Father’s Day

Golden lipstick leaves a lustrous fleck along the otherwise blue vein as Mariah’s lips coat another inch of my rock-hard meat.  Her neck bulges around the amount of manhood that her throat already conceals. Her radiant hair dangles off the giant fourteen foot-wide bed in which two children have been conceived and curls around my toes.  As she savors the head, I compare her baby blue berets and her long blonde hair.  She wraps her long skinny arms around my ass and pulls me deeper into her throat. As her mouth covers the thirteen bronze inches that lead to a thatch of coarse black pubic hairs, I knead her creamy 22-year old breasts.  The flash of orange that is Mariah’s skirt inverting itself covers my field of view as she performs a maneuver of physical magnificence.  Using only her arms and my body for leverage, she completes a mid-air handstand, her nipples press into the dimples delineating my abs from my lovin’ muscles, her stomach flattens on my heaving chest, her long legs encircle my head. I reach to pull aside a yellow thong when I see I won’t need to. Two yellow threads spread wide mere millimeters before my Mariah’s clitoris to accommodate a fat vagina.  Mariah’s overstuffed quim pushes two pink pussy lips out as a present to me. Over a lollipop smack I hear Mariah call back “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy” and think about how the shape of Mariah’s vagina is the only aesthetic effect I’ve ever really had on her.
***
	Angela Ritchey’s husband Bobby shoved his rigid pecker into her cervix once again. His biceps bulged and his forearms throbbed. She felt the muscles that connected to his gigantic mitts twitch in her hands as she rode him.  Angela groaned as she felt tension build in her belly. Angela drifted away to thoughts of masturbating alone. Bobby had a series of away games coming up and she’d have plenty of time to have real orgasms in the peace of Mariah’s school days and Bobby’s game days.  
Baseball and birthright had given him everything, from his brutish body, to their bayside villa. Growing up in Fayetteville, Bobby did two things well. He filled out a uniform and, when holding a bat, or other phallic object, he could direct a thrown object to any location he saw fit. Eight years ago, Bobby Ritchey and Angela Munter met at a party following the end of their junior high careers. Angela came under fire from three successive ice cubes before the fourth finally landed right between the cleavage her 30C bra was pushing together. Angela threw aside the rolled up dollar bill she’d been snorting Ritalin with and turned to chew out her assailant, when she saw Bobby wielding not a handful of ice, but an erect 15-inch cock like a novelty version of the bats he was already locally famous for swinging on dirt diamonds in Tennessee. There was a sudden coldness.  Angela, in her eagerness to investigate, had let the ice cube melt in between her bra.  
Everyone had a laugh. Angela remembered becoming flushed and running to the bathroom. Her nipples had gotten hard from the ice cube and the Ritalin and she was tired of being stared at, especially by Bobby and his imperious glance. In the bathroom, she took her shirt and bra off (just for a second damn it, to let her growing breasts relax for a while) and took to padding the front of it, to hide her incredibly aroused state.  Without any pretense, Bobby opened the door, all smug grins and 15-inch boners in athletic shorts.
	Angela doesn’t have any regrets. She doesn’t regret taking her bra off, even just for a second. She doesn’t regret getting so pissed off at Bobby that, when she knew it was it was his first time, she took all his agency out of the experience. Sure enough, before Bobby Ritchey could even make a smart remark, Angela had shucked his shorts and his dick had shot up to flick her in her cut-off-covered twat. A second later, Angela threw Bobby on the hard tile floor and was right on top of him in the next. She knew it would hurt when he entered her, but she thought it was best to rip off the band-aid that was her hymen as quickly as possible. In hindsight, she would have been perturbed that that one piercing thrust little Angela Munter brought down on big Bobby Ritchey ripped through two thresholds inside her. At that moment, however, all she knew was “some pain was to be expected,” and to hesitate was to lose the initiative and let Bobby in the driver’s seat. So Angela raised her 48-inch around ass in the air and brought it down hard, and fought through the pain.  Bobby entered her womb again, and again. Realizing that Angela was taking care of the fucking, he began to play with the largest, real, live, naked boobs he had ever seen. Angela leaned forward and whenever her unattended nipples didn’t go immediately to Bobby’s mouth, Angela smacked him and yelled “suck these tits, fucker! These are the best tits you’re ever going to get your hands on, enjoy them!”   She leaned forward again, and with a grin, Bobby eagerly began sucking on Angela’s nipple.  In short order she wasn’t stroking up and down on his cock, but grinding into his groin, as they experienced their first orgasms together. The insides of Angela’s fallopian tubes were dripping with his sperm. 
It wasn’t one month before Angela’s breasts began to swell beyond explicable sizes. In four months her hips had spread to fifty-four inches around and her belly had a beautiful bump. Nine months after Bobby dick-flipped an ice cube between her tits, Mariah was born. 
	Angela didn’t regret raping Bobby when she did because he always thought of her as bigger than him, or at least more commanding than him. He had 150 pounds on her now. But she kept four inches on him, even today, eight years later.  Bobby’s self image was tied to his cock, not his professional baseball career, and not his spectacular body. Mariah had widened Angela’s shores so that even as Bobby thickened out to the size of Angela’s wrist, his boat could pass unharassed. So even though Bobby was bulky, Angela had grown up with him. She was tall, at 6’5 with 32E breasts and 52 inches at the hips. She kept in shape with free weights and heavy bags which her long arms showed in each toned muscle group. However, the ultimate emasculation, the true proof of his devotion to her, came whenever she had him eat her out, not just with his tongue mind you, but by sucking off her swollen clit. Bobby had asked for blowjobs before and she’d consented to give him one on the road, before an away game, or on a birthday, but this was a total role reversal for him. While he may not be able to understand that his dick was failing to fill her after eight years of trying to communicate exactly that, he could understand exactly how to suck and stroke her long, sensitive clit. 
She knew what kind of sex this was and it made her think of little Mariah.  Bobby was aiming to shove his dick into her womb again. “Guaranteed conception,” he claimed. Each thrust was like a knocker clanging on the door until finally he managed the exact angle would allow his dick to slip into the whole Mariah had opened wide on her way out. It would be over soon now. She’d jack Bobby off with the sleeve of her cervix and he’d pay his dues to her orgasm.  She rubbed her nipple and centered her thoughts on the grazing motions along her lonely walls. She’d tell Bobby what a big man he was.  Twelve inches would wiggle back and forth in the gap between her cervix and her labia, and she thanked God, or Buddha, or Krishna, that he was at least as thick as her wrist.  Bobby walked a tight rope between being a masochist and just being fucking stupid, or stupid about fucking, but he wasn’t a complete shitheel. He at least had the decency to jack his wife off.  So, as Bobby’s rough palm encircled her clitoris and began to stroke up and down along it’s slick two-inches, Bobby buried himself into hilt and plastered Angela’s womb with spunk.
***
	Farhan loved California. He loved the breeze that was always coming off the bay. He loved the sun that raged against the temperature it couldn’t seem to change. He loved the dry air that reminded him of a home that had become inhospitable to him.  He was learning to love the ocean that fed him and gave him enough income for the house in a neighborhood with a short commute to work and the linen suits for whenever he was in the city.  More immediately, however, he loved California because she had swallowed all thirteen inches of his dick.  He pushed her nose into his pubic hair while holding her pink and blonde hair between his sun-tanned fingers.   Her hands moved from his pale, hairy ass to his dark back, which was corded with muscles made from weeks off Baja, Alaska, or Oregon.  Cali earned a reprieve as Farhan extracted his dick from her mouth, ruining any notion that they were just looking at dresses as three heavy drops of saliva landed on the wood floor in successive “THHWAPS.”  
	“Farhan deems he will have you against the door.” said Farhan, and handed California a camcorder with all the self-assurance afforded someone who had just shoved thirteen inches of 2-liter-thick cock down his partner’s throat.  California’s nipples hardened through the $250 screen-printed face of Audrey Hepburn as her back was pressed against the cold slate door of the changing room. The American Princess’ neck became stooped and wrinkled as California hiked up her dress and wrapped her legs around Farhan’s bare Egyptian ass.  Her arms encircled his neck and pointed the camcorder at the arrangement of three mirrors.  The autofocus revealed Farhan’s bronze skin giving way to her compartively alabaster limbs. He was using one arm to maneuver his fist-sized head into her glistening lips, so she rested her chin on his other shoulder. Whoever saw this tape would know they had rehearsed this operation several times.  All things considered, her reaction to his first full thrust was authentic. The camcorder didn’t show Farhan’s third fist slide just beneath California’s cervix and wail into the wall of her fornix, and it didn’t show his thick shaft bend up into g-spot as he forced her pussy to accommodate his full length, however it did capture a look of surprise when she didn’t feel pain emanating from her cervix, and the moan and glossy rapture induced that can only come from multiple orgasms and thick cock folding over in your insides.  The withdrawl was even noisier.  In addition to the air compacted inside California’s already over-stuffed beaver, she had been steadily filling it up with personal wetness. As Farhan pulled two inches of slick penis out, a loud SHHLIIIRRP filled the boutique so that no one could doubt what was going on. “Clearly,” Farhan thought, “either California or myself must come out wearing a dress which zippers from ass to neck.”  The thought of women in tight dresses, either with big bulky zippers or made of translucent stocking-like material hardened his cock to brain-draining levels. Cali obviously felt his “renewed vigor.”  Her red lips came close to his ears and she whispered, “Now you can really fuck me you terrorist bastard.”
	Farhan drilled a turgid 13 inches into California soil.  He withdrew until the top of his huge head had stretched her pussy lips around the full width of it and left her clit pointing directly at his shaft. Her button rubbed against the length of his cock as he entered her again. His thrusts became violent enough that Cali’s back lost it’s friction-fortified hold on the door.  Her feet got most of her weight, but her cervix got a good portion of the hit too. This elicited different responses from the two fevered rutters. California felt like she’d fallen on the balance beam in gymnastics again, only this time, she managed to take the whole thing inside her, and to stifle a scream that would have surely have brought the whole boutique into the changing area if she hadn’t bit hard on Farhan’s shoulder. Farhan appreciated the added pressure on his shaft. It now felt like he had a pair of rollers on the top of his prick. He also noticed, with the awareness of someone who is transcending levels of perception like they’re playing Super Mario Bros. on a time attack, that his back had started to perspire. He practically had a new river running between his shoulder blades. 
	Farhan thought of an English expression he had learned, “teaching by rod and by carrot.” He had certainly punished California for her comment long enough. It was time for her carrot.  He wrapped her legs around his waist again and pulled her rear away from the door. Instead of crushing her smallish breasts against his chest with each thrust, he had room to play, to attend, and so he did, with great vigor, as though he had a mind to create an audition tape for the title of Epic Lover of the Century.  
	Farhan’s wiry, muscular hands roamed California’s hills and glens. He went to work along the crest of Cali’s hip bone and while rubbing his thumb along the length of her clitoris. With every thrust, his palm applied pressure to her pelvis, tightening Cali’s pussy at the exact instant he was thrusting the thickest part of himself into her.  Farhan’s other hand was everywhere else. On her breasts, her nipples, in her butthole for a little added stimulation, but he never worked to shut her up. Call him shameless, but Farhan was unafraid of being found out.  Cali was well beyond caring. Her head was lolling to the side and her mouth was agape in a permanent moan of invocables and semi-coherent curses.  Every now and then she directed the camera away from the triple-mirror arrangement to the mess between her legs. When Farhan saw her do this he would remove his hand from her clitoris momentarily so his crowning achievement could be seen: a row of tiny pearls framed by thick, bulging veins.  His final thrust was also caught on tape, mostly because California was filming herself soaking Farhan’s groin in another orgasm. He pulled his cock out of California, the woman, and his first cumshot pasted her gaping lips shut. Cali reached between her legs and began fingering herself feverishly, while Farhan shoved her onto her knees and his heavy mushroom into her mouth. For a change of perspective, Farhan took the reigns on the camera. He captured two minutes of footage exclusively of Cali desperately trying to empty the six pendulous inches of ball sac she was massaging with her free fingers. When the twitches began to subside, he  plucked his purple head from her red lips and shot his last five shots across her face. A pearl of come remained on his dick head and she was eager to lick it clean.  Farhan switched the camera off and set it down. He pulled Cali close to him and kissed her lips gently. Then he held her face in one of his strong hands, and picked the longest string of cum, and ran the tip of his tongue along the whole length of it, tasting and savoring it before swallowing it. It tasted like almonds, though slightly sweeter. He ate the remaining four white streams of her face, and kissed Cali deeply, savoring his scent on her lips. His cock dangled between them, dripping onto the wood floor.
When they finally separated, Farhan dressed and shoved his semihard cock back in his linen trousers. California began to undress. “Just wear it out,” Farhan said, and removed the tag. He emptied the camcorder of it’s illicit substance and left California to finish dressing. The owner quickly busied herself with papers to shuffle, giving Farhan time to confirm what he had suspected for three weeks now.  The owner was the woman he wanted. Her breasts swelled well beyond either side of her rib cage. Her hips were wide, easily two feet across, and though she had a ring on her finger and they had had a lengthy discussion about her giving birth at 15 to her daughter, and she obviously had another on the way, Farhan suspected she had at least three more in her.  Most importantly, she was tall. Well over six feet, with golden hair and silver eyes, she’d be a stark contrast to Farhan’s earthen tones and low to the ground 5’7,” but Farhan was tired of having to worry about poking his partners in the cervix when he was having sex with them, and this goddess, with her sad face, looked like she was tired of her husband. So Farhan quickly scrawled his home phone number on the back of the price tag, bought the dress, made small talk with the goddess, and “accidentally’ left his tape on the counter with a smirk. 
Tonight, he would take California to an expensive dinner and let her pay.  She was an empowered 21st century woman and had a fancy enough downtown job to pay for her meal and his unfinished plate (as well as the dress he had just bought her). They would argue in the car and he would offer to compensate her for it, but the argument would be fine break up material. 
***
	“So that’s when you…ur… fell in love with me?” I ask, three toes wiggling deep in Angela’s vagina while my big toe and witching toe slide up and down her clit. Her feet, which are covered in that preposterously expensive lotion she claims will keep them soft and callous-free, are held together by the muscles of her fantastic legs. Between the soles of her feet is my fat, floppy cock and all thirteen inches of are being stroked up and down rhythmically, because she didn’t get to the gym today and what better way to do cardio than jerking off her husband with her legs.  “It wasn’t the tape… uhn… specifically, or the… oh…30 minutes of screams and moans you got out of that girl in the changing room.  You made it feel like I was dating when you were just hanging around in the store. You could always make me laugh when you were in the store, even if I was stressed out, or if I had just finished puking in the bathroom.”  
On the television screen, I watch blood that I thought was sweat trickle down my back from eight months ago.  As my ass clenches with each successive thrust and my ballsac, which was hanging half a foot from the base of cock, reach up slap California in the butt, the blood California drew from my shoulder rolls down my back, along my ass crack, and begins to paint rivulets along the back side of my balls, only to be flung in all directions across the boutique. It’s our first Father’s Day together and even though we’ve been fucking all day, the foot job my new wife has been giving me begins to stiffen my fatness. “Ever since the first time I fucked him, Bobby never had any real confidence.”  
There’s a little wet slip as I pull my toes from the slit I’ve labored so dutifully to widen.  I bury my nose in her dripping pussy, thinking how if I’d been a less adept lover I’d be smelling my feet instead of her scent. Angela sighs “Oh Abe,” and I reminisce on how much the two of us have changed in these past eight months. Eight months ago, I was Farhan Bahgasa, a fisherman with a single boat and a different woman every month.  Today, I had four boats in different seas, a burgeoning mining operation in Utah, and Angela and I had been back from our honeymoon for five months.  I’ve inherited a seaside villa in Presidio, a fortune in stock options, and a fast car and a truck with way too much luxury to have a utility.  As I ran my hands over soft breasts that hadn’t felt a bra in thirty-two weeks, I thought of all the changes Angela had gone through. Most obviously, there was the last relic of the late Bobby Ritchey, the great dome that held the future Farhan Mahfouz. I pick her up, beautiful baby, belly, breasts and all, and place her back down on the couch. “You know, we should get you a donkey and a brown wig.” I said.  Angela was mostly entertained.
 “XXX Virgin Mother fantasy is next week baby. Tonight is ‘Fuck your horny pregnant wife with your 4-inch wide cock before I get hungry for bologna’ night.”  
	How could I refuse? Father’s Day was coming to a close and I resumed the work I had so devotedly undertaken eight months ago. Robert Ritchey had caused my love so much pain and the last of his and Angela’s children would cause her as little pain as possible. I began by hoisting Angela’s long, toned legs up onto my shoulders. My legs are together and the fist at the top of my dick is level with her slit. My arms support my weight on the couch on either side of her. 
“Spread it for me, Angie.”	
	In the time it takes me to utter the sentence, Angela has one hand spreading her labia and another grabbing what she could of the base of my cock.  Her long, slender fingers wrap almost two-thirds of the way around the twelve-and-a-half inch circumference of my corer. Just the piss hole enters into her lips and they try to push my head out. These angry pink guards will never learn they are over-stretched and helpless to exclude the brown invader. Only Angela’s clitoris rushes out to meet me, swollen almost three inches out, projecting past my head and coating it in film.
	I already know where her belly is and how deep my thrusts can go, but I start slow so her engorged clit can feel each of the pearls underneath my cockflesh. I feel her walls constrict, and don’t think for a moment that I’m undoing all my hard work because I didn’t hear Angela cry out in pain once whenever we had sex today and she’s looking into my eyes and telling me “it’s so good,” and “please never stop.”
	There’s another rush of lubrication, so I speed up until my head is allowed entry into in the depths of her vagina.  With almost nine months of baby in Angela’s womb, I can’t even approach full penetration but the pressure is intense. The repercussions from the muscles she uses keeping her legs and stomach stable in the interests of protecting our precious cargo apply jolts to what’s already a glass hard seal against my steely reamer. Were it not for the near constant gushing and precumming providing lubrication along the surface of my piston, it would take one simple misstep to take apart the complicated and noisy machine we had formed and shatter the stroker or the engine casing, or even the passenger.  We have many bells and whistles, this drilling rig. Angela, for instance, supports her heaving breasts with her painted hands as they move with my thrusts, rolling their whole masses around in opposing circles. What purpose could this serve, other than, perhaps, a mutually beneficial moral boosting device. 
	Her nipples jut out from perfectly manicured hands capped in sky blue finger-nails. Her skin offers no transition from the flawless cream of the bottom curve of her breast to the narrow top hour glass that hid her rib cage. Where her hips widen, my girth appears miniscule. Her clitoris arcs across two pearls as it gets hung up on a third. Her lips are opened wide, engulfing over 12 inches of thickness. Her insides fight for each inch, and an intense firefight assaults my groin. The precious lubrication we’re filling Angela’s contested territory with is often suddenly evacuated, either by a twitch of her vaginal muscles or one of my thrusts. Our battle comes to a fever pitch resulting in the final master thrust, wedging open her cervix through the gaping hole her babies had left when they were born, that I had been working to widen with every passionate love-making session these past eight months, now held a cockhead the size of an eggplant.  Angela and I roared out in victory as I filled her with stream after stream of spotting jizm.  Our mouths were open wide and our teeth were bared. The sweat from my nose dripped into Angela’s mouth. Spit from Angela’s feral roar blasted my face. For close to a minute I swelled in Angela, emptying my heavy bag and widening the passage through which my little spotted leopard, my adopted Farhan would be swimming out in under a week.
	Flaccid and dangling, I extracted myself to wet noises. There was my wet dick slapping my thigh.  There were the insides of Angela, coming together again. “ Come here, I want to taste me on you” she said There were wet smacks as she sucks the last streams of cum from my pisshole and gush from my head.  There was the sound of licking as we both turned to see Mariah, just barely nine years old, asking “What are you guys doing?”
***
	Farhan looked kind of like a girl. He had just seen “Boys have a Penis and Girls have a Vagina’ & Other Relics from your Youth that are going to Make a lot more Sense in 45 Minutes” in health class and so he was keenly aware of the very obvious distinction that marked him clearly as one of the guys or as a girl smuggling a gag shop find.  Apparently, Ms. Arianna Barbo, the girls’ Gym teacher in his middle school, was as well. As the health tape concluded, the boys and girls teachers switched rooms, so that kids could ask an informed adult of the opposite sex questions they were reluctant to ask their usual instructor. The second Ms. Barbo entered the room, she eyed the eleven inch tube in his pants. Keeping her composure, she asked simply “Are there any questions for me?”  
Farhan’s hand shot up over his sandy blond hair. “Yeah. I got one. Is it possible to be too long for a woman?” His hazel eyes were looking straight at Ms. Barbo’s round, track pant covered ass.
“It’s possible an inexperienced woman will find a large penis intimidating, yes, but a vagina that can pass a baby can accept a penis of any length.  The most important thing is to be careful and responsive.”
	Before she could ask if there were any other questions , Farhan’s hand was in the air again. “What about being too thick, miss Barbo?’ He held his hand up like a bracket instead of like an ‘o’ or a ‘c.’ “Is it possible to rip a girl open after she’s had her hymen torn?”  
	A few guys giggled in the back of the room, Miss Barbo stammered, ” well, only in extreme cases, similar to the one you’re describing, where partners are severely mismatched.”  Arianna could see she misspoke when she said “mismatched.”  For a short while, Arianna played with her black, shoulder-length hair Farhan stared at the floor for the next half hour, tuning out the room around him.
	By the sounding of the fire alarm, Farhan was mostly out of his funk. As they headed for the exit, Farhan saw Ms. Barbo talking to Mr. Campignol, the boys’ Gym teacher, and turn as she finished. She went straight for him and said “you’re sick, come with me.”   Farhan was still keen to ask more questions about the dangers of size in a more private setting, plus who wants to do another fire drill?  He was surprised to walk past the nurse’s office and into the empty French classroom. 
	Arianna turned around and sat on the corner of the desk.  She took off her shirt, revealing a sports bra that tightly bound her breasts to her chest. Farhan did the same revealing a narrow chest, just like his mother. Farhan was built very similarly to his mother, only with darker eyes and hair, which he had inherited from his father. 
Arianna pulled off her track pants, and underneath she wore a pair of short running shorts, revealing shapely tan legs. Abe’s words flashed in Farhan’s head from the conversation they had had two nights ago, which had made so much more sense in the light of Arianna’s wry smile.  You must be having her. Though she is certainly to enjoy it immensely, it is to come from you.  She must understand that if this pleasure can come from you, then so will all things.  First Allah’s will, then your will. then all the gift’s of the world.  This is the burden of being like you, like me, like your father, Bobby was.  With that in mind, Farhan shucked his shorts and boxers together in a pile, exposing eleven inches of fire hose-thick cudgel. Farhan may have been unfortunate to have inherited his mother’s feminine features, but he also inherited her perpetual thickness.  Pointing right at Arianna’s cotton-covered camel toe, he began rubbing his apple sized head on the line where the seam cleaved her cunt lips and making a sizable wet spot appear in her shorts.  She began to remove her bra. By the time she had extracted her C-cup breast from her binding sports bra, Farhan had worked up a froth through her shorts.  When she motioned to take them off, he said “No it’s hot, leave ‘em on,” and simply pulled her short leg to one side, revealing a neatly shaven bush in the form of a cannabis leaf.  Farhan smirked. Arianna said, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
	Farhan felt his head smashed as he entered Arianna. “This is my first time, if you hadn’t guessed.”  Arianna’s eyes were closed tight, “It’s okay Farhan, it feels like my first time again too. Keep going. It’s okay.”  Farhan pushed forward three inches and then another three, all the while feeling pushed out. The pressure on his head was incredible. He grabbed onto Arianna’s short clad ass, slipping one hand underneath the elastic to grab a hand full of ass with a fingertip of stinkeye. On his second stroke, Farhan attempted to enter the whole way, and Arianna shouted, “Ow, be careful. there are parts down there that are sensitive. Feel that?” A hard, round divit signaled the end of the line for Farhan’s most protrudant appendage. “Yeah, is that your bottom?”  
	“No, that’s my cervix. Pull out a little.”  There was a soft sound of wet flesh adjusting as Farhan withdrew. “ Now use the hand you have on my ass to keep my lower  half steady while using your free arm  to squish my boobs up against your chest.” Farhan did so, but said, “I don’t see what this has to do with my being able to penetrate deeper.”
“Just shove it in me now!” 
	Arianna was learning quickly that it was hard to stick close to the lesson plan when she was primarily focused on seeking gratification. However she was pleased to see that she was still communicating ideas with a flesh-and-blood rendition of a dildo that belonged at an S&M-slanted sex shop pistoning in and out of her. Her verification came when Farhan shoved his entire length, down to a sprawling saucer-sized root into her. Both Farhan and Arianna quaked as, instead of ramming a near-solid bottom, they felt the cored McIntosh slip into and begin expanding the fleshy tapering. Farhan lingered long enough to catch the breath her sudden tightness had squeezed out of him. He began humping to a tempo all his own, but was certainly more akin to Parliament Funkadelic than Marvin Gaye. With two hands, Arianna reached down and held one of Farhan’s swollen testicles in each hand. “ You’re… oh…penetrating intooo my fornix now OH FUCK!, It’s right below my cervix and you can fit as much of your… oh… oh of that glorious dick into my vagina, or another woman’s vagina, if you keep stretching…uh me out down there.”  Arianna used her fingers to divide his Cadburry egg-sized nuts and pulls them apart. Between his balls and all the vessels and tubing, Arianna’s hands were over-flowing.  The bell sounded and hall doors opened. The fire drill was over.
	Arianna drove her fingers upward, applying pressure to the hidden base of Farhan’s dick. She began massaging the very deepest part of Farhan’s dick in the opposite direction of his strokes into her. He thickened more than he thought he could, push a little squeak from Arianna’s lips. “Won’t the French teacher or a class be back now?” 
“No, she only has half-days on Fridays.” 
“So we only have to worry about you screaming out then huh?” 
“You could scream out!” and with that Arianna’s hooch tightened almost to the point of bursting Farhan’s dick at the veins. Farhan let out a “gah!” and began to work a tempo that generated a bubbling gym teacher brew and half notes of squish every other second. Arianna’s mouth gaped widely and Farhan feared she would cry out, so he planted his lips on hers. She let out a moan which soon became humming that filled his body with vibration. As Farhan considered the some total of stimulation he was experiencing, he felt a sudden hardness followed by twitches running up his spine and shaft. He thrust deep into Arianna and experienced his first conscious orgasm. He felt the contractions of Arianna’s uterus onto his penis.  The sperm that wasn’t sucked up into Arianna’s womb began leaking out onto the French teacher’s desk, giving it the appearance of a wax replica of a desk that had begun to melt under the heat of Farhan’s first frantic rutting.  Farhan experienced one last core-shaking orgasm in his belly as Arianna continued to massage his prostate, determined to extract every ounce of sperm from his deflated testicles. Farhan broke their lingering kiss by stepping back and extracting his still rigid penis from her flaccid vagina. The shorts which had once been merely discolored were now soiled with cum and vag-juice. 
	Arianna quickly laid down on the floor and began licking the cum of the metal leg of the desk as it ran down its side. She pulled her knees up to her naked breasts so her soiled shorts framed her now much-changed vagina.  
“You trying to get pregnant or something?” 
	Arianna paused to shake her head. “No, you can’t get pregnant from swallowing cum, silly man.”   Farhan could make out ever detail in her shorts.  The right side of her labia was much fatter than the left and bulged out at least half an inch from the skin surrounding her vagina. As Arianna rushed to meet every descending cumstream, he stroked his cock. He would find that some dangerous thoughts came into his head as he stroked this empowering object. He stood over her, a lingering pearl of cum at his tip, He ran two fingers along that fat bulge along the bottom of it and the pearl fell onto her silver dollar-sized nipple. “You want to go again baby,” Arianna asked, and Farhan only grunted.  Farhan shucked her shorts and gagged her with them as he squatted down. He reached underneath her legs and took hold of her breasts, which dwarfed his young, effeminate hands. His legs slipped beneath and around hers, so her knees were directly above his. With his right thumb, he traced the droplet of sperm around her nipple. He braced himself with both arms and entered her savagely. His head smashed off her cervix but he was undeterred.  He thrust again and again despite Arianna’s cries, reduced to “himns” by the short gag. He finally made headway as Arianna arched her back on an inward thrust. The tiny hole opened up. Farhan used her heavy breasts for leaverage. Her nipples hardened in his palms. He shortened his strokes, and for an instant, Arianna’s cervix had a reprieve from being widened like Farhan had the intent to go caving into her womb. Arianna came, as the ridge of Farhan’s head rubbed along her g-spot, and then the rubbing stopped.
	Farhan allowed himself to linger within Arianna’s juices only long enough to coat his cock.  Farhan withdrew and inserted his organ into Arianna’s ass. The resistance was intense, and he only felt a quarter inch disappear in time with Arianna’s breathing. Farhan applied pressure to the unyielding sphincter by making his post throb inside her. When Arianna took a sharp breath of cum-and-quim scented air, Farhan gained an inch of purchase into her warm hole. He squeezed her tits for another inch. The vice-grip of Arianna’s bung was incredible, the veins he knew he had bulged and new once announced themselves. The last inches were gained with an admittedly dirt move. Farhan got an inch from dipping his fingers into her honey pot, and the rest from shoving the metaphorical honey on his fingertips into her nostrils.  The deep breath she took around her shorts afterwards gave him all the purchase he needed.
	 The subsidence of her last orgasm shook her ass like a whip. However another one was gripping her as soon as he had fully entered her. He plunged three fingers into her pussy and greased up his shaft as he pulled out. He thrusted deep again, this time feeling enough give from the whip crack to built a solid rhythm. He lifted Arianna’s ass of the floor, pushing her knees to her shoulders. Arianna looked directly into his eyes as she came again. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her teeth were clenched tight on the gag, but she nodded that he should continue. Farhan knew now that anal sex was his kind of sex. 
	He was pleased to see it was Arianna’s as well. Syrup bubbled out of her pussy like Farhan had gone the backway to hitting the black gold. It was only a couple more strokes and Farhan felt the unmistakable tingle. He pulled out and spread her labia again. Three deep thrusts had his head wedged in her cervix while he orgasmed.  This time, her uterus began sucking the cream straight out of the churn.  Farhan buried himself deep until he’d been sucked dry. Afterwords, he rolled off to the side and laid down next to Arianna.  He took the gag out of her mouth and she lay her head on his skinny chest.  
“You know, you shouldn’t treat my like I’m dumb, Arianna,” Arianna gaped at Farhan, thinking it was her turn to admonish him, “I wasn’t talking about you licking up my cum when I asked if you were trying to get pregnant. I was talking about what you were doing with you legs. I just watched a sex ed video. You think I didn’t know you wouldn’t get pregnant off of swallowing cum?” 
“And how does that make you feel, Farhan? Me trying to have a kid, specifically your kid?”
“Well, Abe had a kid when he was 16. It made him grow up real quick.”
Arianna looked like she was searching for a second. “Abe’s your stepfather, right?” 
“Yeah, sort of. They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. I love him like my dad.”
“So you wouldn’t mind being a daddy?”
“Did you feel me come that second time? I came for, like, a minute straight into your womb.”
“You know baby’s eat food and children go to school, right? You’re too young to work, like, anywhere.”
Farhan considered this for a minute.  “So we’ll spend six years in Thailand, I’m a fourteen year old with a man’s cock. Don’t rich businessmen pay thousands of dollars for shit like that? C’mon Arianna, you can be my pimp.  We’ll travel through Thailand and China and Japan and broaden our horizons and then I’ll come back and be a travel agent. Hopefully they’ll still let you be a teacher.”
“You want to go for a hat trick?

***

	“Come on, daddy. Feed me, make me strong.”  Maria sucks hard on the fat head of my cock as she jacks my shaft off with both hands. “I want breakfast before we go to my mom’s house, daddy.”  I threw her on the bed “It’s Father’s Day,” I bellow, “and I ain’t cooking. I’m serving.”  Mariah sprawls across the bed as she lands, 6 feet tall, 180 pounds, with skinny arms, round hips and thick thighs that taper to skinny calves, and perky b-cup breasts topped with Hershey Kiss nipples. The golden hair that would normally fall between her shoulder blades adorns the area around her head like a halo, completing the appearance of a snow angel printed on a blue field. Her lips are surrounded by soft, puffy skin and underscored by two asscheeks that are nearly as large as her mother’s. I pull her long legs toward me and flip her over.  “On your knees, my love.”  I enter from beneath and behind. I cup her belly as I feel myself enter to the hilt. Her 23-inch waist visibly distorts to accommodate my girth. Maria leans her head back and turns her face to mine so we can lock lips while we do it slow. Her tongue enters my mouth and I think about the first time I told her about the health benefits of sperm.
	
	Maria put the lollipop back in her mouth. She was wearing the same green and yellow singlet and tights she’d worn to gymnastics Saturday. “Well honey,” Angela started, “you know, babies all come from somewhere. The thing is, it turns out that they really grow, like little Farhan has been doing in my belly—“
“I thought his name was going to be Abe,” 
“Well mommy changed her mind honey.”
“So what were you and Abe doing?”  Mariah was positively undeterred. 
“Well, babies like Farhan start growing after a man and a woman have sex. Daddy and I were having sex.”
“Are you trying to make another baby, Mommy? Don’t you want Daddy’s baby? And why are you changing his name? Daddy wanted him to be named Abe!”
“No, honey, come closer, sit by mommy.” Mariah sat to Angela’s left and laid her legs across Angela’s naked lap. I picked up her panties, as well as my boxer briefs, making sure my dick remained tucked away in one leg and my dangling balls were securely placed in the other.  I placed my ancient Nikon on the television, over the blue screen where an hour ago I had been fucking Califronia, and set the timer for sixty seconds. I helped Angela slip on her sky blue penguin-print panties before sitting to her right. “You see, since I’m pregnant with your father’s child, Daddy can’t get me pregnant.” The camera clicked.  “But we love each other, and whenever I’m ready to have another baby, he and I are going to have sex and make a sibling for you and Farhan. As far as your father goes, he left us, and he doesn’t have any say in what happens to his children.” I was surprised to hear Angela spit the last part out through the euphoria of post-coital endorphins and elation of one of the forging moments in this new family we were making. Mariah looked baffled.
“Why were you having sex then? Does it make the baby grow?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
	Angela and I answered simultaneously. Angela glared at me for a second. Her glare gave way to eyes that were permissively curious. “Mariah, whenever I orgasm inside of your mom, whenever you heard us yelling earlier, white stuff was coming out of my penis. That stuff will make Farhan strong. The same way the bond between your mother and I will make you and your brother strong. I am here to make sure that he grows into a strong boy, and eventually a strong, decisive man, and that you grow into a wise, willful woman. I’m also trying to make the birth as easy as possible for your mother, because childbirth is very painful and you should consider that before you ever decide to have a child.” By now, Angela had a smile on her face that was somewhere between reverence for a wise, old man, and the smile reserved for the crazy old folks who tell people not to drive on the same day they’ve seen a raven.

	I feel the recess created by my descending pillar leaving Mariah, and can’t believe how I’m consistently amazed by her ability to retain what should have created an absence in her young memory. I fill her up with a deep stroke towards the ceiling and she reaches down to rub my balls, as though they were a sac of tennis balls, with one hand. The other hand interlocks it’s fingers with mine at her belly and I feel the cold, silver, jewel-covered ring that covers all three joints of it’s ring finger. When I’ve plunged all thirteen inches into her, she’s rubbing my balls on her burgeoning button. When I’ve abandoned her warmth except as a tossel cap, she plunges a finger deep into my asshole. I admit that I’ve been more permissive with Mariah than with my other wife, but much of this has do with my raising her as my adopted daughter. I suppose, I sought to please her, and taught her to seek to please. What else could I expect?
	 I move our interlocked hands up to Mariah’s breast and her breath quickens as the cold metal touch her hot skin. We lean forward onto the bed and we’re suddenly in the same position we were in almost four years ago, the night I had given her the ring. On our honeymoon, in a private car in British Columbia bound for Alaska, she was eighteen and I was thirty-seven. I didn’t split her hymen on our honeymoon. Her first boyfriend did that when she was 15.  It wasn’t our first time together though, so we weren’t concerned about having sex face-to-face. Instead, with Mariah bent over the armrest and her g-spot pressing down on the pearls implanted in the bottom of my cock, we focused on bringing her to orgasm after orgasm as we alternatively watched the Canadian coastline and the Pacific Ocean blur past out the window. Today the closest thing at hand is a stack of books, and I wedge them under Mariah before a deep stroke. The sudden tightness is welcome, but a sense of relativity is created when Mariah’s spine straightens and she yells out “HO-AH!”  
	I brush my fingers lightly along her flanks and see goosebumps appear in her flesh. As I speed up my thrusting, her uterus spasms and juice floods the tightening canal.
I piston into her thick snatch recklessly, knowing that I’ll never bottom out inside her. I probe her plush, yielding, gripping tunnel, discovering that Mariah can make sounds I had never heard before, slipping from high-pitched scream, to a fathomable moan, to a bellow reserved for dying woolly mammoths. I think about all the noise Mariah’s making and the joy polygyny has brought us. Last night, our children slept at Angela’s allowing  Mariah and I to really get into this epic fuckdown without having to worry about explaining to four-year-old Oliver that Daddy really isn’t hurting Mommy, or worry about waking little Jean.   Tonight, my brother Hamida will drive Mariah, Mariah’s children, and Angela’s children back to Mariah’s home so Angela and I may venerate Father’s Day as we usually do.  Mariah coats my cock in the cum from her twelfth orgasm, and, considering the holiday, I decided to indulge myself in a rare pleasure. 
	I pull out and keep Mariah spread out with my thumb and forefinger.  With my other hand, I feed every testicle, one by one, (rest assured, I went through puberty with two testicles. It only occurred to me later to get three more, synthetics. A story for another day.) into her pussy, and I push my pussy-juice lubed cockhead into her asshole. “Go ahead, baby,” I say, and Mariah begins flexing the muscles just beneath her vaginal walls, pulling my golf ball-sized nuts deeper and deeper into her, and inevitably skewering her asshole on my cock. The fluctuating pressure creates a heat that encompasses the entire sex organ, radiating into my belly and lungs. I lean my head back and bury my swollen boner into her sweet-smelling ass again and again.  I wonder if it turns Mariah on that this is how I was fucking her mother right before her father discovered us, the same afternoon we broke him in his house where we’d soon be celebrating Father’s Day.   When it’s finally too much, I pull my balls from Mariah’s vagina and they’re followed by a torrent of gush. In order to nestle my cockhead next to her spasming uterus, I have to fight a tidal wave. By the time I’m three inches in, I’m cumming all over her insides. When I’m buried deep inside her, we’ve both exhausted ourselves. I manage a few more humps that are no more than twitches and Mariah meets them with a weak swivel of the hips. I can see she’s already nodding off, and I can feel sleep coming for me too.  To be honest, even if it’s laying in a two-foot-wide puddle, its blissful slumber. 
***
	Hamida was happy his hands weren’t covered in fish all day. In Metra, they had been covered in fish. In the office block gallery outside Japantown, his hands didn’t even have to smell like tempura paint. All he had to do was keep telling this woman how the painting he was trying to sell her wasn’t about loss of identity in a secular world without getting another erection and chasing her away. He thought about burying his mother, and how Abe had made it so there was always enough money that he could fish for leisure and paint as a career. But, before he could put a leash on his thoughts, he was thinking about how people grow up slowly and then all at once, and then SHAZAM! another pitch down the tube. Hamida was eager to put an end to the week and be home with his family, and simply let the pictures sell themselves.  He grabbed his keys, slipped off his green panty hose in the elevator, and headed out to the parking garage where his little red and white Fiat Spider was waiting. 
	With the top down, Hamida’s raven-black hair made his head look like a brown, round-faced and sharp chinned comet with a long tail winding down the interstate towards the Bay Bridge toll booth. The wind pulled his hair the whole way over the trunk. As he passed a semi, it’s airhorn blared. Hamida raised a slender hand in acknowledgement. He’d become accustomed to garnering reactions from people with his four feet of shiny black hair, his absurd DD tits that had been enhanced with regular estrogen and anti-androgen injections.  Once his breasts grew, his hips widened until, as his doctor had put it, he became “certifiably fuckable.“
	Hamida had skirted protocol on his acquisition of his sex reassignment process, certainly. Much of that had to with his doctor’s incredibly unprofessional relationship with him.  As Hamida pulled to a stop at the toll booth, the semi-man pulled up along side him, ogling his supple cans and bouncing up and down in his seat with an arm in his lap, it appeared. Hamida grabbed the hem of his brown and yellow fractal-print sundress and pulled it up slowly. Maintaining eye contact with the semi-man, he pulled the dress the whole way up into his lap. The truck driver nodded his head, hoping (s)he would spread the legs that belonged to the body he coveted so much.  Hamida shot a quick glance into his lap and saw only a neatly trimmed patch of black hairs. Confident the glamour had been maintained this long, he reestablished eye contact and put one yellow ballet slippered foot on the seat, smacking the stick shift of the Fiat with a foot-and a half of thick dick. Satisfied with the reaction that he’d coerced out of the semi-man, he pulled into the EZ-Pass lane and sped off towards the house where his brother and his second wife waited for a ride.
***
	Bobby wouldn’t be back in their house for three more days but Angela needed someone to talk to about the fact that she had just seen a fucking plus sign on this stick she had pissed on. Farhan was nice. He could make her laugh and she needed that now. They had had three great conversations but he left that tape to accompany the number and the live music he and that bubble gum bitch had made at her store. She had been so horny these passed few weeks, and that tape hadn’t helped. She went through a whole bottle of Id, and she’d have to find a bigger hiding place now that she had a porno tape and a beaded dildo to hide.  She couldn’t call him. He’d made his intentions clear, and in such a ballsy way. The way Farhan had talked about Hami, it sounded like he was really trying to take care of his younger brother. She wanted him to take care of her.  Calling him was initiating an affair, indubitably. She wasn’t even kidding herself anymore. She’d been supercharged for weeks now, and all Farhan needed to say was three good sentences and she’d grind on him until his erection burst through his pants. 
	Angela began to entertain other options.  She could call the other player’s wives, but the nature of the relationship invited gossip, between the wives and eventually the players and then finally Bobby. She thought of other friends she could talk to and she realized just how few she had. Bobby hadn’t been possessive, so much as a master of the guilt trip. Once they’d moved out to San Fran, he’d undermined any friendships she attempted to create with the neighbors or other people from around the town. He’d make derisive comments about “what was really going on” between her and her new friends, how they were secretly manipulating her, either to get to him or simply to have a laugh at her expense.  She simply couldn’t bring new people into their home without Bobby issuing a string of underhanded comments that hastened their departure.  Angela came to the conclusion that if Bobby didn’t care about her feelings, she didn’t really care about his.  It took Farhan thirty minutes to get from Millbrae to her house in Presidio. In the meantime, Angela searched her home for every picture with Bobby in it and stripped it from its frame and deposited them in a box. 
	Standing at her door, Farhan was considerably shorter, and the noon sun shone of his bald head and right into her face.  When she stopped whincing and her eyes adjusted, she saw he was making shadow puppets with the glare. She laughed, but it was a sad, pitiful laugh, and the big grin of white teeth in his bronze face faded quick.  “Aw, Angie. what’s the matter hun?”
Angela managed to get her +1 announcement out, but as soon as Farhan congratulated her, she lost her composure. “No, it ain’t,” she yelled, throwing the box of unframed pictures on the floor, “you think I want that asshole to raise another child of mine? He has such a crippled ego that all he can do is harp on the failings of others.  I don’t want Mariah hearing another second of that, let alone giving him the chance to indoctrinate another kid into those delusions of hatred!”  
	Farhan was clearly taken aback. “well, you’ve obviously put a lot of thought into what’s going on between you and Bobby.”
“No, I think it was more of an epiphany, or maybe just repressed emotions mixing with horomones.” Farhan’s brown eyes locked with hers for several seconds. Angela felt more naked in those long seconds than she had been with Bobby in eight-and-a-half years.  
“I think you are simply an angry girl who wants to hurt her husband.”
	Angela lunged at him, eager to establish dominance over Bobby’s chosen successor.  She made headway when she tore of a worn waffle shirt, revealing a thickly corded back and well formed chest and abs, criss-crossed with scars and scabs from fish hooks and barbs of spears. While Farhan’s famous white linen pants remain unscathed, Angela couldn’t help but notice the blackness that stirred in their depths. He made a play of it, running upstairs and checking out the house as he was chased. “Ah, I see you have a big yard, this is good. I’ll expect you to have at least four more children and you only have three bedrooms. We’ll need the room to expand.”  Then he began to search the guest room. “This would be a good room for twins, Angela,” he yelled, “I think I will fill you with twins after you have your baby.” There was silence.  Angela had ceased her pursuit. He searched Mariah’s room, the patio, and the bathroom upstairs before heading downstairs. To prolong her waiting, he searched the kitchen, the dining room, the family room, and the green room before finally conceding to enter the master bedroom. 
	“So you gonna fuck me or not?”

	Farhan’s cum oozed out of Angela and onto her orange and black trim bed sheets. 
Farhan’s legs remained interlocked with hers, and every now and then, he dipped his erection into her pussy. He rubbed the boy and girl cum mixture up and down his shaft in six slow strokes before dipping into Angela’s well again. Despite his withdrawals, a sizeable discoloration had been growing in the bed Bobby and Angela would no longer share.
“so…”
“So.”
“I was serious. I don’t want that man raising my children anymore.”
“Well that’s good, because this is just a taste to get you hooked. I won’t foster an affair with a married woman.”  Farhan looked directly into Angela’s silver eyes as he spoke. She looked wounded. “Don’t worry, it just means we have to start hatching a plan now.” 
	That night, Angela called a Samoan lawyer Farhan had met at mosque and asked him to call Bobby’s cell phone in three days.  The apparently harmless lawyer would remind Bobby that he hadn’t set up a last will and trust. Two days later, Farhan and Angela had filed away everything in her house that belonged to Bobby and put it in boxes. The last of it, a bat autographed by Hank Aaron, was placed on the table.  
	It wasn’t Farhan’s idea, per se, to recreate the first sexual position he and Angela fucked in on the kitchen table using Bobby’s favorite baseball heirloom as a sexual aid. It was integral to the plan that they crush his spirits and this was the first of several assaults they planned to mount on that front.  Bobby called saying his plane had landed. “That’s great, Bob. See you soon. Buy bread.”
	Angela put the phone back on the carrier. “He’ll be home in forty minutes, we’d better get started. I want you to shoot on his pants.”  Farhan hadn’t worn more than a towel in the past three days.  Mariah had been home in the evenings, and they’d explained, as well as you could to an eight year old, that Bobby was on his way out and Farhan would be moving in. She seemed keen on the idea; like they were trading models and maybe they’d be able to swap Farhan for David Beckham or Elvis in the future.  Now, with Mariah in school, he roamed the house naked. Part of the reason Angela had boxed up all of Bobby’s things was because, at least on some level, Farhan couldn’t resist playing the part of the alpha dog, wiping his dick, or simply laying its heavy limpness on one or another of his possessions.
	Farhan gave a single shake of his fat cock and Angela dutifully began fellating him to arousal. The act was difficult at first, as Angela wasn’t an expert cocksucker. Fitting an entire fist in her mouth was logistically difficult, but she had seen the dye job do it, so she was determined. She started by using simply her lips, covering the head in saliva until it was shiny.  Her tongue slipped into his pisshole time and again.  What Angela had found unthinkable and Bobby thought unspeakable was embraced in the burgeoning relationship Farhan and Angela had forged on three dates. Once he was aroused, she couldn’t open her jaw enough to accomodate his blood-filled penis. Farhan grabbed Angela beneath the ears and said “The angriest he can get is to attack, in which case, we have a bat. Who are we to anticipate the will of Allah?”  Angela immediately relaxed, her jaw slacked and Farhan took the initiative. Pulling her head forward, he slipped into her mouth then down into her throat. Farhan was pleased to find that this came naturally for the relaxed Angela.  She deepthroated him using a bobbing motion created by her entire body.  His palms were like sandpaper and they ground her hyper-sensitive nipples as his fingers squished into her huge breasts. He picked one heavy E cup tit and brushed his fingers along the underside and her hairs stood up on end. She pushed up again and felt the ridge of his cockhead delve deep into her throat, until she was breathing in his jasmine scent.  She thought how she couldn’t wait to get this kid out her so Farhan could knock her up with the next one. She fisted her clitoris while she strangled herself on his thickness, in anticipation of having to fit it in her vagina that was in such dire need of stretching. 
	After orgasm and oxygen-deprivation caused Angela to see spots, she stood up quickly, gasping for breath. Saliva dripped from her mouth and pooled on the table as she leaned on it, discovering she’d shot up faster than she should have.  Her back rose up and down, keeping time against the rhythmic rise and fall of her round ass.  Farhan rubbed her back as her breathing returned to normal.  “You ready for the main event?”  
One arm squeezed her incredible tits together as she reached down and spread her lips apart.  He shoved one ball, and then the other, into her tight hole. Angela grabbed the bat and put her clit right on top of the thick part. “Hank Aaron” is hidden in her pubic hair. She laid both hands across the handle, which jutted suggestively from the crack in her cleavage. Farhan slipped his third fist (first fist) into Angela’s virgin sphincter and sank deep into her. 
	Angela opened her eyes wide. The motion of his hugeness along every corner of her ass set her nerves on fire. The new man who was her equal, with a business he had made rather than a gift he had profited off of. The gifts he used so aptly, withdrawing from her ass and descending inside her pussy, filling her with sensation. Surely, Farhan would raise her children with love, if he could be this considerate of a lover. Her nipples slipped on the kitchen table, lubricated by her own spit. Farhan gave her three short, deep strokes.  The membrane that separated the deep parts of her rectum from her ballbag was suddenly pinched between a pair of pearls and one of Farhan’s nuts.  Her subsequent orgasms were so intense that Angela spent five minutes senseless.
	There was a change in posture, which Farhan welcomed. While Angela was laid on the table and experiencing rolling orgasms emanating from her asshole and her pussy, her skin began to tingle. From head to toe, she felt like cats, tongues and claws, were assaulting her all over her body. Her ears filled with a high-pitched din. She adjusted her posture by resting on the palms at the end of her fully extended hands.  They experienced difficulties in their genitalian arrangement when Farhan simply couldn’t keep his balls inside Angela. At first, he wiped her lubrication away from his sac and used it to slicken his shaft.  After two more attempts at shoving his nuts into Angela’s pussy, once while using four of his fingers to assist in the process, he came to a realization. Angela was now widened out and lubed up enough for the main event. 
“We’d better change position, Angela. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“ Oh just stick it in. Bobby will be home soon and I want to see his face.”
	Farhan’s face became stony and his tone solemn. “As you wish.”  Now it was rod time. Farhan slowly pulled out of Angela’s butthole. The 4-inch hole he left would have been quick to shut him out, but he held it open with his left hand. Farhan fumbled around with his right hand and found a glass that Angela had drunk a beer out of. He remembered the tightness of her sphincter, and didn’t dare sink the glass the hole way in, but instead left two inches between the round muscle and the rim of the glass.  Angela’s house let out a piercing “Hooooo!” as Farhan forced Angela to make room for him as well as the glass. He entered swiftly, but was elated to find that his pubic bone had crushed her ass cheeks into her hips before his cockhead touched her cervix. He began humping into her wide hips heedlessly, holding onto her heaving breasts with fully extended arms. “Yes, yes! You take it all! Thank you, you wonderful woman, for coming into my life.”  Farhan had both his knees on the table as he bored out Angela’s leaking pussy.  
“Oh, Oh. Keep going, Farhan. Don’t stop!”
“In you I find an equal, one who is a match for me on all fronts.”
Farhan slowed his thrusts as Angela tightened up. He felt an orgasm coming on, and as it gripped him, he withdrew and ejaculated into the pint glass. 
“I really meant keep fucking me!”
	Aside from the cup of creamy sperm it had thrown up into the glass in Angela’s ass, Farhan’s erection was unphased. He honored Angela’s request, content that if he couldn’t punish her during sex, he could punish her by withholding sex. He took special care to rub his pearls along Angela’s g-spot, hoping to create as huge a mess as possible for Bobby’s return.  The table was already slick with Angela’s fluids. Farhan’s sperm was sloshing out of the glass and onto her back and the floor with each fucking motion. Farhan knew what was most important was adorning Bobby’s bride with as many gifts as possible before he returned, to make his spell complete. The pearls were just one. He had brought her in on a wave of orgasms that would leave her on the deserted beach of the man that was Bobby
	Farhan was buried deep when he came in.  His feet were actually up on the table now to improve his penetration. He grunted with each thrust. Foot-long ropes of cum covered Angela’s back. She had her legs and arms spread out, and considering her already much bigger frame, if she hadn’t been moaning loudly, it would have looked like she was fucking a chimp.
	Bobby stood there, watching them rut like animals, until Angela addressed him directly. “Hey Bobby. Unh, I’m pregnant again. Oh…We’ve only been…unh… doing this for three days…uh… since I found out, really.  I don’t want you to raise another one of… OH!  my kids… so you’re out. Farhan’s in. He’s so in.” Bobby rushed Farhan then and as he jumped on the table Farhan jumped off. He pulled the glass out of Angela’s sphincter and the sudden feeling of emptiness caused a gushing orgasm that drenched Bobby’s back.
“You never made me come like that, did you?” Angela asked.
	Bobby turned around, glaring at her for an instant. There was a whistling in the air, and his eyes fixed on a blur of motion. His autographed bat was coming straight for his nose.

	Bobby coughed as he regained consciousness. He couldn’t breath clearly for all the blood in his mouth and his nose was swelled shut. There was a consistent ringing in his ears. The red dress shirt he’d been wearing was covered in blood and something that smelled vaguely like almond milk. He opened his eyes and his wife was blowing the dark man she had introduced to him as Farhan.  Her eyes were closed. Farhan was looking right at him.  As they made eye contact, he stroked Angela’s hair once and pulled his dick from her throat. The fat, lecherous thing actually lurched once as it began shooting cum. 
	Bobby was appalled to find it aimed at him. He was slumped three feet away and he still came under fire from seven streams of jizm. They were warm and he could feel their heat on his face, in his hair, even on his chest, through his shirt. As an afterthought, it upset him to think that Angela felt left out of the cumbath. Bobby watched Angela satiate herself on the white piece of snot that dangled off Farhan’s helmet. She seemed glad to resume blowing him. 
	As Farhan began to thicken once more, Bobby learned why. Pulling a Navel orange-sized cockhead from his wife’s mouth, Farhan stroked his cock slowly in front of Bobby and asked, “Would you like to get in on this? It’s pretty lubed up now. I’m sure it’ll slide right in.”  Bobby’s face betrayed a fear he hadn’t felt in years.  Before he could form a rejection beyond “N-n-n-n,” 
	Angela presented the other half of the offer. In her hand she held the pint glass that Farhan and she had filled with their frothy love juices while Bobby had been unconscious. “If you’re scared, all you have to do is drink the nectar of your inadequacy.”  
	
	That night, after Bobby drank the evidence of his wife’s disdain, he spent the rest of the afternoon puking. Following a particularly spiteful bout, he received a call from a lawyer who “understood that his last will and trust was woefully out of date.”  He made an appointment to see him the next day and made sure to leave every thing he owned to his son Abe Ritchey in the event he died.   The second Bobby left the office, the Samoan lawyer called Farhan to notify him about the arrangement. 
***

	I began the naturalization process the next day. On my green card, it said Abraham Ritchey.  I changed it to Abraham Mahfouz when we got married.  After two weeks of hearing Angela yell “Oh Farhan. Yes, Farhan” while we fucked in the bed he thought was his, Bobby killed himself. He hanged himself out in the back yard where Mariah or anyone could see. When Angela buried his body, no one from Tennessee came out to help.  Immediately after the funeral, we went to the bank and sat down with my friend from the mosque. As executor of Bobby’s estate, he was the last person to look at the document before they went into record. What it says on it is that grantor Bobby Ritchey bequeathed a house, two cars, and 5.6 million dollar trust to trustee Abe Ritchey.  
Oppulence
“Well, it looks like my older brother has a decent excuse for being late.”
	My dick was still deep inside Mariah. I was still in the after glow of six orgasms without anything but orange juice and fruit salad.  The new erection that swelled inside my second wife was one maintained by blood that simply couldn’t leave my penis for my overstuffed bladder.  My genius younger brother stood across the bed, over ten feet away. His perfect legs were spread, and his pink prick dangled four inches beneath the hem of his dress. 
“Now are you two going to get it together or am I going to have to get physical.”
“You’re not that hungry, are you baby?”
“As long as I get to eat.”
	At that, Hamida let his dress fall of his hips. After six years, I’m still amazed to see the work that the hormones had done.  What had been an act of mercy on my mother’s part, not erasing a common genetic occurrence, ended up being preternatural foresight once I had acquired enough money to help everyone in my growing family. My brother was born a hermaphrodite. I only refer to him as my brother because of the size of his penis.  Jutting out from a cock-crunching pink slit, hangs a dangling foot-and-a-half long cock that’s as thick as a banana. 
	When we grew up together, Hami had been a young boy with an angel’s face. Puberty took him while I was setting up in San Fransisco.  The first thing I did when I was settled here was send for him. By the time he’d arrived, I’d found him an ethically-flexible doctor, an apartment where his neighbor’s wouldn’t mind or pay attention that Hami was now Hamida, and space in a gallery, all under my brother’s orders. In the three years I’d been gone, my twelve-year-old brother had grown a sizeable cock, despite the fact that his testicles never forced his labia to descend. As his doctor began administering his injections, his pert breasts blossomed into the huge tan tits with chocolate nipples that pointed to the ceiling above the bed where Mariah and I lay.  His hips were broad, as broad as Angela’s. 
	I felt a swell which was different from my typical swellings. Mariah couldn’t feel this one. It was one of pride. My brother had developed a layman’s understanding of hormonal therapy that was so effective he was able to make himself into the ideal sexual object.  I’d gone to the beach with my brother.  Mariah, Angela, my brother and myself had gone to the club together. Even though we inevitably went home together, it was almost always Hamida who would rebuke the first attempt at a pick-up. If we were in the mood for an orgy, then Hamida was a necessary guest.  At the last block party, he helped loosen the whole group up considerably. In the face of undeniable manhood growing from such a paramount of femininity, an out-and-out orgy, or an Egyptian man with two  white wives who are mother and daughter seems almost common place. Ah ho, I am a master of misdirection. 
	My tiny brother crawled onto the bed, his oily black hair dragging behind him. His red lips closed over Mariah’s golden ones.  As they kissed deep, I began to slowly slide my piss-hardened erection back and forth inside Mariah. The first few thrusts with Mariah and Angela must always be tentative after falling asleep inside them after an extended sex romp.  Our fluids had sealed us together, and a few of my dark hairs remained attached to her thighs despite my caution.  Hami broke the kiss and straightened up. He rested the first floppy inches of his uncircumcised pink penis on his sister-in-law’s face. “Soup’s on, Mariah.” 
	Hamida spoke in a bubbly voice like a pop star that takes the time to think about what she wants to say. Mariah seemed elated. She pinched Hamida’s shaft four inches back and ran her tongue along the inside of his sheath.  As she cleaned out the brie that stuffed the space between his foreskin and head, Hamida got a boner.  As she was accustomed to swallowing my twelve-inches circumference, his 11/2-inch thick cock easily slipped down her throat, until his labia brushed up against her nose.   We established an alternating rhythm after that, as I would penetrate into Mariah’s pussy, Hamida would withdraw from her throat. When he would bury his head in her stomach, I would withdraw, almost to the point of falling out.  With only my perineum holding her labia open, I would thrust back into her, and the cycle would begin again. 
	We made squishy sounds come out of both ends of Mariah. Hamida hunched forward for leverage, his giant boobs pendulously swaying above her taut belly.  Mariah groped his tits, pushing off them every time she lurched forward to swallow his cock. Admittedly, I was a little jealous. Hamida leaned back to fire a few solid strokes down Mariah’s throat, and I made my move. My monster cock penetrated deep into Mariah as I wrapped my arms around Hamida. I took his saucer-sized nipple into mouth and sucked voraciously. My thrusts into Mariah were slow and deep, always grinding my foremost pearl into her clitoris.  I slipped a finger into Hamida’s vagina and began to massage his prostate. I guided his mouth-fucking. Every stroke down Mariah’s throat was at my command.  I feasted on Hami’s nipples. As I ran the tip of my tongue over each one, I tasted a slight citrus flavoring, mixed with lavender.  It overpowered the stench of dirty mouths that filled the air. Rank saliva coated the inside of Mariah’s vag, every inch of Hamida’s cock and my own, and Mariah’s nipples, but Hamida’s body was a sacrosanct work of art, impervious to corruption. 
Now it was time for the big damn cum shot. 
“Ready to get dirty baby?”
“Yeah. Mess me up, Abe.”
	For the eighth time today, I removed my dick from my bride. This time, it was quickly, and as I pumped my shaft, I squirted shot after shot onto her body. Hamida took his cock out of her mouth and crawled over to kneel alongside me. Hamida pumped his cocked and clear, whitish fluid spilled onto Mariah’s waist, rolling off like water. Hamida turned and looked and me, and when I looked at him he kissed me hard on the lips. My eyes swung shut. My hands were in his black hair and my lips were pushing against his in instant. “Oh, man, that’s so hot!”
	I cracked an eye and saw Hamida had done the same. Mariah was watching us kiss.”
“Here, lemme take care of those cocks. You boys keep sucking face”
	Mariah crawled across the distance between her head and her feet and took our cocks in her hands. I took Hamida’s tongue in my mouth and sucked on it. Meanwhile, Mariah beat the seeping cum out of our cocks into real, vital cumshots, and began plastering her face with them. Finally, with both our cocks empty, I broke the kiss and carried my bride off to my favorite shower.
“Come on little brother, help us clean up.”
	I turned the taps my cousin had fashioned himself from the gold and silver mined at our hole in Utah. In between the taps, and directly opposite of them, were two sets of ten water jets. Cold water trickled out of the jets and began flowing out of the two giant showerheads in the ceiling. It looked like it was raining in the green and white-tiled hexagon, until steam began to rise as the “rain” defiantly heated up. I pushed aside the gold-and-glass French doors and sat Mariah on the white marble stool that was in the middle of the shower.  The doors swung shut behind Hamida and the three of us weren’t quite a tight fit yet. Hamida switched the jets on, at home in any of my houses, and we were blasted by warm water. Mariah took a hold of each of our depleted members and gobbled our heads into her mouth. I was slightly shocked, this was new to me, and saw it was new to Hamida as well.  She pushed her tongue along the crack between our two thick heads, and managed to swallow. My head was pulled into Mariah’s throat with a powerful suction. I could still feel Hamida’s head rubbing against my shaft and my wife attended to him with her tongue. She bobbed her head up and down and continued swallowing, which brought steel into my cock quickly. As much as she could, she administered to my brother. Gulp after gulp pulled him deep into her throat, his flesh-ribbed head sliding along the valley formed by the shaft of my cock and the massive cum-tunnel that ran along it’s underbelly.  Hamida pumped the twelve exposed inches of his cock. Mariah absentmindedly played with my ball bag, but on the other hand, she was wrist deep in Hamida’s pussy. When he was finally erect, it was time for the main event.
	Mariah stood up. Seeing my bride, standing tall with water cascading all over her, is something that drunks on the streets of UC-Berkeley have likened to seeing a messenger of God. I wouldn’t do something like that.  However, I would go so far as to say that this distinctly American beauty could command a whole clutch of photographers if we were in public, and boyfriends if she saw fit, yet I had her to myself four nights a week. Her hair clung tightly to her chest and even followed the lay of her collarbone and traced her shoulders like a cuirass. Golden tendrils reached down to her breast, some of them encircling her tiny nipples.  Hamida’s dark hands stood out starkly as they ran all over my wife’s soft, rosy skin. They brushed over light waves of her belly, slipping into the dark hole of her navel. Finally, Hamida’s manicured fingers drifted downward, and taking one side in each hand, swung Mariah’s gates open wide.
	Mariah craned her long neck down and kissed me on the lips. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and mine into hers. As they twisted around inside our mouths, she grabbed my wrist and placed it on her ass. I massaged her thick, pliable orbs until Mariah was suddenly pushed forward. Hamida was entering her ass and simultaneously impaling her on my erection.  Mariah bit down on my tongue.  Blood began to flow into my mouth.  I grabbed Mariah’s chin and pulled down. I could already feel Hamida thrusting back and forth inside her rectum.  I attempted to make eye contact with Mariah, but it was ultimately impossible. She was somewhere else.  
	I clenched my ass cheeks and lurched forward, putting the 10 inches of girthy cock that Hamida’s initial thrust didn’t put into Mariah. My balls slapped Hamida in his cunt and I could feel his dick swell. He was taking long, slow thrusts, and burying all of his eighteen inches into her ass. I adjusted my fucking to coincide. When he was the whole way in, I’d bottom out as well, slapping him in the cunt, but I’d muster two more strokes in the mean time, pummeling his shaft. 
	 Mariah was in quiet bliss. She was obviously pleased. She moaned low, and lubricated steadily, but I was getting bored with her lack of participation in our raunchy sex act.  So I pulled my dick out of her vag and her legs around my waist.  Hamida’s beautiful hairless legs were plush with mine and my dick was pressing against his pussy lips.  With one hand I took a hold of the root of my cock and guided it to Mariah’s already occupied asshole. Before Hamida could withdraw, I was deep inside and my wife had let out a gut-wrenching howl. 
	By the time Mariah’s screams had ceased resounding off the tiles, I was eye-to-eye with a betrayed glare.  “How could you?” she began to say, and I got her off, as I sometimes do. “My love, this is my gift to you. You will be lucid for it, or you will always empty your bowels in one fell poop.”  
	And so it was that I withdrew from my wife’s sphincter and resumed our previous fucking posture.  Mariah grabbed a washcloth and began washing us off. The sensation was fantastic. Her motions, either bending to clean my calves, or reaching behind her to wash Hamida’s back, affected the tension in her nethers considerably. When it came time to wash Hamida’s chest, we switched holes.   I began to wonder whether Hamida would be as caring of a lover as I had taught Mariah to expect.
	Hamida’s round breasts were covered in soap by the time I sunk my cockhead into Mariah. By the time my pubes were touching her perfectly shaped butt, Mariah had even washed the underside of his tits and his belly. Hamida laid down on the marble stool, his erection standing perpendicular to the rest of him. His hair became a black puddle on the shower floor, Mariah sat down on top of his pink cock and her lips defiantly swallowed all of it but the last two inches. Mariah laid down on top of Hamida, their skin a sheer contrast, their mouths sealed in a wet kiss. The slimmer line of Mariah’s white leg intercepted the thick brown line of Hamida’s legs. Their brown and white bellies made an even plane that gave way to a brown mound and a plunging alabaster half moon. I get to fuck this.
	I walked behind, where Mariah’s legs were spread wide around Hamida’s big thrusting hips. I went slow, placing both hands on Mariah’s rib cage, then letting my third fist doing the pointing. Her sphincter wasn’t doing much sphincting, and I got my head in without much resistance. After that, I entered gingerly because I simply preferred to enjoy the feeling.  Hamida continued to fuck away and the motion was sensational. When I began to build up steam, we all began to moan. My balls wailed on my brother’s pussy lips.  Mariah arched her back and yelled, her ass became tight enough to push my pearls into the meat of my cock. My next thrust brought me over the edge, and I orgasmed deep in Mariah’s rectum.  I made a few more perfunctory strokes and my cum ran out of Mariah’s asshole.  It made it’s way towards her quaking vagina and began tracing a line down Hamida’s arcing erection. When the largest drop finally made it’s way to my brother’s pussy lips, I smeared the cum across my semi-hard head and shoved my cock into his gaping vagina. Hamida’s testicles, deep inside his vestigial labia, massaged my cock as I humped into him. The mechanics of my thrusting into my brother while he was thrusting into my wife was a little complicated, it’s true, but it quickly became a non-issue.  The stimulation of his prostate, his vagina and his cock, was proving too much for Hamida. He went rigid, and thrust all the way into Mariah. I continued fucking my brother with my reinvigorated erection. Deep inside my wife, Hamida must have really filled her up with his skim milk. As I continued to rail him with my thirteen inches, clear liquid poured down his shaft and coated my cock and the rim of his cunt. Hamida had an orgasm and more juice flowed from my wife’s box, as well as the considerable lubrication Hamida created in his own. Hamida arched his back and squeezed his ass cheeks, a tightness I rarely encountered gripped my cock. 
	Hamida began slowly humping Mariah. Even flaccid, he plunged the thick cord in and out of Mariah. He sucked greedily on her nipples, or licked her collarbone. A constant torrent of cum came out of her pussy. I slowed down a little, to give Hamida a chance to build up a strong erection.  I occupied myself with licking out Mariah’s asshole. Finally, when I could tell Mariah was close, I carefully thrust into Hamida, my pearls rubbing his walls, his balls crushing into my shaft.  I heard Mariah moan as she came and thrust deeply into Hamida so that he would do the same. Finally I was ready, and buried my thirteen inches into Hamida, pasting his insides with my thick cum.  The reaction was literally crushing. As Hamida’s balls emptied themselves yet again, the twitched together, squeezing my crank. I lurched deep into him, pumping quarts of cum into a hole where there was nowhere for it to go into. Hamida thrusted deep into Mariah, as far as he could go, and Mariah shot up. The wetness the fell out onto us was almost scalding. That Mariah had been worked up to such a fever pitch gave me great pride. She fell back into my arms, cooing quietly, “Happy father’s day, baby.”
	We finished showering together.  Mariah soaped my dick off and tongue-bathed Hamida’s clean.  His cock was extraordinarily sensitive and soaped irritated it.  Mariah and Hamida finished off by hosing their widely stretched pussies off under the jets of the shower.  I was hungry for one last fuck, but dinner would be equally satisfying. Togetherness, on this day of days, was a fine feeling. 
The Lion in his Den
	Mariah reapplied her golden lipstick in the mirror. Hamida rooted through her bag complaining about her lack of palette, until he found a shade of shiny purple lipstick. He left the room and slipped on the dress he’d eagerly shed an hour ago. As Mariah applied eye shadow, I came up behind her. I wrapped my arms around her and wedged my cock between the gap formed by the meeting of her legs and her cleft. I took the eye shadow from her hands, and they drifted down to my cock. With two hands, she encircled the manhood that jutted from her crotch and slowly stroked it, moving the flesh over the muscle. In the meantime, I applied her eye shadow. Her tempo quickened as the cock began to point towards the ceiling.  Mariah’s stroking evolved into a twisting motion. I took out a brush a combed her hair, 100 times on each side. She took the precum that leeked from the tip and began lubing it up with that.  Slow strokes and nails along the frenelum brought me to the edge.  Finally, it erupted, spraying on the mirror, on the sink, and on the wall.  Mariah turned around and kissed me once, lightly, on the cheek. She swung her closet open, rifling through a drawer and snagging a simple, black bra and black lacy boyshorts. She did a half-turn, and I knew right then I’d be ready to go again. I took my cock in my hand, but she stopped me with her voice. “No, Abe. You just look, besides we already did the thing. We always finish with that.”  
	She turned around again, and fished out a sleeveless white dress. It was ribbed and made of wool. She slipped it over her head and the turtleneck covered a quarter of her long throat.  When she finally shimmied the skirt the whole way down, it covered her thighs. I stood beside her, and grabbed a pair of white linen pants and a black dress shirt. 
“I reckon you two will come in the Cab with me,” I said to Hamida as I stepped out of the bathroom, “I’ll need you to bring Mariah and the kids back in the van after dinner.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Do you have any stockings Mariah?” 
“You’re a little short for my stockings. I have underwear.” Mariah retorted. Hamida looked bemused.
“Oh honey, I don’t think I’ll fit in your little panties.” 
“Well, Hami, I have boyshorts too. You could do your wrap around in those.”
	Mariah went back into the bathroom and grabbed another pair of boyshorts, yellow ones.  Hamida slid them on, and, picking his skirt up with one hand, ran the other around his hip.
“Everything squared away, then? Let’s motor.”
	It’s twenty-five minutes from Mariah’s home in Oakland to Angela’s in Presidio in the Cabriolet. Hamida took the time to scandalize a pair of randy bikers with a glimpse of his undercarriage. Opened the door for Mariah and Hamida, and found my legs tackled by rugrats.  Holden and James encircled my left leg.  Zoe became a boot on my right. My cohorts quickly betrayed me. Hamida sat down on the couch next to Farhan, who was watching Battlestar Galactica.  Mariah quickly excused herself to check on Jean.
“Hey shorty,” I called to Angela’s youngest, Grace, sitting feet up on the loveseat. I pried Holden and James from my leg, and slung them over my shoulders. Zoe remained determined to stay attached to ankle, as I walked to the kitchen.  
“You know, Zoe, you’re a little too old for this.”
“I’m twelve!” she brazenly retorted
“Ok, we’ll compromise. You have one year in which you may imitate the behavior of your little brothers, and continue to hug my leg. Come next Father’s day, however, you’ll be a teenager and I’ll be expecting a proper hug, around the shoulders.” 
“But Jimmy and Holden are there.”
“Baby, have you just been outwitted by the logic of a tweener?”
	Angela was cooking in the kitchen. She wore cut-short jeans and a t-shirt to cook in but she looked as beautiful as the day I met her. Age served her well. Her silver eyes never dulled, her face only wrinkled when she smiled. Her breasts swelled with each child, her jeans strained to contain the hips that had squeezed out seven babies. Her blond hair was trussed up and pinned into a French twist. A pair of Bosnian lilies from the garden were clipped into the space where the braid turned.  
“It’s not that I’ve been outwitted. It’s just, she’s expecting me to still have the twins in my arms next year. How can I compete with that world view?” 
	I set down Holden and James and suggested Zoe chase them off. The kitchen was mine and Angela’s.  I peeked under the lids of the pots she had simmering and saw my favorite dishes. Stuffed squashed boiled in tomato sauce and lamb bones. Beef brisket slowly cooked in the oven. Potatoes simmered in butter and a mysterious mix of spices I could neither coerce nor sweet talk out of my wife despite eight years of dangling cars or new printing equipment, threatening to withhold sex, and asking right after serving window-shattering orgasm after orgasm.  
	Angela’s cheek came along side mine and she told me Happy Father’s Day before kissing me on the cheek. The moisture on Angela’s lips was all hers. I didn’t feel oil lingering on my face as they drifted away.  “Dinner will be ready soon. I’m going to change.”
	My first wife left me alone in the kitchen. I trusted the simmering pots to take care of themselves and went to the den to be with my children.  Farhan lounged in his favorite pair of sweats, which had become a dilapidated shawl covering skinny legs. Hamida sat cross-legged beside his feet, watching the television critically.  Zoe, James, Oliver, and Holden had staged a massive confrontation between the G.I Joes and a group of Barbies, elephants, tigers, lions, ostriches, rhinos, and an alligator-shark superglue hybrid that were determined to stop the G.I. Joes from debasing the biosphere with their ceaseless landgrabs. I sank into the loveseat, watching the battle intently. 
“How’s it been Farhan?”  I asked during a lull in the fighting. 
“Oh, uh, it’s been good.  School’s good, you know. I took a test today, in history. Reckon I did well.”
“What about the thing we talked about?” 
“Well, Abe, you know, uh… can we talk about this later?”
Hamida was intrigued.
“There’s been progress then?”
“Yeah, uhm, indubitably.”
	I have to admit. I’m proud of the boy. I mean, it’s not like he’d be bashful about talking about a crush in front of Hamida and the rugrats. We only talked about sex a couple of weeks ago in anticipation of the topic coming up in his classes. In the meantime, the boy’s made leaps and bounds, his self-esteem has been way up, and if he’s popped his cherry, good for him. 
“Well, that’s good. You bring her over if it works out, Farhan.”
“Won’t you come upstairs and say hello to Jean?”
	Mariah had come from upstairs and snuck up behind the loveseat while I was talking to Farhan. The family was, shockingly enough, completely involved in other things. “Yeah, sure, baby.”
	I followed Mariah up the stairs, glad to once more have my face shoved in her fat ass.  We turned left down the hall and into where the guest room used to be. Instead, there was a big semi-circular room with four doors leading out of it. The semi-circular room still held a futon and a crib, despite the fact that all for doors led to bedrooms.  Here was where Oliver and Jean slept when Mariah and I spend the nights together, inside each other. Jean rested peacefully. At 24 inches and 14 pounds, Jean had been a blessing for Mariah and I. Now 11 months old, her hair had solidified to a light brown tangle of curly hair. I brushed her face lightly. 
“Hey Jeanie!”
	Her eyes cracked open and I was staring into dark brown pupils. She smiled and I waved. Whenever she drifted off to sleep, I was happy to have seen her, feeling a different excitement than I did whenever at the prospect of raising my other six children.  Granted, each feeling had been different, but it was unquantifiable. I kissed Mariah on the lips. “We did good baby.”
“Yeah, we did. I’ll go set up downstairs. You go get Mom.” 
	As soon as I left the room, I could see that Angela was not ready for dinner. I turned to Mariah as she headed down the stairwell. “You’re in collusion with your mother. This was just an elaborate ruse!” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
	Angela took up the entire doorway into the bedroom we had shared for 14 years. Her hands were over her head on the lintel. Her legs straddled the breadth of the threshold.  She wore the shorts she was wearing when I found her in the kitchen and a yellow bikini top that managed to cover her broad nipples. “Hello, husband.”
“It’s a very special day, wife. Are you prepared to open yourself to me?”
	Angela smirked, I could hardly contain myself. I rested my hands on her hips and felt her shake while she laughed. Her lips pulled back across her teeth. 
“So, you wanna?” I asked, one hand unzipping her jeans. 
“What you think I had Mariah bring you up her for?”
 	Angela wrapped her arms around my neck. I undid my button-fly and flung my pants towards my ankles. Angela let her shorts fall to the ground and stepped out of them. She slung her legs around my waist and plunged her tongue into my mouth. We nibbled on each others lips as Angela grabbed for my cock and began jerking it off and rubbing it up and down on her panty-clad honeypot.  Hmm, I didn’t even get to check them out this time.  I rub my hands along the small of Angela’s back and along the broad arcing curve of her ass As soon as my dick’s hard enough, I feel it pull the thin fabric to one side and slide in a couple of inches. From there, I’m in the driver’s seat.  
	I kick the door shut behind me and lean forward. My back tightens as it supports Angela’s weight. I penetrate the whole way in and her bikini-clad breasts crush into my chest as she pulls herself into me. This is the way we’ve done it for years. She’s supported her spine and I’ve supported her thick bottom. I plunge in and out of her again and again. Her long legs latching onto my sides, creating a pivoting body that I can alternatively thrust onto my pillar.  The muscles she’s using to hang on keep the tightness around my cock crushing.  I have to hand it to my wife. After giving birth to seven children and taking care of an insatiable husband four nights or so a week, she’s taken very good care of her kitten.  Damn responsible of her. I crushed into her again. Angela was gripped by an orgasm that forced her to lean her head back. As I humped into her mercilessly, loosening my grip so my pearls could rub up against the front-most fold of her pussy. As she tightened up around me, I felt her squeeze the precum out of my cock. I felt it leaving in dollops with each thrust and a buzzing began in my groin. I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting the buzzing move to my heart like a gut laugh moves from belly to throat.  
	Moments later, a tingling was spreading through my whole body and Angela and I were on the floor, going at it like the randy teenagers we never got to be together.  I’m not complaining, we’ve had 14 years together and there wasn’t a single day that went by that we didn’t have sex (except like twice when she was in labor). It’s not like I wish I’d been born in Tennessee.  Granted, Metra wasn’t a bastion of hospitality, either, but getting out was the idea. I believe the man they call “the boss” would shed some light on the subject.  
	Angela adapted well to our new ground.  For a change, we found ourselves in the missionary position, which was proving ponderous.  My wife turned the tables with one of those finely crafted four-foot long legs of hers. It generated enough leverage to slide her sweat covered back out from under me and land me dick up on the floor. With a pounce, she had me deep inside. Her panties, I saw were the matching yellow string bottoms to her top. As she ground her pelvis into mine, she pulled one string, and then the next, freeing her big, red clittie, with it’s shiny silver claw piercing.  I ran my finger along it’s length while she unbound her breasts.  I may have said I had some favorite parts to this day, but this is probably my favorite. Angela revealing the badge of the work we’ve done as a couple, those beautiful, round G-cup breasts, and the nipples she got pierced after she had Grace and we swore that would be the last one. I love seeing my wives naked. I leaned forward and took one of her rubbery nipples in my mouth. My lips couldn’t cover the areola. She began rising up and down on my cock, a little “oh” escaping her lips every time our crotches came together. Her silver claw hooked into the curly hairs surrounding my belly button and as she rode my crank her clit was pulled taut, or bent when she would raise her wide bottom up off of me until only my head held her open, or yanked ever which way as she slammed her heavy ass into my hips ceaselessly. She came again when I bit on her barbell and lightly tugged. Angela moaned into my shoulder as she slowly rubbed her leaking quim into the thick base of my dick.
	I pulled my legs up behind me and spread them wide. I laid her orgasming body in between them and began hurtling down the home stretch. Angela wrapped her long legs around my back while I rained deep thrust after deep thrust into her already overflowing box. My balls slapped off her ass with each successive stroke. The sound was deafening to our ears when we had it in our minds to make it with no one in the house hearing. My wife, of course, is a quick thinker. “Shove it in my ass, Abey. Just once.”
	Perhaps she is less of a quick thinker and more of a sexual deviant. We shall see.  I did as I was told. My cock was dripping with our collective cummings when I pried it from her sweettrap. She rolled onto her shoulders and gravity pulled her ass cheeks apart. I easily shoved it into her butthole.
“Urgh.” We both grunted, and a little geyser of precum shot out of Angela pussy. “Okay, now pull it out and get back to fucking me.”
	I switched holes and laid her butt back on the floor. I was glad to resume the beat I was slapping out on Angela’s ass but she had other ideas. She took my old, dangling ball sac and shoved all fourteen inches of it in her ass, one ball at a time and then pushing it as deep as possible with her long fingers.  I was in heaven. The pressure and heat surrounding my nuts was incredible. Angela clenched her rectum and my balls were massaged in a soft pocket between three tennis ball-sized silicon implants. I began bearing down on her again and each time a ball would pop out she’d push it back in again. A little twitch from her vagina would follow. Her claw was cold along my shaft, but her clit was warm. The combined sensation was like fire. Finally I was ready and Angela was there with me. 
	I pulled my balls out of her asshole when I shot my first stream of cum into her vag. She came immediately, and no less than an inch away I could feel her uterus spasming through her cervix. Angela and I sucked on eachother’s tongues and moaned deep. I gently thrusted as more and more cum spurted out of my cock. When Angela’s orgasm finally subsided, I pulled out and straddled her thin chest. My balls rested on her stomach. Angela leaned up and wrapped her lips around my head. I ran my pointer finger and my middle finger along my cum-tunnel, evacuating eleven thick streams into her mouth. Finally spent, I nestled my limp cock between Angela’s tits and bent my neck down to kiss her. (Whatever, my dick’s clean, my wife is clean, and I never put any stock in that you’re unclean if you’ve had sex thing.  She kisses my kids with that mouth!)
	I admit, my dick got hard wedged between those fine tits. I really wanted to fuck them too. Honestly, though, there will be other days. Let me tell you about Father’s Day dinner with my huge family:
	My wives sat on either side of me. As we sat around the dinner table, a great cross-section of a Sequoia, Angela sat to my right and Mariah sat to my left. I wore a white-and-black-pinstripe suit with a hound’s-tooth vest and a black shirt.  Angela wore a long cerulean blue dress with small white flowers printed on it. Her hair was down now and I had helped her clip a dozen lilies into her flowing blonde hair.  (Because, why else had we spent so long up there?) My sons and daughters flanked their respective mothers, while Hami and Farhan sat between Oliver and Zoe. Mariah had put a lace tablecloth out beneath our dinner.  There was room enough for one more.
	We all held our hands wide for a silent prayer before eating.   I prayed that the food would be clean and that I could put it to good use.  I prayed that sex with someone else whom my wives know and approve of is good in God’s eyes. I prayed that I had adequately prepared my son to wisely and responsibly explore sex. Finally and above all else, I prayed for God’s will. With that, I bowed my head and waited for my family to finish.  
	Zoe finished last. I can only imagine what a twelve-year-old’s relationship to God must be like.  When we began eating, conversation was driven by the cuisine.
“It’s delicious.”
“It’s so tender.” 
“You have to make this for my next gallery opening.”
Hamida and Farhan started a sidebar about the program they’d just finished watching. 
“It’s weird, this ‘all this has happened before and will happen again’ stuff, and everyone’s always coming back to life and planet-hopping.” Hamida said. 
“Well, it’s science-fiction, you know, and the idea is that the Cylons keep coming back to life because they’re just robots with programming that downloads.” 
“Yeah, but what about Starbuck, and that thing about Adama, and I mean, which Adama?” 
	I didn’t know Hamida was this into Battlestar Galactica, but in half a minute they’d left the rest of the table completely alienated as they engaged each other in a conversation about the implications of Cylons being able to have kids when “this has all happened before…”  Angela was particularly scandalized when Hamida abbreviated his theory to “space mormons.”
“Farhan, have you been talking to any girls at school?” she asked.
“No, mom, not really.” Farhan replied.  
	This was interesting. Though my curiosity didn’t show itself expect in a few slower bites into my squash, I was intrigued as to why Farhan was being evasive with his mother. He was typically open with her, and had admitted to her when he’d had his first wet dream. He’d never been shy about buying new underwear as he outgrew his old pairs. The private dinners we had with Mariah, Farhan, Angela, Hamida, his sister, and myself were clothing optional and it appeared the bashfulness was a trait that didn’t exist in him.  Again, why the subterfuge?  He’d been honest with me. He’d shown no proclivities to lie to his mother more than he’d lie to me. It was pipe and deer-hunter cap time.  
	We finished dinner in relative silence.  Occasionally, a question would come up, or a burdgeoning conversation, and it would simmer into quiet.  Afterwards, we had dessert, and I played with my children in the backyard before it got too cold.  Hamida drove Mariah and the kids to her house.  Farhan left to go for a walk before I could get a chance to talk to him.  My wife, ravishing in her blue dress, demanded I not wait for him to come back.