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Fogbound Encounter 9

By Katzmarek

The Magirus-Deutz bus growled it's way along the new cement road. The
awe-struck passengers pressed their noses to the windows, staring at the
giant grey cigar.

The `cigar,' though sported giant fins on which the peculiar symbol
designed by Dr Albert Speer was painted, black in a white circle in a red
square.

This was the new Germany with a new flag and symbols. Just as the old
empire had been swept away by the first world war, the economic disasters
of the late `20's had dealt a body blow to the fledging Weimar republic.

The bus drove right up to the giant airship. Under the nose Kimi read
`Graf Zeppelin' in black gothic writing.

Everything about it was bigger than anything that had gone before.
Length, height, gas capacity and along the hull six engines. Diesels, Kimi
noted, with a wry grin,

`If only `the Chief' was alive to see this.' he thought.

A small dais had been set up next to the control car and as the guests
assembled themselves in some sort of order a small welcoming party of
uniformed men arrayed themselves on either side.

A rather solid looking man in a brown uniform ascended the dais. Around
his arm he sported a red armband with Dr Speer's symbol, the swastika, on a
white disc.

"Welcome to the new Germany," the man said, "as deputy Fuhrer of the
German Reich it is an honour to stand before you, veterans of the German
Airship Service of the Great War. You are, like myself, fliers and heroes
who gave your souls for the honour of the Fatherland only to be betrayed by
those who chose to stay safely in their homes and make profits out of your
sacrifice..."

Holding her husband's hand with the other wrapped around their
10-year-old son, Eliza whispered to Kimi,

"Who is he?"

"Herman Goering," he whispered back, "he was the last commander of the
Richthofen `Jasta' at the end of the war. He was a lot slimmer then."

"I don't like his eyes, " she whispered, " he bores right through you."

"Probably short-sighted," Kimi told his wife.

"A short sighted pilot?" Eliza giggled, "I don't fancy flying with him."

Kimi was never one for speeches and this was a long one. He dearly
wanted to break away from the crowd and have a look at those motors with
his son. He hoped to have a chance later.

"... At last Germany, the new Germany, is going to take its rightful
place in the sun. Already The German government under the guidance of
Chancellor and Fuhrer Adolf Hitler has thrown off the shackles of
Versailles, thrown off the shackles of the Washington naval agreement, we
will see off the last contingent of foreign soldiers from our soil and look
towards the future with pride..."

Kimi lost track of the speech again. He looked at his watch in
annoyance.

`I really wish he'd get on with it.'

"... We will build fleets of aeroplanes, flotillas of airships, our navy
is rebuilding, our army will be the most feared in the world...so I invite
you, heroes of the Great War to join with us in giving pride to the Reich.
Join with us and become heroes of the future with our great Fuhrer, Adolf
Hitler... sieg heil..."

"What was that all about?" asked Eliza, "I thought he was going to give
himself a hernia."

"I gather he wants me to join up."

"Are you going to?"

"Not if I have to listen to that all the time," he grinned.

The Kasemanns had lived in Galston for 15 years. They'd made a
comfortable life for themselves and 10 year old Jimmy. If there was any
ill feeling towards him from the locals it had quietly disappeared.

Now a British citizen, he'd even enlisted in the Royal Navy Reserve and
spent one weekend a month tending the big Thornycroft engines of an inshore
patrol boat.

While Eliza worked as a nurse at the local village hospital, Kimi ran
the only garage in the area. He repaired and maintained everything from
private cars to farm tractors, bicycles to ploughs and seed drills.

Britain was using German technology to build it's own giant airships.
One, the R100 was being built by Vickers, the other, R101 by the
Government. Kimi and Eliza were planning on taking a voyage on one of them
when they were completed.

So when he'd received a letter from Germany inviting him and his family
on an honourary cruise on the giant `Graf Zeppelin' they'd jumped at the
chance.

The voyage had been organised by the Reich war-veteran's association in
conjunction with DLB, the Deutsche Luftschiffbau. (German Airship Company)

They had no idea what a propaganda exercise it was to become. The red
carpet was laid out, tours organised and events arranged for the children.
All to demonstrate what giant strides had been made in Germany and to
encourage the airship men to enlist in the services.

Curiously absent on the tours were the scenes of streets with `Juden'
(Jews) daubed on shops and homes? Nor, indeed the camps quickly filling up
with opponents of the Nazi Party.

While Eliza and Jimmy were conducted on a tour of the airship's luxury
interior, representatives of Daimler-Benz and DLB showed Kimi and other
veterans, an engine car.

The engine was a conventional upright six, but innovative in it's use of
lightweight materials. It wasn't, however, reversible. The time required
to stop the engine, then set it in reverse was too long. Additionally,
two-cycle diesels hadn't reached the required level of reliability by 1934,
except for large marine engines.

MAN of Nuremberg had developed a set for the new armoured ship,
`Deutschland', then just launched, however these large engines were a
constant headache to the Navy.

Descending the ladder from the car, Kimi came face to face with Goering.
He was a large man in every way, resplendent in his brown party uniform and
always accompanied by a pair of boot-clicking aides.

An aide read out Kimi's name from a list and the Deputy Fuhrer extended
his hand.

"Joachim, I'm pleased to meet you. I hope you have been impressed by
what you have seen?"

Kimi nodded.

"Good, we have need of good men like you. Let me tell you of what I've
been planning. Soon we will unveil the new German Luftwaffe. For years
the French has crippled Germany by the treaty that those traitors at
Versailles signed. But no more! We will once again take our place among
great nations."

Kimi didn't really want another speech but the commanding presence of
this big man held him spellbound.

"Joachim, I will personally offer you an Officer's commission if you'd
join the new Luftwaffe. Who knows, soon you might be a General in charge
of aircraft engineering, no?" Goering said laughing. The big belly laugh
commanded those around him to laugh too.

"I hear you are to be taken around the Reich in the `Graf'. Take a
look! See what we have been able to do in two years with our Fuhrer at the
helm and imagine what can be accomplished in the future, good day. "

He strode off saying,

"Reichenau, that man was a Captain wasn't he?"

Kimi was feeling unsettled by all the snapping and saluting going on
around him. The old airship service had been relatively informal and the
clicking of heels was beginning to annoy him.

It was night before they returned to Munich. The airship veterans and
their families were taken on a sedate tour of southern Germany

As they approached the town of Nuremberg, Kimi saw pillars of light from
searchlights aimed straight up into the sky. On the ground below, a giant
swastika was illuminated.

The Zeppelin drifted slowly around what appeared to be a floodlit
stadium. Below were ranks and ranks of soldiers packed together in 4
blocks of humanity.

Many of the passengers on the airship were mesmerised by the sight. On
cue, the massed ranks below extended their arms in the Nazi salute, making
the blocks appear to jump before their eyes.

Someone down the promenade deck started shouting `sieg heil' in
response. Someone else shouted,

"I'm with you!"

Kimi and Eliza looked at each other in disbelief and moved young Jimmy
away from the windows.

"Kimi, lets go home," Eliza told her husband.

"Aye! I don't doubt they'll be bringing in all the farm equipment soon.
Harvesting is coming up."

"Kimi, you don't want to go back into the air again, do you?"

"Generals don't fly, love. They just keep desk chairs warm," he teased.

"Well? Do you want to be part of this?"

"This is all crazy," he said, "with all the talk, I don't doubt they'll
want a war, soon, against France, maybe Russia. Once was enough for me."

As the Kasemann's headed back to Scotland on the London to Glasgow
Express, Kimi felt the letter burn a hole in his pocket. It was the formal
offer made by the German Air Ministry, the Reich Luftfahrtministerium, of a
position as an instructor at an aero engine maintenance school. He told
them he'd consider it and put it in his breast pocket.

It was a world away from Galston and it's broken tractors and blown
gaskets, an exciting and challenging world with a more luxurious lifestyle.

But Germany now disturbed him. There was overconfidence about the
people he'd met that bordered on the arrogant. It was if overnight,
headmaster's sons and bakers daughters had been elevated to the aristocracy
by putting on an armband and uniform, and it gave them the right to be
boorish and overbearing and downright rude.

He thought of his old Captain, Karl Heinz Freiherr von Dalwig zu
Leichtenfels. He had expected deference to his rank and title and received
it. This Goering and his people DEMANDED it by menace.

But most of all, the system demanded scapegoats and that fell on the
Jews, and Communists and anyone else deemed `undesirable.'

He'd rather live in a village where the only thing you had to fear was
Alec Gorman's bad temper, when his Fordson got stuck in a drain.

Donald, Kimi's young apprentice, picked the tired family up from the
railway station in the little Dodge tow truck. The young mechanic
chattered to Kimi about all the jobs he'd done, and those needed doing
while Eliza snuggled into Kimi's shoulder. Jimmy sat on the deck of the
truck, still dreaming of airships and massed saluting.

His parents barely tolerated the next few days of young Jimmy stiff-arm
saluting and clicking heels and the `sieg heil's' when he came and went.

But when he asked his mother to make him one of those armbands, Eliza
snapped.

"Joachim Kasemann! Tell your son to take his pure Aryanism out of my
house. If he clicks his heels one more time I will put him in fluffy
slippers."

Kimi took his son on a little walk.

"What have you got against Jewish people?" he asked him.

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.

"Then why would you want to drive them out of their homes, smash up
their furniture and close their shops and businesses?"

"I wouldn't."

"Well that's what the Nazis are doing in Germany. In the old Imperial
Navy there were many Jews, good loyal Germans and Jewish. Now your Nazi
friends are saying they are all traitors and war profiteers and must be
driven away. You know the Draper, Mr. Klein?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Mr. Klein who gives you toffee when you pass his shop?"

Jimmy nodded again.

"Who brought you home in his Morris car when you fell off your bicycle?"

"You want to smash his windows, Jimmy? Ban his children from school?
Paint insults over his house and dump manure over his door? Is that a good
thing to do? You want to go around to his shop with a gang of thugs and
beat him up in the street?

Kimi's voice rose in volume. He turned to face his son.

"How do you think Mr. Klein feels when you give the Nazi salute. How
do you think he would feel if you strutted around with a swastika armband?
Think about his friends and family who are being bashed up in Germany,
Jimmy. For Mr. Klein's sake let's have no more Nazi stuff, ok?"

"Ok."

Jimmy Kasemann's unofficial membership of the Nazi Party ceased.

Later that night, Kimi and Eliza cuddled in bed together. Jimmy was
asleep in the next room, Kimi had lit a candle by the bedside.

" I understand what you mean about floating in an airship," his wife
said, "it's like being held up by angels."

Kimi put his hand over her pussy and planted a kiss over her breast.

"Helium! The US navy's on the right track. But it needs to be cheaper
to produce. Hydrogen is too tricky to use... your headlamps are on," Kimi
said licking a nipple.

"Very funny! And what do you call this?" Eliza said, grabbing his stiff
cock.

"Ready!" he said, undoing the buttons of her nightshirt.

POSTSCRIPT

In 1939 Joachim `Kimi' Kasemann became James Cheeseman by deed poll.
Initially as a Sub-Lieutenant (Reserve) and later as a full Lieutenant he
served on the Aircraft Carriers HMS Formidable and HMS Illustrious in the
Mediterranean and the Far East.

He survived the war and resumed his business in Galston.

In 1962 he retired and lived in the same village until his death in
1982, aged 85.

Eliza died the year before at age 83. She was matron at the village
hospital in Galston for 30 years.

A sister, Isabel, joined Jimmy in 1936. They are both still alive.

Jimmy Cheeseman joined the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm and was training
as a pilot when the war ended. He worked with his father post-war,
eventually taking over the Garage when his father retired.

Isabel is married and lives in Glasgow.

Jock Smyth became Game Warden to the Duke of Tavistock and Lough after
the 1st World War. He retired in 1929.

Bruno Lody emigrated to the US in 1920 to be an artist in New York. Not
successful in that competitive world he founded a chain of delicatessens
that still bear his name.

Herman Schoemann remained in Germany and joined the Nazi Party in 1924.
An alcoholic he was killed in an argument outside a tavern by a fellow SA
member. Dr Goebels added his name to the list of `martyrs to the cause,'
and claimed the Communists killed him. Then had the real killer
assassinated.

The 3rd Waffen SS Division `Herman Schoemann' was annihilated in Russia
during the battle of Kursk.

THE END

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2004-07-27T09:52:00.000-07:00

(F/F, Authoritarian)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It`s a story of lesbian sex, so
if

that offends you, or is illegal where you live, or if you're underage
where you live, then you must not read it. It is a work of FICTION.

Thanks to all who wrote regarding my other stories.

Please be sure to vote and send feedback.

enjoy, Suzy

------------------------------------------------

Pissing on Patti
By: Suzy Suburbanite

Chapter 1

I didn't start my day intending to find a new femme. For the past four
months, my girlfriend, Sasha, kept my pussy happy and wet. So, like I
said, I didn't intend to go out looking. That is...

My friend Janet and I spent the day at a pride event. We shouted and
yelled and screamed for our rights. Janet was much more into the whole
political thing, but I always liked hanging out at pride days for the
available pussy. This day however, the cute femmes were all clustered into
their tight little high school-like cliques, which pissed me off to no end.

"Are you going out tonight?" I enquired of my stout, fuzzy-faced friend
as she dropped me at my apartment.

"No, I think Lisa and I need to discuss what was said today at the
rally."

"You fucking pussy."

Janet just shook her head at me as I trotted up the stairs to my
apartment.

Ok. Yeah. I'm a dyke. I'm not just a regular, run-of-the-mill dyke,
but what some would call a leather dyke. Actually, I'm more of a blue jean
dyke, but I do still get off on fucking femmes...the more girly-girl, the
better. I like to hear them whine and cry. I like it when they beg for me
to fuck them harder with my strap-on or my fist.

So anyway, I go into my apartment and there is a phone message from
Sasha explaining that she was called to work and had to travel to Reno that
evening.

`Fuck!' I was even angrier now, `first those stupid femme cunts today
and now Sasha is gone.'

I was pissed that I couldn't work out my anger on my femme girlfriend's
cunt.

`What to do? Who to do?' I pondered for a moment, `Yeah, that's the
ticket.'

I decided to go pickup a straight femme girl and give her what for.
Like many of my friends, I just love to turn-out straight girls and teach
them what fucking is really all about. And I knew just the bar.

Chapter 2

Saturday night 10:30 PM. This time of night I usually had my girlfriend
bent over the arm of the sofa, fucking her wildly. So, since I wasn't
doing that my mood now wasn't any better, if anything, it was worse than
earlier in the day. I was entering the bar at the local Bennigan's.

The first time Sasha and I ate at this joint, I couldn't believe all the
prime pussy running around. From the cute high school and college girls
waiting tables, to the desperate young worker bees out looking for "love"
from some guy, the place was chock-full-o'-cunt.

So here I am, a butch forty-six year-old dyke entering the great bastion
of mallscape singles bars. The bar was creepy as hell: bad pick-up lines
blended with cheap perfume and cheaper, fruity cologne to create an
atmosphere of suburban desperation and broken, white-picket-fence dreams.

`Why the fuck am I here?' I thought as I drew my sights on the pussy
sitting at the bar; all lined-up like ducks at a shooting gallery, `That's
why!'

And THAT was a little cutie sitting about mid way down the bar. She
looked half drunk, and was a serious girly-girl. The cunt wore a pink
angora sweater for Christ's sake. Oh man, pink angora, "mmmmm".

"Move, I'm sitting here," I growled at the little boy in his
sweater-vest who sat next to my fuck-o-the-night.

He started to say something, but when you're a wimpy-assed white boy
(C'mon, give me a break...a fucking sweater vest?) and you're suddenly
confronted with a six foot tall, crew-cutted, stanky, blue jean-wearing
dyke with an attitude problem...

"Sure," he sulked away with his Bud Light.

"Makers Mark with a Fat Tire back," I told the bartender, who was
laughing at sweater-vest boy running towards the other end of the bar with
his tail between his legs.

"You got it Denise," the bitch behind the bar shocked me when she said
my name, at least until I recognized her eyes.

I couldn't remember her name for the life of me, but I do remember those
eyes looking up at me from between my legs. Maybe a year or so ago, my
girlfriend and I picked her up at the Butterfly, a soft lezzy bar.

"Oh yeah, hi...um."

"Zoe."

"Zoe, yeah, nice to see you again," I was polite, but my interests
clearly lay in little miss pink angora, and thankfully Zoe caught-on
quickly.

"On me."

"Fuck...thanks," I said, a bit stunned at her offering of free booze.

`That bitch must need some,' I thought; remembering that she sucked cunt
ok, but nothing too remarkable. I watched her ass jiggle away as I
recalled that she was real vanilla. She wouldn't do any of the kink that I
like, `well...if little pinky doesn't work out...'

It took me all of ten minutes to get miss pinky's attention away from
the preppy dicks who circled her like a pack of confused fags. "Can I buy
you a drink baby?" "Want to ride in my Lexus baby?" "Can I give you a beach
house baby?" they sang in their sensitive-boy voices.

What a bunch of pathetic, fucking losers. Get to the point fellas.

"Hey Pinky," she turned towards me.

`Shit, she's cute.'

"My name's Patti, Patti Precious," she was bombed out of her gourd as
she tried to act indignant at my calling her "pinky".

"No...fucking...way," I guffawed at the little blonde slut.

"Mmm, you smell good. What is that?" she asked in a glazed, drunken
slur.

"Old Spice," I snarled at her.

Oh man-o-man, I was going to fuck this one silly. Pinky, Patti...Patti
Precious was going to know my dick and my cunt very soon.

"Look, I don't have time for all the bullshit," I began as I grabbed
Pinky's hand and led it towards my package, "My dick is bigger, harder and
better than theirs, and I want to take you home and fuck you."

Her eyes shot open in amazement when her hand grasped the long, thick
plastic dick inside my jeans.

"Oh wow."

"Yeah...wow, now let's go," I commanded the drunken straight girl.

Hey, it's not the first time I took advantage of a woman's sobriety, or
lack thereof.

"Bye Denise," Zoe, the bartender shouted from a distance.

"Oh, your name is Denis?"

Shit, Pinky was fucked-up, but what the hell. If she thought I was a
guy, then let her keep thinking it...she would learn to suck my cunt soon
enough.

Chapter 3

"Shhhhh, my roommates will hear," Patti begged me to be quiet as we
entered her dark apartment.

"Lead on Pinky," damn she had a great ass, and, even in her drunken
state, a nice wiggle inside her little black knit skirt.

I pushed her bedroom door closed as she started to get undressed.

"No Pinky, leave it on," I stopped the little fuck bunny from removing
her sweater.

I hugged her from behind, running my hands over her firm tits and down
under her skirt to her hot little cunt.

`Damn, pantyhose...I fucking hate pantyhose.'

"Get on the bed Pinky...c'mon, on all fours...no, no put your knees
together." I commanded the willing straight slut.

My hands rubbed her thighs and broad ass before I pushed her tight skirt
up around her waist.

"I hate pantyhose Pinky," I snarled right before ripping the hideous
things down the center seam, exposing her ass.

Her panties, or more like butt-floss, were next as I grabbed the string
wedged in her ass and ripped that apart. Her cunt cleft was big and furry.
And man was that cunt ripe: pissy and fragrant...just raunchy enough for my
tastes. Pinky's cuffs definitely didn't match the collar, if you know what
I mean.

Little straight girl was whimpering as I tore her panties away from her
cunt, and was trying to crane her head back to look at me when she heard my
belt buckle being loosened. I just gave her a swat on the ass and told her
to lay her head flat on the bed.

"Ever been fucked by a girl Patti Precious?"

"No, that's gross," she was almost completely out of it, still unaware
that she was going to be fucked by a girl right shortly.

"Damn Pinky, your cunt is a fucking swamp," I marveled at the thickness
and quantity of the cream her cunt was pumping, "You already been fucked
tonight bitch?"

"No," she was obviously embarrassed by her cunt; probably one of those
straight girls who's too uptight to even look at her hole in a mirror, much
less like the way it smells.

I dropped my jeans around my ankles and stepped-up to the plate, ready
to swing my mighty bat into the Precious pussy. The sound of my dick as I
slapped her ass with it could easily be heard outside the confines of the
room. The straight girl whimpered and moaned as I striped her ass with ten
inches of randy dyke dick.

"Oh my God, you're huge," fear filled her voice as she waited, ass in
the air, for me to take my pleasure from her body.

`Am I the luckiest dyke daddy on the planet, or what?' I stared down
triumphantly at this little blonde, pink angora-wearing fuck toy before me.

"What do you want Pinky?" I teased her with the tip of my plastic dick,
rubbing the fat head around her sodden cunt and bumping her clit, "Huh
Patti?"

"Oh Denis please put it in me," she whispered, breathlessly.

"Do you want me to fuck you in the ass?"

"No, no...in my...my...vagina."

Oh fuck the "V" word. Women who use the V-word haven't a clue on how to
use that tasty gash between their legs. It's a cunt damn it. She was
probably one of those "Vagina Monologues" spouting, sex-hating, sex equates
violence idiots. Just because it ain't gentle and based in emotional love
doesn't mean a good hard fuck isn't fun.

"You mean your cunt Pinky? Do you want daddy to fuck your tight cunt
with her big mean cock?"

"Un huh."

"Say it then bitch. Beg for my big dick. Tell daddy what you want."
God I loved these games.

"Please daddy, fuck my cunt."

It was a start, but far from the volume I was looking for. I was here
to turn Pinky out, and that meant her roommates need to know what a slut
she really is.

I inched my dick just into her hole, "What baby, I couldn't hear
you...louder."

"Fuck my cunt," eh? Better, but it was going to take a bit more coaxing
on my part.

"Louder Pinky," I fed my dick in a bit further.

"Fuck me, fuck my cunt," now that's more like it. I bet that one woke
up the roommates and the next one would really get their attention.

"Louder slut!"

"Fuck my cunt!"

Oh yeah, now we're talkin'. I was getting into my rhythm now, almost
balls-deep into the Precious cunt. I couldn't believe how thick and slick
her cunt cream was. The sounds were fucking hot, "Slurp, slurp...thwacka,
thwacka..."

"Louder"

By the time I was up to speed, she was screaming her little pink lungs
out.

"Say fuck my cunt with your big dyke dick," I demanded as I let it rip
and really gave her a pounding.

She squealed and groaned, "Oh Daddy...FUCK. OH FUCK...MY...CUNT.
OH...FUCK MY CUNT WITH YOUR BIG DYKE DICK."

I could have been a three-legged, one-eyed monster at that point for all
she knew or cared. Pinky probably never came like that in her entire life.
She slammed her big ass back at me as I fucked up into her. Faster and
faster, harder and harder we fucked. I slapped her pantyhose covered ass
and rode my pink filly to the finish line.

She was a silent screamer, well at least until her dam burst all the
way. Then she was grunting in a long, drawn-out "unnnngghhhh" like she was
struggling with a week-old turd.

Patti Precious collapsed forward onto the bed. Her well-fucked cunt was
still humping up into the air as if my dick was still inside her. The girl
mumble incoherent straight girl things like, "The best" and "Where did you
learn that" and my most favorite straighty phrase, "I love you".

`Fuck yeah Pinky, you're about to love me,' I grinned to myself as I sat
on the floor and removed my boots and blue jeans.

Chapter 4

I removed my jeans jacket and harness and stood ready to give Patti
Precious her first taste of a ripe and seasoned cunt. Little Pinky was
still slumped forward on the bed, her ass in the air, her torn pantyhose
and panties framing her furry cunt.

`Hmm...maybe I should give her ass a ride before I...' that thought left
my mind quickly as she began turning on her back. I knew I would need to
get my cunt on her mouth quickly, before she had time to think.

Kneeling by the side of the bed, I began rubbing her tits through the
fuzzy angora. There is something so hot about femme girly-girls in angora.

I grabbed her hands and placed them on her own tits, "Rub them for me
Pinky; I want to get off watching you play with your tits."

The girl closed her eyes and began caressing and pinching her tits
through the thick angora as I stroked her cunt through what remained of her
pantyhose. Soon little Patti Precious was all moans and groans, and that
was my signal to get some serious face time with good ol' Pinky.

"Oh Denis," she called out, "you're so good to me."

I kissed her hard in the mouth as I led her right hand down to her cunt,
"Fuck yourself Pinky."

"Hmmmm."

"And Pinky," I said as I stood on the bed above her, my feet on either
side of her head, "it's Denise, not Denis."

"Oh my God you're a woman," she was all freaked, at least until I sat my
steaming cunt squarely on her mouth.

"C'mon bitch, eat fucking cunt," oh yeah, her roommates heard that for
sure.

Little straight girl--"No, that's gross"--Patti either licked or
suffocated, and right quickly she started moving her lips and tongue so
that I allowed her to breathe.

It took her few moments to settle down and stop struggling under my hot
cunt, but once she did, she was all moans and groans again. The bitch
couldn't suck cunt for shit. No skill whatsoever, but damn, she looked
good wearing my mustache.

I decided to make things a bit less complex for her, as after I
repeatedly told her to "suck my clit" the dumb girly stuck her tongue up my
hole. Leaning back on my hands, I scootched forward so her nose was up my
cunt and her tongue was in my ass.

"Eat my asshole Pinky," I was beside myself as straight girl stuck her
tongue right up my ass.

"Oh fuck yeah!"

Within a scant few moments I was riding her face hard, using her nose to
bump my clit and smearing my cunt all over her mouth and cheeks. What
Pinky lacked in skill, she made up for in drunken submissiveness, allowing
me to ride away until...

"Eat my cunt you fucking girly," oh yeah, there it is. I baptized
little Patti Precious into being a good femme. That door was open now, the
threshold had been crossed and she wasn't going back out that door if I
could help it.

Pinky held tight to my thighs, pulling my cunt harder onto her mouth as
she sucked girl cum for the first time in her life.

After I came down a bit, I slid down her body. Feeling the fuzzy pink
angora against my cunt was tantalizing, `Note to self...get off on pink
angora,' I smiled inwardly.

Pinky's face was glazed like an Easter ham, and she had the faraway
stare of a junkie porno chick after a three-day binge on the silver kane,
"More?"

"You want more of Daddy's cunt Pinky?"

"Un huh."

"Or maybe you want more of Daddy's dick?"

"Uh huh," this cunt was lost in dreamland now.

`Let's see how far,' I thought with an evil little smile. I stood above
her and had her beg for my cunt.

"C'mon Pinky...louder, louder."

"Oh Daddy please let me suck your cunt again," she pleads real nice.

I stood above and demanded "Louder, louder," as she squeezed her tits
through the pink angora and begged for my cunt.

Well, what's a daddy dyke to do? I spread my cunt and squatted a bit
and let loose a steamy yellow stream of piss all over her Precious pink
sweater. This drove her over. She grabbed her tits increasingly harder as
my piss soaked her from belly to chin.

"Oh yes Daddy, pee on me," pure music to my ears.

"Open wide Pinky," I commanded as the last few dribbles of my piss
emptied into her mouth, "Eat my cunt slut."

By the time I left Pinky's it was five in the morning. I had to laugh
at the sight on the bed as I left: little Patti Precious sucking on the
piss-wet fabric of her sweater with my dick stuck up her asshole, all
cooing and whimpering herself to sleep.

Chapter 5

So anyway...great fuck right? Eh? An ok fuck, but a whole lot more
that I bargained for. Later that day Pinky was on the other end of the
phone in tears (why did I leave my number...shit). It seems that her
roomies didn't appreciate her dyking-out on them, and they were giving her
the boot.

"Please Denise," she sobbed and begged, "just until I can find a new
place to live."

"Well Pinky, I don't know. See I have a regular girlfriend and all..."

"Please Daddy," she said in the tiniest whisper of a voice.

`Aw fuck,' whimpering little femmes get me every time.

"Yeah, ok. I'll be there in an hour."

By late Sunday night, she was actually learning to suck my cunt pretty
good. Sasha called around eleven that night to let me know she wouldn't be
home until Wednesday.

"So where did you go last night, I tried to call?" Sasha knew better
than to be jealous, she just wanted to know who I fucked.

"Here, listen," I held the phone down near my cunt so Sash could hear
Pinky slurping away.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, half laughing.

"Yeah, who is it?"

"A straight girl I picked-up last night...you'll never believe her
name." I was in fits at this point.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Patti Precious," I laughed as the girl looked up at me when she heard
me speak her name, "Wait, wait, listen to this."

"Pinky, do you want Daddy to piss on you now?" I held the phone so Sasha
could hear the question and the answer.

"Oh yes Daddy. Please piss all over my pretty sweater and into my
mouth," obedient, this one was.

"Did you hear?" I laughed to Sasha.

"Yeah. What's with the `pretty sweater' thing though?"

"Angora. She has an entire chest full of angora sweaters."

"You sure know how to pick `em babe," Sash giggled.

That's the reason Sasha and I got on so well. She is femme, but still
likes my raunchy games. "Hey, why don't you come straight here from the
airport on Wednesday?"

"Ok, sounds like fun. See ya then."

"Cool. Love you hun...I have to go piss on Patti now...bye."

Like I said, I wasn't really out looking for a new femme, but these
things happen. Sweet little Patti Precious is deep in the closet--in her
case being total whitebread suburban--the closet was a large walk-in, and
filled with fuzzy angora and a hot little cunt that just can't get enough
of her Daddy.

-----END PISSING ON PATTI.

And who says suburbia is a cultural wasteland.

2002 Anonymous, Arlington VA USA