Bob Harrison, that lazy young fellow with little ambition, was selling electric blenders from door to door. It wasn’t lucrative work, but he enjoyed it. He liked walking in the open air and he liked meeting people, whether he made a sale or not. This afternoon he met a remarkable person. He was going from apartment to apartment in a rather run-down tenement, without success. He wasn’t discouraged, for such was not his nature, but he was not hopeful of making a sale. Still, he intended to call on every apartment faithfully. He rang the bell of apartment 3B. A woman opened the door. She was wearing a man’s white shirt with long tails and nothing beneath. Her bare legs were shapely. The top three buttons of the shirt were unfastened and Bob could see her deep cleavage. “Hi,” he said. She peered at him suspiciously. She was a redhead, her hair tumbling in coils and ringlets around her face. She had a wide mouth with a full lower lip and she wore false eyelashes. “Who the fuck are you?” she said. “I’m selling electric blenders,” he said. “Oh, shit.”
“Not interested?”
“Naw. What the fuck do I want with an electric blender? I isn’t got anything to blend in the fucker. Shit.”
“Sorry,” he said. He was about to retreat but she showed no inclination to close the door. “Don’t have a slice of bread, even. Got no money to buy a loaf of bread, you want to sell me a blender.”
“Oh,” said Bob.
She said, “It’s the landlord’s fault.”
“Pardon me,” Bob said, willing to chat.
“The landlord. Slumlord. The geezer that owns this fucking tenement! It’s his fault. See, he let me move in here and I don’t have to pay no rent, which is just as well since I isn’t got any money. So the landlord comes round once a week and I give him a fuck–or sometimes a suck–instead of paying rent. So I figured that was okay. But now that I’m here, I’m trapped. Got no money to move out, you see. And he don’t want me to move out, neither, ugly as he is. Is he ugly! Fat and sweats a lot. Always got dog shit on his shoes. Anyhow, he comes round once a week and he brings a big box of groceries. So I got enough to last me until next week. Except this week I ran short. Had quite an appetite this week. That varies, depending on whether I have to give the landlord a fuck or suck, you know? Lots of calories in cum. Anyhow it’s a hell of a situation.”
“Em… Can’t you get a job?”
“Naw.”
“Welfare?”
“I get my principles. Anyhow, I can’t leave the house; on account of I got no clothes. I only had one dress when I moved in and the landlord took it. He left me this shirt. I don’t even have any fucking underwear,” she said. She proved the truth of that statement. She lifted the tail of the white shirt and Bob found himself looking at a burning bush, her bright-red pubic hair spread lavishly across her white loins. “You seem to be in difficulty,” Bob said. His cock had quivered a bit at the sight of that big, hairy cunt, for he was a potent fellow quite capable of getting an instant hard-on despite all the spunk that he poured into his bride every morning and night. “Yeah, it’s a bitch,” she said. She shook her head and her copper coils cascaded around her face. “On top of everything else, my vibrator broke,” she added. “I beg your pardon?”
“My vibrator. It broke this morning. You know… One of those things that a girl uses to vibrate her clit. It wasn’t so bad being cooped up here while I had the vibrator. I could spend my time buzzing myself off. But now I got nothing to do and the landlord don’t come until tomorrow.”
“I see.”
“I tried finger fucking like I used to do when I was a kid, but it isn’t the same no more. Once a girl gets used to a vibrator, a finger is pretty feeble.”
“I can understand that,” said Bob, and his cock was definitely roaming around his fly now. “Electric toothbrushes are okay, too. But I isn’t got one of them. But wait a minute…you sell electric blenders, huh? “Well, I got no use for a blender. Only thing I could blend in it would be cum.” She giggled at the thought. “The next time that the old bastard wants a blow job I could spit his spunk into the blender and whirl it around and make him drink it!” Bob laughed and his cock lurched.
“But there’s no way in hell I’m going to put my cunt in a blender,” she wait on. “It might feel sort of nice but the last thing mind is a blended pussy. But I got side tracked there for a moment. What I was gonna say is, if you sell blenders, you must know something about electric, huh?”
“Well… A bit.”
“Do me a favor? Have a look at my vibrator; see if maybe you can fix it?”
“All right,” said friendly, gregarious Bob. He entered the apartment.
“I’m afraid of electricity, myself,” she said. “But how else can a girl get vibrated? I’m afraid of heights, too. One time I was fucking this guy, sitting on his dick, see, and I got to thinking about how I was perched up there like a goddamn flagpole sitter and I got dizzy and fell off. Almost snapped his pecker off at the root, too. He was mad.” She trotted off, her ass wriggling around quite pleasantly under the long white shirttails. Bob pushed his prick which was quite rampant by this time, down into his trouser leg so that it wouldn’t stick out too obviously. But he wasn’t awfully concerned, since she had already shown him her cunt, by way of proving that her loins were unencumbered by panties. She came back with the vibrator, a phallic shaped device of plastic with an electric cord sprouting from the hilt. “I call it Elmer,” she said. “My name is Amy.”
“Hello, Amy,” said Bob. He didn’t say hello to Elmer.
“I sure hope you can fix it.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” Bob said, and he took the plastic prick from her. She watched in a hopeful way as Bob unscrewed the socket at the hilt of the vibrator and probed around for loose wires or connections. He could find nothing wrong. He figured this remarkable woman probably had simply used it up, no electrical appliance will work forever, the way that a randy cunt will.
“I can’t see anything wrong. Could you plug it in, please?” Bob said. “Maybe the socket is at fault.”
“Sure,” she said. She took the cord and plug. Bob retained his grip on the hilt of the dildo, swinging it like a nightstick into his other hand, simply because he felt silly holding such a tool. The big knob whacked solidly into his palm and he could imagine how she had whacked it up her big pussy. A cord dangled from the ceiling. The light bulb had been taken out and replaced with a multi-socket fixture. Amy got up on a straight-backed chair so that she could plug the thing into that socket. As she lifted her arms, the tail of her shirt rose up and her blazing bush was again revealed to Bob–this time it was on eye level. Her meaty thighs were parted and Bob could see the juicy slit that bisected that red bush, like a swampy river flowing sluggishly through a forest fire. Her love-bud stood out like a fire tower from the flaming foliage. Bob’s dick was standing out like a fire tower itself, now, dragging the front of his trousers out and up. She plugged it in. He switched it on. The vibrator remained dormant. “That socket might be faulty,” he said. “Is there another place to plug it in?”
“Yeah,” she said.
She jumped nimbly from the chair and moved to the wall. Bob followed like a dog on the electric leash. Amy got down on her hands and knees to plug the cord into the wall socket. Her shirt rose up again and her ass was bared. Bob found it a pleasing ass, taut and trim. He could see her cunt once more, flowing between her thighs. She seemed to be wriggling about more than was absolutely necessary to plug the prongs into the socket but that might, well, to give her the benefit of the doubt, and be because she was nervous of electrical connections. Her ass was very solid and shapely. Bob saw her little brown eye revealed. She pushed the plug in. Nothing. “I’m afraid it’s kaput,” he said. “Oh, dear,” she wailed. She got up again, smoothing the shin down over her supple flanks. As she pulled it down her deep cleavage was revealed further and a rosy nipple slipped into view. She said, “I don’t suppose you could do me a favor?”
“Why not?” said Bob.
He was assuming, naturally enough, that this girl wanted him to take the place of her vibrator. But she said, “could you plug one of your blenders in while I vibrate myself?”
“What?”
Remarkably enough, she looked embarrass ed. She said, “A girl gets used to the humming noise a vibrator makes, you see. The noise is as much a part of it as the actual vibration. So if you could set one of your blenders humming, I could fuck myself with the vibrator and with the proper background sounds it might be okay?’ Bob was amused. He saw what a creature of habit and ritual this woman was. But he didn’t mind adding to her pleasure, for she seemed to have little enough fun in her life. He handed her the vibrator and took a blender from the box. He plugged it in and switched it on. Nothing happened. “Why, there’s nothing wrong with your vibrator,” he said, the truth dawning. “The electricity has been turned off.”
“That bastard landlord!” she cried. “No wonder none of the lights or the radio work!”
“That might have occurred to you.” She was biting her lip.
“I don’t suppose…
Bob waited patiently.
“Could you make a buzzing noise for me?”
Bob had never tried to make a buzzing noise. He considered it. He said; “Buzzzzz … Hummm… Zzzzzz…”
“Oh, yes! Don’t stop!” she cried. She unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off. Naked, she flopped down on the couch, knees uplifted, legs parted. She began to move the snout of the lifeless vibrator against her fat nipples. Her face contorted with passion and the fount between her thighs began to flaw like melting ivory. Bob watched, fascinated, buzzing steadily. Amy slipped the non-vibrating device down her belly and dipped it into her crotch. She rubbed the tip against her clit, and then began to push it in and out of her wet gash. Her pussy slurped as the tool went in and out. Bob was getting interested in his duty as a provider of sound effects. As the dildo disappeared up her hairy hole, he modified the sound, making it more muffled and subdued, as it would have been when buried up that hot box. As it pulled out, he hummed like an angry bumblebee and as it pushed in he flapped his lips moistly. “Ooooo… Ahhhh,” Amy moaned. “Hummmm,” said Bob. Amy was lost to lust and began to thrash about on the couch. She rose up on her knees, head down and ass thrust upwards. She was fucking the plastic prick into her twat steadily, from below. Cunt juice poured down her thighs and soaked the cushions under her belly. Her lovely bottom described geometrics in the air.
Bob whipped his pants open and his prick came charging out like a wounded buffalo. “Buzzz,” he intoned, as he moved to the couch and knelt behind Amy’s heaving buttocks. The background noise undulated from his lips, rising and falling. His cock seemed to be humming, too. The stalk was so taut that it had started to vibrate like a tuning fork and the bloated knob was pealing like a bell. It swayed like a conductor’s baton. He tapped the head against her ass. Amy looked over her shoulder. Bob raised his eyebrows, buzzing merrily away and Amy gave him a smile of affirmation. But her cunt was occupied by the plastic pecker and could not accommodate another tenant. Bob placed his hands on the cheeks of her ass and spread them open. The globes spread, revealing her taut hole. He placed the tip of his tool against that tight hole and hesitated for a moment, but Amy made no objections. Bob began to push his cockhead up her piss-hole. Getting interested in this prelude to buggery, he forgot to buzz for a moment.
“Hum, damn you!” Amy wailed as she lustily crammed the false cock up her snatch. “Hummmm!” Bob intoned: and, inspired by the sound effects, Amy began to wriggle her juicy ass against him. Bob had never buried his dick up an asshole before but the technique seemed simple and he doubted very much if he would be broaching virgin ground. He pushed and her hole fluttered and loosened, He fed her half his knob and paused, buzzing steadily away all the while. She wriggled and heaved, as if trying to impale herself upon his spike. He grasped her by the hipbones, holding her ass steady, and began to forge his passage into her bowels. The fit was snug at first. Then her asshole relaxed, accommodating itself to the bulk of his big dick, and he plunged in to the root. Amy squealed with pleasure. Bob held that full penetration for a moment. She was still pushing the vibrator up her pussy and he could feel the hard plastic tool skim over his cock, separated only by the delicate membrane that divided the twin tunnels. Then he began to fuck into her ass with gusto. His hips corkscrewed as he shoveled his big pecker into that tight crevice and his spunk heavy balls swung in like a bell, slapping into her vibrator-filled crotch with a juicy smack.
Her asshole rippled on him with some magical reverse peristalsis, as if she sought to ingest him from the nether end, pulling his meaty peckerhead right up into her belly. She was slamming her ass back hard as he ground the hunk to her, and then rotating her hips as he drew back, so that her channel was working on his departing prong like a wringer. Bob, potent fellow that he was, was never far removed from the heights of orgasm. He tried to hold back, waiting for Amy. But Amy was inspired threefold–by his cock up her asshole, the vibrator up, her cunt and, as important as any, the steady humming sound he was making. She cried out as she started to cream. Bob pounded violently up her hole, his knob rushing into her bowels. He churned his big rod around just as if her asshole were a bowl and his dick a whirling blender, whipping the contents of her loins to heavy cream. He shot; his hips recoiled as the hot jet sped from his cock head and hosed her bowels. Her cunt overflowed, juice running down her slick thighs in banners and ribbons. Bob poured a second hot jet into her ass, then a third, weaker, a mere trickle.
He drew back and his cock popped from her ass. Her asshole clamped shut and cum bubbled out and ran down into her crotch, where it blended with her cunt juice in a concoction that no blender had ever managed. Amy continued to push the vibrator up her hole until she had milked out. The final ripples of her climax. Then she slid forward, her thighs collapsing, and lay on her belly. She looked back at Bob with a happy smile.
Bob realized that he was still buzzing. He seemed to have got into the habit. He stopped, switching his vocal chords off as if they had an electric switch. “Gee,” she said. “That was fun.” Bob left shortly thereafter, wishing the remarkable woman good fortune with her landlord and her problems. He worked the rest of the afternoon, making one sale and encountering no more women who required his services. Before he went home he stopped at a public restroom and washed his cock clean of the incriminating evidence, for he figured it would be disastrous if his bride were to discover that he had been less than faithful. When he got home, Colleen was waiting. When he asked her how she had spent the day, she smiled mysteriously. But she told him she had visited with Carol and Jennifer, which was true enough. They had a fuck before dinner. Halfway through the fuck, which was a missionary-position job without embellishments, Colleen looked up at him with a mystified expression. “Why on earth,” she said, “are you making that peculiar buzzing sound?”
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