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Subject: {ASSM} My Reward, Ch47 (a little of everything)
Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 21:10:01 -0500
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<1st attachment, "chapter_47.txt" begin>
My Reward By Azil Copyright 1998-2000

   Disclaimers:

   This is a work of fiction.  No character is meant to resemble any
specific person, living or dead.

   Sexual actions of various types will be depicted in this story.  This
does not mean that the author approves of these actions, has ever performed
any of them, or would perform them if given the opportunity.  (Nor does it
mean that he doesn't, hasn't, and/or wouldn't).

   This is inappropriate reading material for minors.  In many
jurisdictions it may be illegal for minors to read it, or for adults to
make it available for minors to read.  The author urges you not to disobey
these laws.  Even if it isn't illegal where you are, keep it away from kids
anyway.

   CHAPTER 47: FUN WITH TOM AND TOM AND TOM AND . . .

   "Good job, Cassie," came the voice from the doorway.  We looked up to
see Sharon, who walked slowly toward the bed, obviously excited, but trying
not to show it too much.  "I apologize for watching," she went on, "but I
wanted to make sure you fulfilled your responsibilities properly."

   Cassie was embarrassed but, as I winked at her, she remembered that she
had little room to complain about voyeurism.

   As you might imagine, as excited as she was by watching us, it took
little to persuade Sharon to join in a family fuck, which I billed as
"fully sealing our marriage."

   Sharon hesitated at the edge of the bed, but joined us as I put my hand
out to her.  I pulled her down between Cassie and me, and immediately began
unbuttoning her blouse.  She again hesitated, torn between lust and guilt.
Lust won, and she unbuttoned her own shorts.  I told Cassie to pull them
off.

   The girl looked at me in shock.  I said calmly, "You're both my wives,
and it's your duty to show your love for your sister wives.  It's also your
duty to obey your husband."

   Cassie slowly put out her hand to the waist of her mother's shorts. 
"Cassie, it's okay," her mother said softly.  "I love you, and I want us
both to be able to show our love." Then she reached out to pull her
daughter close for a loving kiss.

   The next couple hours were spent in what amounted to a training session,
showing Cassie and Sharon how to suck on tits and lick pussies.  Both were
apt pupils and showed a real passion for perfecting their technique, and I
assured them with a smile that I had no problem if they practiced on their
own when I wasn't around.

   It was a pleasant afternoon, followed by a pleasant night as I slept
between my two wives.  In the morning, as Sharon and Cassie took turns
giving me a wake-up blowjob, I made a mental note to order a bigger bed --
though how big it might need to be was made clear when Sharon told me the
next night that Little Bit was jealous and upset that she was sleeping
alone while the rest of the family shared one bed.  She suggested that
maybe I ought to consider marrying her, as well.  I answered that maybe we
ought to wait a while on Little Bit, who was, after all, only ten.

   Sharon backed off the suggestion, but I could see the issue would be
brought up again -- she was definitely getting into polygamy (and
lesbianism).  But for the moment, my mouth on one tit, my hand on the
other, and Cassie's inexperienced but fast-learning tongue on her clit
removed any thoughts of other matters.

   Things in my household across town were not going so harmoniously.  I
had decided there was little or nothing I could do in regard to Thomas's
latest foray into sex, except to have Reward steer him away from girls for
the moment and concentrate him on his soccer team -- time enough for girls
in another couple years, I thought.

   Chris was becoming more and more distant toward me, and I was becoming
concerned that our marriage might really be heading toward the rocks.  I
again considered using Reward to straighten things out, but again backed
away.

   In part, I knew, I was saving face for myself.  I had compromised many
of the things I had set out as rules at the beginning -- not interfering
with Chris was the last rule remaining unbroken.

   I also considered a lesser action -- just exploring her mind to
determine the causes of her negative attitude toward sex.  I put that aside
for future consideration.  Perhaps I was afraid that I might find that it
wasn't a negative attitude toward sex, but rather a negative attitude
toward sex with me.  Or perhaps I was just having too much fun with too
many other women and figured that if Chris didn't want to enter into the
fun, it was her problem.  If the latter comment reflects a certain amount
of frustration and impatience with Chris, that's perhaps the truth.

   As for the remaining member of the family, Sarah -- sheesh!  Most of the
time she was silent, sullen, and withdrawn, ignoring all of us and filling
the whole house with ice.  Then she'd speak up, with nasty, corrosive
sarcasm, and we'd all yearn for her silences.  She had become, in short, a
raging bitch.

   I've talked a lot about the car issue.  Obviously, the matter went much
deeper than that -- she was grasping, greedy, materialistic, spoiled.  The
car was just a visible symbol of her nature -- a nature for which I, as her
father, probably must take much of the blame.

   The car became a very hot issue again on a Friday afternoon in early
October when I got a call from Sarah telling me that it had broken down. 
She was at home and couldn't get to the mall because the car wouldn't
start. She was almost shouting at me that I had to Do Something
Immediately.

   I probably made her madder by failing to see a run-down battery (or
whatever) as a major crisis.  I know I made her madder by joking about it,
saying that I wasn't that upset, but that not doubt the mall merchants'
association would see it as a black day.  It wasn't that great a joke, I
admit, but I didn't feel it merited the icy silence it received.

   Obviously, I could have had Reward fix the car -- I had no doubt his
mechanical skills greatly exceeded those of whomever AAA would send out. 
But I didn't feel like it.  "Call AAA," I told her.  "They might get it
started -- if not, they can tow it to Chuck's."

   "But then I won't have a car!" she wailed.

   "Chuck will probably have it running tomorrow if he's not too busy," I
answered, failing once again to see a carless weekend as a tragedy.  "If
not, he'll fix it Monday."

   "So how am I supposed to get to the game tonight?" she asked.  "It's
Homecoming, you know."

   So now we were at the root of the problem.

   "I guess I could borrow Mom's car," she added after a pause.

   I don't know why I did it -- I guess I was just in one of those moods.
Anyway, I answered, "No, that's okay.  I haven't seen a high school
football game in a long time, so I'll take you."

   You can imagine how that went over.  Sarah was quickly off the line (she
just barely managed to not hang up on me), saying she'd get a ride with a
friend.

   I laughed to myself about the discomfiture the prospect of being seen
with her father had caused Sarah, then forgot about the whole thing, having
some work that needed doing, as well as Wendy's cunt that needed fucking --
as usual.

   Wendy being endlessly creative in terms of sex, having done almost
everything, and being willing and eager to try anything she hadn't yet
done, I had asked her to suggest something different.  Her first
suggestion, that I shit on her face, I passed on.  She shrugged to indicate
that she didn't understand my reluctance to engage in this particular
behavior, but that she could accept such weirdness.

   At the moment when we had been interrupted we had been engaged in her
second choice -- a bit of light bondage.  Wendy was, as I talked to my
daughter, chained to the wall of my office, a ball-gag in her mouth, her
body bent over a sawhorse, her ankles chained widely apart, and her butt
sticking out.  My cock had been busy deciding whether to slide up that ass
or the neighboring cunt when the phone had rung.

   Wendy had waited patiently while I talked with Sarah, her butt providing
motivation to conclude the call quickly.  When I got off the phone, I
asked, jokingly, "Now, where was I?"

   Wendy, taking me literally as usual, tried to help me out, but managed
only to say, "Mmph glmp brf!" through the gag.  However, she helpfully
wiggled her butt as a visual aid, and I told her I understood.

   Although my erection had dissipated during the phone conversation, it
took only a moment of looking at Wendy's butt and squeezing a tit or two to
restore things to normal.  Another moment and my cock was sliding up her
ass and then quickly retracing its path.

   Urged on by Wendy's words, "Brg glrp mffp", I pushed into her harder and
faster.  Urged on even more by the delightful sight of her gorgeous,
perfectly rounded ass, I slammed still harder.  And, finally, urged on by
that lovely ass pushing back against me, I pounded her as hard as I could
and shot of load of my seed into her bowels, as her moans of pleasure and
tensing body indicated that Wendy was climaxing at the same time.

   "Glrf mrg, drm," Wendy said in thanks as I slid my cock out of her ass,
my sperm dribbling down her leg.  I acknowledged her kind remarks with a
kiss as I unmanacled her hands and feet and took the gag out of her mouth.

   "That was nice," she said, flexing her jaw to loosen it.  "Do you want
to shit on my face now?"

   I turned her down again, with thanks.  She looked so disappointed that I
suggested that maybe we could do it some other time.

   Thus mollified, Wendy turned her minimal intelligence to another issue.
"Remember I told you I'd like to have a baby?"

   I remembered.

   "How about knocking me up, then?"

   I demurred again -- there being so many pregnant women in my various
lives at this point that I was having a hard time keeping them all
straight. I was curious, however, and asked Wendy why she was intent on
pregnancy.

   "I think it would be sexy to have a baby sucking on my tits," she
replied with a smile.  "Especially while I'm being fucked or something."

   There probably have been worse reasons for getting pregnant, so I let
this comment pass and again suggested that maybe I'd knock her up some
other day.  Wendy, always willing to accept just about anything, left with
a smile.

   Wendy had given me an idea.  Before I could act on it, however, I needed
to get home and see how things were going.  Since I was annoyed with Sarah,
and in a somewhat mischievous mood (okay, I was being plain nasty), I had
Reward make sure AAA couldn't fix the car and that Chuck (our mechanic) was
too busy to get to it until Monday.

   Hit with this news, Sarah was at her bitchiest when I got home.  Though
she had arranged for a ride with a friend, the fact that she had been
inconvenienced was sufficient cause to ruin everybody's dinner.

   Throughout the meal, we were treated to a steady stream of comments on
the general theme of "This wouldn't have happened if you had bought me a
decent car, instead of an old junker." I shuddered at the thought of how
Valley would react to this depiction of her pride and joy.

   Any parents of teenagers reading this will recognize it.  Though Sarah
was more self-centered than most, she was hardly unique.  And parents
generally learn to slough this sort of behavior off.  Chris on this
occasion did really well, putting up with it for a while, then finally
saying calmly, "Okay, Sarah, we get the point.  Now drop it." Sarah
subsided.

   Normally, I'm pretty good too (usually better than Chris) at ignoring
this kind of crap, but like I mentioned earlier, I was in a
mischievous/nasty mood, so I arranged to add to Sarah's load of woe.

   As dinner ended, in silence, the phone rang.  It was the girl who was
providing Sarah's ride -- she'd been grounded for the weekend.

   I savored the look of despair on Sarah's face as she set down the
receiver, then quickly picked it up again.  In quick succession she called
several friends, all of whom had already left for the game, or couldn't
provide a ride for some reason.  Her boyfriend, Jason, had, I knew, left
town for the weekend -- his soccer club had a tournament in Flagstaff. 
Sarah had been upset for weeks that he wouldn't miss the tournament to take
her to Homecoming -- she had difficulty understanding how anyone could have
a priority that was higher than doing what she wanted.

   "I can't get a ride," she wailed finally, having exhausted her last
possibility, and seeing the clock tick ever closer to kickoff time.

   "Did you try Ashley?" I asked innocently.  "I'm sure she'd give you a
ride."

   She didn't answer, just shot me a look that singed my eyebrows.

   I shrugged.  "Well, as I said earlier, I could take you there -- I'd
think I'd like to see a game, and Thomas might enjoy it."

   Again I had fun watching Sarah's face as the horror of her situation
struck her.  Which is worse, I could see her asking herself, missing the
game or being taken there by my father?  It was a tough choice, but she
finally, grudgingly, consented to allow me to take her.

   I was a bit surprised -- I had expected her to decide that death would
be worse than going with me.  And I really had no desire to go to the game,
since I was already there, as Tom O'Malley accompanying Ashley.  I had
separated myself on a few other occasions, but this would be the first time
that Tom O'Malley and Tom Mallory would be at the same place.  I wondered
what I would say to myself if we met?

   Sarah of course ditched Thomas and me as soon as we got to the game. 
She met up with some friends near the entrance, announced that she was
going to sit with them, and left us behind, which was pretty much what I
had expected.  I chose a seat a discreet few rows away from her, then
noticed that I was also a few rows (the other direction) from Tom O'Malley
and Ashley.  Ashley saw Thomas and me sit down and smiled and waved at us.
Thankfully, she didn't bring her date over to introduce him.

   I've been telling you this part of the story from my point of view as
Tom Mallory, but Tom O'Malley had also had an interesting evening.

   A few days before, Ashley had finally told her parents about her
relationship with Tom (not everything about it, of course, but probably
they guessed at least some of what she omitted).  Though they did little to
hide their disapproval, she persisted in declaring her love, patiently and
calmly, and eventually they had to accept the fait accompli.  Tom had met
them for the first time this evening when he had picked up Ashley for
dinner before the game.  Though the meeting was stiff, her parents had been
reassured to see that he was pleasant and polite and had warmed
sufficiently to smile and wave pleasantly as the couple left.

   Ashley was luxuriating in the joy of no longer needing to hide anything,
and also in the pleasure of showing off her boyfriend at a school event --
she had noted the number of eyes on them as they climbed the stairs of the
stands hand-in-hand.

   I had found that being two people at once was not something I
particularly enjoyed.  Although I had learned to control two bodies (ands
once three bodies) with the same brain (basically just turning over the
functions to Reward), I found that the sensory overload was sometimes a bit
disconcerting, so I did it only occasionally.  Now, though, it was
interesting to be Tom O'Malley with Ashley, and to be Tom Mallory watching
Tom O'Malley with Ashley.

   Tom O'Malley was having a good time, but Tom Mallory, after I got tired
of watching Tom O'Malley, was bored.

   I enjoy sports, and I'm not the kind of sports fan who requires lots of
scoring, as long as there's lots of action.  This game, however, consisted
of two very modestly talented teams, both of which featured totally
predictable, vanilla offenses, and defenses that concentrated on avoiding
mistakes rather than creating opportunities.  Boring, boring, boring. 
Although the score was close, my reaction to the tightness of the score was
less seat-of-the-pants, what-will-happen-next tension, than a fear that the
game might end in a tie and go into overtime.

   So, at halftime, I was more than ready to get up and walk around, find a
parent or two I knew, and chat.  Anything for a break from the game.  At
about the same time, although as Tom Mallory I didn't witness it, Ashley
got up to visit the ladies room, leaving Tom O'Malley alone briefly --
which was exactly the break Sarah had been waiting for.

   I had wondered why Sarah was so anxious to come to the game that she
even consented to accompany her father.  Now I knew -- she saw it as an
opportunity to have another shot at Tom O'Malley.

   She pretended to have just seen me and waved, calling out my name, then
wandered casually over.  I greeted her coolly.

   "Uh-oh," she said, "I can tell by your voice that Ashley's been telling
you what a rat I am."

   In spite of myself, I grinned.  "Something like that."

   She grinned too.  "Some of it true, no doubt.  Want to hear my side of
it?"

   "Now?"

   "No, she'll be back in a minute -- give me a call, or let's meet
somewhere."

   "Why?" I asked -- knowing perfectly well that the idea was to meet me
somewhere where she had no doubt that her abundant charms could get me in
the sack in short order.  (And she might have been right).

   "What do you mean?"

   "I don't care about your side of the story, Sarah.  You've tried to
two-time your friend, and you're trying again.  Forget it -- I'm not
interested."

   The look of shock on her face was priceless.  It was changing to cold
fury as she turned away from me.  I should have left it alone, but I
couldn't resist twisting the knife.

   "Sarah?" I called to her.  She turned back.

   "I always think we should acknowledge people's better qualities," I
began.  She looked at me quizzically, with a trace of hope lighting on her
face.  "I want you to know that you're a really good piece of ass."

   "You son of a bitch," she hissed, turning and stomping away.

   Of course, I felt very satisfied and self-righteous about my little
victory.  But also of course, I knew that that sort of victory usually has
repercussions.  I was right.

   At the moment, though, I didn't have the opportunity to think beyond the
satisfaction of the moment.  The game was resuming, and Tom Mallory was
preparing to be bored silly again.

   But not for long.  The thought hit me, as the first few plays of the
second half showed no more imagination than before, that there was no
reason for a guy who had Reward to ever be bored.  That idea struck me
simultaneously with the realization that I had an opportunity to do
something that just about every male in America has at least occasionally
fantasized about.

   Breathes there a man with a soul so dead, who never to himself hath
said, "Wouldn't it be cool if the cheerleaders weren't wearing panties? 
Especially the second one on the right."

   Actually, most cheerleaders don't wearing panties, I guess -- usually
it's the bottom of a bodysuit -- but that's a detail of little interest to
a guy who has just watched a nubile little babe do the splits in mid-air,
touching her toes with her outstretched hands.

   Which is the position the second cheerleader from the right was in when
I realized that Reward could fulfill that long-held fantasy -- which he
promptly did.  As the cheerleaders did their next routine, which Reward
ensured was one that involved much jumping, the audience gasped as a
collection of attractive young pussies were revealed (I had considered
enjoying my fantasy alone, but decided to let everyone in on it).

   The men, for the most part, cheered lustily, a surprisingly large number
of the women seemed more amused than upset, either laughing or at least
giggling.  Only a few people, mostly school officials or parents of the
cheerleaders, seemed really outraged, and those I put under Reward's
control.  Actually, I realized then that I had to control everybody to some
extent -- even if they were amused by the stunt, still I had to stop them
from thinking there was anything strange about it.

   Two thoughts struck me as I watched the cheerleaders go through their
routines.  One was that the scene reminded me of a National Lampoon cover
from the seventies, which had featured a rear view of a similar situation.
The other was that it was interesting to note that the second one on the
right, a prototypical cheerleader -- a little perky blonde -- had a
completely shaved pussy.

   Since she was the one who had most attracted my attention in the first
place, I had Reward improve my vision to telescope quality so that I could
inspect her with more acuity than was possible from the thirtieth row of
the stands.  This viewpoint being as enjoyable as I thought it might be, I
then had her do some more splits while Reward repositioned my viewing point
to being on the ground directly beneath her.

   She had a lovely little gash I noted as she spread her legs out to a
greater than 180 degree angle in mid-air, a position I froze her in
temporarily.  It was small and dark red, almost crimson, with very
prominent inner lips that protruded well beyond the outer lips.  From this
viewpoint it was apparent she was (big surprise) not virgin, and also that
she had a very nice-looking, pink, and puckered asshole.

   Briefly I checked out the other pussies on display -- although several
were quite nice, I decided that first impressions had been correct and the
second from the right was the best.

   Having reached that conclusion and allowing the cheerleaders to unfreeze
and return to earth with their legs together, I briefly turned my attention
back to the game, not certain what I'd do next (although I suspected that
something down the road might include little Second).

   My mind at this point being on football-related fantasies, it is perhaps
not surprising that I began giggling as the next play began.  Giggling not
being common at football games, the gentleman sitting next to me, whose
attention had heretofore been focussed exclusively on the cheerleaders,
tore himself away long enough to give me a questioning look.

   My mirth had been caused by seeing again something that has been the
cause of many ribald comments by sports fans over the years -- the rather
questionable position the quarterback takes, on most plays, vis-a-vis the
center.

   Once my giggles had died down, I gave Reward instructions on how the
next play was to unfold.  The team broke from the huddle, the center leaned
over the ball, raising his fat ass high, and the quarterback stepped up
behind him.  All as usual.  Then, however, the quarterback reached out,
pulled down the center's pants, then his own, and stuck his dick into the
center's ass.

   The crowd roared its approval as he thrust again and again into the big
center's asshole, burying his cock between the beefy asscheeks.  I'm not
(to the best of my knowledge) possessed of any gay tendencies, and I
therefore didn't find the sight erotic, but it was a lot of fun, and most
of the crowd seemed to agree with me.  Thomas was mystified, then asked,
"Dad, is he . . .  ?"

   Oops, I had forgotten all about Thomas.  I turned off his mind for a
moment, then let him see an ordinary football game unfolding in front of
him.

   That taken care of, I turned my attention back to the field.  The
referees, uncertain what to do, finally settled on a delay of game penalty
when the center, apparently enjoying himself, failed to hike the ball in
the required time.  As the two players continued coupling, the refs
consulted each other to consider whether to add a penalty for
unsportsmanlike conduct.

   I decided at that point to advance the cause of sportsmanship by having
the two teams fall in love with each other.  The center and quarterback
pulled apart and each of the eleven players on one team approached his
opposite number and they embraced in eleven passionate clutches, eventually
pulling their lovers to the ground and writhing in ecstasy.  The shoulder
pads and helmets got in the way for a few moments, but soon were discarded
and littered the field.  The fans urged on their heroes, and joined in the
chant the cheerleaders began: "Fuck 'em hard!  Fuck 'em hard!  RRReeeaaalll
hard!!!"

   As the players from the sidelines rushed out toward each other,
embracing passionately as they met in the middle of the field, I decided
that the homosexual aspect of the occasion was getting out of control and
needed some counterbalancing.  I therefore took over the bodies of all the
men in the stadium other than the players, and began fucking all the women
in the stadium.

   I mentioned earlier that engaging in sex as two or three people at once
had in the past resulted in sensory overload.  Can you imagine what it
would be like to engage in roughly fifteen hundred simultaneous sex acts?

   Probably not.  And I find it far beyond my writing abilities to describe
it.  All I can say is that Reward had to take strong action to prevent my
brain from exploding as the pleasure center took in all the messages from
my fifteen hundred cocks and three thousand eyes and fifteen thousand
fingers.

   It was marvelous (an understatement for all time).  I was fucking and
sucking hundreds of women, hundreds of others were sucking me.  I was
coupling with middle-aged women and teenagers, grandmothers and little
girls, teachers and cheerleaders.  I had in my hands tits that were big and
small, firm and saggy, and some that were nonexistent.  I was fucking
mouths, cunts, asses, and tits.  I considered fucking noses and ears, but
decided that some moderation must be maintained.

   I was boyfriends fucking girlfriends, brothers fucking sisters,
grandsons fucking grandmothers, teachers fucking students.  And every
possible variation thereof.  I was everybody fucking everybody.

   I was fucking Ashley as Tom O'Malley, Sarah as a stranger who had been
sitting in front of her, and the second cheerleader from the right as
myself.

   I've always felt that a woman (or girl) shaving her pussy is a good
indicator that she's into sex.  Once or twice I've been led astray on this,
but it's generally a pretty good rule of thumb, and it certainly worked out
this time.

   Second from the right turned out to be a five foot, ninety-five pound
bundle of fuck.  I had barely had Reward transport me down to the field to
materialize in front of her before she was on her knees with my cock in her
mouth.  Her pixyish face with the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge
of a small snub nose looked up at me as her mouth opened, her tongue
licking the head of my cock a couple times before wrapping itself around
the staff and pulling the whole thing inside her.  Her light green eyes
were shining with excitement and her blonde ponytail wiggling wildly as her
head bobbed back and forth.

   After a few moments of this delight she pulled my cock out, glistening
with her saliva, to smile up at me and ask, "Do you want to come in my
mouth, or would you rather fuck me?"

   "I'm going to come in your mouth now," I answered, "and then I'm going
to fuck you."

   ""Oooh, wow," she said with a giggle that wrinkled her cute little nose,
"a two-fer." Then she popped my cock back in her mouth and began
energetically sucking again.  It took only a few more seconds before I felt
my seed rising from the ministrations of her tongue, which was washing
around and around my cock with increasing speed and pressure.  I grabbed
her head, pulling her gently forward, saying, "I want you to take it all."

   My cock pushed down into her throat as she did as she was told, taking
all of it, her face pressed tight against me as my cock pulsed and shot my
sperm down her throat and into her belly.  She coughed slightly on the
second shot, so I pulled away, shooting the rest of my load onto her face.

   The sensation was a good one for me, but almost too intense -- I was
having by now constant ejaculations, usually a dozen or so at any given
moment.  I had to tell Reward to cut my brain off from the other scenes I
had going on, so I could concentrate for the moment on Second.

   "Cool," she was saying as she used her tongue to scoop up a thread of
goo dangling off her nose.  "I've seen the babes in porn movies get a load
on their faces, but I've never had it before."

   "Like it?" I asked.

   "It's different," she said thoughtfully, scooping another fingerfull off
her cheek and dripping it onto her outstretched tongue.  "Kinda messy,
though."

   When she had cleaned most of the remnants of the past from her face, she
turned to the future.  "You said you'd fuck me?" She phrased it as a
question, obviously not certain I'd come through for her.

   "A promise is a promise," I replied.

   She cocked her head to one side as she lay back on the thick grass near
the sideline, pulling up her skirt and spreading her legs to reveal the
lovely little pussy I had so admired earlier.  "How 'bout you eat me
first?" she asked with a leering smile.  "I really love having my pussy
sucked."

   "Is that why you shave it?" I asked, settling between her legs
preparatory to fulfilling her request.

   "Yeah," she answered, sighing as my fingers opened her pussy and I
peered deep into her.  "Guys are a lot more likely to eat you if there's no
hair in the way."

   I silently saluted her wisdom in knowing what she wanted and how to go
about getting it, though I wondered if there were many males who would
refuse to eat this little piece of snatch if they had to go through the
Amazon to get at it.

   She had sighed when I touched her, and I could see as I looked that she
was already thoroughly wet, with a large clit poking forth aggressively. 
She must like giving head, I thought, to be this turned on.

   But if I thought she was hot or wet then, I was quickly to learn new
definitions for the terms.  I spent a few seconds renewing my visual
acquaintance with her cunt -- it looked every bit as good from this angle
-- but then the girl began whining impatiently at me, rubbing her clit to
let me know what she wanted done.

   I got the message and pulled aside her hand to give myself access.  The
instant my tongue touched her, just brushing her big inner lips, she
immediately stiffened, taking in a deep breath with a loud hiss.  When my
tongue lapped against the entrance to her vagina, she moaned deeply, with
the pitch rising as I pushed inside.

   As my tongue entered her hole, it was met by a veritable flood of
moisture, and the girl's hips began fucking forward against my face.  "Oh
god, that's good," she moaned.

   Her strong, musty scent filled my nostrils.  Besides her abundant
juices, it was a warm night and she'd been working hard through the first
half.  I loved the smell and I rubbed my nose against her clit, drawing a
gasp from her.  The nose-rubbing reminded me that I hadn't even dealt with
her clit yet, but it was apparent that this girl didn't need any clitoral
stimulation to come -- she was already right on the edge.

   I drove my tongue deep into her fuckhole once more and she strained her
hips upward hard, grunting with the effort to push herself over the edge. I
ran it in and out twice more and shoved a finger into her ass, and that was
all she needed.  She shuddered hard and stiffened as her hands clamped down
on my head and another gush of moisture spilled out and she screamed her
lust.

   She was so orgasmic that I decided to see how high I could drive her. 
As her hips continued to buck I switched from her vagina to her clit,
licking around it, then sucking it into my mouth and rubbing the full
length of my tongue across its head.  She screamed again, louder and wilder
than before, and with each swipe of my tongue she went a little crazier. 
At last I realized that she seemed to have no limits at all, and I released
her clit, letting her slowly settle back down.  After a long period of
being rigid as a board, her body gradually relaxed and she collapsed into
the grass.

   "God damn, I wish my boyfriend could suck me like that," she said after
a long silence, during which she stared, apparently unseeing, into the
night sky.

   "I could offer to give him lessons," I laughed, "but he might not take
kindly to the idea."

   "I don't think he's in much position to complain," she replied, looking
out at the field.  "He's giving some guy a blowjob right now, and it looks
like he's enjoying it."

   "He's on the team?" I asked stupidly.  Of course he was.  "You might
lose him to a new lover."

   She shrugged.  "There's more where he came from." She pointed him out.
"He's over there, number 82, the tight end."

   I couldn't resist; it was too good a straight line.  "Speaking of tight
ends," I said, "how's yours?"

   She looked blankly at me for just a second, not knowing what I meant. 
Then the light dawned.  "You want to buttfuck me?" she said, hesitating
just another second, then added, "Hell, why not?  Time to try something
new." She turned around, and knelt on her hands and knees, flipping her
skirt up and offering her ass to me.

   I gave the ass a little slap.  It was a nice one, each globe small but
nicely rounded and totally firm, without an ounce of loose flesh, merging
into a deep cleft, in the center of which was a tiny pink pucker.

   But I pulled her over on her side, then on her back.  "I like girls
spread wide open, showing me everything they've got," I told her.

   She grinned up at me.  "Nothing like a dirty old man," she laughed.  She
lifted her hips and pulled apart her ass cheeks, again revealing the little
pucker, now pulled slightly open.  "Is this the way you like it?" she
asked.

   "That's almost it," I said, pulling up her light sweater and then
pulling down the cups of her bra to reveal two small rounded breasts with
pink areolas the size of a dime, tipped with microscopic but very erect
nipples.  I cursed myself now that I hadn't paid attention to these lovely
things earlier, but now I squeezed both in my hands, then sucked one into
my mouth, teasing the nipple with my flickering tongue.

   She sighed happily, pressing her breast up harder against my mouth.  I
was enjoying it too, but I really wanted my cock in her ass.

   I kissed down her flat, hard belly to her lovely cunt.  From any angle,
from any distance, it was a gem.  This time though I just gave it a
perfunctory kiss and a nip at her clit, then moved on south.

   I kissed her little anus, but before I could stick my tongue in it, she
reached down again to pull her asscheeks apart and open the hole for me. 
It wasn't gaping, but it was open just enough to get my tongue in, and the
girl mewled with pleasure as I touched the tender membrane within.  "Cool,"
she said, "this is so dirty."

   I quit licking her long enough to look up at her smiling face, so small
and innocent.  "You like it dirty?"

   "The dirtier the better," she answered.  "I wish somebody had thought of
buttfucking me a long time ago."

   "No need to wait any longer then," I answered.  No need at all -- she
was rather wet from the drippings of her fountain-like pussy, and I had
Reward add more.

   "Then let's do it," she said with a giggle, spreading her legs and
pulling apart her cheeks even further as I knelt over her.  "Stick it in
me."

   I stuck it in her, though initially just a millimeter or so of the head.
Wet though she was, she was also a very small girl, and very tight.  I
urged her to relax and pushed forward just a little more.  As she felt my
cock entering, she gradually relaxed further, until the head was completely
in.  The rest was relatively easy, since the path was cleared, and second
from the right smiled up as the last of me entered her.

   "How do you like it?" I asked.

   "It's great!" she answered.  "I'll bet hardly anybody else in the school
has done this." She considered.  "It feels good, kind of funny, but good.
Do you mind going slow at first, then speed up?" she asked.

   "No problem," I answered.  "That was exactly my plan."

   A plan I commenced to put into operation, with a long, slow pullout,
followed by an equally slow reentry.  Then a repeat, and another, each just
slightly faster.  She sighed contentedly, and on the fifth or sixth stroke
began moving her hips in response, signaling that I could begin speeding up
a bit more.

   I rose up to look down on the little beauty, speared in the ass and
spread out before me.  She was gorgeous, with a tiny but perfectly
proportioned body, her beautifully pixyish face, and her lovely legs raised
into the sky as my cock slid into her ass.

   I decided to complete the picture by having Reward open her pussy wide
for me.  An invisible pair of hands pulled open her pussy lips, revealing
the richly red interior of the girl, glistening in her juices, the walls of
her vagina pulsing as my cock drove into her ass.

   I decided that if I could have invisible hands add to my pleasure, I
could do something for her as well, so I added an invisible tongue stroking
her clit.  Already erect, it grew as the tongue pushed it from side to
side, then stroked across it.

   "Oh god," she panted, "what are you doing to me?  What are you doing? 
Omygod." She began caressing her small breasts, then squeezing and pulling
on the tiny pink nipples, as her head tossed from side to side and she kept
muttering, "Omygod, omygod."

   Her hips drove harder back at my cock, and I pushed into her harder and
faster.  This invisible stuff is fun, I decided, and added an invisible
cock fucking her cunt.  I saw her vagina widen as the organ entered her,
and saw her face light up in shock.  For a moment there was a look almost
of fear, as she realized that there were things happening to her that made
no sense.  Then the sensations washing through her body drove any other
thoughts from her mind.  Who cared how it was happening, she seemed to say,
just as long as it kept happening.

   I could see the tissue of her vagina move in and out as the cock drove
into her again and again, I saw a stream of juices flowing out of her, and
I saw her clit grow as the tongue dragged across it.  Meanwhile my
(visible) dick was stroking steadily into her ass, and her hips pushed up
with ever-greater passion as she neared another climax.

   I was nearing mine as well, and reluctantly gave up my voyeurism as my
need for release forced me to lower my body into the saddle between her
upraised legs.  I settled in and hugged her to me as my cock drove hard
into her ass.  "Omygod," she continued shouting, "omygod, it's so good!"

   I drove into her again and felt her stiffen with her orgasm as my cock
began to rumble, then I shot a huge wad of semen into her bowels, then
another, then still more before my body relaxed and second from the right
and I collapsed.

   I lay atop her for a few moments, then kissed her and rolled off onto
the cool grass of the field.  Second still lying quiet, I looked up into
the stands where thousands of people continued their wild rutting.  I had
Reward reconnect me with them, but the feeling of having the sensations of
over a thousand cocks feeding into my brain was too much to take for more
than a moment.  Truly a case study on the virtues of moderation.

   I got up, returned to the stands, and had everyone return to normal. 
Boring as the game was, after that interlude I could take it for another
half-hour or so.

   "Well, honey," I asked Sarah as we drove home, "did you enjoy the game?"

   "It sucked."

   I was tempted to answer that it did indeed suck -- several hundred
times, but forbore to comment.  "How about you, Thomas?"

   There was a far-away look in my son's eyes.  It took him a moment to
respond, then he merely said, "Uh, yeah, it was interesting."

   

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