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The Adventures of Wonderslut, New Year's edition

’Twas the night before New Year’s and a great excuse for a party.  Felicity would have to assume her mild-mannered orchid hybridizer persona as she did every year when she hosted her annual bash for the local merchants.  Things usually got good and happy with a little help from the contents of the punch bowl.  This year, she had some of Ma's herbs.  She'd only used a tiny dose to spice things up.  After all, this was a trial run to study the effects on people so she could use the potions to their best effect in her work.  Plus, it'd be a lot of fun.

She glanced around the display and sales areas of the orchid house.  The caterers and decorators had done a fabulous job this year.  Cloth covered tables held platters of delicacies.  Cheeses, sliced ham, caviar.  Chocolate gushed from a fountain, surrounded with bowls of pound cake and fruit for dipping.

The stuffed mushrooms were the key.  She'd mixed Ma's herbs into the bread crumbs before she'd broiled them herself.  She could compare people who ate them with people who only imbibed the alcohol-laced punch for a more or less systematic measure of the horniness power of Ma's magic.  And she had one particular experimental rat in mind.

Jay sauntered in, dressed in his gosh-golly, young computer geek costume.  Jeans with torn knees, a t-shirt from the nearby university, and a sideways baseball cap.  One would never guess by looking at him that below the various fabrics lay the world's greatest fucking machine...the Piston of Love.

"It all looks great, Lys," he said.  "The orchids make it really special."

Her precious flowers showed their blooms proudly all around the room.  In all shades of purple, orange, yellow, and red, they filled the area with enough color to steal a normal person's breath.  Her work as Wonderslut kept her away from the plants for too long.  She needed to make a New Year’s resolution to spend more time in the nursery.

The bell went off over the greenhouse door, announcing their first guest.  Mr. Rossi, the bread baker from down the street, appeared with one of his beautiful loaves under his arm.  He handed it to Felicity and grasped her face to plant a kiss on each cheek.  “Ciao, cara mia.  You are as beautiful as always."

That was a bit of a stretch, given her ill-filling clothes, lack of make-up, and the bun at the back of her head, but Mr. Rossi treated all women as if they were royalty.

"Ciao right back," she said.  "So glad you came."

"Would not miss," Mr. Rossi said.  "And here's the fine young man."

"Hi, Mr. R.," Jay chirped.

"Help yourself to everything," Felicity said.  "Be sure to try the mushrooms."

"Atsa nice."  Mr. Rossi headed off toward the buffet tables.

The bell rang again, and more people entered.  The nice, older couple who ran the hardware store.  A bite or two of the mushrooms could spark up their new year.  The young widow who owned the Cake Shoppe arrived with them.  If she got into the herbs, Jay could probably scratch whatever itches she had if one of the other guests didn’t get there first.  It’d be a good thing for her to start the year off getting laid.

Yes, it should be a memorable evening for everyone.  Felicity certainly did her civic duty with this party every New Year’s Eve.

The newcomers, the Hendersons and Sally Rohl, stopped by to greet Felicity and Jay.  Sally might already be showing some interest in Jay.  He did his usual innocent routine, but that could change as the evening went on.

One of the caterers wandered by, and Felicity handed over the loaf of Mr. Rossi's bread.  "Slice this and put it on the table with some of that special cheese."

The woman nodded and head off toward the kitchen in the back.

More guests arrived, each wishing Felicity and Jay happy holidays.  Pretty soon, glasses were clinking, and conversation filled the orchid house.  The mushrooms were disappearing as fast as the caviar, and Felicity did a little mental arithmetic about how long the herbs would take to have an effect.  People ought to get happy pretty soon.

The bell rang again.

"Uh-oh, look who’s here," Jay said.

Hiram Jacko, the experimental rat, and his wife had arrived.  Jacko glanced around with his usual imperious air, while his better half, Phyllis, wore her usual empty smile and stare.

"I can't believe he came," Jay said.

"I invited him," Felicity said.

Jay's jaw dropped.  "You did?"

"What better subject for my experiment?"

"Jacko?"

"Of course."  Jacko owned and operated the local Values Emporium in the strip mall across the street.  It sold all kinds of treacle for helping to assure that no one ever had any fun.  Especially young people, who if left to their own devices, might think up new and creative ways of having fun.  Horror!  The values folks couldn’t have that.  So they sold tracts on morality and classic works of literature with all the juicy parts cut out.  It was a wonder William Shakespeare didn’t haunt the store for all the damage they’d done to some of his work.

Jacko loved to deliver lectures on morality and the general lack thereof in today’s society.  So far, Felicity's masquerade as a meek orchid nurserywoman had held up under his scrutiny, but she'd thought she'd caught a lecherous glare from Jacko on occasion.  If he was truly the upstanding citizen he claimed to be, he'd resist any evil impulses created by Ma's herbs and keep himself only unto his wife.  If he was actually the leering creep she suspected, he'd probably get one of the female guests alone in a corner of the greenhouse before the evening had ended.

"What about his wife?" Jay asked.

"What about her?"

"Does she always have that same empty stare and mechanical smile?"

"Wouldn't you if you were married to Jacko?" she said.

Jay shrugged.  "I guess."

"Go get another tray of the mushrooms from the kitchen," she said.  "Let's get ready to rumble."

Felicity went to the buffet table and poured herself a generous glass of punch.  Sipping, she glanced around at her guests.  Someone had turned on the stereo and found her favorite Marvin Gaye album.  A few people had already commandeered the center of the sales area as a dance floor, and bodies twined around each other, moving to the music.  Mr. Rossi had found Sally and was twirling her around and bending her over his arm.  The Hendersons danced more demurely, but the sparkle in Joe's eyes promised Mary would have a very happy New Year’s Eve, indeed.  With a some luck and a little help from Ma, Joe might carry on well into the new year.

More and more of the locals had filled the greenhouse.  Felicity’s party was legendary in this part of town, and she never asked to see invitations.  If you could fit inside, you were welcome.  As a result of having such a large crowd, people could get lost in the crush.  Hands could travel to interesting places between partners on the dance floor, and no one would notice.  The din of music and conversation could cover noises coming from dark corners.  If anyone came in non-orgasmic, they only had themselves to blame for leaving in the same state.

A rather alarming sound came from an area behind her, though.  A woman saying “No” with more than a little fear in her tone.  Anything consensual flew here, but coercion was a major no-no.  Wonderslut could handle the situation easily, but Felicity didn’t have time to change, and Wonderslut couldn’t be seen anywhere near Felicity Plumswindle for fear someone would put the two of them together.  Felicity would have to take charge here, and she set down her glass and went off to do exactly that.

As she might have predicted, the culprit was the self-appointed arbiter of “values.”  Jacko had cornered Cara Simpson, the greengrocer’s wife, and had her pinned against a bench full of flowering cattleyas.  He’d puckered his lips in a perfectly gross imitation of an attempt at a kiss, and Cara had placed her palm against his chest to hold him off.  Cara had bent so far backward to get away from him her face nearly disappeared among the blossoms.

“Mr. Jacko, what are you doing?” Felicity said.

He glanced over his shoulder at her.  “Everyone knows what goes on at your parties.  Why shouldn’t I have a little fun?”

“Maybe because a, your wife is only on the other side of those vandas, and b, Mrs. Simpson clearly isn’t that into you,” Felicity said.

“Rubbish,” he declared and went right back to his attempts to impose himself on his victim.

“All right.  I hate to have to do this.”  Felicity grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.  Not exactly the sort of move an unassuming orchid grower would ever attempt.  “Cut it out, asshole.”

He straightened.  “Why, Miss Plumswindle.  You’re an animal.”

Cara Simpson very wisely used the distraction to make her retreat, which left Felicity alone with a values cop she’d just called asshole.  A horny values cop.

“I’m glad you invited me to this den of depravity,” Jacko said.  “It gives me an opportunity to perform an exorcism, of sorts.”

“Exorcism?”

“Evil, Miss Plumswindle.”  The man got so close he nearly stood on top of her, and she found herself bending backward as Cara had.  Like Cara’s head, hers ended up among the flowers.

“I intend to burn it out of you with the flames from inside my soul,” he went on.  “Flames, do you hear me?”

“Sorry about the heartburn,” she said.  “There’s a fire extinguisher around here somewhere.”

“Rise above the lust,” he declared, pulling her against him.  Something had risen, all right.  It pressed into her belly.  Not impressive in size, but definitely hard.  “Break free from your base nature.”

“I’ll break free from something, all right.”  She hooked a leg around him, caught his knee from behind, and kicked, knocking him onto the floor.  Bending over him, she waved a finger under his nose.  “Now, listen, creep…”

The creep had the presence of mind to grab her hand and pull her down onto him, and in a moment, the two of them were rolling around on the floor, the gravel of the walkway crunching beneath them.

“Hiram!” a voice called out in tones worthy of a Valkyrie.

Jacko stopped wrestling with Felicity and stared upward.  “Phyllis?”

“You’ve been a very naughty boy,” Mrs. Jacko said.  She’d lost the glaze over her eyes, and the smile that usually accompanied it was long gone.  With her height and stout form, she did resemble a Wagnerian lady in a horned hat, and the pile of blonde hair on the top of her head enhanced the effect.

Jacko scrambled out from under Felicity and stood with his hands by his sides, his head hanging down.  “I have been bad, my lady.”

Well, well, well.  Mr. Morality was into kink, and his lady love appeared ready and able to deliver whatever cranked his tractor.  Perhaps she’d gotten into the mushrooms, too.  Whatever the cause, she could keep her husband out of trouble and his hands off the other guests.  In the meantime, Felicity had learned what she’d wanted to know.  The guy was a pervert.

Now, when she used the P word, she didn’t mean someone who enjoyed unusual sexual activities.  Who didn’t?  No, a pervert preyed on other people for their own satisfaction.  Armed with this information, Wonderslut would have to take some action in the new year.  This was a nice neighborhood, and it didn’t need the likes of Hiram Jacko messing things up.

While Felicity had been figuring all that out, the pervert in question had unzipped his pants and dropped trou, and his wife stood with his belt in her hand, slapping the leather against her other palm.  When Jacko moved to bend over the bench full of cattleyas, Felicity dashed to snatch the plants away.  They’d been through enough already.

After she’d stashed the orchids safely under a nearby table, she straightened in time to watch Mrs. Jacko lift the belt and bring it down with a satisfying “thwap” against her husband’s naked buttocks.  His hands were out of sight under the bench, and if she ducked under there, she’d probably get a good view of him spanking the monkey.  She’d pass on the pleasure.  Instead, she left them to their fun.  She had some responsibility for their level of horniness, after all.

Back out in the main party area, the night was progressing nicely.  The Hendersons still danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Sally and Mr. Rossi emerged from another area of the greenhouse.  They appeared disheveled, and Sally’s lipstick was smeared all over both of their faces.  She wouldn’t need Jay’s services, after all.

Both Sally and Mr. Rossi baked for a living, so you might consider them businesses competitors.  That didn’t keep them from walking arm in arm out the door, deep in conversation.  Probably something about yeast.

And when you got right down to it, yeast was a pretty good analogy for the upcoming year.  It’d take a while to ferment, and then you’d have to punch it down a bit around March and let it rise to its full height in summer.  You’d bake it in fall and enjoy the harvest, and the whole cycle would start again once you’d eaten it all.

Well, yeah, as analogies, that one sucked, and she hadn’t even eaten any of the mushrooms.  She’d better go off and do exactly that, washing them down with more punch.  Then, she’d find Jay and ring in the new year with a bang.

Happy New Year from Felicity, Jay, and Alice, the twisted mind behind The Adventures of Wonderslut.

The Adventures of Wonderslut - Installment Twenty-Four

When we last left Felicity and Jason, they’d just spent the night and morning with Ma and her five girls, RayAnne, Pearline, MinniePat, SueEsther, and George, and a visitor named Harry.  Quite a handful for our heroes, even the notorious Wonderslut and her sidekick, The Piston.  After a mission well-done, they’re flying home for some rest.

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?"

Jason had to chuckle as he gobbled down the last bites of his cheeseburger.  Felicity only told him she hated him in regard to one subject...food, especially the greasy, delicious kind like the thousand or more calories he'd just consumed.

With her eyes still focused on the instruments of the Slutmobile, she reached out and snagged one of his fries.

 “If I ate like that, I'd blow up like a blimp."

“Try it and find out."  He held the oily bag toward her.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

“Hey, I'm a guy.  I like my burgers loaded and my women plush."

She pretended to scowl at him, but the curve of her lips betrayed too much smile to pull off any real disapproval.  And she did finish his fries.

When she’d eaten the last one, he took all the wrappings and napkins, wadded them into a mass, and stuffed them into the fast food bag.  “Thanks for stopping.  I was famished."

“No problem,” she said.  “The look on the clerk's face was worth losing time."

The expression had been priceless.  Half way between “What the fuck" and “I must be dreaming."  Felicity had had to wave the money under the guy's nose a couple of times to get him to take it.  “He probably doesn't get too many Maseratis in his drive-up."

"With a woman wearing nothing but a man's shirt at the wheel and a bare chested guy in the passenger's seat,” she said.

"I bet he would have liked the French maid's outfit better."

"What there was left of it," she said.  "That'll be a tax write-off.  Business expense."

"Nice work if you can get it."  He reached over and squeezed her bare thigh.  Come to think of it, she really could do with a bit more padding.

"I hope you're through stuffing your face for a few minutes,” she said

“Funny thing…as soon as the effects of Ma’s food wore off, I could have eaten a horse.”  Had to be some kind of withdrawal thing.  No wonder Felicity felt so out of sorts.  She was probably as hungry as he’d been but refused to eat for fear of harming her girlish figure.  He’d cook her something great as soon as they got home.

“Besides, I had quite a workout,” he added.  “Should I remind you I had to satisfy five women?"

“And you did it without breaking a sweat," she said.  "I'm proud of you, kid."

That wasn't strictly true.  He'd sweated plenty.  Ma's girls had wrung him out like a rag.  In any sane world, he wouldn't get another hard-on for a month.  Working with Wonderslut, Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic, hardly qualified as sane.  He'd probably get a boner the moment they got back to the Slutgrotto.  Felicity could do that to a guy.

“So, what did you and Ma talk about while I said good-bye to the girls?" he asked.

“Business."  She kept her gaze on the instruments, but her eyes crinkled at the corners the way they always did when she had a secret.

“Am I going to find out what kind of business?" he asked.

“Ma and I have a lot in common, when you think of it."

“Riiiiight.  She's an old coot, and you're the world's most desirable woman.  She has a shotgun, and you have a website.”

“There are a few differences,” she said.

“She can cook, and..."

“Okay, so I don't make biscuits and gravy."

“You barely eat."

“What's gotten into you?"  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  “Don't you like my body the way it is?"

“Love it, but if there were more, I could love all of that, too."

“Not in this lifetime."  She nodded toward the glove compartment.  “Now, why don't you see what's in there?"

He did as instructed and found a brown paper bag.  Inside was a plastic container of what looked like something you might put into a hookah and light.  “Is this what I think it is?"

“You don't smoke it."  Her eyes crinkled again.

“You put it in brownies?"

“You're getting warmer."

“Did Ma give you this?" he asked.

“After a bit of...ah...negotiation," she said.  “Some of her magical herbs."

He put the package back in the glove compartment.  “What did she get out of the deal?"

“Well, it seemed you really impressed her."

Hey, wait a minute.  Doing the nasty with Ma?  No way.  He was an open-minded guy, but a woman old enough to be his mother’s babysitter?  A woman with a shotgun?  No fucking way.  “I hope you didn’t promise her anything.  She’s not exactly my type.”

Felicity laughed loudly enough for her voice to ricochet around the interior of the Slutmobile.  “Don’t worry.  Ma’s not interested in you for herself.”

“The girls?” he said.

She didn’t answer but just smiled.

“Did you offer a return engagement?" he said.

“You could say...something like that.  You had a good time, right?"

“I barely survived."

She patted him on the cheek.  "It's good practice for you.  You're always going to be in great demand, kiddo.  Better get used to it."

He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Have you taken five guys on at once?"

She gave him an evil chuckle.  "Didn’t I ever tell you about the Americans for a Decent America convention?"

"The ADA?  You attended one of those?" he said.

"Undercover.  Research purposes only.  You've never seen a bigger bunch of twits and pervs."

"Really?  I would have thought they'd be squeaky clean."

"You know what I always say...scratch a prude and find a pervert."  She banked the Slutmobile and settled into their regular landing pattern.  They'd be back at the Slutgrotto in a matter of minutes.

"Now, that's a story I'd like to hear," he said.

"Rustle me up some of your special scrambled eggs and meet me at the hot tub.  You won't believe your ears."

*

It had been seven years earlier.  Felicity had just graduated to the top tier of Sly's assistants when Sly gave her her first real assignment - infiltrate the Americans for a Decent America's annual get together.  Disguised as a milquetoast biddy, albeit a young one, she’d dressed up in sensible shoes and support hose, a gray suit with a pleated skirt that fell to mid calf, and a wig that hung into her eyes.  She drew no attention at all when she registered.

The whole scene was sickly sweet...all the vapid smiles and “praise the Lords."  They obviously didn't let atheists in, or maybe atheists had their own prudish group-gropes.  Hard to picture what that would look like.

For the first day of the conference, she attended seminars on “Family Values, Weaponized," "How to Pretend You‘re an Oppressed Minority," “Bringing back the Ladies Auxiliary,” and various other stifling subjects.  By five, she needed a few stiff drinks to wash the taste of all that righteous indignation out of her mouth.  But first, she stopped in the ladies room on her way the hell out of the hotel.

The murmuring and giggling were her first clue that something interesting was going on near the sinks.  She ducked into a stall and climbed up on the toilet seat before any of the fine examples of moral femininity discovered someone was eavesdropping.

"Enrapture," one of the women said.   "My Charles says he's enrolled me in a special session for this evening.  There are a few other openings if you sign up right away."

That was met by squeals of delight of the kind that serious discussions of morality didn't normally elicit.  In fact, their voices held a more or less obvious sexual excitement.  Enrapture, indeed.  Felicity needed to get herself into that session and get names and evidence.  So, when the voices stilled and the door opened, she gave the women just enough time to get out into the hallway before following them.

They weren't hard to spot.  Three perfectly coiffed heads hovered together as the women proceeded down the corridor in a flutter of decent clothing and barely restrained estrogen.  Felicity hung back enough to hide from them while keeping them in her sight.  They went down a small staircase and around a corner to a part of the conference center she hadn't noticed before.  Nothing in particular marked the room where they ended up, just a table at the doorway and an upstanding middle-aged couple taking the registrations.  The pair didn’t remark on the first three women but merely checked their names against a list on their clipboard, but Felicity was another matter entirely.

The woman sniffed.  “She’s not on the list.”

“I-I’m sorry.”  Felicity did her best to stammer in a subservient manner.  “I only just found out about this session, and I do so want to attend.”

“You weren’t supposed to know about it.”  The woman stiffened.  “It’s only for a few select of our members.”

“My dear, why don’t we let the young lady in?” the man said.

The woman stared at him as if he were some kind of idiot.

The man gave her a patronizing smile.  “What harm could she possibly do?”

“She’s not on the list,” the woman repeated between gritted teeth.  She turned an insincere smile on Felicity.  “Who’s your sponsor, dear?”

“Sponsor?” Felicity repeated.

“The man who registered you for this event,” the woman said.

She couldn’t get in without a man.  Didn’t that just figure?  “Oh, you mean my sponsor!  Well, he’s…um…that is he…he’s in the men’s room.”

The woman slowly set down the clipboard.  “And what’s his name?”

“George,” Felicity said.  “George Smith.”

The man gestured toward the closed door to the conference room.  “You go inside.  We’ll send George along when he gets here.”

“Don’t you dare.”  The woman gestured with her head, and the couple moved several feet off to have a private conversation.  By the looks of things, it didn’t go well.  The man loomed over the woman in a particularly intimidating manner, while she gesticulated and got red in the face.  Finally, he waved his finger under the woman’s nose, and the words “submit” and “male authority,’ wafted to Felicity.

After a few seconds, the woman returned, her lips a straight line of displeasure.  “You can go inside now.”

The man opened the door, and as Felicity walked by, he put his palm at the small of her back.

“The changing room is over there,” he said, his lips nearly grazing her ear.  She glanced around.  Newly out of Sly’s academy, she hadn’t yet learned complete control of her astonishment, and she gasped audibly.  He might have said “changing room,” but the women hadn’t changed into anything.  They were all nude.  No, not completely nude.  Each wore a delicate collar around her neck, connecting them by leashes to their male partners.

“I gather George didn’t explain it all to you,” the man said.

“He left a few details out.”

“Then, he hasn’t given you a collar?”

She could answer that question honestly enough.  “No.”

“Don’t worry, there are extras in the changing room.  Take one you like and bring it back to me.”

“You?”  She hadn’t learned to keep the tone of her voice even, either, because the pitch went up a few octaves.  She gestured toward the doorway and the corridor outside.  “What about your wife?”

“She has things to keep her busy.”  His smile turned unctuous.  “I’ll watch out for you until George gets here.”

“I don’t know.  George might not approve.”

A cold light entered his gaze - a warning they could both stop pretending George existed.  “Run along now.  The session is about to get started.”

“Right.  That is, yes sir.”  She eased her way through the crowd in the direction the man had indicated.  Wonderful, she was going to get naked and put on a collar for a man whose name she didn’t know.  Did she even want to know?  Probably not.

For the first time, she took in the composition of the crowd.  Most participants were in pairs - one man and one woman - but several of the men held more than one leash.  Polygyny, of course.  The opposite - one female with more than one male - didn’t exist inside this moral universe, it seemed.  And forget any man-on-man or woman-on-woman love.  Well, hell, where had she thought she was going?

As she walked across the room, the microphone on stage came to life with a screech.  A woman - clothed, this one, and with a bouffant hairdo that made her head the size of a melon - took the mic from its stand.

“Enrapture,” she breathed into the metal orb.  “Ladies, we’re here to show you how to enrapture your men.”

Didn’t that just figure, too?  Rapture didn’t go both ways in their world.

A chorus of ooohs went up around the room.

“And we all know what our men like best, don’t we, ladies?” the woman crowed.  “Oral sex.”

That would probably go in one direction, too, and the man who’d escorted Felicity inside would no doubt expect service from her.  She’d trained for this for years.  She could do whatever he required and do a damned good job of it.

She ducked inside the changing room, finding only one woman who was in the process of fitting a slender leather collar around her neck.

“They’ve started, haven’t they?” the young woman asked.

“Just now,” Felicity answered.

“You’d better hurry,” the woman said.  “The men don’t like it when we’re late.”

And what the men wanted ruled.  “I’ll be right out.”

The woman left the changing room as if she were late for the last bit of chocolate mousse.  Felicity stripped, leaving her clothing in a heap on the floor.  She kept the wig on her head.

Being naked felt good, even under such weird circumstances.  Being naked was natural…the way she conducted business.  It gave her an edge.  Now in her element, she selected a lace collar from the collection hanging from hooks on the wall, fixed it around her neck, and emerged into the main hall.

On stage, the woman with the pouffy hair had settled to her knees before a man in a finely tailored business suit.  She held his rigid and impressive cock in her hand.

“And now, ladies, learn to explore your man,” she said.  “Find his sensitive spots.  Learn how to give him maximum pleasure.  Remember, the enraptured man is a captured man.””

With that, the instructor proceeded to give her partner head with an expertise that would make any of Sly’s students proud.  Well, Felicity could do even better, so she went off in search of her sponsor…whatever the hell his name was.

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The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-Three

Coitus interruptus.  At the end of our last installment, we left Felicity in the front passenger seat of the Slutmobile, impaled on the cock of a man named Harry who lines truck beds for a living.  Jason was still in the shack with Ma and her five perpetually horny “girls.”  They’d both had heaping servings of Ma’s doctored country biscuits and gravy, which had turned out to be a potent tranquilizer and aphrodisiac.  Harry had been hooked on the stuff for a year.  Will Felicity and Jason suffer the same fate?


As it turned out, Harry had all the right equipment to give Felicity a really good ride.  Though not as big as Jason (what other man was?), his cock filled her nicely, and in this position - kneeling across his lap - the muscles she used to push herself upward in rhythm with his thrusts also caused her pussy to squeeze down on him, creating a delicious friction.

“Oh, man,” he said from between gritted teeth.  “I never felt anything like this.”

“Enjoy, Harry.”  Truth be told, she was having a pretty good time her-own-self.  The special herbs and moss Ma had laced her food with heightened all sensation, so not only did the thrusting of Harry’s erection inside her come through loud and clear, but her breasts had become super-sensitive, the nipples grazing against her costume with every movement.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” Harry said.

“Not yet.  Too soon.”

“Can’t hold off.”

“Yes, you can.”  She reached into her mind and found the center of her power - what Jason had labeled the Slutray.  She didn’t manipulate people’s sex drive or organs lightly, but Harry here needed to learn some control.  Her mission in this world was to make sure all nice people had really nice sex, and Harry’s future partners would thank her for his new staying power.  She stared into his face.  “Harry, look at me.”

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he said as he continued plowing into her.

She took his face between her hands.  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

“Gotta come.”

“Do what I say, or you won’t come, not now not ever.”

That got his attention.  He opened his eyes.  “Huh?”

Without saying a word, she sent a charge of power from her mind into his.
Immediately, his expression cleared.  “I understand.”

“You can last as long as you want.”

“Hot damn,” he said.  “Thank you, Wonderslut.”

“All in a day’s work.  Now get back to fucking me,” she said.  “Like you mean it.”

He did, and he did a bang-up job of it.  His strokes became sure now, sliding into her with a precision that would make an angel weep.  Lord knew she was no angel, and there was a great big orgasm waiting in the near future, just for her.  Harry even got creative enough to ease her French maid’s costume down to free a breast.  He cupped it, massaging the flesh, and then tugged gently at the nipple.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about Harry finishing too quickly, she concentrated on her own pleasure.

Easing her hand between them, she managed to get her hand into the hairs that covered her pussy.  As you’d expect after how she’s spent the night and was now passing the morning, she’d soaked herself completely.  When she reached her clit, it was already throbbing in anticipation of climaxing.  She fondled it gently, stretching out the approach to the peak.  Man, but it felt good - Harry’s sweet fucking and her own expert touch on her hot spot.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” Harry said.

“Oh, yeah.”

“What about that?” he said.  “I’m going to make Wonderslut come.”

He was getting a little help with that, but why argue at this point?  She kept riding him and diddling her clit, feeling the pressure build and counting down to a major lift-off.  Ten, nine, eight…oh hell, three, two…

“Don’t stop, Harry,” she cried.  “Don’t…stop!”

Her entire being became one exposed nerve as the orgasm rocketed through her.  Deep, hard spasms rocked her, gripping at Harry’s shaft.  Sweet, sinful, perfect.  It held her in its grip for long seconds, finally leaving her limp, her pussy fluttering around him.

“I can come now, right?” Harry asked.  “I need to in the worst way.”

“Go for it, lover.”

And he did, with a great deal of enthusiasm.  Staying with him was like riding a bronco, and she might have thrown one arm up for balance if she didn’t need it to hang onto his shoulders.  He moved as if he had the devil inside him, thrusting upward with powerful jerks of his hips.  Finally, he stiffened, slammed inside her one more time, and stayed there while he opened his throat in a roar.  Harry had arrived, and he’d done one helluva job of it by all appearances.

Then, he did a rag doll imitation, crumpling into a moaning pile, and this time, she held onto to him to keep him from sliding down against the gear shift.  He could take an eye out that way if he hit it with his face.  She’d suggested fucking in the Slutmobile, after all, and she had some responsibility to make sure he didn’t hurt himself…at least, not too much.

“Wonderslut, that was amazing,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“See how nice it is when you stick around for the Big Finale instead of leaving at intermission?”  Nice analogy.  She’d have to remember that one.

“I should never have questioned you,” he said.  “You’re the expert.”

Of course, he hadn’t questioned her, at least not while she’d had brain enough for it to register.  He could have recited The Gettsyburg Address while she was fingering herself, and she would never have noticed.  But now, she had other problems to deal with.

“We need to move,” she said.  “I’m getting a cramp in my thigh.”

He opened his eyes and gave her a wicked smile.  “I can massage it for you.”

“Not in here.  No room.”  She started to climb off him and hit pain bad enough to stop her.  Between crouching in the foot well and all the thrusting she’d done, she was having major muscle problems.  Namely, they’d stopped functioning.  She tried straightening out a leg and only managed to bump her shin against the gearshift.  Damn, but that hurt.  “Shit.”

“Let me see if I can help.”  Harry grabbed her ribs and tried to hoist her upward.  She only ended up leaning over his shoulder with her foot jammed under the side of his seat.  The angle bent her back in ways only snakes could move, and she let out a loud moan.

“Just don’t help me,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” Harry said.

She settled back down onto Harry’s lap, which was now without a hard-on - a situation she had no desire to fix at present.  After a couple of deep breaths, she tried pushing herself up onto her knees.  Her thighs trembled with the effort, and after a second she folded and fell back into her original position.

“If we yelled, your friend could come out and help,” Harry said.

“No fucking way.”  She would not give Jason a reason to laugh his ass off over her predicament.  She got herself in here, and she’d have to get herself out.  No matter how she did it, she was going to end up stiff.  Right about now, she’d kill to be in the hot tub in the Slutgrotto with a good, stiff brandy in her hand.

“Then, how are we going to get out of here?” Harry said.

“Open the door.”

“The door?”

“The metal thing on your other side,” she said.  “The one with the handle.”

“It is open,” Harry said.

She glanced down to discover he was correct.  In their eagerness to get to each other, they hadn’t bothered to close  it.  “All right, you lean that way, and I’ll lean toward the door.  On three.  One…two…three.”

They came apart, sort of.  Harry more or less climbed over the gearshift toward the driver’s seat.  Felicity didn’t look to see how his family jewels made the journey, but he didn’t make any noises, so he couldn’t have hurt anything important.  She grabbed the doorframe and pulled herself out of the car.  Unfortunately, her legs still didn’t quite hold herself up, and she ended up falling out onto the ground.  Luckily, the redwood duff cushioned her fall, and at least she was free of the car seat and Harry.

For a while, she lay there, staring up into the trees, contemplating life and how she’d come to arrive at precisely this place.  Sure, she had a pretty unusual occupation, but the past twenty-four hours had certainly been strange.  Role-playing with a pair of strangers - just the samo samo for Wonderslut and her sidekick, The Piston.  But then, things had gotten weird.  Captivity, group sex, drugged biscuits and gravy, oral sex in the foot well of a Maserati.  Now, here she was, flat on her back, dressed in the remaining scraps of a French maid’s costume with redwood duff getting into her hair and, yes, a rock beneath her right hip.  Maybe she should have listened to her mother and majored in engineering or something that would have gotten her a real job, after all.

“Do you like working on trucks, Harry?” she asked without bothering to sit up.

“It’s good most days.”

“Do you ever get bored?” she said.  “After all, if you’ve seen one truck bed, you’re pretty much seen them all.”

“Not at all.”  Harry rose, zipped up his fly, and adjusted his clothing.  “There’s small ones and big ones…and really big ones.”

“That pretty much describes my own job, you know?”  And didn’t that just underline the unity of all human experience?  Truck beds and cocks, the truly important things in life.

“Say, how do I measure up?” Harry said.

“There’s a question you never want to ask, Harry.  You might not enjoy the answer.”

“Shoot.  I thought you liked me.”

“I do, but by now, a gentleman might have offered to help me up.”

“Sorry.”  Harry reached down a hand and assisted her to her feet.  There wasn’t a lot left to her costume, and one of her boobs hung out.  She had redwood duff all over her, and twigs stuck out of her hair.  She needed a long, steaming shower, and somehow, the shack didn’t seem as if it would have enough hot water to get her clean.

“Hey, Felicity,” Jason’s voice called from the cabin.  “Are we staying for dinner or not?”

She turned toward him.  “Not.  I’m not sticking around for another orgy.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he took her appearance in.  “What have you been doing out here?”

“My job.  What were you doing in there?”

Jason’s clothing was what one might call in disarray, with his shirt buttoned up wrong and the tails hanging out of his pants.  He didn’t answer her question but merely blushed.  Playing with ma’s girls again, no doubt.

“Did you eat more of Ma’s food?” she asked.

He avoided eye contact.  “Maybe.”

“We’ve both had enough.  I’m going to have a little conversation with Ma, and then it’s time to go.”


What does Felicity have to say to Ma?  Will the girls let Jason leave?  Does Ma have ammunition for the shotgun in the shack?  And can the French maid’s costume be saved?

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The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-Two

When we last left Wonderslut and the Piston, they were about to enjoy some of Ma's biscuits and gravy, having met Ma's challenge to sexually satisfy all five of Ma's "girls."  One question still hung in the air as they chowed down.


Whatever else you might say about Ma, she sure could cook.  Felicity could hardly shovel the food into her mouth fast enough.  Jason sat with a huge plate of biscuits smothered in gravy, his fork flying.  True country fare, the biscuits were as fluffy as clouds, and the gravy was made with pan drippings from copious amounts of homemade sausage, crumbled and browned.  You might have put pure cholesterol into an IV and dripped it directly into their veins.  But man, oh man, did it taste good, and after that workout, they'd earned it.

The "girls" had also clustered around the table for their own meal.  They'd put their nighties back on, but feminine pulchritude was on display everywhere.  The estrogen flowed like honey, congealing the entire gathering into giggles and oooh-aaahs of satisfaction.  Arms draped over Jason, and breasts rubbed up against his arms, but he kept his face down and went right on eating.  He might be a guy, but he wasn't stupid.

Felicity came up for air long enough to wipe her napkin over her face and take a swig of coffee.  "Ma, this is great.  Do you all eat like this everyday?"

"Pretty much," Ma answered.  "Wait until you try my fried chicken."

Felicity held up a hand.  "Thanks, but I'm stuffed."

"Oh, I didn't mean right now, honey," Ma said.  "It's only daybreak.  We'll have chicken for dinner."

Jason's eyes twinkled.  With the promise of fried chicken and all the adoring females around him, he must have figured he'd landed in heaven.  Too bad for him they couldn't stay.

"That's sweet of you to invite us, but we'd better be going," Felicity said.

"You don't want to leave us," Ma said.  "Trust me on that."

Ma's expression widened into the smile of a cat that had just eaten the canary and washed it down with some liver pate and caviar.  Clearly, Ma had left something out of her story.

"We did everything you demanded," Felicity said.  "We satisfied all your girls."

"That you did.  Done a right fine job of it, too."  Ma's grin didn't diminish in the least.

Okaaaaay, this was starting to get weird.  "We can go then, right?"

"Y'always could.  I ain't got no cartridges in this shotgun."  To emphasize the point, Ma broke the gun open, and no ammunition fell out.  The girls found that funny and broke into more giggles.

Jason straightened, obviously finally figuring out more was going on here than great sex and high calorie food.  "You mean we did all that for nothing?

"Well, now, I wouldn't say that.  You had fun with my girls, and I'm feeding you good," Ma said.

SueEsther brushed her huge boobs against Jason's arm and ran the tip of her finger around his ear.  "We had fun, didn't we, sugarplum?"

"You bet we did."  MinniePat leaned into his other side.  "Right, lambchop?"

The two hovered over Jason as if they were ready for seconds.  George just rolled her eyes, even though she'd had her own go at him only moments before.

"It was my honor and pleasure, ladies," he said.  "But Wonderslut and I have work to do."

"We are free to go, aren't we?" Felicity said.

"If you want," Ma said.

Before Felicity had a chance to make sense of that remark, the front door opened, letting in a few rays of early morning light.  A man entered.

"Ma," he called.  "I'm home."

He went to the kitchen counter, plopped a couple of biscuits down on a plate, and slathered them with gravy from the pan on the stove.  He stopped by Ma long enough to plant an innocent peck on her cheek before taking a seat at the table and diving into his food.

"Harry," the girls cooed.  Pearlene and RayAnne moved to him, lavishing him with their attentions.  SueEsther remained with Jason, her breasts still plastered up against him.

"Who's he?" Felicity asked.  He clearly wasn't one of Ma's children unless the girls took love of family to a pretty kinky level.

"He's our very first visitor," Ma said.  "How long has it been, Harry?"

Harry stopped chewing long enough to furrow his brow in thought.  "Must be over a year now."

Whoa.  Wait a minute.  A sinking feeling settled into Felicity's stomach.  "Did you get Harry the same way you got us?"

"A-yep," Ma answered.

"And he's been here over a year?" Jason asked.

"Best food on the planet."  Harry lifted his fork in a toast.  "Once you've eaten at Ma's, you don't want to go anywhere else."

"I put something special in it so my visitors don't want to leave."

Felicity studied Harry a bit more closely.  He was dressed in ordinary enough clothes - khaki slacks and casual shirt.  He'd appeared normal, too, but now, she could detect a certain glassiness in his gaze and a loose smile that suggested intoxication.  She took a sniff of her own food and didn't detect anything off, but drugs didn't normally smell.

Ma cackled.  "You figured it out."

"You doctored this," Felicity said.

"A few herbs from the woods and a special kind of moss."  Ma grinned her grin again.  "My own ma was a witchy woman and taught me."

Jason had attacked his food again, and Felicity slapped him on the arm.  "Stop that."

He glanced up, and his own eyes had glazed over.  "Huh?"

"It's drugged."  It was pointless to stop him now.  He'd done everything but lick his plate clean, and she'd demolished a lot of biscuits and gravy herself.  The room grew a bit fuzzy in the corners, and Felicity's muscles relaxed.  Whatever Ma had put in the food had gotten to her, too.  And if she wasn't mistaken, Ma might have added a bit of aphrodisiac in there.  Yes, her pussy got a very distinct and insistent tingle.  Oh, great.

All of a sudden, Harry started to look good.  He had brown eyes sloped downward at the corners.  Sad eyes.  Bedroom eyes.  The kind that made you want to put his head on your shoulder and say "There, there" about a dozen times until he got the message and snuggled up nice and close.

She put her elbow on the table in his direction and rested her chin in her hand.  "Say, Harry, what line of work are you in?"

He gave her a lazy smile.  "Truck bed lining."

"Isn't that interesting," she said.  "So you work on pick-up trucks."

"Sure do," he said.  "You got to protect the bed.  You don't want a lot of freight shifting around in the back and damaging your truck."

Felicity had had some weight sliding around in her back, but then she'd started working out.  There was still some weight there, but it was tight enough to bounce a quarter off.

"But you come back here to visit Ma and her girls."

"Whatever chance I get," Harry answered.

"Maybe you'd like a woman for a change," Felicity said.  "Maybe you'd like Wonderslut."

Harry's eyes widened, and if ears could truly perk, his did.  "You're Wonderslut?"

"The one and only."

He took in her clothing...the now very rumpled and maybe a bit torn French maid's costume.  "That's not how Wonderslut dresses."

"My usual clothes are in the Slutmobile," she said.  "You passed it on the way in."

He whistled between his teeth.  "Hot damn.  That really was a Maserati?”

“Sure was.  Want to take a ride?”  She wiggled her eyebrows at him to make sure he understood what kind of ride she was talking about.

“Uh, Felicity?” Jason said from somewhere behind her.  “Shouldn’t we be going?”

“Eat some more gravy,” she said without taking her eyes off Harry.

“But you told me to stop.”

“Since when do you do what I tell you?” she said.  “And diddle SueEsther a bit.  That’ll keep you busy.”

Based on the giggles that came from that direction, SueEsther liked that idea.  A lot.

Felicity rose and held her hand out to Harry.  "Let's go outside, and you can tell me about lining my bed."

Harry squeezed her fingers in his and stood.  "Maseratis don't have beds."

"I wouldn't count on that."

Ma cackled again as they left the shack.  A few minutes and several forkfuls of Ma's cooking earlier that would have sounded threatening.  But Ma was a sweet, old thing when you got to know her.  Or something like that.

Felicity led Harry to the Slutmobile, and he let out a low whistle of approval.  "Nice paint job."

"Thanks.  I had it done to match my nails."  Of course, her manicure had taken a beating with all the messing around she'd been doing.

"A couple of your tires could use some air."

"Would you inflate my tires?"  She put her arms around Harry's neck and pressed her body against him everywhere.  "I'd really like it if you'd blow them all up."

With the right inflection, you could make everything sound dirty.  In a minute, she'd be talking about manifolds and cam shafts and making herself purr like the Maserati's fine engine.

"Or maybe I could blow you, instead," she said.

If Harry's eyes had been glazed before, they nearly crossed with pleasure at the prospect of some oral sex and from Wonderslut, no less.  So, he didn't hesitate when she opened the door to the passenger side of the Slutmobile...she wasn't about to work with the steering wheel pressing into her back...but slid right on in.  With Jason's long legs, the seat was all the way back, and she managed to climb in on top of him.

Okay, now this was going to present a challenge because, although she was sitting nicely on top of him with her boobs pressed into his face, that was no good position for getting her face into his lap.  By slithering and squishing herself backward, she succeeded in fitting into the foot well.  Nice trick to remember if she ever needed to make herself invisible while out on a job, but she'd probably end up with a kink in her neck for her trouble.  At least, now Harry's pelvis lay right within her line of sight, and she could enjoy the outline of a very nice erection pressing against his slacks.

When she unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock, he let out a low groan of pleasure.  Very gratifying.  When she circled the head with her tongue, he sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes.  When she slid her lips along his shaft, taking most of his hardness into her mouth, he sucked in a breath.

"Shit, you're good," he said as he rested his hand on the top of her head.

She gave his hard-on a good loving.  Ma’s witchy weeds had real magic in them, because he swelled even larger as she worked.  An effect almost as large as she could have managed with her Slutray.  As soon as her mind cleared, she’d have to have a talk with Ma and find out where she could get some of that moss.

But back to the matter at hand.  Harry’s pretty and, by now, pretty large erection.  In the light of early morning, it had turned the livid color of near-climax.  If she was going to get any benefit out of this “ride,” she’d better use his gear shift for a joy stick and send them both into high gear.

The crotch-less-ness of the maid’s costume came in handy as Felicity unschrunched herself out of the foot well.  Her thighs trembled, and not from passion but from the effort of getting herself into that position and back out.  Her back rebelled when she tried to straighten, but eventually, she rose over the seat and Harry.  Now, she could finally spread her legs and lowered herself onto his erection.  Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah!

Will Felicity finally satisfy her cravings long enough to collect Jason and get back to the Slutgrotto?  Or will our two heroes find themselves in a constant cycle of Ma’s cooking and sex?  Would that be a bad thing?

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The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty-One

When we left our friends, Jason was doing his best to entertain four buxom beauties while Felicity had just accepted an invitation for some lovemaking with their sister, George.  Only a few feet away, the girls’ mother sat in a rocking chair with a shotgun laid across her lap.  Ma had ordered Jason and Felicity to make sure each one of her five daughters was satisfied if they ever hoped to find their way out of the cabin and back to the Slutmobile.  Nice work if you could get it, and Wonderslut and the Piston got it almost every night.


Felicity untwined herself from George and reached for George’s nightie.  When she’d removed it, she discovered a finely-muscled but still feminine body beneath.  George had small, firm breasts with erect nipples.  Her hips flared to thighs that would have made a Venus proud, and between them were golden curls that matched the natural blonde of her hair.  All around nice.  And edible.

“Nice bod, George.”  Felicity stroked her palm over George’s flat stomach.  “You must show me what you do with your abs.”

“I’ll give you a work-out, all right.”  Smiling in a particularly wicked way, George twirled her finger around to order Felicity to turn.  Felicity complied, of course, and soon George’s hands pulled the zipper of her French maid’s costume down.  Because the thing was little more than a bustier, it all fell away in one piece, making Felicity as naked as George.

The air in the cabin held a chill, and soon, Felicity’s nipples stood at full attention.  They got George’s attention as George turned her around and ran her thumbs over the stiff peaks.  A zing of excitement coursed through her, and the moans from the other side of the room enhanced the sensation.  This was a love den.  A ramshackle, creaky floorboards, grits-and-giblets one, for sure, but definitely dedicated to sin.  Amazing, when you thought about it, the places people could find to take pleasure with each other.

She hardly had the time to contemplate that little insight before George tugged her face down for a kiss.  Cute, how George was taking charge of things when she barely came up to Felicity’s nose.  Her lips felt soft as they teased Felicity’s apart, and her breath was sweet enough to lure Felicity in.  Their limbs wrapped around each other again, snuggling George’s firmness into Felicity’s curves.

Now fully entwined, Felicity and George lowered themselves to the floor, moving like one creature to stay together.  Once there, George took over again, easing Felicity against the floor.  As George’s mouth continued its assault on Felicity’s sanity, they rolled together, the uneven boards pressing into Felicity’s butt.  George’s nipples poked against Felicity’s chest, the only physical reminder that the hard body covering hers was female and not a short guy.  Male body or female, George’s rubbed against hers in all the right ways to create friction and heat her skin.  About time the heating went in both directions.

Felicity flipped them over, pinning George beneath her.  Sitting astride George’s pelvis, Felicity had George fairly well trapped with her greater size.  Just for the hell of it, she caught George’s wrists and held them against the floor on either side of her head.  Whether or not George could break her hold, George didn’t show any sign she actually wanted to.  She put up a bit of a mock struggle, but in fact, her neck and chest flushed with very obvious sexual excitement.

“You like this, don’t you?” Felicity said.

“Go fuck yourself.”  George’s words came out breathy, like a husky whisper.

“Now, now, why would you want to hurt my feelings?” Felicity said.  “After all, I’m the one who’s going to make you come.”

“You and whose army?”

“I don’t need any army.  I only need my tongue.”  Felicity bent slowly, bringing her face to George’s.  George squirmed some but didn’t do anything serious to avoid the kiss that was coming her way.  Inch by inch, Felicity brought her mouth to George’s, and at the last moment, George closed her eyes and parted her lips in invitation.

This time when they kissed, it was a prelude of more momentous things to come.  Felicity took her time, getting to know every curve of George’s lips before moving lower to dip beneath her chin and lay a string of caresses along her neck.  Lower still, she licked circles around one of George’s nipples before pulling it into her mouth.  George was really into it, her chest rising and falling as her breath turned to panting.  With that encouragement, Felicity slid her body along George’s, stroking her hands over George’s ribs as she placed kisses on George’s flat belly and headed toward her ultimate destination.

George’s legs eased apart to welcome Felicity between them, and the plump lips of her pussy blossomed open to expose her erect clitoris.  When Felicity teased it with her tongue, George let out a whimper, begging for more.  So Felicity gave her exactly what she was asking for.  Settling in for some serious eating-of-pussy, Felicity gave George’s hot spot firm strokes until George’s hips began the slow dance of a woman on the climb toward the top.  Felicity ran her arms around George’s thighs, holding her in place against Felicity’s mouth.  George would climax any minute, and Felicity would do whatever she could to make it as good as possible.  Wonderslut didn’t fool around when it came to fooling around.

When the big moment came, George let out a very feminine cry of completion.  Her body stiffened as her voice rose to the ceiling.  Felicity didn’t quit loving George’s clit until George had sagged against the floor boards, moaning.

Immensely proud of herself, Felicity scooted up and propped herself on her elbow so she could gaze down at George’s face.  Not many things on Earth looked sweeter than a woman who’s just had a fabulous climax, and that applied to George.  A rosy glow graced her cheeks, and her eyes were closed.  Felicity bent and kissed her.  Although George hardly moved, she did sigh in satisfaction.  Cute.  Felicity wouldn’t share that last thought, though.  George might slug her.  But she was really cute.

By now, Jason was pleasing more than one of George’s sisters at once, as evidenced by the pair of squeals from across the room.  One sister had mounted him and moved her pelvis back and forth, her eyes closed in bliss.  The other seemed to be enjoying his mouth just as much, as she perched, legs spread, over his face.

George rolled onto her side and took in the scene.  “That looks like fun.”

“Which, his mouth or his cock?”

“Both, I guess, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a man so well endowed.”

Felicity’s chest might have puffed out with pride, or maybe that was just a sexual flush that had her skin turning pink.  Whichever, her sidekick not only had top equipment, but he knew how to use it.  Jason was well on his way toward giving orgasms to his third and fourth lover since they‘d walked in the door - these two at once - but he showed no signs of slowing down.

“Would you like some of that?” Felicity asked.

“I don’t need it,” George said.  “Women are just fine with me.”

“Why limit yourself?” Felicity said.  “Life isn’t just chocolate and vanilla.  There’s also strawberry and tutti-frutti.”

George glanced at Felicity.  “Tutti-frutti?”

“You get my drift.”

“Yeah, drift.”  George stared at her sister enjoying Jason’s monster erection for a good, long time.

“Sure you’re not interested?” Felicity asked.

Just then, the sister climaxed with a long string of loud “oh Gods!”  When she’d finished, she kind of toppled over as if he’d knocked her out.  She slid off Jason, exposing his stiff member completely to their view.  An invitation if Felicity had ever seen one.

“Come on, George.  No time like the present.”  Felicity helped George to her feet, and George rose without resistance or complaint.  They stood for a moment and watched Jason finish off sister number four.  RayAnne or SueEsther or someone.  How was Felicity to keep them separated in her mind after only meeting them a half hour earlier?  The other three had huddled together in a corner, silly-ass grins on all their faces.  Ma still sat in her chair, rocking back and forth with the shotgun still laid across her lap.  Interesting family but probably not greeting card material.

Sister number four finally announced her climax with a series of “ooh-ahhs!” followed by a scream.  The other three giggled while her cry trailed off into a sob and then became what sounded for all the world like a hiccup.  When she rolled off Jason, the others gathered her up into a pile of female flesh.

That left Jason alone, holding his still rigid pole by the base.  The color of his flesh told the story of a man who’d held out long enough to satisfy four women and badly needed some relief for his own lust.  Bright crimson with a droplet of pre-cum at the tip, it was testament to male thoughtfulness and stamina.

“One more,” she said.  “Can you handle it?”

“Bring her on,” he answered.

George gave Felicity a sideways look as if asking for permission.  Felicity nodded encouragement, and with a little blush on her cheeks, George lowered herself to the floor beside Jason.  In little more than a second, he had George on her back and had plowed his way into her.  Wrapping her legs around him, George settled in for the ride.

And what a ride it was.  Jason pushed himself up on his fists while his hips moved, pushing his cock into her and pulling back.  Wet slapping sounds came from where they were joined, and soon both of them were breathing hard.

Felicity sat cross-legged on the floor beside George and stroked her hair, although it wasn’t clear that George even knew she was there.  Her eyes had closed, engrossed as she was, in the pure heaven of being fucked by a master.  Jason seemed equally lost in the moment, his features twisted into a grimace of sexual abandon.

Felicity had had plenty of experience with sex with Jason.  As a matter of fact, she’d had some of that experience right before Ma had shown up with her shotgun.  George might not realize it, but she was at that moment enjoying la crème de la crème, shtupping-wise.  Eventually, she’d have to succumb.  And, as a matter of fact, the way she was arching up to meet Jason’s thrusts and the rising inflection of her voice suggested she would come right…about…four, three, two…now!

Sure enough, George climaxed again just as Jason lost control and pounded into her, throwing back his head to shout.  Some day, she ought to take a picture of him in the throes of orgasm.  She could have it painted into a picture or sculpted into marble.  He was living, breathing, erotic art.

All good things must come to an end, and that applied to their climaxes.  Moaning, Jason lumbered off George and collapsed with his head in Felicity’s lap.

“You did it, guy,” she said softly.

“They killed me.”  He groaned.  “What a way to go.”

Ma yawned and stretched.  “Well now, son, you did a good job.  Nobody ever done all my girls before.”

“I’m not surprised,” he grumbled.

“Hey, wait-a-minute,” Felicity said.  “You said we could only leave if we satisfied all five of them.”

“A-yup.”  Ma’s rocking chair creaked.

“So, where are the other people you’ve caught?”

“Biscuits and gravy.”  Ma rose and headed off toward the stove.

“Huh?” Felicity said.

“That’s what we need,” Ma said.  “Biscuits and gravy.”


What does Ma have up her sleeve now?  Do the girls practice perversions with food, or are we just looking at breakfast?  White gravy or brown?  And what did happen to all those other people?

Alice's website/blog

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Twenty

The post-coital glow suffered a sudden death with the loud cha-click! of a rifle cartridge loading into a chamber.  Though Felicity had never touched a gun of any kind in this life and any previous lives she might have enjoyed, she'd seen enough movies to recognize that sound.  Someone had joined them, and that someone was armed.

Jason pushed himself upward and glanced over his shoulder.  "Um, hello?"

"Well, what do you know?" a gruff female voice answered.  "Third time this month."

Felicity twisted out from under Jason and got into a sitting position, doing her best to pull her French maid's costume - her crotchless French maid's costume - down to cover her privates.

Just out of range of the Slutmobile’s headlights stood a woman holding the biggest rifle Felicity had ever seen.  She hadn't seen many rifles, actually, but the one pointed at you was always the biggest one, wasn't it?

"If I were your mother, young lady, you'd never have left the house dressed like that," the woman said.  "And young man, you pull up your drawers, hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Jason jumped up, tugging his slacks upward as he did.

"Now, then, what were ya'll doing rolling around in my cow pasture?" the woman demanded.

The woman appeared more than old enough to know what they'd been doing, but then, that probably wasn't an innocent request for information.

"You say we're the third couple this month?" Felicity said.

"Ah-yep."  The woman lowered the rifle but not nearly enough to be really comforting.

"Could I ask what happened to the other two?" Felicity asked.

"They paid me and my girls a visit," the woman said.

Felicity and Jason exchanged a glance.  He seemed just as confused as she felt.  Some women referred to their breasts as "the girls."  This woman could better describe hers as "the grandmas."  Geriatric and hanging low.  And you couldn’t call her clothing - denim overalls, t-shirt, and cap with the name of a tractor company - exactly flirtatious.

"And that's what you two are going to do, and you can drive that fancy car up to the house to do it," the woman said.  "Now, git."

Jason reached down to give Felicity a hand up, and they headed back to the Slutmobile, granny right behind them.  After the two of them had taken their seats, granny managed to cram herself into the space in the rear of the passenger compartment.  That meant the rifle stuck out between Jason and Felicity.  She probably couldn't shoot them from that position, but she could do hecka damage to the dashboard and windshield.  Besides, who knew how the bullets might ricochet?  Might as well cooperate for now and look for escape later.

The woman directed them along a dirt road that led to a large-ish cabin.  Actually, the structure more approximated a collection of chicken coops all strung together.  Light shone at the windows, so the place had electricity.  Probably indoor plumbing, too.  Still, Felicity wasn't going to be booking any vacations here.

The woman clambered out over Felicity, thwapping her head a couple of times with arms and legs.  At least, nothing felt like a gun.  Then the woman stuck the barrel of the rifle back into the Slutmobile.  "Come on inside, and no funny business."

Felicity carefully placed a hand against the side of the gun and eased it away from her face.  "Neither of us are feeling particularly humorous."

"Don't need to be," the woman grumbled.  "Move along, now."

Jason climbed out of the car, his arms over his head.  "Moving along here."

Felicity also complied, although she didn't raise her hands.  "If we're going to spend some time with you, maybe we should know your name."

"Just call me Ma.  Everyone does."

Jason put out his hand to shake.  Ma just looked at it and humphed.  "No time for that.  Git inside."

Without further prodding from the rifle, Felicity led Jason up the single step and across a postage stamp sized porch, and into the house.  Everything inside seemed neat enough and even cozy in a Grapes of Wrath sort of way.  One large room with doorways along the sides.  When they entered, the doors opened, and a flock of giggling young women emerged.

They all wore nighties that fell to mid-thigh, each of a different color.  Though not clingy, the garments nevertheless promised copious mounds of female pulchritude underneath.  And each eager face was turned toward Jason, and if gazes could singe, he’d be toast right about now.

"My girls," Ma declared.  "RayAnne…”

A tall young woman with red hair hanging in ringlets around her face raised her hand.

“…Pearlene…”

Pearlene twisted the hem of her nightie in both hands, pulling the garment up to show ample thighs.

“…MinniePat…”

MinniePat winked and wiggled her fingers toward Jason.

“…SueEsther…”

SueEsther had perfectly huge breasts, the nipples poking at the material of her nightie.

“…and George."

"George?" Felicity repeated.

"Want to make something of it?"  The smallest of the women pushed her sisters aside and stepped in front of them.  What she lacked in stature she more than made up in Attitude.  No wonder, after having to go through life with that name.

"Now, girls, don't be playing rough with your toys,"  Ma said.

"I beg your pardon."  Jason didn't do umbrage often, and it looked rather cute on him, actually.  The girls enjoyed it, certainly.  They giggled some more, some covering their mouths with their fingers and elbowing each other in the ribs.  All except for George, who maintained her almost military stance.

"I'm no one's toy," Jason said.

"Y'are now," Ma said.  "Anyone I catch on my land plays by my rules."

"And what might they be?" Felicity asked.

Ma cackled.  Actually cackled, sounding rather like a demented rooster.  "You do whatever my girls ask until everyone one of them is happy."

"Anything?" Jason asked.

Ma lifted the rifle again.  "Anything.  You make them happy, and I let you go."

The girls' giggling rose to pitch levels only dogs could hear.  Deafening, actually.  And they squirmed.  All except for George, who was now staring in the general direction of Felicity's crotch.

"Do you know who we are?" Felicity asked.

"You're two heathen sinners," Ma said.  "Now git to sinnin'."

What a kick in the head.  Ma had no way of knowing she'd just ordered Wonderslut and The Piston to perform what they did day in and day out, or night in and night out.  Felicity counted again.  Four casting lustful gazes on Jason and one on Felicity.  Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, especially if she used the Lust Ray.  Hell, she could get Ma off if that would speed things along.

Jason glanced at Felicity.  "What do you say?"

"Why not?"

"Alrighty then," Jason said.  "Who wants to be first?"

The giggles turned to squeals, loud enough to force Felicity to cover her ears.  "Decibels, ladies.”

The girls descended on Jason like horny butterflies on a nectar-dripping petunia.  Hands fluttered all over him, tugging at his shirt and reaching for his fly.  Pearlene bent to untie his shoes while SueEsther pulled his pants down.  Jason threatened to topple over as they continued to work, but the rest of them helped him to the floor before he fell.

Within in a minute, the girls had him totally naked, and MinniePat grasped his cock and stroked it.  It swelled immediately as it always did, bless his....uh...heart.

"So big," MinniePat cried.  "Ma, this here's the best one yet!"

"I'll say."  An arm draped over Felicity's shoulders.  George had sidled up to her.  Clearly, Jason wasn't the only one who'd get a work-out tonight.  Fine.  As Wonderslut, she was an equal opportunity Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic, although truth be told, it didn't appear these girls had a problem getting satisfaction.  Not with Ma bringing home toys she found on her property.

As George and Felicity watched Jason getting a hand job, George's arm draped over Felicity's shoulder, and her hand slid down to cover Felicity's breast.  Because of her height, George had to get right up next to Felicity to manage that, so Felicity cuddled George's body against her own.  When George's fingers dug into the bodice of her French maid's costume and found the nipple, Felicity reciprocated by reaching around and grasping one of George's boobs through the flimsy material of her nightie.  Kind of sweet, this girl-on-girl action while four other females were competing for attention from the only guy in the room.

With all the limbs tangling in the pile on the other side of the room, it became difficult to determine what belonged to whom.  Eventually, Felicity sorted it all out.  SueEsther had climbed astride Jason's chest and had planted her mouth on his for a kiss that looked like it could take part of his face off.  MinniePat had lowered herself onto his cock and was riding him as if he were a rodeo horse.

Pearlene removed MinniePats's gown and watched as Jason's member slid in and out of her.  "Hurry up and come so I can have my turn."

RayAnne rolled her eyes and then knelt beside where MinniePat was riding the bronc.  “Telling her to hurry won’t work, you gotta make her come.”

Reaching between MinniePat’s pussy lips, RayAnne rubbed what must have been her hot spot because in a moment, RayAnne started yelling, or as she might have put it, hollerin’ like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.  Clearly climaxing and giving her lungs a work-out in the process.  One down, three to go, and Jason hadn’t even broken a sweat.

By now, SueEsther had progressed from kissing Jason to offering him her bountiful breasts.  She lifted them in her hands and directed one nipple toward his mouth.  You never had to ask The Piston twice for some loving, so he kneaded both mounds with his fingers while alternating between each peak, sucking on first one and then the other.

George got up on tiptoe to press her lips to Felicity‘s ear.  “Does it make you hot to watch?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Across the room, MinniePat finally gave up her place sitting on Jason’s erection, and RayAnne had impaled herself.  Pearlene sat nearby, appearing quite put out as one of her sisters had taken control of Jason’s mouth while the other owned his member.  Felicity could understand that because although George was doing a wonderful job with her nipple, that only made her pussy crave some action all the more.

“Now then, what say we have some fun of our own?” George whispered.

“I’m game,” Felicity said.  “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve never made love to a lady in an outfit like yours,” George said.

“And I can honestly say I’ve never made love with a woman named George,” Felicity said.

“It’s either that or the working end of Ma’s rifle,” George said.  “Know what I mean?”

“I do, indeed,”  Felicity said.  “The world is a wild and wonderful place.”

She glanced to where Ma continued rocking in her chair, the weapon in question propped across her lap.  She seemed completely unaffected by the fact that four of her daughters were doing the nasty with a strange man only feet away from her, well, feet.  Nor the fact that her fifth daughter had just propositioned another woman.  Ma was treating the whole thing as though it happened every day.  Come to think of it, Ma had mentioned “third one this month.”

“I’ve never had a nicer invitation,” Felicity said.


Well, now.  It’s been quite a night for the Promiscuous Pair, hasn’t it?  Can Jason really satisfy four women so soon after making love with Felicity?  Can Felicity show George a good time, and will George be man enough for Wonderslut?  Most of all, can all six of them keep Ma’s gun from going off?

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment Nineteen

When we last left Wonderslut and the Piston, their clients John and Paula were dressed in each other's clothing -- Paula in one of John's suits and John in nothing but Paula's apron.  Felicity had donned the crotchless costume of a French maid, and Jason was disguised as the pizza delivery guy.  All in a day's work.

While Jason and Paula recovered from what sounded like really great orgasms, Felicity continued sliding her lips up and down John's erection.  With him standing in the middle of the kitchen, Felicity had had to duck under John's apron, and it now fluttered around her head.  He had a nice cock.  Not overly long but thick and with a prominent head.  She could swallow a great deal of it, which gave him a lot of pleasure, if the groans and moans coming from him were any indication.  She used her free hand to stroke his balls.  Very lightly.  After all, with some things you had to make a slow acquaintance.

In the normal course of sex, John would come soon.  In the normal ways of Wonderslut, she'd be riding him when he did.  But she had a different plan for this couple.  It would probably leave her unsatisfied, but c'est la guerre.

Felicity clutched John's cock in her hand and ducked out from under his apron long enough to figure out what the other two had been up to since they'd come loudly together.  Paula now sat on the kitchen table with her legs hanging over the side.  Jason had taken a seat in one of the nearby chairs and now had his fingers buried in her muff.  The goofy expression on Paula's face said a world of how good what Jason was doing to her felt.  His hand kept moving, moving in a way that made Felicity experience friction against her own clit.

Felicity kept pumping John as she watched Paula's eyes drift closed.  "Wouldn't you like some of this, Mr. King of His Castle?"

"Hm?" John asked.

"Not you," Felicity said.  "Paula, your wife.  Actually, your husband.  You remember the game, right?"

"Hm?" John repeated.  He probably wasn't processing information any more clearly than his wife was right now.  Both of them had approached the breaking point, but she was going to have to get their attention if she hoped to complete this mission any time soon.  Honestly, the faster she could finish with John and Paula, the faster she could get back to the Slutgrotto.  With Jason.

"So, Paula, wouldn't you like some of this?" Felicity said.

"Um...yes?"  Paula answered.

Jason diddled her some more.  "You're in charge here, husband.  Don't just ask for what you want.  Demand it."

"Yes, I want it.  Oh man, I want it.  Now."

"Whatever you say, dearest," John said.  Felicity released him, and he went directly to his wife, spread her thighs, and placed his tool at the entrance to her toolbox.  When she wrapped her legs around him, he began some vigorous thrusting.  Most likely Paula had learned her lesson, but whether she had or not, Felicity needed to get out of here to someplace where she could get Jason alone for a few minutes.

She went to where John was plugging away inside Paula and stared down into the woman's face.  "You've learned a lesson tonight, right?"

Paula's eyes were closed, and her face was twisted with passion.

"Right?" Felicity repeated.

"Right, right, sure...oooh, um...just go away," Paula answered.

Felicity grabbed Paula's face, squishing her mouth into a circle.  "I'll go away when I'm convinced you won't go back to being a prude when we leave."

Damn, why did she have to be dealing with this woman?  Paula was getting exactly what Felicity needed, but Felicity still had to take care of business.

"So tell me," Felicity said.  "Have you learned your lesson, or do I have to stick around to keep asking you questions?"

"Learned!" Paula shouted.  "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, oh.  Oh!"

John came right after his wife.  He thrust like crazy a few more times and then stiffened as a shout burst out of him.  After a minute, he collapsed on top of his wife, nearly toppling them off the table.

"Our work here is done," Felicity declared.  "Let's go."

She and Jason gathered up all their things and made their way to the door, leaving John and Paula moaning and gasping for breath behind them.   As they walked toward the Slutmobile, the cool outside air washed over Felicity.  Though her usual Wonderslut costume didn't provide a lot of warmth, it did a better job than the French maid's outfit.  The crotchless French maid's outfit.  That ought to put a wet blanket on her libido, but in truth, nothing was going to give her any relief before she could get Jason someplace private.  Walking, or better teetering, on the spiky heels across a gravel driveway, took way longer than she would have wanted.  When she went to the passenger side of the Slutmobile, Jason's eyebrows went up.

"You're letting me drive?" he asked.

"I'm in no condition to do it."

He gave her an evil grin.  "Now, why would that be?"

"Don't ask questions.  Just get inside and drive."  She climbed into the passenger seat.

Jason slid behind the wheel and started the engine.  Somehow, she'd never noticed before that the motor vibrated.  Well, it didn't, really.  The engine was as smooth and as strong as cafe mocha.  But in her state, anything moving against her bottom and between her legs could get her attention.  The lack of a crotch on the costume didn't help matters.  In fact, the leather seat was getting damp.  She moved first one way and then the other, trying to find a comfortable position, but that only made matters worse.

Jason glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and then bit down on his lower lip to stifle a grin.

"What?" she demanded.

He widened his eyes, doing his best to look innocent.  His best wasn't nearly good enough to fool her, despite her mental state.  Out of pure frustration, she pounded him on the upper arm.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She didn't answer but stared out the windshield, seething.  He knew damned well what was wrong with her, and he was enjoying himself over it.  She'd take out her irritation on him, but good, when they got back to the Slutgrotto.

"You seem restless," Jason said.  "Is that seat uncomfortable?"

"You ought to know.  You've sat in it often enough."

"True, and usually, it feels great."

"Well it doesn't feel great right now."  She crossed her arms over her chest.  Of course, that pushed her boobs upward.  Jason glanced at them quickly and then looked away.

"Want a little help with what's bugging you?" he asked.

"I don't want a little anything."  She wanted a great, big something, and Jason had better manage that the moment they got home or she might have to use her ray on him.  No, not that.  Both of them had to trust that whatever he did was wholly of his own choice and ability.  No magic.  No manipulation.

"You sure?"  He snaked his hand between her thighs and up toward her pussy.  He encountered moisture, of course.  "Poor thing.  You really are horny."

"Work always makes me that way," she said.  "I can take it."

"You're sure about that, are you?"  His fingers burrowed between the lips of her sex and rubbed right up against the most sensitive part.

She bit down on her lip, but a yip escaped, anyway.  This was so not fair.  All she wanted was a good fucking, and he was going to make her come while they flew over suburbia somewhere.  Oh, hell, no.  She pushed his hand away.  "Thanks but no thanks."

Jason chuckled.  "You're being a baby, you know that?"

She gave him the stare of death.  He'd laughed, had he?  He was sure as hell smiling like a smug bastard.  "The punk kid I took under my wing has no place calling me a baby."

"I might have been a kid when I came to work for you, but you've made a man out of me."

"That's the whole point, genius," she said.  "I want a real lover, not a finger-fuck quickie."

"And you need a real man for that."

"Right," she said.  "You know where I can find one?"

The brilliance of his smile didn't dim in the least.  "I'm not taking the bait, Felicity."

"I'm not baiting you, punk.  Just drive."

Sheesh.  The way this conversation was going, she wouldn't want sex with him when they did get back to the Slutgrotto, whenever the hell that would happen.  The gps hardly seemed to be moving, even though the Slutmobile's jet engines were roaring right along.  Probably her imagination.  One way or another, she was going to get home without giving his teasing the dignity of letting him watch her have an orgasm against the leather seat.  Or rather, the lack of dignity, as the case might be.  Oh, hell's bells.

"I tell you what," he said.  "How about I find a good place to land for a few minutes?"

"Taking pity on me, punk?"

"You're never a pity fuck, Felicity.  I hope you know that."  He got that serious light in his eyes - the one she usually tried to discourage.  Having sex with each other was one thing in their business.  Emotional attachments were something else altogether.  Neither of them could afford to start feeling as if the other one belonged to them.  She cared for the guy in her own scratch-my-back-and-I'll-scratch-yours sort of way.  She could manage that while keeping things light.  He had to learn to do the same.

Before she could deliver that lecture…again…he banked the Slutmobile and began a descent toward a field in the middle of a bunch of other fields with not much else around.  Who in hell knew where they were?  She sure hadn’t been paying attention to their flight plan.  The scenery might not resemble a great location for some hot and fast sex, but at least it offered privacy.  As long as he could land the plane without tipping them over into a pile of cow patties.

He found a road between two fields - narrow but paved - and landed smoothly.  When the jet engine died and the regular motor kicked in, he turned onto a gravel path that led to a clump of trees.  With even the starlight blocked out by branches up above and no nearby streetlights, only the Slutmobile’s headlights provided any illumination.  It’d be enough for them to find their way around, and this wasn’t going to take long enough to drain the battery.

Now that relief was on its way, Felicity could take her time to enjoy some anticipation.  As Jason climbed out of the Slutmobile and went around to the trunk, she got out and stretched her legs.  He’d draped a couple of blankets over one arm and slid his other arm around her shoulders to guide her to the base of a tree.

They snuggled down into the blankets like a pair of nesting birds.  With Jason still in his pizza delivery costume, he only had to unzip his pants and push them and his shorts over his hips before he could settle himself between her legs and drive himself inside her.  And man-oh-man did he make the wait worth it.  Her muscles clenched around him, savoring the friction.

What was that song?  Yeah, Nobody Does It Better.  No one did it better than her sidekick, and as the blood rushed in her ears and the world retreated, Jason moved faster.  And harder.  And deeper.  Her poor clit, which had so craved contact, now jostled with every thrust.  When she could not take any more, when his grunts said that he was ready to lose control, she surrendered to her the orgasm that had started gathering somewhere in the sky over John and Paula‘s house.

She let out a howl as her pussy did the happy all around Jason’s member.  He came right after her, master fucker that he was.  After endless seconds of pure heaven, they lay in a heap, both of them breathing hard.  She found enough strength to stroke his hair as a huge sigh escaped her chest.  She was definitely going to have to give this man a raise.

Alice's Blog/Website

Alice Gaines

The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment 18

Felicity seemed to take everything in easy stride when it came to these assignments, but for Jason, some things still felt new.  In theory, there was nothing weird about a woman wearing her husband's suit with the pants pooled down around her ankles.  And he'd certainly watched cunnilingus in his day, although he generally preferred performing it.  But you didn't see a boner, and a rather nice one, underneath an apron every day.  It seemed a Susie Homemaker moment in a bass-ackward sort of way.

"I have an idea."  Felicity punched the top of his arms.  "Keep them busy.  I'll be right back."

"Right...uh, how?"

She didn't answer because she'd already disappeared, carrying the duffel bag they'd brought.  A door closed behind her, leaving him in charge.

He turned his attention back to Paula and John.  John was doing his best both to feast on his wife while stroking his cock, but he didn't seem to be making a lot of progress.  Paula still slumped back against her chair, her eyes closed, but by now, she ought to have progressed from breathing hard to making “I'm-going-to-come” noises.

John stopped eating her and glanced up into his wife's face.  "Honey?"

Paula opened her eyes.  "It's no use.  I can't.  I just can't."

Well, shit.  Felicity had left him in charge, and things had gone sour already.

"Sure you can, Paula," he said.  "John's doing a bang-up job.  Just keep going."

"I can't have sex in front of an audience.  I can't have sex dressed in the suit I picked up at the cleaner's today."

"Awww, honey," John said, his face falling.

Okay, this wasn't turning out right.  If he didn't think of something soon, he would have his first utter failure at his job as sidekick to the Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic.  And speaking of Wonderslut, where was she when you needed her?

"Zoot alors."  The door Felicity had closed behind her had flung open, and she stood on the threshold.  Genius.  Pure genius.  She'd put on the naughty French maid costume.  The crotchless naughty French maid costume.  “Let zee orgasms begin.”

Paula groaned.  "You don't mean me, I hope."

"But of course.  You will achieve, or how they say arrive.  I guarantee."  Felicity did her magic thingie with her hands, casting the Slutray in Paula's direction.  It had the usual effect.  Paula flushed a deep red, and she tugged frantically at her, or rather John's, tie and then nearly popped the buttons of his shirt to bare her chest.

"You know, that might not be half bad."  Paula struggled for breath, her breasts rising and falling.  "John, dear, would you mind?  That thing you were doing..."

"You're the husband, non?" Felicity said.  "Order him."

"Yes, honey, order me," John fairly chirped.

“Do it,” Paula said, almost forcefully for an order.  “I’m the king of this castle, right?”

"Always the master," Jason whispered.

"Watch how it's done, kid," she answered.

"Now then, madame."  Felicity flourished her feather duster in John's direction.  "Do what your hardworking husband orders, and you'll receive your reward."

"You bet."  John eased Paula's thighs apart and pressed his face against her pussy.  Soon, Paula was making all the right noises, the rising inflection of her gasps telling the story.  John had found her sweet spot, and he was giving it the once over and twice over and on and on and on.

"Want to get in on the fun?" Felicity asked.

"It looks as if they're doing well on their own."

"I only fixed her temporarily.  She needs more than a dose of the Slutray, she needs a major attitude adjustment, and you and I are going to give it to her."  She shoved the duffel bag into his arms.  "Select a costume and get to work."

If the boss wanted him to create some fun, who was he to argue?  Besides, Felicity looked as cute as all hell in that costume.  If he played his cards right, he might get to sample some of her French booty.  Zoot alors, indeed.

He ducked behind the door she'd used and found himself in a combination laundry room and storage area.  He sorted through the stuff in the duffel, tossing aside sequins and sashes, feathers and leather.  At the bottom, he found ordinary slacks, sneakers, and a polo shirt.  That didn't make a lot of sense until his hand landed on a cardboard box.  A pizza box.  He could play the delivery guy -- the poor schmuck with the large pepperoni in his hands and major wood in his pants.

He slipped out of his Piston unitard and got into his costume.  Felicity hadn't packed any shorts, so he'd have to go commando.  The denim rubbed against his cock, and that and his imagination soon gave him a pretty nice erection.  It'd get better and soon.

He gave the door a few firm knocks.  "Pizza."

Felicity opened the door, although it swung toward him rather than away as a front door would.  You had to work with what you were given.  The show must go on.

"Madame, monsieur," she called over her shoulder.  "Zee pizza, she has arrived."

Paula chose that exact moment to let loose with a scream that told anyone who happened to be listening within the zip code that she'd arrived, too.  The Slutray would do that for you.

"It looks as if she's already been served," Jason said.

"He," Felicity corrected.  "He's the husband.  The wife is standing over there."

John, "the wife" was standing next to the kitchen table now, his cock acting like a tent pole under his apron.  Paula had returned to her senses and was now the deep, deep pink of embarrassment.  Clearly, Wonderslut and the Piston had more to accomplish here, and honestly, his own Mr. Happy wouldn't mind a little work-out.

He held up the pizza box.  "Where should I put this?"

Felicity pointed at the outline of his cock behind the denim.  "More importantlee, where should you put that, mon ami?"

"I aim to please," he said.

"Now, monsieur."  Felicity went to Paula and knelt before her.  "I can serve you as your dear wife has done, or you may indulge yourself with this fine, young man who's brought your pizza."

Paula glanced at the front of Jason's pants out of the corners of her eyes.  Though the Slutray might have worn off after that loud orgasm, she still showed a great deal of interest in what she saw.  Short or tall, old or young, adventurous or stifled, as Paula obviously was, Jason had to admit that all women took to his Piston like macaroni did to cheese.  Felicity always told him it was the combination of hung-like-a-horse, eager-beaver, and gosh-golly innocent good looks.  Paula stared for a minute before crossing her arms over her chest.  "But, he's a man."

“Well, yeah...that is, mais oui," Felicity answered.

"And I'm supposed to be the husband," Paula said.  "How's that supposed to work?"

"Eeez simple."  She turned toward John.  "Say, do you mind if I drop the accent?"

"Do I still get to lust after you?" John asked.

"If things work out the way I think they will, you'll get to do a lot more than that," Felicity said.

"In that case, you can speak Martian," John said.

"Look, Paula."  Felicity put her hands on Paula's knees and looked up in her face, just brimming with empathy and sincerity.  She's used exactly that look on Jason more than once.  It always worked, even when he saw right through it.

"Look at the three of us," Felicity went on.  "All of us are here to make sure you have the best sexual experience of your life."

"We are, honey," John added.

"You two as well?" Paula glanced from Felicity to Jason.

"Exactly," Felicity answered.  "That's what we do.  It's our mission.  Our raison d'être."

"We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional,'" Jason tossed in.

Felicity glared at him over her shoulder.  Paula and John looked at him as if he had, indeed, started speaking a language from another planet.  He just stood there and gave them a gosh-golly smile.

After another few seconds of awkward silence, Felicity returned her attention to Paula.  "Your husband loves you very much."

"I do, honey," John added obediently.

"If you loosen up a bit, you can experience something new, something exciting, something je ne sais quoi."  Felicity took a breath.  "Dammit all.  You know what I mean."

"You mean, I should let myself go and really experience life?" Paula asked.  "I should get over my inhibitions and let it all hang loose?  I should forget all the things my mother told me about sex?"

"Especially that last part," John said.

Paula lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders like a warrior about to enter battle.  "I'll do it."

"Okay, husband, tell us exactly what you want," Felicity ordered.

Paula rose and pointed at Jason.  "I want him to f-f-f-f-"

"Fuck you," Felicity said.  "Say it.  'I want the pizza guy to fuck me.'"

"I want the pizza guy to bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me," Paula declared.

Jason tossed aside the pizza box.  "I'm here to deliver."

Paula almost tripped in her haste to get her ankles out of the pants of her husband's suit, but as soon as she'd managed, she leaned over the table and spread her legs.  So much for him doing the bending.

With her in that position, he had a clear view of her pussy, and it was truly adorable.  Sweet lips all plump and soft and begging for attention.  Before his cock burst the front of his slacks, he unzipped them and pulled his member out.  When he got to the table, he dropped trou completely, and his pants hung down around his ankles the same way Paula's had a few minutes ago.

She was wet and ready for him, so he slid into her easily and began thrusting in even strokes.  No matter how many missions he went on, he never tired of a good, slow fuck.  Every woman had her own secrets, and discovering them made her a landscape of delicious mysteries.    Paula's muscles gripped him, as though she couldn't get enough, and her breathing went all ragged and loud.  A highly aroused woman.  She had to have conquered her inhibitions at least a little to allow a stranger to take her in front of her own husband.

He could make it sweeter for her, though, and this position gave him easy access to her on button.  He had to stop thrusting for a moment to pull her back toward him and bend to wrap his arm around her waist.  His hand encountered her pussy hairs wet enough to soak his fingers, and when he parted the lips, her clit nearly sprang out at him.  It was as hard as his cock, and as he stroked it, her muscles clamped down onto him and her hips did a shimmy as if she couldn't hold still.  He knew the feeling.

"Hot damn," she said.  "That is so fucking good."

"Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah," he said.  Not exactly profound, but his brain's areas of higher thought had tuned out about the time he'd realized how wet she'd become.  In fact, he'd approached the point of no return and had better make her come first.

"Don't stop," she cried.  "I'll die if you stop."

Technically, she'd suffer a small death if he continued, but why in hell was he still thinking in French?  His body had taken over, and he shoved himself into her harder.  Still, he managed to keep manipulating her clit, rolling and tweaking.

"Yes, yes, yessssssssss!"  She screamed as her pussy went wild around his cock.  The unmistakable sensations of a woman having a damned fine climax.  He didn't have to hold back any longer, so as his own orgasm coiled and broke free, he made the last few massive thrusts and grunted as he came in wave after wave.  Holy shit, it was good.  Nearly taking the top of his head off.  The ecstasy went on for bone-rattling seconds before he nearly collapsed, bending over her body, moaning.

Nice job, if you could get it, and somehow he'd managed.

What have Wonderslut and John been doing while Jason shtupped Paula?  Has Jason freed Paula of her inhibitions?  Is the meatloaf burning in the oven?

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