I have always been a good wife and mother; but today, I'm the town whore. I'm sure this has happened before to other good wives and mothers, but not like it has here. Here is like no place you've ever been.
Shady Corners is a unique town settled by a tight-knit band of Mormon outcasts over one hundred years ago. They focused on the sensual side of scriptures, but polygamy wasn't their thing. They ended up forming their own religion that is still going strong today, but only in Shady Corners.
The men have been raised thinking that the right to a whore comes with a penis, and a woman of loose morals can't cry rape. The women were likewise raised to expect a husband to seek a whore to vent his lustful urges, and should a virtuous woman ever stray from the righteous path, she was fair game for any horny man. Good women procreate; they don't fuck. We evolved a system that works, but most people would find our system a bit odd.
We are a town of under five hundred souls, all churchgoers. We are all related in one way or another, because few outsiders ever moved here. Though we are extremely liberal in our views toward the oldest profession and sex in general, we are ultra conservative when it comes to infidelity, homosexuality, and incest. A wife has one hole used for procreation; whores have three for recreation. That's why the men need to visit a whore.
A man needs recreational sex, and for that, he uses a whore, finds a loose woman, or carries on affairs all without consequence or social stigma. Males have few rules were sex is concerned. Raping the innocent or incest are the only two that come to mind.
I have reason to believe that the practice of incest is widespread in our community. Behind closed doors, mothers are fucking their sons, fathers are fucking their daughters, and sibling fucking is epidemic. Incest was rampant when I was growing up, and I see nothing that would change that today. Karen has been my best friend from my earliest memories. Karen's first fuck was her father, and we both had sex with my mother. Karen and I both screwed our brothers and each other's brothers. And we weren't the only girls getting sex from within the family.
The taboo is real, though everyone violates it. Those who do so blatantly or openly get run out of town. Incest is a very secret and private affair which makes it so much more thrilling for the participants. The founding elders knew that and left us with the taboo to insure things stayed that way. They wanted recreational sex to be filthy dirty, that's why a married woman can only have straight sex with her spouse, and only to procreate.
Oddly, most women, including me, like it that way. Like incest, an extramarital affair is so much better when you are hard-up and horny and the risk is so great. One tiny slip and the woman is labeled a slut who cannot be raped; and although they don't run women out of town for committing incest, she undergoes a humiliating ritual punishment that lasts months and involves extreme nude binding in public gathering places where anything short of torture is permissible. Her torment ends only when she shows proof of pregnancy--90 days without a period.
This rarely happens. Few women are willing to take the risk, and those who do are extremely careful, but rarely will a year pass that some poor woman isn't dragged before the tribunal and interrogated at length along with her kids, other family members, and anyone close to her, any one of which could say something that would convince the elders serving on the tribunal. There is no due process, no civil rights. The elders are guided by the Holy Spirit toward the truth. Decisions are always unanimous.
Most women with kids in puberty have undergone this ordeal. I've been put through it twice, and I expect to be put through it twice more before all of my kids are grown and gone. One day, while I'm still fertile, I'll fail whether I've done anything or not.
This charade, and I think most everyone sees it as that, is a clever way to keep women barefoot and pregnant all through their productive years and one cannot discount the entertainment value. The tribunals are almost as entertaining and humiliating as the punishment ordeal that comes with a guilty verdict.
A woman undergoing interrogation is laid bare, physically as well as mentally. The tribunal can take days, even weeks, and is held in the church because the church assembly hall is the only place large enough to contain all who wish to bear witness. Some women, myself included, can pack the hall to the rafters. Forced to sit in a birthing chair mounted on the dais under extremely bright lights, arms bound securely behind the chair, the legs forced back and open in the extreme then strapped in place is laid bare in a way only a woman can appreciate.
Her vagina is the focal point, and everyone looks for signs of arousal as she is presented with photographs and drawings of lewd acts between adults and children. They also read pornographic passages, and often have her children do a sexy strip and pose before her--before everyone, but as we all know, those not on trial have only pure thoughts and see only an innocent child. Simulated sex acts between selected adults and her children are also a big hit. Girls have gotten pregnant from these simulated sex acts.
When that happens, it is an act of God, a blessing to the family. The senior male elder usually has the honor of blessing the family for God. My eldest daughter, Sonya, has been twice blessed, and I'm getting a little tired of it.
It is the physical evidence everyone can see that usually convicts. The ability to enter into a trance-like state, mentally reciting scripture or singing hymns, is a survival skill most women learn early on. Watching your sexy little girl get a thorough public screwing by a horny old codger, a woman needs to know her scripture inside and out, backwards and forwards. With Sonya, I needed to know Psalms in Hebrew.
The founding elders were also responsible for a town law that, in essence, says that a woman of loose moral character can not cry rape. The law provides that a man who responds to such a woman is following the dictates of nature and answering her call to mate. This may sound crazy to you, but we truly believe that to be true, and the men like it that way. As in all Mormon-based societies, men rule absolutely. Shady Corners women are always horny, but they are not easy. I think that is true of all Mormon women, but I'm just speculating. We've had no contact with the mother church since we broke away.
The men like having a town full of horny women, and the women adjust to being horny all the time. We women are not impossible to fuck, only difficult. When it happens, the experience is electrifying for both parties, and slip-ups insure a constant supply of sluts for the men to rape without recriminations. Furthermore, the husband of a fallen woman can be jailed for interfering with his wife's rapist or lover.
We also hold real rapists, those men who force themselves on decent women or children, to a rigid, unforgiving, standard. Men have been hanged by an angry mob for the rape of a child. The last case was twenty years ago. Whether that would hold true today is questionable, but no one wants to find out. No real rape of a child has occurred here in twenty years.
Those who grew up under this system, which is ninety-five percent of the population, protect the taboos and sex laws religiously. It is the basis of our culture, and it is all we've ever known. We see nothing hypocritical in the law, and it does work to keep our population base strong and vibrant, and we need that because our attrition is two or three times that of other rural communities located in the middle of nowhere. Were it not for The Law, we would have dried up and blown away decades ago. With it, we enjoy steady growth without industry or natural resources. We believe the founding elders were wise men inspired by God, and we all know that God is a man. I think he's a horny man and a voyeur, and I'm not alone.
Most of the gossip in town is about who is fucking whom, or which family members are fucking each other. Somehow, word always gets around. As long as the infidelity or incest can't be proved, and no one wants to look hard, the affairs go on. We feed on the gossip. We love juicy incest gossip. Without it, our town would be boring as hell; with it, the town is just boring.
The elders decide who needs a tribunal, and that doesn't seem to have any basis in rumor or innuendo. If anything, it has more to do with physical beauty in the mother or female children. I'll say this, we breed very attractive women this way. Beautiful women always have large families. My grandmother on my mother's side had twenty children before her womb petered out. I have enough uncles and aunts to form a good choir, though out of that twenty, only two still live in the area. I only see them at special occasions such as Christmas, Founder's Day, and my fucking tribunals.
As I said, attrition takes a heavy toll. Young people usually want to get out and see the real world. They rarely return except to visit. Fallen women, sluts, don't last long here. The rapes stop only if she turns pro, puts a red light on her porch, and starts charging. Taking sex from a professional whore without paying is theft.
The town needs a whore, a cheap whore, one who can service between fifty and one hundred men a week. The town's women recognize that fact of life. The nearest city of any consequence is a two hour drive. If we had no local whore, our men would be driving the two hundred mile round trip and spending good money to get laid. We cannot afford to have capital leave the community, and we are all aware of this fact. A steady capital drain can mean severe poverty. A cheap whore serves a community need and is tolerated. The whores live comfortably, though they live as outcasts.
We also recognize that such output will wear any normal woman down and render her sexual apparatus, shall we say, less than desirable. For that reason, if a town whore serves a term of two years, she can receive absolution--a clean slate--and return to her former life and social standing. In a way, it's like military service--serve well, you get honorably discharged; but unlike the service, if you serve poorly, you get run out of town.
The system is slowly eroding due to worldly pressures. Rarely do we have more than two whores working at the same time. Most of our whores tire out prematurely, get run out, or move away to where a whore can make better money for less work. We have gone through many dry stretches with no town whore. When that happens, every eye is looking for the next candidate.
Any indiscretion can bring the label. Once the slut label gets attached, the woman has no choice. She will either turn tricks for five bucks a pop, or she'll get raped ten times a day, or she'll leave town. No one feels sorry for the fallen angels, and the good church ladies can, once again, point her out and say, "See, children. See what becomes of those who stray from the righteous path."
The town's people tolerate lewdness by their whores. It gives the mothers something to point at while hustling away their kiddies; but more importantly, something to gossip about and masturbate to.
Whores are granted incredible liberty. We had one whore that would only fuck in public places. We've had whores that would walk downtown, buck assed naked, just because they could. When I was a young girl, there was a town whore that would only fuck a married man if his wife and kids watched. I got to see my father in action dozens of times, and I was just a toddler at the time.
Freedom like that is intoxicating. I knew, if I were the town whore, I would do all those things and more. Weather permitting, I would never wear clothes. That was one major reason I could never let myself slip.
Unleashing my inhibitions, with all the wickedness backed-up in my nasty closet, would make redemption following my stint as the town whore much more difficult if not impossible. The most brazen whores never lose their tarnish. I knew I'd be the most brazen whore Shady Corners ever saw if the whore in me ever got unleashed.
Sometimes, after a long dry spell, or after a long period without a town pussy and facing a dry spell with no new prospect in sight, a suitable woman was drafted into service. I have seen this happen twice, and both times were terrific. The memories of those draftees being drafted fueled my fantasy for years afterward.
The first occurred when I was twelve and just entering puberty. Even in our small school, talk of a new whore was on everyone's mind and lips. We all speculated as to who might be next, whose mother might be the next whore. Among the kids, it was almost an honor for your mother to be considered. My mother was everyone's top choice. I inherited my body and looks from her, and my father died in the war the year before. She had no man and we needed the money. Mom, however, was as good and wholesome a Christian woman as ever there was.
I'm sure the thought that she might serve the community on her back never crossed her mind. I had two younger sisters and a baby brother, and I'm sure the idea never crossed their minds either. Kids and grownups badgered me for dirt on her. Who was she fucking, they wanted to know? I told them she wasn't fucking anyone that I knew of. If she had been, I would have told. I wanted my mother to be the town whore. I needed new clothes, and I was dying to see naked men coming and going in my home. I wanted to see people fucking, especially fucking my beautiful, sexy mother. I had a crush on her, though I didn't recognize my feelings as such. I thought I just had a dirty mind.
Karen told me the town was talking about drafting my mother. I didn't know what that meant, but Karen set me straight. Drafting is an underhanded way of circumventing the law--helping nature they call it. In a draft, a reputable citizen makes a false charge of immoral conduct, and everyone goes along. For this to happen, unanimity among the church elders is a must. This is very rare, because we all have close relatives on the tribunal. My mother was obviously too tempting a morsel to pass up, and she was not likely to fall on her own.
Two days later, Karen said my mother had been charged before the council of elders. This made my mother a slut and meant that Mom would be raped repeatedly, daily, until she accepted her calling or moved away. We could not move. The house was all we had. We barely made ends meet. If they raped my mother, daily, she'd have to surrender eventually. I was all for it. Karen and I were as excited as two young teenage girls could be. We hovered near my mother after that, never letting her out of our sight except to go to school.
Our presence would not discourage any rapist. Men raped sluts with impunity. Men would rape her where they found her--in her home, in town, after church, anywhere. We waited three days before six men burst into our house and grabbed her. They ripped Mom's clothes off her in the living room. Me, Karen, three of my younger sisters, and my baby brother watched the whole thing. The men got naked and took turns. Four held her down, spread-eagled on the floor, as one fucked her and one stood ready to take his place.
Mom looked great, naked. Her pussy was wet before the first cock went in. She struggled through the first two fucks, while begging to be left alone. She pleaded with us kids to go away and not look. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. We were all eyes, especially when she began responding.
She stopped struggling while the third guy screwed her. After that, they placed her in the positions they wanted her in and she remained that way without being held. They fucked her ass, mouth, and pussy, and she fucked back. Each man screwed her twice, and two guys screwed her three times. For a woman who hadn't been screwed since the war, she took it quite well.
At one point, she had cocks in every hole with one in each hand. When they left, Mom was a spermy mess, sprawled on her back on the floor. She didn't even have the energy to move her legs together, so we all got a good long look at her gaping holes leaking sperm in a big puddle. Mom sobbed quietly, but still didn't close her legs. I got up and fetched a warm wash rag along with a bowl of warm water. I knelt at her hip and began wiping up the mess.
I started on her legs and moved up gradually, expecting her to take over before I reached her crotch. She still made no move to take over, and I was soon wiping the insides of her thighs, very near her pussy. Karen joined me, sitting at her other hip. We exchanged surprised looks, unsure how to proceed. I shrugged then lightly wiped Mom's pussy. Mom stopped whimpering and simply laid still.
Karen boldly reached in with the fingers of both hands and peeled open my mother's pussy for me. I couldn't believe my mother let her do this. Karen stretched the lips apart, exposing everything to our hungry eyes. Mom's abused hole gaped open and leaked sperm down the crack of her ass. I wiped that sperm, then wiped gently at her hole.
We were elated by our success. Like all kids, we pressed our luck. I wrapped the rag around my index finger and began stuffing the rag up her cunt hole while Karen toyed with her clit. I had most of the rag-covered finger inside before Mom said, "Don't. Just clean the outside, and do it quickly."
I pulled the rag out, making her groan, then dutifully wiped her off. We wiped her face, neck, and tits, then rolled her onto her stomach and wiped her ass for her. Karen, of course, took great pleasure in pulling my mother's ass cheeks apart, making Mom groan with embarrassment. I wiped her crack, then dabbed the rag at her abused anal rosebud. Karen smiled broadly the whole time, and we took our time. After a ten-minute ass wiping, Mom slowly got up and went off to take a shower without saying a word.
Men came in groups of four to six for the next three days. Mom got raped by forty-three different men in those three days. Karen and I saw thirty-two of them. Many returned every day and they all ejaculated in her or on her two times at least. Mom took in gallons of sperm. Karen and I insured that every cock got drained.
We assumed the role of whore assistants, and Mom simply went along. I think she was too mentally numb to protest. We cleaned her after every fuck, and began assisting the men during the fucks. We held her legs apart and guided cocks into her pussy and ass.
In fact, we did everything in our power to get the men hard again. We showed our budding tits and let them look at and feel our pussies. We did sexy strip tease dances and played with each other's bodies. Mom knew what we were doing, but said nothing about it during the performances or afterward.
On the fourth day, Mom gathered us kids together, Karen also. By then, we'd all seen her in action countless times. She told us she was giving up, surrendering. She said she would be the town whore, that she had no choice in the matter. Needless to say, Karen and I were elated.
Karen's Aunt Wilma served as the town whore for a three month stint. Karen served as her aunt's assistant and was seen as somewhat of an expert on the subject. Karen told Mom that as the town whore she had to shave her pussy and wear short skirts without panties, that her tits had to show through her blouses and she couldn't wear a bra, ever. Karen made this up, but Mom believed her. Karen then offered to fix her up properly. Mom reluctantly went along.
Karen convinced Mom that she had to have an assistant, and that two was even better. Mom was numb by this time. She never gave us the job, we simply assumed the role. Karen took charge, and I eagerly went along.
We stripped her naked and laid her on the table with her legs wide apart. We took turns shaving her pussy and took many liberties in the process. Mom resigned herself to letting us have our way with her, even with the other kids watching. After the shave, we finger-fucked her and rubbed her clit till she came. We all took turns fingering and even licking her pussy. Mom said nothing, even when we held the baby to her open crotch and got him to nurse on her clit.
She earned her first five bucks while still on the table. She gave her first paying customer his money's worth while we kids hovered over the scene with our little hands vying for space in her crotch.
Mom let Karen and I do whatever we wanted. We jacked off men as they waited for their turn. I jacked off cocks while Mom sucked on the head. I sucked on cocks until they were ready to shoot, then aimed the shooting cocks at her mouth, tits, or pussy. We even sucked the men hard again after they screwed her. Our efforts resulted in Mom getting more fucks then she would have otherwise.
We often participated in her screwing. Though we never got screwed, our cunts got in on the act. We liked to lie on the men's laps with their cocks sticking up between our legs. Mom sucked cock with our cunts sliding up and down the man's shaft. Sometimes, she'd kneel before us with the cock coming through our legs from behind. In this way, we got our pussies licked, or we rubbed off on her nose while she sucked a dick.
The men liked watching Mom eat our pussies. Many times they'd cum on our cunts. The men put the heads of their cocks in our cunts and jacked off, or had Mom jack them off with the cocks sticking just inside our cunts. Mom would have to lick all the cum off, and if any got inside, she'd lick it out while we held our legs wide apart for her.
We both liked getting sperm shot up our cunts, because Mom went crazy trying to lick and suck out every last sperm cell. The men got off on watching us rub our cunts in Mom's face while she tried to suck the cum out. We both got pregnant during Mom's two-year tenure, and Karen got pregnant twice. I would have, but I didn't become fertile until late in her second year.
Mom made a fairly rapid adjustment to whoring. She walked sexy, acted sexy, used the filthiest language, and instigated sex acts. Karen and I loved going downtown with Mom. She let us expose her body as much as we liked. She always got screwed when she went to town, and we drew the crowd. Before the first month was out, everyone in town had seen my mother naked and fucking, and they'd also caught our act.
Children of the town whore had special dispensation to be sluts, but couldn't be treated like sluts in that men couldn't rape us with impunity, nor could they hire our services. We couldn't be whores if we wanted to, and we did. The dispensation simply meant we could do as we pleased. The church turned a blind eye on the innocent caught up in perversity, but only for the duration of that perversity. That was a major factor in our desire to see Mom get the nod, because that gave us the nod.
Karen didn't actually qualify, but she was like a member of our household at that time, and no one made an issue of it. She was too cute to make an issue of. She had tits and everything, nice ones, too. We just assumed her dispensation and got away with it. Two of my younger sister also took advantage, but they were six and eight when Mom got drafted. They started slow. It took months before they'd get naked with us and do everything we did. The other sister was just a toddler and was naked most of the time anyway.
Mom remained the only town whore for six months until a teacher at our school got caught fucking a student. Still, we were more popular because her kids were males or girls too young to be of much interest. Late in the second year, another came on board, making three working whores, the ideal, but not for me and Karen. With us involved as deeply as we were, it was like having five working whores, and there's just not enough hard dicks to go around if two are insatiable and one whore, the new one, was a volunteer that was much in demand. Karen and I did all two naked and pregnant teens could do to lure cocks to our door.
Mom returned to an almost normal life when her two years was up, after her absolution ceremony. Overnight, she reverted to her old self and her old ways, as though snapping out of a trance. The old home order returned over night. Karen and I went through withdrawal and slipped into a deep funk. The town's folk were tired of our lewd antics by that time and the old biddies watched us like hawks. When Mom remarried, three years later, she remained faithful to her husband. As far as I know, she did.
Mom never even got called before a tribunal, so I never got blessed. The men were still tired of us even in my late teens. I did, however get knocked up twice more while in school and graduated with three kids--two girls and a boy. That was pretty much par for the course for decent looking girls. Girls could fuck other kids as long as they weren't closely related--no brothers or first cousins.
We called them sanctioned fucks, and all community sponsored events for teens were geared to pairing up sanctioned partners. These were great, because they promoted lewdness and promiscuity among horny teens, and it doesn't take much to get teenagers to be promiscuous and lewd. Elders ran these functions in private settings, usually in the church hall or school gym, and the best way to describe one is an orchestrated and closely directed orgy.
Girls and boys were eligible after entering puberty, and any single males under twenty-five could attend, and they were welcome from anywhere. Drifters passing through were invited. Migrant field hands from nearby communities were invited. Young truckers stopped at the diner were invited.
The mix was often three to one, male to female, with young adult male guests outnumbering our boys two to one. The purpose was to introduce outside bloodlines and lure men to marry and settle in the community. My biological father was a trucker. Karen's father was a Mexican farm hand. My next sister's father was an Indian.
A regular dance, usually held once a month, would typically have the twenty girls and forty boys with all twelve elders in attendance. Beforehand, the girls were interviewed to find out who was menstruating and which ones were fertile. Girls on the rag were never selected, and fertile girls were always selected and singled out for special treatment at the dance/orgy. Screwing a fertile girl until she couldn't walk was the main event. The others got screwed, but it was the fertile girls that took the cum shot.
These special events always started as a dance with the elders watching the natural pairings, seeing who liked whom and which girls got most of the attention. This would go on for over an hour, and then the games would begin. They'd select girls, the prettiest and most popular to fill out the ranks of those preselected to arrive at eight. Karen and I did great in pairings, but did poorly in these selections until our last two years when we never missed a selection.
The games centered on the selected girls with the males and unselected girls being spectators. The selected girls were pitted against each other in lewd contests designed to appeal to the interests of the males, appealing to their visual desires. Exposure was a big theme, and the games began with two opposing teams who's challenge was to totally strip the other.
The guys loved it. The winners got to sit on their opponent's chests and draw their legs apart to show their pussies to the spectators. Very often, the winners weren't much better off and you'd have a naked girl on your chest with her butt in your face.
We think we invented nude mud wrestling. In our town, that goes way back. In our version, the loser got fucked by a dog. Since the contest went on until there was only one left standing, seven of the eight got publicly screwed by a dog while covered in mud. Bestiality was another major taboo. Dogs were not allowed in the community, but the elders kept a pack just for this special humiliation. They were used extensively on women who failed a tribunal.
To be mated to a dog was the ultimate degradation, the ultimate punishment for a woman, and her greatest humiliation--or so men believed. In truth, every female who came up through the system has been screwed by a dog, in public, covered in mud, countless times. For some, it was a monthly event all through their latter school years, and I think they would all agree that getting royally fucked in public by a big dicked mutt was the ultimate sexual experience. Losing a mud wrestling contest without looking like you threw the match was the greatest challenge, and the one left standing was the real loser.
This fact was our most closely guarded secret. We dare not even discuss it except under the most secure conditions, and even then, only with those you trusted absolutely, and never with any male regardless of how close you were. Wives never discussed this with husbands.
Mothers did discuss this with daughters and at a very early age. You had to. In a culture where you never saw a dog except under the most bizarre of circumstances, in a bestial coupling with a bound and beaten, pissed on and shit-smeared poor unfortunate woman in a public spectacle, a young girl had to know, "What was that, Mommy?"
I distinctly remember seeing my first dog at the age of five, and he was fucking the shit out of my Aunt Whilma in a large crowd outside Drucker's Dry Goods. She was on all fours, covered in filth, naked, bound to a post with a rope around her neck, and this huge beast with an angry red cock was clutched to her waist and hammering that big cock into her shaved pussy with everyone cheering the beast on and calling her filthy names.
Three other beasts were waiting for their turn. We stood and watched all four screw her, and Mom was as excited as the others, and she was yelling stuff, too, and she even took some mud and threw it at her sister, calling her an incestuous slut and a bitch, and she liked Whilma. Aunt Whilma wasn't a slut. She was my Sunday School teacher, and real nice.
I left that scene very confused. I thought I saw demons in the flesh fucking a helpless angel. I always thought of Aunt Whilma as an angel without wings, frail and fair, a fairy princess. To say I was shocked at what I'd seen was a gross understatement.
Mom took me to a quiet place and she got real serious, made me swear never to tell a soul, then told me about the ultimate sexual experience that no man must ever know about or they'll get rid of all dogs, and if that ever happened, the women would have nothing but shame and degradation to deal with when they were found guilty at a tribunal, and that sooner or later, every woman had to go through what Whilma went through, and she'd go through it, too, and I would too, and without the dogs, it would be pure hell, but with the dogs it was worth it and something most women looked forward to, Whilma included.
She then went on to explain that this was Whilma's third time in two years, very unusual, but she got to go three times because she was so pretty and sexy and they all thought she hated it so much. The mud throwing and name calling was to help her get a fourth condemnation from the tribunal.
And then she explained the other reason.
Husbands punished their wives by placing dog collars on them and making them wear the collar in public. I had seen that, but didn't know what it meant. On any given day, one in ten married women, five on average, were wearing collars, and these women had to report to the kennel master of the elders twice each day for breeding.
They had to report there in the nude after leaving their clothes in the church, and the kennel was two blocks away. Rain, snow, sleet, it didn't matter. All they could wear was galoshes and only if snow was on the ground. What made it worse was the school was between the church and the kennel. They could go around it or through it, but going around added three more blocks either way you went. Going through meant they had to enter the building and walk a long corridor with classrooms in session on both sides and the classrooms all had windows on the hall.
This was all part of the grand design, and kids in school had a constant distraction as nude women wearing collars walked through nice and clean and returned filthy and fucked with dog cum from crotch to heels and big muddy paw prints all over them. Muddy hands and knees with paw prints on the back meant she got it doggie style. A muddy back with paw prints on the chest meant she took it like a missionary lady. It was left up to them, so everyone knew how a woman liked to get fucked--by dogs, anyway.
Kids saw their mothers and grandmothers come and go twice each day. Mothers would see their kids. Some could look in every room and see a kid of theirs. Outsiders passing through saw nothing unusual. We had a service station and truck stop out on the highway, but no motel. There was nothing to see or do in Shady Corners, so even the downtown area was safe from outsiders. If it wasn't, they flew a special banner from the flag pole in the town square. I've seen it fly maybe a dozen times in my life. When it flew, everyone behaved themselves and whores laid low.
I wasn't in school yet, so I didn't know about the nude women in collars. I thought it was kinda neat. So did Mom. She told me that my father liked putting a collar on her and would do so for no reason other than he thought she needed to be taken down a peg or two. She loved going through the school, before and after, and liked getting fucked both ways each time she reported. Since she always serviced at least two, changing positions was no problem. When she had a large crowd watching, she liked getting on her back because they could see her pussy better and see the dog dick working in it.
That was another thing, anyone could stop by the kennels and watch the women mating. People often made it a point to stop by. The pens were outside, but the mating arena was inside and had good seating all around and close to the action, room for two bitches and two dogs in the muddy pit.
With five women in collars on average, and required to report twice each day during school hours, there was usually someone fucking and someone waiting. If one was almost through, the other would wait, but on busy days, two or more might be waiting and they'd double up in the arena, fuck a couple of mutts, then be released.
The kennel master looked after thirty animals, so they rarely ran out. Each dog was good for four cums a day if necessary. To keep spectators amused, he would keep bringing dogs until someone else showed up. On lean days, a woman might be there for hours and fuck a dozen or more before relief arrived. Mom waited for lean days to be bad.
She'd come home and complain bitterly, in tears, describing her terrible ordeal, the humiliation she suffered, describing the people who came to watch, the things they said, the mud they threw, the kennel master who prodded her with his stick, making her fuck back and debasing her to no end, describing each filthy beast and how she had to mate with him, and those awful teachers who would call her into a classroom of grinning students to have her tell what she'd done to warrant such punishment, and how she was forced to make things up because she'd been the perfect wife.
She'd give my father an erection which he'd take to a whore. As soon as he left, she'd smile, because the collar would remain on another day and times were lean. She only had to share the thirty with two other naughty wives.
That was why the men must never know how we women really feel about the dogs. She then explained how the women all worked together to put up a good front. Heaping humiliation on women in collars was one way. Telling tales on each other was another. The most important was to always show shame and dread at the prospect of getting a collar placed on your neck, and most importantly of all, never to reveal the pleasure you receive while getting the best sex ever, to turn an expression of pure bliss into a twisted face of abject humiliation while having a climax. And then we practiced, and then we went to the kennels and saw how well it worked with other women.
Aunt Whilma was the best, so before going home, we stopped by to see her, and she'd just started another round, only now she was in the park, pulled backward over a stump. She had a larger crowd and six dogs in waiting with one mounted. Her family was there, all eight kids and daddy. You'd swear she was dying a thousand deaths and all the while she was having multiple orgasms, even while her oldest daughter rubbed shit in her face. No wonder she wore a collar all the time. That angel was a bitch. I knew her ten-year-old daughter had that all important birds and dogs talk. She was good.
After that lesson, I was all set to pick up mud and join in. We stuck by Aunt Whilma all through her terrible ordeal that lasted four months. You watch enough dog fucking and you're hooked. My first experience was everything I hoped it would be, and a dog took my cherry. You couldn't make me win a mud wrestling contest after that, and to go unselected was a terrible blow. That was the price Karen and I paid for two years of special dispensation, and quite frankly, I'm not sure it was worth it.
The dances were a spectacle of bestial sex, because nothing turns our guys on like watching sexy young girls getting raped by a beast. The games were just another selection process to determine who got dog screwed. The dogs were the main event, and lasted for hours with each girl getting her turn on center stage. This was no wham bam thank you mam dog fuck. These bestial couplings were carefully orchestrated events.
Before a new girl was allowed to attend a dance, she was counseled by the elders to go willing and enthusiastically into this humiliating union as a show of good sportsmanship and to carry on a long standing tradition. She was to be entertaining and they explained how in great detail. The assumption was that she'd lose and it was a good assumption. All new girls got selected and all lost in the mud. After all, they were the youngest going against juniors and seniors. No senior could fake a loss to a twelve-year-old girl, so any new girl knew she would be getting publicly fucked by a dog.
As an added incentive to put on a good performance, the girl who earned the least marks from the audience was stripped and whipped at a school assembly, one with the entire student body of two hundred, all fifteen teachers, with all parents and grandparents invited--pretty much the entire town showed up for a whipping after a dance.
We'd all grown up seeing them, one every single month, and no girl in her right mind wanted to undergo one. These whippings were real, and executed in the most humiliating position. The girl was suspended by her wrists, four feet off the stage with her legs drawn out to either side in the mid-air splits, and the whip was a real whip that hit hard on very tender parts and left its mark for days afterward. The vagina was the favorite target, and a strike that brought the tip around a hip to strike dead center on the clit would bring the audience to its feet in a howling cheer that could not drown out the girl's scream. A girl got one hundred lashes and could expect ten to be clit strikes. When cut free, she'd have to be carried off the stage.
The elders were very serious about their breeding program, and the selected girls knew damn well they'd better make those boys hot and horny or her cunt would suffer. The elders' counseling session told them what the boys wanted to see, and the boys wanted to see a slut for the mutts, a bitch in heat, a shameless dog lover with an insatiable appetite for dog cock and dog semen.
She was then warned that the other girls were seasoned and practiced, very good, so she'd have to go out of her way to best any one of them. She was advised to shave her pussy and begin practicing taking large objects into her ass and cunt, then shown a large cucumber and suggest something on that order as all the dogs were at least that long and almost as thick. Girls left that session on weak legs and had thirty days to be ready. I was ready going in.
Once paired with her mate, it was up to the girl to do her routine. The great part about this whole setup was that we could pull out all stops and act the way we really felt. Anyone seeing our act would assume we were trying to avoid the whip. Mothers coached their daughters in putting on a good act. Grandmothers helped. They all brought valuable experience to bear, and the dog acts, honed over decades, had to be the most carnal bestial acts ever to be witnessed by man.
Even a young virgin who had never touched a dog could waste one in under an hour, doing everything imaginable, and doing it in the most vulgar and visual way one can imagine. Throat fucking a dog was no big deal. Dancing while holding your dog up on hind legs with his cock up your cunt was child's play. Getting over your dog with him on his back, holding onto his hind legs while squatting on his dick and fucking yourself was a yawner.
To get good marks, you had to stand in a squat with your head so far back between your legs that you could suck on his balls while he fucked you in the ass. That's what I did, and I still got whipped.
After every girl did her act, and all dogs were drained and wasted, the bitches hosed off and thoroughly douched, the dance resumed, only now everyone, including elders were naked. Dancing was fucking on your feet, and each girl had a ring of guys waiting to cut in. Gallons of semen washed through cunts, ran down legs, and puddled on the hardwood floor. It wasn't long until we danced on a slippery floor, slip sliding away, and those who fell got fucked on a slimy floor. Dances were fun; whippings were no fun.
Typically, we'd have thirty girls and eighty men/boys on a Founder's Day Dance. The Founder's Day Dance was the biggie, and any girl ovulating over the three-day Founder's Day weekend was as good as pregnant because her womb was restricted to guests who were invited to screw her at will where they found her, and she had to remain in the public domain for the entire seventy-two hours.
Founder's Day was the one day a single woman could turn slut, but she had to register two months in advance and undergo the tracking of her monthly cycle along with the school girls who all had to undergo tracking. To be a pony, you had to be ovulating, and no cheating was allowed. The elders saw to that.
Each day for the two months prior to Founder's Day, every pubescent girl and all registered single women had to strip naked and present their pussies before a panel of three elders, there to be examined for signs of menstruation. Period durations and vaginal temperatures were recorded and the fertility cycle was tracked this way. Only pregnant girls were excused, and with half the girls being pregnant at any given time, we were usually ten in number with another ten single women filling the ranks. Out of that twenty, they'd get three or four ponies--five if they were lucky.
The rest of us were thrown to the dogs, and that meant you were paired up for the duration of Founder's Day. You wore a grass skirt and a collar, and that's it. Your collar was connected to the dog's collar with a six-foot leash. Where you went, he went; or you went where he went in some cases. When the dog wanted to fuck, he fucked you. It didn't matter where. You could be in your own home enjoying a Founder's Day Dinner with the whole fam damily, if he got horny, you got down and took care of him.
You're probably wondering, what's the deal with the grass skirts? Well, as in many handed down traditions, the ones who started it had good reasons. As time goes on, people forget and simply follow tradition for tradition's sake. In this case, we still have a clue.
Joshua Abbot, head of one of our seven founding families did a tour as a missionary for the mother church way back in the late 1960's. His area was some island in the exotic South Pacific, which back then was like some mythical land of paradise. He returned singing the praises of the bare-breasted white women that wore only grass skirts. That became a symbol of female beauty, that and long hair. In addition to placing collars on a naughty wife, some men shave their wife of all body hair, and that is the first thing done to a woman found guilty of incest. They strip her of beauty and throw her to dogs.
Fertility is highly valued in our culture. Ovulating females are elevated; women unable to conceive are worthless. The tradition of making the fertile females ponies special, then casting all others to the dogs is symbolic. They aren't really punishing us as persons because we couldn't regulate our fertile cycle to conveniently fall on Founder's Day. We are simply representing nonfertile women in general. It just looks and feels exactly like you as a person are being thrown to the dogs--boy does it. Thank God they no longer shave us.
Interestingly, the dogs stem from the island connection. Many of the women brought into the early church were girls brought from the islands. They had never seen a dog and were terrified of them. Sooner or later, some bright guy with a hard dick got the idea to put the two together, and it must have been good, because it has been the ultimate degradation ever since. All I can say is, thank god.
Ponies were easy to spot because she was naked with a shaved pussy and a horse's tail butt-plug hanging from her ass. They were called ponies, and you could not fuck a pony in the ass or the mouth, and local boys couldn't get any pony pussy either. I've been a pony twice, and I'll take the life of a pony any day. It's the only way to get knocked up--fucked to within an inch of your life by real men.
I say real men to differentiate them from the home grown variety. Our men are worthless in bed. You can't get a decent lay from a man raised in our culture. To them, a woman is a thing to fuck, and their needs are all that matters. Ponies know the difference.
Many women in our society can count their adult fucks by counting heads around the dinner table. At best, you fucked once a month from puberty until you got married, usually at sixteen, certainly by eighteen. From then on, unless you put a stint in as a whore, cheated, committed incest, or was condemned as an incestuous adulterer, women only got screwed to conceive a child. Hey, it's a tough life on women. After marriage, it's a dog's life. Take away the dogs, and it's no life at all. Had they never put a mutt on an island girl, our culture never would have survived one generation.
You may get the impression that there was a great deal of sex going on in our day to day lives, but I misled you if that's the case. Most sex occurs in school functions and only for a few of those school years. For girls, usually three to five years of once a month intense orgy, then twenty-nine days of total abstinence. We didn't date, ever, and having sex out of a sanctioned activity was a major sin that earned a whipping and a severe chastity belt that remained on for a full year. No dances, no masturbation, no nothing. If you wanted pussy off of little Sally, you had best use a gun.
As I explained before, women went without rather than risk being forced into whoring. Having to service fifty of our men was nobody's idea of a fun time. The worst part of whoring was losing any chance of getting a collar. Even a single woman, divorcee, or widow could have a collar slapped on her by the elders for breaking one of our fifty rules for women, governing everything from dress to words they couldn't use.
Whores had no rules and no husbands. Whores never went to the kennels, and that was the bitch about serving as a whore. It damned near killed my mother. She was forever getting in trouble with the elders and spent more time in a collar than out, even after her hubby died. She got to where she was almost as good as Aunt Whilma.
The next draftee didn't happen until I was grown and married two years to Ray. Many of the men remembered me from my youth, and remembered what a hot and horny, nasty little shit I was. Talk circulated about me being the next whore, but Ray wasn't into having his new wife serving as the town whore in those days. Faithful and happily married women with families were never drafted. I was faithful and happy, so that pretty much left me out of the running. At the time, I was ready. Steve was a baby, so kids were not an issue. Ray, however, would not hear of it and got pissed because I mentioned a willingness to serve the town until a suitable whore could be found.
What followed was one of the longest dry spells on record--eighteen months. I was as eager as the rest of the wives to find a local whore. There was always talk of a draft after that first year, but no unanimity could be reached. Mom was on the elder's council by then and managed to block any draft. Ray was spending us into the poor house making twice weekly trips to the city for expensive pussy--fifty bucks a shot, plus the gas and wear and tear on our old car.
That's when we got a new preacher and he had a wife, a gorgeous young thing--blond, blue-eyed, built but petite, a real sexy doll. She had every dick in Shady Corners hard from the day she arrived. She looked like a goddess, an angel even more angelic that Whilma. She had the fairest skin and sweetest personality. She hailed from California, and she looked like a movie star to us.
Shady Corners rarely had a real preacher. Our religion had no formal doctrine. The religion was more an attitude backed by civic laws. The church was more like a community meeting place, a social ritual. We had the Bible, but the good book was rarely used in our services, or rarely used by someone who knew it well. We tossed out the Book of Mormon when Salt Lake excommunicated us. Any preacher would do, so if a Christian ministry offered to send us a preacher, we accepted. If he lasted a week, we were thrilled.
The preacher was a young man, fresh from divinity school on his first preaching assignment, eager to establish himself. They were newlyweds and in love. The town was infatuated with them, but turned on its ear by the beauty and sexy innocence of Stephanie, the preacher's wife. We talked of nothing else but what a terrific whore Stephanie would make. The special flag flew for weeks.
Stephanie wasn't in town a week when she was raped, a real rape by a local business man who lost control and dragged her into the back room of his dry goods store. There, John kept her bound in the stockroom all afternoon while he and his clerk raped her repeatedly. Had it happened to anyone but Stephanie, he'd have been charged and, at least, run out of town. No one could blame him, so nothing came of it.
We were surprised she avoided rape as long as she did. She did not wear the drab, shapeless, full cover dresses that we decent ladies wore. Hers may have been modest by California standards, but were borderline slut attire by our standard simply because her knees showed. No one advised her to get a new wardrobe. Since Stephanie dressed in rather sexy dresses, we rationalized the rape was justified. In other words, she was asking for it.
The preacher reported this multiple rape to the town constable. The constable took Stephanie into a room with two deputies and they raped her while the preacher waited anxiously in the next room, unaware of what was going on. When they emerged an hour later with the preacher's sullen, worn-out wife, the preacher's jaw dropped. The fact that she'd been repeatedly raped was evident in the rivulets of sperm soaking both legs. Besides that, she had sperm running down her neck and caked in her lovely hair.
The men told the preacher they searched every inch of his wife and found no evidence of rape. They convinced the preacher not to press charges. Two days later, she was raped in her own home by two men posing as power company workers checking a short. This rape was reported as well, only the preacher went alone. This, too, was dropped to keep peace in the community.
We all thought they'd pack it in and leave, but they remained. She hid for several days following the last rape. The preacher barred his doors and windows, turning their modest home into a fortress. She had to come out on Sunday.
That Sunday, my husband, Ray, John (the business man that first raped her), and the two men from the county maintenance crew that posed as power company workers, decided they were going to get her in church. When I heard this, I wanted in. I taught a Sunday school class to the preteens ages ten through twelve, boys and girls together. Stephanie made the rounds of the Sunday school classes, handing out candy and prizes to the best students.
When Stephanie entered my room, four men entered after her. She looked adorable, dressed in the prettiest white dress, modestly cut in length and covering her chest to the neck. She was a vision of feminine loveliness and nervous as a cat in the dog pound when she realized who the men were that followed her in. Twelve kids turned eyes on her as she nervously backed away from the familiar men, Ray being the only one unfamiliar to her in the biblical sense.
She let out a gasp on recognizing John, the man who first raped her. She clutched her chest when she recognized the other two. She stood trembling with her back to the front wall as the men converged on her. I got up and went to the door, latching the lock and placed a poster over the small window. When Stephanie saw me do this, her face went ashen. She cried, "No, Dear Lord, no! Not here, for God's sake! I'll scream. I swear, I'll scream!"
I took a seat by the door and watched along with the kids as the four men made a lunge for her. Ray got behind her and quickly cupped a hand over her mouth as the three others ripped her dress to shreds. They tore everything off and even removed her shoes. While Ray pinned her arms back by the elbows, another man stuffed her panties in her mouth. He taped her panties in place using masking tape from my desk. He then stepped aside to give us a good look at her naked body as Ray placed her on display.
The frightened, mortified woman looked terror-stricken at this outrageous affront to her modesty before all those kids. Her firm, pink nippled titties were stretched taut by Ray's tight arm-pinning grip. She tried to crouch and cross her legs to shield her pussy from the many eyes trying to see between her legs. Her light blond muff hid little. When the two maintenance men each took a leg and made a wish, there was nothing left to hide. We saw what she shows her pussy doctor. Her slit became a pink oval with a bright shiny clit at the top and a pristine hole at the bottom. Despite her struggles and muffled protestations, her pussy looked wet and receptive to me.
As John removed his pants, the two men holding her legs wide to each side freed their hard cocks. She was actually being supported by her legs held in the splits position with Ray balancing her in back.
Ray took his cock out as well. He reached around and ran his free hand down her front to her pussy. He played with her exposed sex, rubbed her clit, and finger-fucked her hole. This caused her great distress as the kids took seats on the floor in a tight semi-circle centered on her crotch, their eyes glued to her tormented pussy.
She looked down on their grinning, upturned faces, her eyes wide, her brow wrinkled. We then saw Ray's shiny cock head come slithering through her cunt lips from the rear, picking up her vaginal wetness as her eyes focused on the head of Ray's cock, watching the shiny, wet crown appear and recede in total disbelief. He used his hand to liberally coat his dick with her oily secretions, then drew back and centered his cock at her asshole.
We couldn't quite see his cock at her asshole, but her eyes told us it was there, pushing in. We saw Ray's loins slowly close the distance to her ass cheeks as her eyes crossed and her brow wrinkled in anguish. John was ready with his nine-inch hardon. He stepped between her legs and fitted the big head between her cunt lips. He slid in easily to the balls and both men began fucking her, front and rear.
The two men holding her legs had her doing the splits in mid air as the cocks buffeted her two holes. Her eyes told the story of a growing passion overwhelming her. She forgot where she was and who was watching. She frequently looked down her body to watch the cock going in and out of her pussy. Ray released her arms in order to grip her by the hip bones for deeper thrusts into her ass.
At first, she didn't know what to do with her hands, but soon brought them up and placed them on John's shoulders. She didn't push him away, her hands gripped, holding herself steady for the double fucking. Ray tore the tape from her mouth and pulled the panties out. She didn't scream. All she did was grunt and moan.
We watched them fuck for ten minutes. Ray was first to reach his climax. He is a silent cummer, but she reacted to the warm jets shooting up her ass. She let out several "Ohs" then came when John stepped up the pace and sent his seed deep in her womb. She tried to conceal her climax, but she wasn't very successful. Her head lolled about on her shoulders as she bit her lower lip and groaned. A dead give away was that she used her cunt to milk his spend from his motionless cock.
Ray's cock had slipped from her ass so she had complete freedom to move forward and back. Using her hands for support, she did just that, clearly fucking herself on John's spent cock. The kids had all gathered at John's feet, looking up at the pussy sucking sperm from his still hard cock. Stephanie was oblivious as she brought her cunt out to the tip and then sent it back to press into his pubic bush. She did this repeatedly as his cock gave forth semen that steadily dripped from her sliding pussy.
I got behind her and took over from Ray. I cupped her ass cheeks to urge her on, telling her, "Milk that cock before he loses his erection. Get all that sperm inside your hot pussy where it belongs."
It was like old times again with Mom. Like Mom, the preacher's wife responded and stepped up her efforts. My hands had difficulty keeping up with the motion of her ass. I stood looking down on the scene, peering over her shoulder, knowing the view from below was even better.
The kids had an even better view when John pulled his cock out and a flood of semen plopped out onto the floor, then dripped steadily from her widely-gaping holes. The guys were content to hold her in this obscene pose, so I took her by the tits for support as John stepped away. I got my lips over her right ear and softly whispered as I rolled her hard nipples in my fingers, "You're a hot cunted little bitch, aren't you? You sure showed these kids how to suck a dick with your pussy."
She moaned, in part from despair and part from residual lust. I reached down her front with both hands, bringing them into her wet maw. I played with her wet sex lips, fingered her sensitive clit, then hooked my fingers in her hole and pulled out in opposite directions, saying, "Let's give the kiddies a good look up your pussy."
Twelve sets of eyes starred up from below. Stephanie looked down on their faces and moaned in anguish. I said, "You like showing your pretty cunt, don't you? Don't worry, you'll get plenty more opportunities. Every Sunday you'll come in here and do a sexy strip, then masturbate while telling them your nasty fuck stories. You're going to have plenty of fuck stories to tell, too. You will not remain barricaded in your home this week. You want to get out and about. You'll find a way. Your hot little pussy likes the wildlife of Shady Corners, doesn't it?"
I expected a protest from her, but she said nothing in response. If anything, she appeared resigned and defeated. Again, she reminded me of my mother when she finally accepted her fate. Stephanie became as docile and accommodating as Mom had.
We set her on her feet, then had her stand in profile to the kids with her feet wide. I leaned her forward at the waist as the two guys that had been holding her legs got ready. One stepped in front and stuck his cock in her face. He rubbed the head on her lips and she opened her mouth. She sucked him in and used her hands on his cock and balls.
The other man got behind her and entered her cunt. She sucked hard on the cock while the other pounded her sloppy pussy. Her hanging tits looked adorable, so I got on my knees and milked them, making the kids laugh. She ground her loins on the cock in her pussy, while deep sucking and jacking off the one in her mouth. Her body sucked cum from two cocks and she climaxed in the process.
After that, we laid her on my desk on her back then moved away as the kids converged on her from every angle. Twenty-four hands roamed her body and probed every orifice. We laid her in a wide spread-eagle, and she remained that way throughout the ten minute group grope.
After those kids finished with her, she had no inhibitions. We laid her on the floor in a circle of kids. Ray got on his knees with his hard cock bobbing over her mound. Stephanie lifted her pussy and captured his cock with it. She fucked herself on his cock as Ray stayed still. She took each man in turn the same way and frigged her clit while doing it. Watching her fuck those men was the most erotic sight I'd ever witnessed, and it was all I could do to keep from frigging myself.
When the last man finished, Ray wanted one more ass fuck. Stephanie dutifully got on her hands and knees and laid her shoulders to the floor, sticking her ass up while reaching back to pull her cheeks apart. The kids gathered at her ass to watch Ray's cock pry its way into her colon. Her sphincter appeared to be chewing Ray's cock as it entered. She kept her cheeks pulled apart for the kids to see better. When Ray came, he pulled out and squirted her ass and cunt with his spend. While she held this position, John screwed her in the cunt, but pulled out and shoved his cock up her ass when he came.
The other two received blow jobs while sitting in chairs with Stephanie kneeling at their feet. She knew how to suck cock while giving the best visual spectacle. She drew off for the cum shots and lapped at the spurting cocks, taking most of their load in her face. When she drained the last cock, she sat back on her heels in a submissive pose, awaiting instructions, allowing the sperm to run down her face to drip on her tits, licking at any within reach of her tongue while massaging sperm into her nipples.
I told her to masturbate, and she reclined on her back with her legs wide, giving us the most obscene demonstration using both hands. When Sunday School let out, we all walked out, leaving her in the room with her tattered clothing, her body drenched in sperm.
Stephanie was raped almost daily after that, but they never filed any more complaints. The following Sunday, Stephanie appeared in my room shortly after we began. She had that submissive look, the same look she had when I told her to masturbate. I went over and locked the door. I hung the poster over the window and led Stephanie to the front of the class. I took a seat off to the side and waited expectantly.
Stephanie had a full rosy blush but planted her feet wide and began swaying to imaginary music. She slowly, sensuously lifted her dress showing us she wore no panties. She then unfastened the dress and slipped it off her shoulders. She tossed the dress on the floor and removed her slip, then her bra. She stood naked in her heels and began massaging her tits and playing with her pussy. I let her get good and warmed up, then brought a chair for her to sit on. She took the seat and gave us a wide-spread beaver.
Stephanie told us, in the most vulgar and graphic terms, about her eight rapes that week. She brought herself to three orgasms in the telling, admitting that she liked getting raped, and that there would have been more but her husband kept her under close scrutiny.
She did the same thing the following Sunday, but entered the room with one of the men who raped her that week. His daughter was in the class. After Stephanie did her act and recounted her adventures, they screwed for us. Marty was hung like a horse, and she took him in all three holes. As a suck and fuck show, I have never seen better.
After the performance, she took a seat and said, "Yesterday, after arriving home at ten in the morning, having spent the entire night with Marty at his house, I sat my husband down and we had a long talk. He first wanted to know where I'd been and what happened. I told him exactly where I was and everything I'd done. I told him I was abducted and raped all night long. For good measure, I told him that I awoke this morning, in bed between Marty and his wife. In the morning, I woke Marty up and asked if he wanted to rape me again as I needed to return home. Needless to say, my husband was speechless.
"I told him that the rapes would continue as long as we remained. He knew this, but didn't want to accept that fact. We must finish this year, rape or no rape, I said. I told him what I learned about how this town needs a whore to keep the men from squandering their meager savings, and that the church would suffer first when the money was tight. I told him they wanted me to be that whore and the rapes were making their choice a reality. He reluctantly agreed. I told him I was willing to serve this community as its whore for our term here, and that, in a way, I saw this as doing my Christian duty. Surprisingly, he said he saw it that way as well.
"And then I told him what the collars were all about. Marty took me to the kennels early this week and I've been back everyday since. That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life, but I understand how this is part of your culture. Helping my husband understand took quite a while, but he was trained not to interfere in any culture he served in. Once he came to accept that this was a cultural thing, he was okay with it. In fact, he wanted to see for himself.
"We went together on Friday and spent most of the day there. He never wanted me more in his life, but Marty showed up right as we were leaving. I went with Marty. My husband watched me walk away from him with Marty's hand up the back of my dress and deep inside my panties. That had to be sheer torture for him as horny as he was at that time.
"Naturally, I was thrilled. After what happened here the last few Sundays, I wanted nothing more than to be this town's whore, openly, and honestly. I don't want to be a rape victim. I want to serve men and their cocks as a good whore should, willingly, and without reservation. I think I proved that to you all. I told my husband all about that first session, and he knows I'm here now, and that I planned to put on a sex show with Marty. I told him that I would no longer wear panties or bras or undergarments of any sort. I told him my dresses should be see-through to show everyone how willing and ready I am to serve.
"This came as a shock to him, because I have always been modest in my dress, and he has never seen me naked in the light. I took off my clothes for him and let him see me naked in the light of day for the first time. I sat on his desk and spread my legs. I invited him to fuck me, using the word fuck for the first time. He fucked me and fucked me very well.
"After he pulled out, I masturbated for him while we discussed our immediate future. I told him I wanted to make a bold statement at this Sunday service, a statement by deed. I told him I wanted to stand before the congregation in a see-through dress and let everyone see my naked body with Marty's sperm running down my legs.
"He was stunned, but agreed that this would end the rapes and demonstrate our willingness to serve the community's needs. When I leave this room to attend the service, I will wear only the dress, nothing else. I will mount the platform and stand beside my husband in plain sight of everyone while he delivers a prepared statement of our desire to serve the needs of the community without being forced to do so. As you saw, the dress is very sheer. Without the slip and underwear, I will be as good as naked. I told my husband that if he feels like doing so, he may remove the dress and present me in the flesh. He might do it, but he wants to see how the congregation reacts to his announcement, first. If all goes well, we have a special surprise. Don't ask. You'll have to wait and see. "
I said, "He'll like the reaction. Put the dress on, Stephanie. Let's see how sheer it is."
She got up and slipped the dress on, and indeed, we saw everything. She looked naked, and in the bright lights on stage, she would appear even more so. I was impressed and looked forward to the service.
The service was all she billed it to be. A rolling murmur went through the congregation as Stephanie appeared from the wings and walked over to stand beside the reverend. All eyes feasted on her, and she appeared to be basking in the lewd attention. She stood with her feet shoulder width apart, her hands submissively held behind her back, head up, shoulders back, a wet sheen down both legs to her feet. From where I sat in the fifth row, I could clearly see the split of her pussy and her clit poking out at the top. Her pink nipples arched up and were erect.
The reverend made it clear that his wife would serve the community with her body. He even had her turn slowly to show her rear. He told us she would serve the carnal needs of the community and no one would be refused this service. The congregation stood and applauded. He then lifted Stephanie's dress off over her head and presented his wife's naked body. Stephanie smiled and turned slowly in place with her arms out wide.
Things went so well, they decided to go ahead with the special surprise. He reached into the podium and pulled out a dog collar. You could have heard a pin drop. He fastened it around her neck, then affixed a small pad lock. He faced the congregation and said, "While we are in your service, my wife will wear a collar, always."
Like a tidal wave of reaction, people stood and cheered--men, women, kids, everyone loved it. Poor Stephanie. Nobody told her she wasn't supposed to like it. She stood smiling like an idiot which amused the hell out of us. The only thing lower than a woman who fucks dogs is a woman who loves it.
The reverend left the stage and she got down on all fours in profile to us. She smiled and wagged her butt as the dog was led on stage with her husband holding the leash. They were slaying us. I'm sure they read the response as cheers, when we were actually in tears.
He led the dog to her wiggling ass and pulled on the leash to guide the mount. The rest was a dog fuck we'd all seen countless times, but outside a dance orgy, we'd never seen one by a willing and genuinely enthusiastic bitch with no whipping hanging over her. She was well mated, then stood to prove it. We gave her a thunderous applause to make her happy, and I know every female thought the same thing: "I'm not telling her."
After church let out, a line formed outside the reverend's office. She was taking donations for the church instead of charging for tricks. She became one of the best whores the town ever had. When they left, a year later, we had a new wing, a wing built by a very talented pussy. Stephanie was the only whore who was never tarnished by her fall, mostly because she served the church and her earnings enriched the community. She was as slutty as they come, a true bitch, but was never ostracized.
Ten years later, almost one year ago, Karen became a slut in the eyes of the community after a brief affair with the town undertaker. That affair became common knowledge long before they were actually caught in the act. Once she was officially and publicly charged from the pulpit, her life changed radically. I could no longer be seen talking to her, and we could only stay in touch by phone. Her husband moved out of the house, and the poor girl got raped daily, often several times a day by several different men until she surrendered and accepted her calling. Now, she turns tricks for five bucks a pop and has been doing so for eleven months.
Every man in town, including my Ray, has had her numerous times. I must confess, I did receive vicarious pleasure hearing about her rapes. She told them well, in detail. She was horrified by the way she was treated. When her husband left her, she was devastated. It was me who convinced her to stay and start charging. My Ray was her first paying customer.
I talk to her on the phone while he screws her. She likes to call me while she's with her customers. She calls me Barbara, to conceal my identity from her tricks.
Through Karen, I lived the life of the town pussy, as Karen calls herself. Being the town pussy was my favorite fantasy. Thanks to Karen, I knew how every man in town fared as a lover, and I knew what he had dangling between his legs. Several men make me weak in the knees just being around them after I learned what they could offer a horny female. I never adjusted to being horny all the time.
Although I sometimes daydream of being in Karen's high heels, the reality would be difficult. I am not only better looking than Karen, but I have the sexiest figure in town. If I fell from grace, I knew the men would be lined up at my front door within minutes. I've been told I'm Stephanie's equal.
Karen pleaded with me to help her out. After ten months on the job, she said she couldn't continue being the only town pussy. If I joined her, she could last out the full term, then return to a near normal life. Once absolved, in a church ceremony, she cannot be raped with impunity. She must, however, return to the righteous path, or she falls again. The tarnish fades over time. Many of our most respected women have--like my mother--at one time in their lives been the community whore.
Karen argues a strong case, that between the two of us, the load would be manageable, even pleasurable. I knew differently. The load would fall entirely on me for at least the first few months. Even after that, I would carry more than my share. Karen is cute and sexy, but I am beautiful and extremely sexy. If it were not for my children, the serene home life I enjoy, and a solemn promise I made to my mother, I might have seriously considered Karen's proposal.
After Mom became a church elder thirteen years ago, she made me swear on Daddy's grave that I would never willingly become a whore while she was alive. I can't let anyone know she did this, or she'd lose her seat on the elder's council. Elders must let nature take its course; they may help but never ever hinder.
The one aspect of my life that bothers me the most is that I must always downplay my beauty and hide my sex appeal. I know everyone in town wants to see me fall. I have to be extra careful to see that no rumors got started. I snapped at any man who dared make advances. I wore no makeup. My long hair was never done up. I wore my hair simply pinned back in a pony tail or rolled in a bun. I never wore dresses except to church, and those dresses went past my knees and buttoned at the neck. My day to day uniform was jeans and sweat shirts, sometimes bib overalls.
Karen dresses like a big-city whore in the most scandalous short skirts. She never wears panties or a bra unless the bra is one that merely pushes up the underside of her breasts. Her nipples always show through her thin tops, and few in town have not seen Karen's shaved pussy. If she isn't shooting a bare beaver, she's letting the wind have its way with her light skirt.
I did envy Karen that freedom. I would love to show my body in public. My nipples stick out two inches on my double "D" breasts, and I also have a beautiful shaved pussy. Ray likes Karen's shaved pussy, so he insists I keep mine bare, even in his absence. I do my best to please my husband, but most wives could care less about being sexually attractive to their spouse. Most men play by the book and only screw their wives until she gets pregnant. Ray, thank god, never went along with that notion.
Ray used to put a collar on me, but not often, and not once in the past five years. I complained too much and too well. He believed me and was afraid I'd leave him if he kept doing it for no good reason. I screwed myself, and all attempts to unscrew myself have failed. I try to put the kennels out of my mind, but with two teenage girls going to dances, that is impossible. I do envy them so much. Yes, they had the talk, and they know I screwed up. More than anything, they miss seeing me walk through the school.
Karen rates my husband as a four on her ten scale. I always thought Ray would rate an eight or nine. The young man who manages our forty-acre apple orchard is a ten, and that knowledge drives me to distraction. On warm days, Johnny wears shorts without underwear--shorts that are too short for a nineteen-year-old with a ten between his legs. Karen put him up to seducing me.
Johnny knew who Barbara was. He knew every detail of our private conversations, all my fantasies, and he knew how horny I was. I can't count the times I've stood below that boy, holding his ladder, watching that magnificent cock and balls hanging in my face while he examines apples he knows nothing about.
Johnny liked to turn backward on the ladder with his crotch in my face. He often raised an erection that lifted the leg of his shorts. His cock would poke straight out, forcing me to lean back to avoid contact. He would fist that magnificent cock in my face, taunting and teasing me with it, telling me how great he was in bed, how much I wanted his cock, telling me things I couldn't deny.
Still, I had to lean back, for one touch of that golden, precum-slick, rubbery tip to my hungry lips and I'd be a goner. My pussy drooled over that boy's cock. I never avoided these dangerous confrontations. I looked forward to them. After helping him, I'd have to go inside and masturbate; often, while on the phone with Karen; often, while she was getting screwed by someone I knew. Karen was doing her damnedest to win me over; I was doing my damnedest to resist. From the very start, she did much better than I did.
I was fighting a losing battle and knew it. My efforts to get rid of Johnny failed because Ray would not let him go. Ray and Karen were in league. Ray hired Johnny because of his cock, for Johnny didn't know shit about apple trees. He only knew about horny women. Why Ray would want to be married to the town pussy was beyond me, but he obviously did. Why he would want me going out in public dressed like Karen baffled me even more. If I wore clothes like Karen's, I'd cause accidents and draw crowds. I'd be a public spectacle. Ray knew that, and wanted that.
Ray did his part. He kept buying me short, low-cut, light dresses and pressured me to wear them outdoors, in town, to church, and with nothing beneath them. I steadfastly refused, because to do so would be all it would take to earn me the title. I did wear them for him in the bedroom. He liked to watch me walk about, assuming poses while he talked with Karen on the phone and jerked off. After he came, he'd rush over to Karen's house and call me. While screwing Karen, he talked to me on the phone while I masturbated. Some sex life, huh?
As the campaign intensified, Ray refused to screw me until I started wearing his dresses downtown. I hadn't had a fuck in six months, and I was going insane. Between Johnny, Ray, and Karen, I was kept super horny. Only my fingers gave me relief. Before Karen's fall, I masturbated two or three times a week. After the fall, that become three or four times a day. I'd get up in the morning and throw a robe over my nude body so that when the last kid left for school, I could flop down on my bed, throw open the robe, and have at myself.
Ray realized that the kids inhibited me, and he thought they were the only reason I didn't cave in. They weren't the only reason, but they were the main reason. The vow to my mother was a close second. My fear of never losing the tarnish came in a close third, and the fear of being screwed to death was close behind that. Still, he was right about the kids. I am and always was a good and responsible mother.
We have four children. When I fell from grace, Sonya was sixteen; Steve, fifteen; Rachel, thirteen; and Tommy was eleven. The kids thought I was pure as the driven snow, and they had never seen me even partially dressed, certainly never nude. Ray was working hard to change that, too. He began working on them and me at the same time.
I first noticed the change in my two boys. They started saying fuck as every other word. I ignored this, even when the girls started using the word. Girlie magazines appeared next, and my girls started wearing short dresses without panties around the house.
He began his campaign on me by talking me into wearing his dresses around the house. I resisted for weeks, but eventually agreed to wear them with bra and panties, and without the high heels. Still, this was a difficult bill to fill as the dresses were exceedingly short and showed a great deal of cleavage. I could not sit in those dresses without showing my panties, and this fact caused me no end of embarrassment.
My kids, even my girls, seemed fascinated with the intimate flesh I revealed. I'd caught them all staring down my top or up my skirt. The boys wouldn't even try to hide the fact that they were looking. I now know that Ray talked to them and told them it was okay to look. After two weeks of flashing panties, I agreed to go braless. A week after that, I went without the panties. In this way, I gradually overcame my shyness around the kids. They'd seen everything I had, many times over, walking down a school corridor, but that was from a distance. I grew careless with my modesty, and it wasn't long before I walked, sat, stooped, and bent as Karen did in her outfits, at least, at home.
After a week of showing my body in the dresses, I began walking to and from the bathroom in the nude. I always had an audience waiting. The novelty never grew tiresome on them or me. Ray's plan worked. Before the month was out, I felt free to walk about the house stark naked, and did so quite often.
By this time, I could see that Ray and Karen were destined to succeed. Each day I grew weaker. Each time Johnny poked his magnificent rod in my face, I had to fight harder not to engulf it with my mouth. Since he worked at our place, and could come and go in my house as he pleased, he also saw my scantily-clad body. He even saw me nude.
My plan was to hold out as long as possible in the hopes that another whore might surface and relieve Karen. I knew that hope was futile, and that it wouldn't make any difference anyway.
I was so fucking horny for a real cock, I began fantasizing about Steve and Tommy's young cocks. Fucking Johnny would have spelled instant disaster, but screwing my sons was safe. No one would let that out, not even Karen. I kept those boys in erections and their young pecker tracks soiled everything from underwear and socks, to sheets and pillow cases.
Ray soon had me so hard-up I was sniffing and licking those wet emissions before doing the laundry. Soon after that, I would go searching for fresh deposits after the last kid left home for school. I would then masturbate while sucking on the cum-wet fabric. Not long after that, I was sucking on the crotches of Sonya and Rachel's panties. My shameless exhibitions had a big effect on their young pussies as well. Both girls always left panties sopping wet in the crotch. I discovered I had a taste for young pussy cream.
I began seeing my own kids as sex objects, desirable sex objects. With such a strong taboo against immediate family incest, how could I not get off on the idea.
The appeal of incest was too strong to resist. From the time they were babies, I have fantasized sex with my children, boys and girls. My eyes would fasten on my sons' stiff crotch bulges, and the sight of Rachel or Sonya's inner thigh flesh would make me bite my lip. My uninhibited displays inspired the girls to loosen-up as well. They both took to wandering the house in bra and panties; and, like me, they would go to and from the bath in the nude. The boys also took to walking about in their underwear with erections, and I began catching both boys jerking off more often than chance could account for.
They never locked their doors. If I walked in and found a boy masturbating, I would go about my business, picking up laundry, putting laundry away, or straightening their room. I found myself stalling for the cum shot, catching the sight in my sidelong glances. My presence never inhibited either boy. If anything, my being there excited them further. I developed a craving for their young sperm, and I wanted it fresh and warm, right from their balls. Watching that fresh sperm squirt and ooze up from their balls made my mouth water.
When the girls found out what the boys were doing and getting away with, they too began masturbating for me. The first time I entered Sonya's room and saw her lying spread naked on her bed with her open legs facing the door, fingering her pretty pussy, I nearly dropped my laundry basket. She did not stop or even look up. She continued, so I went about my business. I remained in her room until she reached her orgasm. That same day, I walked in on Rachel and saw my youngest girl fucking herself with a candle. I'm sure Ray was behind this development as well, but I never said anything to him or them about this.
One day, I walked in Sonya's room and caught Ray fucking her doggie style. This time, I did drop the laundry. A few days later, I caught him fucking Rachel in the missionary position, but I was not surprised. Later, I discovered that Steve and Tommy were also fucking their sisters. This, too, came as no surprise. Neither girl was a virgin. They'd both been going to Dances.
Everyone was getting fucked but me, and I was fit to be tied. They were all showing off for me, driving me crazy. When I found myself sucking sperm from the crotches of my daughter's panties, and loving it, I knew I was a goner.
The kids were on Ray's side and doing their very best to keep me horny. To make matters worse, Karen was screwing my boys, reporting every fuck to me in the minutest detail. She rated Tommy a six, but Steve rated a nine. His cock was the equal of his father's--a thin eight inches with a big, knobby head, but Steve had stamina, enthusiasm, and was a repeater. He would fuck her three times in rapid succession and make her cum twice during each fuck. I could not look at Steve's cock without picturing it in action between my hot and horny legs.
Steve knew this and kept his hard cock in my view. He liked to wear his jockey underwear with his cock poking out through the slit. His long cock bobbed as he walked, and he was always stroking it, keeping it hard. They all displayed their naked genitals to me, often wet from sex. The girls shot me fresh-fucked beavers that I could not resist staring at. The boys jacked off wherever the urge struck them; sometimes, while sitting beside me on the sofa watching TV.
Steve was impossible to ignore. He made it a point to jack off beside me. I never did anything to discourage this practice. Watching his beautiful cock swell and drool under his pumping fist made my pussy drool. Steve grew bolder and bolder each day. I knew that sex between me and my kids was inevitable. Ray and Karen were relentlessly pushing us together. I stopped resisting the idea and began welcoming the inevitable. I could not instigate anything, but was determined not to hinder their progress.
I knew Steve would set the pace and break the ice. To speed things along, I told Karen that I craved sex with Steve, and loved his cock, knowing full well that my confession would get back to Steve. The impact was immediate.
While sitting beside me on the sofa, later that same day, he began jerking off. I had on one of the shortest dresses and nothing else. The hem laid across my bare mound and my pussy lips were exposed. I always tried to ignore him when he jerked off. I stared at the TV. When he came, he lifted and turned to aim his cock at my cunt. He boldly peppered my pussy with hot sperm, then wiped his dick on my thigh.
I was too stunned and turned on to say or do anything. I sat there and let his cum seep down my denuded crack while Rachel watched the white mass drool through my pussy crack. Word spread quickly to the other two kids. Two hours later, Tommy stood over me and jacked off down my top while Steve held the top out exposing my tits. After that, the boys only came on me, and they came on me wherever and whenever they pleased.
It was open season on Mom, and I secretly loved every second. Steve liked to shoot in my face or in my hair, or come up behind me to nestle his cock head in the crack of my ass while he jerked off. Tommy liked to cum on my nipples, and would pull my tits out to get a good shot at both. I lent myself to this abuse, and each time brought a greater escalation.
The girls were not left out. They brought their spermy loads to me as well. If they had a pussy full, they'd sit on my lap after moving my skirt up to make bare skin contact. The sperm would seep from their pussies to wet my crotch. They also came to me with mouthfuls of sperm and wanted a kiss. Kissing hello and goodbye was a family practice, but never full lip contact. When one approached with lips clenched tightly, I knew I'd get a spermy, open-mouthed, French kiss. I welcomed these lewd kisses with my head tilted back. After receiving their offering, I would lick the inside of their mouths while they hovered over me with their mouth wide open.
Sex between us was overdue. I wanted it badly. They knew that, but they were tormenting me. Ray did his part by removing every door in our house. With the kids out of school for the summer, and always home, I had no privacy at a time when I masturbated ten times a day. The kids took turns keeping me under surveillance. Three days into the summer break, I broke down. Rachel watched me fuck myself with a smug look on her face. Before that day was out, they'd all been treated to a masturbation exhibition.
One day, shortly afterward, Steve stood beside my chair as I sat at the dining room table, talking to Karen. The other kids sat around the table, watching expectantly. I knew something was about to happen, something that Karen or Ray had set up. The kids were all naked, and so was I at Karen's insistence. She refused to talk to me until I stripped naked. She was with Johnny, and I wanted to hear them fuck. She also wanted me on the dining room phone, so I stripped with the kids watching. As my clothes came off, the kids pulled their chairs over to face me, to show me their genitals while they masturbated.
When I resumed my seat, I had Tommy scooted so close that his knees were between mine, forcing me to show my bare beaver. Not satisfied with this, he widened his knees, forcing mine out wide to each side. I was showing them my wide open pussy for the first time. Sonya and Rachel sat in chairs on either side of Tommy. Both girls had their feet up on the seat's edges and their knees laid down, exposing their fresh young pussies in the most obscene manner for my benefit. My eyes roamed from pussy to cock to pussy, watching fingers working hard on young genitalia.
Steve stood at my side, turned to face me, his stiff cock bobbing in my face. He was jacking off with his turgid cock aimed at my face, touching my face at times, aimed mostly at my mouth. More and more, the wet head pressed to my lips, and I did not shy away. As I spoke with Karen, my lips moved in the silky wetness of his cock head. Karen kept me talking and inspired me to play with my pussy. I used words the kids had never heard cross my lips as I tried to get Karen to give me a detailed account of Johnny's fucking of her horny cunt.
They soon had me squirming shamelessly, pausing from time to time to lick and suck Steve's dick. I placed my bare feet between the girls' legs and they opened their cunts for me to fuck with my big toes. Tommy got between my legs and slid his dick in my pussy before I had time to react. When his tight nut sack hit me in the ass, I dropped the phone. I grabbed Steve by the hips, and sucked him down my throat. I was having the wildest sex with all four of my kids at once and loving it.
Tommy came first, triggering my orgasm. Steve fired two jets in my mouth before pulling out to pump the rest in my face. The girls were fucking themselves on my toes and both came when they saw Steve shoot his sperm all over my face. Steve and Tommy traded places. I helped Steve guide his long cock into my wet cunt, then nursed Tommy to another hardon.
Rachel came up and climbed onto my chair, then maneuvered her wet pussy over my right nipple. I squeezed my tit to further get it up her snatch as she humped my tittie. Sonya got on her knees at my hip and began sucking on my clit while Steve screwed my pussy. I reached down with my free hand and parted my lips for her to get a good lip-lock on my entire clit. She sucked me to a fast and powerful orgasm and was still sucking on my clit when Steve came in my cunt and triggered another.
When Steve pulled out, Tommy came in my mouth. I sucked him dry as Sonya got between my legs and began licking my spermy twat. When Tommy pulled his spent dick from my lips, I had to see Sonya for myself. I slipped lower in my seat and peered around Rachel's hip to see Sonya's face buried firmly in my spread beaver, licking and sucking as hard as she could. I spread my legs as wide as I could and reached down with both hands to pull my lips open. I saw Sonya's pretty face and pink tongue lapping at my tender inner membranes, and saw her stiff tongue repeatedly lick inside my gaping pussy hole, lapping sperm from the interior walls of my cunt. I cried out, "Yes, Sonya, lick Mommy's pussy good, sweetheart. Suck Mommy's pussy, baby!"
Rachel let me watch Sonya for a minute or so, then got up and placed her twat in my face. I grabbed her by her small hips and devoured her little cunt for her. The little bitch humped my face while I sucked and licked. Rachel and I came together. I was wasted, but Sonya stepped up to take Rachel's place. Sonya did an obscene bump and grind on my tongue, as I fought to maintain contact with her gyrating pussy. I finally stopped fighting to keep up and merely stuck out my tongue as far as I could, letting her fuck herself on my face.
Minutes into this scene, I felt Steve's cock slide into my pussy. Rachel and Tommy held my legs apart for him. He took several strokes, then the head slithered down my ass crack to my anus. He pushed and popped in, making me grunt and groan as he slowly took possession of my ass to the balls. Rachel and Tommy played with and fingered my pussy while Sonya and Steve fucked me to two more orgasms.
When they finished, I slithered to the floor, totally limp and wasted. There, on the floor, they continued to use my body in any way that amused them. I licked and sucked whatever was placed at my mouth, and my pussy and asshole were kept busy with fingers, cocks, mouths, and foreign objects. This went on for another hour. When they were finally through with me, I was a quivering mass of jelly, but a thoroughly satisfied mass of jelly.
After I recovered, bathed, and dressed, I had no regrets. The sexual tension inside the house was just too high for nothing to happen. Everything went just as Ray and Karen hoped it would, but their plan backfired. They could not use the fact that I was fucking the kids to expose me as a whore. The town would have seen us all put away for that. No, they had to get me to fuck an outsider, and I flat refused to cooperate. I found this easy to do since the kids were keeping me sexually satisfied at home. Not even Johnny's ten could influence me.
The kids liked having sex with me and would not stop, though Ray and Karen tried to get them to cut me off. I found it easy to break through any of their resolves. The boys were a cinch, and the girls loved having their cunts licked by their mother. When I wanted sex, I merely had to make my selection. I often took two or three at a time, if not all four. Ray and Karen were stymied. They gave it their best and came up short.
Karen was quickly burning out. She got screwed by at least ten guys a day, some more than twice per visit. She begged for relief and Ray took to begging as well. Not only was Ray begging me to become the town pussy, he was begging for my pussy. Karen cut him off after the plan failed. I let Ray simmer for two weeks as pay back, but he wasn't suffering. He was fucking both girls. Still, I had the best pussy in town; he knew it, and he missed it.
The town needed a fresh new whore. I could see that. Karen was threatening to move away, and the church ladies feared another long dry spell, seeing their hard-earned money driving out of town. Everyone seemed to see me as Karen's successor. The town wanted me to be their whore, and I learned that almost everyone knew of Ray's and Karen's attempts to seduce me into that role. In their minds, I fit the bill perfectly.
In truth, I agreed. I was the perfect choice. With my kids no longer an obstacle, I could live my fantasy, wear the sexiest clothes, be fucking constantly, and earn extra money besides. I was more than ready, I was eager to become the town pussy, the community whore. The trouble was, I wanted to be drafted, and had to be drafted. I could not break my vow to my mother or reveal we had that vow.
They wanted me, but I had to be drafted as my mother was and as Stephanie was. With Mom still alive, and still an elder, I knew the draft would fail. I waited out a full week in despair before I was raped.
This was a real rape and the perpetrator should have been arrested and punished. Had he been reported, he would have been. I told Mom about the rape, but Johnny told everyone else that I seduced him. I told Mom I couldn't report him, and she grudgingly went along because she thought Johnny would never tell a soul.
The rapes followed one after the other, and soon they came in groups. I was raped in town, in church, and at a picnic. I was raped fifty times before I surrendered and took my first five dollars from Johnny, but that was after Mom stopped by and handed me a red light for my porch. That's how I became the new town pussy. My kids were so proud, and Ray has never been happier. The wait was worth it.
Copyright © 1997, Phil Phantom, ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.
This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.