Karen was climbing the walls. The day between the tapings was excruciating. The tension was absolutely nerve-racking. With nothing to do but pace the shabby little house, she was going mad. She wasn't sure if she was just anxious to get the game show over with, or if she was horny.
Finally, seeking escape, she made out a shopping list and headed for the supermarket. It was a block-and-a-half walk to the store a block, and a half in the hot sun. She was sweating through her light dress by the time she got there. Once inside, the air-conditioning chilled her, and her tits jabbed up sharply. She glanced down, and suddenly wished that she had worn a bra after all. The bruises on her titties had made the cups painful, but now, her boob ends were showing, poking anxiously against the soft cotton bodice of her dress.
She wasn't wearing any panties, either. She was suddenly exquisitely aware of her nakedness under the dress. The cool air touched her naked snatch as she pushed the cart down the aisle. The stack of cucumbers made her pussy simmer, made her think of all those cocks she was going to have the next day. Turning away from the long, green cock-like vegetables, she saw the bananas, and her cunt convulsed again.
She was unbelievably horny, and she was going to have to wait a whole day to get her hole filled. Her insides squirmed at the thought. A whole day of excruciating hunger would drive her mad. If only she had a man for a husband, instead of a damn fool machine, it wouldn't be so bad. But all he did was fall into bed, and go right to sleep. He hadn't even noticed that she had gone to bed naked.
Karen idled her way down the aisle, killing time as much as anything. Most of the sloping bins were nearly empty this early in the morning. But it didn't matter. She didn't need any vegetables anyway. But it seemed that everywhere she looked, there was something that made her think of pricks. If it wasn't cucumbers or bananas, it was a squash. She kept having the urge to curl up in a tight ball around the hot core of horniness in her gut.
At the back of the store, the swinging doors into the cooler, the stock room for the vegetables, were propped open. The stock boy was at the back of the room, working at the sink. He was young, about eighteen. He was also tall, slender and black.
Karen tried to remember his name. She had seen it many times on his badge. Peter? No, that was Sandier's name, from the show. Easing her cart off to one side, she glanced casually around. No one was watching. She slipped through the doors into the cool, earthy-scented confines of the produce room. The doors swung closed behind her with a soft thump.
"Mrs. Calder!" the stock boy exclaimed, turning at the sound of the doors. "You're not supposed to be in here."
"I was looking for something fresh, this morning," Karen answered. She felt her titties sharpen from the change in temperature, and from her arousal. The teenager was wearing a pair of tight black slacks. The bulge at his groin was impressive.
"Something special?" the black youth asked.
"You might say that," Karen agreed, running a finger along the edge of a crate. "Something long, and fresh, and juicy," Her insides were boiling. A hot spring of lust had formed in her guts.
"Got some nice fresh carrots here."
"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Karen purred. "But that's the right shape." She wondered how her pussy could get so wet so fast.
The lump in the youth's groin got bigger. His hot, dark eyes were stroking over her body, picking out the tips of her titties, the generous thrust of her knockers, the swell of her mature hips. "Something more along the lines of a cucumber," he said, his voice rich with meaning.
"Something like that," she agreed.
"Something sort of round, and hard, and long," the black youth went on. "Something that the juice sort of spurts out of when you bite down on it."
"Exactly," Karen agreed. Her breath rushed out of her lust-knotted lungs.
"I think I have what you need," the youth assured her. "Just a moment while I fix the door so we won't be disturbed."
Karen heard feet clatter on the wooden slats over the concrete floor. The latch on the swinging doors snapped loudly. She was locked in with him!
He turned. He was standing at the door, looking at her, his hand touching his fly. He ran the zipper down, and pried his dong out. He curled his black fish around his black prick and skinned the foreskin back, revealed the purple-black knob. He pumped his hand slowly, made the skin slide over the rigid center.
"This what you were looking for?" he asked softly.
"Yes," Karen whispered. "Yes," she moaned. "Oh, God, yes, that's it." She tottered toward it, her eyes focused on the vertical slit that would spew hot come into her, come that would put out the raging inferno in her guts.
Without his even asking, she dropped to her knees in front of him. She reached out both hands and touched his throbbing whang delicately, tenderly. She stroked his black dick, felt how velvety soft the skin was, how hard the interior shaft was. She tickled the underside, along the dorsal vein, along the channel that would carry creamy jizz into her.
Leaning forward, she let her warm, sucking mouth engulf his dick. She swirled her tongue over the rubbery knob. She tasted him, savored him, stroked the nerve-patch beneath the cockhead. His goo sizzled onto her tongue, filling her with its taste and scent. Surrounded by vegetables, she sucked his cock. She took half of it into her mouth, took it until it squirmed against the back of her mouth.
Still kneeling on the floor with his dick in her mouth, she used one hand to drag her dress up. She pulled her thin cotton dress up, baring her pale white body. She shoved her dress up until it was bunched under her armpits, and her great, naked titties with their hard rubbery points, were exposed. She had bared her pale rounded tummy, her white, lush thighs, the thick brown tangle of her twat.
She wriggled erotically in front of the stock boy while she sucked on his dripping dick. Her breasts quivered and joggled as she writhed on her knees before him. Her hips pumped and fucked as she mouthed his cock. His strong hands stroked her long brown hair, dragging her face farther onto his dick.
Squirming and wriggling and writhing, Karen sucked his cock, finally swallowing the rubbery head the way she had learned at the TV studio. She swallowed more and more of it, working her lips, sucking it in. She mashed her nose into his wiry black pubic hair, then had to back off to suck in some air.
She was surprised when the youth leaned back, too. He dragged his dick out of her mouth and rubbed it over her face. He smeared her face with her spit and his pre-come. Holding her head with one hand, his rigid hard-on with the other, he wiped his cock on her face. She tipped her head back so he could see the goo he was spreading all over her cheeks and nose and lips.
"Know what I'd like to do to you, white lady?" the black man asked.
"What?" Karen groaned.
"I'd like to piss all over you."
"Oh, God!" Karen moaned hotly, her lust jumping to an incredible level.
He went on wiping his dick on her face, smearing her with pre-come. "Like to piss right in your face," he went on. "Piss in your mouth, watch my piss just run down that white body of yours in yellow rivers."
"Yes," Karen moaned. "Anything, anything at all, piss on me if you want."
"Take your dress off," he ordered harshly.
Desperately, Karen struggled out of her dress and threw it side. Naked, she knelt on the slats, knelt in front of the produce man. She touched his dick with her fingers, held it, and held herself ready for him. Her mouth was half open.
For a long, aching, agonizing minute, nothing happened. She felt his pecker soften slightly, then pulse and jump in her fingers. Something hot, and wet stung her face. Hot, salty liquid spattered on her nose, into her mouth, spilled down her throat, around and over her titties, down her body in burning rivers. She felt the prick in her hands vibrating as it unloaded all over her lush, pole body, filling the air around her with a warm scent.
She was kneeling in front of a man, holding his prick while he pined all over her! And she loved it. She felt her cunt go into a mad series of spasms as she came just from his hot wastes pouring over her naked body. She writhed in a blazing coming as he pissed on her.
For what seemed like hours the hot stream played over her, then slowly died. It cut off, spurted twice, then quit completely. She was dripping and shivering. Leaning forward, she took the cock that had just fountained all over her, and put it into her mouth. She felt it come back to full hardness.
With a groan, she fell backwards onto the cold, hard, slippery slats and spread her crotch to the black man. With no preliminaries, he dropped on her and slammed his cock deep into her spuming cunt. She wound her legs around him as her hips bucked and heaved. His cock pistoned in her with a hot slapping sound. Her cunt was pounded to a pulp by his hard body.
She roared up to another screaming orgasm as he kicked her there on the floor. She dug her heels into his hard ass, spiking herself on his dick. She felt his cock leap and pump in her steaming tunnel, felt come fill her cunt as she was cremated by the flames of her coming.
Then he was done and his prick was shriveling, and she was coming down from her own peak. She felt his dick pull out of her flooded cunt. She became aware of his pies drying coldly on her naked skin. As she lay on her back, his cream dripping from her twat, she saw him rip off his shirt and throw it aside. She realized it must have gotten soaked with piss as he raped her.
For a moment, he looked down at her. He was shaking, and his hands were opening and closing nervously. "God, what have I done?" he asked.
"Nothing I didn't ask for," she assured him weakly, sadly. "Not a thing I didn't ask for."
"Yeah," he agreed, his fear easing. "Yeah, I guess that's true."
Feeling gross and disgusting and ashamed, Karen struggled to her feet. She teetered over to the sink and turned on the water hard. Then, while the youth watched, she used the hose to clean her naked body, to wash off the piss still clinging to her breasts and belly and face.
After drying herself with paper towels, she pulled her dress on. She was shivering. Without a word to the man she had degraded herself with, she unlocked the door and went back out into the store. Like she was in a dream, she took her cart and started down the next aisle.
She kept thinking of what she had just done, and kept getting horny. She thought of letting that man piss all over her, and her pussy heated up. She remembered the feel of his cock jumping and spurting in her snatch, and felt her need for another fucking growing greater.
She was going mad, of course. I must be a nymphomaniac, she reflected. But she had heard that a nymphomaniac never got any satisfaction from sex. Karen got a great deal of satisfaction from her fucking. That was the trouble. If she didn't get so much satisfaction, maybe she wouldn't do it so much.
As she was pushing her cart past the the delicatessen section, her eyes fell on the sticks of pepperoni. She stopped dead and studied the long sausages longingly. She felt come trickling down the insides of her thighs. She thought of taking one of those long cylinders, rough and hard as it was, and jamming it into her cunt. God, how it would burn! Or, up her ass, maybe. It would tear and rasp at her asshole, burn her butt with its peppery juices.
She tore herself away, and headed down the next aisle in a turmoil. There didn't seem to be any limit to her imagination any more. She didn't seem to have any inhibitions left. None at all.
Anyway, why not do it? Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. She turned up the coffee-breakfast-foods aisle. She was screamingly horny again. She had to find someone to plug her hungry hole.
She reached the meat counter, saw the butcher at work behind the plate-glass window. With powerful swings of his arm, he was cutting chops from a pork roast. After weighing and packaging them he went into a huge cooler. The door closed behind him. He came back out and set a tray of packages of a conveyor belt. The tray started toward the display case where Karen was standing.
She waited, shivering with fear and loathing for herself, and lust. He unloaded the tray and was about to head back info the workroom.
"Hello, Murph," she greeted him throatily.
"Hi, there, Mrs. Calder," the stocky Irishman said warmly. "Something I can do for you?"
"I need some meat, Murph," she answered. She was becoming much bolder.
"Yes, ma'am, that's what I'm here for."
Karen looked up and down the counter. No one was in sight. "The meat I'm looking for isn't in new," she told him conspiratorially.
Murph looked puzzled. He looked up and down the long, low case. "I don't know what it could be then," he mused. "We've got beef, lamb, pork, chicken, turkey and Cornish hen all out. Everything but horsemeat and goat," he joked.
"Why don't we go back into the cooler and see if I can find it there," Karen elaborated.
"But I'm not supposed to allow anyone back there," Murph stammered.
Karen was about to give up. The man was unbelievably dense. She rubbed her cunt through her dress, bunched the material in her crotch, moistened it with the come oozing from her slit. "I don't think you understand," she breathed. His blue eyes widened as he watched her. "This is a very special order only you can fill. And, it has, to be done in private," she told him.
Murph flushed pink and licked his lips. He wiped his hands on his apron and looked around nervously. "Well, ah, okay, but hurry, so nobody sees you," he hissed.
Karen abandoned her cart and followed him into the cool workroom. Right on his heels she followed him through the heavy door into the cooler. He pulled the door shut behind them. She heard the latch click.
The room was brightly lighted by big fluorescent fixtures. In the center was a wooden butcher's table, eight feet long and half again as wide.
Hanging along the walls, on meat hooks, were sides of beet and pork and lamb. They looked naked and ashamed without their hides all pink lean and white meat.
"Now," Murph said, gaining assurance from the familiar surroundings, "just what was this order you wanted filled?"
Karen didn't hesitate. She stripped her dress up and off. She shivered, remembering that the ideal storage temperature for meat is about forty degrees. Her tits were hard as rocks.
"How would you like to carve off a piece of this?" she asked, fingering her brown-bushed cunt, rubbing her erect clit.
Murph turned pink. He licked his lips as he studied her. His strong, meat-cutter's hands came up under her jugs, lifted the heavy globes. His thumbs stroked her erect tits. Karen shut her eyes as excitement rushed through her. She imagined being caned up by sharp knives, and shivered as her cunt flooded.
His hands stroked clown her bold naked flanks to her hips. He gripped her crotch, slid his fingers in between her thighs.
"Choice grade?" she asked hotly.
"Prime," he answered. "Strictly prime nicely marbled. Not too much fat. Tender and juicy." He slid a thick finger up into her steaming cunt. She didn't tell him that half the juice there was another man's come. Instead, she spread her thighs and humped her pelvis. He fucked her with his finger, hooked it, so he was lifting her with it. She went up on her toes as be hauled upward on her crotch.
If they hadn't been so cruelly sharp, she would have asked him to hook one of his meat hooks into her snatch. She imagined his finger was one of those shining hooks. She imagined that she was going to be racked next to a side of beef, swung from the ceiling.
He toyed with her twat for a long time, until she was shivering from the cold. Then, with an easy lift of has muscular arms, he boosted her up onto the cutting table. The wood felt cold and greasy under her ass. As she lay back she saw him starting to strip. He was stocky, pale and pink. He had red hair on his chest, and a red bush.
His dick was sturdy and solid, ready to ream her cunt. Karen had the feeling the butchered animals were watching her as she stretched out on the carving block. Over her head was a glittering array of knives and cleavers.
The table shook slightly as Murph heaved himself up between her spread legs. She kept staring up at the knives, the shining, sharp knives. He lowered his bulk down on top of her. His cock touched her twat. Her hips heaved upward in welcome as his weight crushed down on her chest. His cock bored into her streaming tunnel. She spread her arms and legs wide. His hot, heavy body ground her into the fat-oiled top of the chopping block. He speared her on his thick, hard sausage.
She stretched herself, wider and wider. She imagined ropes were dragging her arms and legs out. She imagined her tendons were stretching and stinging as she was dragged open. She felt his cock pistoning in her cunt, felt him crushing her clit, and her lust boiled higher.
As butchered hogs and steers swung around her, she let herself be impaled on the meat-cutter's pounding prick. She slitted her eyes, and the gleaming edges of the knives and cleavers hanging over her spun out into shining clouds.
The butcher continued to slam into her, continued pounding her into the table. His dick burned in and out, in and out. Her clit was being rolled and squeezed between their crotch bones. Her coming went on and on and on, until she was a shivering, helpless carcass.
She didn't rouse until the might was off her body and the cock was gone from her cunt. She was lying on her back in a cold room, another load of come sloshing around in her abused cunt. The butcher was dragging his clothes on. She rolled off the table and got to her feet. He didn't even look at her ass he pulled her dress on and stepped into her sandals.
He cautiously opened the cooler door and stuck his head out. Then he escorted her quickly back to the right side of the meat case. Then he vanished into the cooler a frightened gnome returning to his cave.
Karen was shivering from the chill. And still more male juices were oozing down her naked thighs from her bare snatch. A wave of misery rolled over her. Two grotesque fucks already. And the rest of the day stretched ahead of her like a vast wasteland.
A hot lump of horniness burned in her gut, in spite of her multiple comings. As she wheeled her cart down the next aisle, she felt the insides of her thighs getting slippery and slimy. And all that gooey flow did was make her hungry for more. She was hungry for sex. She remembered her near electrocution the day before. Today's pleasure paled before that memory.
Swinging past a stack of cans, she started up the next aisle, and almost ran over a stock boy who was loading shelve. She cast a longing glance at him, and wondered what his cock was like, what it would feel like jammed into her snatch.
"Can I do something for you?" he asked, noticing her stare.
She wanted to ask him to fuck her. She shook her head tensely. "No thank you, I was just thinking. Prices sure are going up these days, aren't they?"
"Yes'm," he agreed politely, and went back to his stacking.
She lingered a moment longer, fighting the urge to rip her dress off and attack him. Finally, she forced herself away and continued down the aisle. She felt her come-smeared thighs stick together. She was going mad. First the vegetable department and then the meat department. And she had almost raped a stock boy right in the aisle.
Hiding behind a pyramid of soup, she got her list out and tried to read it. Her hands were shaking so badly, she had to steady them on the cart. She looked down. The only thing she had gotten was toilet paper. Suddenly, she realized she had forgotten her wallet. She almost broke down and cried.
How could she have gotten herself into such a state? It didn't seem possible. Sweet, innocent, demure Karen Calder was turning into a whore. Only, she wasn't even doing it for pay! In high school, she had been one of the "nice girls". Until she had married, she had been a virgin. Now, there wasn't anything she wasn't willing, eager to try.
Blinking back tears, she blundered toward the toilet paper aisle to put the package back before heading homeward. She overran the aisle and was about to turn back, when she was grabbed from behind. A hand clamped don over her mouth. She struggled weakly, but it was no use. She was dragged through a door into a storage room.
Rude hands fondled her breasts, and she felt her lust betraying her, boiling upward. Her dress was dragged up to bare her yet again. Suddenly the man who had grabbed her was slamming his cock into her hot snatch, and she was bucking with pleasure.
She managed to get her eyes in focus. She recognized the security officer of the store. His gray uniform cap askew, he was raping her with brutal single-mindedness. She began to come yet again. He was an elderly man, with a bit of a hunch. He was sweet and gentle-looking, usually and he was raping her. He had always been polite and courteous to her, opened the door for her. And here he was, stabbing her with his towering hard-on.
And she was loving it, eating it up, taking his drives, clawing at him. She pushed her against a stack of cartons. His face beaded with sweat as he rammed into her again and again. Then he began to come. His spurting cock filled her full of creamy juice.
"Awwwww," Karen moaned as she came again. Her body ached with exhaustion from all the spurning and coming. She shuddered as overflow of man-juice flooded from her snatch and spattered her thighs. A burp of air farted from her cunt as the man pistoned in her one more time in an effort to keep his climax going.
Then he was backing away from her, slumping wearily on a stack of boxes. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. All Karen could do was lean back against the cartons. Her dress was still up under her arms her breast and belly and sodden snatch were all bare. She felt come drying cold and sticky and crusty on her belly. The inside of her thighs were rubbed raw from all the ravishings.
For the first time that day, she was sated. The knot of horniness was gone from her gut. She was also exhausted. She heaved in a deep, shaky breath.
"Mr. Eaton, you astonish me," Karen croaked. "I-I saw you with the butcher, on closed-circuit TV," the guard wheezed weakly. "I'm sorry, but, it just got me so turned-on, I just had to have you. I had to! You, sashaying around here all naked under that dress, propositioning the butcher and poor little Willy, letting them do terrible things to you. I just had to have you. I had to."
Karen didn't make any attempt to pail her dress down. She just didn't care anymore. Besides, the come would dry faster this way. She didn't want her dress stained with the goo. "You saw it all, then."
"Everything. Even when that animal urinated in your face. Even that. You seemed to love it. And with Murph, you looked like you were being drawn and quartered. And you looked like you were enjoying it."
Karen shuddered and closed her eyes, and visualized what this sweet, elderly man must have seen.
"My wife hasn't been interested in sex in years," the man went on morosely. "I go to X-rated movies with an overcoat to put over my lap. Under it I masturbate. Seeing you was more than I could stand. If you want to turn me in, you can. You have every right to."
Karen shook her head. "I don't have a right to do anything," she answered sadly. "I asked for it all. I wanted it, everything that I got, even you. I mean including you," she corrected herself.
"You meant 'even' me," he noted sadly. "I'm old and paunchy and ugly. I'm hardly a sex star."
Karen wanted to argue with him, wanted to reassure him. "You were very good," she said softly. "I'm not horny any longer."
"You aren't?"
"No, you finally did it for me," she told him truthfully.
"Gosh!" The pride on the man's face was touching.
"I think I'd better be heading for home," Karen said at last. She dragged her dress down to cover herself.
"What's happened to you, Mrs. Calder?" the guard asked. "You've never acted this way before."
Karen bit her lip nervously. "I guess I'm changing, Mr. Eaton."
"Please, call me Jake."
"Mark hasn't been paying any attention to me," she admitted, then decided she'd better change the subject. "You say you go to X-rated movies?"
"Almost every week. It's kind of expensive, but on my day off I usually manage to get to at least one, sometimes two."
"How expensive are they?"
"Five dollars, usually. But I have to have some outlet."
Karen thought of her taping the next day. She knew the itch in her guts was going to bebackby then. "Would you like to see me in action again?" she asked.
"What?"
"Are you off tomorrow?"
"Yes."
She told him where to be, and when. "But, I don't understand," he stuttered. "Let's just say it will be my last performance," she told him. "I'm going to bring down the hall."