New wife loves husband's son.
Smooth and seamless. Couldn't have done it better myself.
Too bad I saw the whole thing, start to finish.
Too bad for them, I mean.
I grabbed the pickpocket from behind. "Make it look good," I told her. I held onto her hips and rubbed my pelvis against those solid chunks of buttcheek.
"Fuck off," she snapped, pulling away. Her violet eyes burned back at me. "I'm working."
"You some kinda cop?"
"Nope. Just a common criminal, same as you."
"So cut me some slack."
"What, outta the goodness of my heart?"
She didn't say anything and then she said, "How much you want."
"How much you got?"
"Two-fifty and you go away forever."
"Business is that good, huh?" I asked, holding out my hand.
"Not here," she hissed. She had lustrous blue-black hair down to her shoulders with bangs cut straight across her forehead. "Talk to my associate. Meet her in the funhouse."
"Her?" I asked, thumbing at the one in the denim jacket and red cap.
"You know, as in a woman?"
That's when I started to get that feeling I get when I'm gonna get laid.
* * *
We headed for the funhouse. BUMP IN TH' DARK, it was called.
"Fun my fat ass," I bitched.
We were all alone in there -- us and the broken down gimmicks and gizmos. The only thing that worked was the funny mirrors, and even they were cracked.
"Your problem is you ain't fucked up enough," she said, helping herself to the joint in my mouth. Primo Kentucky bluegrass.
She pulled the smoke deep inside and held it there, letting it fill her lungs and poison her bloodstream. She exhaled. Her sugar-coated smile glowed purple in the blacklight.
"Naw, that ain't it," I said. "I have always believed that people got to make their own fun."
"You got any ideas?" she asked.
Before I could answer she pulled off her grimy cap and shook out her long, double platinum blonde hair. She unbuttoned her jeans jacket and threw it in a corner.
She wore nothing underneath. Her tits knocked together like two Skee Balls. They were fake as a hooker's orgasm but they got the job done.
That shameless hussy's finger traced the outline straining against my pants. "You got what I want," she gushed. "A great big hunk o' love."
"Now about my three hundred scoots," I said. "Before we go any further."
I was stoned but I wasn't stupid. She pouted her lips and made the cutest boo-boo face. But I wasn't buying the act.
I told her I was serious and she said okay and dug out a handful of bills and counted out three hundred in fives, tens and twenties. I was prepared for the worst, half-figuring that the dickplay was just a diversionary tactic. But once she'd paid me off, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against my crotch.
I was thinking that this was pretty all right as she tugged the zipper down. I could hear the click of every tooth.
It sprung out like a jack-in-the-box. She jumped back, staring as it uncoiled and stretched. My midway monster swayed and stiffened before her wondering eyes. They were as big as saucers.
She made nice with my nads. But I was too shit-faced to feel it until she really started cranking. Arousal cut through the weed as she leaned in and inhaled.
When she popped it out again, it was fully inflated. "I love to feel it blow up in my mouth," she goes.
She started to massage me again. I thought she was gonna twist it like a balloon animal. I was gonna wind up with a goddamn poodle for a prick and I didn't give a shit.
"By the way," she said. "My name's Penny. Penny Happening."
"Baby, you'll never know how pleased I am to meet you," I said as she bent forward to engulf me again.
I leaned way back to give her multi-talented tongue room to work. That's when I noticed the psychedelic blacklight poster on the wall, curling up at one corner. ASS, GAS OR GRASS, it said, NOBODY RIDES FOR FREE.
There are as many ways of giving a blowjob as there are women, but her voracious technique was unmatched in the history of head. She was a real slut about it. Which made it all the better.
What enthusiasm! She pulled out all the s