The Punany Experience

by Jessica Holter

  “God bless the entire Hitachi family,” she said.

  She folded the towel in half and laid it on the bed and got busy getting what Hartford never could bring her, a flood. The hard ugly back massager was the best-kept secret in the world of masturbation. She opened her legs and wedged the big fat head of the machine between her pussy lips and turned it on. The monster only had two speeds; “Oh my God” and “Oh shit, oh shit oh shit.” Shawna closed her eyes and imagined herself being fucked by a gang of men…

  HARTFORD HAD A HANDFUL OF HIS SHAFT AS HE LAY ON THE COUCH in the den watching Vanessa Blue devour eleven inches of Lexington Steele on the television. He closed his eyes as he stroked and listened to the sounds of her full lips sucking. He stroked and pumped his dick with his right hand and grabbed his balls with his left. He thought of the place Jim had found inside of him and reached down toward it…

  THE POWER DRILL THUNDERED AGAINST HER PUSSY LIPS AND CLIT as Shawna fantasized. She was outside in the woods, naked, her hands tied to trees, her knees on the ground, her mouth stuffed with two pink cocks. She had one dick in her ass and one in her pussy and she could feel them rubbing together inside of her.

  “Fuck me,” Shawna said out loud. “Fuck me, you fucking honkies. I’m a dirty black bitch. Nut in my mouth. Yeah, that’s it. Cum in my ass. Oh yeah, that’s it, cum in my pussy, cum in my mouth…” She was on the verge of busting, just thinking about the milk of life filling all of her holes. She pressed the machine harder against her clit. “Oh, that’s it, that’s it right there, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh God, fuck me, yeah, yeah, yeah…” she screamed, “…ahhhhh!”

  Her pussy sneezed and oozed its second nut of the night. But Shawna was not done. She kept the wand in place, pressing on through her spasms, denying them the right to finish her off. She spit down her chin and imagined it was cum, and then she was back in the woods, sucking the dick that had been in her ass.

  “Ooh, you make me so nasty.” A few feet away she heard moaning stronger than her own. She watched one of the white men fucking Hartford in his ass. “Yeah,” she said as she pumped against the machine. “Yes, fuck that niggah, fuck him good.” Hartford was on all fours, his ass in the air, letting the man smack his ass. “Make him your bitch, make him your bitch, do it, AHHH! Fuuuuck!”

  Shawna was cumming so hard, thinking of Hartford getting fucked in his ass, she flooded the towel as she bore down and pushed the juice out like she was giving birth, shooting it across the bed.

  HARTFORD MASSAGED HIS BALLS AND LET HIS FINGERS RUB the space beneath them as he jacked himself off. He opened his eyes to see Vanessa bent over a couch, getting it in the ass. He watched intently as Lex’s dick pushed in and out of her tight hole. Hartford stroked his own dick harder and faster…pressing down on the meat beneath his balls, which gave him a feeling similar to the one he had in the doctor’s office.

  “Oh shit,” he said. “Yeah, bitch, I’m going to fuck myself alright.” He watched Lex pull out of Vanessa’s ass and shove his cock down her mouth to the back of her throat. “Ooh, suck that dick, yeah, suck that dick…”

  Hartford was pumping his shaft faster and faster, gripping his nuts and rubbing his meat until he and Lex both filled Vanessa’s mouth with all man’s joy.

  SHAWNA LISTENED TO THE SOUND OF HER BODY as she lay in the afterglow, gently massaging her breasts, feeling the muscles in her belly and thighs contract. Her heart pounded against her chest and her pussy lips seemed to pulsate with tiny heartbeats of their own…

  “Fuck!” Shawna suddenly opened her eyes wide. Outside of her fantasy, the thought of Hartford getting rammed up the ass wasn’t sexy at all. “That was new. Where the hell did that come from?”

  The Magic Wand had worked her so well, it was hot to the touch. She picked it up and snatched the soaked towel off the bed, and then walked to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

  “If I find out there’s any down low shit going on around here, he won’t have to worry about a pre-nup. He’ll be dead.”

  “BABY,” STORMY SAID TO KOREA. “I DON’T WANT TO DO IT THAT WAY anymore, okay?”

  “Okay,” Korea told her.

  That had been over a month ago. A lot had happened since that night. Korea had lost a couple of contracts, Stormy was working on her computer all the time, and Korea had kicked her relationship with her assistant, Melody, into high S&M gear. Her stress was mounting and her body had responded in the most unthinkable way. Now she couldn’t fuck Stormy if she wanted to.

  Korea was waiting for the scabs on her pussy to dry out and fall off before she fucked Stormy again. Korea never let Stormy suck on her pussy anyway. She didn’t want to run the risk of transmitting the virus when their pussy lips locked and the suction of her cup drew her lovers’ lips into her wetness. Korea was the wet one. So, when the two women fucked, it was Korea’s juices that slicked their skin, like a man-made lubricant, giving them smooth rides to mutual orgasm. She didn’t cum in a flood like Stormy did. She was constantly wet, every day, every evening, just like a man. And just like a man, Korea was always looking for a new challenge.

  Korea’s hot pussy cocktail was strong in scent and flowed endlessly when she fucked her woman. In the lesbian scissor position, it saturated her lover’s thighs. In the missionary position it streamed down Stormy’s fat pussy lips, sometimes bubbling and making little popping sounds. When she rode Stormy’s from behind, which she liked to do, she spread her own pussy lips apart, and let her large cherry pink clit rub the fatty flesh of her ass. She would hold herself there, in that place of blissful orgasm, feeling her juices stream between the crack of Stormy’s ass cheeks and pool on the sheets beneath them. Korea always waited for her lover to cum first. Sometimes, she had no need to bust at all, but when she did, her cum was thick and sticky, bearing the smell and consistency of a man’s nut. Stormy liked to suck it off of Korea’s fingers. Korea liked to watch her do this, as her post-orgasmic buzz jerked her into a euphoric state of sexual satisfaction.

  Korea had never told Stormy, or anyone else, about the virus. It was her own business and she was careful to keep it to herself. Until a week ago, Korea had not had an outbreak in all of the years since she had met Stormy, who gave her great loving, perfect nutrition, and kept her calm and free-spirited with her obedience and willingness to please. But lately Stormy busied herself with a new writing hobby that was turning Korea’s home-cooked gourmet meals into a never-ending international food fair of foreign slop Korea could not pronounce or identify. Dinner was still on the table when Korea came home from the office every night, but it was served with a single place setting, while Stormy hid away in her bedroom clicking the night away on her computer. This was not the agreement, Korea agreed with herself, as she walked through the door of the penthouse down the hall past the clicking.

  “Damn,” Korea said, as she smashed her foot on the trashcan pedal and looked inside. “This wench isn’t even conscientious enough to hide the damn take-out box this nasty-looking lasagna came in.” Korea left the mound of pasta and cheese on the table untouched and was showered and in bed by 9:00 P.M. She lay awake, pondering the source of her stress.

  She was at the office, getting more pissed off by the second, when Grace Riley called to “informally” cancel another city grant because she had found favor in some bitch she was fucking who had developed a program for teenage prostitute decriminalization that sounded remarkably like the one Korea had developed herself. Korea had always thought her relationship with Grace was volatile since there was no sex between them. Korea was old school, so stud-on-stud romance was not in her repertoire of experimentation. But she had given Grace more credit than that. How could she destroy a strong and longstanding relationship for a hot chick right out of grad school? Hadn’t she been faithfully coughing up the sweet kick-back the councilwoman had asked for? The first contract Grace cancelled had been more understandable. Her nephew was fresh out of the penitentiary and needed to get a foot in the political door for his B.O.B. (Back Off Da Block)
project that, like hers, had promised to make businessmen of reformed ballers. Korea respected Grace, but if she got more indication that she was picking her brain for ideas, all bets were off, she told herself.

  The outbreak was signaled by a persistent hot tingling in her upper inner left thigh, a headache, and flu symptoms. The next day, when she received the formal letter by courier from Grace, the bumps came. Korea had not seen them in years, and barely knew what to do about them since it had been so long. Every time she watched the commercial for Valtrex, Korea was embarrassed; especially when Stormy was in bed with her.

  She lay alone in bed, uselessly trying to self-meditate and relax, but the plucking of Stormy’s computer keys resounded from the next room, keeping her alert and agitated until well after midnight.

  Why won’t she just come to bed? Korea thought.

  She wanted to call to Stormy, but she did not want to sound needy or desperate. The television watched her as she tossed and turned, restlessly watching the clock on her nightstand, thinking of her mother, of Grace, of Stormy, and of who was on the other end of the internet consuming her woman’s time. Then she thought of Melody, the only person giving her joy right now, until her eyes were finally overtaken by sleep.

  Slowly, a delicious flood of imagery began to overtake her thoughts as she drifted away. Melody crawled slowly toward her across the blue carpet of her office floor. Her plump, welcoming breasts rubbed against one another and pressed anxiously into the thin silk of a turquoise camisole as her crimson-manicured fingers reached, one after the other across the floor, pulling her long and lean body ever closer. Her tight, muscular ass cheeks seemed to pop to an urban beat that was not playing, drawing her panties between them. Melody’s ass was nice and tight. Korea wondered why she even bothered wearing panties if her ass was going to swallow them whole. Melody’s legs were bare and her feet were dressed in matching turquoise sandals that revealed her red painted toes.

  As Melody crawled, she licked her lips and begged for a taste of Korea’s essence. “Please, Daddy, please,” she said over and over again as she tried to open the soft butch’s thighs.

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with it, if I let you lick it,” Korea said, spreading her full hand over the woman’s face, pushing it away and smudging her red lipstick.

  Melody laughed, a wicked, loaded laugh, smudging the remainder of her lip paint down her chin to her neck. “You would be surprised at what I can do, if you let me. All you have to do is say yes.”

  Melody pressed her face into Korea’s crotch and blew her hot breath through her boss’s pants, sending a hot sensation that stirred her to awaken.

  Korea’s mind opened before her eyes did, taking in the sounds and smells that changed the temperament of the room she had fallen to sleep in. Floetry crooned softly on the stereo; Stormy’s favorite song.

  “All you have to do is say yes, don’t deny what you’re feeling, baby undress….”

  Warm and woody, Nag Champa incense smoke left its unmistakable impression of India in the air. A faint hint of musty Merlot, and the strong scent of China Rain, told her that Stormy had been to visit Body Time, and was nearby. A gentle and persistent light pushed her lids open. The television was silent and projected no light through the darkened room, but the curtain was open, revealing a big yellow moon; perhaps the biggest she’d ever seen. She was becoming acutely aware of the increasing heat under her comforter and the accumulating moisture between her legs.

  “Stormy?” Her lover’s name cracked on her sleepy voice.

  From under the down comforter came a shy, little giggle. “Yes?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Korea snapped, snatching the down comforter off of her body, to find Stormy between her legs, blowing playfully through her boxers.

  “I wanted to…”

  “What are you trying to do? Rape me?”

  “Rape? No, Korea, that’s ridiculous. I’m not trying to rape you. I was just trying to wake you up…and maybe…”

  “It’s rape, if I’m sleeping.”

  “I…I’m sorry,” Stormy said, instantly defeated. “But, I wasn’t trying to rape you.”

  “No? You know the rules. What were you trying to do?”

  “I was…” Stormy crawled from beneath the covers, to her own pillow, and turned her face away. “Forget it.”

  “I will not forget it. What were you doing, if you weren’t trying to fuck me in my sleep?”

  “I was trying to wake you up. I was trying to make love to you. Before I was your pillow princess, I had been known to make love to people from time to time.” Then, sitting up, she looked into Korea’s eyes and said, “I can, if you let me. All you have to do is say yes, baby. Why won’t you?”

  Korea reached for the television remote control.

  “Baby, let’s not watch the TV. Let’s watch the moon. Did you see it? Isn’t it great?”

  “Yeah, it’s real great,” Korea said, aiming the remote at the television; she pressed the little green button.

  “Sorry, I woke you up. You must’ve been saying yes to somebody in your dream; your boxers are real wet.”

  “Finish your wine and get the glass out of here before you fall asleep. It stinks,” Korea snapped.

  Korea lay with her back to Stormy. She was hot and agitated. Stormy was right; that dream of her hot assistant, Melody, had made her very wet and she wished she could finish it with Stormy. Melody was getting really kinky lately. Tuesday, she wore a dog collar and had actually barked for her and whimpered like a bad animal when she’d spanked her with a rolled-up newspaper. That bitch was freaky and innovative. Korea was getting tired of Stormy’s tired old tricks. She wondered how far she could get Melody to go. Her clit was getting hard thinking about it. She squeezed her pelvis tight, trying to make the sensation die. Stormy hadn’t earned her tonight. If her obsession with the fucking computer continued, she was going to find herself on the street.

  I’m glad I’m not a hypochondriac, Stormy thought, watching a sad woman walking down a road that seemed to lead nowhere in an ad for some new depression pill. I have all those symptoms.

  “Are you awake?” Stormy asked, rolling over to spoon Korea from behind. “Can’t sleep, then perhaps you are depressed. We have a pill for that. Getting old, feeling tired, getting fat, getting ugly, need some pussy? We have a pill for that.” Stormy laughed at herself but didn’t get a rise out of Korea. She sat up on the bed and sipped her wine, and watched the screen.

  Another commercial came on. “Oh no, uhn ugh. What the heck is Restless Leg Syndrome?” Korea flipped her pillow to the cool side and scratched her thigh. Stormy looked at Korea. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You got Restless Leg Syndrome? We have a pill for that.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” Korea said into her pillow.

  “Only you.”

  “I’m going to say this to you again and I trust it’ll be for the last time. I would appreciate it if you don’t get on top of me when I’m sleeping. Don’t attempt to insert anything inside of me; no fingers, no tongues, and no inanimate objects, of any kind. If I wanted a man, I would have one.”

  “Okay, Korea. I promise that I’ll never, ever get on top of you when you’re sleeping,” Stormy said, rolling onto her back. “You didn’t touch your lasagna. Weren’t you hungry?”

  “Did you make it?”

  “No, I…”

  “Then why would I eat it?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t.”

  “This relationship isn’t a guessing game, Stormy. All I asked you to do for me when we met was to keep yourself available to me and to take care of home. I promised to do the rest. I’m handling my business, but lately you haven’t been fulfilling any of your promises. It’s like I’m taking a back seat to your computer. This isn’t working.”

  “Tell me about it,” Stormy spoke through a sigh. “But really, baby, I don’t want to fight,” she said, resigning before the fight even began.

  Stormy got
out of the bed, picked up her half glass of Merlot, walked to the sliding patio doors, stepped through them, and onto the balcony. In silence, she sipped her wine and seduced the big yellow moon with her naked body until her sadness was beginning to inebriate itself away.

  Stormy’s glass was getting empty when she began to slowly sway her hips through the cool night air. Her eyes were steadied on the moon that seemed to be winking at her like an exquisite quiche. Way up there on the penthouse balcony, no one could see her. No one could touch her or hear her thoughts. Her eyes swept over the stars as she sipped and pondered upon the source of their dazzling lights and of the clever hands that put them in their places. Stormy was embarrassed, thinking of what the God that designed this midnight sky must have thought of her now. She was ashamed that she was so unworthy to even talk to Him. Even her nakedness, she thought, must have insulted Him.

  But looking down, at the beautiful body God had given her, freed her spirit for a moment. In a sudden burst of confidence she had not known in far too long, she tried to pray. She tried to pray to see if she could get that feeling she had gotten as a child; the feeling that he was listening. Naked on the balcony, full of wine, she prayed.

  “God, most merciful Father, and creator of all, please take a moment to forgive me for my sins. I ask that you make me pure in this moment of magnificence, so that I may be worthy of speaking to you again, after so much time. I understand that with the new life I have chosen, I have strayed far from your plan for me, but I am listening now. Speak to me. I don’t ask of You riches and fame, only for peace and happiness. You know my heart, dear Lord. Please send me someone who appreciates me for more than my subservience, but one who respects my talents. Send me somebody who sees my light and doesn’t try to put it out. Send me somebody with a light that shines as brightly as those stars of yours. I hope you can hear me. If you can hear me, if you can forgive me, if you ever loved me, help me now. Hear me now. Amen.” Stormy waited for a sign; a twinkle in a star, a flash of light or the butterflies she used to feel when she prayed. But nothing happened.