Drawn-Out Sex

He looks about himself, and his eyes finally focus on what is apparently Dagwood Bumstead's naked butt. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes, then looks again. Yes, it's Bumstead all right, and he appears to be screwing Blondie...in the ass! And it is she who is grunting, and now squealing, with evident pleasure.

Many a morning, on his route, Beasley has hoped against hope for, if not an ounce of encouragement, perhaps a glimpse of any of Blondie's generous endowments. This is an answer to many a silent prayer, and it awakens a well of desire in his loins. The Bumsteads are oblivious to the world, and take no notice as Beasley's hand strays to his hardening manhood.

* * *

Cora parks in front of the Bumstead home, strides up the walk and raps on the door. No response. She pushes gently on the knob and it proves to be unlocked. She peeks around the door. When her eyes adjust to the relative gloom of the indoors she takes in a remarkable tableau: Blondie Bumstead, her eyes closed, grips the back of an easy chair and is squealing like a stuck pig. Her lush buttocks are thrust up behind her, and behind them, Dagwood is panting heavily and pushing himself ever deeper inside her. Beyond Dagwood there is a uniformed man masturbating like there's no tomorrow—-good heavens, it's a mail carrier, and—-oh, my lord, he's hung like a horse! And--upon my word, it's Beasley!

* * *

Tootsie Woodley has spotted their new neighbors, Irving and Cathy, across the fence between their back yards. Herb and Irving exchange a few pleasantries while Irving continues to scrape his barbecue kettle. Tootsie and Cathy, meanwhile, discuss this and that like old friends. Herb notes that Cathy is a remarkably shapeless woman, and he is inexplicably annoyed by the heart embroidered on her overalls.

Finally the women wrap it up, and the Woodleys re-cross their back yard toward the Bumsteads'. Tootsie mutters to Herb, "I give that marriage about another month."

* * *

Beasley looks across the room to see where the sunlight is coming from, and makes out Cora Dithers' substantial and backlit form.

Cora! Older, of course, with a good deal more girth, but still he recognizes the debutante he dated back in college. Cora! So many nights of unbridled sexual ecstasy. Cora! She had taught him so much of the ways of love, but eventually the call of her world of wealth had forced them to part.

Cora's eyes and Beasley's meet at the same time, and they are all at once 19 again. Stimulated by the sight of the Bumsteads' animalistic passions, they swiftly come together and begin tearing off each other's clothes. Beasley is surprised and delighted to find that she wears black leather lingerie under her tasteful tweed suit.

Cora takes Beasley's enormous schlong, which she remembers with such fond regret, in both her hands and pumps it up and down as she takes his tongue into her mouth. Soon they are on the floor, Beasley on top, his raging hard-on sliding to and fro through the deep valley between the gargantuan breasts she pushes together to enclose him.

As their momentum builds, across the room Dagwood reaches a shattering climax, and begins to spew unbelievable volumes of cartoon spooge. A sustained bellow is forced out of the sweat-drenched Blondie from her very fundament as the initial white hot ejaculation rockets inside her, and Dagwood pulls out of her and continues to shoot twirling gobbets of cum all over her pert backside.

It is at this point that the Woodleys enter the living room via the kitchen, having let themselves in the back door. Herb drops the hedge trimmers.

At the sound, Dagwood, Blondie, Beasley and Cora turn to them, and everyone's eyes go wide. A stunned silence ensues. Everyone looks at everyone else. At last, Herb and Tootsie look at each other, and start getting naked.

* * *

Julius C. Dithers, as if on cue and utterly predictably, parks his car and walks up the Bumsteads' walk. The drive over has served only to increase his maniacal rage, and he is mentally adding flourishes to the horrible doom in store for Bumstead. A single blow of his fist against the door swings it wide open, and he is greeted with the sight of two mustached men performing a double penetration on a large woman who has her face buried between the legs of Tootsie Woodley, while Blondie Bumstead, grasping her magnificent mammaries and lifting them up to lick her own nipples, sits swaying and cooing on Tootsie's face.

Dithers takes a closer look at the tangle of bodies to see if he can recognize the stout woman at the bottom of it all. He does.

"CORA!!" he thunders, and all eyes turn toward the disturbance at the door.

"JULIUS DITHERS, YOU WORM!!" she counters, and, naked except for a mailman's hat and a studded black leather belt, she extricates herself from the jumble to cross to her husband at the door.

She slams it and grabs Julius by the ear. Dragging him, bumping, across the floor, she demands "How dare you intrude, you wretched little toad?! And why aren't you on your scabrous knees, vermin?!"

"I'm sorry, my dear," he whimpers, dropping. "But I- "

"Silence, you bat-faced little weed, and spare me your sniveling excuses."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Now kneel there and watch while I return to being pleasured by these MEN in a way you never could, and don't you DARE touch yourself while I enjoy these two supple nymphs."

"But Mistress, can't I help?"

"Yes, Julius...You may give the dog a bath—-with your tongue."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress, thank you!"

* * *

And so, we close the page on this happy domestic scene, as Herb Woodley and Beasley the ten-inch postman roger the boss's wife while, in turn, she and Blondie lap away at cartoon muffs, and Dagwood Bumstead, American Everyman, naps on the overstuffed couch, sending loud SKNXs ceilingward, undisturbed by the puzzled whimpers from one very surprised grey dog.

* * *

Epilogue: That night, after the ghost stories, the singing, and the cooking of s'mores, Cookie and Alexander Bumstead say goodnight to their friends by the campfire and go to their respective tents.

Not long afterward, each receives a clandestinely prearranged visitor: an eager young man crawls into Cookie's tent as Alexander welcomes a pretty redhead stifling her giggles.

Later, Cookie's young man and Alexander trot off in different directions and at roughly the same time to answer Nature's call and, in the bucolic darkness, crawl back into the wrong tents.

Alexander's inamorata and Cookie's beau discover the error almost immediately, but decide against intruding upon the sounds of passion-—clearly long-suppressed—-that issue from Cookie's tent.

The next morning, the Bumstead siblings decide it would be best never to speak of the episode to Mom and Dad.

They'd never understand.

END