BillyRose and Eve : Tattooed Lesbian Wrestlers (An Aussiescribbler VidCapToon)

Time for another of my old VidCapToons from the Girls Out West website.

This time I've decided to change the formatting by separating the images and posting them down the page to make them easier to read. Let me know if you prefer them this way.

The Horny Planet Guide to Global Bonking : Fuck Me Friday

The day : Friday. The place : Funny Boners. The event : Fuck Me Friday. The prompt word : Sight.

Check out Aisling Weaver's site to read all about this event and check out all the exciting contributions. And, remember, we're writers, we're insecure, if you don't comment we'll assume you hate us. :oP

The Horny Planet Guide to Global Bonking

(The following are some brief excerpts from chapters in this most excellent travel guide).

Introduction

Travelling doesn't come cheap these days. You want to get more bang for your buck. You want to see the sights. But you want more. You want the experience of a life-time. You want an adventure. You want some photo opportunities that aren't safe for work.

With the help of this travel guide you will be able be the dirty foreigner in someone else's country for a change. Where is the nearest place to buy condoms if you get horny looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? Is wife-swapping still obligatory among the Inuit? Which district in Tokyo has the cheapest used panty dispensers? Which clubs in Afghanistan hold Wet Burkha Nights? You won't find any of this in Fodor's or Frommer's. Our writers do dirty things in glamorous places so that you can too!

France


by Reg Northrop

Virtually all French people know how to speak English. But they won't speak English to you. They'll pretend they don't understand. I have my own patented way of dealing with this. I go up to the nearest Frenchman and ask, "Do you share your mother's prodigious talent for sucking cock?" If he kicks me in the balls then I know that he understand's English, so, once I regain my ability to speak, I ask him for directions to the tomb of Victor Hugo. If, on the other hand, he winks at me and replies, "Mais oui, mon cheri!", I make a run for it.

*         *         *

You can have a lot of fun in the Louvre. Malcolm the photographer joined Tracy and I for a bit of arty sight seeing. It was my job to create diversions to distract the guards. Meanwhile Malcolm snapped photos of Tracy licking the cocks of famous statues like Balthazar Keller's Adonis, Francois Joseph Bosio's Aristée, etc. Then it was Tracy's turn to distract the guards while I went around some of the female statues sucking nipples and licking pussies and butt cracks.

*          *         *

It was Tracy who insisted we fuck on the top of the Eiffel Tower. Whenever she sees something standing up straight and tall it gets her thinking.

It's actually easier than you might think. The view is so spectacular, who's going to be looking at anything else? I eased Tracy's skirt up and her panties down, unzipped my jeans, opened the fly of my y-fronts and slid in my rock hard six inches. (Well, hey, I'm a travel writer, not a porn star you know!) She leaned up against the metal railing as we looked down at the ant-like humans scurrying about below. All around us fellow tourists jostled us and snapped off their photos, but no-one noticed what we were doing. Tracy's juicy wet pussy massaged my hot stiffness. We had to be a bit careful not to move too wildly, but the excitement of the situation was enough to bring us to the boil pretty quickly. I owe my climax to a fat American woman who jostled me from behind at just the crucial moment, causing me to slam hard into Tracy's cunt and fill it full of jism. I staggered back in the throws of ecstasy, accidentally leaving Tracy bent over the railing with her bare arse in the air and cum dribbling down her legs.

"Now I know why they call it the Eyeful Tower!" exclaimed the husband of the fat woman.

The USA

by Bazza Kenneally

They call the United States "the Land of the Free", but in most cases, you'll find you do have to pay for things.

*          *          *

The first sight I checked out was the Statue of Liberty. I thought it would be appropriate to take a few liberties with a trio of Swedish backpacker chicks. They weren't too sure of what the inscription said. Their English wasn't good. I explained that it said, "This area is clothing optional." I introduced myself as the head of the Girls Gone Crazy empire and offered them $5,000 to streak around Liberty Island. Got some great footage of bouncing boobs and wobbling bums. I bet they are still checking the letterbox daily for that cheque.

*           *          *

"Just because we're at Mt. Rushmore doesn't mean it has to be a quickie," I quipped to Pam, the hot brunette cougar in whose RUV I'd hitched a ride.

"I don't do quickies," she informed me with an evil smile as she locked the door and pushed me down onto the bed. "You really should be careful when you hitch a ride. I'm a serial killer. The badlands of America are strewn with the unmarked graves of men I've fucked to death."

I'm not sure she was kidding. She was the most uninhibited woman I'd ever met. When she picked me up she was driving naked with a vibrator buzzing away in her pussy.

"Mind changing the batteries for me?" she asked. "By the way, the name's Pam."

Several times she got stopped by the police for driving erratically while orgasming. She never got a ticket. But those cops sure got their cocks sucked.

She had more energy than I did, so I lay back on the bed and let her ride me cowgirl fashion. She had nice big tits, a bit droopy, but that just made it all the more exciting to watch them swaying back and forth as she fucked me. Her hairy pussy slammed down over my cock again and again until finally I spurted deep inside her. Then she sucked me back to erection again and fucked me all over. When I couldn't get it up a third time she cuddle up to me and talked dirty in my ear while she masturbated herself to orgasm another five times. That's when I fell asleep. When I woke up she was just coming in the door. She explained that, after I'd fallen asleep, she dressed and headed to the local country and western bar where she hooked up with the band and went back to their place for a gang bang.

Thailand

by George Armstrong

The Thais are very open-minded about sex. In fact it is enshrined in their Constitution. Article 53, paragraph 65, says "It doesn't matter what you do sexually, as long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the elephants."

This doesn't mean you are not allowed to have sex in the streets. When this article was tested in court it was found that two things were needed for such an act to be illegal - 1. That it take place in the street - and - 2. That it frighten at least one elephant. Don't frighten any elephants and you can do what you like in the street. Thai elephants are themselves pretty broadminded and not easily frightened by human sexual activity, however, if you are planning to try anything outlandishly kinky, it might be best to slip any nearby elephants a couple of valium just to be on the safe side.

*          *          *

When attempting to pick up in Thai nightclubs the issue of gender identity can crop up. It is important to remember that not everyone in a Thai nightclub who has a penis will necessarily be a ladyboy.

*          *          *

Clarice was an American tourist I met at the hotel. She'd come to Thailand to learn the art of Thai massage. I met her on my last evening.

I was sitting in my room working on my notes for this chapter while sipping at a scotch on the rocks when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called, expecting it to be a member of the hotel staff come to remind me about when I had to check out the next morning.

In walked Clarice, a fresh-faced blonde with rosy cheeks and pig-tails, wearing a tie-dye t-shirt and harem pants.

"I'm just going around the hotel getting to know my fellow guests," she explained. "You don't meet anyone new if you don't make an effort to mix."

"I'm very glad to meet you," I replied. "Are you enjoying your holiday?"

"Very much so," she explained. "I came here to learn massage and I've learned a lot. Would you like to be one of my test subjects?"

And that is how I ended up laying back on the bed stark naked with an equally naked Clarice pummelling and pressing my every muscle.

"Can I confess something?" she asked, blushing.

"Sure," I said.

"I love masturbating guys," she giggled.

"You're not just saying that because my cock is in such obvious need of relief?" I queried.

"No," she told me as she wrapped her fist around it and began pumping it up and down. "I checked with the staff about which single guys are leaving tomorrow and I'm going around making sure that their holidays have a happy ending!"

The End

The Girl Who Played With Herself : Fuck Me Friday

The Aussiescribbler is back from an unwanted absence during which the word "fuck" has mainly been aimed at his broken down computer. Now it is time for another Fuck Me Friday tale of filthy fun. The prompt word is #peek. You can find out more and read the other entries at Aisling Weaver's site. And if you like what they've given you a peek at, make sure to let them know.

The Girl Who Played With Herself

Lisbeth Salamander never paid porn site subscriptions. That was one of the fringe benefits of being a professional computer hacker. She hacked into the billing company's computers and signed herself up using the names and identities of government ministers or members of the clergy.

Lisbeth had a boyfriend, a young investigative journalist named Michael Plumfist, but she was one horny goth. Being fucked twice a night just whetted her appetite, and if she couldn't sleep she would log onto the net and look for something to wank to.

She loved wanking, and she loved porn. She also liked to be comfortable. Sweden can be pretty cold, but Lisbeth had central heating so she was able to sit cross-legged on her computer chair wearing nothing but her spiky dog collar as she played with herself while gazing at sexy women and men doing all the naughtiest things. She had all sorts of toys, but she liked to use her fingers best. She knew just how to give herself pleasure - gently pulling on her nipple piercings, rubbing around and around on her clit and sometimes sticking a lubed finger up her butthole. She always laughed at Michael insisting on using his own keyboard when accessing information stored on her computer. He was such a tease. Hadn't he stuck his tongue up her butthole plenty of times?

Michael had been working hard on a big case involving government corruption and was sound asleep in their bed, which was up against the far wall. He might be asleep, but Lisbeth suspected he was dreaming of her. How else could she explain the fact that his cock had turned the bed sheet into a tent worthy of Barnum and Bailey? She was tempted to go have a peek, but she knew that, if she did, she wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to touch it, maybe kiss or lick it, perhaps wank it up and down with her fist, or even bounce her cunt on it. If she did that he would surely wake up, and she knew he couldn't get by without his rest. Much better to content herself with a bit of visually assisted wanking.

"Watch real people doing rude things while they look at porn! They don't know anyone is peeking!" screamed an ad for a website.

Lisbeth chuckled to herself. People were so gullible. They wanted to think they were seeing something illicit and the web masters would always promise it, but, of course, it was all fake. They would have a bunch of models sitting in front of webcams masturbating, but not acknowledging the screen, so that it looked like they were being spied on without their knowledge. The oldest trick in the book. But, what the hell, some of them might be cute, and she wasn't going to pay for it anyway.

Getting herself a membership was the work of but two minutes, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with lightning speed. One strange coincidence did impress itself upon the lust-filled landscape of her mind. The real name of the company behind the site was Phoenix, the same name as the manufacturer of her computer. Still, it was a common enough name in the world of business.

The blurb on the opening page claimed that the individuals depicted inside did not even know that their web cams were on. They were truly being filmed without their knowledge. "Ever wondered what girls really do when looking at porn or reading emails from their boyfriends?" it asked. Apparently there were guys on the site, too, but Lisbeth realised that no-one wondered what they did when looking at porn. Everyone knew.

There was a ranking for most popular cams. So Lisbeth went straight to the top of the list, already starting to rub pussy juice around her stiff clit as she double clicked on the link, anticipating some hot action.

What she saw was her own face leering back at her.

*          *          *

Barton Banger was the head of Phoenix Global, the world's fourth largest computer manufacturer. He prided himself that, while his company was only the fourth largest, it was the most unscrupulous. His latest dastardly scheme had been to install web cams in his computers which, when the user was connected to the internet, could be controlled from his central offices in Zurich. Most of the time, nothing of interest was revealed, but sometimes he was able to obtain pictures with which he could blackmail the computer users, and at other times he lucked onto hot individuals of either sex who spent a lot of time wanking to internet porn. These connections provided the basis for his Peek at the Peekers porn site.

The most popular girl on the whole site for the last month had been some super hot Goth chick named Salamander. Hell, Barton and rubbed a few out to her himself. She had enthusiasm. She wanked like a wild thing. And memberships were going up and up through word-of-mouth (or rather word-of-email) because of her.

"She's putting in quite a performance today," he commented to Miss Bergman, his officious secretary.

"Yes she is," she replied matter-of-factly, watching Lisbeth finger herself.

"Do you ever do that?" he asked her, trying to peek down the minimal cleavage revealed by her sensible business shirt.

"When you first asked me that question, Mr. Banger, my answer was that it was not an appropriate question for the head of a major computing firm to ask his secretary," she explained patiently. "The fact that you have persisted in asking me the same question another sixty seven times in no way alters my initial judgement."

"Prude..." he muttered under his breath.

*          *          *

Never had Lisbeth been so glad that she was an expert at one-handed typing. She wanted to find out how this scam operated, but she didn't want to attract attention, so she kept on wanking as she hacked. She didn't have to pretend. She'd never been so turned on in her life. The thought that thousands of guys and probably women too, all over the world were watching her finger herself was driving her crazy with lust. She was the most popular! Perhaps she had been stiffening cocks and clits for months without realising it. She wondered how many litres of hot cum had spurted out of guy's cocks while they watched her writhing around with her finger up her arse. But she mustn't let her excitement interfere with her hacking. She had to find out who was behind this.

"Hmmm... Barton Banger, hey?" she said to herself as she licked the juice of another cum off of her finger tips.

*          *          *

"Is she still masturbating?" asked Barton when he returned from his extended lunch.

Miss Bergman looked up at the screen.

"No, not at the moment," she replied. "She seems to be talking."

"Talking?" queried Banger. "What about?"

Miss Bergman turned up the sound.

"About you, sir," she answered.

"Me?!?!" he cried. "She shouldn't be talking about me! Why would she be talking about me? What is she saying?"

"She appears to be reading out your credit card details," Miss Bergman informed him, coolly.

"My what!!!???" he screamed, red in the face.

"Oh, and your home phone number..." she added.

*          *          *

Once Lisbeth had finished righting wrongs she began to consider the upside of this situation. It would take a while for Banger to close down the network. In the mean time Lisbeth wanted to keep together her fan base. Not everyone would be as happy about having been an unknowing porn star as she was, but she also hoped she could help anyone who did like the idea to keep in touch with their fans too.

It didn't take her long to collect an email list of all the customers and all the "performers". She wrote an email explaining what had happened and explaining that she would use one of the many under-utilized hard drives on a government computer network to keep the webcam switchboard going for any who still wanted to take part. She especially emphasised to her fans that she wanted them to keep watching her. She told them that, now she knew they were watching, she was determined to stick lots of things up her bottom. And she also said that she would love for it to be two-way. She couldn't watch all of her thousand or more fans jack off to her, but she intended to watch as many as she could.

She ended up staying up all night, and when Michael woke up the next day he found that his goth girlfriend was now the mistress of ceremonies of a world-wide web of wanking.

"Don't look! Don't look!" she insisted, as he came over to see what she was up to. "It's a surprise!"

He covered his eyes, but poked her impatiently in the shoulder with his erection. He was, however, careful to keep it away from her spiky dog collar.

"O.K. You can look now!" she said. "Meet my girlfriends!"

Michael opened his eyes to find the whole of Lisbeth's computer screen covered with small windows in which women of all shapes, ages and colours were shamelessly wanking, sucking on their nipples and sticking things up their bottoms.

"Well, say hi!" she insisted.

"They can see me?" he asked.

"Of course," she huffed impatiently, "now wave your lovely cock at them. They deserve encouragement."

A bunch of comments started appearing in a chat window down the bottom of the screen. "Nice cock!" "Don't I make you want to stroke it?" and "Wank that willy!"

Michael laughed and began stroking his hard cock as he looked at all those horny women.

"Why don't you show your girlfriends that you're a sucker for cock," he suggested, gently turning Lisbeth's head and pressing his hard-on against her lips, while taking care to rest, rather than skewer, his balls on the spikes of her dog collar.

She dropped down, opened her mouth and began licking his balls as a river of pre-cum ran down the side of his cock. Then she licked all the way up to the head, making sure to gather up all the glistening liquid as she went. Finally she planted a warm kiss on his sensitive head. But she didn't go on to give him what he really wanted.

"I'll show you how much of a sucker I am for cock!" she cried. "Look at my other friends!"

She hit a button and all of a sudden the screen was covered with images of guys jacking off.

"Billy's my favourite!" she exclaimed, clicking on one frame so that it expanded to fill the screen. On it a fit young man who looked like a surfer was gyrating around while stroking the biggest cock Michael had ever seen. After a minute he cried out, "Oh, Lisbeth!" and spurt after spurt of creamy cum shot out of the end and splattered all over his nut-brown muscular chest.

"I didn't really need to see that!" insisted Michael.

"Oh, but I did!" she teased, slapping him on the arse.

She brought back the bank of women.

"So who's your favourite wanker woman?" she asked.

"You," he insisted, kissing her on the head and inserting a finger up her dripping wet pussy.

"I know that, stupid!" she replied. "I mean from my fan club."

Michael thought a moment and then pointed at a redhead in her mid-forties who had really lovely big soft pale boobs and a cheeky smile on her face as she sat with one leg pulled up so that the foot was on her office chair and the other stretched out along the ground. "She looks like an older version of my gym teacher from when I was in college," he explained. "And I always did want to see Mrs. Stokes masturbate."

Lisbeth made the web cam image go full screen.

"Michael thinks you look like his old gym teacher," she informed the woman.

"I don't believe it!" cried the woman. "I thought it looked like you, Michael. I always wondered what the schlong that flopped around in your gym shorts would look like angry!"

"It's a class reunion!" laughed Lisbeth.

"Now you be good to that boy!" insisted Mrs. Stokes. "He deserves to have his cock sucked. I just wish I could do it! Yum!"

And so that is how Michael Plumfist ended up filling his girlfriend's mouth with cum while his sexy ex-gym mistress looked on and wanked off.

"This could be a great tool for networking in other ways," he told Lisbeth later as they chatted with their fans. "I have to fly to Helsinki the day after tomorrow to research my new story. Maybe we have a fan who lives there who would be willing to put me up."

"There's a girl named Katti who lives in Helsinki. She's only eighteen, but she has her own flat. Here she is," she added, calling up the image of a blonde girl with her hand down her pink panties. "I'll see what she thinks of the idea."

"Very nice," declared Michael looking her over.

"She seems to like the idea," Lisbeth told him. "I'll just turn up the sound again."

"I put him up," said the smiling girl in broken English. "I put him up my bum!"

"There won't be much time for extra-curricular activities," Michael declared. "If I'm going to break the story of price fixing in the pharmaceutical industry of Finland I'm going to need to do some deep probing."

"And if you want free accommodation while you're there I think you are definitely going to have to do some deep probing," Lisbeth pointed out. Then she laughed so hard she fell off her chair.

The End

Jolly Rogering! : Wank Wednesday

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Cop a Feel Day : Fuck Me Friday

Thank Fuck it's Friday! Well, no, actually, it's Saturday, because I'm late with my story. Fuck Me Friday is a writing challenge created by Aisling Weaver. Check her site for the rest of the entries :

Cop a Feel Day

Maxi-Mart was a very popular supermarket chain, and the branch in the seaside suburb of Glenrose was always busy. But it had never been so busy as it was today. Because today was Cop a Feel Day, a day during which customers could "cop a feel" of the sexy staff in return for a donation to a charity which was helping the homeless. The staff always looked forward to Cop a Feel Day. It sure broke up the monotony of working the checkouts and stacking the shelves.

Bev's checkout line was longer than everyone else's. That was just something that happened on these days. Bev had a big soft pair of boobs which were a real delight to squeeze through her pale blue cotton uniform.

Finally it was time for Gareth to pay for his container of orange juice.

"Hi, Gareth," she greeted him cheerfully. "Come to grope my goodies, have you?"

"You bet," he replied. "My favourite day of the whole month." He slipped a $20 note into the collection box.

"Have a treat for being so generous," she told him, unzipping her uniform and letting him fondle the soft bare flesh of her bosom where it spilled out of her lacy bra."

"That was awesome!" he exclaimed.

"Did you pop a boner?" she asked cheekily.

"I sure did," he replied.

"Then you go home and play with it on me, honey," she told him, as she turned to serve the next customer.

Alex was bending down to pack the bottom shelf with tins of beans when an attractive middle-aged redhead in a denim skirt came up behind him and squeezed his butt cheeks.

"You have to make a donation," he explained, turning towards her.

"Off course," she responded, pulling out her purse.

Alex had a bit of a thing for cougars. He liked the look of this lady.

"If you make it $50," he told her, "I'll let you put your hand down the front of my pants and feel my bare cock." It wasn't so much a generous offer on his part, as a gambit to reach half way to heaven for him. All the way would have been to have her pull his cock right out of his pants and wank him off over the pile of baked bean tins. But there were limits to what management would allow.

"You really know the way to a chick's heart," she smiled, putting the money in the tin and sliding her slim cool hand down his jeans and onto his hot hard cock. She left it there as long as she could, and when she pulled it back out the tips of her fingers were wet with pre-cum. She licked them off and then wrote her name and address and phone number on the back of her shopping list and handed it to him. "Feel free to come over to my place some time," she told him, "then I'll show you the way to a chick's cunt."

Alex couldn't believe his luck. That was one offer he'd definitely be taking up.

Terence had always fancied Penny, so he made a bee-line for her check out. He place a $100 note in the collection box.

"Wow!" cried Penny, blushing at the compliment. "I should really suck you off for a donation that big, but unfortunately that's against the rules."

"You're worth all the gold in China!" exclaimed Terence. He looked into her eyes and let out a sigh of adoration. Then he squeezed her small firm tits through her uniform.

"I've got to give you more," insisted Penny. "Want to spank me?"

"On the bare arse?" he asked, hopefully.

"No, unfortunately we aren't allowed to bare any intimate flesh," Penny informed him regretfully. Then she brightened up. "But I can lift my skirt and let you slide your hand down the back of my panties. If your finger goes in my butt hole or right under and up my twat I promise not to press charges."

So Terence reached over the counter and slid his hand down the back of her white Cottontails. He spent a couple of minutes playing with her warm wrinkled little butthole and slid his fingers in and out of her slippery wet pussy. It was tantalising, but ultimately frustrating, for them both.

"Maybe we could get together for a drink sometime," suggested Terence.

"I don't drink," Penny informed him. "But a fuck would be great!" She wrote her details on the back of a store business card.

At the end of the day they had raised $10,000 for the homeless.

Carol, the manageress, a leggy blonde in her forties counted up the takings in the back room as the staff filed in for debriefing. It wasn't just their briefs they took off though, it was everything.

"Seeing people being so generous to those less fortunate makes me so horny!" exclaimed Bev, masturbating her juicy cunt shamelessly as she watched the others strip. She was a big girl all over - tits, bum and heart. She couldn't wait to share herself with her horny work mates. By now they were all nude. Penny was doing a gogo dance, shaking her pink jiggly bottom and bouncing boobs. Alex was watching and stroking his stiff cock appreciatively. Samantha, an emo girl who worked the smallgoods section bent down to suck off Kent the delivery man. Kent hadn't been part of the charity activities, but he was always keen to join in staff social activities, especially when those activities involved filling the mouth of a girl half his age with jism.

When Carol had finished counting the money she stripped off and walked over to Alex, grabbing him by the cock and dragging him over to the side of the room.

"If you want that raise you're after," she growled, "then you better eat the boss's cunt." Alex didn't really need any bribe to go down on the sexy Carol. Which was a good thing, because Carol had no intention of actually giving him a raise. Not in his pay anyway.

The End

Going Ape! : Wank Wednesday

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Tit for Tat : Fuck Me Friday

Time once more for a filthy Fuck Me Friday fable. Check out the other contributions at Aisling Weaver's site.   If you want to be horny all weekend you'll have found the right place. And make sure to tell the authors if their work touched you where you like to be touched.

Tit for Tat

So I'm a compulsive hoarder. Sue me! It's my unit and if I want to step over piles of junk rather than feel the pain of separation involved in disposing of it that's my business.

Annette no doubt meant well when she asked why I didn't weed my possessions a little, but still it annoyed me.

Annette is my new neighbour. We live in a block of ten units in a quiet seaside suburb. A week after she moved in she knocked on my door and introduced herself. I'd seen her moving in and a couple of times since then. She was a brunette with an English rose complexion and a warm infectious smile. She also had massive breasts. Nothing grotesque mind you, but cantaloupe size. Russ Meyer would have considered her to be talented. She liked to wear plaid shirts that were a little too small so that the buttons seemed in danger of popping off at any moment and she always kept the top buttons undone to show some creamy pale cleavage.

She wasn't one of those top-heavy girls either, her boobs were balanced with a big bum which filled out her tight jeans like an over-stuffed sofa. Whether she was walking towards me or walking away she was swinging something that made my cock swell warmly.

"Ooooh, brandy. I wouldn't say no," she said as she entered my cluttered lounge room and saw a bottle on the coffee table.

"Of course," I replied. "I'll get some glasses." And so I wove my way between stacks of comics, piles of VHS tapes and old pizza boxes as I headed for the kitchen.

"What a lot of junk!" exclaimed Annette as I handed her a glass. She was holding one of my comics, and surveying the piles on all sides.

"I collect things," I replied. "It's a hobby."

"It's a fire hazard is what it is," she told me. "Do you actually read these comics?"

"When I buy them I do," I responded, not sure why I should feel so defensive.

"And then you just leave them piled around gathering dust?" she asked. "They won't keep well if you don't put them in acid-proof bags."

"You sound like you collect comics yourself," I commented.

"No, but I sell them sometimes," she explained. "I make my money selling stuff on e-bay. I buy up odds and sods from deceased estates and auction them off on the net."

"You can live on that?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "It's time consuming but there's good money in it. And its exciting because you never know when you are going to hit the jackpot with a rare collector's item."

"Well," I said, "I don't think I could part with any of my stuff. Everything has memories."

"Including the pizza boxes?" she asked. "Sorry, don't mind me. I can be a bit rude at times. Really, it's your life. You do what you want."

Annette was something of a gardener and I would see her pruning the roses or picking weeds out of the strip of lawn between the two rows of units. Other times we would meet up at the letter box after the postie had been. Her face always lit up when she saw me. She smiled warmly, and her eyes twinkled as she exchanged small talk in an almost conspiratorially embracing manner. And she always seemed to stand just a little bit closer than I was entirely comfortable with. She had such an effusively affectionate manner that I felt as if, had she been a small dog, she would have been humping my leg.

Don't get me wrong. This made me uncomfortable only because I was unused to getting this kind of response from a woman. If I'd been a small dog I would have wanted to hump her leg too. But I'm not the kind of guy women generally pay much attention to. Short and chubby, with too little hair on my head and too much everywhere else, I'm often compared to the actor Paul Giamatti. My ex-girlfriend said I was cute and cuddly, but you won't find guys like me as centrefolds in Playgirl.

The other thing that impressed me about Annette was her perfume. I don't know what brand it was, but it was genuinely intoxicating, a mix of musk and cinnamon and wildflowers.

With her smile and her smell and her boobs and her bum and her standing so close, I felt such an impulse  just to grab her by the letterbox. But I was so unsure of myself after several years on my own. What if her warm, intimate manner with me was the way she was with everyone? I didn't want to embarrass myself by doing anything rash.

But then, one morning, I stumbled into the lounge room while eating from a bowl of cereal and noticed that something was different. Something was missing.

It took a while for me to realise what it was. It was my copy of the issue of The Puzzler in which he took on his arch enemy Sodoku Man. It had been on the top of the biggest pile of comics. It's absence was made all the more obvious because the issue underneath it was not coated in dust as the comics which topped the other piles were.

As I looked around I found that that was not all that was missing. A total of 23 comics, 5 vintage issues of Playboy, a collector's guide to Matchbox Cars and an autographed picture of David Hasselhoff were gone.

The crime rate in the district in which I live is not high, and our units are close together with front doors facing the central strip of lawn, so that any thief would run the risk of being observed. So many of us are in the habit of leaving our doors unlocked when we are asleep. Someone must have snuck in and stolen my stuff. But who?

Then I noticed it. The smell. The smell of Annette's perfume. Of course she should have been the first suspect, since she had knowledge and motive. But until I noticed the perfume I didn't think of her. I didn't want to think that she might steal from me. Maybe that was why she had been so friendly. Maybe she was just buttering me up to get access to my saleable items.

What was I going to do? Confront her? Yes. But I couldn't get her boobs and butt out of my mind. I wanted revenge for this invasion and theft, but I also wanted Annette.

Then it struck me like lightning. What's good for the gander is good for the goose. Tit for tat. If she could sneak into my unit and take something of mine, then that gave me permission to sneak into hers and steal something. But what? A pair of panties maybe. But that wasn't really what I wanted. I wanted her.

Maybe I should just go over there and walk in unannounced. If I was lucky, I might find her in a skimpy nightie or maybe I could walk into the bathroom while she was in the shower. I wasn't likely to be that lucky, but either way, I had an advantage over a sexy woman. She owed me. That couldn't be be a bad thing.

I had right on my side. I was not going to be deterred from righting the wrong that had been done against me.

I walked up to her door, turned the knob and walked straight in.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to... I apologise... I'll go right now," I stammered when I saw that Annette was sitting stark naked on a recliner in her living room with her legs spread and pleasuring her dripping wet pussy with a Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator.

"Don't do that," she insisted. "Be sociable and stay. Make yourself comfortable. Take your clothes off."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"No need to do that, you didn't do anything wrong," she told me. "You're always welcome to visit me. You're my favourite neighbour. Now get your gear off. You must feel over-dressed. You'll find that my central heating is very efficient. You won't be cold."

"O.K., if you insist," I mumbled, beginning to unbutton my shirt. As I undressed she continued to moan happily as she buzzed herself.

"If I were having a cup of tea, I'd do the neighbourly thing and offer you a cup," she told me. "But I'm not, I'm having a wank. Can I offer you one?"

"A wank?" I asked.

"Yes, how do you like your wanks? A straight hand job, or do you like some tit with it?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, I like mine with plenty of tit," I replied. "Especially the thick creamy kind. None of that slimmer rubbish."

"Well, you're in luck," she enthused. "I have lashings of creamy tit for your wank."

By now I was naked. My cock was as hard as a rock and dribbling precum on the carpet.

"Dear, dear, you are a messy boy," she chuckled. "Now bring that thing here."

I came up close to her and she put down her wand and grasped my cock in her soft warm hand, slowly beginning to stroke it up and down.

"Is there anything else you like with your wank?" she enquired.

"Well, I am quite partial to sweet sticky buns," I told her.

"I've got plenty of honey in the kitchen," she informed me, "so that shouldn't be a problem. But you will have to have your sweet sticky buns after your wank, because I'm not a contortionist."

Then she let go of my cock and grasped one of my butt cheeks in each hand and pulled me to her chest so that my cock was between her big soft pale boobs. When I was in place she let go of me and pushed her boobs together around my cock. It felt heavenly. Her soft breasts were so silky against the hot hardness of my prick. As I stood there, leaning in to her, she drew her boobs up and down my cock. I thrust my pelvis to compliment the boob wank she was giving me. And as she moved her boobs up and down she kissed my chubby hairy belly and stuck her tongue in my navel.

All of the erotic energy that had been building in me since I met Annette was coming to a dizzying peak as I stood in her lounge room fucking her boobs. It wasn't long before I climaxed and my balls shot spurt after spurt of hot cum all over the upper slopes of her magnificent mammaries.

"You're not the only one who likes loads of cream with a wank," she grinned, bending forward to slurp and lick up all of the cum that was dribbling from my wilting cock. She then smeared the cum on her boobs down over her stiff pink nipples and sucked it off, first from one and then the other.

"Wasn't that better than a cup of tea?" she asked. "I'll go prepare your sweet sticky buns now." And she ran off to the kitchen.

When she returned she told me to sit down in the chair and then turned to face away from me. Her big pale wobbly arse was all coated in honey.

"No need to say grace," she insisted. "Just dig in."

I bent forward and began licking up all of the honey off of the big soft cheeks of her bottom.

"Mind if I stroke while you eat?" she asked politely.

"Not at all," I assured her.

And so, as I buried my face in the sweet goo all over her bottom, licking and dribbling and feeling the tickling sensation of honey dripping from the end of my nose, she began alternately playing with her stiff clit and sliding her fingers into her already half-wanked cunt.

By the time I was pulling apart her big cheeks and digging my tongue deep into her bum-hole to suck out the last vestiges of sweet honey, she was squealing her way through a body shaking orgasm.

Once our lust was sated we had a shower together to wash off all the sweat and cum. I don't think there was any honey left. I was pretty thorough licking that heavenly bottom of hers. The same bottom that rubbed all over my semi-erect prick when she had to bend down to pick up the soap.

Afterwards we sat around nude in the living room and chatted about all kinds of things.

"Yes, I did steal some of your tat and sell it on ebay," she confessed. "I didn't think you would notice. I was going to tell you later in hopes that it would teach you a lesson."

"I knew it was you because I could smell your perfume," I explained.

"Vanity. It'll get you every time," she sighed.

"I love your perfume though," I insisted. "Of all the people I know in the world, you're the one that looks best and the one that smells the best. And now I know you also feel the best."

"That's so sweet," she smiled. "I think we can be good neighbours. Feel free to drop in and hang out anytime. You're always welcome. Don't bother to knock. The only thing I insist on is total nudity. That's the way I like to be, and it just doesn't seem right if someone's present who is still wearing sneakers, or a tie or one sock."

"I like to be nude with you," I told her, "because then you can see the physical evidence of how much you excite me."

"Yes, I can see that I have a little fan as well as a bigger one," she laughed.

"Hey, not so much of the little!" I exclaimed.

"He'll do," she giggled. "You know what they say, anything more than a mouthful is a waste."

"And just let me know if there is anything I can do to help you out in other ways," I said. "I really appreciate how you do the gardening. I have some skills as a handyman."

"Really? Like what?" she wanted to know.

"I'm quite good with electrical things," I told her.

"My electric blanket has stopped working," she informed me.

"Well, it's usually not a good idea to try to fix them," I warned her. "It's better to replace it."

"Could you replace it?" she asked.

"You mean buy you a new one?" I queried.

"No. I mean take its place," she insisted. "I'm really cold in bed at night, but with another body in there with me, I think I could be toasty warm. And you're friendlier than an old electric blanket."

"We could give it a go," I agreed.

"I know I'm asking a lot," she said. "I like to sleep a good eight hours each night. So I'd be asking you to take quite a bit of time out of your evening just to help me keep warm."

"Oh, that's O.K.," I insisted. "I wasn't doing anything else."

"And there are a couple of things I should warn you about," she added. "I have a tendency to talk in my sleep. My ex-boyfriend said I said some quite improper things while I was sleeping. Let's put it this way - I'm not exactly safe for work."

"That's not a problem," I told her. "I rarely do any work while in bed."

"And my other problem is insomnia," she confessed.

"That's no good," I sympathised.

"But there is a solution," she reassured me. "I always sleep soundly after strenuous exercise."

"That makes sense," I replied.

"Its just that there is only one kind of strenuous activity I've found that I can do in bed," she warned me. "I mean its not that I don't know how to play chess, or charades, or tiddly winks. But they just aren't strenuous enough to really wear me out. Running would do it, but I can't do that in bed. So it always has to be the same thing. I suppose you can guess what that is."

"I've got a good idea," I admitted.

"You wouldn't mind helping me in that way?" she asked.

"It's only the neighbourly thing to do," I told her.

"You are so understanding," she replied, kissing the tip of my nose. "And I'm sure there will be things I can do for you. If you can think of anything, just let me know."

"Oh, I will," I assured her. "I will. I think we are going to be the best of neighbours."

The End