A Book, By Its Cover

What does a guy look like, the kind of guy who would cheat on his wife, sight unseen, with some stranger from off the internet? I can tell you they’re all over the spectrum, but this one was a bit of a knuckle-dragger.

I’d scheduled three appointments for the day, which was kind of a lot; but not, I thought, excessive. This one was early.

I was in the shower, of course, when he knocked on the studio door. We are four stories up, and the bell is broken. I got out, wrapped a towel around myself, showing off plenty of cleavage, and answered the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the grimy hardwood floor. My hair was wet and straggly, and I wasn’t wearing any make-up, but I didn’t care. My breasts are, I think, my best feature anyway. And that isn’t really saying all that much.

Like I said, our boy “Roger” (and I am willing to bet that wasn’t his real name) was a gorilla, a real meat-head. He was my height (and I’m a big girl), but he probably outweighed me by fifty or sixty pounds. He’d been an athlete in high school, football I’m sure, and he’d let himself slide. He had pink, shiny skin, and a receding hairline. He wore cut-off shorts, Teva sandals, and a white t-shirt that should have been a size larger. There was a diamond stud in his left ear, and a circular indentation around his ring finger where a wedding band belonged.  I let him inside, and he shut the door smugly behind him. How do you shut a door smugly? I don’t know, but Roger managed it.

“So,” I said, “What’s your bag?” When he looked blank, I added “What do you want to do to her?”

He grinned. “I wanna rape the shit out of her. I want to throw her down on the floor and rip her panties off, and I wanna fuck her cunt. Then I want to shove it up her ass. Then I want to cram it right down her throat. And then I want to come all over her face and wipe it around with my dick.”

“Ok.” I stifled a yawn.

He seemed a little taken aback that I’d agree so readily, but the play-rape thing is so common with these guys that it’s less appalling and more just boring. “What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

“You know the rules.” I said. I was dripping shower water, forming a little puddle on my studio floor. “You don’t do any permanent damage, and you wear a condom.” I’d had to pry one of these dudes off Tiffany by spraying him with a fire extinguisher and threatening him with a cell phone. I have a Taser too, in case things really go south.

He nodded eagerly.

“And you have to pose for two pictures: a before and after shot.”

“No way,” he said immediately, “No pictures.”

He obviously hadn’t bothered to read my email. Jerkoff. I sighed. “It won’t show your face, Jackass.” I gestured over to the unpainted sheetrock wall, which was covered with paired photos of penises, erect and flaccid, side by side. I’m working on a coffee table book, and I let my little sister Tiff live with me rent-free in exchange for helping me out with the material.

“I’m going to go get dressed. She should be here any minute. Go crazy. Do you need a rubber, or did you bring your own?” He leered and pulled a chain of four or five condoms out of his back pocket. In case he fumbled the first three times, I supposed. I was betting he didn’t make it through the first item on his little agenda without shooting off. I stepped back into the bathroom and got dressed and started putting on my makeup. My lipstick of choice is French Whore Red; I should buy the stuff by the case.

I heard the front door open and shut; I heard her scream; and then I heard the thunk of her body hitting the floor. That was my cue: I grabbed my camera and stepped out into the big open room of the studio.

Tiff was wearing her red plaid little-catholic-schoolgirl skirt, complete with fishnets and a stuffy white blouse that was just begging to be ripped open. He obliged me, scattering buttons everywhere, and yanked her bra down around her middle, setting her perky little tits free, the pink, puffy little nipples pointed up at my studio lights.

Tiffany can blame her name on our parents. At school, she calls herself ‘Jezebel’. I’ve asked her why she doesn’t just legally change her name, and she just gives me the finger. She’s working on her doctorate, but she looks all of about fourteen. We’re both tall, but unlike me, she’s a skinny little waif, the kind you could break in half like a stick of kindling.

With a knee placed squarely on the center of her chest, he lifted up her skirt, and with a sneer, tore off her plain and boring white panties, exposing her brown furry muff. Tiffany, unlike a lot of girls of our generation (myself included) doesn’t believe in waxing or shaving. Her pussy was already pouting wet. She gets off on this kind of shit.

He slapped her open-handed across the cunt, and then punched her in the gut for good measure. I heard her ‘whoof’ as the wind was knocked out of her. Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and rolled her over onto her stomach, encouraging her with a kick or two from his sandaled feet.

He placed one foot right on the back of her neck, and favored me with a big fat grin. She was weeping piteously and protesting incoherently, and he was absolutely eating it up.

As she whimpered at his feet, he pulled down his cut-off shorts. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Classy. His dick was straining eagerly up and out.

“Hold it right there!” I swooped in with my camera. The shutter clicked, I got my shots, and I got out. “Carry on.” I said.

I have this theory that every guy’s dick is like a miniature version of himself, in the same way that dog owners tend to look like their dogs. ‘Roger’ was no exception. He had an ok dick, I guess. It was about average length, but definitely on the thick side. He was circumcised, and the head was shiny and pink, disproportionally small compared to the shaft. It reminded me of the nose cone of an ICBM, and the pee hole was red and irritated-looking. He had a neatly trimmed triangle of pubes, but his balls, which hung down like ripe fruit on a vine, were completely shaved, which made for an oddly disturbing look.

He carefully rolled the condom on, which would have been the ideal time for Tiffany to kick him in the nuts, if that had been her inclination. Then he got down on one knee, muscled her legs apart, put a big meaty hand around her throat, and jammed his cock straight up her cunt.

She wailed, a long, high-pitched scream of terror and pain, saccharine-fake, and kicked her legs wildly, struggling underneath him. My money was that he would come just from that.

Our boy Roger proved me wrong. After two or three brutal strokes, he pulled his cock out of her cunt, all wet and glistening; spread her little butt cheeks, and with a series of low grunts like he was power-lifting, he proceeded to cram his dick right up her anus. Tiff howled again, and this time maybe it wasn’t quite so fake.

He was fucking her asshole like a bulldozer, one tit clutched in each hand and gnawing on the back of her neck. Suddenly he yowled, “Ah, you fucking bitch!” That was it for Roger. So much for fucking her throat and wiping his come all over her face. He bucked and squirted into the condom. Tiff milked him for all he was worth.

They’re contrite afterward, always. ‘Roger’ was no exception. He tenderly pulled out and removed the condom, and I got my ‘after’ shot of his dick all limp and sperm-slimy. Then he got dressed, apologizing profusely to Tiffany, who was curled up on the floor whimpering with one hand clutched between her legs. He’d never know that she was masturbating. He got dressed, said he was ‘so sorry’ one more time to Tiff, who never acknowledged him, and then he left.

Tiff had a nasty split lip, and a bunch of fresh finger-shaped bruises on her neck. She loves that shit, later on she’ll highlight the bruises with purple makeup, accentuate the cuts and scrapes with scarlet eyeliner, and make up elaborate lies about where she got them, just to fuck with people. For now we had another appointment coming right up, so she took a quick shower and changed into her prom dress outfit.

What does a guy look like, the type who would cheat on his girlfriend with some stranger from off the internet? Alex knocked on the studio door while Tiffany was still pinning on her corsage.

Alex threw me for a bit of a loop. She wore grey gas station attendant coveralls, with a white jog bra underneath, and Birkenstocks. She had hairy toes, and one lock of her unruly brown hair kept falling down her forehead in front of her eyes, which she would then impatiently brush back into place.

She stepped confidently into the studio, and shut the door behind her. She was stocky, shorter than either me or Tiff, and she had wide hips, and two circle-cross Venus symbols intertwined, tattooed on her neck.

“So what are you after?” I asked.

“You know,” She smiled knowingly and winked. It was kind of obnoxious. “What everyone wants. The usual.”

“So spell it out for me,” I said. To the best of my knowledge, Tiffany had never been with another girl. I didn’t know if she was interested, but that was sort of beside the point.

Alex sighed. “Ok. I want to sit on her face and have her lick my kiki while I play with her pussy, but I won’t let her come. At least not until after I get off. Ok?”

“Ok,” I said, “You know the rules?”

“Sure,” Alex said, “Before and after shots. Just don’t show my face, my girlfriend would kill me.”

She shrugged off her coveralls right then and there. She was commando underneath, what was this, a theme for the day? I took a close-up shot of her twat. She was one of those girls who waxed everything. Her pink and crinkled inner labia peeked eagerly out from in between smugly pouting soft and puffy outer lips. She was already glistening with excitement.

Tiffany lay down on her back on the floor, and Alex straddled her face. She lifted Tiff’s dress up and pulled her lacy red panties aside, wetting a finger and brushing it lightly up and down Tiff’s furry cunt. Tiff started to make a noise that was quickly muffled by Alex’s pussy covering her mouth.

Alex rode her like a cowgirl in the saddle, mashing her pussy all over my kid sister’s face; sometimes lifting up so that Tiff had to crane her neck and stick out her tongue to reach Alex’s juicy bald pussy; sometimes shifting forward so that Tiff could lick her asshole. All the while, she was playing with Tiff’s pussy; tracing her fingertips up and down Tiffany’s twat, occasionally bending over and giving her frustrated puss a quick lick or two, which made her squirm and kick. The lips of Tiffany’s pussy were swollen, pouting out and drooling; she must be dying of frustration. She likes it rough, and all that teasing had to be absolute torture for her.

When Alex came, she let loose, bearing down and almost violently grinding herself against Tiff’s tongue, reaching behind and yanking on her hair for emphasis, while she howled like an opera singer belting out an aria. When she was done, she climbed off Tiff, who was practically writhing with frustrated lust, and let me get my ‘after’ shot of her sticky, satisfied pussy. Then she got dressed and left us.

Now I bet Tiff was glad I’d made three appointments for us that day. The next one was due any moment; she barely had time to change into her Raggedy Ann costume before he was knocking at the door.

What does a guy look like, the kind of guy who will cheat on his wife, sight unseen, with some stranger from off the internet? Andrew looked shockingly normal; innocuously cute. He had a high forehead and hairy arms, he was slim and well-muscled, he wore jeans and a button-down shirt and a wedding ring, and he smelled faintly of marijuana. He looked slightly shy or befuddled, so I asked him in.

“So what’s your bag?” I asked.

He stepped bravely up to the plate. “I want to lick your pussy” he told me, “I want to lick it until you come all over my face.”

“O-k…” I said, “Only my pussy isn’t the pussy in question here. Then what?”

“I want to lick your pussy,” he repeated, “Until you’re satisfied, and then I’d like you to jerk me off. With a finger up my butt.”

Well, he certainly knew what he wanted. “My sister provides all the action here,” I said, “I just take the pictures.”

“But I came here to see you.” He was twitching a little bit, like he might just cut and run; but he stood his ground. And there was a nice-looking lump in the front of his jeans. He was cute. I figured what the hell.

“You know the rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I read the email.”

He dropped trou, and I snapped a couple shots of his cock. He had a really nice dick: big without being scary big; nice and straight and thick, with a purple bulbous head that was modestly hidden behind foreskin, and peeked eagerly out at me. His pubes were neatly trimmed, his balls fat and compact. I wondered if his wife knew what she was missing.

Feeling inordinately self-conscious, I stripped out of my own tight jeans and stretchy black top. Feeling his eyes, and Tiffany’s eyes on my naked body, I arranged myself on the little studio futon. Sure as shootin’, our guy Andrew hustled down between my legs, like a puppy after a chew toy. Rarely have I been so glad to have been freshly showered.

When was the last time I got my kitty licked? I mean really licked, not just a polite slurp or two, a perfunctory excuse for some dude to get his dick wet? It had been, my friends, a really long time. And Andrew, whatever else he may have been, was shockingly good at it.

He started off slowly, warming me up, teasing me, getting me into it. By the time the tip of his tongue made contact with my clit, I was sopping wet, and my legs were splayed shamelessly wide. He lapped eagerly away at me, sliding the flat of his tongue up and down my cunt, flicking at my asshole, drawing meticulous circles around my aching clit, sliding two fingers up my juicy pussy, pulling them out and licking them off, and starting all over again. He found my groove, and ran with it. I came all over his face, not once, not twice, but at least three times. By the time he finally came up for air, grinning like a madman, his fat cock bouncing and rigid, I was glowing and exhausted. I don’t know when I’ve come that hard, ever.

He sat on my lap. He had kind of a bony little butt, but I didn’t mind. I wrapped one hand around his dick and started jerking him off, whispering sweet nothings in his ear about how good it had felt when he had eaten my pussy. I felt his cock swell and strain in my hand. I whispered that he was a sexy little pervert, and I wet one finger and slid it up his asshole.

He was tight. His body stiffened, and his anus clenched down on my invading digit, but his dick got even harder. As his asshole relaxed, I started finger-banging him from behind, in time with the hand jerking off his cock. He was going wild, moaning aloud, rocking back and forth on my lap. I was determined to draw this out as long as possible and then some. I removed my finger and released his dick, and he whined. I ran my fingers up and down my still-drooling cunt, and then slipped two slick fingers back up his naughty little hole and he gasped. I resumed the handjob, with just my thumb and forefinger barely petting his quivering cock.

Of course Tiffany had to get in on the action. She got down on her knees and started lapping at the bright red head of his dick, now boldly exposed, free of his foreskin. It took about three licks, and he went off like fireworks. His dick pulsed under my fingers and his asshole spasmed and squeezed, and squirted about a bucked of semen straight into Tiffany’s pretty little mouth. Together, we milked out every last drop.

Tiff shot a couple ‘after’ pics of his soft, worn-out cock, which still looked mighty nice, and then he got dressed and took his leave.

Together, we printed the pictures we’d taken. Alex’s pussy made a nice contrast to all the dicks. The differences ‘between’ before and ‘after’ were subtle and sexy; she clearly belonged right at the center of the book. We worked on the order of the rest, arranging and re-arranging all the cocks, hard and soft, into a rough proof. The book wasn’t complete. I still needed more material.

Tiffany was fidgety and antsy; she still hadn’t gotten her rocks off. She’s a tough nut to crack, but her sexual frustration wasn’t my problem, and even if I chose to make it my problem, she was out of time. She was supposed to be giving a lecture on Woolf to a roomful of uninterested undergrads in a little less than twenty-five minutes. Resentfully, she took of her Raggedy Ann outfit and changed into a more professorial outfit, before heading out the door. The bruises on her neck were turning purple and livid; her split lip was swollen and crusty with blood. She knew, and I knew, but her students wouldn’t know that she wasn’t wearing any panties under that charcoal-grey wool skirt. Maybe she’d find some nice young English major to help scratch her itch.

I shrugged, and started to get dressed myself. I thought about masturbating, then thought better of it; my parts had received more attention than they’d gotten in a coon’s age, and were feeling more than a little tender and sore.

I switched off the tiny video camera that looked just like another unused studio floodlight, and pulled the memory card. Before I burned a disc, I considered editing out the part where I got my own kitty licked, but then I decided ‘fair’s fair’, and left it all in.

I sell the dvds to my landlord, a creepy Albanian octogenarian with halitosis, erectile dysfunction, and a decades-long drinking problem, in exchange for a fistful of crumpled, greasy twenty dollar bills, and a significant break on the rent, all under the table. Someday I’ll finish my coffee-table book and the rent will go up accordingly, but for now it’s a work in progress.



  1. advizor54 said

    I finally got to the bottom of my post. It’s late at night, I’m hard, aching for a copy of that DVD, and wondering what decadence those sisters have in store….Fantastic work.

    • elsiewrites said

      Thank you!


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