Livin' In the Country
Chapter 10
Considering my state of exhaustion and all the goings-on that had
happened during the day, it was a surprise to discover on more than one occasion
during the night and perhaps the early hours of the morning, that I had been
dreaming. They were some kind of doozies; they were indeed. The cast of
characters changed somewhat from dream to dream, and the scenes were
sufficiently different that the script writer in my subconscious has no fear of
being accused of plagiarism or repeating himself, which seems to be a common
practice in most, if not all the media these days. Led by my dear wife, who wore
a dog mask and was clad in a flowing white gown with a pair of cut-outs that
exposed her breasts, all manner of folks pranced, stumbled, raced, hopped,
skipped, (none of them jumped however) and wandered across my eyeballs which
must have been trying to jump right out of their sockets. This had to have been
the rapid eye movement equivalent of the Olympic finals.
I hate to have dreams that require some thought to figure out.
Fortunately most of these did not fall into that category. However one or two
were rather troubling as they involved myself intimately involved with
youngsters that were definitely not legal in this county, let alone this country
of ours. On the good side all of them were of the female persuasion, and for
some inexplicable reason possessed gigantic breasts, which was also good, and
pussies that had teeth surrounding their entrances, which was not good at all.
The one that did me in, in a manner of speaking, involved Ms. Marlowe and my 12
year old budding lesbian daughter, Glenda. Rhonda did the naming, and I was well
aware that during the time she got knocked up she was fooling around with some
guy named Glen who was just passing through. Livin' in the country has its bumps
in the road,if you know what I mean.
In my dream Ms. Marlowe was sporting a pair of headlights that were most
impressive and had an ass to die for, contrary to reality. Glenda was strung up
by her thumbs in what looked like a prison cell because of the bars. She was
stark naked and soaked to the skin. Ms.Marlowe dressed in a police uniform was
rolling up this huge fire hose that I guess she'd just got through using on my
daughter. She walked over to where Glenda was hanging and began sticking her
fingers up the girl's cunt. For some crazy reason I was in the room just
watching. Ms. Marlowe acted like I wasn't even there. Then she pulled out her
baton, a wooden stick about two feet long and started fucking it in and out of
Glenda's pussy. I started jacking off, matching my strokes to what Ms. Marlowe
was giving poor Glenda.
At that point I awoke to discover myself in the process of coating my
belly with an impressive load of semen, something alien to my being ever since I
was an acne-afflicted teenager unable to get any pussy no matter what. I was
breathing hard and my heart was pounding like a trip hammer. It took a few
moments for everything to calm down. There I lay in the darkness, befuddled and
a bit upset over the nasty scene I had just participated in. "What the hell was
that all about?" I said to no one in particular. Frankly speaking, the only
thing worse than having a wet dream is to wake up after you peed in your bed. I
thanked whatever deity controlled such things, that my aberrant behavior had not
involved urine. I quickly leaped from bed and padded down the hall in the
direction of the bathroom.
When I got to Jack's room I heard the unmistakeable sound of flesh
meeting flesh at a rapid rate. Acting as a kind of counterpoint to it was the
rhythmic squeak of the bedsprings, punctuated by an occasional gasp and groan
from the warring parties. "Now you're hitting it! Oh yes, pound me, pound me!"
This encouragement was coming from a familiar voice, namely my daughter, Tammi.
I sighed to myself, more in sadness for my lost youth than any annoyance over
what they were doing. This was what life in the country was all about, fucking
the brains out of your sibling because that was what she wanted you to do. I
wondered how long they had been at war, and hoped that the sounds of battle had
not disturbed Rhonda's sleep. A high pitched wail issued from the room as Jack
redoubled his efforts; the battle was coming to a climax. One last command to "
Pour it on, I'm almost there!" announced the impending rout of the enemy. I
continued my trip toward the bathroom wondering if I might have some company
shortly. Upon sober reflection the idea that those two rabbits would slack off
for more time than it took to change positions was rather laughable.
While I got rid of the evidence associated with my little accidental
discharge, my mind began to wander, considering such matters as DNA and the
relationship of the various members of my family to each other. The only thing I
was really sure of was that Rhonda and I were related to each other through
marriage. Since I'd never been to the delivery room when Rhonda gave birth, in
fact except for once I was never even in the hospital during the blessed events,
I could not even be sure that those six babies she brought home were all hers.
Now that might be a bit far fetched but there have been mix ups at the hospital
before.
I began to have a vision that Jack was not my son, but was Rhonda's.
This expanded to now include the fact that Tammi was accidently handed to Rhonda
by an overworked nurse who had bad eyesight. This in turn would make the
establishment rest a lot easier, since now these two were not committing incest.
In fact that would mean that the two rabbits could legally be united in holy
wedlock. Now there's an interesting word, "wedlock". It has the trappings of
imprisonment or confinement, neither state very appealing to most men. I began
to wonder if the threat of that kind of a legal union might take all the fun out
of what they were doing. I would have to pose this question to my two
demi-children one of these days when they weren't in heat.
As previously mentioned, I was not at all sure that I had anything to
do with Glenda. That led to another very interesting vision. If Glenda wasn't
mine then I could nail her with a clear conscience soon as she turned legal next
year. Wouldn't that beat all hell. I could be doing her mom at night and her
during the day and it would all be on the up and up. The prospect of doing a
mother-daughter combination reminded me of my meeting with May and Mabel, the
time and place to be announced. There was sure a lot of irons heating up around
here.
Before I went back to my bed I decided that sooner rather than later I'd
find out from the local medical folks what kind of money would it take to check
out the DNA of my three oldest and myself. If it was feasible I would have
something to look forward to that might change the direction of my life. The
rabbits had started up again by the time I passed their room.
The next day, after work, I broke the news to Rhonda that we were going
to have a visit from the Tolliver twins. Her reaction was less than
enthusiastic.
"Just what I need when I'm feeling so poorly, two more mouths to feed.
That damned son of ours will be walking on three legs the entire time and I know
that Tammi and Glenda are going to be feeling out of sorts from having those two
cock teasers around getting all the attention from every man within two miles of
here, and that includes the sneaky son of a bitch I'm married to."
My explanation that this was a trade with Ms. Marlowe for allowing her
to have Marty and Marie did not wash well with her.
"If I ever see either one of those wimpy excuses for a functioning human
being, it will be too soon. Those two are mainly responsible for the troubles I
encountered. I hear tell that Marie never made the clambake and that Marty got
himself half-ruined by the kitchen ladies for misbehaving with that little tramp
he claims is his wife. The damned phone started ringing just about the time you
left for work, and I had to answer it in self defense because a certain husband
of mine was too dumb to take the thing off the hook before he left for work."
Despite her diatribe I was "honor bound" to go through with the
arrangement Ms. Marlowe and I had made. There was nothing that my out-of-sorts
wife could do to get in the way of progress. Those two beings from another world
were going to get to know me, in the biblical sense, close up and very, very
personal starting next Friday night. Having made that decision before hand there
was no room for compromise. To her credit Rhonda quickly realized that my feet
were embedded in concrete on this one, and set about turning this situation to
her favor.
Normally before the day is done I always reserve some quality time for
my dear wife; it improves her outlook considerably and does quite a bit for me
as well. Today at work a recently hired young thing with a very healthy set of
lungs and a gung ho attitude had enticed me into an orientation session that had
been mightily productive for both of us. It had served to take the edge off
things, so to speak, but that was many hours ago. The prospect of encountering
the Tolliver twins had once more put me into an amorous mood, and I went about
investigating the possibility that Rhonda might be willing to allow me to
exercise my conjugal rights. To my surprise and delight she was most receptive
to this modest proposal and promised to rendezvous with me shortly. Now there's
one fine French word for you to remember.
When Rhonda and I interact in the bedroom, it is usually a no frills
affair, sort of like flying on one of those low cost airlines that thinks giving
you peanuts is haute cuisine, that's French for good eating. Tonight was
somewhat different, since I sincerely believe that both of us had taken stock
and realized we had a very good thing going despite those occasional missteps
that all couples take now and then. I was planning a few surprises for my bed
partner that involved exploring some relatively underdeveloped areas of my
domain, actually they were in her domain, but I like to think globally at times.
The door to the bedroom opened and in pranced Rhonda wearing a flimsy
see-through white teddy. She had gained some weight since she bought this one,
so she had pulled it up to just below her sagging tits and let it be. Instantly
I was transported back to last night and my dream of her; this was very spooky.
Then my eyes moved down to just below the hem of the garment and I got another
surprise, this one much more pleasant. Rhonda had taken a razor to her muff; for
the first time in many years she was shaven. It looked good enough to eat and
without getting too far ahead of myself I must admit to the fact that I
overindulged and was a better man for it.
My dear wife took advantage of my momentary paralysis and immediately
was upon me, her weight sinking me into the mattress. Let me tell you, there is
nothing to match the sensation of literally drowning in pussy. Her aroma was
overwhelming and after one breath I had exhausted the available air supply. My
nose was neatly buried in her coin slot of a pussy, whether by design or luck I
will never know. I commenced to thrashing around, attempting to free myself from
the glorious death grip she had me in. I could hear her giggling like a school
girl as she rode me as if I were a bucking bronc. This old mustang nearly ran
out of tricks until I realized just how vulnerable she was. Once again guile and
wile triumphed when brute strength failed, an observation that has stood me in
good stead for many years. I used my last bit of energy to fasten my teeth into
her rubbery pubic mound, causing her to let out a whoop of surprise and bounce
herself free of this painful sensation, allowing me to regain my breath.I then
proceeded to subdue this large woman and bend her to my will.
One great advantage of doing the same woman over a long period of time
is the fact that you develop optimized positions for most of your intimate
activities. It can also be argued that familiarity creates boredom, which is the
bane of most marriages. This is why the open version of marriage provides the
best of all possible worlds, provided of course that both partners are
completely serious about this style of living. Rhonda and I settled quickly into
the sixty-nine configuration with yours truly in the inferior position as
befitted his ranking in the sexual hierarchy. It also made a lot of logistical
sense due to Rhonda's propensity to significantly increase her girth during her
many and sundry pregnancies. I began to probe her well manicured pubic region
and detected a trace of lemon, a sign that this was to be a very serious and
most meaningful coupling. This was a very private thing between us and had its
antecedent back to the days we were first courting. About this time I felt my
dick being engulfed by a warm, wet force that soon drew immense quantities of
blood into my member.
I will avoid boring people with all the gory details involving the many
friendly scrimmages, that's a football term, which occurred during that magical
mystery tour that took place during the evening. Suffice to say that there were
frequent exchanges of bodily fluids and the like. With Rhonda's permission I
introduced my tongue into places that it normally did not go, and discovered
that she was favorably impressed by my efforts to provide a little more spice in
our life. In fact her armpits and puckered butt hole are now regular stops when
we have the time to take the scenic route.
It turns out that the state of her underarms usually reflects her
overall mood for a time period that may go for months, and on one occasion
stretched into two complete calendar changes. When she's feeling free and fiesty
and is receiving swains who are of high quality with good substance, this
translates to men who are well hung and know what to do with their equipment,
she lets her armpits become lush forests of fragrant fir trees. At times when
she is a tad insecure about the future she will prune this growth as a symbol of
her potential for renewal and change. I presume I do not have to tell you what
my tongue encountered during this particular get-together.
All good things must come to an end, but Rhonda took advantage of my
weakness for her butt hole. Once I finished slobbering and slithering my tongue
over and into that tough muscle, she offered it up as a special treat for the
evening. I was much taken aback and quite touched by her generosity considering
what that passageway had recently endured from those two dog knots. I attempted
to decline but she was adamant that I accept this token of her love and
affection for me. I did what any other gentleman would have done in this
position, I reamed her raw, my belly slapping her big round cheeks while she
buried her face into a pillow and pounded her fists into the bedding as I tried
to match those furry fuckers in the speed department. What I lacked in speed, I
was able to make up in endurance, this being the last coupling of a very long
evening of swapping sweat, pussy juice, semen and saliva. Rhonda claimed that it
was the worst spanking she's had in years, which I took to be a great
compliment.
Then she sprang the trap, reminding me of a time many years ago when in
the throes of passion I had begun to provide her with a tongue bath, promising
not to miss a spot even if it took me a day or more. Once the liquor that fueled
that nonsensical boast took full effect, I fell into a deep sleep, thus ending
our little activity for the evening. Now as I was coming down from a delightful
romp between her awesome butt cheeks, she dragged that old cat out of its grave
and set it on my plate. This was not my idea of good pussy; not by a long shot.
The negotiations that followed were kind of one-sided. Her attorney
appeared to be Johnnie Cochran while I was represented by Marcia Clark. The jury
brought in a verdict favoring Rhonda's claim faster than the group of friendly
folks that got OJ free and out on the golf course again. I was sentenced to
perform community service on the plaintiff's unwashed body beginning on the
following evening and continuing until every spot available, excluding the
region on her head covered by her hair, had been well and truly coated with a
uniform covering of saliva. There was to be no appeal allowed in this matter.
While my dear wife slept the sleep of the victorious, I fretted and
stewed over this obstacle that had been placed in my path to the pussies of the
aforementioned Tolliver twins. I had exactly three evenings to cover a vast
amount of territory that might not even be friendly to my cause. I made some
rough calculations concerning the number of square inches I might be covering,
and concluded it might make me feel better if I converted that rather large
number to square feet. It was still a bunch. I made some additional assumptions
as to the amount of territory I could cover with each pass of my tongue, the
number of passes I could reasonably expect to make in an hour, and concluded
that it was feasible if she provided a modicum of cooperation. This was perhaps
my shakiest assumption. Realizing I had a long day ahead of me at the feed
store, having scheduled another orientation session with my new found fellow
employee, I decided to turn off my brain and sleep the sleep of those boasters
recently bitten in the ass by their betters.
I would like to have said that my week went down hill from there, but
that would be a gross understatement of my situation. It was more like that
Wilie Coyote cartoon character for me. When the bottom of down hill was reached,
the road abruptly turned into the edge of a sheer cliff; you know the rest. My
descent was such that I developed an enormous velocity which made my landing
something that only an Evel Keinevel fan would have appreciated. The first thing
to go wrong was the little tryst with my new friend at the feed store. She
proved to be a most demanding creature and I expended considerably more energy
than I had budgeted for this item on my list of things to do. Upon returning to
the bosom of my family, I faced a meal that appeared to be deliberately designed
to cause me to fall fast asleep immediately after consuming it. This in turn was
followed by the observation on the part of my understanding wife that she was
developing a terrible headache. When I inquired if there was something I could
do to alleviate this malady she gave me one of those smiles that told me I was
about to get run over by that damned road runner.
I found myself sharing the marital bed with my rather demanding wife who
insisted on a lengthy back rub to reduce her tension. When this did not
completely satisfy her wants, she suggested that a vigorous prodding of her
private parts by yours truly might be just what the doctor ordered to restore
her to her natural state. She cautioned me that vigorous did not mean quick as
she settled back and parted her thighs, her shaved pussy appearing to be ready
to swallow me whole. I did what had to be done, feeling the effects of that
heavy meal and my unexpected expenditure of energy while at work. For some
reason she took pity on me after a time and allowed me to begin my community
service, or was it servicing?
For a time I thought I was making good progress. I licked and licked and
licked some more, moving from the soles of her feet, over her toes, past her
ankles and began making the slow climb toward her knees, one limb at a time. It
was at this point that she observed that I had missed that area between those
unwashed digits.
In case any of the readers don't know what the words "toe jam" mean, let
me explain. This is much akin to belly button "lint". It's a collection of
miscellaneous and unknown material that lodges in the various nooks and crannies
of the human body. Toe jam is sort of like mystery meat, only it doesn't taste
as good, and of course it lodges between the toes, hence the name. It is my
understanding that there are members of my tribe who achieve sexual stimulation
from feeding on the toes of ladies; I do not share their enthusiasm for this
activity.
After making a detour to take care of unfinished business, I resumed my
efforts to reach her knees. Rhonda offered no resistance and I was encouraged to
the point of considering perhaps a move to that smooth shaved pussy before I
called it a night. Unfortunately my dear wife had other ideas. Upon reaching the
backs of her knees, one of those erogenous zones the experts talk about, I was
urged to pay a little lip service to that region. I knew better than to argue,
realizing that she held all the cards at this moment. Rather than risk having
the lights go out for the evening, I devoted a considerable amount of time and
energy to pleasuring that area of her body.
I evidently overdid things because Rhonda suddenly gave a shudder that
signaled something of significance was occurring within her body. The next thing
I knew she was ordering, not suggesting, not asking,....ordering me to mount up
and do her like I meant it. If there is anything that will get my blood to
boiling it's the implication that I would do less than my all when it came to
matters involving the exchange of bodily fluids. As the old saying goes, the
rest was history. The mountain climbing was over for the evening. I now was down
to just two more attempts to reach the top.
The next morning before the alarm clock went off, my horny partner in
life awoke me with a killer blowjob that turned into a rather energetic
encounter of the closest kind. I made a healthy donation of sperm that was
cheerfully accepted by my darling wife. It did not sink in until later in the
day that this burst of affection for me was part of a plot to somehow or other
make my rendezvous with the Tolliver twins a less than perfect union. It was
while I was engaged in fending off my new protogee (more French), who insisted
we had time for another quick lesson in employee relationships, that I realized
there were forces at work dedicated to frustrating my long awaited tete-a-tete
(even more French) with the twin paragons of youthful sexuality.
Dinner was a tad late because Rhonda had decided to cook one of my
favorite meals, hog jowls and greens. So by the time we adjorned to the marital
bed for a continuation of our fun and games, I was already an hour behind
schedule, an hour I did not have. Rather than waste time arguing where I had
left off last evening, I began lapping away at her pebbled skin, determined to
reach just below her hanging nipples and establish a base camp from which I
would push off tomorrow evening. That was not to be for a variety of reasons.
I was making good progress up her right thigh when she claimed I had
missed a spot and demanded I take care of the oversight. This threw me off my
game a bit and made it even easier for her next move, which was to roll over
onto her belly and insist that I cover her broad bottom before approaching her
hole of holies, which on occasion is my pet name for her pussy. To make matters
even worse she kept complaining that I was doing a less than adequate job on her
aft hole of holies, which was a way of using her smart mouth to be hurtful to
her loyal, loving husband.
I knew in my heart of hearts that there was no way I would be able to
accomplish tonight's objective unless she developed a severe case of horniness
coupled with an attack of insomnia. At this stage things were beginning to look
hopeless, but I decided to make the most of it. I could think of lots worse
things than to be licking Rhonda's ass and making her squirm as my tongue began
to get to her. When I pried her cheeks apart and started in on that chocolate
starfish she let out a yelp so loud that I'm sure all the kids heard it. I
wondered if Jack and Tammi even stopped for a second from what I knew they were
doing, then laughed to myself because they were young and in lust, just like
Rhonda and I were about 15 years ago.
My tongue began to breach her defenses and she ran up the white flag by
holding those saliva coated mounds apart and pushing that puckered butthole back
against my tongue. Moments later I was offered a chance to put something more
substantial in that winking brown eye. Now that was an offer I certainly was
not going to refuse. She arched her back and let out a howl when I sank my dick
down into her bowels and started drilling for oil. As I wormed deeper and deeper
inside her, I wondered if I could call in sick tomorrow. I knew that if I had
all day, my troubles would be over for sure and those twins would be mine for an
entire weekend. Rhonda was way ahead of me despite being in the throes of
passion.
"Forget about staying home you miserable loafer. I want you out of the
house and earning a living so we can have food on the table and a roof over our
heads. Just you remember you have six kids and a wife to take care of." Her
words signaled the end of my dream for a time. I began to accept my fate and
consoled myself with the fact that I'd still have part of the weekend to get to
enjoy the company of my charges. The next day even that was taken away.
Having resigned myself to the fact that my baby sitting of the twins
would be somewhat truncated this weekend, I decided to accept that and go about
enjoying life in the country. I had an extra long orientation session with this
sweet young thing at work who was improving by leaps and bounds thanks to my
dedication and mentoring skills. This young lady showed real potential and I was
thinking about making her my personal assistant in charge of employee morale,
namely mine. More about her at a later time.
That evening I left the dish washing to the kids and escorted my soul
mate to the bedroom for a lengthy romp, determined to not only make sure that
her pussy received the attention and devotion it deserved, but to cover other
less settled areas that had been overlooked more or less. My meaty wife happily
responded to my overtures and soon she was pressing her pussy to my face as my
tongue lapped away at those fleshy flaps guarding the entrance. I did a few of
my special tricks like the reverse corkscrew move that I had originally learned
from my sister and the always popular triple tongue treat that never failed to
tickle Rhonda's fancy. We were having a high old time and she insisted on a
meeting of the loins to express her appreciation for my ardor.
While we were cuddling and resting up from a brisk turn or two around
her spectacular insides she broke the bad news to me. Speaking dispassionately I
had to give her credit for keeping a straight face as she stuck a fork into my
well done carcass. It seems that May had called her earlier in the day and asked
Rhonda to inform me that she and her momma had scheduled this coming weekend for
my final examinations. They were expecting me around dinner time tomorrow night,
and promised a very interesting and enlightening time of it. My alternate Plan B
for the weekend entertaining the Tolliver twins had just been flushed down the
toilet. I was so mad I didn't know whether to shit or go blind. Rhonda started
giggling at about that point and so I closed my eyes and farted.
I cannot go any further at this time for a variety of reasons including
the fact that my tears are making it hard to see what I am writing. In addition
what did occur during my weekend with the ladies was so humiliating that I must
fully prepare myself for the task of being truthful about a set of experiences
that surely would have traumatized your average city dweller. You may be
familiar with the expression that goes something like, " That which doesn't kill
you, only makes you stronger ". Well in this case I am not at all sure that it
worked that way.
