Then I hit the road again, getting the hell out of that town, laughing to myself as I remembered Miss Snob. She would be damned careful in the future whom she put the snub on, trust me – if she lived to even consider putting the snub on anybody. Bitch.
Meanwhile I roamed the land, taking ass where I felt like taking it. I realized again and again that a broad stinks, that a bitch will do anything to be fucked, that everything chaste about a broad is in the guy's mind, not in the girl's cunt. And I wanted to do something bigger than ever. Somehow I wanted to do something I never had done before. So I decided to go all the way.
I put an ad in some underground newspapers: "Swinging male with plenty of go wants to meet hip chick with like motivations." And I listed a number for them to ring, "day or night".
I got plenty of calls, you can be sure. Oh, a lot of them were thrill-seekers with nothing to deliver, but you'd be surprised how you can work those over, too, if you handle the situation right. Here's how: Don't mouth off about yourself. That's the mistake most guys make. They think they can ball a chick by giving her dimensions over the phone, and they yak about their sex prowess the whole damned time they're on the line. It doesn't excite a girl to tell her you can give her a jazzing. But it excites her like crazy if you sweet-talk her into thinking that she's the most formidable fuck in the world.
Now that's difficult on a phone, and you can't be the big comic artist, either. You've got to smooth-talk her down the line to that point where, excited about her own possibilities, she'll ring you again to hear praise of herself. After a couple of times like that, she'll stop being the thrill-seeker who called you originally just to be part of an act and she'll start wanting the real thrills that were always behind her motivation. That's when you can cash in your chips for more nookie.
It was exactly those that I went after with my ads. I couldn't care less about the real swingers. I wanted the smart ass kind who read those ads, feel secure and snug at the end of a phone line, and laugh at the ad-maker behind his back. I wanted to get those babies.
And I did. It took awhile, and I lost some in the process, but I got the number I wanted: a solid dozen. That's right. I lined one solid dozen of them up, arranged to meet them, got together with them, and put the tag on each, luring them to my pad after a reasonable time and when I figured their hots were sufficient to insure they would show.
They did – on the same day, exactly as I had planned it. Oh yes I worked that out too. I had them all arrive on the same day at the same hour, got them all into the room together, and then watched the fireworks start. Do you know what I'm talking about? Figure it for yourself: twelve broads, finally lured to a place where they think they're going to be the individual star with no competitors around. And what do they find? Eleven other broads with the same notion. It does something to the female ego, I assure you.
For one thing it makes them very competitive. I've always noticed that about twats when they're faced with another vying for someone's affections upon which they're dependent. They're pissy. You can be sure they'd shoot to kill if you handed them a gun. And you can be sure, minus gun, they'll do everything in their power to snare the man whose snaring will set them up as queen bee.
So I proceeded to work on their egos. I suggested that they strip in order to prove their worth. It was a gamble, and they bitched, some even threatening to leave; but I lined them all up naked just the same. As I've said, over and over, broads like to take off their clothes. If men ever understood this, they wouldn't hesitate to offer a broad that possibility. I don't know what it is about the female mind, but something in them makes them think they're worth looking at naked. And they'll take off their clothes every time they get a chance.
So I had them undress, and then, like in a beauty contest, I went around measuring their tits and asses, hips and waists. And those twats lined up as if they were on the boardwalk at Atlantic City, behaving just like broads always behave: vain, vain, vain. And I went around measuring them all, taking thigh sizes and calf sizes; the whole bit.
Finally I subjected them to some tests. I had a plaster cock of myself again and I handed it to each of them, instructing them to stick it to their vags. Some protested anew but I pointed out that a real swinging girl never would bitch about something like that. "In fact," I said, "real swingers want to see themselves doing it on film." That was a new bait. I let it dangle, and moved on to other things.
After they all had tried out the cast of my dick, and I presented them each with a dildo, a dozen of which I had purchased especially for the occasion. They were monstrous things, even bigger than my cock, and the broads flushed just from the thought of sticking those rods up their buns. But I insisted they do so, and they did. Soon twelve twats stood with twelve dildoes in them, all in a long line in front of me. A broad will do anything, trust me.
While they worked the dildoes in their vags, I went up and down the line, kissing and nibbling their titties. They were a bunch of good-looking broads, and it was a distinct pleasure to nibble their orbs. And they loved what I did, too. Some of them even begged me to fuck them, right then. "To hell with the tests," several of them said. "Let's fuck right now. Come on."
But I wasn't about to do that. I had other things planned for those bitches. And I simply laughed lightly when they begged for my cock, and told them, "Another time."
I let them all work off a come with their dildoes, then took the instruments away from them. It had been a beautiful sight to watch, twelve broads standing or lying or sitting, all in the big studio parlor of the pad I had rented for the occasion, and to see them sending those leather dildoes up their cunts crazily while they worked themselves to comes. And more than that it was a pleasure to observe that broads would allow themselves to be subjected to that scene. If anyone had asked them beforehand, individually, if they ever would admit such a thing to happen, I'm sure you know the righteous answer those whores would have given the questioner.
But a bitch is always a bitch, and if you travel on that assumption, you'll never be short of ass. It's when you're a fool and think a cunt is above such things, that you make your mistake. It's when you think that there's at least one bitch somewhere who won't yield to such suggestions; that's when you're in trouble. Because, you see, there is no girl anywhere who really is different. They're all the same; every damned last one of them. None are different. Absolutely none.
And I proceeded on that assumption when I made a return date for the twelve to show up for "more fun". Ten showed up the next time, and I knew the other two would show on a third time if I handled it right. So I let the ten play with their dildoes again, made them think they were still being tested, led them to believe that all kinds of things were in the offing for the mate I would choose; and then went to locate the other two lost lambs when that session was done.
I had to put the make on them individually, flattering the bitches and cajoling them, and bringing them around to considering the beauty of attending another session. However I did not fuck them. I was determined not to do that. I could have creamed either one of them in no time flat; they practically begged me for it because they wanted it so badly. But I refused to do that. And I stayed with my refusal.
Then they all gathered again. It was the third session, and I introduced them playfully to ping pong paddles. They chased each other around the room, and they thought it was a lot of fun. Some of them even had little comes when I whacked their fannies with the paddles. Then I had them turn their paddles around and fuck their holes with the handles. It turned them on, and some of them actually rode their paddles to new comes. It was crazy to watch them lying all over that studio parlor, ping pong paddle handles up their snatches. They would be writhing and turning, left and right, their gazes delirious, and they would be yanking from and shoving to their snatches those paddles crazily. Damned nuts.
That was another session. They were becoming hooked on the thrills. They thought of themselves as real swingers, and they looked forward to the next time we would get together. "Let's have something different," they said. "Let's have something different." Asses.
I gave them something different. For the fourth session, I gave them all puppies to suck their vags. It was Rover all over again, and I taught them how to get dogs to learn to suck their twats. I should mention briefly how that's done. It's really very simple. You just put some horse meat up the broad's twat, grease her hairs with some of its juice and let the puppy learn to lick the cunt to get at his reward. You'd be surprised how fast he learns to like twat for its own sake. It's a habit, like every other habit.
The broads loved it. They went insane from the good feeling the puppies' tongues gave them. "Oooh," they squealed, "we never knew anything like this could be so good." And they hugged the little animals to their snatches. Even as the pups were being hooked, so too were those bitches being snared – but good.
So it was a simple matter to bring in the motion picture camera on the next occasion when the dogs ate their vags. At first, some expressed concern, but they all probably realized it was their claim to fame. They all could be Garbos of the cunt. And they began mugging for the camera before it was over, posing and letting me photograph their ugly cunts close-up; and they even spread their vags with their fingers so that I could go right in for the closest of such close-ups.
After awhile they took anything. Every session they took more. No matter what I offered to them, they grabbed it. They stuck carrots up their cunts; they stuck turnips up themselves; they reamed their own asses with bananas. They loved anything I suggested. They subjected themselves to a milking machine that I had picked up at a hospital auction, and they even suggested that I get a wringer washing machine so they could "wring out" their tits. Nothing was unusual for them, and they welcomed everything.
Finally I had them ready to go all the way. And the day came when I lined them up in a row in that parlor, told them to lie down in that same row, and then inserted an electric cock to each of their cunts. They didn't know what it was, thought the cocks were just a set of dildoes, but couldn't understand why a cord was connected to all of those prongs.
Then I turned on the machine, and the vibrations started. Have you ever watched one of those machines in action? They're amazing. Built exactly like a cock, and you can order them according to the size you want, they work on a power principle, moving back and forth in a cunt at the rate of pushes per minute which she desires and which she regulates on a dial that looks like something attached to an electric blanket. She can speed up the motion or slow it down to her heart's content, and no matter what speed she sets it for, if she sets a release mechanism, it will actually fire warm cream into her hole at the end of that time, increasing its motion automatically as it heads towards its come. The machine is amazing.
Ah, but I controlled the central dial, and they didn't get a chance to choose what speed they would get or when the comes would come. I regulated everything. And before I gave them their cocks, I trussed them all to positions on the floor which I had marked off with little metallic spikes, locking every girl in leather so that she could not get up. And particularly I locked their necks in leather bands so that they strained against those straps at their own risk. It was a nice touch.
Then, with all dicks inserted to twelve expectant cunts, I turned the central controls on and started their vibrations. At first it was very slow as I determined it to be. I watched the dicks going in and out of each cunt, and the broads were rocking their fannies slowly, enjoying the rides. All the girls were smiling, clear-eyed, and so very joyous with their electronic cocks. It was a pretty sight.
Then I made the first turn-up on the controls. The cocks increased ever so slightly their entries and exits. The girls responded excitedly to the change in rhythm. "Oooh, this is the wildest," one cried out. And another yelled, "Oh, gee, I never knew how good anything could ever feel." And they all were ecstatic.
Increasingly then I raised the controls so that soon they were swelling with the fucks they took. The groaners came into action. The whimperers started whimpering. The squealers squealed joyously. The screamers began their screams. Oh, it was a merry party, and everybody was having one helluva good time.
And then I sent the speed all the way. How fast do you fuck? I hate to say this but, no matter how fast you can screw, a machine can screw faster. It's just one of the things about electronics in our day. We can't match an electronic cock for speed. They are amazing. They go faster than anything you've ever seen. They go so fast that you don't even see them going. It is, at best, like watching a blur. You're not sure it's even moving.
But, trust me, you know it's moving when it's getting the reaction those dicks got in those cunts. The broads went insane. They screamed and yelled and moaned and groaned and sighed and panted and went absolutely berserk. And that's when the neck bands started having their effect.
There's something about a fuck that makes a girl want to swing her head left and right, to rise off the floor if she's fucking there, to lurch and lunge and maybe reach for air as the pressure builds up. But leather bands hold very firmly when they're bolted to the floor. And soon you have a lot of choking, a lot of gagging, lots of pretty blue faces.
Meanwhile, the fucking pressure mounted. It didn't let up. Some of them tried to scream that I stop the speed. But their own wild passion prevented them from finishing their pleas. Instead they simply heaved into new convulsions of thrust and barely could concentrate on anything, even their own pleasure, so great was the tension.
They came to come after come. They rocked and thrust their pretty pussies against the world. They shot their nerve endings loose rapidly and repeatedly. And still those formidable electric cocks did not stop. Those cocks seared the girl's twats, drove them to that point where they actually burned their holes, for the friction became unbearable, and I expected fire to break out at any moment. It was a most beautiful sight to behold.
But if you think that was all, you're wrong, for I had something else waiting for them. As they had their knees raised, hence both holes exposed, they were quite ready for nice healthy electronic cocks up their assholes as well, and I had supplied myself with plenty of cocks for my purposes, believe me.
So I placed those mighty cocks up their assholes also. They screamed – those who could still scream amidst their frantic insanity – when I simply injected those hard dicks to their narrow rear passages, no lubing allowed because I wanted those bitches to know exactly what a big dick felt like, going raw into their bungholes. And then I turned the control mechanism governing them, set it at top speed, and let it go right off in a solid series of blasts up and down that line.
Try it sometime if you want to surprise your favorite girlfriend. There's nothing matches it, believe me. All of a sudden, those cocks were in their assholes, going at ninety per, and the bitches were shot to hell, what with equally speedy dicks up their vags. They were exhausted, trust me; beautifully and savagely exhausted.
But they couldn't stop, do you understand? That's the put; they simply couldn't stop. With cocks going like blazes in their double holes, they were being driven to the point of final destruction, and yet they couldn't stop the thrashing action which resulted from the cocks spearing their vacancies. And that drove them closer and closer to mass unconsciousness.
I wasn't done with them yet, though. No. I had another set of electric cocks. I had invested plenty for the occasion and I was damned glad to bring it all the way in. And I went at them with cocks for their mouths, inserting one to every mouth down the long line. They tried to fight me away, but were too tired, too brutalized to do anything then except yield, even when they knew their fate. They could only accept that fate, not deny it.
So I inserted the third dozen electric cocks, and they had them in assholes, cunts, and mouths. Turning the current on, setting the controls for the speediest fuck in the world again, I had those dicks lunging the broads' throats, savagely thrusting themselves in and out with arch-swelling violence. And I loved watching the banging those cunts were getting in all three directions. It was impossible for them to do anything except take what was given them and strive desperately in their passion somehow to reach a final point from which they would no more return, from which they could depart into some kind of final dismissal of all thought.
But I wasn't done yet. Remember those pups? They were still around, in fact baying at the smell of cunt, baying from their cages in another room of that large apartment. And I had something planned for them, too; that is, for the broads, but the dogs would enjoy it as well.
So I got some fresh horse-meat blood I had saved for the occasion, covered the girls' tits with it, and ran a streak of it down each girl's midriff and to her navel, then on the line from her navel left and right to and round her fleshy hips. And finally, as one places a cherry or other decoration on a cupcake, I inserted a tiny dab of horse-meat deeply into each one's navel. It made a nice picture.
And to that scene I released the dogs. They went insane. They rushed wildly to the girls' bodies, climbed atop them and began lapping the girls' tits, sucking like mad upon them with their crazy tongues, dipping and diving to achieve their private nirvanas with the good licking of tits and midriffs, bellies, and thighs. And occasionally, of course, they made a nibble here and there in their innocent quest for the goodies that all dogs love. Finally they began probing the girls' navels in search of those tidbits of horse-meat.
Do you have the picture now? Exotic? Erotic? It was the greatest. There they were, twelve of them lined up in that long row across the width of the studio parlor, skylight above them baring illumination to that idyllic scene. And they all were strapped neatly at strategic points so that they could maneuver themselves sufficiently and yet not too much, thereby heightening their fantastic pleasures. Likewise, they all had in them three electric cocks, one to mouth, one to cunt, one to asshole; and the cocks were going as fast as any such cock can go. And of course, lastly but naturally not leastly, those puppies were scrambling all over the girls' bodies in search of that delicious horse-meat.
Oh yes, and the girls were rather breathless, let us say.
But remember this, I had not yet set the mechanism that would make those electric dicks come; that is, release the creamy fluid which spilled from all of them at that point when a fuck was to be ended.
That then was the next thing I decided to do. I triggered the controls to move the lurching fucks to their violent conclusions. And I also manipulated the sub-controls which determined how much come would come. Oh, modern electronics offers so many possibilities!
I set up gauges for the maximum comes possible, and then got out the whips, first putting away all the crazy puppies when they had done their jobs. There is nothing so terrible as whipping an innocent poor dumb animal. That I won't do.
The girls couldn't really cry out when I slashed them with the pair of whips which I held, one in each hand. They were mute in their agony. I say agony because, by that time, all chance of ecstasy long had been devoured in a sweeping agony against which they couldn't even protest, so great was that pain. And I whipped them savagely, right and left, swinging my whips madly as I stepped from one to another. I cracked their tits and pussies and smashed their bellies and thighs. And I drew blood in a few places and was sorry the dogs couldn't see that.
But I went up and down the line as the cocks, sprinting towards their comes, increased their stroke speed to that apex of friction when, if at all possible, fire indeed would come, and I whipped the girls violently until the moment of swelling release. Then their cunts, their assholes, and their mouths, their throats were flooded with the sweeping surges of come that battered them with fiery swiftness. They gagged. Many of them gagged, unable to swallow; they were so taut in their agony that they couldn't breath sufficiently, hence were dependent on violent gasps occasionally in order to gain any air at all for their lungs. Hence when all that come hit their throats in mad torrents, they couldn't take it; and they gagged; choked and couldn't breathe at all.
It is very interesting to watch a broad's face turn black and blue. There is a certain strange quality about it. You actually think of the colors as rather exotic, and they might even be somewhat psychedelic. It is a most pleasurable sensation to observe, I assure you.
Oh, they didn't die. Don't worry about that. The human body has an amazing ability to survive through very difficult conditions. It goes on and on and on and on. So they managed to survive. When the dicks, having released those gigantic comes to assholes, cunts, and mouths, finally subsided and stopped their fucking, and I stopped beating them with my whips, the girls finally came to an end of their mania. They stopped thrashing about, managed to gain oxygen again, and finally opened their eyes.
Oh, such defeated eyes. You've never seen anything like them. Their eyes were full of surrender. The girls couldn't speak yet, still being somewhat breathless, all definitely being exhausted beyond comparison; but their eyes betokened their abject servility and brutal surrender. It would be a long time before they prided themselves again on being swingers.
It would be a long time indeed.