He squeezed out. some Prep-H. Ooops too much. He pushed a glob into Grace’s anal opening and scraped another big glob off the red rubber which he also lubed into her hairy crevice. He felt terrific … they were just going to have to arrange to do this more often. The woman’s enema nozzle was much daintier than the one lodged inside him, even though Kurt’s rectum was teeny and his wife’s was if anything impressive by comparison. But then men were men and women were women and this nozzle was especially designed for the fairer sex, just as the one shoved up inside him was designed by that Dr. Jay in New Brunswick especially for men - or rather “guys” (to quote the instructions on the box). “Oh you big clown! Quit fooling around.” “What’re you talking about, Hon?” “You stuck it in the wrong hole,” Grace giggled. Kurt rolled over and took his reading glasses off the nightstand. Sure enough. He couldn’t believe it. There was that nozzle protruding from the back end of Grace’s slippery brown vulva, a full inch south the proper slot. Kurt was astounded, he’d never made that slip before. “Sorry, dear. I guess I just wasn’t looking where I was going.” He pulled the plastic stem out and reinserted it into her pulsing asshole. “How’s that?” “Bullseye,” she crooned and indicated for him to start the flow. Kurt reached for the tubing and released the clamp. A minute passed, he was feeling lightheaded but good. “Kurty, I’m not feeling anything can you adjust the nozzle or something…” Oh Shit! Kurt suddenly realized that his own gut was about to burst and that the black enema bag was half empty. He’d released the wrong clamp(!) By the time he got his line cut off and hers started, he felt like he was going to explode. Grace knew intuitively what he was feeling and she began jerking her husband’s foreskin back and forth over the swollen dickhead, again diverting his attention from the temporary cramps which had sent his entire abdomen into spasms. “Oh yeah, that’s it, Hon, keep pumping.” He took deep breaths bouncing back and forth between agony and ecstasy. Then it was her turn for a spasm. “Aaaaennh… oooooh… Kurt… clamp me off I’m filling too fast.” This time he managed to get it right despite his growing lightheaded but happy loss of coordination. They lay there resting for a while. Finally she said: “Think you can take a little more, Kurty?” “I guess so, as long as you keep jocking me off.” “You really like how I jock you off, don’t you darling?” “You bet I do. Why you’re just about the best jocker-offer I’ve ever had.” “Is that a fact???” her tone went testy. “Oh not what you think, Hon. I meant before we got married… you know, with the other boys in the locker room - just messing around.” “I see… Well, then I forgive you… Boys will be boys.” Kurt decided to change the subject. “Lets 69. Okay? We haven’t done that in a long while.” “With the hoses in?” she asked incredulously, this wasn’t like her conservative hubby at all. “Sure. Besides, it’s about time we add to our bag of tricks.” He was feeling adventurous. “Whatever you say, you big lug.” She was very pleased as she watched the father of her three sons get up on all fours and back up over her with that thick black rubber tube snaking out of his ass toward the plant hangers on the ceiling. Little angry ten-year old Tommy still sat on the downstairs john grunting, pushing and straining his stopped-up asshole. Maybe if he frigged himself it wouldn’t ache so much. He’d watched Marvin do it with Victor and it made them real blissful. He took his tiny weener in his fist and began jerking it around. But it didn’t seem to want to get any bigger the way Victor’s did. Meanwhile Victor was in the process of demonstrating the art of masturbation to a new initiate. He and Marvin had done it to themselves, to each other, even once in front of Timmy. But Eddie had never done it, despite now being a good two weeks over 13 and already showing traces of a mouse-colored mustache. That’s what this whole slumber party was all about. It was Victor’s idea actually, but he’d made Marvin promise not to tell Eddie anything about it ahead of time. The three boys were sitting on top of the bed in their pajamas and Victor had hauled the rubber dildo back out from under the bed. “What’s it used for, Victor?” Eddie asked. “A dildo-dick? Why, it’s kind of a teaching device.” “A teaching device? I don’t get it.” “You will. Marvin and I’ll show you.” Victor passed the footlong rubber erection to the 12 year old Schidink boy. “Show Eddie how you beat off, Marvin.” “My dad says you’ll go to hell if you beat off.” Eddie stated with no little concern. “Your dad’s full of crap.” countered the older boy. “He is not. He’s a Born-again and Born-agains never lie!”
“He is too. Beating off feels so good - it’s the best, there’s nothing in the whole world that feels near as good. Not even screwing your girlfriend.” Marvin, who was about to show how you beat off a dildo-dick, looked up in astonishment. “You have a girlfriend?” “Of course I do.” “Oh yeah,” interjected Eddie, “prove it - what’s her name?” Victor thought for a moment. “Betty,” he muttered without much enthusiasm. Marvin was now really impressed. “And you screw her? Really screw her? In the pussy?” “Sure I do, right in the middle of her pussy.” Victor regained his tone of authority. “Yessir, right in the middle.” Eddie too was becoming convinced. “What does a pussy look like?” “Well, I’ll tell you, but only if you let me and Marvin beat you off.” “But I told you already… I don’t want to burn in Hell!!!” Eddie wailed. “Don’t be stupid, Eddie. You only go to hell if you beat yourself off. Not if somebody else beats you off. [....!??] “Are you sure?” Victor could see that Eddie wanted very much to believe him. “I’m positive. In fact you can even beat somebody else off and it doesn’t count… it’s only when you beat yourself that you go to hell.” Victor could see Eddie was weakening. He was pleased with himself. “But first you’re going to have to show us your penis.” The bald guy wearing the sunvisor was wheezing audibly. He weighed 275 pounds easily and could barely hold himself up in the squat over the scrawny longhaired guy with the pimples and coke bottle glasses lying flat on his back between the fatman’s legs in the bathtub. Here it comes… Kurt Jr. twisted his left tit with one hand while he held the bottle of Locker Room up to his nostrils with the other. The shaky camera panned down the fat guy’s back to his distended shit hole. It’s coming out… Kurt recapped the popper and rammed his middle finger back up into his own hungry poop-chute, just as a brown turd ribbon began squeezing out the fat man’s rectum, dropping by clumps into the longhair’s open mouth. Kurt pushed his finger in as far as it would go up up toward a lump of his own shit. He clamped down with all his might and then withdrew his finger to look at the treasure. It was clean. He held it to his nose and sniffed. Damn… nothing. Back on the screen the pimply guy had started rimming the filthy asshole. The shit was getting smeared everywhere. One of the guy’s lenses was completely mudded out. Now that is disgusting Kurt thought to himself. He was irritated with Shit lovers #3. It was exactly like Lovers #1 and #2. Why did they always use such ugly nerdy types in these scat videos? That guy shouldn’t be wearing his glasses for godsake. It was ludicrous and made the whole thing a travesty. Why couldn’t there ever be any nice healthy looking guys with white teeth, flawless tans and fresh blow-drys like in all the other porn? After all, I’m hot looking, atheletic, with a nice body, Kurt thought, I’m a shit lover… why can’t they make these movies with guys like me. This is so demeaning. It really pisses me off. If only he had more guts, he reasoned for the thousandth time. He’d given it so much thought… lead the movement, give public speeches, be a spokesman and role model, march in the parades… If only he had more guts. Guts enough to bring respectability to scat. Educate the public. Go into politics even. Who knew where it might lead? Kurt Schidink Jr. the country’s first Brown Hanky Congressman. B.M. Brothers Unite!!! Keep your chins up high!!! Don’t be oppressed just because you let people shit on you. Spread those Cheeks and Fly!!! It made his head spin. Kurt took another hit as the video shifted to a new duo. Well, not entirely new. There was that same fatty but this time he was wearing a black wig..(!) This is really insulting… what a piece of shit this #3 was turning out to be and he’d forked over $89.95 for it too. Non-refundable. At 10:03 pm, the exact moment of Kurt Jr.’s disappointing discovery, downstairs his father had positioned himself over his mother’s cunt and his tongue was beginning to search out what they called her little love-snail, his youngest brother Timmy still on the pot was on the verge of passing out from pushing out and his other brother Marvin was untying his pajama bottoms. And two blocks away out on the icy street the fuel pump of a ‘79 Ford Pinto was giving up its life, unbeknownst to Larry Henderson, the car’s current owner coming back from a gay bar through a neighborhood he’d never been in before. It was incredible coincidence that when the engine died it died right in front of 677 Rigoletto Place, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Schidink and their three fine sons. The coincidence was made greater by the fact that during the summer of his highschool sophomore year Larry and Kurt who were classmates and neighbors at the time used to get together to assfuck and suck each other off. But then Kurt’s family moved across town and Larry took up with a different crowd and the rest was history. Kurt and Larry had not seen each other in 25 years. Larry steered the coasting Pinto across a slick of ice next to the curb. Shit it was cold. For the first time that evening he regretted not wearing more than the jockstrap under his leather chaps. He got out and threw open the hood. His butt was freezing. He hoped he’d be able to spot what the problem was, only the problem was that Larry actually only knew zip about cars and realized that the gesture was more one of macho reflex than constructive action. Larry could see his breath in the beam of his flashlight. It was dark except for some yellowish light coming from behind the upstairs shaded window of 677. Behind those shades Grace was moaning herself through multiple orgasms under her husband’s increasingly clumsy ministrations and manipulations. Kurt didn’t know what had taken over him. He felt great. Out of control, but great. And then Grace crested her biggest wave and one knee kicked out in one of the many reflex actions her coming was prone to and landed square in the center of her hubby’s swollen tight-as-a-drum fluid-filled paunch. Ooofff. [pop] The stopper blew out of Kurt’s greasy red hole, which opened up like a fireman’s hose and sent quarts of brownish fleck-laden water flying across the bedroom spraying all over the mirrors and glasstopped vanity. What was happening? Kurt didn’t really know. He looked between his legs and caught the reflection of his hydrant butt at full power. Oddly, he felt removed from it all… no big deal… time stood still… he was just floating in a blissful out of body experience… In what may have only been seconds later he found himself sitting on the Port-a-Potty squirting out a few remaining ounces, while Grace, ever the vigilant homemaker, good-naturedly surveyed the damage. Larry Henderson knew he had only two choices, both fairly humiliating: ask these folks to call AAA or find a bus stop and hope that public transportation was were still running at this hour. He might have opted for the later option, however the risk of frostbitten buns made him decide to head for the front stoop of 677. I sure hope these folks are home, he thought to himself as he prepared to ring the bell.
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