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Bert, Chapter Two
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
chpt2.txt (of bert)
Chapter Two
Bert should have been a broken field runner. He adeptly wiggled
his way through the crowded cafeteria with his food laden tray and
never spilled a drop of his milk or a blob of the gooey chocolate
pudding. He found an empty chair next to his friend, Cruncher
Hiatt, and sat down.
"Hi Crunch. How's it going?"
"Not so bad, man. In fact, real good. Me and Laura went out after
the game Saturday night, you know? That chick is really hot in bed,
let me tell you." Cruncher smirked and continued eating.
Bert sighed. He wished he could be as suave as Cruncher. But then
he didn't yet have the experience with girls that his friend did.
And, Bert had to admit, there was a certain power aura around a guy
who could break through a defensive line and toss the quarterback
around like a sack of brass doorknobs. That game Saturday had been
a big one for Cruncher. Several college recruiters had been
watching, and he had really shined. He had thrown the Slaten High
quarterback for a total loss of almost sixty yards.
And Bert imagined that Laura had been impressed enough to let
Cruncher score with her, too.
"Yeah, some game Crunch. And Laura is a hell of a sexy broad,
too. Say you know all about things. What's the best approach to use
on Carole?"
Cruncher looked like he was deep in thought as his brow furrowed.
He finally said, "Carole? The blonde cheerleader? Man, Bert, I'd
say you could do better than waste your time there. She's a real
bitch. Complete iceberg. Maybe even frigid. Bet she's got ice cubes
stuuffed up her cunt. Take my advice and lay off her. You'd just be
missing out some- place else."
Bert continued eating his lunch in silence. He was worried.
Cruncher knew what he was talking about when it came to two
subjects, football and women. If the great make-out artist said to
forget Carole, maybe he should. Bert knew that if a football hero,
a potential All-American offensive lineman and a really cool guy
like Hiatt couldn't give any advice on how to make it with a chick,
it might be impossible.
"You really think it's no good, Crunch?" Bert hoped there might
be some small ray of encouragement shining through the clouds of
dispair.
"No hope at all, Bert. Believe me, lay off her. Got to get to
class. See you later." The big tackle stood and weaved through the
crowd, his crimson and white letter jacket finally disappearing
through the cafeteria doorway.
Bert lost his appetite, but he continued to eat anyway. Even if
he didn't feel like it, he should have some food in his stomach. He
had to work late tonight finishing the photo layouts for the paper.
It was going to be a special edition, and he had some unique ideas
to better illustrate the school's sports program.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of inconsequential events,
and Bert was glad when the final class of the day ended. He hurried
to the journalism room and saw Mr. Woodward just leaving.
The journalism teacher looked up from stuffing his brief- case
with a stack of papers to be graded and greeted his student.
"Hello, Bert. Are you going to work tonight on that special layout
for the sports edition tomorrow?"
When Bert told him that he was, the teacher continued, "Good. But
remember that the entire thing has to be at the printer's shop
before midnight so he can burn the plates and get it run. I'll see
you tomorrow."
"Okay, Mr Woodward. Have a nice evening."
"I will, Bert, I will. Jim Elliot and I are going over to Jeff
Morehead's house for a little poker game. But don't spread it
around. We school types have to keep that goodie-goodie facade at
all costs. We're not supposed to smoke or drink or gamble or fuck.
Or be human, if the school board had their way. 'Night!" With that,
the man was off.
Bert sighed and went in the darkroom glued onto the back of the
classroom. He began setting up his developing pans and mixing the
Dektol and a fresh batch of stop bath. Bert critically surveyed the
fixer solution and decided that he could filter out some of the
silver sediment at the bottom and use the fluid again, for one more
batch of prints, at least. The youthful photographer checked out
his enlarger and made sure he had the negatives he needed. Most
were of the football team, a few were of the cheerleaders. Bert
longingly eyed a particularly good shot of Carole leaping into the
air, legs spread wide and her head thrown back in a wild cheer.
Bert sat on the large counter for several minutes looking at the
negative and thinking what it would be like to get into Carole's
pants.
He almost jumped when a low, sultry voice demanded, "What the
hell are you doing here?"
He turned frightened eyes to the doorway and saw Alana Montray,
the editor of the newspaper. Bert sighed in relief. He had thought
it was a guard or someone come to toss him out. He hadn't bothered
to get a pass from Woodward and he couldn't prove he hadn't broken
in to steal something.
"Hi, Alana. I'm just getting ready to do some layout work for the
sport section tomorrow. What are you doing here?" Bert eyed the
black chick for the first time. Somehow, he had been more of a
rabbit than a man before he had fucked Robin. Now he was more
outgoing, more positive in his approach to women. And Alana could
be described as worthy of an approach.
The girl was alluring, svelt, trim. Her frizzy Afro hairdo
accentuated the slender-boned face, the deep brown skin the color
of mocha. And her body! Bert wondered how he could have ever failed
to notice that before.
She had moderately large tits, but the tiny waste and decidedly
feminine hips stretched her doubleknit pantsuit outfit to the
limits of endurance. If she'd had a rip in the garment, Bert
thought she'd have to mend it with a can of spray paint. The
shocking pink outfit clung to her like a second skin. And anew,
Bert wondered how he could have missed do much. Perhaps her
constant nearness had made him overlook her.
But he certainly couldn't overlook her now. He could see the tiny
mushrooms that were her nipples prodding against the fabric of her
blouse. Bert guessed there must be a jacket to the outfit
somewhere, but it had been cast aside to reveal the almost
see-through lacy white blouse.
As Alana leaned against the doorjamb and crossed one leg in front
of the other, she said, "I don't know what it is with you, Bert.
Lately you seem so...different, I guess. Something happen to your
head?"
His head? Hardly!
"You know how it is, Alana. When you're hot, you're hot. And this
seems like a good time for me. Things have been clicking. But don't
stand there. Come on in. You said you wanted to see how we
photographers worked."
Alana smiled, ivory teeth flashing and contrasting with her dark
skin. "Man, you have changed!" She slowly pulled the door shut and
plunged the room into total darkness.
Bert knew the layout of the darkroom as well as his own bedroom.
He took three rapid steps toward Alana and reached out, his hand
finding a large, marshmallowy tit. When she squealed, Bert said,
"Oh, sorry. The sudden darkness made me lose my balance."
"Like hell it did. When I said you'd change, I was really
understating it a lot, wasn't I?" Bert felt the editor move closer
to him, reach out and grasp his other hand. She pulled it up to her
neglected tit and quietly said, "There is two of them, you know..."
Bert didn't need any more urging. His mouth descended with
radar-like accuracy and found the black girl's to stifle any
further comment with a long, deep kiss. As his tongue penetrated
the vastness of herr oral cavern, Alana groaned and her arms
encircled bert, pulling him closer.
Their bodies locked together, they continued a long soul kiss.
Bert didn't ever want to stop. He relished the feel of her cool
skin against his body, the feel of her hands roaming aimlessly
across his back. His hands became cramped, but he was loathe to
give up his twin handfuls of titflesh. Alana was a really stacked,
hot chick, and he didn't want to let her escape.
Finally, they had to break apart in order to catch their breath.
Alana said in her husky, sultry voice, "Man, have you changed!"
"For the better?" Bert asked, as his now numble fingers began
unfastening the buttons on Alana's fragile blouse. He felt the girl
returning the favor and, soon, they were both naked to the waist.
He gripped the girl to him again, this time powerfully crushing her
body against his. The kiss was electric. Scintillatiing current
flowed magnically between them. He felt the sharp points of her
compressed tits poking into his chest. As the girl's passion
mounted, her nipples became hareder and tried to spear holes in the
photographer's chest.
Bert allowed one hand to wander down inside the waist band of his
editor's slacks, and he grasped a handful of black ass. Slowly,
methodically, he began massaging and kneading the globe of flesh as
he pulled her ever so closer to him. He felt the girl's mound grind
up against his hardon, then eventually begin to rotate around and
around testing his self-control to the utmost. With Alana running
a- gainst the sensitive underside, it took all of his concen-
tration to keep from ejaculating.
But he was learning. He kept his attention focused on her lucious
mouth, her lust-hardened nipples gouging into his smooth chest, the
handful of asscheek he was playing with. He tried to ignore the
little campfire in his groin that was threatening to leap out into
a full fledged forest fire at any moment.
Alana deserted his mouth to move her agile, flickering tongue to
his ear. Bert felt the hot, quick breath on his earlobe, thrilled
to the sensation of the snake-quick thrusts of her oral digit
plunging into his ear channel. When she began to nibble and gnaw
lightly on his ear, Bert muttered, "I need you, Alana. I want you
more than I have anyone else before."
"No, Bert, no... I don't want to get pregnant."
While she was making her protestations, Bert was orally working
on her ears. It was quickly apparent this was an extremely
erogenous zone for her. The black editor could barely gasp out her
incoherent protests when Bert huskily whispered, "I can take you in
the rear. Bend over and let me get those fancy pants off you!"
Alana was beyond being able to control her body's needs and
desires. She allowed Bert to slowly strip her in the darkroom. All
the time he was fumbling with the zippers and snaps, he kissed her
trim, slightly rounded belly. When his tongue found the deep
depression of her navel, he slowly, languorously lapped and licked
around it, leaving a trail of saliva that could have glistened had
their activities been spotlighted.
Alana lifted her left foot, then her right, and slipped free of
her clothing to stand totally naked in front of Bert. His hands and
tongue knew she was unclothed; he wanted to see her in full naked,
gleaming blackd glory. He reached up and turned on the safelight
with a #10 Kodak filter in it. The room was immediately cast in the
dim yellow-orange light, and Bert could see Alana for the first
time.
Really see her for the first time. The pale orange light
highlighted her black skin and made her appear even more exotic to
him. The very tips of her jugs were firm, hard, erect and
protruding in obvious lust. Bert silently thrilled knowing it was
lust for him that had brought the sexy black girl to this agitated
state. Her smooth flanks dully reflected the light and the saliva
trail he had left across her belly took on an almost phosphorescent
quality.
"Okay, honky studman, now you get those pants of yours off!"
Alana's facile hands soon stripped Bert of his trousers, and they
both stood naked and revealed in the odd light cast by the filtered
incandescent bulb.
Bert looked down and saw his swollen manhood jerking and
twitching in reaction to the foreplay he and Alana had been avidly
engaged in. Instead of a flesh-pink with red overtones, his cock
looked like an orange popsicle. When he mentioned this to Alana,
she laughed a throaty laugh and immediately descended.
"Ummmm, I love orange popsicles!" Her mouth was soon stuffed with
Bert's cock which she sampled with loud, lewd slurping noises. Bert
felt Alana's saliva trickle down his length and mingle with the
hair of the little sac suspended under his prodigious cock. The
sac, containing his precious balls, slowly contracted and collapsed
into a tight, hard sphere as Alana gently massaged and toyed with
it. The entire time, her mouth slowly accepted and rejected Bert's
steely rod.
Her mouth puckered into a tiny "O" form and started at the
purple-orange head of his cock, and she sucked her way down. Bert
felt as if she were drawing his entire gut through the end of his
prick. In reality, she was agonizingly, excruciatingly sucking his
length into her mouth, her tongue swirling and spiraling around
laving every square millimeter of manmeat she found. Soon, he felt
her lips brush against his pubic hair. She had swallowed his entire
sex-spire.
When she began to retreat, her teeth lightly scored his captive
organ, and her tongue pushed hard against his tiny pinprick hole at
the end of his rod. To counter this, she sucked for all she was
worth. His hands roamed through the forest of wiry Afro, guiding
her head as she gave head.
Bert groaned, "Stop! Stop, Alana!"
Puzzled, the black girl looked up. Bert rapidly explained, "I'm
going to lose it in a minute if you keep it up! You are too damn
good! And I want to be in you when I blow off. So get that pert
black rear end of yours up here!"
He pulled her to her feet and gave a swat to the firm ass that
passed near his hands. He quickly bent Alana over the counter so
that her rump would be enticingly presented for his entry. He
briefly, hesitated, dipped his finger into her flowing cunt, then
traced his way back into the hot, humid crease between her
demiglobes of flesh. His lubricated finger rapidly goaded the
tight, stingy anal muscle to relax, and he wiggled his finger
inside Alana a time or two, enjoying the way she twitched and
squealed.
The feeling of power was heightened when he spread her legs and
moved into position behind her. The glans of his long prod touched
the prepared asshole, then plunged in with ferocious speed. Alana
screamed in agony as she was filled with a huge iron bar of solid
manmeat.
Bert felt as if he had thrust his tool into a blast furnace. For
a few minutes, he couldn't move; he just stood there, his hands
spreading her ass cheeks and his cock buried balls deep up Alana's
rectum. He was in the tightest fitting channel he could ever have
imagined, tight and searing hot. He realized he should have
gradually entered the girl's rear door, but it was too late now. He
was already inside!
Alana felt the tortured inner membranes slowly stretch and expand
to accomodate the huge male invader. As soon as the rectal channel
had resigned itself to the added masculine visitor in the hot,
velvet depths, it began to relax. Alana sighed with relief and
began to enjoy the fullness of Bert in her. She could sense the
slow pulsing of his cock as it jerked and danced in cadence with
his heartbeat. She even imagined her sensitive inner tissues could
detect the giant vein on top of his cock.
Bert gazed down at the girl's back sprawled on the table top in
front of him. His hands abandoned their posts, no longer needed,
and began exploring her smooth, silky back. She sighed and moaned
constantly as he traced out each and every vertebra in her spine.
Leaning forward, he began massaging her tensed shoulder muscles. He
lovingly said, "Relax, the best is yet to come!"
His words, as well as his powerful hands soothing her back and
shoulder muscles, had the desired effect. He could almost feel the
tenseness flow, like water through a seive, from his beautiful
editor.
As soon as Bert felt the shuddery little moans, he slowly pulled
out of her anal canal. Slow, rhythmic pistoning pushed him in and
out, and he felt the girl tense again as he slipped and slid to and
fro in her body. But this time, it was a different tenseness. The
first had been muscular due to fright, fear of the unknown.
This was a muscular tension, also, but far finer. This was
generated by building sexual desires, needs, the powerful urge to
have Bert wildly fuck her ass. Bert felt the stirrings in his loins
as gentle feather-light touches, almost tickling. As the frequency
and depth of penetration up Alana's carbon black posterior
increased, the sensation began to resemble an itch that could not
be scratched, an urgent need that was doomed to be unfilfilled.
Faster and faster, he pistoned into her hot, compressed anus and
the feeling in him grew to larger and larger proportions resembling
that of having his genitals baked in a high temperature oven. Soon
he began to lose all conscious control of his body. His hips began
to thrust wildly all by themselves, his brain was short circuited
by runaway passion and lust for his lovely, willing black partner
in this assfucking.
Bert abandoned himself totally to the prickly feeling in his
groin. The flames of lust leaped and lapped up and down the length
of his tool until his belly caught fire. The liquid, surging napalm
of lust, exploded in his body and burned throughout his universe.
It spread in an ever widening circle, centered in his balls, until
finally his entire torso was engulfed. His brain was clouded and,
as orgasm smashed through his mind he jetted tons of his fiery jism
up Alana's ass.
Bert rocked and bucked and wantonly ground his crotch against the
needy black rear. When Alana felt Bert climax, he was buried full
length in her. She had been passionately moaning and biting her
lower lip to keep from screaming out her desires for him.
As orgasm seized her body and blanketed out the world ex- cept
for the flaming lance buried in her butt, she abandon- ed all
attempt to restrain her cries. She screamed loud and long and felt
the surging flood of orgasm crash through her body and impact in
her head. A brillant fireworks display ignited in her brain, and
she was completely lost int the vastness of her climaxing body.
The winds of orgasm soon blew away, and the two were exhausted,
satiated. Bert collapsed forward onto Alana and in a few minutes
felt his cock deflate like a gush of his creamy come.
Alana gasped out, "You are a real stud, Bert! I've never had it
up the ass before, but it was soooo good!" Her voice trailed off
dreamily.
"I have a confession to make, Alana. I've never fucked anyone in
the ass before." He sounded almost contrite, apologizing.
"Hell, man, you can fuck my ass amy time you want! Now will you
kindly get off me? In case you'd forgotten, we're supposed to be
working."
"Working? Working? That what we are supposed to be doing? I guess
I forgot when this black chick came in and wiggled her gorgeous ass
at me."
Alana chuckled as she said, "You honkies always did go for a
piece of ass!"
"Shut up, bitch, or I just might take the whole thing instead of
a piece!"
"Promises, promises, promises!" she retorted.
Bert had always wanted to be an explorer searching out
undiscovered lands. That night, with Alana, he discovered new
vistas - and ones which were very close to home.
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