My Last Will And Testicle

(Author's note: Go away! Read something else, for crying out loud! I don't even want to be

writing

this, so you can imagine how little I want you to be reading it. Particularly since I'm most probably dead by now, and where's the fun in that? So... do me a favor and just bugger off, why don't you?)

***

I, being of sound mind...

Ha! That's a laugh! Why start now?

... and of a dyspeptic disposition...

Well, when you've lived with me for as long as

I

have, you can't help noticing these little things. The problem is that what you pretend to be is -

ta-da!

- what you become. And by the time I realized

that

, it was too late to change. Next time around, I'll pretend to be... different. Anyway,

... I do hereby revoke all my prior Wills and Codicils...

... and all that other crap. I cannot

think

what possessed me to leave my meager goods and chattels (what the hell's a chattel, anyway? Do I have any?) to the worthless bunch of losers that I named in my last Will: my first

wife

, for God's sake? I must have been drunk, just like I was when I proposed to her.

(Life Lesson Number One: Three things to avoid doing when drunk: driving a car, proposing marriage, and writing your Will. I've done all three, so I can speak from experience.)

She was a good lay, my first wife; I'll give her that. I remember the first time we had sex. Oh, you don't want to hear about it? Well, tough! It's your own fault: I

told

you to bugger off...

She said she was a virgin, but I've always had my doubts. I wasn't; but that was in another country; and besides, the wench is dead. (All right! Plagiarism is just one of my many sins.) Her parents had this beach cottage on the Outer Banks, you see, and in retrospect, I think it was the cottage I was in love with, rather than her. For some reason, I've always found beach cottages

incredibly

sexy, and this one came with a resident little hottie. What more could a red-blooded young me desire? Answer: absolutely nothing!

We'd spent a week there with her parents

('Let me introduce you to my folks!'

): swimming, snorkeling, surfing, sailing - all the s's except sex - getting hornier by the day (me, at least) and trying to masturbate it all away every night (me again; I don't know about her, although I can guess). It wasn't working. Her parents made sure we were never alone together for very long - I guess they weren't quite ready to be grandparents - and by the end of the week she was as hungry for sex as I was... and I was

ready

! My balls were so tender I could scarcely walk.

Anyway, at the end of our last day we all set off home: her parents in one car with all the luggage, and she and I in my old rattletrap, which was mostly held together with string and sealing wax (Whatever became of sealing wax?). We'd only gone about ten miles when she suddenly said:

"I think we're going to break down."

The car was running perfectly (well, at least it was running...), but I already knew that she didn't take kindly to being contradicted, so, 'respecting her intuition' (ha!), I asked:

"What do you think we should do?"

"Turn around. Let's head back to the cottage."

"But your Dad locked it; we won't be able to get in."

"Before we left, I... er... accidentally taped over the lock on the back door, just in case we needed somewhere to sleep... in an emergency. Lucky, huh?"

"Wow! Lucky accident! You must have

known

the car was going to break down."

"I could feel it in my... well, never mind where!"

So t

hat's

where she kept her intuition! I'd never seen her

'well, never mind where'

, but I got the feeling that I just might before the night was over, so I put my foot down and we raced back to the cottage in the gathering dusk, reaching almost forty-five mph at one point.

"Come on! Let's swim by moonlight!"

"But your folks took our swimsuits with them..."

"I'm game if you are. Race you!"

She ran down the sandy beach towards the rising full moon, tossing aside her baseball cap to let her pony-tail swing free, and shedding her T-shirt and bra as she ran. At the water's edge she paused briefly, stepped out of her jeans and slid her skimpy panties down over her tight little ass. She gazed out to sea, absent-mindedly scratching her butt before casually separating her ass cheeks. Then she turned her head, pony-tail swinging in the moonlight, and called to me:

"Come on! What are you doing?"

"Admiring the moons."

"Very funny! Now, get your kit off and join me!"

What

is

it about naked girls standing in the moonlight at the edge of the ocean? Particularly when they ease their ass cheeks apart? All my life I've treasured this image, and others like it - some of them memories, some fantasies - and they never fail to arouse me. So, here's my first legacy:

To the individual girls and women (and once, in a moment of mindless inebriated passion, a most beautiful young man) who occupy them, I leave my mental gallery of favorite erotic images.

Thank you all, both fictional and... er, factional. You meant a lot to me; you still do, in fact, even if only in the movies of my mind.

Don't laugh! These are among my most treasured possessions, and I bet you've got your own gallery, right?

Now, where was I? That's right... standing on the beach in the moonlight, looking at the slim figure of a naked girl with wavelets breaking over her toes. As instructed, I doffed my kit, and together we walked down a moonbeam, hand in hand, into the surf.

(Life Lesson Number Two: Swim naked by moonlight as often as you possibly can!)

We splashed our way out to reach the calmer water beyond the breakers, and then swam side-by-side over the roller-coaster waves as they rolled in to shore. My plan was to get just out of her depth, but not mine, so that she'd have to cling onto me. Clever, eh? And it worked! I had a firm foothold between wave crests, but each passing wave lifted me onto my tip-toes and the larger ones took me completely off the sandy bottom.

"I can't touch! Hold me up!"

"Sure; don't panic... I've got you."

(Oh, so masterful!)

I put my hands round her slender waist and pulled her to me. In response, she put her arms around my neck, spread her legs, and... no, she didn't impale herself on my erect penis, as I'd hoped she would, but instead snuggled herself onto my hip. Still... better than nothing!

She pressed one thigh against my naked ass while the other trapped my hard prick against my belly. I felt her pussy hair rubbing on my hip. Neither of us said anything, but you know that saying about the 800-pound gorilla? Well...

Wave after wave went rolling by to throw itself in frustration against the shore, each one lifting us gently as it passed by in the darkness.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Then... right then, I should have realized: she was illogical, manipulative, controlling, and had scant regard for the English language! I should have simply waded back to shore, picked up my discarded clothes and high-tailed it out of there at forty-five mph, leaving her naked and stranded. It would have been the kindest thing to do.

But right then I was caught up in a sexual adventure that was eclipsing my wildest fantasies, and it was about to get even wilder. So instead, it took twelve years, two kids, a few affairs, endless rows, and God knows how much in lawyers' fees before our divorce was finally final. So, all I said was:

"You just did."

"No, silly... Another one, then."

"Go ahead."

"Do you ever... you know... pee while you're swimming?

"Not in a pool; that's gross. My Mom always used to say:

'No piddling in the paddling puddle!'

But in a river or a lake... sure, if I need to. Why?"

"I need to."

"Go ahead, then. I think the Atlantic can handle it. Anyway, why did you ask me? I'd never have known."

"I thought maybe you'd..."

"What?"

"Oh, God... Would you... like to feel me while I do it?"

"What?... With my hand between your legs, you mean?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to..."

"I want to."

And so I did. I reached down between her legs and cupped her furry pussy in my hand, the first time I'd ever touched her there. Almost immediately, I felt a warm tickle in the middle of my palm as she began to empty her bladder into the ocean. At the same time, she grabbed my head with both hands and kissed me fiercely, forcing her tongue deep into my mouth while pushing her naked breasts against my chest.

She'd always been an enthusiastic petting partner - on those rare occasions when we'd been able to snatch anything more than a quick kiss - but now she was showing me her true sexual self: voracious, demanding, self-centered, and - as I was soon to discover - almost insatiable. As I said, she was a good lay, which is to say she liked it now and again. Well... not now and again, but NOW! and AGAIN!... And AGAIN! and AGAIN! and AGAIN!

Which brings me to my second legacy:

To endow, in perpetuity, an Old Jokes Home, where all the old jokes - some of them on life support - can live out their declining years in peace, chuckling at one another, toothless but comfortable, longing to be visited once more by those who still love them.

My Old Jokes Home will include a Hall of Fame, of course, where the cream of the crop will be displayed for all time. You can hang your own favorites there if you like, next to mine:

'They all laughed when I said I wanted to be a stand-up comedian. Well... They're not laughing now!'

Jokes? In a Will? You know, writing this thing is turning out to be a lot more fun than I expected. If you've made it this far, you may as well go on reading. I'll try to stop cursing you. Where was I? Oh, yes: getting peed on...

As the warm stream flowing through my fingers eventually diminished, she broke our kiss and gasped:

"Go on! Stick your finger in me! DO it!"

"Like this, you mean?"

"YES! Deeper! Now fuck me with it! Make me come!"

It didn't take long. As wave after rolling wave lifted us together in the moonlight, she grabbed my rock-hard penis for extra leverage, dug her teeth into my neck, and bucked on the finger that I was holding deep in her warm vagina. Seconds later, my throbbing prick shot its load of semen into the Gulf Stream, to join that great American ejaculate that bathes Northern Europe with its warm fecundity. And almost simultaneously, she came with a scream that drowned out the sound of the surf breaking on the distant shore.

"You all right, Miss?"

came a shout out of the darkness, from some stranger enjoying his evening stroll along the beach

.

"Mmm... Never better, thank you!"

she replied, holding my hand tightly to her cunt so that I couldn't withdraw my finger.

"Tide's rising!"

he warned.

'It's just risen',

I thought to myself.

"Thank you!"

I shouted into the darkness, mostly to let him know she wasn't alone.

"That was lovely,"

she said.

"Let's go to the cottage and see if there's anything to drink."

We walked naked up the beach, retrieved our sandy clothes, and snuck into the cottage by the back door. Her Dad had turned off the power so we lit a candle and stood looking at one another in the flickering light, watching the shadows dance across our naked bodies. To my surprise, I felt my prick begin to stiffen again as - for the first time - I gazed at her full breasts with their hard, protruding nipples; her flat pale belly above her triangle of dark curly pubic hair; and her long lovely legs. Had I really just had my hand in between them? Already it felt like a dream.

She found a corkscrew while I picked out a bottle of her father's wine: not one of his best - he'd notice that - but one that earlier in the week he'd called

'A naïve domestic burgundy without any breeding, but I think you'll be amused by its presumption'.

(Evidently I wasn't the only plagiarist around.) We raised our glasses, locked eyes, and toasted:

"To breakdowns!"

"To breakdowns."

"Hmm... Not bad for a naïve domestic burgundy,"

I said.

"Are you amused by its presumption?"

She giggled, leant towards me, and put her cheek against mine:

"Would you like to have it in with me?"

she whispered in my ear. I was to learn that, when aroused, she had a repertoire of crude phrases that would make a sailor blush.

"You need to ask?"

"Guess not; I can see you're almost ready again. Do you have a rubber?"

"As it happens, I do."

(Life Lesson Number Three: Be prepared!)

Which brings me to my next legacy...

To the corner drugstore from which I stole a packet of condoms seventy-odd years ago (being too embarrassed to pay for them), I leave $2 - no, make that $20, with inflation - to cover the debt. Seventy years late, maybe, but that's one less thing on my conscience. In fact - what the hell! - I leave $200 so that a new generation of mortally shy and self-conscious teenagers can shoplift condoms whenever they need them.

"How many do you have?"

"How many? Five. Why?"

"We'll keep two for the morning, which means you can fuck me three times tonight - okay? Let's do it on my parents' bed! I want to try

everything!

What d'you say?"

To myself I said:

'This is a virgin? I don't think so!'

But in my eagerness to fuck her, I buried the thought. In her parents' bedroom she pushed me back onto the bed and stood over me, holding the candle and looking down.

"Come on! Give me the guided tour. I've never seen a naked guy up close before. Show me what you've got."

"We could make it mutual, you know."

"How so?"

"Put the candle on the nightstand and come down here. Now, kneel over me - no, the other way around; over my face. How's that?"

"God, I feel so exposed! What can you see?"

"Everything."

"Tell me!"

"Well, your bush..."

"Yes! Tell me about my bush!"

"... is just inches from my face, and I bet if I stuck out my tongue I could lick your pretty pubic curls. Mmm, yes... I thought so! And look! There's your clitoris, just peeking out from between your labia."

"Oh, aren't we the technical one! What is this: Anatomy 101? That's my clit between my pussy lips to you. You can lick

them

too, if you like. And what am I looking at here?"

"That's my erect penis, or my dickcockprick, to you."

"Hello, dickcockprick! How do you taste? Mmm... Salty!"

"Oh, do that again!"

"What... this?"

"Christ-on-a-crutch! That feels good!"

"It's so big! Does the whole thing go inside me? Dick

and

cock

and

prick?"

"I sincerely hope so; the whole nine yards."

"In your dreams! Divided by fifty, maybe."

She was always quick with numbers, which hurt when it came to the divorce. My mind clicked into high gear:

'Let me see... six nines are something-or-other... or should that be nine sixes? And what was it I was trying to calculate again?'

I'd have to work it out later.

"We'll see when the time comes."

"Bugger the time; just make sure that

I

come, okay? Now, tell me what else you're looking at while I suck on you again."

"Your pussy lips are pink and swollen and protruding from their outer sheath, like the petals of a flower bud glistening with dew-drops on a spring morning."

"Oh, poetic! Tell me more!"

"And if I part your moist inner lips with my fingertip... like this, I bet I'll see the opening to your vagina... yes! There it is: that little dark tunnel that leads to heaven..."

"... waiting patiently for your tongue to follow your finger - DO it!"

As she plunged her mouth back down over my prick, she sat back on my face, leaving me little alternative but to slide my tongue as far as I could into her gaping cunt. I will never forget her smell: 'indescribable' sums it up pretty well, don't you think? Well, maybe not! Put it this way: since that day I've never been able to eat hummus without feeling that little prick at the end of my... er, prick that presages arousal. Not garlic hummus, of course. Nor any of those other new 'flavor enhanced' hummuses; just the plain, old, basic, earthy, infinitely sexy variety. This was my first taste, and I lapped it up like it was the Last Supper.

"Deeper, go deeper!"

"Mmph... That's all the tongue I've got!"

"Then pass me a rubber; I need your dickcockprick in me! How do I put this thing on you?"

"Don't you remember Sex Ed. class? Unroll it... Imagine I'm a banana."

"But you're not yellow and bent; you're pink and straight. Will it still work?"

"Shall I do it?"

"Let's do it together. How's that? No... Stay lying on your back. I'm in charge here and we're doing this my way. Now, let's see how much of your nine yards I can take. And don't you dare come before I do, okay?"

She turned around, straddling my hips, then closed her eyes and slowly sank onto my outstretched prick. No resistance. A faraway smile spread over her face as she slid all the way down on me: down, down, down until I felt her tight little ass touch my balls. Without difficulty, she took the whole nine yards. Then with one hand she began to pinch her nipples, while the other hand went in search of her clit.

I watched entranced as this sex-hungry young lady writhed on my rod, working her way up first to one orgasm... and then to another, her full breasts swaying in the candlelight and her sweat-drenched body glistening as she bucked: eyes closed, head thrown back, completely focused on the symphony of feelings echoing through her body.

After a while, to my surprise, she slumped forward on my chest and neatly rolled herself under me, her hands clasped to my butt to keep me buried deep inside her. She said:

"Okay, now you can fuck me! Go ahead... nail me to my parents' bed! Screw me just like Dad... like Dad screws my Mom, I mean. Work your long dickcockprick in and out of me! And make it good; I've come five times already. Knock me for six!"

So - as requested - I knocked her for six, driving my rigid prick up between her open legs, again and again. And once more she sank her teeth into my neck, coming with the ferocity of a wild animal. Seconds later I ejaculated into her, grunting with passion and filling the first condom with my semen. Gasping for breath, we drifted together back to earth, each of us feeling the walls of her vagina milking my penis dry as it throbbed its dying heart out deep inside her body.

Random thoughts bounced around in my head, as they often do just after I've come. I remember thinking:

'Maybe I can become a porn star! But what on earth would I do on

'Take Your Daughter to Work Day'?

'

I'll spare you the details of the other four times, but at some point in that long and memorable night, as we finished off another bottle of naïve domestic burgundy, I asked:

"Marry me?"

"Okay,"

she said.

Bad mistake...

***

Hey! I thought this was supposed to be a Will. It started out that way, at least, but somewhere I seem to have lost the plot. Maybe I should publish it instead? Nah!... Who'd want to read this?