Pussy Charming Pt 08

What you've missed: I woke up from a coma after a motor cycle crash, to find that my penis could talk, and more than that, when it wanted, it could take control of the rest of me. It was able to sing in a way which it called 'pussy charming' in such a way as to entice nearby females to come and shag me, which it demonstrated for me with a 50 something overweight nurse called Elaine.

After my pussy charming cock continued to provide me with mature, BBW pussy, I started to call it Marlon, because when it was soft it reminded me of Marlon Jackson from the Jackson 5. A nasty encounter with Doris the cleaning lady convinced me that I'd been going wrong lusting after skinny young girls in the past. My recovery continued well, until during an evening session with Elaine the Nurse I asked her whether I'd be able to go home soon. She informed me that first I needed to speak to Dr. McGowan. Elaine had overheard me talking to Marlon several times, and was worried that I was still suffering from my head trauma. She had arranged for me to see Dr. McGowan - the psychiatrist!

Marlon promised me that he wouldn't make me do or say anything bad in front of Dr. McGowan, so that she wouldn't sign my release papers, but I wasn't sure whether I could trust him or not. In the meantime we had a visit from Geraldine the vicar, and Marlon revealed that assholes are good for shagging, but not so good for having a conversation with.

In our meeting with Dr. Julia McGowan she revealed that she knew all about my sexual adventures since awakening from my coma. I came clean, as it were, and told her all about Marlon. She, in turn, revealed that she had her own talking pussy, a German speaking Katherine Hepburn lookalike. I persuaded Julia to discharge me, if you'll pardon the pun, so that Marlon could give her Katherine exactly what she wanted, in the course of which Marlon made me give her such a licking that it severed the connection between Julia and her talking pussy, and returned her to 'normal'. I began to worry what would happen to me if I was ever 'cured'.

Returning to my flat after so many weeks in hospital, I found that my landlady, Mrs. Golightly had let it to a small, seemingly crazy young woman called Cassie Smith, who attacked me with mace. When we called Mrs. Golightly to come and sort it all out for us, I begged Marlon to charm her pussy so that she would give me back my flat. To my surprise Marlon refused, and explained that he couldn't, because both Mrs. Golightly and Cassie Smith were ladies who like ladies. On my urging Marlon improvised a new pussy charming song, which brought the two of them together, and after this they offered me the chance to move back in as Ms. Smith's flatmate.

Surprisingly, Cassie and I started to get on pretty well. So much so that when she asked me what the deal was with me talking to Marlon all the time, I told her the truth. When she didn't believe me, Marlon revealed a few secrets that her pussy had told him. She didn't speak to me for a couple of days. In the interim, I returned to my parents' house, where, in the course of Marlon giving her a good seeing to, their neighbour Mrs. Goody revealed that they had gone off on a cruise on the same day that I had my accident. When Cassie got over her shock, she asked me to teach her how to talk to her pussy. I didn't think that was possible, but Marlon was only too happy to try to prove me wrong

Cassie proved to be a willing learner, and within a few lessons she was able to hear her pussy well enough to know that it spoke in a French accent, and christen it "Madame Edith". Meanwhile, I returned to Tescos to try to get my old job back. The new manager, Dolores Gusset, seemed sceptical at first, however she fell under the spell of Marlon's siren song. Unfortunately, I'd accidentally switched on the store tannoy, which meant that most of the other ladies over the age of consent in the store had fallen under the spell too. Thus did we unleash what Marlon memorably dubbed 'pussy-mageddon'.

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"Streaky Friday" was the headline in the local paper when they ran the story on the front page the next day. Almost every woman -- customers and staff alike -- in the store simultaneously stripping themselves 'butt nekkid' and demanding Marlon's immediate attention. This was a superstore as well -- in Marlon's memorable words there "Sho' is a helluva lotta pussy on the hoof!" Considering what he'd just done to Dolores, Marlon seemed remarkably enthusiastic about tackling the pussy avalanche in front of us. I tried to confront him with the reality of the situation,

"Marlon, we can't!"

"Correction, asswipe -- you can't! But you don't got no say in the matter. Boy, we is lookin' at a dream come true -- a goddamn pussy tsunami -- and I's going swimming!"

"Go swimming in that, and we'll both drown!"

Marlon's reply was stifled as I fell under the crush of onrushing sex-crazed shoppers. I felt a brawny, hairy arm grab hold of my wrist and drag me out of the scrum. It was Dolores. Like the NFL player she surely must have been in another life, she put her head down, and charged her way out of the office, sending prospective sexual partners flying on both sides, and clearing my way through, out into the warehouse, and the back door, and freedom. As she waved me off, Dolores gave Marlon a playful squeeze, and whispered,

"You passed the interview. Congratulations! You start back on Monday!"

My heart rate didn't return to normal until I was on the bus home, and three quarters of the way back to the flat. Marlon had gone suspiciously quiet. When we were finally alone on the back seat of the bus, I whispered,

"Marlon? Marlon! You still there?"

Nothing. For a moment I wondered whether it might be for the best if Marlon had now sung his last song. Then I thought about banging Dolores on her desk, with Marlon pistoning in and out of her pussy, and me sucking her pumpkin tits dry, and it was obvious that no, it wouldn't be for the best at all. Not for him, and certainly not for me.

"Marlon!" This time I didn't care who heard it.

"I...am.. not... speakin' to you, you mammy-jabbin' party pooper!"

Ah, abuse! He was feeling better, then.

By the time I got in, Cassie was in the kitchen, and the TV was on in the lounge. It was in the middle of a BBC news report -- from the very store that I'd escaped from only about an hour earlier. "-- and the witnesses all tell a similar story, that about an hour ago, in this ordinary suburban supermarket, suddenly, with no warning, a huge number of female shoppers and staff suddenly removed all of their clothes, and stormed the manager's office. " The scene cut to the outside of the store, where the camera focused on a middle aged lady, wrapped in an oversized police overcoat, with her hair in curlers underneath a light pink scarf, captioned 'Eyewitness - Mrs. Gwyneth Pewbs'. Gwyneth Pewbs began to speak. " Well, we was all mindin' our own business, shopping. I'd only come in for a French stick and a cucumber, and then I came over all funny, like. Suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to take off all of me clothes, and jump on top of the next man I saw and ravish him. Well, that's not normal, is it? I mean, that hasn't happened to me in Tescos for weeks."

By now, Cassie had re-entered the lounge, carrying a plate of stuffed crust pizza.

"Mmm, " she said, her mouth half full, as she gestured towards the tv with a fork, " Sounds like Marlon's handiwork." Then she looked at the shocked and guilty expression on my face. "Oh my God -- it WAS you and Marlon, wasn't it!"

"It was an accident!" I spluttered, and proceeded to tell the whole story about my accident with the tannoy. Cassie sat there when I finished, shaking her head, half in shame, yet half in admiration. Then she rose from the sofa, and knelt down so that her mouth was about a foot away from my crotch.

"Marlon," she began, "I know that I can't hear you, but I have to have a serious talk with you. You have to remember this - with great power, comes great responsibility!" She then collapsed back on the sofa, and then started saying "Oww -- stop that, it tickles!" I looked at her askance, and she spluttered.

"Madame Edith can't stop laughing." by way of explanation.

If there was ever any doubt that I was living a charmed life, then the rest of the news report confirmed it. Apparently the police had been summoned by a shocked customer, immune to Marlon for whatever reason, and they'd arrived mob handed just as I was escaping through the back. They had taken away 168 naked ladies, 10 male members of staff who'd decided not to look a gift pussy in the mouth, as it were, and a dozen male customers who'd public-spiritedly stripped for action to help them out. All 190 of them were looking potentially at a charge of indecent exposure at the very least.

The way events transpired, though, the sheer numbers involved, and the fact that so many of the individuals were clearly upstanding members of the community, should you excuse the pun, worked in their favour. Nobody received more than a caution, and although there were rumours that some russian spy had been road testing a mass mind control device on Tesco's in Hoxton, the incident, and the story of the incident, gradually died the death.

While the story was gradually fading into the background, though, I began to think more and more about what Cassie had said to Marlon about power and responsibility. Alright, she'd stolen it from the Spider-man movies, but still. Not that Marlon took it that seriously. The only effect that I could see was that he made up a new song to the tune of the spider-man theme,

"Spider-Dick, spider-dick, gets stuck in when their ass is thick

Fucks 'em all, any size

Leaves his spider-cum on their thighs!"

And so on, puerile, witty little fuck-stick that he was, and he was singing it for days, then laughing his little mushroom head off. I thought seriously about what she'd said, though. Cassie hadn't been joking about it. She had something serious in mind, and that intrigued me because she was a lot smarter than me.

Not that I had a lot of time to sit and talk to her about it. Since Monday, I'd been doing overtime in Tescos every day. OK, I'd been doing Dolores for a lot of that time as well, but we'd both agreed that her desk was out of bounds for copulation. With other managers, other ladies, this might have cramped their style somewhat. Not Dolores. On entering the store on the Monday morning her first actions were to throw full cartons around in the warehouse, with the power and skill of a female hammer thrower until she had built a protective 'fuck fort' as she called it. Well, she was an educated lady with an extensive vocabulary, after all. Her favourite words, mind you, all seemed to end with -- er. Faster -- harder -- longer -- a bit like the motto of the porno Olympics, come to think of it.

It was hard not to worship her tits, mind you. Her cleavage stretched like a grand canyon. I love women whose cleavage starts high up their chest, and Dolores' started from just below her neck. Lactating as she was, her areolas and nipples were a deep crimson, and always looked to me as if they were begging to be kissed, and tweaked, and then sucked dry. It was as much as I could do not to fuck her on the shop floor, but if that woman got anywhere close to the warehouse, then as far as I was concerned, she was fair game. We managed a quick grope at morning tea break, but it was lunchtime before I could get to the main course. Alright, it might have been a few minutes early, but the moment that I noticed a damp patch on her blouse I grabbed her hand, and told her I needed urgently to show her something in the warehouse. It was bloody urgent too. If I didn't get to ravish her now, then Marlon was going to explode.

There wasn't a great deal of room in Dolores' hastily constructed fuck fort, but there was enough. We crawled through the access tunnel she had cunningly built from cereal boxes, then stood up.

"Well, Mr. Hardcastle? What do you want?"

"Lunch!" I grabbed her blouse, and pulled it open, accidentally popping two buttons as I did so. I was rougher than I usually am, but the sight of Dolores' well filled powder pink boulder holder drove me almost mad with lust, and I grabbed the bottom of the cups and lifted, freeing the milk bar, and judging by the drips of milk oozing from the tips of her nipples, this was not a moment too soon. I latched onto her right breast, and reached around to snap her bra, which I released, and let fall to the ground in seeming slow motion, landing with a wet thud on the cardboard box carpet she had thoughtfully lain out.

"Don't I get lunch as well?" gasped Dolores, already on the brink of a breast sucking orgasm. I knew what she meant and so did Marlon, and if the little sod had teeth he would have chewed his way out of my pants and slacks. Dolores took care of that though, and freed and then engulfed him in one fluid motion. I don't know what it was about her, or her technique, but Marlon never last long when she dined out on him.

"MANAGER TO TILL ONE FOR CUSTOMER QUERY!" blasted over the tannoy.

Shit!

This was always happening. Dolores hastily dropped a cum coated Marlon, stuffed her fun bags back into her bra, put on her blouse and then buttoned up her jacket so as to give her appearance at least the semblance of decency. Then she was gone.

"I swear, I am going to rip out that speaker, and jam it up somebody's asshole sideways!" fumed Marlon. I knew how he felt.

Still, although we were often interrupted, we were still getting enough from Dolores to keep my head in a spin for most of the week, and I didn't really give another thought to what Cassie had said until the start of the weekend. Neither Dolores nor I had said one word to the other about seeing each other outside of work hours. Not that we'd had much time, mind you. Between actually working on the shop floor, being summoned by the tannoy, and sneaking quick but intense fucks when it was unfair to expect her to say much more than "FUUUCCCKKKK!" , "YYEEEEESSSS!" , "NOT IN THERE!" and "OH ALRIGHT, IN THERE THEN!", the opportunity for a discussion about where this relationship might go just hadn't arisen. So come Sunday morning, my head had cleared enough for me to walk into the lounge downstairs, then walk back out again since Cassie and Mrs. Golightly were engaged in a prolonged session of licking each other out on the leather couch. I waited for an hour or two, then brought Mrs. Golightly her obligatory post-coital cup of minty mouthwash, waved her goodbye, and then sat down for a heart to heart with Cassie. She was in a mishchievous mood.

"Would you like to know what Mrs. Golightly's pussy tastes like?" she asked.

"Sure, why not?"

She stuck her tongue down my throat, then said, "Just like that." , then unleashed a loud curry fart, and laughed. Like I said, she was a sophisticated girl, was Cassie.

"Very funny. And very fishy, for that matter. But can we be serious for a moment? I need to ask you a question."

"Fire away.. . I just did." When you got right down to it, she was all class, was Cassie.

" When you said to Marlon that time, that with great power comes great responsibility, you weren't just having a laugh, were you?"

Cassie gave me a funny look.

"What do you mean?"

" I mean, you've got an idea, haven't you? About how we can use Marlon's power -- or Madame Edith, for that matter." Cassie hurriedly put a finger to her lips,

"Shhh!" she whispered, "I haven't discussed it with her yet!"

"Discussed what?" She sighed,

"Well, you know that I haven't had a lot of success job hunting recently? Hmm? Well, I was thinking about starting my own business."

"Great idea!" I enthused. "What sort of business were you thinking of?"

"Pussy yoga."

"Pussy yoga. Pussy yoga. Let me get this straight, you just said, pussy yoga, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's right. Pussy yoga."

"What in the name of all that's genital is pussy yoga when it's at home?" Cassie looked at me like I was stupid.

" Du-Huh! It's yoga for pussies! A holistic programme of mental and physical exercise and relaxation, aimed at putting women of all ages in touch with their vaginas."

"Someone say sumpin' about touchin' pussy?!" shouted Marlon, instantly jerking to attention.

"Oui, Madam Edith, tu as dit qu'il allait dit ca!" Cassie laughed, then said "I said that Madame Edith knew that Marlon was going to say whatever he just said. Madame Edith finds it easier to speak in French, and she was such a good girl with Mrs. Golightly earlier she earned it. Quite impressed with myself, since I dropped the subject when I picked me options at school. I spose that's Madame's doing."

"With great power comes great responsibility."

Cassie nodded, "Exactly! You realise what you've done, you and Marlon, don't you Jamie? You've opened my eyes -- and my ears -- to the power of pussy. "

" I thought you'd discovered that on your prom night." I added, somewhat facetiously.

"But seriously?"

"But seriously Cassie, of course I know where you're cumming -- er -- coming from. And I can see where this sort of thing might catch on in, well, west coast America perhaps. But can you honestly see them going for it in Dalston? I think the repressed matrons in your target group would laugh their socks off at the idea."

"No they won't." Cassie shook her head vigourously,"They won't when they see what I can guarantee them on this course."

"What, better orgasms?"

"Listen Jamie, for the group I'm aiming at, ANY orgasms will be better than what they're getting. But yes, that sort of thing."

"Just how are you proposing to meet that guarantee then?"

"Ah, now that's where Marlon, and Madame Edith come in."

"How?"

Cassie leant down so that she was mouth level with my crotch.

"Tell me -- or tell Jamie -- Marlon, have you ever considered a career in education?"