Friday, November 23, 2007

Public Domain(271)

there was a summer many years ago when i was a teen where i was getting dangerously close to running out of masturbation material.
at the time, i couldn't get my hands on any real porn. i had a Penthouse with Aerosmith on the cover, but simply seeing a few naked women had lost it's appeal. i needed the hardcore. this was, you see, after i'd had one of my occasional triumphs of conscience and gotten rid of my entire porn collection. this happened often. so there i was- no porn other than a penthouse and a vhs tape where i'd taped a few sex scenes from movies on hbo abd cinemax.
so one day i was going through the slideshow in my mind trying to figure out who to whack it to, and i rested on an image of Aunt Bea from The Andy Griffith show. in the fantasy i quickly constructed, I'd show up to her door to ask if she needed any chores done around the house. she'd tell me that i could clean out the garage. i'd clean for a while, and she'd offer me some lemonade and sandwhiches for lunch. as we ate, we talked about what a nice town mayberry was. i'd ask her why she'd never been married, and she'd say that she'd never found the right man. she'd tell me that she'd always been happy taking care of her nephews, but still, sometimes she'd get lonely. this is when i'd lean in and kiss her. we'd kiss hard and for a bit, then i'd stand and she'd take me into her mouth...
well, i'll stop there. needless to say, the sex was not gentle nor clean, and when it was all over Aunt Bea would be a satisfied mess of a woman, all flush red and panting on the floor of the garage. we'd lie there, and i'd have a menthol Swisher sweet mini cigar that she'd ask to share. as i'd watch her inhale, smiling as her huge bosom would rise to take in the smoke, i'd have no choice but to take her again, violently on the floor. the string of explatives that would come from her only made the session longer and hotter. Aunt Bea and I would continue for hours there, until the sun set and we were both drained.
that was where i'd leave her- sweaty and spent on the cold floor of the basement, begging me not to leave.
then I'd visit Ethel Mertz...


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