Anita the Collector - Part 2
As I walked through the door, Anita pinched my butt.
“Mmmmmmmmm. Another lamb to the slaughter,” she smiled, her voice quivering with anticipation of future delights.
The first thing I saw when I entered the massive room behind the door was a 70 inch plasma television screen filled with the image of a woman’s lips sliding up and down on a man’s cock. Two naked men were sitting on a sofa watching the movie. Each had a can of beer in one hand and his own cock in the other.
“I love to see a guy jacking off,” sighed Anita, watching with a Cheshire Cat grin as the pair stroked their stiff cocks.
“Nice television,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “And we have an extensive library of porn. Just let me know if we don’t have a title you want and I’ll order it in.”
“So the mail still gets delivered to the house?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she informed me. “The post office stopped sending mailmen after three failed to return. But now they send women. Some of the guys tried to persuade me to invite them in, but I’m not running a charity, I’m running a man harem.”
I looked around the room. There were naked guys everywhere. A couple were riding exercise bikes. Two where playing ping pong. Another pair were shooting pool. Some where reading. Many were drinking and there were snacks laid out on the tables.
Anita walked over to the couch. The two guys moved further apart and she sat between them.
“Good movie?” she asked.
“Not bad,” said the guy on the right.
Anita reached out and knocked the guys hands off of their cocks and replaced them with her own.
“Oh, Anita, you’re the best,” sighed the guy on the left.
“They love it when I wank them off,” she chuckled. “And I love it when I wank them off too. Nothing like the feel of a stiff hot cock in my fist, and its so delicious when the cum shoots out and runs down my fingers.”
The two guys lost interest in what was going on on the screen. Each leaned down and took one of Anita’s nipples in his mouth and began to suck on it hungrily.
“Ain’t anybody gonna suck my pussy?” she enquired.
A muscly dude, who had been lifting weights, put them down, walked over to the couch and dropped down between Anita’s spread thighs, burrowing his face under her big belly and began slurping away noisily.
“Oh, my. Ain’t life grand?” asked Anita, rhetorically. “Feel free to explore. I’ll rejoin you as soon as we’ve all cum.”
I entered another smaller lounge room where a bunch of guys were watching a football match on another large television.
Then there was a shower room much like that in a sporting facility - just a huge tiled room with showerheads sprouting from the walls.
I walked back through the main lounge to explore the other side of the complex. The muscleman was no longer licking Anita’s pussy. Now he was standing up and she was sucking his cock.
As I walked past the two guys on either side grunted simulateously as a fountain of jism spurted out of each of their cocks, splattering their chest and belly and running down over Anita’s hands.
As I walked into the massive kitchen and dining area, complete with long tressel tables, Anita came up behind me. She was smearing cum from her hands all over her massive breasts.
“I don’t like them to cum in my mouth,” she informed me, “but it’s good for the skin.”
“So what’s the secret?” I asked her.
“Why do the guys stay here?”
“I would have thought that was obvious,” she replied.
“Apart from your charm,” I chided her.
“They have everything they want,” she explained. “They don’t have to work. They can drink. Wack off to porn. The food’s good. And they can fuck me whenever they want. Well, almost whenever they want. Sometimes there is a queue.”
“And that’s enough to cut off contact with family and friends?” I wanted to know.
“How many people get on with their family?” she countered. “And if they miss their male friends, they just invite them to join.”
“What about wives and girlfriends?” I asked.
“Modesty forbids that I make any comments about choosing between myself and any other woman,” she demured.
She showed me all of the exotic food ingredients stored in her pantry.
“Once again, the shops will deliver, but no more of those cute pimply delivery boys. Just the women now,” she explained.
Next we entered the bedroom, perhaps the most unusual room in the house.
“This is an invention of my own,” Anita pointed out. “I call it the musical bed.”
She was pointing at a massive bed shaped like a life preserver but approximately 30 feet in diameter. At one point there was an indentation about two feet deep and four feet across.
“It plays music?” I queried.
“No,” she replied. “I call it a musical bed because of that saying that people who sleep around are playing ‘musical beds’. The way it works is that I lay here.” She pointed at the indentation. And eleven men lay around the rest of the matress. When I want some lovin’, I pull the guy on the right on top of me. Then, when he cums, everyone rolls along one space and he rolls off, being replaced by the next guy on the right. And so everyone keeps moving until the first guy is back again, by which time he’s rested enough to be ready to fuck me again. And we keep going until I fall asleep.”
“Wow!” I exclaimed.
“I can be a restless sleeper though,” Anita admitted. “So if I wake up in the middle of the night feeling horny, I just pull on the first guy’s cock and start the process all over again.”
Then she showed me around the backyard where there was a huge swimming pool. Another fifteen guys were swimming or sunning themselves by the side of the pool.
“Ah, here are Craig and Gareth,” she said, pointing to two very pale youths, one skinny and the other rotund, who were sitting on the edge of the pool. “They’re my Mormons. I’ll leave you to have a chat with them while I go make a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”
“Sure,” I replied, and watched Anita’s huge bum wobble deliciously back into the house.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Gareth asked, looking me up and down.
“Yes. Just arrived. So why did you two stay here?” I wanted to know. I sat down beside them and splashed my feet in the cool water of the pool.
“Well, you know that parable about the mustard seed?” responded Craig.
“I think I remember it,” I said.
“We went from door to door trying to persuade people of the wisdom of loving their fellow man,” he explained. “But most people just didn’t want to know. Then we knocked on Miss Anita’s door and we found someone who really does love her fellow man.”
“She sure does,” agreed Gareth. “So we decided it made more sense to support her efforts to make the world a better place, than to keep pestering people and, thereby, making it a worse place.”
“And you’ve never had any doubts?” I queried. “Never even considered leaving?”
“No,” he replied.
“The church repossessed our bikes,” added Craig.
“And Anita destroyed our clothes,” Gareth put in.
“Only to liberate thus though.”
“Yeah, only to liberate us.”
“Those two aren’t telling tales about me, are they?” queried Anita, as she returned with the coffees.
“To believe these fellows, you are a veritable saint,” I told her.
“St. Anita of the Holy Handjob perhaps?” she chuckled. “Hey you boys need to keep putting on that sunscreen. You’ll be red as lobsters by the end of the day otherwise. And don’t forget your cocks.”
“Why don’t you do us?” asked Gareth.
“Of course,” replied Anita, squeezing out the sunscreen and smearing it over the lads’ chests and backs. “But you know my favourite way of coating your cocks, don’t you?”
“You bet,” cried Craig enthusiastically.
Anita stood up and turned around. Then she bent over and shoved the mouth of the suncreen container up her arse and squeezed hard. When she pulled it out there was white creamy liquid dripping down her legs.
“Who’s going to be first?” she asked, spreading her butt cheeks wide apart.
“Me! Me!” cried Gareth, pushing Craig out of the way. Both of their cocks were rock hard. As was mine.
Gareth leapt forward and with an ecstatic sigh sank his prick deep into Anita’s sunscreen-filled arsehole.
“MMMmmmm,” sighed Anita. “Nothing says ‘love’ like a penis poking your poop chute.”
Gareth reached around and played with Anita’s clit as he slapped his thighs against her massive arse.
“Give the other guys a chance,” she said. “We don’t want anyone getting a sunburnt willy.”
So Gareth stepped aside and Craig slid his stiff prick home. Meanwhile Gareth grabbed his own slippery cock and wanked off until he spurted his cream over Anita’s thigh.
“All my boy’s love to wank,” giggled Anita, as Craig continued to fuck her butt.
Then it was my turn. Craig stepped aside and I felt the warm flesh of her wet slippery butthole close around my rock hard length.
“Come on Dirty Bert!” cried Anita. “I want to feel you spurt!”
Craig and I came simultaneously. He over Anita’s belly and me up her bum.
Just then there was a ring on the doorbell.
“That’ll be the new maid,” Anita informed me, as she wiped off the residue of our lust.
I followed her back into the house.
To be continued...