| Contest Submissions: Valentine's Day: Roses are Red, Your Balls Are Blue |
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I returned to the on-campus apartment I shared with three other girls about three in the afternoon on Friday. The “Circumcision and Jewish Identity” exam had been a bitch. I drew a total blank on the question about Hasmonean innovations. I threw my book bag on the floor in the living room and went into the kitchen and made a float with Dekuyper Old Tavern root beer schnapps, chocolate chip ice cream, and plenty of ice. Collapsing on the couch, I drained it as I contemplated what I would do this weekend. I needed to unwind from a very tough week of classes. Soon I got up and went into the bedroom I shared with Kimberly. On the floor there sat one of my other roommates, Ashley, in nothing but panties. She rummaged through the bottom of my closet. “Ashley, what are you looking for?” She held up my Carlos Santana rainbow heels. “These.” And then she held my Marc Jacobs yellow patent leather kitten-heel pumps. “And these.” Next the Constanca Basto whipstitch suede and leather pumps with buckles. “I remember when you lost one of these at a party and one of those frat rats came back with it the next day and said he was looking for Cinderella. When I looked confused he added, ‘The redhead who did the strip tease,’ and then I knew who he meant.” “Hey, you have more shoes than I do, Imelda,” I joked. “Yes, that I do, Sarah. But Kevin has seen them all before. He likes me to wear heels and dig them into his back at the moment of truth. We are going to make Valentine’s Day a whole weekend thing instead of just one day. Kevin asked me wear something he hasn’t seen before. It’s really important that . . . we . . . uh . . . that I . . . uh—” “That you what, Ashley? Do you think he is going to pop the big question? Are you getting an engagement ring?” “Sarah, is that cum dribbling from your chin?” “No way! I just had a root beer float.” “Oh. I thought maybe you were getting A’s by getting down on your knees again, playing professor skin flute. But to answer your question, no engagement ring. He’s not going to pop the question, he’s just going to pop me, again and again and over and over.” Ashley giggled. I hated it when she giggled. “Well, borrow anything you like, Ashley. And good luck with whatever you’re up to, you dirty little slut,” I gibed. “You want something from Burger King? I’m starved. Missed lunch cramming for the big test.” I got back an hour later and went into my bedroom, seriously contemplating a nap. There stood Kimberly stark naked going through my drawers. And I mean going through my drawers. She held up my new psychedelic Samantha Chang bralette and matching thong. I hadn’t even worn them yet. Saving them for spring break. “Sarah, can I wear these?” “Why? I suppose you have a big fucking weekend with Joe planned to honor Saint Valentine,” I snapped, “and he’s seen all your lingerie.” “Uh . . . yeah. How did you know?” “Lucky guess. Sure, borrow whatever you like.” Just then Britney, our other roommate, pushed her head through the bedroom door. “Hey Sarah, do you still have that French Maid outfit you wore to that frat party on Halloween? With the apron, headpiece, and lace choker?” “Yes, I do, Britney.” “Can you loan it to me for the weekend?” “Why, are you going to clean our apartment?” Britney, like the rest of us, despised housework, and our place always seemed rather dusty. “Larry, my new boyfriend, likes to get a little kinky. See these red marks on my wrists and ankles? He tied me to the bed for five hours on our last date. First catsup all over my body. Then mustard. Finally, the mayo. Talk about a dude who likes fur burgers. He told me he has something really special planned this weekend for his valentine girl. I’m going to give him a really big heart on. Over and over. Maybe he’ll cover my body with chocolate and lick it off. Over and over. ” “Ashley, come here!” I called, knowing she sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea and reading a magazine. She came into the bedroom quickly, thinking something was wrong. “Okay, you three, what the hell is going on?” I demanded. “You just don’t have dates for the weekend. There is more to this story than you are telling me. What’s up?” The three of them looked at each other sheepishly and then started to giggle. I fumed. Britney spoke first. “We are having an orgasm marathon to commemorate our hero, Saint Valentine. Whoever has the most big O’s this weekend wins. Only intercourse induced quim quivering counts. The contest begins at 7:00 PM tonight and ends at 7:00 PM on Sunday. We have clickers to keep track.” “Really? What does the winner win? And why didn’t you ask me to participate?” “The winner gets to go first in the shower in the morning,” Ashley replied solemnly. We fought tooth and nail over the shower. The last in line was always late for class and the next to last didn’t have time to dry and do her hair, so she had to face the world with a wet, stringy mop. Not to mention the lukewarm water if you had the misfortune of being number four. “We didn’t ask you, Sarah,” Kimberly sighed, “because you don’t have a main squeeze at the moment. It wouldn’t be fair. And you keep saying you don’t like to engage in casual sex. So it appears you won’t be getting any flowers or candy from your valentine. Or any fucking either. ” “I was drunk when I said that about casual sex,” I whined. “And it was right after I did that dude in the Laundromat after he so generously lent me some fabric softener. But I didn’t cum. He was too . . . uh . . . premature. He said he’s on the basketball team and his nickname is ‘Quick.’ Doh! And I wonder why.” Kimberly got closer. She looked into my eyes lovingly. Her bottom lip trembled. I thought she would kiss me. But no, she chastised, “You shouldn’t drink in the afternoon, Sarah. I can smell the booze on your breath.” But it was too true, what Kimberly had said about my love life. Gary and I had broken up the day before Christmas Day. He told me he had concluded he was gay, and that he and Ben, a muscular dude on the wrestling team, had been trading blow jobs for a couple weeks. And then the anal just happened the night before and they realized they were in love. I cried when Gary told me that Ben could suck cock better than I could. “Only intercourse counts?” I questioned, becoming more and more interested. “Right, Sarah,” Ashley replied, “vibrators, tongues, fingers, and vegetables don’t score. Bumping fuzzies has to ring the bell.” “And it has to be a real dick!” Britney chimed in. “No getting that female prof who’s hot after your ass to do you with a strap-on.” “Yeah,” Kimberly added with a gleam in her eyes, “you got to ride the real bologna pony. Do the tube steak boogie. Park the car in the dick garage.” Kimberly tittered and I got furious, my face as red as my hair. “Okay, I’ll play,” I finally said, glaring venomously at the three of them. But then we all started laughing hysterically and poking one another. I hugged the still naked Kimberly, kissed her sweetly, and began to tease her gently with my fingers. But she pulled away quickly and shrieked, “No! I’m saving myself for the orgasm marathon!” * * * It started out as possibly the worst weekend of my life. I had a few male friends on campus with whom I occasionally engaged in a buddy suck or fuck, between boyfriends. When I propositioned Jeremy he told me that Friday nights was bingo with his mother. I didn’t know why the big smirk when he said that. And Jimmy told me, “No, I can’t. I’m making multiple deposits at the sperm bank this weekend. How do you think I pay my tuition?” Next I tried a party. By the time I got there the frat rats were already intoxicated and obnoxious. I just couldn’t imagine any of them giving me even one orgasm, even if they could get it up. Besides, I didn’t really want to slobbered on. Not that any of them were much into kissing. Just fucking and sucking. And with respect to the latter, they always insisted on being the recipient. So I left, still unfortunately celibate for the weekend thus far. I stopped at the pizza place to get one to go. All I had enough money for was a small with just cheese. The dude who waited on me stared lustfully. “Hey listen handsome,” I purred, “if you put sausage on my pizza I’ll let you play hide the sausage with me after you get off work.” He looked so sad. “My Prince Albert hasn’t healed completely,” he replied melodramatically. “Damn, what poor timing!” Well, I wasn’t about to ask whether he got his dick caught in his zipper or had an STD. So I just hurried off, knowing I blushed like crazy. I packed it in for the night, deciding to get a fresh start the next morning. And I did. At a huge mall an hour away. There were always a slew of attractive men at the mall. And if I didn’t get lucky I could always shop. First, I got a cup of coffee at a little café inside the mall. I called Kimberly on my cell phone. “What’s the score so far?” I inquired. “Well, I had two,” Kimberly reported. “Ashley said she had three. And Britney reported she got her booty bell rung six times.” “Six? Oh my God!” “Really. According to her, they stayed up all night. Apparently Larry really liked your little French Maid outfit and stayed up all night. So Britney did too. How many times did you get off, Sarah?” “Never mind.” I terminated the call. A handsome gentleman of thirty-something sat beside me, sipped his coffee, and began to read the WALL STREET JOURNAL. His silk suit looked handmade and expensive. I stared at him. “Miss, what is it?” he asked. “I was fantasizing about what you’d look like with your clothes off. Would you like to see what I look like with my clothes off? How about a little afternoon delight?” He looked into my eyes intensely. “Sorry, darling. You are extremely attractive and I bet you’re a tigress in bed but my heart belongs to another. I wear her like a shirt of hot desire. She’s like the rain soaking into my skin. I live for her and I would die for her. My wife is a wonderfully demanding woman who screwed my brains out this morning, and expects the same and more as soon as I get home. She would know. On the other hand, maybe if I introduced you to her . . . she likes for me to bring girls home for her to play with. Although I’m not allowed to touch them. Just watch.” I got up and walked away dejectedly, shaking my head. Just ahead I saw the Victoria’s Secret shop and strolled in. A big dude who looked like a Hell’s Angel fondled a pair of low-rise boy shorts. “I love purple,” he murmured. “Actually, that color is grape sorbet. Are you buying those for a special someone?” I mustered up the courage to interrogate. “Sweet. Those boy shorts would look good on me. Would you like me to try them on for you?” “Uh . . . well, actually, I plan on wearing these myself tonight,” he responded matter-of-factly. “Spike likes me to play the girlie.” I stormed out. This really cute dude about my age in really tight jeans with a really big bulge in them bumped into me. Why beat around the bush, I thought and squeezed his really tight butt. “Would you like to fuck me?” I blurted desperately. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his bulge. “This is a maxi-pad. I’m a male impersonator.” I decided to find a man in uniform. Nothing like a horny sailor. There he stood in his naval dress whites in Hallmark buying a card. “Sir,” I interrupted as he walked out, “have you ever tried the reverse cowgirl sexual position? I need to get laid, really bad. I’m desperate!” He sighed. “No, I’ve never tried the reverse cowgirl position, but I would love to with you, honey. I bet you can buck with the best. You are so hot! But I need a rain check because my uncle was killed by a terrorist. He was a high ranking government official and I’m on my way to the airport to meet a private jet to fly to Washington. Just picking up a sympathy card for his family. I’ll be back in a week or so. Then I could do you every which way but loose. Not loose because I have a very large penis. They call me Woody, by the way.” “I can’t wait until fucking Monday!” I screamed, as onlookers stared at me. Well, he and his wonder worm certainly weren’t going to do me any good this weekend, but I did give him my phone number. Eight hours later, after many more rejections and disappointments, I drove back to the apartment and cried myself to sleep. * * * I woke early on Sunday morning. Giving up all hope of getting laid, even once, I decided to go to church. My older brother Jason’s best friend, Frank the priest, had been pestering me about coming to the church he had recently been transferred to. Father Frank wasn’t doing the Mass that day so he sat beside me in a pew near the rear. “Frank, it’s been a while since I’ve been to Mass. I forgot, when do I kneel?” I snickered because I thought about that time before Frank decided to enter the seminary I caught him jerking off in the bathroom at our house. Somehow he persuaded me to watch, and then to use my hand. He said if I put it in my mouth he’d do my chores for me, including the dishes. It was big, really big. Although I had just turned eighteen, I was still a virgin and quite naïve. I didn’t want him to cum in my mouth because I thought I could choke to death but soon he gave me what I thought at the time was quite the pearl necklace. My first blow job and I must admit I did feel a certain amount of pride. And I really got a good laugh at my brother Jason’s reaction when he saw Frank scraping the plates. But Frank wouldn’t ever let me suck his cock again although I asked several times. Guilt I guess, about engaging in such activities with his best friend’s sister. So I practiced on big pickles until my first steady boyfriend. “Sarah, what are you smirking about?” he inquired. “You kneel after the ‘Holy, holy, holy’ until the ‘Amen’ at the end of the Eucharistic prayer.” “Or until you bust a nut,” I whispered, but he didn’t hear me I didn’t think. More than a few very attractive women made a pointed effort to speak to him as they walked down the aisle. “Well, the ladies seem to like you,” I observed. “They like me to hear their confessions rather than the other priests.” “And why might that be, Frank?” “Probably because I tell them that adultery is not the unforgivable sin.” “Say what?” “Sarah, be quiet please. We’ll discuss this after Mass.” “After Mass you might get some ass,” I muttered under my breath. Again, I didn’t think he heard me. He led me to his office upstairs after Mass. Quite luxurious. We sat on the couch and chatted. “So Frank, tell me, why did you become a priest, anyway? I mean, I thought you really liked sex.” I tittered. “Remember that time I walked into Jason’s bedroom and you had that cheerleader bent over and squealing like a stuck pig while she sucked Jason’s dick?” “Why, yes, I do. Carly was her name. She sure made a lot of noise. But to answer your question, Sarah, “I have met more hot chicks, and had some of the best sex, with women I’ve met in church.” “Huh?” “Sarah, the reason many women commit adultery is because their husband’s don’t satisfy them.” “Really?” “Oh, yes. After a woman confesses adultery to me, I quote John 8, verse 11 to her, ‘go and sin no more.’ But I also . . . ahem . . . give her recommendations to make her love life with her husband more satisfying so that she is not tempted to stray and sin ever again.” “What kind of recommendations?” “It’s . . . uh . . . difficult to explain. I don’t really explain it to the harlots. I show them. That’s the best way to get my point across.” “Frank, do you think you could show me?” “Show you?” “It’s very important to me, Frank, that I have sex today. A lot of sex. Very, very important. You owe me. I never told my mom and dad you made me suck your cock that time. Or your parents either. What if your bishop found out?” “Sarah, I didn’t exactly make you perform fellatio. As I recall you were rather enthusiastic concerning that endeavor. And Bishop Monroe, he gets his bishop buffed quite regularly. Those two altar boys who assisted with Mass today?” He looked at me knowingly. “Now Father Frank, Saint Valentine was a priest, just like you. When he was imprisoned he fell in love with the blind daughter of his jailor. He opened her eyes, let me tell you! I’ll wear a blindfold if you like and we can recreate some scenes from their trysts. I like to get kinky anyway.” “But Sarah, I just don’t know about engaging in sexual relations with you. Your brother is still my best friend.” “I’m not going to argue about this, Frank. It’s your duty as a priest to minister to me. Why wouldn’t you want to teach me how not to commit adultery before the fact rather than after? I mean, I’ll be married one day. Do you want to see me cheat on my husband?” I didn’t wait for his answer. Off came my To the Max pink silk charmeuse peasant skirt and Bebe white sequined chiffon blouse. Then the grape sorbet boy shorts. Yes, I went back and bought a pair. But a different size than the biker had in his hand. And a matching racerback bra. Well almost matching. The closest color they had was lilac. I popped it off and it fell to the floor. “Uh . . . I’m seeing your point here, Sarah. Two of them actually. You have beautiful breasts. I put his hands on my breasts. “I’ll come to church every Sunday if you fuck me, Frank.” Slowly I removed his cassock and soon he stood before me in nothing but black boxer shorts. “Why are you laughing, Sarah?” he inquired, as I tried to stifle myself. “Don’t you think you’re taking this ‘black’ thing a little far?” I joked as I quickly jerked down his shorts. “Oh my, Frank. I forgot how big you are. Really big. And it looks like you’re getting hard. Really hard.” He reached for me and we embraced tenderly. “I love you, Sarah.” “I love you too, Frank.” We kissed passionately for many minutes, exploring each other with roaming hands. He began to finger me until my clit throbbed with building anticipation. Frank pushed me gently down on the couch on my back. “Many of the women in the parish will only do the deed in the missionary position,” he explained. “It’s a religious thing.” “Well, I usually have a little trouble getting off quick in that position, Frank. Uh . . . at the moment I’m interested in maximum pleasure, maximum times.” “Not to worry, Sarah, trust me.” I groaned as Frank filled me up with his big cock. “Oh yeah,” I began to moan. “We’ll do a little variation of the missionary position.” He moved up about two inches higher so that his pelvis was in direct alignment with mine and placed his arms on each side of me so that his body fell flat against mine. Instead of in and out, he rocked back and forth, and I couldn’t help but thrust my pelvis upward, keeping in sync with him so that my clit repeatedly hit the base of his penis. “Oh yeah! This is good, real good. No wonder so many girls at Christian colleges want to be missionaries. Oh Frank, that’s it, honey. Fuck me, Frank! Fuck me good!” “Please don’t use that word, Sarah. Could you use ‘fornicate’ instead? It’s biblical.” “Uhhhh . . . ohhhhh . . . ohh yeah . . . I . . . oh . . .oh . . . oh . . .” I thrust my hips upward frantically to meet his plunging cock and fantastically exploded in an orgasm that made me see stars. For a moment I thought I had blacked out. But I was conscious enough to keep Frank from cumming. I pulled his cock out and gripped it firmly, with my thumb applying pressure on the frenulum and my fingers squeezing the other side. “Sarah, wha…?” “Not yet, Frank. Please, not yet.” I struggled out from underneath him and got on top. He instructed me what to do. Straddle his groin and lower myself onto him until he’s inside. Lean my torso forward and rest my weight on my palms. Slowly straighten my legs so they’re together on top of his. Keep my toes pointed and our pelvises perfectly aligned. “Oh Frank . . . oh my . . . I … you . . . oh yeah . . . oh … ahhhh . . . ohhhh . . .” Jumping up off him, I got the Stay Erect desensitizing gel and liberally administered it to his throbbing penis. Then I gave myself a little dab will do ya of O’My O Clitoral Stimulating Gel. “What would you like to do next, Sarah?” “Fornicate, Father Frank, fornicate. Let’s try this—you lie flat on your back with your knees bent and legs spread apart. I’ll straddle you, facing your feet, and slowly lower myself onto your big dick, keeping my knees bent and my legs tucked under your legs tucked inside yours. Then I’ll lean back and support myself on my palms as I pump up and down. And I’ll fornicate you silly!” I couldn’t believe how quick he got on his back. Three hours later I lay exhausted on the couch, waiting for Frank to bring me a sandwich. I laughed when he handed me the tuna melt. Oh yeah, and he had really made my tuna melt. Big time. “What’s so funny now?” he inquired. “Your balls are blue, Frank.” “Well, you wouldn’t let me shoot my wad. You kept stopping me.” I picked up my cell phone and called Kimberly. “What’s the score?” I asked. “We’re done. Back at the apartment, studying and doing our assignments.” “What’s the fucking score, Kimberly?” I demanded. “Let’s see. I had eleven. Britney only had eight, after a fast start. I guess Larry petered out. And Ashley, a baker’s dozen—thirteen! How many do you have, Sarah, if any? You really seemed depressed last night, about not getting any.” “Shit happens, Kimberly.” I looked at my clicker. Fourteen. A pecker’s dozen. “Tell Ashley and Britney to stay the hell out of the bathroom in the morning until I’m finished with my shower. I don’t even care if you all have to pee. Hold it. Goodbye.” “Is everything okay, Sarah?” Frank inquired. “You seemed a little upset on the phone.” “No, no, everything is just fine. Sweet, in fact,” I added, fantasizing about a nice, long, hot shower first thing in the morning. “Frank, come here and let me take care of those blue balls for you. Uh . . . you know, I’m not sure I want that big cock of yours in my pussy again, I’m a little sore. But . . . I’ll bet you’d like a blow job, wouldn’t you? “ He nodded like a woodpecker. I knelt in front of him and stroked his cock with one hand, holding his balls in the other hand, as I flicked the tip of his cock with my tongue. I closed my mouth over the head and slid one hand up and down on the shaft as I fondled his family jewels with the other. I slowly sucked more and more of his meat down my throat. Then I reached around with the hand that had held his balls and put a finger in his crack, stimulating his prostate. “Oh God!” he screamed. “I’m going to heaven! This is the Rapture! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” he muttered deliriously as he grabbed me by the back of the head and tried to force it all in my mouth. I paused momentarily to say, “I didn’t think Catholics believed in the Rapture.” “I do now!” he replied, as he cupped my chin and shoved his cock between my lips again, and began to thrust frantically. “Oh my dear God!” he cried as I tilted my head back and popped him all the way down my throat, my nose nuzzled in his bush. And then his legs shook. I squeezed his butt cheeks and pulled them to me as he spasmodically shot his semen down my throat as his entire body shuddered. I held him in my mouth for many minutes, until the swelling began to go down. “Did you like that, Frank?” “I can’t even describe how much, Sarah. I’d like to please you again. With my mouth this time. My dick is a little limp at the moment.” “Aren’t you fluent in Latin?” “Yes, that I am.” “And ‘cunnilingus’ is a Latin word.?” “Yes, that it is.” I lay back down on the couch on my back. “Speak to me in Latin, Frank.” He began to lick, nibble, and kiss the inside of my thighs from my knees to my crotch. Softly, so softly. Gently, so gently. Oh my, I wanted so badly for him to put that wagging tongue of his right on my hot button. But no, he played with me a little longer. He began to lick my pussy from the entrance to my clit. His tongue was soft. He ran his tongue between my inner and outer labia on one side, while holding the two together with his lips. Then he did the other side. My moans got louder. He began to suck on my clit. Little sucks. Pulling on it and then letting it go. Just then the phone rang. Kimberly. “Hey Sarah, I just found out from Ashley that she had fourteen orgasms. She forgot about the one in the shower when the clicker wasn’t nearby.” I didn’t bother to reply. “Frank, please let me give you one more heart on ‘er I mean hard on. Be my valentine.” I started to suck him again and he soon became hard as a rock. I pulled him by the cock to me and clicked my clicker one more time as he entered me and pounded my pussy like a jackhammer until he screamed words that a priest should not use, at least not in church. Not as bad as what I shouted though. Winning (an orgasm marathon) is everything. You can’t fuck flowers and candy, now can you? |
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Terrific story
