Fifty Shades of Alice at the Hellfire Club by Melinda DuChamp Page B

matter, she just couldn’t muster the enthusiasm.
    “Number two,” Jane called out. “You’re up!”
    A grunt sounded behind the wall.
    “Not
that
number two. Read the poem.”
    O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
    That’s newly sprung in May:
    O my Luve’s like a hairdresser,
    Because I think I’m gay.
    “What?” Alice said to the penis. “If you’re gay, then why are you competing to win my favor?”
    “I don’t know. You seem perfectly nice, but I don’t really want to win your favor. It just seemed like a good opportunity to read my poetry.”
    “Robert Burns, you’re eliminated!” Jane declared. “Sorry about that, Alice. But that’s the type of thing you get with an open poetry slam.”
    “Oh my.” Alice put her hands on her naked hips. “So far, this has been somewhat disappointing. That Burns fellow wasn’t good at all. I also think he was trying to poop.”
    “I had too many chicken wings!” Burns declared. “I can feel the Battle of Sherramuir raging in my bowels.”
    Alice wondered how many more little known literary references she’d have to endure before this was over. It wasn’t erotic in the least. And it couldn’t have been funny for more than one person out of ten thousand.
    Jane nodded sympathetically. “It will get better. It almost has to or this book will get terrible reviews. May we have the next poem, please?”
    Love at the lips was touch
    As sweet as I could bear;
    And once that seemed too much;
    Nice titties, quite a pair!
    “You like them?” Alice asked. She skimmed her hands up her sides, catching her breasts and lifting, fluffing them up like the corset had.
    “Very much,” said the poet. “Will you pinch your nipples for me? Make them really stiff?”
    Now this was more like it! She rolled her nipples between her fingertips, until they jutted out as if begging to be sucked. Then she lowered herself to her knees in front of the hole.
    The manhood pushing through was long, and very hard, the head the rich red of a cherry popsicle. Alice couldn’t wait to taste. She swirled her tongue over him, tracing the ridge, then teasing at the frenulum underneath. Then she fit her mouth over him and took his whole length deep into her throat.
    “Please, Alice,” the poet said. “Those tits. Can I feel them?”
    “Of course.” Alice brought her hands on either side of her soft mounds. Moving closer to the wall, she slipped his member into her cleavage. He was still wet from her mouth, and when she started to move, he slid, slick and easy.
    She moved up, the reddish head disappearing between her voluptuousness. Then she slid down, and he burst free, thrusting up toward her mouth like a spear. Down. Up. Down. Up.
    “I’m going to lose it, Alice. I’m going to come all over those luscious tits of yours.”
    Alice liked that idea. She liked it a lot. But she’d also liked his poem. She let his hardness slip free. “I’m sorry. But I want you to continue to the next round.”
    “Thank you,” he said, but she couldn’t help note that he sounded disappointed.
    Alice couldn’t help note she was a little disappointed, too. And really ready to see what she could do with the next cock that recited a poem she liked.
    “All right,” Jane said. “We have one poet moving to the next round. “Will the next poet please read?”
    Those other poets
    Rhyme like newbies
    Now I want to
    Suck your boobies
    “Sort of charming, I guess. At least it conveys the spirit of the competition.” Alice actually thought it was terrible, but she felt like sucking some cock, so she’d let that slide. She eyed the glory hole, but could see nothing but the smallest hint of a tip. She knelt down for a better look, then realized the problem.
    This poet’s penis was too fat to fit through the hole. In fact, its girth was much larger than its length, and the shape reminded Alice of a fire hydrant. It also reminded her of something else.
    Well, not something, actually.
Someone
.
    “Humpty? Is