Barb's Burger Joint

A Novel by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

Chapter 2 - Uncle Joey's Treasure Trove

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. Everything in it is imaginary and none of it represents any real-life people, events or medical conditions. Regardless of age depicted, all characters in sexual situations are 18+. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your bag, don't read it. If reading this type of material is illegal where you reside due to your age or whatever, don't read it. Do not repost without permission. This story is copyright the author©2015

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Author's note: set in the Comet Seahag Universe.

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So my boss whacking off in her office wasn't a big deal. Barb's arrogant specimen, however,wasa big deal. She made me very curious about women with Seahag Syndrome.

I remembered one of my older uncles, whom I trusted, had drunkenly mentioned dickgirls at one of my family's Fourth of July barbecues when I was younger. The other relatives had shushed him, but he clearly knew something. Mom had conscripted me to mow his lawn that Sunday after church (he was her eldest brother), so I made plans to talk to him.

After the lawn was done and I had stowed his mower back in the garage, he brought out glasses of lemonade. We sipped and chatted, and I brought up the subject. He was happy to talk about it.

Uncle Joey was a Vietnam vet who went to Fort Tecumseth in Kansas for Basic Training back in '64. There were plenty of sausage joints in the surrounding towns, and that where he first encountered them.

He was an old recruit, early thirties, in and out of trouble with the law since he was a teenager. He was one of those guys that New Jersey had in every neighborhood back then, the guy who would sell hot TV's and other junk out the trunk of his car. He wasn't particularly good at it. After yet another bust for trafficking stolen goods, the judge (a family friend) gave him a join-the-army or go-to-prison ultimatum.

He came back from overseas with landmine shrapnel in his hip and a cane he'd have to use the rest of his life. That was why my mother and her sisters had their kids doing chores for him. He was in his late forties now and prematurely gray.

Back in '64, when his buddies from Basic took him to his first sausage joint, it was a revelation. There were no dickgirls in Jersey at all, he said, but out there, they were everywhere. From Pennsylvania to Idaho, every town had at least one topless bar with a backroom sausage show.

For a two-dollar cover, you could watch emergent girls strip naked, fuck each other, and even fuck them yourself, if you wanted.

I was really taken aback. He said it so matter-of-factly!

At first, I thought he was bullshitting me and said so. He took no offense. He just smiled and led me to his office. He unlocked a filing cabinet and pulled out an old shoebox filled with faded Kodachrome color photographs. My jaw dropped. The topmost photo showed a gorgeous, jumbo-breasted blonde woman standing naked on a small stage lit by footlights. She had gold-tasseled pasties and a huge penis arching up fully erect from her loins. Her penis had a pastie as well, kind of like a miniature red-velvet fez stuck over its head with a hanging gold tassel of its own.

It was a candid shot, not professional, and a little blurry with movement. She had her arms upraised in alook at megesture, sheathed in elbow-length black velvet opera gloves. She had a dazzling smile and her green eyes were wild with glee. Her penis looked a little slimmer than Barb's, but every bit as long. The photo had been taken over someone's shoulder and there were silhouettes of other spectators around the stage.

My uncle told me that he took that photo at a place just outside Lawrence called McGillicuddy's. It had been popular with the enlisted men at Fort Tecumseth. I barely heard him. There was a roaring in my ears as I sifted through the pile.

There were shots of that same blonde woman dancing beside an equally chesty brunette with bright green eyes and an even heftier penis. Their pasties and tassels were gone, and I made the odd observation that it made them look twice as naked.

I nearly dropped a photo showing the blonde bent over with the brunette standing behind her and that thick cock halfway inserted in her vagina. The angle of the shot provided a clear and beautiful view of the penetration. The brunette's penis was spearing the blonde's labia wide open. The blonde's balls had pulled up to hug her pubis and swelled so taut they shone. Her enlarged clitoris nosed between them like the out-thrust tongue-tip of an impudent child.

Both women were laughing out loud, looking at something happening in the audience out-of-frame. The brunette's hips blurred slightly; the shot had captured the instant after she'd pulled back and just before she thrust in again.

My uncle tapped a picture of the blonde. "She went by the stage name Honey Gunn," he said. I chuckled a little in disbelief. I was amazed how cool he was about it. "Her real name was Sally O'Brien. A really nice girl. They all were." He pointed to the brunette. "Never found out her real name, but the emcees always introduced her as Dazey Woodcock."

Again, I barely heard him. I had reached a sequence of photos showing Sally and Dazey on their hands and knees at the edge of the stage. There were men standing there and both women had spectators' cocks in their mouths.

My own mouth fell open. There were a whole bunch of photos of them giving blow-jobs to their audience. Some shots showed men coming in their mouths and on their faces, with sperm dripping down their cheeks and chins. In one of them, an up-close Sally was on her knees looking straight up into the camera while she sucked the photographer's dick. One of her eyes was closed in a playful wink. I held it up with my eyes asking my uncle a silent question.

"Yeah, I took that one. That's me," he said.

Jesus, I thought, half in shock and half in admiration. Although nowhere near as big as theirs, Uncle Joey still had a real whopper. I flipped to the next one.

I did a double take. Dudes in green fatigues and averted faces were having doggie-style sex with the girls. Onstage on all fours with their round asses up in the air, they were at just the right height. Shadowy figures stood lined up waiting their turn.

There were shots of the girls popping off on each other, too. In one, Dazey was on her knees while Sally stood over her, gripping her dripping cock. A long string of sperm hung between it and Dazey's lips. There was sperm all over Dazey's face. Again, both women were laughing, open-mouthed. Other shots caught them at the moment of climax with lariats of sperm flying every which way.

It wasnuts.

The photos weren't all taken at McGillicuddy's, either. There were several taken in what looked like a dim motel room with table lamps providing intimate lighting through a haze of cigarette smoke.

"Took those at a little motel down the way," my uncle said. "Emergent gals would often take boys there after closing time if the fellas wanted to spend a little more time and money. We'd all kick in a buck or two. It would be one big free-for-all til checkout."

I whistled in amazement. In the first motel picture, Sally and Dazey were naked on the bed sucking each other's dicks in a sideways sixty-nine. Men in olive-drab boxers stood around them, masturbating. Sperm shone on the curves of the girl's hips and thighs. None of the men's faces were visible. The top edge of the picture cut them all off at the neck, and I knew that was deliberate.

There were about four men, counting my uncle behind the camera, and in most of the photos, their cocks were buried in a girl's mouth or vagina.

The girls looked even better in close quarters. They were clearly enjoying themselves. In every shot where their mouths weren't stuffed with cock, they were either grinning or laughing open-mouthed. Even in the ones where their mouths were filled (and sometimes with more than one cock at a time), their eyes were all lit up and eager.

I was suddenly reminded of Barb. She had that same avid look when she was masturbating. Afterwards, she had sucked the sperm off her fingers with the same kind of lusty contentment as these girls swallowing those men's cum.

I realized my uncle hadn't been bullshitting me at all. If anything, he'd undersold how sexual these women were. I couldn't deny the photographic proof in front of me, even if I could barely fit my brain around it.

Then I came to a photo that brought me up short. It was another participatory handheld shot, only all the other guys seemed to be gone. My uncle was standing upright and had held the camera alongside himself, pointed inward. It was obvious from the somewhat tipsy angle that he'd taken the shot without the benefit of the view finder. The camera was at waist level so his head wasn't visible, but both girls certainly were. They were both kneeling, Sally in front and Dazey in back. Blonde Sally had his stiff cock in her mouth and Brunette Dazey had her face buried between his butt cheeks.

"What's going on here?" I asked. It looked...strange.

My uncle tapped the brunette with his finger. "She was licking my ass hole," he said calmly.

"Seriously?" I squawked. Rim jobs were outside my realm, the stuff of deviantPenthouse Forumfantasy. He nodded.

"I never knew it would feel that good until she started in doing it. I didn't ask for it, she just went at it." He smiled fondly at the picture. "I only ever saw Dazey that one time. She was touring around the sausage joints, not a local like Sally. I saw Sally a bunch of times, got to know her really well. Great girl."

Did you date her? Was she your girlfriend?I caught myself and pulled the plug on my teenage snark before I said something regrettable.

Even after that double blow-and-rim-job-combo, the next hand-held shot really shocked me. My still-faceless uncle was on his hands and knees and Sally was spooned up behind him with her upper body draped over his back. She was smiling into the camera with shining eyes while her cheek rested on one of his shoulder blades. She had both arms around him, hugging him tight, and her big tits plumped out to the sides between them. I saw the way her balls were pillowed on his and realized her long dick was fully inserted up his ass.

"What thefuck?" I whispered.

Dazey was down on her belly beneath him, her head rising up like that of a cobra to swallow his cock. She had her head tilted away from the camera and you could see the bottom of her chin pressed into the forest of his pubes. His balls pressed her cheek.

"Best lay I ever had," my uncle said matter-of-factly. I carefully placed the photo down on the stack and looked at him.

He sipped his lemonade. "I thought it might hurt," he said in a conversational way. "But it didn't, not at all. That's not to say it didn't take a little getting used to. That gal was hung like a horse." He shrugged. "They lubed me up real nice and used their fingers on me. Got me all ready. When Sally slipped it in, it was almost too much. But I took it okay. And it felt amazing."

I was still a pretty callow teenager at that time. Hearing my uncle talk about some hag-bred chick 'slipping it in' nearly forced a hysterical laugh out of me. To my credit, I kept it in check and said nothing.

He reached over and pulled out the next photo in the stack. It was another participatory shot, only this time my uncle wasn't holding the camera. The girl butt-fucking him was.

She'd held up the camera and pointed it straight down. Her breasts filled the bottom third of the picture, tipped by stiff nipples swollen nearly purple. The camera eye swept down her sleek body at a steep angle. Dead center was where her close-cropped brunette pubes launched her broad cock between my uncle's buttocks. The photo caught about half of it buried in him.

My uncle Joey was quite the strapping, muscular young buck back then. He had a sun-browned, triangular torso bound by the paler arms and legs of the girl underneath him. Again, you couldn't see his face, just the back of his crew-cut head, but the girl's face was visible over his shoulder. It was Sally. Her eyes were closed, her brows were raised and her mouth was open like she was either panting or moaning into his ear. He was mounted upon her, and Dazey was mounted upon him.

"Jesus," I muttered. "Did theybothfuck you?" I immediately bit my tongue. He took no offense.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Dazey was thicker around than Sally, but by then, Sally had already come in me. I could've taken a Louisville Slugger at that point."

I looked at him askance.

"There's something about their cum," he explained. "It's sweet, like vanilla frosting, but it's also got this weird kick to it. It's an aphrodisiac. And a muscle relaxer. When Sally came in my ass, I came too, and I didn't go soft. I didn't think that was possible, but when I came...it was like it just barely took the edge off. It also makes you high."

That startled me. "What, like grass makes you high?" I asked.

"Like, high as a damn kite," he chuckled. "It takes all your tension away. Dazey just slid right into me. No pain, hardly any strain. And that girl waswide. When she came in my ass, it just got better. Dickgirls can come and come and it's like they have no limits. After a few doses of their stuff, I was the same. I was just...flying."

He paused. "After my buddies left, those girls took turns doing me all night long. I can't remember how many times they came in me, or I came in them. They taught me to suck their cocks, too. I must've swallowed about a gallon of their cum that night."

I opened my mouth to sayOkay, seriously, that's enough, but nothing came out. I was hard.

The realization jolted me. I was sitting there with boner just as big and solid as when I spied on Barb Gustavo. I couldn't deny it. My cock throbbed with unequivocal pleasure. Looking at pictures of my uncle getting fucked by these large-breasted, willowy showgirls and hearing him tell me about it was arousing the hell out of me.

"Your mother tells me she caught you smoking grass in the shed last year," he said, forcing my whizzing brain to switch tracks yet again. I didn't know what to say to that (it was the truth) but he wasn't expecting a reply. He just snorted and shook his head. "I swear, that girl acts like she never touched the reefer back in high school."

Thatthrew me for a loop. I opened my mouth, but was still incapable of speech. He went on. "I smoked a lot of grass when I was over there," he said, and it took me a second to realize he meant Vietnam. "It really helped. It was the closest thing I could find to their jism. Only their jism didn't knock me out like the weed did. With their jism, I could still function. Dickgirl cum makes you happy and confident, and healthier too. I felt better, calmer, you name it."

I began flipping through the photos again. There were a few more motel room shots with Sally and Dazey, and then shots of other dickgirls on McGillicuddy's stage. They were dancing, masturbating, fucking each other and letting patrons fuck them. Every other photo showed them ejaculating fountains of semen. There were blondes, brunettes, redheads, Latinas, black girls and even a couple Asian girls. Oddly, the Asian girls were the most well-hung of them all. That might have been because they were so petite, their dicks just looked bigger in contrast. There were lots of handheld shots of my uncle having sex with all of them.

There must have been about two hundred three-by-five photos in that shoebox. It wasn't just peeler joints and motels, either. There were shots taken in fields, barns, even someplace that looked like a car showroom after hours.

"McGillicuddy's was where you'd find these girls," my uncle said. "But they were always organizing these extracurricular get-togethers in all sorts of places. They liked doing that because they wouldn't have to split the proceeds with a venue. You'd show up to wherever it was, they'd pass the hat, get about thirty bucks together--which was a lot of money back then--and then it was all systems go."

I barely heard him. That roaring seashell noise was in my ears again. Amazingly, he chuckled. "There was this one group of enterprising gals, everyone found out later was putting on shows in a church basement."

I swallowed drily.

"Stevie, listen." I looked at him. His tone was suddenly very serious.

"I know that this all may seem pretty strange by today's standards, but you have to understand, back then, out there in the Midwest? This was common, everyday stuff. Nobody talked about it, it never made the papers or was reported on TV, but it happened all the time. In the fifties and sixties? Half the guys I served with, hell, half the guys in thecountrylost their virginity to an emergent broad. They put out, plain and simple. And it never did any of those guys any harm. Never didmeany harm."

He held up an admonishing finger. "I don't want you thinking that I'd ever entertain the notion of letting guys fuck me just because I let those girls have their way. My back door was, is, and always will be Ladies Only."

I brayed laughter. He laughed with me. As easy as that, all the tension and weirdness disappeared. I felt relieved about my curiosity and interest.

"Can I, uh, borrow a couple of these?" I asked.

"Hell no," he said equably. "You aren't gumming up my precious memories."

"Aw, come on Uncle Joey," I protested. "I'll be careful."

"You can have them when I'm dead," he chuckled.

"Damn it," I muttered, and handed the box back to him.

We finished the last of our lemonade. I pulled a joint out of my pocket and offered it to him. Uncle Joey smiled.

"It's been a while," he remarked. "But why not."

We spent the rest of the afternoon blissed out on the couch watching the football game.

"The Thai Stick I got in 'Nam was way better than this," he said judiciously.

"Why'd you stop smoking it?" I asked, coughing a little.

"Didn't need it," he said, puffing contentedly. "I go out to Kansas once a month and spend a weekend with Sally. She owns the bar now, so she doesn't dance anymore, which is a shame. She still gives me a tumble for old time's sake. Keeps me on an even keel. Been going ever since I got back in sixty-six."

I laughed.Turns out shewashis girlfriend after all.

"Areyoudating anybody?" he asked out of the blue, and I had a weed moment where I wondered if he could read my mind.

I shook my head. I was still a virgin and really didn't want to talk about it.

"Shame," he said. "Why don't you ask out one of those pretty girls I always see at Barb's?"

"They don't date cooks," I said with a rueful half-shrug. "And...well, none of them stick around very long."

"How's that?" he asked.

I chuckled. "Whole 'nother story."

End of Chapter 2

Barb's Burger Joint Ch. 02

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