The Taming of the Shithead

I sat on his face and said, "Eat me, Doc." He made a face and turned his head away, and I pulled his hair again. "Fucking eat me!"

"Mrs. Rosenberg slid forward till her breasts were pressed against my back. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and said, "He won't do it, baby. He's scared: scared of pussies. Come on home with me. I like your pussy."

I don't know whether she was trying to help me or not, but her saying that did it. Dr. Rosenberg turned his head, opened his mouth, and gave my pussy a lick.

Then his body convulsed under me and he threw up. His hot vomit splashed into my slit before he could turn his head and spew onto the bedsheet.

"That's enough," he gasped. "Let me up."

"Say you'll fuck me, Dr. Rosenberg. Say it and I'll let you up."

"Okay," he sighed. "Okay. I'll fuck you."

"You and Mrs. Rosenberg together."

"Shit," he said.

"That too," I said.

"No fucking way," he said, looking at his wife with distaste.

"Then I'll go home with her and you can stay here and jerk off."

Mrs. Rosenberg gave me a squeeze, and Dr. Rosenberg said, "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"Yeah, Doc, I know."

"Okay, the dyke can stay. But I won't touch her."

"You got that right," said Mrs. Rosenberg.

Me and Mrs. Rosenberg climbed off Dr. Rosenberg, one on either side of him, and he sat up, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand and looking like he didn't know how to start on what he'd promised. I got it: he was used to being in charge, doing whatever he wanted to my body, and he didn't know what to do with this new, assertive me.

His feet were still caught in his pants. I eased them off and tossed them aside. His cock was limp. I'd hardly ever seen it that way, hanging long and white and pink-headed from a nest of thick black hair. He just sat there, and everything about him was a little deflated. I didn't know what to do.

"His little peepee's soft. Forget about him, baby," said Mrs. Rosenberg. "You've got plenty of lovers, right?"

"I guess," I said dubiously.

"There's me of course, and who else did you say? Casey? Jeremy?"

"Jeremiah," I sighed, perking up a little. "He's a good Christian, and he's like young and good looking, and he has such a big cock. You should see how it stretches my ass!"

"The Reverend . . . the Reverend . . ."

"Edwards. He ate my shit last Sunday. It was so hot!"

Dr. Rosenberg was sitting up straighter now, the fire starting inside him again.

"Some monks?"

"Me and Casey gangbanged with them, and I drank a wine bottle full of their piss. I made like two thousand. They want us to come back next month."

"And Betsy?"

"Yeah, and Mo. We had so much fun with enemas! Me and you should try it . . ."

"Fucking whore!" Dr. Rosenberg bellowed, and launched himself at me, hairy hands outstretched and cock swollen with rage. He knocked me backwards, straddled my head, and shoved himself into my mouth balls-deep.

Mrs. Rosenberg sat cross-legged on the bed and watched me get face-fucked. "You know what they're saying, David?" she said calmly. "They're saying you left me for Brenda here."

He snorted with disgust and thrust once extra hard: I made a kind of quacking noise.

"They're morons," he said, returning to his previous rhythm.

"The story makes sense, though."

"No it fucking doesn't," he said with another hard thrust. "Only an idiot would leave you for this thing."

I reached for my pussy and rubbed myself. Nothing makes me hotter than getting insulted while Dr. Rosenberg is fucking my face.

"But you never liked me. You certainly never wanted sex with me."

"That's because you're frigid and boring. But you're rich and good looking, and you've got society connections. You were useful to me. What can she do for me? Introduce me around at the trailer park?"

"So you're not planning to marry her."

"You're such a dimwitted bitch. That's not even a good joke." He pulled out of my mouth, stood over me, and pissed on my face. I whined and rubbed my pussy harder.

"Still," she continued, voice level as if he hadn't just insulted her, "that's probably another reason you can't get laid. You don't go to a creature like this for anything but sex - so everyone wants to know what's wrong with you, that you're hanging around in Mickey's Tap trying to pick up women.

He stared at me as he pissed into my mouth - brow furrowed, like he was trying to figure something out. Mrs. Rosenberg got up with a graceful, fluid motion, stood behind my head, parted her pussy lips, and pissed on me. I opened my mouth wider, trying to catch both streams.

"I've never liked you, David," she said as she wetted my closed eyes. "I only married you because my parents said you were a good catch. But you're a jerk, and we've never had any shared interests - until now."

"What do you mean?" he said, shaking himself off above me.

"Now who's dimwitted?" she said as Dr. Rosenberg knelt between my legs, hoisted me up with two strong hands on my waist, and thrust into my pussy. "I mean her, of course." She crouched above me, lowering herself so I could lick the piss out of her slit. I could see and smell her asshole, which was still dirty.

She strained, and her asshole widened, but nothing came out. I tipped my head back so I could give her a lick.

"Uh!" she said, and strained again. Some thin brown ooze bubbled out of her and dropped into my mouth, stinky and wet.

I gagged and forced down her slime.

"Fuck!" said Dr. Rosenberg. I couldn't see him, but he must have been watching me eat Mrs. Rosenberg's shit, and I could tell it turned him on, because in a second he was pushing her off me, squatting over me, and straining.

This had to be some kind of record, me eating Mrs. Rosenberg's shit, my own, and Dr. Rosenberg's all in the space of a couple hours. A long turd snaked out of him, soft and wet, making a squelching noise as it dropped into my mouth with liquid plops till it filled me up and overflowed.

Dr. Rosenberg stood and looked down at me, cock in hand. This is where he usually drove his cock into my mouth, right through the shit and into my throat, but Mrs. Rosenberg moved first.

"Eat me," slut! she commanded and gave my hair a hard yank. I flipped over onto my stomach - most of the shit fell off my face onto the bedsheet. She was sitting right behind my head with her legs spread. Again she tugged on my hair, pulling me towards her, and I crawled through the warm glop to eat her with my mouth full of shit.

I filled her pussy with it, spreading it up and down with my tongue like jam; meanwhile Dr. Rosenberg was smearing my crack with shit and pushing into my ass.

And that's how we all came, with me eating Mrs. Rosenberg out, and Dr. Rosenberg fucking my ass, all of us reeking and me thinking I'd never had it so good. And when Dr. Rosenberg shoved his cock, coated with chunky brown shit, deep into my throat and came there, and my stomach spasmed and I threw up one last time that night, it was like sublime, and I was filled with so much heat and joy that I had to lie there between the doctor and his wife masturbating while they talked.

"It's not good for me either, you know," Mrs. Rosenberg said, wiping her sticky fingers in my hair, "them saying you left me for this tart. My friends laugh at me behind my back, just like people are laughing at you."

Dr. Rosenberg grunted but didn't say anything.

"They'd stop laughing if we got back together again," she went on.

"That's the dumbest idea I ever heard," said Dr. Rosenberg. "You're a dyke, and I hate your guts as much as you hate mine. Why the fuck would we get back together?"

"I'm not inviting you to fuck me, or even like me. In fact, I can promise that if you ever touch me, I'll cut your dick off with that big cleaver Uncle Teddy gave us for a wedding present."

"You've got no reason to worry about me touching you."

"It's a big house. You take the north half and I'll take the south half, and we'll run into each other as little as possible. But we'll share her."

I had most of my right hand in my vag by now and was whining as I squirmed on the bed.

"Why would I agree to that?" Dr. Rosenberg demanded.

"Because maybe it's finally penetrated into that dim brain of yours that women you think you own don't turn you on. Only sluts. Knowing I'm fucking her too might just keep you interested. And once people stop laughing at you, maybe you'll be able to get a piece on the side again."

"Nnnngghhaaa!" I shouted as I came.

"What do you say, David?"

"I guess we could try it out," he said, watching me lick my fingers.

"Don't I get a say?" I panted.

"What?" said Mrs. Rosenberg. It hadn't occurred to her that I might have an opinion about this.

"I mean, before you divvy me up, maybe you ought to ask if I want to be divvied."

"It's a good deal for you," said Dr. Rosenberg.

"Maybe and maybe not. I'm tired of being a dental assistant. I quit. You can pay me for being your live-in fuck toy."

"Okay," said Dr. Rosenberg slowly. "If dear Sylvia will split the cost."

"Fuck that," I said. "You'll pay just as much, and Mrs. Rosenberg will pay the same."

He snorted. "You quit your job and expect to be paid twice as much?"

I shrugged. "That's right."

"Why would we agree to that?"

"Because I want the money?"

"How much are we talking, David?" asked Mrs. Rosenberg.

"Her base salary was twenty-two thousand; she's jacked me up to forty-four, and now she wants that much from each of us - eighty-eight."

"I live in," I said. "I'm on call to fuck, I don't do housework, and I get two days off every week."

"It's a good deal," said Mrs. Rosenberg, if you figure it on a per diem basis . . ."

"You can have Monday and Tuesday off," said Dr. Rosenberg.

"Thursday and Friday," I said. "And I do what I want on my days off."

"Fucking whore," he said.

"Maybe. I'll get plenty of sex no matter what."

He rolled his eyes.

A couple hours later I was back in my little upstairs room, all clean and talking to Casey on the phone.

"And the sex was so good," I said. "It was so fucking spiritual. I really felt like Jesus was right there in the room, you know? And it was like His piss and shit I was eating. Just like in the Bible."

"What?"

"You know, like the Last Supper? Reverend Edwards and Father William explained it all to me, about holy communion, I mean. Anyway, I don't think Jesus is mad at me for fucking Dr. and Mrs. Rosenberg, even though they're Jewish."

"Of course not, sweetie! I'm sure He's happy for you getting all that money. Wow, that's just so great! Hey listen, I've got this date down at the VFW next Friday. They're so cool! They're like really old and kinky, and they all wear these musty old uniforms and funny hats. You want to come?"

"Totally! It sounds like fun."

"Yeah! We're gonna have such a good time!"