Ann Crouse

Runaround Stews

Chapter 1

"Hello, Ann. Hello you delicious cunt. Hello, mouth sucker."

"Who is this? Who the hell is this?" The sleep drained from Ann Barot's beautiful eyes.

"Ohhh, poor baby bitch! Don't remember the voice, eh? But do you remember sucking my big cock, lickin' it so smooth with that educated tongue of yours? Remember getting it up that sweet ass of yours? I remember your voice, Ann. I remember it from the way you screamed with delight every time I cornholed you, and the way you moaned at the sweet taste of my prick, mmm, you used to say how yummy it tasted. Know what else I remember? I remember them big tits of yours, especially those big wine colored nipples… when they'd swell up nice and hard. But don't worry, you little cock-hungry nympho, you won't have to remember, 'cause soon now I'm gonna let you blow me again, and then I'm gonna fuck you nine ways from Tuesday, and I'm gonna lick you like a slurpee, eat you until you die from the heat of it and…"

Ann hung up the phone.

Ann thought how lucky it was that her husband wasn't home. Or was it? If he were here, he might satisfy that damp little cloudburst in her crotch, brought on, she had to admit, by the both lovely and filthy language of the obscene phone call.

She stroked her bare breasts lightly and the nipples came alive. The caller was right, her nipples were unusually large, and they did have the color of wine to them. The stroking finger trailed down over her flat tummy and into the slightly creamed hole in the nest of soft crotch hair. She masturbated furiously, then forced herself to sleep. After all, she had to be wide awake for her biology class the next day. She would think about that, and not the sound of that monstrous voice.

The next day, in class, she thought again of the phone call. The voice had a familiar ring to it, and she told herself half a dozen times, no, it just couldn't be him. The rotten sonofabitch, she wouldn't put it past him, even after all this time. He'd be just that much of a bastard, she thought.

"Has everyone made the first incision on the dorsal side?" Professor Jacobs stood with his hands clasped behind his back, pacing back and forth between the laboratory tables where students sat clad in white smocks in her Biology 101 class.

Gradually Professor Jacobs sauntered in the direction of one of his older but prized students. "Ann, is everything okay here? Any problems separating the layer of skin from the muscle? Takes a steady hand to use the scalpel effectively."