The Glory Seat : Fuck Me Friday

Fuck Me Friday is organised by Aisling Weaver. Here is how she explains it :

Twitterotica themes have been hanging around for some time, with various writers tackling weekly challenges such as #wankwednesday and so on, and writing challenges far and wide are abundant. This is another one.

The goal is two-fold; for writers, a weekly challenge to keep the, err, juices flowing. For readers, you'll find all the stories linked off at the bottom of each week's prompt. Are you game? Will you try your hand at some on the fly writing? Will you expose your work to new readers, will you read along and find new authors? I do hope so.

So, welcome to the linky love edition of Fuck Me Friday. All you have to do is this :

• Write a story with the prompt as your title. Today's will be : #Seat

• Tweet it with both the prompt and hashtag #FuckMeFriday

And lastly add it to the links at the bottom of this post. (Note, if you don't want to tweet it or don't have a blog, I invite you to post your story in the comments section. 

The Glory Seat

"Let's go to the Dickotheque!" suggested Stephanie excitedly.

"But I'm a hopeless dancer," complained Cynthia.

"Not the discotheque. The Dickotheque!" Stephanie insisted.

"What's that?" asked Cythia.

"It's a deliciously decadent club," explained Dorothy. "Where girls like us can be shamelessly slutty in a safe environment."

"I'm not slutty!" cried a shocked Cynthia.

"Oh, sure," Stephanie smiled. "I read that story you posted on your blog last week. What was it called? 'Gridiron Gangbang'?"

"But that was just a fantasy!" she pleaded in her defence. "I'd never actually do anything like that."

"Well, you don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to," Dorothy reassured her. "You can just come along and watch."

"Friday night is Glory Seat Night!" exclaimed Stephanie excitedly.

"Oooooooh! I love Glory Seat Night!" proclaimed Dorothy.

Cynthia looked confused.

"Don't worry," said Dorothy. "You'll find out when you get there."

*                    *                    *

"Why should the customer's have all the fun?" Gareth asked himself as he collected the entrance fee from another one of his male clients. Gareth was the proprietor of the Dickotheque and also its sister establishment Pussy-O-Rama. Dickotheque was a club for women where they could come and watch male strippers. Unlike other establishments there were no rules about what the women were allowed to do with the entertainers. And there were special theme nights like tonight. Pussy-O-Rama was a similar strip club for guys, though the guys were not allowed quite as much freedom to molest the strippers. The girls didn't like being manhandled as much as the guys liked being womanhandled.

But what made the establishments really unique were the ways in which the patrons of one club could interact with the patrons of the other anonymously via various forms of glory holes. Guys who got horny watching the strippers could stick their stiff cocks through holes in the wall into a room in the Dickotheque where they would be enthusiastically sucked off by female patrons driven into a cock frenzy by the well-endowed strippers they'd been watching. There were also boobyholes were the patrons of the Dickotheque could stick their bare boobs through similar holes so that the Pussy-O-Rama patrons could fondle them, pinch and suck their nipples or wank off and shoot their warm jizz all over them. And then, for the kinkier patrons there was the Spankotorium. This went both ways, as there were both women and men who liked to give a bare anonymous bottom a sound spanking.

But tonight was Glory Seat Night, which meant that Gareth would have to help the patrons who had paid for special tickets to squeeze their naked bodies into the tight compartments in the wall of the club, their legs spread into divergent tubes, and then latch the door behind their heads. Half a centimetre of plastic would then separate the torso and upper legs of the clients from the bottoms of the clients of the Dickotheque who would be sitting on the Glory Seats, the front of which came down between the male client's legs. In the middle of the seats was a hole. Through this hole the men would feed their cocks. What the women did with those cocks was their business.

There were fifteen Glory Seats and, tonight, only fourteen male clients. This was why Gareth had decided it was time to play the game himself. He stripped naked and squeezed into the tight compartment, pulling the door shut behind him. He then fed his flaccid cock through the hole in the middle of Glory Seat 6.

*                    *                    *

"Oh, my God!" cried Cynthia. "There are cocks coming up through the seats!"

"I know," gushed Dorothy, "isn't it delicious! Welcome to Glory Seat Night!"

"Ooooh, I've got a lovely big fat one!" enthused Stephanie. "And he's already half-stiff even before I've sat down and rubbed my cute little butt all over him." Then she bent down and gave the cock a big sloppy kiss on it's head, which caused it to become completely erect, waving its now lipstick coated bell-end up and down happily. "I'm afraid it's going to be a lumpy seat for me tonight," sighed Stephanie, raising her skirt and settling the bare flesh of her g-string seperated buttocks onto the throbbing anonymous prick.

Dorothy, ever the clown, bent down and grabbed hold of the penis popping its head through her chair and shook it back and forth, singing, ventriloquist-style, "I ain't got no body....."

*                    *                    *

Gareth, feeling ever so claustrophobic in his compartment beneath the girls, could hear every word they said.

"You said I could just watch," complained the voice of the girl directly above him. "But I can't stand up all evening."

"Just keep your pants on and sit on it," suggested another voice. "The worst you'll get is pecker tracks on your undies."

"Well, I suppose you're right," the girl agreed. "It is kind of a little one after all." And Gareth felt a pair of fingers gingerly pinch the end of his knob and stretch his flaccid cock out to the limits of its extendability before letting it snap back and hit the seat of the chair.

"Ouch!" he muttered.

"Well, I don't want pecker tracks on my skirt," she said. And the next thing Gareth knew he felt the soft warmth of a cotton covered bottom settling over his cock.

The knowledge that only a thin piece of cotton stood between his cock and the soft cheeks, juicy pussy and warm butthole of what he imagined anyway to be a very sexy young woman, caused his cock to stiffen.

"Ohhhhh!" cried Cythia. "He's getting hard."

*                    *                    *

"Time to get comfortable," decided Stephanie, standing up and slipping off her g-string. "Perhaps a bit of lubrication first though," she added, squatting down to give her cock a sloppy blow job. Then she stood up, holding up her skirt with one hand and the cock with the other as she slowly lowered her pussy down over it. "MMmmmmm, belly full of alcohol, pussy full of cock. Now the night is complete," she sighed.

Dorothy stood up and raised her skirt to show off her sky blue bikini-style panties. "See how wet my panties are!" she exclaimed. "The backside is wet with my naughty cock's precum and the front is wet from me!" With that she pulled her panties down and began shamelessly masturbating. "There is nothing like a big bad boner bruising my bottom to make me want to rub one out!" she cried, reaching a shivering orgasm in no time. And then she sat her sloppy happy pussy right down over the cock that was doing a totem pole impersonation in the middle of her chair.

"I am feeling kind of horny," admitted Cynthia. "And so is the owner of this cock," she added, squatting down beside her chair to look at it more closely as she sympathy wanked it with her warm little hand.

"Go ahead, pamper your pussy a little," encouraged Stephanie, who was now bouncing energetically up and down on her chair.

"It'll be our little secret," said Dorothy who was doing likewise.

"O.K." agreed Cynthia, dubiously, lifting her skirt and pulling down her white Cottontail knickers, which were in much the same state as Dorothy's had been.

*                    *                   *

"This is fantastic!" thought Gareth. "Why have I never tried this before?" His cock had been sat on my a deliciously pert female bottom, he'd had a lovely hand job from its owner, and now she was sliding her tight wet little pussy down over its length.

"Oh, God! I really am a dirty little slut!" cried the voice above him. "I didn't think I was, but I am. I'm fucking a hot hard cock and I don't even know who it belongs to."

The girl was bouncing up and down furiously now and her creamy cunt juice was running down the hole in the seat and dripping from his balls.

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. "I'm cu-u-u-u-m-m-m-m-ming!"

*                    *                    *

"That was fan-tas-tic!" breathed Cynthia, pulling herself up off of the stiff cock and onto her wobbly legs. No sooner had she done so than the cock twitched crazily and shot a fountain of creamy jism three feet into the air.

"Wow!" cried Dorothy and Stephanie simultaneously as they continued to ride their respective cocks.

*                    *                    *

"Fuck!" cried Gareth when he realised that the door to his compartment was jammed. He started to feel panicky. His claustrophobia returned.

But, luckily, he had his mobile with him. He rang the club technician.

"The easiest thing for me to do will be to cut through the seat to get you out," the technician explained. "The plastic isn't very thick."

*                   *                    *

"An emergency?" queried Stephanie.

The girls had all made a trip to the lady's room to clean up. On returning to their seats they discovered a man in overalls and noticed that, while the other two chairs were now missing their penises, Cynthia's still had the same jism-coated flaccid penis poking up through it.

"Don't worry. We'll find you seats elsewhere," the man assured them.

"What happened?" asked Cynthia. "He's not dead, is he?"

"He's alive and well," laughed the technician. "And I'll have him out of there in a jiffy."

The girls stood around and watched as the man cut through the plastic of the chair and pulled it away.

Then a slightly chubby naked man in is forties crawled out of the hole.

"This sort of thing is really not supposed to happen," he muttered, covering his cock with his hands.

"Hi, I'm Cynthia," giggled  that lady, now a good deal less reserved as a result of much alcohol consumption and a mind-blowing orgasm. She held out her hand, and Gareth shook it even though doing so compromised his efforts to keep his cock covered.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," replied Gareth.

"Oh, you have, you have," she smiled.

"So it was you?" he asked.

"It was not me, it was my pussy," she teased.

"Well, I'm sorry about how things turned out. The loss of anonymity and all that," he replied. "Perhaps I can take you out to dinner to make up for everything."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Cynthia replied, trying hard to keep a straight face. "I generally don't go out with strange men."

The End

Peeping Movie 1 : Just Looking (1995)

The other night I sat down to watch a movie. It wasn't this movie. It was another peeping related movie. But about 15 minutes into the movie it stopped. (Don't worry, I now have a copy that works, so I'll get to writing about that one soon. On the other hand, given that it was directed by Doris Wishman, the woman responsible for such notorious cinematic atrocities as Deadly Weapons and Nude on the Moon, maybe you should worry.)

So I started watching this movie instead. The only problem was that it was not the movie I thought it was. In 1999 Jason Alexander (George from Seinfeld) directed a movie called Just Looking which was about a fourteen year old boy who vows that, before the end of the summer, he will witness a man and a woman in the "act of love". The trailer looks great, it's set in the fifties, Gretchen Moll is in it and it has been praised for its nostalgic charm.

That's the movie I thought I was watching. So I was a bit taken aback when the first fifteen minutes were all about this nerdy guy in his thirties living in what, in the 1990s, passed for the present day. He was obsessed with watching the lady next door get undressed, but otherwise I couldn't see how this was going to turn into a story about a boy coming of age in the 50s. Surely, I thought, this is just a prelude and at some stage he will start reminiscing about when he was a boy back in the fifties. The fact that a 33 year old in the 90s would not have even been born yet in 1955 never occurred to me. I'm just not that good at maths.

It was about the 25 minute mark that I realised that this just couldn't be the Jason Alexander movie. So I looked on IMDB and discovered that the 90s produced two movies called Just Looking. The one I was watching was the earlier of the two. A chick flick of no particular reputation.

Ah, well. It was about peeping. It had some boobies. All was not lost.

This Just Looking is the work of one Tyler Bensinger. He wrote and directed it. He never directed anything else. But he did write (and sometimes co-produce) episodes of television series like Beverley Hill 90210, Cold Case and Parenthood. Which probably explains why this movie comes across like a tele-movie. Maybe it was a tele-movie, but IMBD doesn't list it that way.

Jim (James LeGros) is an architect married to Mary (Michelle Forbes). They have a young daughter. Everything is fine, except that Mary seems more interested in her work for a travel agency than in making love with Jim. When she praises the youthful looks of her best friend and coworker Sherrie (Ally Walker), Jim says the Mary herself has a great figure. She laughingly calls him a liar, and politely rebuffs his offer to take her mind off her study with a little hanky panky.

"If only it was taboo for a man to have sex with his wife I think we'd all do it more often out of the sheer perversion of it," he tells himself as he pours a glass of milk in the kitchen. He can't stop thinking about the girl who lives across the way. Earlier that day, while playing on the balcony with his daughter and his neighbour's kids, he'd seen her undressing through her bedroom window.

The next day Mary and Sherrie are studying in a cafe. Sherrie is reading Mary's notes because she spent the class reading a dirty book.

She tells Mary that she spent the previous night making love on her boyfriend Craig's boat.

"It's amazing," she gushes. "I mean you don't even have to move, you know what I mean. The waves just kind of rock you back and forth. I had one of those exploding orgasms. You know the kind that just rocks you down to your toes."

Mary tells her she might want to speak up as the people at the next table might not have heard her.

"I don't care who hears me," she says. "I'm in lust."

When Mary gets home in the evening Jim suggests they rent a movie. She says she wants a scary one, but Jim admits he was thinking of something more "exotic". "Don't you think of anything else?" she chides him.

Later that evening he sees the couple across the way making mad passionate love.

He is holding his daughter's rag doll Tiffany in his hands, and his excitement is such that, without realising it, he tears it apart.

Aroused by what he has just watched, Jim crawls into bed with his wife. He tries to wake her, but she just rolls over and goes back to sleep.

In his imagination the woman he has been watching through the window turns over, looks him in the eye and calls his name.

When a colleague leaves, Jim has a chance at promotion. He tells Mary, but they are interrupted by their daughter complaining that her doll Tiffany is missing. Jim insists that he will buy her a new one. Mary thinks it is time she learned to look after her toys, but Jim says it might not have been her fault. Perhaps a squirrel stole it. 

Jim has brought home a spicy movie to watch with Mary, but she finds it laughable.

He then hands her a present.

It's sexy lingerie.

"Oh, the things I do for you," she says. Clearly she feels it is more of a present for himself than for her.

When he tries to bite through her suspender, he gets his teeth stuck.

Much to her amusement.

Jim goes back to peeking at the girl across the way through toy binoculars.

One evening he is caught by his neighbour Chuck (Kurt Fuller), who thinks he is playing at soldiers. "We're all fuckin' crazy as hell, you know that," he says, and tells the story of his brother who used to blow up cats by sticking explosives up their bums.

Jim's boss Darlene Carpenter (Marg Helgenberger) interviews him for the new job. But he can't put out of his mind his work colleague's advice to not look at her tits.

He looks.

And Darlene says she doesn't think he is ruthless enough for the position.

Meanwhile Sherrie persuades Mary to consider a new look.

When Jim gets home Mary tries to console him about not getting the job. But he is trying hard to pretend he likes her new short haircut.

Sherrie tells Mary she doesn't want to live without passion in her life. Mary says that just because she doesn't break out into a sweat when she sees Jim it doesn't mean their marriage has no passion.

Mary finally meets Sherrie's hot boyfriend Craig (Steve Weber).

When Mary gets home she decides to put some passion into her marriage. But unfortunately Jim has just been having a wank.

So even though she uses the ice cube trick from Sherrie's dirty book, Jim experiences "technical difficulties."

Jim has more bad luck when his wife's friend Alicia (Mary Mara) walks into the video store just as he is about to rent a porno video. He hides it behind his back, but...

...the manager loudly praises his choice of film. "Good choice," he says. "Very popular. Some Like it Hot and Juicy!" Alicia smiles as she goes out the door.

This leads to a heated argument between Jim and Mary.

Jim says that the only reason he rented a porn film was because he was feeling horny and didn't want to be rejected by Mary. She accuses him of acting like a child.

"Well, I guess I'm just not ready for middle age yet," he replies.

"Did you just call me middle aged?" she asks. "Because, if recall correctly I'm not the one who experienced technical difficulties last night."

That night Jim walks in on Mary watching the porno. She asks him if he wants her to be like the porn stars. He tells her he doesn't.

"If that's what you want I'd do it," she says bitterly. "I'd probably have to get a boob job though, and some lyposuction. Definitely a brain reduction."

"If you want one of those girls so badly, why don't you go out and find yourself one?" she asks.

"Maybe I will," he says sadly.

"Well, maybe I will too," she replies.

Mary goes to Craig's place with Sherrie.

Craig nudes up and goes in for a swim. Sherrie points out the tattoo over his butt to an embarrassed Mary.

Mary is even more shocked when Sherrie tells her than she told Craig that she and Mary had "fooled around" with each other.

She says it turned him on so much it was "almost scary." She also decides to go skinny-dipping.

Meanwhile, Jim is back watching the couple across the way make love.

Mary strips to her underwear and goes in for a swim with Sherrie and Craig. But she gets uncomfortable when Craig puts his arm around her.

Things are getting hot and heavy in the apartment Jim's spying on. He decides to use his daughter's monitor toy to listen in on what the couple are saying.

It works for a while, though he discovers the pair are foreigners who don't speak English. But when a squirrel knocks it off the ledge into the couple's apartment, he has to try to retrieve it.

Mary returns unexpectedly with Craig, who starts trying to kiss her. Jim runs over from his position at the window and yells, "Stop kissing my wife." He asks Mary why she was kissing another man.

She explains that she wasn't kissing him. He was kissing her. Then she asks him why he was hanging around that window.

And then she sees why.

And Jim sees what she sees.

And the sexy neighbour sees that she's been seen.

Sherrie is kind of pissed off, because Craig told her that Mary came on to him. She doesn't believe it though. She knows he is no good.

But for Mary and Jim things work out.

"I think sex is terribly overrated," says Mary. "It just kind of gets in the way."

"I personally can take it or leave it," admits Jim.

"I mean who could expect to have good sex after ten years anyway," she adds.

Then she give him that look.

And drags him into the bath with her.

The film is nothing terribly special, but it did make me laugh a few times and the women were sexy. And James LeGros is a talented comic actor. He reminded me of a young Robert Morse.

It's ultimately a very conservative film. Marriage is held up as the ideal. Poor Sherrie is looking for ground-shaking orgasms rather than wedlock, and so she is bound for heartbreak. Our married couple may be tempted to stray, but they never really do. But this is pretty much the standard formula for marital melodramas, which, in spite of all the comedy, is what this is.

If I were going to write a story along these lines I'd have Mary catch Jim perving at the neighbours, grab the binoculars away from him to have a look herself and find herself mesmerised by the guy's naked bod. And so Jim and Mary would be reunited by a shared love of voyeurism, fucking and wanking each other happily while perpetually peeping. But that sort of thing doesn't happen in Hollywood.

Another Great Voyeurism Story

Surf on the Beach by Cherry Sweets

Since I did my main posting on peepers I discovered this wonderful story about a bird watcher who gets more than he bargained for when he spys a woman sunbathing topless.

Tilt : A Weird Science Tale for Wank Wednesday

It's Wank Wednesday again as hosted by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. Here is how she explains it :

Welcome to week eight of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut. 

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.

To join in all you need to do is write a story with the weekly prompt as a title. This week’s prompt is #Bolt. Then:

• Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.

• Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag

• Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post

• WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

Please link back to this page in your post and please also do take the time to read and comment on the other contributors, we’ll all keep on writing but it is so much nicer to do so with feedback.

Thank you for writing and reading.

Tilt : A Weird Science Tale for Wank Wednesday

"If this ain't Nowheresville you can sure see it from here," growled Billy "The Kid" Kincaid as he pulled up to the only truckstop in Monkey Spank, New Mexico, his fire-engine red hotrod spewing steam from its radiator.

"Well, I need to powder my nose, Billy," whined Enola Gay Makepiece as she cleaned under her fingernails with her switchblade. "You wouldn't want me to powder my nose all over your fancy leather upholstery now would you?"

The time was 3.55 P.M. The date - Wednesday the 10th of June 1959. Unbeknownst to Billy and Enola, all hell was about to break lose.

Three years, six months and five days earlier, on the cave-riddled desert landscape three miles to the north a medium-sized nuclear device had been detonated for research purposes. Today Professor Roentgen had begun his research project to investigate the impact of radiation on the local animal and plant life. He was being assisted by two of his best pupils, Tommy Trumpet and his girlfriend Cherry Wilde.

"Just listen to that!" exclaimed Tommy as he ran the geiger counter over the surface of a boulder. It ticked like crazy. "We must be right at the epicentre of the explosion."

"I'm scared, Tommy," replied Cherry. "It might not be healthy to be this close to radiation."

"Don't be silly," Tommy chided her. "The government did this. They wouldn't do anything that might harm us."

"If you say so," she responded. "But I think we should go and see how the Professor is getting on in the cave."

Just at that moment, Tommy looked over her shoulder towards the cave entrance.

"Jumpin' Jimminy!" he cried.

Cherry knew it was serious as she had never heard Tommy use such strong language before. When she turned towards the cave entrance what she saw there made her eyes pop and almost caused her to soil her baby pink Cottontails. It was a prairie dog. But it was no ordinary prairie dog. It differed from ordinary prairie dogs in two key ways. 1. It was the size of a bus. 2. It had the mangled corpse of Dr. Roentgen dangling from between its teeth.

"Prairie dogs are usually not carnivorous," panted Tommy as they ran for their lives across the desert. "Oh, sure they sometimes eat insects."

"But not biology teachers?" asked Cherry.

"Never biology teachers," replied Tommy. "Until now."

"Why is it so big?" Cherry wanted to know.

"The radiation," Tommy responded. "Clearly Dr. Roentgen was right. It has effected the local wildlife."

"I thought you said it wouldn't be harmful," complained Cherry.

"Well, growing big isn't necessarily a bad thing," Tommy pointed out. "The only problem would be finding enough food."

"Which would explain why it is following us," deducted Cherry.

"Precisely," agreed Tommy. "Thank goodness its muscle development has not yet caught up with the demands of gravity on an animal of its size. It can only waddle, so we have a chance of outrunning it, as long as we can find somewhere to take shelter."

Just at that point they crested a hill and caught site of the Monkey Spank Truck Stop and Burger Bar.

When they burst breathlessly through the door, Billy was hunched over the pinball machine, his fingers a blur over the buttons as he kept the siver ball bouncing around the table. Enola was leaning up against the wall watching him and sucking on a Coke.

"You look like the devil's after you," said old Frank Gaines, the proprietor as he flipped a burger.

"Not the devil," panted Tommy. "A prairie dog!"

"I've heard of guy's bein' yella," Enola sneered, "but you take the cake. A prairie dog!"

Tommy looked over at Enola, taking in her short black hair, her red leather jacket and her skin-tight black jeans.

"This isn't a normal prairie dog," Tommy pointed out. "It's the size of a bus and it ate the professor."

"I think this boy's been hitting the peyote," suggested Billy, leaving the pinball table and striding over to examine the two new comers. The bright desert sun shining through the truckstop window lit up his shocking white duck tail. He unzipped his black leather jacket and stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his blue Levis. "What's your name, honey?" he asked Cherry. He was standing a little too close.

"Ch-ch-ch-cherry," she responded.

"And very sweet you are too," Billy told her.

Just at that moment, there was a massive crash which caused the whole building to shake. They looked around and there was a giant eye staring in the window.

"See, I told you," pointed out Billy. "Big as a bus."

"The End of Days!" cried Frank forlornly, half an hour later. "That's what it is. All predicted in the Bible it was!"

"I remember locusts... I remember frogs..." huffed Enola. "I don't remember anything about a plague of giant prairie dogs."

"Nevertheless," wailed Frank, pointing a prophetic finger. "We have brought it upon ourselves by our sinful ways. We have interfered with the natural order of things..."

"I'll interfere with the natural order of your innards, if you don't leave off," warned Enola, pulling out her switchblade.

It was just at this moment that a loud "Zap!" sounded outside, coinciding with a flash like green lightning. The prairie dog was gone, in its place a smouldering skeleton.

Then the door opened and in walked two brains. They weren't just brains. They did have small skinny bodies propelling them around the place. But they were mostly brains. Big, throbbing, green and yellow brains with a pair of bloodshot eyeballs staring out from underneath them.

"Your race is nearly run, earthlings!" one of them cried in a voice like an electric pencil sharpener.

"The end! The end!" cried Frank, banging his head against the lunch counter, perhaps feeling that mortification of the flesh was called for.

"Your technology has advanced more quickly than your capacity for making wise choices in how you use it," explained the alien being. "So, for the greater good of the galaxy, we have come here to eliminate your species."

"Can't you give us another chance?" pleaded Tommy. "It is true that some of the older generation try to settle their differences with nuclear weapons. But there is no need to eliminate all of us. Some of us are able to find peaceful ways of settling our disputes."

"Yes, that's right!" agreed Enola, quickly hiding her switchblade.

"And we can work together for the common good, too," added Cherry, playing nervously with her blonde ponytail.

"Get rid of the old fogies," suggested Billy looking pointedly at Frank. "But let the rest of us have a chance to prove ourselves."

"We have noticed that you are skilled at that game in the corner there," replied Brain No. 1.

"Enola and I are great at pinball," agreed Billy. "What about you two?"

"Cherry is better than I am," Tommy admitted. "But we can both play."

"The test must be to reach a common goal," the brain explained. "Let us say that you must score, between you, 200,000 points within two hours."

"That's a lot!" replied Billy. "But we'll give it a go."

"But you must also demonstrate your willingness for self sacrifice," the brain added. "It has come to our notice in studying your species that it causes you much distress when your modesty insurance devices are publicly removed."

"Our what?" asked Enola.

"Your clothes," replied the brain. "And we have found that it causes even more distress when the modesty... the clothes of your prospective reproductive vehicle are removed in front of others who might find the prospect of reproducing with them not undesirable."

"Am I your 'prospective reproductive vehicle'?" asked Cherry of Tommy, looking confused.

"I would hope so," he replied.

"Strip pinball?" enquired Enola. "I'm up for it."

"I don't know," admitted Tommy nervously. "Cherry you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"The fate of the human race is at stake," Cherry replied bravely. "This is no time to be worried about our own personal modesty."

"I have a feeling you have nothing to be modest about," leered Billy, before Enola elbowed him hard in the belly.

"The rules," the brain explained, "are that anyone who fails to reach 2,000 points on their turn must remove an article of clothing of their choice."

The four took a moment to exchange names and shake hands.

"Are you sure you have the balls for this?" asked Billy of Tommy.

"Are the balls not in the machine?" the brain queried, looking confused.

"I'll do what's necessary to save the world," Tommy replied with a square jaw.

Enola was the first to play, striding confidently up to the machine, pulling out the plunger and letting to go. The ball shot into action and Enola began flipping. But her confidence was greater than her playing ability. She scored 1,800 and removed one of her boots.

Cherry was up next. Tommy was confident. He knew she was good. And, sure enough, she made 4,750. She span around in celebration, her dress rising so that her knees were revealed. "Go me!" she cried.

Now it was Tommy's turn. It was a while since he'd played and he was a bit rusty. He only made 950. It was with a profound sense of shame that he removed one of his shoes.

Billy scored 3,960. "Not bad," he said, "but I've got more than that in me. This is just the beginning."

Billy and Cherry were the champions. Half an hour later, Billy had only lost his shoes and socks. Cherry had lost both shoes and one sock.

Tommy on the other hand, was not doing well. He was down to his boxer shorts.

Enola was down to her shirt, bra and panties and was enjoying the opportunity to show off her long luscious legs. Tommy was trying not to look.

"No need to be modest, Tommy Boy," she teased. "I know you want to peek at a bad girl's panties. You can bet that, when your next turn leaves you a nudist, I'm not going to be averting my eyes."

"Don't tease the poor guy," laughed Billy. "We can all see that you've given little Tommy Trumpet the horn."

"Don't let them get to you," Cherry said, putting her arm around his shoulders.

But, predictably, on his next turn Billy lost his shorts. Enola grinned, Billy laughed, and Cherry blushed as he slowly slid them down and stood naked before the others. The combination of Enola's teasing and the fact that Cherry was seeing him naked for the first time made it an erotic as well as humiliating experience, and so his cock was semi-erect.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of there, Tommy Boy," Enola reassured him, squatting down to get a close look.

"Don't you go blowing that Trumpet!" Billy warned. "Your lips are mine."

"My lips are free agents, Billy," she teased. "Now you get back to the table. We've only got another hour and fifteen minutes to get 150,000 points."

But Billy's concentration was off now. He only made 1,750. He unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor.

Then Cherry failed to reach the target and removed her other sock.

When Enola also fell short, Billy sighed and said, "Oh, well, there goes your shirt."

"Not necessarily," replied Enola. "'An article of clothing of their choice.' Remember? I think I'll express my solidarity with Tommy No Trousers and take off my panties."

"You don't have to do that!" cried Billy.

"No. I don't. But I want to," she replied. "Maybe the sight of my bare bum and pretty pussy will inspired Tommy to pull really hard on his plunger."

Her eyes smouldered as she met Tommy's glance. Then she slowly slid her thumbs into the sides of her panties and pulled them down revealing a tangle of thick black pubic hair.

Tommy's cock swelled and stiffened until it was curving up at an angle. Enola moved across the floor with cat-like grace and hung her panties over his erection. They were damp.

"I thought I was the one you want to have babies with," whimpered Cherry, a tear rolling down from her eye.

"I do," replied Tommy. "I love you. This is just a matter of biology. The male animal responds to all mating opportunities on a purely physical level. It means nothing about who we love."

"He is right on this point," agreed the brain. "We have observed these things."

"I've observed rather too many of those things," grumbled his companion, who up until this point had been silent.

Cherry tried to be reassured. But worry put her off on her next turn.

"I'll follow Enola's example and take off my panties," she decided. My dress is a reasonable length, so I won't be baring any more skin that way." She did, however, have to expose a good deal of leg actually getting her panties down. Something that inspired a wolf whistle from Billy. Tommy noticed, as she lay her panties down on a chair, that they had a large damp patch on the gusset.

Tommy had nothing more to lose. That cleared his head. What gave him a problem is that he kept hitting the machine painfully with the head of his stiff cock. So he only made 800 points.

"We can't afford any more poor performances like that," Enola told Tommy while Billy was playing. "Much as I love looking at this thing," she added, grabbing hold of Tommy's cock. "You're going to have to get off so we can get on with the game. There's no need to be shy now. Just beat off. Or I'll suck you off if you want. Billy will be livid, but saving the world is what counts."

"He's my boyfriend," replied Cherry, pushing her away. "If anyone is going to put his penis in their mouth it's going to be me!"

"But, Cherry," responded Tommy, "you're a virgin."

"Only because of the old fogies," she said.

"What?" asked Tommy.

"It's like Billy said," she explained. "We know how things should be, but the old fogies make the rules. Whether it is nuclear war or sex, it's all the same. It's their rules. Well, not anymore. You know what I do every night while I'm thinking about you Tommy? I do this." She lifted up her dress, parted her legs and began fingering her wet, pink, golden-haired pussy.

"You do?" asked the astounded Tommy.

"Of course she does," replied Enola. "And, right now, I think I'll join her. We all need to get off if we are going to clear our heads and give this game our all." With that she too spread her legs, stuck her fingers into her pussy to gather up some juices and then began moving them around wetly over her erect clit.

"I'll lick your penis for you  until it goes down," Cherry suggested matter-of-factly. With that she sank to her knees and slid her soft wet lips and tongue down over his length.

"It's your turn, Enola," announced Billy, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he turned to take in the astounding activities that were going on behind him. "Oh, what the hell!" he cried and pulled down his boxers, too, freeing his own erection.

"Damn," muttered Enola, "just when I was about to cum."

"You play the machine," ordered Billy. "And I'll make sure you cum."

Enola shook her bare ass at him as she walked up to the machine. As she pulled the plunger, Billy moved up behind her. She bent forward to begin play and he slid his stiff cock deep into her juicy cunt and began pounding her from behind while she played. She played like she'd never played before. Sexual energy flowing through her and sharpening her every reflex. She'd scored 6,570 by the time Billy arched his back and filled her with his hot seed.

"Damn, look at the time!" cried Billy. "Only ten more minutes to go and another 10,350 points to win."

Cherry let Tommy's cock plop out of her mouth. She stood up and ripped her dress from her body, followed by her bra. She was now stark naked.

"I can't do this alone," she cried, grabbing Tommy by the cock and pulling him towards the pinball machine.

Somehow, in this one remote truck stop in New Mexico, all of the sexual repression characteristic of the 1950s had ended for these four characters in an erotic explosion of thermonuclear dimensions. And they were determined to use this force that they had unwittingly unleashed for good and not for evil. To save the world from extermination by the aliens.

Cherry had a deliciously pale and juicy ass which jiggled in the cutest possible way as she moved into place in front of the pinball machine.

"Spank me while I play," she breathed. "Spank me and then fuck me."

"O.K.," replied Tommy. "Whatever will help you."

As she pulled out the plunger, Tommy brought his palm down hard on her right butt cheek with a loud crack. Simultaneously she loosed the plunger and the ball shot into play. Again and again Tommy slapped her bum, turning it a bright pink. And as he did she kept the ball in play, lights flashing, spinners spinning, bells going off... The score piled up - 2 thousand, 3 thousand, 4 thousand. On and on she went, her fingers moving with almost supernatural accuracy, as her bum grew warmer and a creamy juice began to dribble down the inside of her leg.

"Fuck me!" she cried. "Fuck me now!"

"The End Days! The End Days!" cried Frank, his hand moving up and down suspiciously inside his pants.

"Most remarkable!" declared Brain No. 1.

"Most repulsive!" remarked Brain No. 2.

Enola and Billy didn't say anything. They were too busy wanking each other off as they watched.

Tommy spread his girlfriend's legs, pressed his belly up against her sore bum and slid his cock, slippery with her saliva as well as his pre-cum, deep into her twitching pussy.

The score continued to rise as the ball shot around the table. And all the while Tommy continued to slap his belly against Cherry's ass and piston his cock back and forth within her embracing wetness.

It was going to be close. They had another 2,000 points to get and there was only 30 seconds left. As the countdown continued Tommy began thrusting harder and harder, slamming Cherry's belly up against the cold hard machine. Thrust! Thrust! Thump! Thump! They were almost there... and then...

"TILT!" screamed the light on the top of the machine. And it was all over. They had failed.

"Let's go out and set the Obliterator Device," said Brain 1.

"Not before time," replied Brain 2.

They opened the door and walked out of the truck stop straight into the mouth of a giant prairie dog that had come to find out what happened to his mate.

"Well, it looks like the human race has a reprieve," said Enola, giving Billy a cuddle.

"Yes," replied Cherry. "But for how long?"

THE END (....OR IS IT?)