Heather Brown

Door to door wife

CHAPTER ONE

I was hunched over the toilet letting the sperm dribble from my just-fucked cunt when I first saw the ad in the newspaper. Somebody'd been reading it while having a b.m., I guess, and had just left it there.

Considering my circumstances the letters S-E-X understandably caught my attention. It was only natural I would go on reading.

"Wanted," it said, "volunteers with a normal interest and curiosity in the act of love. If you believe, as we do, that sex is more than a mere biological function solely for the purpose of procreation, but still have many questions about its true purpose in life, then you may be interested in working with us. Our non-profit organization desperately needs volunteers to complete a study that will get to the bottom of the human sexual experience for once and for all. The ultimate results of our research will benefit millions of people. Won't you consider helping? You could wind up helping yourself as well as science."

At the bottom there was a phone number to call. Immediately I began to wonder what would happen if I gave into my impulse and just went ahead and did it. After all, the last line in the ad was a reassuring, "No obligation for calling," so what did I have to lose?

"Debbie," Fred's voice from the bedroom abruptly averted my attention from the newspaper, "what are you doing in there?"

"Just practicing a little feminine hygiene," I called back. "You know how I smell like rotten fish if I don't drain out all your juice after we have sex."

"You can do that later," he replied, the irritation in his voice transcending the two rooms and hallway that were separating us. "I'm ready for more action."

"I was afraid of this," I groaned wearily to myself.

"What'd you say?"