Clitology
by codadown
Downloaded from: http://plushpersonals.com/Pumped_4_Fun
The women came in advance of their husbands.
There was much pumping of their clits to be done.
But first they would have their pussies, shaved, powdered and lightly
feathered by cunt worshippers of every sexual persuasion. The goal was
to induce nature, for one night, to magnify and grow in a bridled
stimulation exercise. To excite and hold and build and build and
hold... and build until... they could only think and feel about one
thing : SEX.
Sex for the sake of sex. No bills, no spouses, not even children would
matter. Only their cunts and every nerve synoptically connecting to
their cunts would matter. C'est magnifique!
These are those who feel orgasms are the first option to anyone that
ever touched themselves. They keep and do not diminish us. The best
thing was to intensify them to the point of paroxysm and cum as hard
as possible, as many times, or one time, or not at all. Everything
leads to the next cum. The juice and the taste of cum, would keep one
young like a prick that has been charging and recharging- afraid to
cum and miss out on seeing a deeper shade of red with hot, pink
highlights.
The clit pumping room was off the lockers through swinging doors,
where trained clit pumping techs worked their machines with
exactitude.
Overhead lighting was "dark room red" and the floor floodlights
sported banana yellow tones. Suspension swings were laid out next to
the white pumping stations. Each participant was harnessed into a
leather swing and masked for the intake of pure oxygen. Then, the
sunlamps were lit and beamed down on the shaved cunts.
Soon, the cunts were sun kissed and ready for the fittings. The women
were told to remain silent. They could not say a word. Words and
unwords would come later with the cumming. The techs worked the
customized pumps on the cunts. They were magnified under pin-sized
white lights and already juiced. No one spoke.
Pressure was gently applied at first as the clits were unhooded and
tubed in thimble sized vacuums. The clits were waiting, nakedly
waiting, to be engorged by pressurized stimulation. They were going to
be pumped into fabulously brazen shades of pinks and rude, ruby reds.
Some of the technicians teased and adjusted the pressure at up and
down rates, to build the sensation of sucking from deep within- then
they held it! The goal of pumping is to get total engorgement of the
clit. All clit hoods were folded back beyond the suction area. This
was a clit party.
The energy in a roomful of hot, red clits would be wonderful. This was
it.
Buckets of ice were carefully placed near every swing to assist the
techs in teasing and maintaining the growth. The tubes were pre-
Vaselined ( for growth in a controlled environment ) and ready to
accommodate the emerging little pricks, those ever swelling domes of
hugely, abnormal size.
Blood engorged the pink, pearl shaped buds to be almost thumb-sized.
They swelled and ridged like circumcised prickheads. Little pink alien
heads.
Before tonight, some were already huge, body building drug-sized
clits. All this, and their owners still wanted to be pumped to
greater, gargantuan sizes. They knew the larger you could get them,
the thicker the stem and the so, so sensitive underside of the
fattened buds for licking.
Exhibitionism was the ticket into here. The swing club had hired a
Clitologist to set up the deal. Working or not working, single or
married, you had to love to get people aroused. You had to be in love
with your cunt and all the pleasure it provided you and others who
fucked and ate it. You had to like to play the whore role, smoking in
the bordello, in costume. But this time, you had to give your cunt and
clit control to someone who would : keep you from cumming. until you
were almost ready to pass out with desire!
They had been garbed in white towels during the pumping, but now were
ushered into another room that had been set up with magnifying mirrors
so they could see the results. Some tried to quickly come off, but
they were being watched and quickly escorted into the make-up room.
Here is where care and a theatrical attention were appreciated by all,
because their cunts were throbbing so much and needing any distraction
from the anticipation factor.
The makeup artists worked with each guest on a very personal level.
How can we accentuate your look? Can we change your polish? Bluen or
olden your lids. Add a dangles to your tits? Highlight your hair? No,
we're not allowed to touch you down there with anything, but makeup.
They lipsticked the outer and inner lips and rouged the cheeks and
nipples, always using restraint. Natural redness was easy to see and
not to be camouflaged in powders. Exotic pheromones were applied to
accentuate the persuasive powers of subliminal scent. Lastly they were
lightly oiled with a disappearing, emulsive substance that carried the
aroma of raisins and fruit jellies.
Next, came the dressing room. Earlier in the day, the husbands had
dropped off the costumes for the evening's " festivities. " Latex,
rubber, velvet, rayon, silk, chiffon, rope, leather, heels, platforms,
boots, girdles, scarves, thongs, panties, tap pants, bras, slips,
togas and chain mail. Everything was there, waiting to be worn.
Waiting to be torn. Waiting to be cum in. Waiting to be cum on. They
dressed quickly.
Under other circumstances, dressing would take hours. But tonight, the
feeling that you're carrying around a ten pound clit was enough to get
you dressed and on your way. Changes of costume were available for
those, who did not wish to be " cum sluts," who display fresh, hot cum
on their costumes, like whores, who compete and flaunt their stained
outfits as badges; medals to the redness of their pussies making cocks
stiffen and erupt. Pricks, spasmodically shooting off to the spreading
slut play of these tramps!
Heeled, costumed and made up, they proceeded to the bar. They knew
this place. They had fucked and sucked here before. But never like
this time. Bottles of Veuve Cliquot, white wine, and trays of fruit,
fine cannabis and cocaine dipped cigarettes were at the oxygen bar.
The room was empty. Music twiddled in the distance, gradually becoming
louder. They looked kookily at each other. " Oh god, we are such
sluts!," their collective reasoning surmised. What's gonna happen
next? We can't wait!
They started to grab and grope each other as the music woofed louder
and then suddenly stopped. The doors swooshed open. Dressed in black,
young, masked men and women, entered the bar. Pairing off, they
engaged each guest and started sucking their tits and massaging their
inner thighs with salacious intent. It was as if they had been
schooled in the art of knowing where every nerve in the body and brain
met and communicated sexually. Still, they did not touch one cunt,
lick one pussy, or finger one longing twat. Then, they worked on the
asses. They did finger the butts.
They kneaded and pinched and bit them They slapped them: sometimes
softly, then hard, than harder. The guests had been eating, drinking
and smoking and were getting buzzed and butted. The music was back,
and they began to dance as only women can do with each other. They
paired off, grouped, and danced in mating rituals. They proposed
marriage to each other, for they knew, this was to be an unforgettable
time, that could only bring them closer to each other, through it's
succulence. If they lived through the experience. They were ready to
implode!
Next to the bar was a large dance floor where obscene images were
projected on the walls. The room shook with music and the vibration of
what seemed like a thousand clits tuned to the frequency force of :
MAKE ME CUM! MAKE ME CUM RIGHT NOW! I NEED TO... CUMMMMMMMMM! Please!
The administration assistants disrobed. They were pierced, leathered,
cock and clit-ringed and pre-cumed. Fueled with Viagara, they began to
work the room as it threatened to levitate from the energy of the
first, long awaited orgasms. Paroxyasms!!
This sound was not unlike that which Ulysses heard before corking his
naked ears to the Sirens of Circe. Yelping, whimpering, yelling
obscenities - they came and came some more. Assistants rushed to wipe
the floor, where cum had squirted or run down from their legs. Their
heavily made up eyes were awash in that faraway look. They were the
center of attention and just now, they could be looking toward Venus
or Mars. This was appropriate, however, because two of the party rooms
were posted with signs labeled VENUS and MARS.
In VENUS, the room moderator was a very tall, sophisticated, older
woman with an enormous clitoris. She was made busy, instructing
nymphets on just how to lick it. It was a mushroom. It was double
ridged, erect, glowing. But it was a grain between the ridges where
she told her assistants to concentrate. It had to be worked hard with
the tip of the tongue. until they felt her soul spewing forth.
Then they had to insert a toy or fingers and catch her soul in her G-
Spot There, they held her and made her beg for more. " Meet the new
boss... ," their acting seemed to say. Suddenly they sucked her soul,
her whole cunt, into their mouths and she came in waves, in torrents.
The guests were friggin' themselves off to this display. They exploded
on each other. And started to taste one another's pussies, licking up
the juices that were popping out of them
One way mirrors were all over the place. This time, the undisclosed
voyeurs were the husbands of these women. They were the same men that
paid the bills, loved the kids, loved their wives and went off to
their therapists to discuss why?
Why the idea of having a slut wife was taking up more of their
thoughts. This was not the way there parents behaved. Their parents
had house parties, played ' Twister " and flirted. This was something
all together different : " See Gail in pew #6, I was fucking her in
the ass last night while she ate out my Judy! " This, however, was
even beyond that pale. This was a special clitty party!
Mirrors looked on the MARS room which was set up like a warrior's
tent, from long ago. Here the guests would experience what it was like
to be a woman on the losing side. Here, they could be a winner if they
showed enough skill and feel for being a camp fucker and follower. All
they had to do was fuck and suck muscular men who happened to be play-
raping them, not against their will.
Who knows how many of us are descended from what went on in a victor's
tent? Some women just have a look of sex about them. Can we say they
might be descended from a long line of camp followers? Certainly not,
but that's not the point, here.
Here is the point. Imagine daughters hearing their mothers being
fucked (tent walls are thin, tent poles are thick). Imagine, as they
became older, they were forced to fuck and better their life because
of their fucking skills. Who could blame them and who can deny that a
strong biological lineage exists from these women to present day. They
had the taste to survive. We don't usually immortalize them in our
commercial cinema. They are more the stuff of literary circles.
The tent walls groaned with " Fuck me hard! " and " HARDER " orders.
The young men responded by fucking their brains out. But they could
not extinguish the fires in their swollen, large clits. Like beacons
of depravity they glowed greater with the anticipation of each new
clit-twanging event.
No husband was allowed to take his membership out from his pants. At
this time, the only unveiled cocks belonged to the young men who were
fucking the shit out of their wives. They loved every second of it.
This time it was all advanced. No pressure. They didn't police, they
didn't video, photo, or whatever-o they did most other times, when so
many people got together for some fun. Nobody takes a notebook to fun!
This, however, was beyond any of that Everything was prearranged, just
drop the clothes off.
What they didn't know, was what was to come next.
The night passed quickly. Hard dicks, swollen pussies and assholes
were everywhere. Most, left on their costumes that were virtually
shelled with sperm. Guests were " snowballing " each other. Their
vaginas expelling the cum out to one, while she's sucking you, then
sloshing it between your tongues and, with a knowing smile, dripping
it on your tits.
The studs were not totally drained, just resting. Escorts to
debutantes. They were totally unused to this many women, whose pussies
were speaking to them in tongues, radioed by their clits. Many had cum
and cum again because the atmosphere was like an electric storm.
Totally unpredictable. It didn't matter how old these women were, they
were unmatched in their quest to cum.
The husbands were in the clit pumping room. The room was now lit like
a bistro. There was only the distant sound of a cello. The pumps had
been moved to the side and each man ( and in two instances, a woman )
was told to go to a particular swing station. The harnesses remained.
There they stood, absolutely mystified. Hearing the first strains of a
violin, they saw the door open and in strutted their cum soaked wives
in the flesh, agitated like lions, prowling for more.
To each went their own, when a loudspeakered voice advised the guests
to get back in harness. and present their clits! The husbands were
amazed. They could only dream about what they were saw next. They were
so alive, these clits looked like they were going to get up and walk
away by themselves. Although they wanted to touch them badly, they had
been forbidden to do so.
Next, they were told to sell their wives to each other. The men would
grip and feel up her ass, shove their cocks in her mouth, tweak her
titties. All this, in the interest of buying her. She's not livestock,
she thinks and knows there is good reason to be bought and cum quite
hard from the thought of it. Once bought, she fucks in front of her
husband. He must watch her flash him the knowing look, while taking
her clit to new adventures with another man. He cannot join in. But he
will get his, too, tonight from another man's wife.
Portable cunt pumps were re-pumping, but, this time pumping the entire
cunt, hood, lips and all. Not all were fucking. Many were bidding,
selling and slut spreading. But one thing was certain. Everyone was
hard! Everyone was ready to cum! Those who were fucking were
attracting crowds. One man licked another man's wife to a string of
cunt boggling spasms. Men casually walked by and spewed cum all over
her, as a sign of their appreciation for her whoring ways.
At the end, there would be a few solitary screams, here and there, as
the last juices flowed. Some pussies were being iced, others were
still frigging their bright, beacon-red clits. Looking for the next
big cum. Their quims were well fucked and frothing from it. Their
cheeks were reddened and their eyes were west of peaceful.
The End
Downloaded from: http://plushpersonals.com/Pumped_4_Fun
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