-Doo. Watching that dog and those kids solve mysteries used to excite me like nothing else. I was too young to understand what my body was feeling but I knew that I liked it. My heart would beat faster, my legs would tingle and I could barely sit still on the couch. When the Scooby gang would yank the mask off the monster to show the real villain, I would feel this weird bliss fill my body.

Unless you grew up during that sweet spot of the 70’s and 80’s, you wouldn’t understand how important mystery was to Saturday cartoons. The success of Scooby-Doo meant that cartoons of other crime solving kids and their pets, talking cars and friendly ghosts filled the major channels. Every Saturday was filled with more mysteries than I could possibly keep up. From show to show, I would watch with terrible excitement. It was like my young personality was being trained to solve crimes and expose dishonest park owners and monster fakers.

Childhood turned into puberty and puberty became a quest to uncover all the things parents don’t want you to know. I was a particularly deviant teenage girl not because of some irresistable desire for sex and alcohol, but because parents and society worked so hard to keep it away from me. I had to find out about handjobs, oral sex, vodka, kissing girls and ‘9 ½ Weeks’ because everyone was trying to so hard to keep it away from my prying eyes.

I finally settled down in High School when I joined the school paper. I loved our adviser teacher, Mr. Gort, but I was horrified by how little we were encouraged to actually investigate. We were told to write articles about football games and cover school politics. We were encouraged to become publicity people for our school. When you look at the state of modern journalism, it is not too surprising but as a young horny teenager eager to bust some mysteries, it was unacceptable.

I investigated an affair that was going on between the Girl’s Tennis coach and his two top players. Watching the three of them have sex was exciting, but it was the pictures I took that really got me wet and excited. I masturbated for the first time as my camera recorded their sinful deeds.

To this day, Polaroids of people having sex that they are trying to hide from others is an instant orgasm for me.

When I filed my report for the paper, Mr. Gort was very understanding. He forbade me from publishing it in the school paper but he helped me submit my findings to the town newspaper and as well as the police. He encouraged me to get the fuck out of school journalism and hit the real newspapers. I like to think he understood me; especially since he helped me break up three more sex scandals at the school.

I went to college and continued my work. I also continued my sexual enjoyment of exposing conspiracies. It was in college that I really came to understand myself. For example, a night in watching Law and Order is kind of stimulating, but only as much as watching silly softcore porn movies is for kinky people. I need to be involved.

If I am sweet-talking a guard into letting me snoop somewhere I don’t belong, that gets my panties soaking. If I am watching a hacker break into corporate secrets, that sends a tingle from my nipples to my clit. If I have documentation of a crime that is going to topple a politician, I might have to masturbate six or seven times that night just to calm down.

My boss at INX understands my compulsion and has suggested I get therapy for it. Some of my fellow reporters think it is unprofessional to get so horny that you fuck an informant after you have already bribed him and gotten your information. A few network executives have told me that they would gladly hire me for a plush prime time job if it wasn’t for the fact that I unconsciously moan while talking about secrets. It is safe to say that my conspirasexuality has impacted my career opportunities.

I am not shedding any tears. I am too busy stroking off to another scandal fueled orgasm. It is really difficult to want to change your life when there are so many secrets out there. It is really difficult to want to change your sexual identity when you are screaming an orgasm in a parking lot because you just captured footage of a bribe between crooks and religious figures. It is fucking difficult to want to change when you soak as many panties as I do on a daily basis.

So here is what I want to say to you doctors, therapists and scholars reading this journal article. Stop trying to cure Conspirasexuallia. Figure out a way to spread it instead.

Imagine how much better the world would be.

Farmer's Daughter's Almanac: Don't Scare the Horses

Love is a complicated thing. Sometimes we marry our middle school sweetheart and sometimes we don't marry at all because the men are kind of stupid. Sometimes it is more fun to fuck than to get married. The problem is that after fucking six different guys on Saturday, Reverend Busybody is preaching about you on Sunday. Or maybe Daddy gets mad and shoots one of your lovers. Or worse, Momma decides to become a MILF and steal all your boys. What's a Farmer's Daughter to do?

Well in the old days, women of a certain sexual healthiness would fuck in the barn. This causes all sorts of problems. For one, it scares the horses. Second, it is the first place fathers, mothers, peeping tom clergy and jealous wives look. Fucking in the barn is a lot like hiding money in your pussy, it's the first place everyone looks.

The Farmer's Daughter offers the following suggestions.

Cellar Hideaway: Dig a cellar and tell your family it's for tornadoes. This will allow you to stuck it with supplies like a comfortable bed, food, water and your favorite lubricant. Heck, if a tornado does come through, you got yourself set up for a very busy night.

Church: Think about it, unless it is a Sunday, that big old Church is empty most other days of the week. You haven't lived till you have been bent over a pew or eaten under the altar. You're going to be calling out to God anyway; might as well do it where he can hear you.

The Outhouse: Yeah, it is not sexy in there I know. But think about this, if you walked by an outhouse and it was shaking and you heard a bunch of moans, would you bother them?

Your Daddy's Bed: This is a good one. If your Daddy does come to the bedroom to find you fucking the entire Bible Quiz team in his bed, he won't say anything. He would be too ashamed of admitting that he was so lazy that he went to his bedroom before sundown.

Fucktoy Friday #3

The gas stop had three fucktoys to choose from. The selection was getting bigger every time I came through here. Hauling car parts down I-20 wasn’t looking so bad any more.

All three of them were naked and all three of them were cuffed to the metal pipers above them. A five dollar deposit got you the fucktoy of your choice. They were yours to play with until you left them at another certain gas stop where they go back into circulation. Being a trucker in these enlightened times was the shit.

The first fucktoy was a tiny little blonde girl. Her itty-bitty tits would be perfect for biting on the long drive. I bet I could cram the whole girl into my tool box and take out her out for blowjobs and cunt fucks.

The second fucktoy was a plump black girl. Damn, she had an ass on her. I could fuck that ass at every rest stop between here and Greenville.

The third fucktoy was a scared looking brunette with tattoos on her pale skin. We see her kind all the time. They thought it would be their dream to serve as fucktoys to truckers on the highway but once they get here, they realize we aren’t the pussy gentle lovers they are used to bossing around. Her tits had nice pretty bruises from her last user. She also stood with her legs apart, like she had been carrying something large and painful between her thighs for too long.

Shit, I am also a sucker for the scared ones. I slapped my ballgag on her and paid my five bucks. I dragged her by her hair and pulled her with me. She stumbled a bit so I picked her up and put her over my shoulder.

I walked out to my truck. My hand was on her ass but my mind was on the drive. I got deadlines to make and gas to ration. I got to plan my meals and figure out how long I can drive before I need to sleep. I’m not even thinking about my fucktoy because she is the least of my concerns. I’ll fuck her ass, I’ll fuck her mouth and I’ll fuck that sweet young cunt. That is what she’s there for.

She’s just another supply I use for the trip.

Fiction: Hand Wash

Aaron had two hours to kill before his Technical Sex Manual Writing class. The nice thing about Eros University was that there was plenty to do. Today he planned to spend his time at the Pornocade and see if he can beat his personal high score on Donkey Punch.

As he walked across campus, he saw that one of the sororities had set up some sort of charity drive. Young women in skimpy bikinis stood in front of curtained stalls. As he got closer, one of the girls yelled at him.

“Hey! Want a hand wash? Only 20 dollars! All the money goes to providing porn in rural areas without internet!”

“I don’t have a car,” Aaron said.

The blonde girl giggled. “We don’t wash cars! We will wash you!”

Aaron stopped walking. He looked the blonde girl over. She had to be on a nude model scholarship because she was unbelievable hot, even by Eros University standards. She had firm golden breasts barely supported by her green bikini. Her hips curved in ways that artists practice years to get right. Long curly blonde hair fell around a cute oval face that looked delighted to see him. The only imperfection was a wide nose that gave her beautiful face a touch of realism.

“Are you saying that you will wash me? You?” Aaron said. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t a bait and switch like they taught him in Dishonest Internet Advertising Class.

“Well, not exactly,” the girl said. “It will be me and my friend, Angie.”

The girl pointed at another bikini girl. This woman was shorter than the blonde but shit, her chest was twice as big. She had short brown hair that framed her face. The blue bikini she wore threatened to explode at any moment from the massive burden it was carrying.

Aaron reached into his wallet. “I did skip my shower this morning.”

“There you go!” the girl said. “My name is Jessi.” She went to one of the stalls and pulled aside the curtains. Come join us once you pay.”

Aaron quickly handed the money to a smirking Asian woman and went to the stall. Inside was a raised wooden platform with a drain. A shower head hung overhead and a small water tight cooler was open. A sign said “Constructed by the Home Dungeon Economics Class of 2009.”

Jessi had the cooler open. “Strip down and put your clothes here.”

Aaron took off his shirt and pants. He hesitated at his underwear.

“How else are we going to get you clean?” Angie said behind him. She yanked his underwear down to reveal his hard cock.

“All right!” Aaron said. His cock was pointing right at Jessi. She looked at it like it was the biggest she had ever seen. She was definitely here on a Nude Model scholarship.

“Are you two going to get naked?” Aaron asked.

Jessi shook her head. “We are not the ones who need to get clean.”

Before Aaron could answer, the showerhead came on and sprayed him with surprisingly warm water. It was the perfect temperature from the start. He wondered which science class came up with that.

The spray was so wide that Jessi and Angie were soaked as well. Jessi’s curls turned a dark gold as it was plastered to her smooth skin. Rivers of water flowed down her chest and into the canyon of her cleavage. The green bikini became transparent when wet and revealed the contours of her hard nipples and wide areoles. She tilted her head and opened her mouth so the spray of water would fill her mouth and spill out over her chin.

Fuck, maybe they don’t need to be naked after all.

“We prefer to use body wash,” Angie said behind him. He turned to face her. Her blue bikini seemed to shrink in the water to reveal even more of her mountainous breasts. “Would you prefer refreshing breeze as a scent or forest clean?”

“Ahh, refreshing breeze?” he said. His mind was failing to work in front of so much wet flesh.

“Okay, let’s get to work!” Jessi said.

The girls squeezed the blue body wash into their hands and lathered it up. Both of them also smeared the body wash onto their breasts. As they rubbed the soapy suds onto his body, they would return to the lather on their breasts for fresh suds.

The two girls soaped him up but they also worked their fingers into his arms and chest. They massaged his muscles as they soaped him up. He bit back his moans as they worked out kinks he didn’t even know he had in his arms.

“You should come by the Massage building and sign up for practice massages.” Angie said. “You have a lot of tension,”

“Especially between his legs,” Jessi said.

Angie laughed and slapped her friend. Suds and water went everywhere. Aaron throbbed and tried to keep from groaning.

“I’ll get his back,” Angie said. She stepped behind him but instead of her hands, Aaron felt her breasts press against him. He shuddered as he felt her soft wet pillows rub back and forth.

“I’ll get his legs,” Jeesi said. She knelt down in the stall before him. His cock unconsciously bounced in her direction. The cute blonde looked up at him and giggled.

“Campus Legal Department insists that I tell each one of our customers the following,” Angie said. “Although we can give you a head to toe wash, we are legally forbidden from offering sexual services without a state license.”

“Aww, that is too bad,” Aaron said. “You ladies would be worth any amount.”

Angie’s breasts pressed harder into his back. “Hey, that is sweet of you to say. Don’t you think, Jessi?”

“It sure is,” Jessi said.

The blonde looked up at Aaron and put a finger to her lips for him to be quiet. Before he could understand why, the blonde opened her mouth and took his cock into her mouth.

“Oh Jesus,” Aaron said.

“You like that?” Angie said as she massaged his ass. Her fingers were ever so close to his anus.

“Yes!” Aaron said. He did like it, but not as much as Jessi bouncing her head furiously on his cock.

“I have to say that you are pretty clean already,” Angie said. “So many of our customers are a bit on the skuzzy side. It is nice to see some guys follow basic hygiene.”

“Thanks,” Aaron said weakly. Jessi was fondling his balls as her mouth suck him. He was praying for climax before Angie was finished with his back.

Angie’s breasts were still against his back as she reached around and lathered his chest again. He noticed her hands were spending a lot of time with his nipples. She pinched them with her soapy fingers.

“Don’t say anything,” Angie whispered to him.

Aaron nodded. Her secret was safe with him.

He looked down to see Jessi looking up at him. Her leyes were half closed with oral bliss.

Aaron climaxed. It was the quietest he had ever come. His cock exploded inside the blonde’s mouth while the busty brunette continued to pull his nipples.

Jessi stood up and Angie quickly released his nipples.

“All done down there!” Jessi said.

“All done back here!” Angie said.

Angie and Jessi rinsed his body of any remaining suds, lather or come. The water was turned off and before Aaron had a chance to shiver, his body was engulfed in big fluffy towels. The two women rubbed the wonderful towels over every part of his body though both of them seemed to think that his now limp cock needed a thorough drying. Aaron didn’t complain.

As he got dressed, Aaron was filled with afterglow generosity. “Would it be okay if I donated more money to your charity?”

“That’s sweet of you!” Jessi said. “You must really care about people getting their porn in these time economic times!”

“I have a big heart,” Aaron said.

“Just hand your money to our cashier and let them know you had us as washers,” Angie said.

“Will do!” Aaron said. He headed off to empty his wallet.

As he walked away, Angie let out a sigh. “Too bad it was your turn to suck them, because he was cute.”

Jessi nodded. “At this rate, we won’t have any problems being the top charity earners.”

“We’ll claim that grand prize and get that porn star convention trip for our Spring Break!” Angie said.

“I love charity work!” Jessi said.

Six Random Ways That My Wife Has Made Me a Better Person

1> I appreciate onions in my food now.

2> She taught me to fucking drive.

3> Through hard work and pestering, she got me to regularly balance my bank account.

4> She inspired my Island princess stories.

5> Helped me like my mother again.

6> Gives me a reason to laugh every single day.

Fucktoy Friday #2

It was my turn. I went to the second floor of the fraternity and entered the fucktoy room. Eighteen of my brothers had gone before me but I didn’t care about the wait. It was my turn to fuck.

She had her hands bound to the bed frame. Her legs were free so we could fuck her in any position we wanted. She was naked except for her blindfold. Well, that and the names.

We have a tradition with our fucktoys. They can’t see us, but we sign our work. In purple marker we write our names on their bodies when we are done. I have heard that some fucktoys carry those names for weeks.

I take off my pants and get into bed. The slut moans as she hears me. Eighteen cocks had used her today and still she wanted more. Her thighs parted and she lifted her cunt to me.

The fucktoy was older than me. She was in her thirties, maybe even her forties. I have no idea where the fraternity finds her kind. I just know that they are here to be used.

I grab her ankles and lift them to my shoulders. My cock slips into her wet cunt and the slut whimpers. She must be tender. Tough shit.

I fuck her. I pound her like the horny college kid that I am. I grab her tits and play with them harder than any date would let me. I call her every dirty name I can think of. My cock takes her cunt and the fucktoy loves every minute of it.

My brothers’ names bounce on her body. Steve’s name jiggles on her right breast. Matt’s name wiggles on her stomach. Paul’s name is stretched out on her left thigh. I look for a place to put mine.

The fucktoy climaxes. I don’t care.

The fucktoy comes again.

I finally get off. I shoot load into the slut’s cunt and it feels amazing. The stress of school and dating disappear into the fucktoy’s cunt.

It was my turn. I sign my name across the top of her shaved cunt.

Fiction: On Track to Death

Donnie “Fat Fuck” Scialanio looked around. This truly was a lonely place to die. The woods were pitch black and the tiny bit of moonlight that made it through the trees cast everything in a grim sepia of twilight. The train tracks stretched to the horizion of darkness like some sort of infinity plane. It was times like these that Donnie was glad that he took those art classes in school so he could have the words to describe the setting when he bragged about this murder later.

“Wow,” the woman said. “The Dairy Farmers Association does not fuck around. Who knew that investigating those milk ads would result in getting tied to a train track?”

Donnie shrugged. He was a blue collar kind of assassin. He just killed the people that other people paid to kill. It kept thing simple.

Still, it was a shame about this woman. Holly Valentine was a reporter and she was hot enough to be on Fox News. She had long red hair that captured every stray moonbeam and turned it into spectral fire. Long pale legs peeked out of a blue skirt. Plentiful breasts threatened to escape from her dress’s cleavage even if they had no hope of escaping the rope bound across her chest. Her hands were tied behind her, giving her a vulnerability that made even a hardened killer like Donnie want to rescue her. The gal was something special. Too bad she was about to become a wet smear on the train tracks.

“When is the train supposed to be here?” Holly asked.

Donnie was impressed by the tone of her voice. She was all calm and shit.

“In about five minutes,” Donnie said.

“Not nearly enough time,” Holly said, half to herself.

“Not nearly enough time for what?” Donnie asked.

Holly shook her read hair out of her face. Bound to the train track, she still made it look sexy. “Not enough time for one last fuck.”

Donnie laughed. Holy kept talking.

“No, seriously,” Holly said. “I’m a reporter for a news blog on the internet. I have to do real news. That keeps me too busy for a love life, you know? Do you have any idea how long it has been since a man touched me?”

Donnie looked down on her. “Are you trying to tell me that a hot chick like you can’t get any?”

“Trust me, most of the people I meet are trying to hide secrets from me, or trying to kill me,” Holly said. “It has been way too long since I had something in me that wasn’t powered by a battery.”

Donnie felt a stirring in his pants. “I can’t let you go,” he said. “I’m a professional.”

“Shit, I know that,” Holly said. “I’m just asking you to take advantage of me, okay? I’m tied up and helpless, don’t you want to grab a tit or something?”

“No way,” Donnie said. “I never molest my victims. I ain’t one of those creeps you see on those sexual assault crime shows.”

“I know you’re not,” Holly said kindly. “But I am asking you. Could you please just squeeze my breast? Just a little?”

Donnie “Fat Fuck” came by his nickname honestly. He was a fat fuck. The number of gals who asked him to squeeze their breasts could be counted on one hand and still have enough fingers to bury a body. He wasn’t a pervert, but he wasn’t made of stone either.

Donnie stepped onto the train tracks and bent down. The rope crossed over and under her breasts, almost as if he had subconsciously wanted them available for later. The thin material of the dress was straining against Holly’s breasts. He reached down and cupped a tit. He gave it a little squeeze.

Fuck, that was nice.

“Get under the dress, silly,” Holly said. “I can’t do anything. Go for it!”

Swallowing hard, Donnie did as she requested. His fingers slipped into her cleavage and touched her soft flesh. He felt her nipple and he was surprised by how hard it was. Maybe the girl was hard up.

“Squeeze me,” Holly said. “Squeeze me like you want me.”

Donnie did want her. He squeezed. Fingers that crushed windpipes tightened around her breast. He expected her to cry out in pain but instead she moaned with pleasure.

“Oh that is nice,” Holly said. “Check my pussy, you’ll see how much I like it.”

Donnie kept squeezing her breast. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I’m about to get run over by a train,” Holly said. “Man up and finger my pussy. We both want it.”

Donnie squeezed her breast harder. “Yeah, damn it. I’m a hardened killer. Your pussy is mine.”

“There you go!” Holly said.

He let go of her breast and flipped her skirt up. The reporter was wearing a white thong that glowed in the moonlight. He pushed the thong aside to reveal a patch of fiery hair. Her legs were bound together at the knees but she managed to part her thighs a few inches. His middle finger slipped into her pussy with liquid ease. Not only was she wet as she claimed, but she was fucking tight as well.

“Oh fuck yes,” Holly said. “Keep doing that, keep doing that.”

Donnie stroked her. He used short rapid thrusts like a good alley mugging. She was so wet and so tight, every thrust made her squirm and moan. The reporter was a writhing victim to his fingers.

“Do whatever you want,” Holly moaned. “Use me as you wish, just keep stroking!”

He took his other hand and ripped her dress open. Both breasts glowed in the moonlight. He groped one and then the other; kneading them to his heart’s delight while Holly kept moaning.

“give me you fingers,” Holly said. He didn’t understand her till she opened her mouth and flicked her tongue at him.

He let go of her breasts and stuck a finger in her mouth. Her lips snapped shut around his finger and sucked. Oh God, did she suck! He pushed in another finger and she took it. He pushed a third finger in her mouth and she sucked it as well. He fingerfucked her mouth as he fingerfucked her pussy and the squirming reporter clenched tight around both fingers.

She tried to say something but his fingers were gagging her. He pulled them out and the moaning reporter said one thing.

“Fuck me.”

“Right,” Donnie said. He stood up and unzipped his pants. His cock was hard and ready for her. He pulled off his pants and his underwear in a single motion. Holly’s bound body waited for him. The only question was how was he going to fuck her with her legs tied together?

“Turn me over,” Holly said as if she was reading his mind. “Turn me over and take me from behind.

This was the most cooperative murder victim ever. Donnie gently rolled her over and flipped up her skirt. Her ass was even more abundant than her chest. Round buttocks clenched together as if waiting for a smack of his hand.

Mad with power, Donnie did just that. His hand landed on her ass with a resounding ‘WHAM!’. Her ass clenched from the force of his spank.

“Fuck yes!” Holly said. “Get my ass, ready!”

Donnie was about to spank her again when he heard something terrible. It was the whistle of the train. He couldn’t see it so it might be a few miles off, but it was close.

“Shit!” Donnie said.

“Shit!” Holly said.

Donnie looked down at the reporter. Her bare ass waited for him. She was still squirming. He hadn’t even put his cock in her yet. It was fucking unfair!

“Isn’t there another train coming later?” Holly asked. “I mean, does it have to be this train that runs me over?”

“No, it doesn’t!” Donnie said. There was another train about an hour from now. No one said she had to be dead at a certain time.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her off the track. He set her down in the grass a few feet away from the tracks. Maybe he should bring her to the woods but fuck that. He had to have her now.

Holly must have been in the same state. Still tied up and on her stomach, the reporter managed to get on her knees get her ass in the air. The moonlight spotlighted her ass as she shook it back and forth.

Donne kneeled down behind her. His cock pushed up into the pussy that needed him. Wet heat engulfed his cock as he slipped all of himself into her.

“Fucking yeah!” Holly yelled. She had her head down and her red hair spilled over her like a blanket.

Donnie heard the train coming. He didn’t care. He fucked Holly’s pussy. He grabbed that wonderful ass and pounded the shit out of the reporter. Years of frustration channeled through his humping hips. That cute girl at the pizza place who wouldn’t go out with him? Donnie fucked Holly’s bound body for her. Those other mob guys who call him ‘Fat Fuck’? Donnie’ slapped Holly’s ass for them. That lousy ending to the Sopranos? Donnie fucked Holly’s pussy in revenge for incoherent finales.

The train thundered by. Car after car of crushing power stormed by Donnie as he fucked Holly. He felt like there was a metaphor about trains and his cock but he was too horny to think of one. The man was too busy tearing up reporter ass.

Holly might have come but the train was too loud for Donnie to hear her. He felt her pussy clench and her whole body shook in orgasmic spasms. Just the thought of her climaxing was enough for him. He came inside her yelled his triumph to the rushing train.

Donnie fell of her body. Holly kept squirming. Donnie watched in afterglow bliss as the reporter twisted in the moonlight.

When the train finally left, Donnie had to get back to business. He stood up on shaky legs and picked her up. She purred as he carried her back to the tracks.

“That was great,” she said. “Thanks for giving me that.”

“Hell, I should have done this a long time ago with other chicks,” Donnie said.

“Hey, you never know!” Holly said. “Women facing certain death sometimes are open to the craziest things!”

Donnie set her down on the tracks. He picked up his pants and put them back on. He nearly fell over twice. Fucking her had taken a lot out of him.

“Guy, you look like you need a nap,” Holly said. “Why don’t you go home already?”

Donnie yawned. “I am beat, but I should really stay. It ain’t professional to walk away before you are sure your job is done.”

“Hey, if you go now, I won’t tell anyone,” Holly said. “My well fucked ass will be dead!”

They laughed at her joke. “Alright, I will,” Donnie said. “You’re a great gal. Hope you get to heaven!”

“Thanks!” Holly said.

She watched as Donnie walked into the woods. She slowly counted to a hundred when she couldn’t see him anymore. When she was done counting, she went back to work on the ropes. Her squirming and twisting earlier had loosened them a lot, but the guy’s fucking and thrusts had helped her get most of the ropes loose.

A minute later she was free. She stood up and stretched. Her dress was torn but at least she was alive. Now all she had to do was get back to town and file her report.

Holly paused on the track. It was a shame that she didn’t get the guy’s name. He seemed kind of sweet.

Farmer's Daughter's Almanac: Garden Seeds

Growing your own sex toys in your garden is not only economical and good for the environment, but it can be fun too! Back in the old days, my grandmother and her friends had to grow cucumbers of a certain shape with careful planting, horticultural techniques and the occasional midnight prayer to Satan. Today's horny farm woman can select from a wide range of seed packets from several discreet catalogs. The following are some of my favorites.

Green Goliath Corn Cobs- These seeds are the woman who may have had sex with a horse or a man hung as one. The resulting corn cob is large enough to satisfy any woman of any size. The only drawback is that some of the cobs may be dangerously large for insertion. So remember ladies, use plenty of butter the first time.

Aunt Bee's Zucchini- For the woman who likes a little variety in her vegetable sex life, Aunt Bee's seeds are perfect. Each seed grows a zucchini between five to eleven inches long, but each zucchini is guaranteed to be different from one another. Some will lean to the left, others will lean to the right while some will even have textured bumps. A new zucchini every night is like having a new husband every night, just without the mother-in-laws.

Von Madd's Cockumber- This bio-engineered vegetable has only been on the market for a year but it is already a big hit in certain rural communities. The cockumber is very firm and remarkably sturdy no matter how wild your night gets. The skin was designed to have a flavor that is 98% indistinguishable from a man's penis. The only drawback is much like a real man's cock, they require extra care. They will need twice as much watering and fertilizer as regular cucumbers.

Mississippi Carrots- For those shy women or perhaps newlyweds, this special line of carrots will grow thin and slender. They have quite a reach though and some of the more wanton farmers like to use these to hit their Gee-Spot. The Farmer's Daughter can not confirm or deny the existence of the Gee-Spot but that is because I usually black out from the force of the orgasm when I hit it.

Farmer's Daughter's Tip! Tell your husband, boyfriend or handsome farm hand that the special ladies vegetables require a man to shoot his load on the seeds. They don't, but you can have a lot of fun doing it!

Fucktoy Friday

Her tongue licks my cock. As instructed, her lipstick stained lips are open. If a single red mark appears on my cock, the fucktoy gets punished.

It isn’t easy for her. She is squatting precariously on high heels. Her hands are cuffed behind her. My hand is on one of her dark breasts and I maul her tender flesh to my heart’s content.

She licks. Sometimes I am kind and I hold my cock for her. She licks furiously when I do this, moaning as she enjoys the taste.

When I am not kind, the fucktoy has to reach for my cock herself. She has to chase my throbbing cock with her tongue. When my cock comes dangerously close to her slut’s lipstick, she recoils in terror.

It isn’t long before she moans. She is whining to be touched. She isn’t allowed to talk but her moans, whimpers and shudders beg for her. She wants my cock inside her cunt. She wants my fingers inside her cunt. She would even be satisfied if I let her hands free so she could stroke herself. The fucktoy wants to come.

Fuck her. It’s Friday. She’s my fucktoy today.

My climax is close. I grab my cock and stroke. The fucktoy is excited. She opened her mouth and sticks out her tongue. Denied her own pleasure, she wants to taste mine.

I come. Most of it lands in her mouth. Quite a bit lands on her pretty face. A wicked strand lands on her whore’s lipstick. Not enough lands on her ebony breasts.

Fiction: Lost Saxons

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