Billy thought about the present state of his kitchen. "I have an idea," he told her.
When he got to Doc Peterschticker's office, he was actually beginning to feel pretty good about things, considering his present circumstances.
Peterschticker was being his usual avuncular, reassuring self. "Don't worry, Billy. I've been in urology for twenty years. Nothing you can show me is going to shock me, so if you don't mind..."
Nurse Swenson gulped. She had seemed more than a little squeamish when Billy had described his symptoms.
Obediently, Billy dropped trou, allowing his fungal organ to spring forth in all its glory.
Peterschickter performed what the Japanese call a bushuru (affectionately named for the first President Bush), fainting dead away on the floor, a long stream of vomit issuing from his mouth. So much for twenty years of urological experience, Billy thought.
It was that dark horse Nurse Swenson who proved to be the real trooper, eagerly falling to her knees, taking Billy's new and improved member into her mouth and sucking it for all it was worth.
Days later, old man Ferrilli had to hire hundreds of new delivery persons. The pizzas featuring Billy's mushrooms were selling like hot cakes, and the shop could barely keep up with the demand. Mushrooms were by now sprouting from Billy's forehead, cheeks, nipples, bellybutton and ass. The Nystantin Dr. Peterschticker prescribed for Billy's fungal infection did not seem to be working particularly well. That was to be expected, Billy thought. The treatments appropriate for yeast infections might not work so effectively on fungi from outer space, he supposed. They had offered surgery, but he was kind of growing attached to the mushrooms, especially to the very first mushroom that had sprouted from him. He did not know what he would do without it at this point.
No one seemed to notice the mushrooms much anyway. Hell, half the town was sporting the little critters on their foreheads and cheeks at this point. Apple Annie had especially enjoyed hers. A gift straight from Kali, she called it.
Poor Apple Annie. She had grown so tired that Billy had taken to performing the tantric rituals in her bed. Now she existed essentially as a bed of mushrooms. They grew from her body, her mattress, even the walls. Apple Annie had not moved much in the past couple of days. Billy was not even sure how much of Apple Annie was left anymore underneath all those mushrooms, if anything at all.
Billy was feeling kind of peaked himself as he rang Mrs. Gunnreil's doorbell. Mrs. Gunnreil was one of Pizza King's most loyal customers, and she always asked for Billy.
When she opened the door, Billy saw that she had sprouted two new mushrooms from her temples since last night. She looked tired herself.
"Billy, how nice to see you," she breathed. "Here, let me give you your usual tip." She opened her nightgown, exposing her large firm breasts, each now festooned with mushroom nipples.
She unbuttoned Billy's shirt slowly, stopping to lick his own mushroom nipples with her now mushroom tongue before she squatted to remove his pants. Each touch of fungus on fungus was the purest ecstasy Billy had ever known. She took Billy's magic mushroom twanger into her mouth and pulled Billy down beside her to the floor, where Billy began to eat her mushroom clit with his own mushroom tongue. Spores were soon flying all over the place and new mushrooms blossomed from each of their bodies, each locking its newly formed mushroom lips with those of its nearest neighbor across from it. It was the sweetest bliss that Billy had ever known. Soon his own mushroom parts were touching each other, exchanging their spores and Billy felt his state of bliss increasing exponentially.
Now they were lying side by side, he and Mrs. Gunnreil, their mushrooms interwined, cross-pollinating in a frenzy of combinatorial possibilities. Their human energy was spent, Billy knew. They were going to bed in the most literal sense. Soon they would be nothing but mushrooms infesting the rug, the walls and the ceiling in an unimaginable orgy of spore release.
Suddenly his future looked very bright indeed, Billy mused, in his last human act of cognition.
The End.
Try a Little Tenderness
Although we had been neighbours for a couple of years I only ever saw her occasionally, usually when she was driving. Was she was married? Was there a partner? I didn't know.
Then one Saturday May morning, as I happened to be walking past her driveway, I spotted her attempting to start a motor mower.
Judging by her appearance and agitated state I concluded she wasn't having much luck, So, thinking it would be the right time to be neighbourly and introduce myself I stopped, and called out. "Hi there, I'm your next-door neighbour, can I help at all?"
She straightened up and looked at me, her smile indicating that my assistance would be welcome.
"Yes please, I'm useless with anything like this." Her cheery voice matched her smile. I opened the gate.
As I approached I noticed the oily smears on her hands and face, clear evidence of her frustrated efforts. And then my eyes were assaulted by the sight her shapely breasts, whose beauty even a sloppy t-shirt couldn't hide.
They were a perfect looking size, big, but not over large and beautifully round. It had been along time since I'd fondled a female form, an unfortunate fact that this lovely woman was reminding me of! A thought occurred to me
"Your husband won't mind me helping, will he?" I asked, not wanting an irate spouse to arrive on the scene and think I was coming on to his wife.
"I don't think so, I'm not married. My divorce was final a few months ago and I've decided to sell up and get an apartment, where there's no gardening to do." She replied waving her arm at the overgrown lawn and borders. "I've got an estate agent coming next week to value the place."
I felt an immediate sense of regret. Regret that I hadn't troubled to introduce myself earlier to this very attractive female who was having quite an impact on my equilibrium.
"I'm sorry to hear that." I meant it. I looked into her soft green eyes and proffered my hand " I'm Peter, by the way."
"Kirsty." she replied taking it, transferring oil and grease at the same time. "Sorry about that." I told her it wasn't a problem and set-to diagnosing the fault with the mower.
Kirsty knelt down to watch what I was doing, the sudden closeness causing the scent of her perfume to mingle with the petrol fumes coming from the flooded carburettor, the combination made for an intoxicating mix.
I speculated on Kirsty's age and decided she was in her late thirties, and although she was a little overweight, it didn't detract from her sexual appeal.
She exuded an erotic allure and although she wore very little make-up her exquisitely smooth skin and short blonde hair screamed of expensive care and maintenance. Kirsty was a very desirable lady.
I found the problem, cleared the blocked fuel line, and when the engine roared into life I guided the machine onto the grass, Kirsty couldn't have been more pleased. I killed the engine so she could make herself heard.
"Oh, thank you, Peter. You've been a great help. Now come and clean your hands while I make some coffee. I take it you'd like some?" How could I refuse?
Over the ensuing weeks a wonderful friendship evolved and we enjoyed each others company greatly. But being several years older than Kirsty I didn't hold out much hope for romance.
However, that didn't stop me harbouring delicious carnal thoughts about her.
She recruited my assistance to tidy up the garden and tackle some decorating - always rewarding me with excellent cooking. Her house never went up for sale, which I took to be a clear indication that there could be something more to enjoy, if I was prepared to wait.
We often went out to restaurants or the cinema, even shopping together. In short, we became very good friends, trusting friends, with an appreciation of each others finer feelings.
She respected my situation of being widowed for the past three years and I respected the fact that she been through a messy divorce. Patience, was a sustaining virtue that bound us
Now, I am lucky in respect of not having to hold dow
n a regular 9-5 job since my business was swallowed up – quite lucratively, I might add – so all I content myself with is a little consultation work, just to keep in touch with the world of business. And so, on this grey Friday morning, which turned out to be a watershed in our relationship, I was sitting at my computer when the phone rang. It was Kirsty.
"Hi, Peter, can you do me a favour please?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Can you pop round and take my washing off the line if it starts to rain, I forgot all about it before leaving this morning."
I looked at the rain already spattering against the window.
"I'll do it now," I replied. "it's started."
"You're a sweetheart, Peter. If it is wet, can you put it in the tumble drier and give it a few minutes, please."
"Sure thing, Bye."
"Bye."
I grabbed the key to Kirsty's house off the hook in the kitchen - we even trusted one another with keys - and in the few seconds it took to get to Kirsty's back garden I got soaked, so did the washing on the whirligig. I started snatching at blouses, t-shirts and a couple of skirts but suddenly, the materials felt different, and the wonderful realisation that I was handling Kirsty's lingerie struck me!
I looked at the sensual items passing through my hands in greater detail, a sense of lust and a desire to see Kirsty wearing them searing into my thoughts.
Panties, thongs and bra's all held my gaze, while the wet, silken material of a waist-slip wrapped itself invidiously around my hands like a snake.
But, at the centre of the whirligig, was a sight that really set my pulses racing – a couple of suspender belts and various pairs of stockings with lacy tops, it was a wonderful, heart warming sight! Gathering everything together I made for the utility room and transferred the wet garments to the tumble-dryer one by one, slowly savouring the feel of each item against my skin and picturing Kirsty wearing it – I would certainly look at her in a different light now,
My reverie was broken at the realisation of my hand clutching an erection! Somewhat embarrassed, but not shocked, I took a deep breath and stood up, leaving Kirsty's lingerie spinning around in the dryer.
I spent the rest of the day trying to ignore the arousal that pounded and pestered within me,
Then, just as I was weakening to the point where I decided relief was required, Kirsty phoned inviting me to dinner that evening.
As usual, Kirsty was dressed impeccably and I couldn't help wondering if she was wearing lingerie similar to that I had taken off the line.
We enjoyed a lovely meal and it was while opening our second bottle of wine that she uttered the immortal words that changed our relationship forever.
"Pete, thanks again for getting the washing in, I hope I didn't embarrass you. I'd completely forgotten what I'd hung out." She spoke softly, teasing, her eyes flirting with me.
I paused to take a sip of wine, sensing it was going to be a seminal moment.
"No problem at all. It's been a long time since my fingers have felt such frippery." I stopped there, leaving my words hanging. Would she encourage the repartee, or think I was a pervert of some sort?
"Mm mm, interesting," She replied, "So, you did enjoy the experience?"
Kirsty's persistence took me aback. It was fast becoming a conversation like none previously and I wanted it to continue - so did my cock, which was beginning to stiffen at an alarming rate!
Then, suddenly, Kirsty dropped her bombshell.
"I'm sorry, Peter, I don't mean to embarrass you but, don't you think it's time we moved on and spoke honestly about our feelings. I want to. Do you? I would love our relationship to become something more."
I put down my glass and looked at Kirsty, incomprehension written on my face.
She promptly stood up and moved around the table to where I was sitting.
Without speaking she put a hand on the back of my neck and drew my head toward the softness of her white, satin blouse.
"How about an answer, Peter... "
But I was unable to speak, my face was delighting in the sensuous folds of her blouse and sensing the firmness of her breasts – how I longed to hold them!
" ... tell me, did you really enjoy touching my lingerie?"
The humour was lost on me and without further ado I pulled her onto my lap, my erection taking her full weight; there was no way i could disguise my feelings or my physical discomfort now.
So, when our lips met and our tongues sought one another, her passion left me in no doubt about how she felt. But, to endorse her emotions fully, she ground her backside emphatically against my rigid, throbbing cock! So urgent were her actions that I couldn't stop myself reciprocating!
Eventually we broke off and a breathless Kirsty hissed.
"Peter, you bastard, why haven't you said something before now. We've wasted too much time."
Crockery and glassware rattled as we engaged in more kissing and grinding, and when a natural pause arrived I said. "By the way, I did enjoy the touch of your things ...., very much! But, can we move to somewhere more comfortable?"
Kirsty raised herself from my lap. "Yes! Upstairs! Now!"
She took my hand and pulled me to my feet, leading the way into the hall and upstairs.
In the bedroom Kirsty switched on a bedside lamp, its soft glow intensifying our sexual aggression.
We didn't make straight for the bed but stood looking at one another, Kirsty's fabulous chest heaving and undulating beneath the sensuous sheen of her blouse, and my erection pulsing, throbbing against the restraints of my chinos. Our urgency was palpable.
"Oh God, Peter, undress me, slowly. It's been such a long time since I've enjoyed anything like this and I want the enjoyment to last." Kirsty's voice contained a nervous croak.
"So do I, sweetheart. So do I." I was suddenly fearful that I wouldn't be able to meet Kirsty's level of carnal expectations. So much so, that when my fingers found her buttons they were trembling.
"Christ, Kirsty...," I mumbled, "... I think the moment is getting to me."
The first button came undone, then another, my heart racing furiously as Kirsty's cleavage came alive. I undid the remaining buttons allowing Kirsty to undo the cuffs and slip the blouse from her shoulders.
Dumbstruck, all I could do was stare at the sexual spectacle of her breasts, their potent force gently spilling over the lacy edges of a bra that was trying valiantly to restrain them. There, before me, were the objects of my desire since the day I first met Kirsty, and now the moment had arrived to fondle them.
"What do you think, Peter? Are they pleasing, or do you think they are too big?"
I cupped a hand around each one delighting in the material contact of the satin and the perceived firmness of flesh. Burying my face in their valley I drank in the exotic aroma of Kirsty.
"Kirsty, they are exquisite!" I mumbled.
She allowed her blouse to slip to the floor and reached behind to unhook the bra, hesitating before shrugging her shoulders forward and letting the straps glide silently down her arms to join her blouse on the carpet.
I couldn't believe my good fortune.
There, within my grasp, were the most glorious naked breasts. Protruding nipples thrust emphatically from large, dark areolea, taunting and pleading to be kissed.
Softly, Kirsty spoke, her words exciting me.
"Squeeze them hard, Peter, suck on them. They want you so much."
"Oh sweetheart, I want them, too!"
I did as Kirsty wanted and lifted one of her glorious globes to my descending face, clamping my lips around the hard, pointed nipple. I became incensed and sucked harder causing a sharp intake of breath from Kirsty.
"Mm mm, That's the way I like it, Peter. Harder!"
"You are so beautiful, Kirsty. I want you so much." I said between breaths.
"I want you, too, Pete. I want you, too."
Kirsty's hand reached down and squeezed my erection momentarily before moving to unbuckle my belt. I perceived her pulling
at the zipper of my chinos.
They fell open and she urgently pushed them down around my ankles, her fingers instantly enfolding my pulsing erection. She stroked slowly, her breath soft in my ear.
"Peter, you feel so gorgeous, so hard, so fucking hard! I can't believe it!"
"And your breasts are so fucking beautiful. So fucking lovely, Kirsty!"
Our obscenities seemed to spur our desires.
I felt for the fastener on Kirsty's skirt and drew it down. But it was a tight fitting garment that wouldn't obey the laws of gravity, so I dropped to my knees and tugged it to her ankles.
Curiosity kept me kneeling, as the seductive elegance of Kirsty's lingerie enthralled. White satin panties shimmered in the half-light, a discernible moist spot darkening the material where it touched her silhouetted labia. I leant back against the bed and gazed at the spell-binding vision of femininity, not believing my good fortune.
Captivated, my hands reached out and traced a path around the symmetrical fastenings of her stocking tops, their intricate patterning inviting my fingertips to creep higher and higher, to graze the patina of satin covering her pussy. It was a truly magical moment.
"Well, Peter, you really do love the touch of my underwear, don't you?"
Across the contours of her breasts I looked up into her misted eyes.
"I'm dumbstruck, Kirsty, you look gorgeous and oh, so ... " I hesitated before using more profanity,
"... will you always wear lingerie as erotic as this?"
"Of course I will," She whispered.
Incensed, and close to losing control, my eyes pleaded with Kirsty to be allowed to kiss her cunt. I wanted to provoke and excite her further, I wanted to kiss every square inch of her.
My tacit request was answered when Kirsty grabbed my hair, drawing my face onto her ever moistening panties. My mouth found her pussy and my tongue tasted the juice of her valley; it was like nothing I'd experienced before.
"Oh God, Peter, where have you been all my life? I've never been kissed there. It is so lovely, it's driving me insane." Kirsty's breathing was ragged, her legs unsteady, as she ground herself at my face in search of satisfaction.
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