ACT TWO, SCENE ONE

First a brief orchestral prelude,
and we’re back to the RAF again,
where it is still Friday 16th July 2060,
but later in the afternoon.

“Cocks and cunts!” Dr Dick held centre stage again. “It is time for us to proceed to the finale of this week’s proceedings – which I know you have all been looking forward to.” There was a hubbub of excitement from the audience. “What you are about to witness is utterly unprecedented. The RAF is pleased to have been able to form a partnership with the Queen Meghan Trust for Fucking Research, who have for many years been pushing the boundaries of New Enlightenment science, and have managed to perfect, for the first time in human history, fully effective futanari biotechnology!”

The audience burst into excited applause, which Dick-Dick quelled by announcing: “Two of our most distinguished postgraduate researchers – Yumiko and Fumiko – have been collaborating with the Trust, and are at last ready to demonstrate the results of their research to us today…”

Riley, Dick and Cunts cleared the stage, the latter two resuming their seats in the front row of the audience. Riley, however, slunk off to stand at the rear corner of the auditorium. Throughout Cunts’ afternoon question-and-answer session she had been eyeing Edward Turner with suspicion, and now continued to stare at him as he sat in the back row of the auditorium, his reserved manner, grey suit and tie so out of place amidst the surrounding sea of nudity and lasciviousness.

A hush fell over the auditorium, as soft ambient music commenced playing, the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and the two distinguished researchers glided onto the stage from opposite wings. Slightly built, pale-skinned young ladies wearing flowing chiffon robes, their hair shaped into soft bobs, soft bangs framing their pale faces, with fine features and gently slanting eyes, they seemed perfect specimens of feminine beauty. Their strangeness, however, was highlighted by their colour scheme: each one’s hair and lips matched the hue of her dress: Yumiko’s were deep pink, Fumiko’s pastel blue. They approached each other and kissed, their soft tongues – one pink and one blue – extending, curling, and touching gently, so that a bubble of spit formed at their meeting-point, whence a fine string of saliva began to grow and sway. Soon their tongues were tangling more deeply, gently penetrating each other’s mouths, slobbering softly along and around each other’s cheeks and chins, so that they glistened and gleamed in the soft stage light.

But a slow gasp of astonishment was building in the auditorium, as the spectators noticed what was happening further down the performers’ bodies: a pair of identical bulges growing in their crotches, slowly tenting their skirts outwards. The front slits of their skirts parted from the internal pressure, and two cocks revealed themselves, bobbing and shuddering as they escaped their respective prisons. Yumiko and Fumiko gasped with pleasure, and the audience purred with delight.

Riley knew she should be watching the dickgirls more intently, but instead she continued to stare across the dim auditorium at Edward Turner. He appeared, perhaps uniquely among the spectators, not to be watching the show, but bowed his head with an apparent air of disquiet, muttering to himself under his breath.

The audience, however, continued to marvel at the newly-revealed futa cocks – for these were not just any old cocks, but specimens of magnificence and beauty. The New Enlightenment audience was used to genetically modified cocks – it was 2060 after all: by now it was commonplace for young men to be issued nine- and ten-inch cocks as standard – but these futa cocks were not just exceptionally large, but rich and strange, arresting, irresistible, and more perfectly designed than anything ever known before. Each about twelve inches long, and concomitantly thick, these cocks were stiff as steel, and appeared to emit their own natural glow, which pulsated gently with a soft heartbeat rhythm. A tightly trimmed triangle of pubes, matching its owner’s hair colour, graced the skin just above each penis. And as each cock rose stiffer and angled further upward, its foreskin smoothly retracted to reveal a shining throbbing glans, its colour echoing that of its owner’s lips and hair. Simultaneously, a tight hairless pussy, with colour-matching labia, was revealed just below each pair of heavy dangling testicles. Two pastel cunts gleamed and dripped, and two tinted cockheads bobbed, touched, and began to rub against each other, seemingly making themselves shine even brighter. Yumiko and Fumiko whimpered into each other’s mouths, painted tongues still tangling and drooling, gleaming pastel-tinted pre-cum beginning to seep from their cockheads to create a dangling web of pink-and-azure slime which dribbled down onto their heavy balls.

The audience were held in such rapt attention that hardly anyone dared to fuck or jerk off at the sight, or even speak, such was the sense of historical moment, and the sheer beauty and wonder of what was being witnessed. But Riley, lurking in her corner at the back of the side aisle as she licked her buttplug, started, as she noticed Mr Turner quietly stand, shuffle past a couple of audience members to the far aisle, and tiptoe towards a rear exit door.

Yumiko was now kneeling to take her opposite number’s blue-headed cock between her finely chiselled deep pink lips. The audience held their breath – for Fumiko’s cockhead seemed impossibly large – and then gasped as the pink lips parted wider than seemed humanly possible, and the huge cock slid effortlessly into the girl’s mouth, then deep into her throat. Fumiko began a slow throatfuck, gentle at first, then gradually faster and deeper, every now and again pausing with her balls hard up against Yumiko’s chin, her partner’s throat bulging obscenely and her eyes watering with pleasure.

Riley wanted to watch more, but instead hastily returned her buttplug to its proper home between her buttocks, and followed Mr Turner, at a safe distance, out into the corridor. He was not, as Riley feared, heading toward the exit, but the opposite direction, towards the toilets. Oh OK, he just needs a piss, thought Riley to herself, as the man disappeared through the door to the male toilets (marked, for clarity’s sake, with a large line drawing featuring a thick stream of pee erupting from an erect male cock). Riley returned to the auditorium, where by now Fumiko was doing a headstand, her huge blue-headed cock dangling, still stiff as a girder, toward her face, whilst her opposite number, standing behind her, held her legs apart and was pushing her massive pink shining cockhead against her light blue puckered asshole. Riley, no less than everyone else in the audience, gasped in wonder, as the upside-down performer’s tight hole stretched, parted, and sucked the huge cock deep inside, till Yumiko’s huge balls slapped against her partner’s buttocks.

Yumiko began to fuck, her massive cock gliding effortlessly in and out of the other futa’s blue-tinted anus. Leaning in, her pink triangle of pubic hair kissed her partner’s buttocks; pulling out, the blue futa’s asshole gaped, wider than anyone could imagine, a perfectly round, deep blue hole of such beauty and mystery that even assfucker extraordinaire Dr Riley Throstlethwaite-Eccles was enraptured, mesmerised. Suddenly, however, she forced herself out of her reverie, noticing that Mr Turner had not yet returned from the toilets. Shit, she thought to herself, momentarily smirking at the double meaning, before tearing herself away yet again from the performance to check the corridor outside.

Just as well I checked, she thought to herself as, poking her head out of the auditorium door, she caught a glimpse of Mr Turner’s retreating heels turning the corner at the opposite end of the corridor from the toilets, heading towards the main exit. Oh no you fucking don’t, she thought, following the man, always at a safe distance. Shit, what do I do? she cogitated. Call after him now? Ask him now? Or follow him? Motherfuck, what do I do? She wrung her hands in desperate indecision. She wanted to call out to him, to accost him, to confront him with the question which was burning in her mind – but it was really too late, and she knew it. For Edward Turner had reached the end of the corridor, passed swiftly through the main lobby, past the reception desk, and had exited the building.

Riley ran out of the front door, still thinking, It’s not too late. I could grab him now, ask him now… But Mr Turner was hailing a taxi, getting in, shutting the door.

And then he was gone.

Fuck, cursed Riley. Fucking cunting fuck…

And as Riley stood on the front steps of the RAF, deflated, frustrated, and annoyed at her own indecision and cowardice, Yumiko and Fumiko were on stage approaching their money shot. They stood facing each other, each pumping her own massive cock with two delicate hands, each throbbing coloured glans angled upward toward the other’s face. Both women whimpered and panted as their moment of sweet climax approached, feeling their cocks throb, twitch, and stiffen yet further as their hot futa-cum boiled and charged up their shafts towards blessed release. And as their cocks exploded simultaneously, a great cry of wonderment arose from the audience. For both futas’ cum was bright and fluorescent, shining and sparkling as it shot through the air at its opposite number. Yumiko’s was of course pink, and Fumiko’s pale blue, and as each thick rope of enchanted coloured semen landed exuberantly on its recipient’s face it created what an Enlightened audience such as this recognised as the most beautiful thing on earth: two beautiful female faces decorated, adorned, drowned in a rich latticework of coloured fluorescent cum. Cum splattered across the two dickgirls’ eyes, pooled on their upper lips, webbed around their tongues and teeth, dripped from the ends of their noses, and formed on their dainty chins great beards which dangled, swung, stretched tantalisingly,  and eventually snapped, splattering onto their tits below. As the audience sighed and wept in Enlightened artistic ecstasy, Fumiko and Yumiko approached each other, cum-coated tongues outstretched, and kissed passionately. They licked and slurped, dribbling jizz back onto each other’s faces and into each other’s mouths, so that shining pink and azure stripes of cum intertwined, mixed and melded, and their countenances became bearers of a glorious, gloopy, shimmering coating of multihued futa cock-cream.

Their peer review process thus duly completed, the two distinguished postgraduate researchers, their huge dribbling cocks now gradually softening, turned towards the audience and beamed. In the front row of the audience, a delighted Professor Cuntslicker stood, tears of joy running down her cheeks, and led the audience in rapturous ovation.

But Riley Throstlethwaite- Eccles was left standing alone on the pavement on Maryleboner Road, cursing herself.

*

“What ever happened to Riley?” wondered Dr Dick out loud, as he and Professor Cuntslicker let themselves out of the Royal Academy of Fucking at the end of a very successful day.

“No idea,” shrugged Cunts. “She seemed very interested in that man, you know, the one in the grey suit. She couldn’t stop watching him.”

“Ha! Maybe she fancied him fucking her ass,” chortled Dick-Dick. “You know, that girl has a supernatural instinct for sniffing out guys with big dicks…”

Cunts laughed. “‘Coffee’?” she suggested.

Dick-Dick raised one eyebrow. “Is that with or without ‘inverted commas’, E. J.?”

“Oh, with, I think. Yes, definitely,” smirked Cunts, reaching out to give her colleague’s crotch an affectionate squeeze.

“Your place? Mine? Or somewhere else?”

“Oh, it’s a lovely warm evening. What about in the park?”

Ten minutes later, Cunts was seated naked on a low-hanging oak branch, her back against the trunk, her legs spread, while Dick-Dick stood, his face buried in her crotch. The early evening summer sunshine cast long shadows across the grass, as passers-by hurried on their way home, paying scant attention to the couple enjoying their crepuscular arboreal fuck.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” mumbled Dick-Dick, as his tongue gently tickled the amethyst which took pride of place this evening in Cunts’ clit-ring.

“Oh, Dick, you can always find other cunts to eat,” answered Cunts breezily. “Even with gemstones on their clits…”

Dick-Dick’s tongue was now gently probing between Cunts’ pussy-lips, prising them open to release the fragrant nectar within. “You know that’s not what I mean, don’t you, E. J.?”

“Oh, Dick!” sighed Cunts, partly in affectionate exasperation at his persistence, and partly in response to the magic his tongue-probing was beginning to work on her insides. She decided to address the latter point: “That’s good, right there – and now just curl it up just a bit… yes, there, oh fuck, that’s good!”

“You’re changing the subject!” remonstrated Dick-Dick.

“No, Dick – this is the subject. This is what it’s all about, remember? Fucking. Pleasure – and the building of a world where everyone can have that Pleasure, all the – oh fuckfuckfuck, yes, finger right there…” Dick-Dick had moistened the middle digit of his left hand with Cunts’ fuck-juices and was gently circling it around the tight pucker of her asshole.

Dick-Dick paused his pussy-licking to look up into Cunts’ face, even as the tip of his finger probed into the moistened space just within the rim of her asshole. “But what if that’s not what it’s all about, E. J.? What if there’s more to life than that? What if there’s something more important? What if I want nothing more than to spend time with you, to be in your presence, to hear your voice? What if, whenever I’m with you, I’m happy – and whenever I’m away from you, my heart aches?” Dick-Dick began to slide his middle finger in and out of Cunts’ ass, whilst the thumb of his other hand began to circle her clit-bud, making the amethyst on her clit-ring glitter in the early evening light.

“Well, then, Dick, you’d better enjoy me while you can…” smiled Cunts. “Oh, that’s good: love your finger technique! Now slurp that tongue of yours up and down: I want to feel your spit on my asshole, go on.”

Dick-Dick was finding it difficult not to be distracted. “Dammit, E. J.,” he sighed, momentarily losing control of both temper and technique, and ramming his finger into Cunts’ rectum in one slightly too forceful thrust. Cunts gasped. “Oh, sorry,” Dick-Dick apologised, but continued to speak: “I know you won’t let me say what I mean, won’t let me tell you the one word I want to say – but that doesn’t take away the reality. Losing you is going to be the worst thing in my life. And you don’t deserve it: you have so much more in you to give. This world, this country, needs you as much as ever before. Just because the Enlightenment says –”

“Dick.” Cunts spoke forcefully. “I am the Enlightenment. If it wasn’t for me and Hildegard, there would have been no Fuckers Party in this country, and we would have stayed in the Outside World, whilst Europe raced forward. You know that. The whole country knows that. I know what you want me to do. But if I am to be credible, if everything I have devoted my life to is to mean anything at all, if I am not to be looked upon as a hypocrite and a coward – like all those people, Undesirables or otherwise, who reap the benefits of the Enlightenment but flee when things start to get difficult or find some pathetic excuse to get an exemption – then I will stay and accept the price, the necessary price for the life which we have brought to the people of this country and this Continent. My answer, again, Dick, is: no.”

Dick-Dick stood, his left middle finger rigid and immobile in his boss’s asshole, his face inches from her glistening cunt, its powerful fragrance wafting through the warm air up to his nostrils, his jaw trembling, and tears leaking down his face. “Oh God, E. J., I will miss you so much…”

Cunts reached down, her hand stroking Dick-Dick’s hair gently. “I know, Dick, I know. But now… fuck me: that’s all there is.” She reached down further, pulled her colleague’s finger out of her asshole, held it up to her mouth and sucked it clean, before slipping off her branch, kneeling on the grass before him, and unzipping his cock-sleeve to expose his long stiff mushroom-headed shaft. “Go on, Dick, fuck my face: that’ll make you happy…”

Soon Dr Dick was doing just that, and Cunts’ superlative oral technique was showing itself to be still at the top of its game. The rhythmic music of cock in gullet echoed – gluck gluck gluck – exuberantly across the park, whilst Dick-Dick plumbed the depths of his boss’s throat, scooping saliva out with his cockhead and letting it course and dribble down her chin and onto her still firm surgically enhanced tits. Even for an expert like Cunts, speaking is hard with a cock in your throat – which provided a good excuse for them both to pause their rather tense conversation and concentrate, as Cunts said they should, on their own shared Pleasure.

For, after all, as Emma Jane Cuntslicker believed to the bottom of her heart, nothing else matters.

Reader – does it?

ACT TWO, SCENE TWO

We start with some English light music, redolent of the 1950s,
but with a slightly anal flavour. Go figure.
It is the same evening (Friday 16th July 2060, as you know),
but in a council flat not far north of Kings Cock Station.

“M’ cunt, Mum, I’m home!” called Riley, as she shut the front door behind her, removed her buttplug with a soft squelch, let out a long fart, gave the plug a hearty slurp with her tongue, and hung it, with its tail, on the key rack in the hallway.

“Good day?” called a voice from the kitchen.

“Yeah, fine,” replied Riley, in a somewhat deflated voice. “Graduation performances – and Cunts running Q&A sessions on her new book. What about you?”

“Oh, pretty quiet. Not sure how much longer we’re going to be able to stay open. Cocksco’s offerin’ half price on a dozen blowjobs: independents like us can’t compete with that. Well, at least it saves me jaws…”

“Gary not back yet?”

“He rang,” replied the older woman, as Riley entered the kitchen. “Got delayed at the Hospice, somefink about a very complicated Final Fuck: padlocks, and balloons, and blancmange and stuff. But he said he’d be back for tea. Sausages and mash – and onion gravy,” she added, as she stuck a fork into a steaming saucepan on the hob.

“Yum!” trilled Riley. “Done any extra for me arse?”

“Bangers, mash, or gravy?” teased the older lady.

“Oh, a bit of everything, I think!” cackled her daughter, before changing the timbre of her voice: “Muuummm.” Riley pronounced the word slowly and thoughtfully, walking to the fridge and faux-innocently taking out a cucumber. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ooh, I know that tone of voice,” replied her mother. “Means you’re after somefink. Or you’ve done somefink wrong. Mmm, they’re ready,” she added, fetching a colander from a kitchen cabinet and carrying the steaming saucepan to the sink.

“No, no,” remonstrated Riley, shutting the fridge before sliding the top end of the cucumber into her mouth and wetting it thoroughly with her saliva. “It’s just… well, can I ask you about… well, you know, about… ‘Eddie’?”

“Oh shit.” The older woman looked momentarily alarmed, paused draining the potatoes, but then sighed, “Why are you askin’ me now? Haven’t I told you everyfink already?”

Riley sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, spreading her legs and absentmindedly starting to rub the moistened end of the cucumber across her clit. She angled the vegetable downwards, ready to slide it into her pussy, but paused, the bulbous end squelching gently against her cunt-lips, as she considered what to say next.

But her mother interrupted her thoughts: “Oi! What are you doin’ with that cuke? That’s for tomorrow. Mrs Nurk’s coming round for lunch; she doesn’t want your pussy-slime on her salad!”

“Aw, Mum, you can peel it, can’t you? It’s just… I really need a fuck. I’m all worked up. I hoped Gary would be back by now.”

“Oh, what’s got to you? And what’s all this about your… your… well, him? It’s been such a long time, what the hell?” She put the drained pan of potatoes on the kitchen table, added milk and butter, and began mashing, rather more forcefully than normal.

“OK, well, I’ll tell you,” replied Riley, as she began, despite her mother’s objections, to slide the moistened cucumber gently into her pussy. “Oh fuck,” she muttered contentedly, as her mother rolled her eyes. “There was a man today, at the Academy, at Cunts’ Q&A session, who introduced himself as ‘Edward Turner, originally from Henley-on-Thames’.”

The older woman raised her eyebrows, before shrugging. “It’s a common enough name. And he left the country, as you know, before you were born.”

“Yeah, this man mentioned something about the Outside World, but… I mean, he looked a lot like that picture you showed me of him. I mean, a lot older, of course – not blond anymore, but grey, very grey – but still the same sort of body shape and features, you know, thin, with that hooked nose. Oh fuck, that’s good.” The cucumber continued to slide in and out of Riley’s cunt, collecting a glistening layer of slime along the way.

“So, did you ask him who he was?” The older woman frowned as, potatoes mashed to her satisfaction, she slammed the masher down on the kitchen counter and proceeded to the oven to take out the sausages. “I mean, ‘Good afternoon, lick my pussy, Sir, terribly sorry to bother you, but are you my feckless hypocrite of a father who, despite claiming to be a man of the cloth, abandoned my pregnant mother to poverty twenty-fuckin’-seven years ago to swan off to fuckin’… Zimbabwe or wherever it was?’” There was an aura of rising indignation on the woman’s face, but Riley was, sadly, oblivious to it, as she began to moan and squeal under her breath at her impending orgasm, two fingers of the left hand diddling her clit as the cucumber sped up its cunt-pounding.

Her mother’s annoyance – unlike the potatoes – boiled over. “Will you stop fuckin’ yourself with that cucumber, and listen to me?”

“Shit!” cursed Riley, her orgasm interrupted by her mother’s outburst. “Why couldn’tcha just let me fuckin’ come?” The cucumber was still sticking out of her pussy at a forty-five-degree angle, her damp pink flesh stretched wide around it – but the moment for orgasm had passed, and in her frustration she had reverted to her habitual North London accent, years of academic elocutionary training effaced by one frustrated climax.

“Why couldn’t I…?” The older woman spluttered. “That’s fuckin’ rich! You’re the one asking me about your dickhead of a father, and then when I start to tell you you’re too busy fuckin’ yourself to fuckin’ listen to me!”

Riley opened her mouth, ready to bellow a reprimand – but at that moment the front door clicked open, and a man’s voice called, “M’ cock! Sorry I’m late!”

Both mother and daughter paused, and sighed. “Shit,” they muttered together in new-found understanding and reconciliation.

“Gary, I’m horny and frustrated, I need a fuck!” called Riley in the direction of the hallway.

“Oh no you fuckin’ don’t,” interrupted her mother. “You eat me bangers and mash first, then we wash up – and then you can fuck all you like. All right?”

“All right, Olive,” smiled Gaz, as he entered the kitchen, his flaccid nine-inch cock dangling casually from his open fly.

*

Little more than half an hour later, Gaz was enthusing with a gentle burp, “That was delicious, Olive!” whilst reaching over and squeezing Riley’s tits with one hand. The detritus of dinner lay uncleared on the kitchen table before them.

“Glad you liked it, Gary,” smiled his mother-in-law, scraping her plate clean. “Now, if we all help wash up, then you can…”

“Mum,” interrupted Riley. “Why not let Gary and me do all that? There’s one sausage left, and a bit of gravy and mash. I can think of some fun we could have with that – and promise we’ll wash up and wipe up afterwards, all right? Why don’t you go and relax?”

“Aw, that’s nice of you, love. Don’t mind if I do. I’ll shut the door to the front room, if that’s all right with you: I’ve got one of me classic pornos to watch tonight…”

“Oh, you won’t disturb us, don’t you worry, mum,” grinned the daughter. The kitchen door had not yet closed before her palm was wrapping itself round Gaz’s thick shaft and stroking it urgently into a huge erection. “Oh shit, I’m so fuckin’ horny, Gaz,” breathed Riley. “Here, fuck my cunt while you stick this up me arse. Sage and apple,” she added reassuringly, picking up the last remaining lukewarm sausage from the table, before hosting her buttocks onto the kitchen counter and opening her legs to display her two holes, the upper one glistening pink and irresistible and – unusually for Riley – gaping wider than its puckered partner.

Gaz grinned, before picking up the gravy boat and dribbling warm onion gravy onto his wife’s vulva. He dipped the end of the sausage in the same gravy, before sliding it gently into her anus with a noisy squelch, then nudging his stiff cock against her pink gravy-coated fuck-lips. Through the door to the living room, they could both hear the sound of Olive’s movie beginning to play: Oh, you’re gonna fuck that ass, Mr Byron? You fuck that sweet little fucking asshole. Yes, baby, break it in. You’re so big, Mr Byron, so big…

“Oh, I know this one,” grinned Riley. “So come on, Gary, fuck me cunt and make me come. Then you can do me arsehole like Tommy Byron’s doing to Jenna!” she squealed. “Go on, gimme that ‘toad in the ‘ole’!”

Gary’s cock was huge and stretched Riley’s fuck-lips wide as it pounded energetically in and out of her gash. “Yeah, motherfuck, that’s so fucking good, Gaz, fill me up with that big cock, go on, ram it in ‘ard!” cried Riley, as she reached down with one hand and began to fuck the gravy-coated sausage in and out of her asshole in time with Gaz’s cunt-pounding.

In the next room, the filthy cinematic monologue was continuing: Oh my God yes, that feels good, I like that, Mr Byron, yes, I’m your dirty little neighbour slut who takes it in the ass. Oh – fuck yes, fuck it. You know how long I’ve needed that dick in my fucking asshole?

“More gravy!” shouted Riley, reaching for the gravy boat and tipping it over Gaz’s cock, so that congealed onion jus coated his shaft and balls and dribbled down between Riley’s thighs onto the end of the sausage sticking out of her asshole. Gaz’s cock continued to fly in and out of Riley’s cunt, splattering the best of Bisto up and down her torso and thighs, whilst she continued to masturbate her asshole with the sausage, making it squelch and fart noisily. “Oh yeah fuuuck!” she squealed. “That sounds so fuckin’ filthyyy – oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

Gaz knew the signs, both linguistic and behavioural, which signalled his wife’s approaching orgasm, and he knew how to make the most of it. He lifted Riley’s lithe figure off the kitchen counter and, supporting her thighs with his arms, pulled her gravy-coated body towards him so she could grind her clit hard against the base of his cock. “Oh yeah!” squealed Riley. “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, Gary, go on, jizz in me fuckin’ cunt while I come all over ya!”

Gaz did just that, releasing spurt after spurt of cock-cream deep into Riley’s fuck-hole, whilst in the next room Jenna Haze was screaming: You’re gonna make my fucking ass come. Come talk dirty to me while I come all over your dick. Oh – fuck!

As her orgasm approached, Riley used her anal muscles to suck the sausage deep into her rectum, before bearing down with all her might and propelling the gravy-coated sausage out with a loud squelchy fart. The flavoured missile flew across the kitchen, landing in the dish of leftover mashed potato, lodging itself vertically at the end of the bowl like a sage-and-apple erection. “OH FUUUCK!!!” screamed Riley, as her orgasm swept through her body, filth and ecstasy combined. And it would have been a wonderful orgasm, were it not for the fact that, just at that moment – the front doorbell rang.

Riley paused and cursed. “Shit! Who could that be at this time?” Gaz continued to grind his cock against her, feeling his come swashing around deep in her cunt and begin to dribble out between her still pulsating fuck-lips. “No, no, stop, Gary, I wanna know who this is…” In the next room, Olive had clearly paused her movie – for Jenna’s obscene monologue had ceased – and was padding towards the front door. Riley hung onto Gary’s torso, her cunt still speared by his gradually softening dick, his cum beginning to seep slowly down one of her buttocks, her arsehole winking and squelching as gravy dribbled out and dripped onto the floor.

Riley and Gaz heard Olive open the front door, pause, and gasp. “You! What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Olive,” said a voice, in an accent which sounded rather old-fashioned, though perhaps with a slight admixture of southern Africa in it.

“God, Eddie!” whispered Olive. “Why on earth? Get out of here, before she hears you!”

But it was too late, for Riley appeared in the doorway, naked, her body and tits smeared with onion gravy, and a mixture of gravy and man-cum trickling down her leg.

“Hello, Dad,” she said. “I thought it was you.”

To be continued…