I want to go into Humphrey Slocombe and taste some ice cream.  They have these tiny metal tasting spoons and they’ll spend as much time with you as you want, and let you taste as many flavors as you’d like.  They’re so nice and friendly.  They must realize that a lot of people who go there are stoned out of their gourds.

I want to go there and taste a bunch of ice creams.  It won’t be busy at all so I won’t feel guilty about tasting every flavor and savoring each one for a LONG time.  Yum.  I’ll take a tiny spoonful into my mouth and slide it off the spoon.  Then I’ll push each tiny spoonful of ice cream to the roof of my mouth and let the bit of ice cream swim around my mouth, between my teeth, to all of my taste buds.  It’s all so fucking creamy.  I can smell it as I taste it, as if the smell is going to the backsides of my sinuses.  It’s so fucking good.

Then I’m on the counter.  I’m face down right at the register.  The register is going through me (this is a fantasy; anything can happen) but the employees can still work.  It’s almost as if I’m an enigma. But the customers can touch me because in order to get to the register they must walk between my legs.  My legs are wide open, my feet are bare.

In order to make any purchases people must walk between my legs.  I’m spread wide so each customer must snuggle up to my crotch in order to hand over cash to get his yummy, yummy ice cream.  Some slide their licked-clean tiny metal spoons into my ass.  In and out … in and out … in and out.  So slow, so nice.  And cold.  Some people bend down and lick as they’re sliding their tiny spoons into and out of my asshole.

Some people attend to my ass and slide fingers into my pussy as well.  Several people come into the shop and take it as normal that when making their purchases they play with my ass and my pussy.  My ass is always involved.  Eventually, I get wet enough that each customer is able to slowly and easily slip his entire hand into me.  The women fist me too.  Nice and rhythmic and easy.  In and out.  I’m so wet.  It feels especially good when someone’s fisting me and caressing my sphincter with her tongue simultaneously.

The shop starts to get busy.  No one can spend nearly enough time slowly sliding his fingers into my pussy and my ass; there’s a line forming.  The busier it gets in the shop the faster each person must thrust her hand into me.  Pretty soon, every time the register drawer opens there’s a fist punching my pussy.  Each time.  Faster and faster.  The shop is doing great business, as is my pussy.

Alternatively, I’m on my knees in front of the counter so I must suck and lick everything that’s put to my face.  Cocks are shoved down my throat.  Pussies are ground onto my face.  No matter what, all the store’s patrons can do whatever they want to me.  I’m a nasty, slutty tool for each person to use as s/he wants–my mouth, my cunt, my ass are all to be objectified, and heavily.

Harder and harder, faster and faster.  EVERYONE puts his hand in me.  They take turns thrusting into my wet, loose cunt.  Each time I grunt.  I can take it.  I can take more.  Until finally, I come.  I scream.  S-C-R-E-A-M out as I come.  Everyone looks up from eating their ice cream, but in a very nonchalant way.  “Yeah, that chick on the counter came because we were all treating her pussy like the sloppy cunt it is, but that’s so not a big deal.”

But then business slows down.  My pussy is spent, the store closes.  I sit on the floor naked and eat salt and pepper ice cream.  My legs are long and lean (it’s a fantasy, dammit) and stretched out before me.

I swear.  True story (of my fantasy).