My buddy Matt and I are downwind of the county fair as we approach, the smells wafting over us before we even walk through the entrance gate.

Did I say wafting? More like washing over us. They're an incoming tide of rich pure scent, submerging everything in its path.

The heady mix of odors swirling in the humid summer air and invading our sinuses is not subtle, but it is remarkably complex. I can pick out numerous individual aromas: Onion rings. Corn dogs. Tater tots, maybe skin-on French fries, or probably both. Funnel cakes. Smoky barbeque. Gooey chocolate chip cookies. Roasting sweet corn. Hot, squishy mini fucking donuts. And even the cinnamon sugar they're dredged in.

Once on the fairgrounds, the food smells mingle with waves of diesel exhaust and ozone from the ride motors, the body odors and the perfumes of the crowds jostling around us, and yes, multiple kinds of manure from the animal barns. All of these - and more - envelop us, adding a nearly palpable thickness to the air.

The sounds immerse us, too: Snippets of conversation amongst the crowd milling about. Barkers pitching overpriced amusements. Whirring motors from the rides, the periodic clack-clack-clack of ascending roller coasters, followed by the roar and rumble as they descend, twist and turn. Ecstatic screams from riders getting their thrills.

Almost as overwhelming as the smells and sounds are the lights and sights. The setting sun paints the scattered clouds orange and magenta for a few minutes, then quickly fades beneath the brilliance of the fair's more unnatural luminous attractions. Blinking and moving lights emanate every color of the rainbow, each hue coming at us in its most saturated form, blasting our retinas with trillions of photons. And, since our particular county's fair happens to fall on Independence Day weekend, at ten o'clock the fireworks will briefly outshine all of this candlepower.

God damn, this is America! Despite our intractable problems, nothing makes me more thrilled to be part of it all than the glorious sensory excess of a good county fair. Sure, if you're visiting America for the first time, you should see New York, in my opinion the world's greatest city and a fine distillation of American culture, even if it is more European than anywhere else in America. And you should visit LA, even if, as M. Doughty reminded us in Screenwriters Blues, "You are listening to Los Angeles" already by existing on this planet. Those places are fantastic, but they are outliers. If you want to really sample the distilled essence of America as most of us know it, pick any state and get yourself to one of its bigger county fairs.

Matt is in a particularly festive mood tonight, having driven us here in the 1969 Mach 1 Mustang which he recently acquired and started restoring. He has just passed the thousand-mile mark on the crate engine I helped him install last month (as described in my story "Cock 1"). And today, on our way to the fair, he finally got to open her up and see what she could do.

Which was a lot. He did a few effortless burnouts at stoplights to show off, careful not to stray too far above the speed limits. Then he came to a stop on the shoulder of a back road, cued up Babes in Toyland's "Sweet '69" on the new stereo and launched us. His tires smoked like crazy in the first three gears and barked in fourth, as he rocketed us up to a hundred-thirty and then stomped the newly upgraded brakes to wrench us back down from the felony zone. All of which happened before Kat Bjelland even managed to roar her first words, "I live it high." Yeah, well, today, so do we. Sure, this '69 Mustang's dashboard is cracked and its seats are tattered, but Matt'll get to fixing up the interior later this summer. In the meantime, this car drives fucking hot, not to mention looking hot in its fresh blue paintjob. Knowing Matt, he'd fuck it if he could. Probably while cranking out Queen's "I'm in Love with My Car."

When we finally got to the fair, he deliberately parked us a couple of blocks further out than he had to, finding a nearly empty lot where he could whip a perfect half-donut drift into our spot, leaving two sizzling skidmarks that ended precisely where his rear tires now sit.

So we're still buzzing from all that, adrenaline flowing and blood pumping, as the throbbing sensations of the fair flood our faces. And if that isn't sensory overload enough, Matt is hoping - as usual - to add sexual sensations to the overload we're already experiencing, by picking up girls.

I don't find that outcome likely, although sexual sensations still are. If he/we don't pick anyone up, we'll certainly suck each other off when we get back to his place. Matt's not very advanced in his Bisexuality, having never added anal sex, kissing or any real intimacy to the menu, but I do give him credit for having introduced me to manly blowjobs several years ago.

Whether or not we are to munch each other's wieners later, we munch corn dogs now, split some loaded tots and an elephant ear, and then go on a few rides to see if they can coax the greasy food back up.

< = = = = = = = = >

The fireworks' grand finale collapses into a vacuum of relative calm, and the crowd thins out to clumps of hormonal teenagers. While trying our luck at a shooting gallery, I hear a female voice shout, "Hey, Matt!"

It's Kaitlyn, who went to high school with us. I never knew her very well, but having not moved away after school like I did, Matt always knows everybody. They exchange a hug, then she hugs me too. "Joe, right?"

She's with her friend Brenda, who looks remarkably like her. We spend a few minutes catching up with Kaitlyn, who can't stop smiling at Matt while we talk. Brenda, while not quite flirting with me, is making frequent eye contact too. I'm interested.

"So I didn't know you had a twin sister, Kait!" joshes Matt. They could indeed pass for twins, even if Brenda has slightly darker hair and an inch less height.

"Everybody says that, but I don't even have a sister." She tells us they initially bonded years ago over their similar appearance, but have since become best friends, now spending much of their time together.

"Too bad," he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demands Brenda.

"Well, you could be ... you know, twins. Every guy's dream."

"Is it, though?" she challenges. "We all know how much guys like threesomes, but twins - or even sisters - can't do anything to each other." She leans in provocatively, appearing possibly a little buzzed. "And isn't that every guy's dream, really?"

Kaitlyn shoots Brenda a look to rein her in. Meanwhile, I'm semi-hard at Brenda's directness in stripping Matt's joke down to its core. I like that in a woman.

We all get ice cream in still-warm, still-chewy waffle cones, loaded with toppings. Matt’s taken such advantage of the toppings bar - hot fudge, gummy worms, jimmies, marshmallow creme, and God knows possibly more buried under all that - that Kaitlyn ribs him about whether there’s any ice cream in his cone.

"There's always cream in my cone, baby," Matt flirts in his typical way. To all three of us he announces, "And you losers are throwing money away. Properly done, ice cream is merely a topping delivery device. I'm fucking nailing this."

After a moment of quiet, I notice him staring at me. "Speaking of nailing, Barnes, who'd you suck?"

I guess I have a bit of an ice-cream moustache. “What, you forgot already?" I faux-hurt flirt back at him. "Don't tell me it didn't mean anything to you!”

“Guess I did forget, man," he deadpans. "Maybe it wasn't that good.”

“That's not what you said when you were painting this on my lips!" I taunt, luridly licking the white substance off.

"You boys gonna flirt with each other all night?" chides Brenda, grabbing my hand as we walk through the darkened area behind the Grandstand bleachers. "We're right here!"

"Sorry, ladies," Matt addresses the women, pulling Kaitlin close. "We promise to keep our attention focused on you. And believe me, Kait, you have always had my attention."

"Oooh, flattery will get you everywhere. For a fee, though," she giggles, giving him a little kiss. "First one's free."

"How much after that?"

"Ten bucks."

"Nice!" Matt says, pulling a ten out of his wallet. "That's a pretty cheap date."

"Careful!" Kaitlyn slaps his shoulder good-naturedly, but makes good on the kiss. "The prices do escalate with the action."

Brenda moves closer to me, flirtatiously asking, "So, Joe the Wingman," which is probably an apt description of my role here, "how often do you two team up to pick up girls at the fair?"

"In Joe's case, never!" interjects Matt.

"He's right, Brenda. Never, so far." I wrap my arms around her waist. "But you might be special." Our lips meet. Hers are glossy and delicious.

Matt finishes his ice cream, first licking his tongue around the dripping bottom end like it's the tip of a cock.

"Wait, now it looks like you're the one giving a creamy blowjob," jokes Kaitlyn, feigning confusion.

"Truth be told, I sucked him off in the car too, back at the parking lot," Matt replies. The truth is not at all being told in that statement, but given our relationship, it easily could have happened. He continues, "Paid each other 100 bucks. My license plate does say 69 4EVER, you know."

"Does not," laughs Brenda as she fondles my bulge.

"No, Matt really does have that plate," I tell her. "He's restoring a '69 Mustang."

This does not seem to impress the women nearly as much as Matt would probably like. Kaitlyn seems more fixated on, "So it was only 100 bucks for a blowjob?"

"Ha! I told you, Joe's wasn't very good! It was only worth a hundred!" General laughter ensues. At my expense, I suppose, but I don't mind where this could be going.

"So what would you pay for a good one?" teases Kaitlyn, grinding her pelvis against Matt's and kissing him again. "By the way, you're up to fifty dollars now. I'll run a tab for you."

"I don't know, I don't know. I better watch my budget here." Pensively, he inquires, "Hmm ... if it's ten bucks for you to kiss me, how much would you charge to watch you kiss Brenda?"

"Hey, that's premium action!" objects Brenda, who doesn't actually seem upset at the suggestion. "You some kind of high rollers here, boys?"

"Not really, just asking. Remember, you're the one who pointed out you're not sisters and can 'do stuff' to each other.'

Kait seems hesitant, but ultimately takes the bait. "Well, the price would have to be right. What do you think, Brends? Two hundred, at least?"

Matt fishes out his wallet.

"Hey, keep it in your pants," Brenda chides. "I mean your wallet." Seemingly still intrigued, she suggests, "Maybe we can trade for something we want."

"Like what?

"Did you consider that we might enjoy watching you boys kiss each other too? Like in Challengers, or Wet Hot American Summer? What do you think, Kait?"

"Ooh, I'd pay three big ones to see that," she says, wide-eyed. "Plus a free tongue kiss," which she gives Matt up front.

"I'll match that like a public radio donor," declares Brenda. "I know that's a big Rubicon for boys, so you can have two whole minutes to consider our offer. And then," she says, rubbing my crotch, "you can use the proceeds to buy favors back from us. Like watching us kiss."

Despite the fun banter about paying for sexual favors, these women are clearly not professionals in that sense. I hear a somewhat nervous "Are we really doing this?" from Kaitlyn as they walk twenty yards away, conferring and digging in their purses.

"Shit, dude," laments Matt. "I never thought they'd throw that back in our face when I asked to see them kiss."

"We don't have to do it," I reassure him, knowing how uncomfortable the idea makes him. I've kissed guys lots of times, and always enjoyed the hell out of it, but he never has.

"I think we better. I dunno if we can 'afford' to get blowjobs from them if we don't, and God knows what they'll charge for a real fuck."

"Either way, it would beat the hundred-dollar blowjobs we give each other." I joke.

"Which actually are worth more than a hundred, if I'm honest," he replies, having recovered his usual joviality. "Okay, fine. Let's just fucking do this. But remember," he cautions, flicking his tongue out suggestively and turning his ass, "just because I kiss doesn’t mean I put out. You're not turning me gay."

Fine. Whatever. A kiss is some sort of progress, and I do still hope to get in his ass someday. But not "turn him gay."

“Understood," I warn him, "but I can be very persuasive. I’ve turned at least one guy gay, you know.” There is some truth to this, as detailed in my earlier stories "Discovered!" and "Rediscovered!"

Thankfully, he seems unperturbed by this flirtation, retorting, "Yeah, but not me. I want my cock buried in Kait's tight little cunt, not your tight little ass. And that'll make it worth it. Even if you turn out to be a shitty kisser.”

< = = = = = = = = >

The women return, Brenda flourishing a thick wad of cash in one hand and whacking it several times against the back of her other hand. "Okay, boys, here's six hundred American dollars, enough for you to buy a fuckton of fun back from us, and we hope you spend it all. And all you have to do is kiss each other. With tongue. For ten seconds. Are you men enough?"

Surprising me with his lack of reluctance, Matt abruptly brings his lips to mine and shoves his tongue in my mouth.

I hear the ladies gleefully chanting, “One … two … three …”

After our initial, violent lip collision, our tongues start dancing, swirling, snaking. I'm not sure how Matt feels about this, but I'm loving it. Not in a romantic sense, but in the hot, testosterone-overload sense that I always feel when kissing another man. It's making me hard as steel.

“Four … five … “ they count. Then they both giggle, “Sex!”

Matt lets out a little moan and pulls me closer.

“Seven … eight …”

His hand actually reaches down and massages my hard cock a little. I return the favor.

“Nine … a perfect ten!”

Matt keeps kissing me.

“Oh! ... Eleven! Twelve!”

He finally pulls back, a little breathless. “Okay, okay," he mutters. "Not a shitty kisser.”

“Worth it?” I ask.

“Yes. But don't expect to add it to our repertoire unless you want to pay me six hundred every time.”

“Oh my God, Mattie," I flirt with a fake-gay voice. "Does that mean you’ll be my kissing whore now?”

“Maybe I shouldn't rule it out, Joey," he banters back in a near falsetto. "I do still have to pay for the new seats for the 'Stang.”

Impressed, Kaitlyn and Brenda congratulate us on a good show, and throw us each a bonus twenty for rubbing each other's cocks. In return, they kiss each other for us, earning four hundred back. We don't bother counting the seconds, but it goes on for a lot longer than Matt's and my kiss.

Both women seem to be pretty passionate about it. Especially Brenda, who reaches under Kaitlyn's top and squeezes, which extracts a helpless whimper from Kaitlyn. "Okay, that wasn't so bad," Kaitlyn quietly admits.

"I'll say," Brenda softly concurs. I see her cast a brief, wistful glance at her friend as we pair up boy-girl again. Matt and I stuff bills in the girls' blouses, in exchange for more kisses, as we start walking back to our cars.

He asks, “So what exactly are your other ... um, rates ... ladies?”

"If it's ten for a kiss," suggests Brenda, "I think forty for a boob feel."

"That's for one tit!" laughs Kaitlyn. "Sixty for both boobs."

"Now, let's talk blowjobs," says Brenda luridly. "If Joe's 'shitty' ones cost a hundred, we'd better charge more than that."

"Two hundred?"

"Two-fifty if they want us to swallow."

"That's fair. How much for them to go down on us?" asks Kaitlyn.

"Store credit! Minus one-hundred."

"I'm good with that. And then, for the real ride of the night ... the fare for a screw better be at least three hundred."

"Up the butt is five hundred, though," chuckles Brenda, not appearing completely unwilling. I keep liking her even more.

"C'mon," interjects Matt. "Three hundred for a screw? I can get a screw at the hardware store for fifty cents."

"Fine, Matt," scoffs Kaitlyn. "You go get yourself a fifty-cent screw and tell us how it feels up your pee-hole."

"All right, point taken," Matt says. "Let's see here ... three kisses, maybe just one boob ... gotta save money somewhere ... a blowjob ... with swallowing, can't cheap out there ... beaver-munch credit, and a slow screw. Minus what you paid us for kissing ... damn, we're still out a couple hundred each!'

"I'd say you're getting off cheap!" exclaims Brenda.

"Well, as long as we're getting off with you two. Compared to Joe's hundred-dollar blowjobs, that's still a fine deal."

Matt drives Kaitlyn to his place in his car, while Brenda and I follow in hers. "Don't worry, Joe," she flirts as we drive, running her finger along the bulge of my shorts, "I think you might find my blowjob to be worth two hundred." She gulps exaggeratedly. "Fifty." Oh God.

"So do you always charge like this?" I murmur, mesmerized by this bold cutie.

"No, Joe. You might be special," she says, throwing back my earlier line with a grin as we stop at a red light, making out for a few seconds. I throw a ten-spot at her.

As we start off again, I ask, "So have you and Kaitlyn ever kissed before?"

"Once. When we were still in school. And a little drunk."

"Did you do anything else? Or want to?"

"No. I've always wanted to, but she won't even let me bring up what happened. I'm shocked that she went for it tonight. Maybe she's getting more open-minded."

"So's Matt," I muse. Hmm, maybe we have some leverage here. "Do you think she would do something with you tonight - I mean, more than kissing - if he and I did too?"

"Huh! That's an intriguing thought. She's always complaining how guys want to see women together but refuse to do anything with each other. I think it's partly her excuse to avoid trying anything with a girl, but partly that she really wants to see guys together. No one's ever called her bluff before, Joe. Are you seriously suggesting this? You guys wouldn't actually ... ?" she asks as we pull up in front of Matt's. "Would you?"

"Hell, we just sucked each other last night," I taunt as we get out of the car. We walk inside holding hands, Brenda staring at me, mouth and eyes agape.

< = = = = = = = = >

Brenda leads Kaitlyn to Matt's bathroom so they can confer quietly. It goes on for several minutes.

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" he wonders.

"Given the kissing trade we did, maybe they want to up the ante."

"They do not," he scoffs.

"I might have made a suggestion," I tell him with a grin. His eyes open wide and a grin spreads across his face.

The women come into the living room, holding hands.

"You boys ever see two women do anything together?" asks Kaitlyn as they pull off each other's blouses and turn to face us.

"Um, I haven't been so lucky," admits Matt, "but by some miracle, 'Ladies' Man' here has. Twice, right Joe?"

I nod, humbly.

"For a cool thousand, we'll kiss again. And ... " says Brenda, now pausing for dramatic effect. "... we'll suck each other's tits." She's bouncing slightly on her heels and betraying some excitement at this prospect.

"Damn, you drive a hard bargain. Will you take a check?"

"No," says Kaitlyn firmly. Smiling, she suggests, "but if you don't have that kind of high-roller cash, we're willing to offer you a fair trade. You say you sucked each other in the car, and we're calling your bluff. You two suck each other's cocks right now, and we'll call it even with the boob sucking. Ten seconds each, just like before. And you two have to go first again."

Tits for tools is hardly a like-for-like trade, we know, but we instantly understand the economics and strip off our clothes off for the ladies, who reply with cheers and wolf-whistles. They doff their bras and shorts in turn, leaving just their underwear on.

Matt kneels before me, pretending to be nervous. "Gee, Joe, I don't know if I can do this ..."

He's bullshitting, of course. "Just suck it," I demand with fake dominance, thrusting my hips forward so that my cockhead touches his lips, and then I slap his cheek with it. Unfazed, he opens his mouth to whisper "Hell, yes," and summarily takes me all the way in. No licking, no tentative tasting, just swallowing me to the back of his throat.

"Fuuuck," I groan with pleasure as he flicks his tongue on the underside of my shaft, then slowly bobs. I think I hear the girls each echo the same word.

"Uh, I think that's more than ten seconds," Brenda points out after a few strokes, and at least twice that much time.

Kaitlyn seems unable to speak, her fingers busy inside her pink panties. "Oh my God," she finally utters, breathing heavily as she finally withdraws them.

"All right, my turn. Give me your cock," I gamely encourage Matt as I get on my knees and he stands up, sausage in hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Brenda grabbing Kaitlyn's hand to lick the cunt juice off her fingers, and I hear her hum, "Mmm."

Can we keep escalating this? I wonder. At this rate, if we're to see the women go down on each other - which I think Brenda desperately wants, but Kaitlyn may not go for - Matt and I would have to fuck. And I highly doubt he would go for that, even to watch women munch cunt.

"Yeah, suck it, dude," Matt encourages as I lick around his glans and then swallow him, running my lips up and down his length. I've started stroking myself while sucking him.

"Oh ... damn," gasps Kaitlyn after what is again a lot more than ten seconds, finally kneeling next to me and taking over Matt's manhood.

Brenda kneels behind me and kisses the back of my neck, reaching around to stroke me slowly. "That was really amazing, Joe. We're proud of you both."

Then she leans in to whisper in Kaitlyn's ear, "Time for our end of the deal."

Kaitlyn removes her mouth from Matt's rod and tentatively turns her head towards Brenda. "Okay," she says, somewhat reluctantly. "We did agree to this. Are you sure you're ready, Brends?"

"Oh, I'm ready, babe," she says with much greater confidence. She cradles Kaitlyn's face in her hands, gives her an impossibly sexy, loving kiss, then sucks on her ear, and neck, and works her way down to her breasts. She lets out an enthusiastic "Mmm! Gawd!" as she takes one of Kaitlyn's firm nipples in her mouth, then the other, squeezing each breast with her hand as she sucks it.

"Oh, that feels so good!" gasps Kaitlyn, a bit short of breath.

"Mmm-hmm," replies Brenda, coming back up for air and another kiss. "Now you try it."

Kaitlyn gingerly reaches out to Brenda's chest, tentatively cupping a breast, then squeezing, then pinching a nipple.

"Yes!" hisses Brenda, throwing her head back. "Suck my tits, baby!"

Kaitlyn does so, letting out some happy hums herself as she explores boobly pleasure for the first time. Then she abruptly stands up, clearly flushed and excited. "Come on, Matt, take me to bed." They disappear into his bedroom, leaving Brenda and me with the fold-out couch in his living room.

< = = = = = = = = >

Brenda and I lie next to each other on the couch, enjoying a lovely kiss and an exquisite feel of her tits. "That's both boobs, Joe!" she teases. "Sixty, please!"

I stand up to grab a stack of cash off the end table and cascade some bills across her nearly-nude body. Now standing in front of her, I dangle more money above my very erect penis, inches from her head. She rolls closer, smiling up at me and giving my cock a lick. I drop a few more bills, which she rubs across her tits, giggling.

She starts sucking my pecker - quite expertly and pleasurably - but as I drop one final hundie on her, she suggests I earn myself some "store credit" for what's yet to come. We switch positions, and I eagerly dive into her pussy, which is tangy and musky and succulent, all the wonderful things that pussies always are. I run my hands up her back, then around to her boobs, which are round and supple and rubbery at their peaky points, all the wonderful things that boobs always are.

I sense Brenda's body tremoring and stiffening, accompanied by escalating and then diminishing moans, in what might at least be a minor climax. Kissing me, and briefly swirling her tongue in my mouth, she has us switch so she can straddle me. sinking my manhood into her tender, wet, warm womanhood. God, I'd almost forgotten how good that feels! The last two women I've had sexual contact with, for differing reasons, had me observe a no-penis-in-the-vagina rule, so it's nice to enjoy full-menu sex again. And I do enjoy the hell out of it, doing some of my best butt-caressing and boob-sucking and hands-through-hair-running while we rock together.

Not seeming to mind that my face is covered in her fluids, Brenda pulls my head up and kisses me intensely, her lips and tongue focused not only on my mouth but on licking her own juices from my saturated face. I pull her cowgirl hips tighter against mine, her clit grinding against me, and she quickly reaches a bigger climax than before, her sweaty body collapsing onto me while I continue to thrust, convulsing my cream into her not long afterward.

After both of our breathing slows, Brenda gazes into my eyes and says, "I hope it isn't too early to ask, Joe, but I really like you, and I would like to see you again. And not just for sex. Or," she giggles, "for money. I'm going to be out of town next weekend, but after that, can we get together?"

"Of course! I'd love that." Damn, this girl actually likes me!? Enough that she's asking me out on a second date before we're done with the first? How rare.

"And by the way, Kaitlyn might well keep Matt's money, but yours is no good with me. You helped me get something tonight that's worth a lot more to me."

Oh, I think I know what that is. "You mean what happened between you and Kaitlyn?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, I've never been with a woman before, but I think I want to. Preferably her. And I'm hoping that broke down some of her resistance." Oh God, I'm thinking, and she's going to keep me in the loop as she explores her bisexuality? What could be better?

There might be one hitch, of course. "But do you think she wants that?"

"That is the big question, Joe. I need to try it with or without her, but I'd sure like it to be with her."

Brenda shifts her weight, her cunt ejecting my shrunken, gooey prick. She kneels in front of me and gently licks me again. "Why have I never even tasted a man after sex before? The combination of juices tastes amazing." After a couple more licks, she looks up and smirks. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I would like the taste of pussy."

"I think you might be Bisexual, just like me." That's not something I would not normally admit on the first date. My last girlfriend dumped me precisely for being Bisexual, so I'm all too aware how that can scare them off. But with Brenda, it seems safe.

"Wait. So tonight wasn't Matt's and your first time sucking each other?"

"Well, it was the first time today," I concede with a grin. "Maybe you thought I was kidding, but we really did suck each other last night. Cum and everything."

"Oh!" A smile creeps across Brenda's face. "So unlike a lot of guys, I suppose you like the combination of male and female juices too?"

"Damn right I do!" Playfully, I push her back onto the carpet, my head falling between her legs. "I just hope my cum hasn't all leaked out yet!" I start cleaning up her sopping twat, squeezing her boobs with my hands, and she squeals with pleasure. After a couple of minutes, my prick long since re-hardened, she switches us around into a sixty-nine so that we can both taste each other - on each other - at the same time.

Wow. Could I actually have found a girl who likes me? And who will have full vaginal sex with me? And who actually likes sixty-nine? And is going to give me a front-row seat to her own bisexual explorations? And might help me open Matt up a bit more too? Could this be too good to be true?