Manny listened to Tuesday's recital of her session with Mr. Hiroto and the more he heard, the more he smiled.
"Goddamnit!" she raged. "I don't see anything to smile about. The bastard hurt me. He hurt me bad. God knows how long it will be before I'm ready to take on a regular cock again. Jesus Christ! I attract these sickies like a shit draws flies."
"You miss the point, baby," Manny said.
"What point?"
"The three thou you got there in your kit! Hell, we been going about this the wrong way. We been selling plain old fucking and sucking for peanuts when these guys who want blood will lay out the real heavy bread for it. Now what the hell does that tell you?"
"What?"
"It's simple," he said. "From now on we become specialists. We cater only to these fucked-up cats. No matter what they want, we give it to 'em, and charge accordingly."
"But wait a minute," she protested. "I don't
know where you get this we stuff. I'm the one who has to be chewed and clawed and fucked in every hole. Goddamn, I'm getting the pain, and I'm not about to take on bastards like Hiroto unless I get all the money except ten percent. Even then, you're overpaid. I'd like to see what you would charge to let somebody scrape out your asshole with a nasty fingernail."
"Okay. Okay," he agreed. "So, I'll work for ten percent. But we'll get more. Think how hard it is for any of these guys to get what they want. Don't you think Hiroto will tell his friends? Well, he will… and when they start calling, you just turn 'em over to me. We'll run a high-class, specialty service, but the creepy cocksuckers are gonna pay.
Tuesday shook her head in bewilderment. The only reason she was going along was that she knew it would take only a short time to put together enough money to get the hell out of the whoring business. Then, by God, she would marry somebody like Bick and settle down to run a chicken farm. That was what she decided she wanted. The quiet life on the farm.
"Okay," she agreed, "But I won't be able to fuck anything for at least a week, maybe more. Man, my whole cunt is a disaster area."
Manny patted her cheek. "Now you're talking," he said. "Just leave everything to me. Take a week to get over Hiroto, and I'll get busy and line up something. Hell, you're gonna be rich."
Tuesday slept a lot, and bathed her snatch and asshole in healing salt water and alum. The latter
was to shrink the tissues and make her cunt and asshole tight again.
Within five days, she was pissing without pain, and at the end of the seventh day, she finger-fucked herself to bring herself off to a roaring, ear-bugging orgasm that made her wonder why the hell men were necessary in the first place.
Then, on the eight day, she began to wonder if there was ever going to be any more action. She had not seen or heard from Manny. But just before nightfall on the eighth day, he put in his appearance, grinning broadly and obviously in high humor.
"I've struck it for you," he proclaimed. "Goddamn, you're gonna make more money tomorrow than the average whore does in a year!"
Tuesday frowned. "Don't call me a whore," she said. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, I found out about this exclusive club over in the Bradbury Heights section. All of 'em married men, and very discreet. It's so damn secret, the members don't hardly know each other."
'That's a double negative," she said.
"What?"
"Never mind. What about the club?"
"These guys got money up the gazoo, and they get together every once in a while because they have been drawn to each other. You know, they're all fucked up. They're asshole bastards that want to be whipped, and some fart-sniffers and shit-eaters. Oh, hell, I guess they got somebody who wants a little of everything. But it's more of a hunt club. They don't do much for each other.
Take a guy who wants to smell a really rank fart. He can't do a damn thing for a guy who wants to lick assholes. In fact, I talked to the guy who is just nuts on licking assholes, and he thinks the fart-sniffer is queer and they don't even speak. But they all stay in the club, because they figure if they can help each other search for partners, then they all got a better chance.
"There's one little thing about this deal. Lots of these guys want a man. One they were telling me about is a confirmed cocksucker. He won't do anything but cop a prick, and he won't pay a nickel for it if there isn't some shit kinda hanging on the back of the balls."
Tuesday was intrigued. "How in the hell would any shit be on balls?"
"Oh, you're not that dumb," Manny said. "If a guy has the runny shits, it's no trouble at all for some of it to drip out of his asshole and run down on his balls. Then, he doesn't wear himself out wiping his ass, he's got those delicious, shit-stained balls, just right for lopping."
"Huh? If I had balls, I wouldn't go around with shit on them."
"Not for a thousand? Well, I would!"
"You mean you're…"
"You're tuning in," he said. "Here's what I've done. I let the guy who licks assholes… he's a trustee for the YMCA and works with the Home for Unwed Mothers.., line the deal up. I told him to get five of 'em. I don't give a damn what they want, the two of us will give it. The price for an all-night soak is.. get this.., ten thousand."
Tuesday gasped.
"Now wait! I get five and you get five. And you're getting the best of the deal, because I'm the one who lined up the whole thing, and I'm getting nothing for my promotional work. But think of it! Five apiece for one night!"
Tuesday made a quick calculation about how much she had in the bank. "Okay, it sounds fine," she admitted. "I think I can handle this. What kind of sickies are gonna be there?"
Manny consulted a notebook. "Well, we have a shit-eating cocksucker, and then we got a real curiosity. We got this minister who likes to chew foreskins while somebody works up his asshole. I got the foreskin for him, but we'll have to work out the bit for his rear end."
"How about a broom handle?" Tuesday suggested. "We could sand it down real good, and put a rubber on it."
"Why put a rubber on a broom handle? It can't come, and besides, he won't get pregnant anyhow. Hell, if there are any splinters in it, he'll go ape, and we'll charge him extra. Okay, then, we got the broom handle taken care of. Now, you may be a little uncertain about this next one. He's got a real problem. He likes to chew the Kotex off a cunt. He says nothing will send him unless he can taste that good old blood."
"Well, we're shit out of luck. I'm not having my period."
Manny smiled, and tapped his head with his finger. "I'm way ahead of you. I've arranged to buy a bucket of blood from a slaughterhouse. He
won't know it's from a cow. I'll just soak the Kotex napkin in it, and then add a few drops of rotten fish oil. Shit! He'll think, he's eating the foulest cunt in the world."
N Tuesday had to admit Manny was creative.
"Then we got an ex-football player who was as queer as hell in college, but has gone down since. He just can't make it sucking a cock anymore. He has to eat on a sweaty jock strap, sucking the juice out of it while some fellow jerks him off. Hell, I can do that while the other guy is lopping my balls. Then, finally, we got what they call a titty walker."
"Jesus Christ! What's a 'titty walker'?"
"This guy is hung up on tits, but not like most people. He doesn't give a flying shit about playing with them. He wants to walk on them. You know, sort of a fucked-up version of running barefoot through acres of titties. He comes as he gets his toes with nipples poking up between them.
"Yeah, but hell! He'll kill me if he stands up on my tits. They aren't that big, but I'd damn well hate to lose either one of 'em."
"Hell, I'm ahead of you again," Manny boasted. "I got this guy to agree to do his titty walking lying down. All it will amount to is that he will be feeling your boobs with his feet. Shit, there won't be any pain in that at all. Now you gotta admit, I have done a helluva promotional job, and this is only the beginning. Hell, they got a whole load of way-out mother fuckers, and we'll clean them out. Shit, we'll fill up the bank with money!"
"I always thought you had plenty of money,"
Tuesday said.
"Hell, a rich man's never got enough."
Tuesday felt a certain anticipation. If five weirdo sexopaths could ante up ten grand for a single night, God Almighty, there must be millions out there just waiting to be hauled in. "You soak up the blood and rotten fish juice," she said. "I puke easily."
"Yeah," Manny said dryly. "I know."
That very night was the occasion of the massive sickie orgy… fuck… suck…fart… sniff…and eat!
Manny was as nervous as a cat before the first guests arrived. He had never offered himself for sale, and certainly not to a cod-lopping man. What's more, while he was able to douse the Kotex in cow blood and fish oil without any hesitation, when it came to smearing slit over his own balls, that was something else again.
Tuesday smiled silently to herself as she saw him gag as he prepared his balls. It was not his shit. In fact, it wasn't even human. It was some dog crap that he had scooped up out of the front yard.
After he painted his balls, Manny had to leave off his pants to allow the gop to dry, and while he waited, he kept himself busy and useful applying a sheet of number-two sandpaper to a broom handle which he had cut to a length of about two feet.
Tuesday liked the way Manny's balls flopped, even if-they were covered in shit. His cock was also attractive to her. She felt a slight tug of nostalgia as she looked at his prick. In less complicated days, she would have taken his cock into the warm folds
of her pussy and the two of them could have finished each other off and dreamed happily afterward. Now, though, there was the ever pressing quest for money which robbed life of its mystical and romantic properties.
Manny had encountered some considerable trouble in procuring a really raunchy jock strap. Contrasting his school days when a fellow would wear the same jock until it stood stiff against the side of his locker, athletes now get a clean ball bag every day. A dirty jock… a really dirty jock, was a tough thing to acquire.
Finally, he persuaded a two-hundred-forty pound-high-school football player who had exceedingly beefy thighs and a wiry-haired crotch to wear the same jock for three days in practice in order to soak it thoroughly with sweat. Then, Manny wadded the soaking jock cover into a ball and thrust it into a clothes bag where he hoped it would sour and be at its rankest maximum when the user got his teeth into it.
"Hell, if we can get a big enough reputation with these folks," Manny was saying, "we can tell all the whip and lash and bite and bleed bastards to get lost. Goddamn, there's a mission to be made out of freaks who won't hurt anybody!"
"Now there," said Tuesday, remembering Mr. Hiroto, "is where I'm with you a hundred percent."
The crowd arrived in a body. Manny fluttered around, sewing up drinks, and Tuesday who was bored by thew simpering, pseudo gentility of the men, wished to God they would cut out the
horseshit and get on with it. Finally, a spraddle-assed, trucking executive set his glass down and said to Tuesday, "I'm a titty-fancier. May I look at yours?"
"You sun can," she said, relieved. "Here, help me get my dress unzipped." She had left off her bra. After all, her titties did not require support. They were hard and firm and they did not droop. Hence, when one of the main orders was to let some bastard work them over with his feet, she was instantly ready.
"Ooooh! They're lovely," he cooed, kicking off his shoes. "Lie down! Lie down! I want to touch them with my toes!"
Tuesday flopped unceremoniously on the couch, and the fucker stripped off his socks and climbed up to sit on the back of the divan. In this manner, he could put both his feet on her titties. As soon as he was situated, and got her nipples up between his toes, he began to moan in a low voice, and his cock sprang up in his pants.
He unashamedly pulled his cock out, and began to stoke it gently as he worked his feet around on Tuesday's tits.
This seemed to electrify the crowd. The guy who wanted to eat the Kotex felt tentatively in Tuesday's crotch to make certain she had the rag on. When he felt the soft padding which was unmistakably a sanitary napkin, he beamed broadly, and began to jerk his pants off with one hand to elevate Tuesday's skirt with the other.
Manny realized that the moment was at hand when the orgy would blast off. He hurriedly
produced the smelly jock strap, and got out of all his clothes while the jock chewer was sniffing over the rancid surface of the supporter. Its smell was sufficient to foul the whole room, but he buried his face in it, and the others were quick to observe that there was almost at once a damp and widening spot of cooze oil spilling out of his cock and showing up on his pants. That's good, Manny thought, because the jock chewer would not require any further attention.
The cod lopper, however, was so anxious he was jumping about, and trying to constrain himself until Manny could produce his shit-stained scrotum.
Manny's balls were swinging, and had a distinct brownish flavor to them. The lopper shoved Manny into leaning over the arm of a chair, and he thrust his nose against Manny's nuts.
"Jesus," he exhaled, "would you smell that lovely odor? Your balls are the best I ever saw smelled." He took one tentative lick at the scrotum. "Jesus, what a taste!" he cried, smacking his lips in relish. "Oh, my God, what did you eat to product shit like this?"
"Dog food," Manny said with a smile.
Finally, they were all in action except the poor asshole who wanted to chew a foreskin. He was circling around Manny like a bird of prey about to strike, but at first, he could not figure a way in which he could get to Manny's cock. Then he squatted on his haunches and backed up under where Manny was leaning over the arm of the chair. Thus, he got the foreskin between his teeth,
and as he whimpered and slopped around, Manny silently handed him the broom handle.
"Hell no," he protested. "I'm not working that thing into my own asshole. You got to do it."
Manny started to move about to make this possible but the cod lopper protested, and for a moment it seemed there might be some sort of confrontation between the foreskin chewer and the cod lopper.
Manny saved the day. By a simple readjustment, the three of them fell on the floor. Manny got a quick and juicing hard-on when he felt his foreskin being pulled into a mouth and gently gnawed on. His cock responded, and this, in turn, sewed to excite the chewer.
Once Manny got excited, he could work the stick up the gaping asshole with a certain relish.
Meanwhile, Tuesday was having a hell of a time. The Kotex chewer had pulled the rag off her snatch and in his excitement, he had not been able to keep it held firmly between his teeth. Consequently, it fell to the floor, and the guy was at once back on the bare flesh of her cunt in search of more blood and more fishy taste. Of course, there was a slight indication of it on Tuesday's cunt, but she prided herself in the cleanliness of her twat, and the man soon discovered that she was not really on the rag.
"Wait a goddamn minute," he thundered. "This gal ain't bleeding."
Manny leaped up, wrenching his cock out of a hot mouth and puffing the broom handle from the twitching asshole before him.
"Yes, she is," he cried. "You may have caught her between drains, but she will turn loose some more in just a minute, won't you, Tuesday?" As he asked the question, he jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom where the cow blood and rotten fish juice were stashed under the basin in a closed cabinet.
For a second, Tuesday was not certain. Then she understood. "Please, gentlemen," she said, "will you excuse me a moment?"
"Hell no!" the titty-walker cried, shoving his toes about her nipples and holding on.
Tuesday twisted away, and kissed him on the cock. "I'll be right back," she promised. "I just got to go in here and turn myself on."
She truly had to choke down her bile as she opened the containers.
She dipped her hand into the smelly mess and smeared it all over her pussy. Then, reeking and bleeding convincingly, she hustled back into the action room, and was at once attacked by the two whom she had just left.
Her nipples were beginning to be irritated. The bastard's feet were rough and callused, but Tuesday knew he would not last long. His cock was drooling all over the back of the sofa, and his balls were now drawn tight against him. He was still stroking his cock, but it was merely that. He was definitely not beating his meat. His libido was produced through his feet. He would be coming in a very short time.
The Kotex chewer came like the ordinary man took a piss. He began to leak jizm out the end of
his cock, and it continued to run until his supply was exhausted, and the feeling receded from his prick.
Tuesday had not seen a man come like this, and she wondered if the feeling was as good to him as to others. Since nobody can feel what another feels at the moment of orgasm, there was no way to tell for certain. But the guy seemed to be going through dome sort of deep emotional experience as he ate the stinking cunt and dripped his droppings on the floor.
The cock chewer was a true loner. He sat stupidly against the wall, licking the bottom of the ball cup. Tuesday suspected that while he may have got some ticks out of chewing the jock, that he really got the most stimulation from watching the others. She suspected further that the jock was a cover for his own feelings of inadequacy, but as long as he could hide behind it, he could watch others and shoot off his load.
The foreskin chewer and the cod lopper were noisy.. They gobbled and slobbered, and the guy sucking Manny's balls had saliva mixed with dog shit running down his chin. His cock was jumping with a quick and forceful jerk, and Tuesday was sure he would come. And she was right.
Manny had an unerring instinct for timing, and as he sensed the lopper was going to blow his balls, the broom handle was rammed the full eighteen inches into the upturned asshole. The ball sucker screamed, took one final lick at Manny's balls, and expelled a sickening glop of come onto the floor.
The guy who had abandoned the Kotex to get
right into Tuesday's cunt was the last to come, but his climax was decidedly the most dramatic. At the moment when he was deep in her muff, and the overpowering smell of the rotten fish and cow's blood was stifling his breath, his asshole suddenly began to twitch. He reached around behind himself and tried to shove a finger up his asshole. It was difficult because of the position he had to assume to get into Tuesday's pussy.
Manny, seeing that the poor guy was in a tough situation;, jerked the broom handle from the asshole of the one who had already come, and plunged it in full force, laden with shit and a tinge of blood as it was, right up the Kotex fancier's asshole.
As the broom handle struck into his entrails, the Kotex eater sucked in a great mouthful of Tuesday's cunt drippings. He emitted a soulful scream. His balls were loaded and under tremendous pressure anyway, but his upward leap flung his load across the room to stick and then ooze slowly down the wall.
When it was all over, the five visitors lay scattered about, wallowing in their own dick drippings and asshole leavings. Tuesday and Manny were sadly in need of a bath, but they were happy.
Now, all they had to do was split the money, and line up the next deal. It was, all in all, Tuesday decided, not a bad way to get rich quickly.