The Sausage Club Revue (futa/futa, futa/female, futa/male, male/female, incest)

I’m the co-owner of a cinematic visual effects company here in southern California. A handful of friends and I started it up straight out of college. It’s a small operation, but we’re solvent and I’m proud of it. Our bread and butter is CGI work for smaller scale film productions. We also subcontract a little piecemeal work from the majors. It’s nothing huge (yet), but not bad for a bunch of guys still in their twenties.

My partners and I split all the work, including menial tasks like delivering packages to clients. Usually it's things like time-sensitive contracts or portable hard drives containing more terabytes of data than is practical to send electronically.

I don't mind running errands. I like getting out of the office and blasting around the city on my Vespa. I crank up the ska tunes on my mp3 player and pretend I'm in Quadrophenia. It sure beats squinting at a screen.

I came back from a coffee-and-bagel run one Friday afternoon to find I was the only person in the office. I was unsurprised. The Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival had started that day and I’d suspected my lazy colleagues would bolt early. They even left me a present. A mystery package sat at my workstation with an angry red post-it saying DELIVER NOW!!!

It was a plain brown parcel about the size of a toaster. There were no clues to its contents except a bill of lading taped to the top. And that was mostly one big bar code with a faded dot-matrix address printed above it.

The address was even more confusing. It read: twenty-five-and-a-half Lower Huntswood Lane. Google Maps and MapQuest both choked on it.

Huntswood Lane existed, but there was no ‘Lower’ Huntswood anywhere. Huntswood Lane ran just outside the downtown core, in an area of old multi-storey gabled buildings now gone to seed. Check cashing stores and pawnshops were the dominant storefronts with a smattering of massage parlors thrown in for color.

I shrugged and strapped on my helmet. I stashed the package in the rear topcase of my scooter and took off into the pre-rush hour lull.

Fifteen minutes later I was pulling up in front of twenty-five Huntswood. I took off my helmet and scowled. The place was a boarded-up old shoe store. It sat next to one of those abandoned churches you sometimes see in old business districts. All the other stores in the cul-de-sac were either closed for the day or shuttered as well. Huntswood Lane was a dead-end street.

I had an idea and walked my scooter down the alleyway between the church and the shoe store. Sure enough, there was a backstreet running behind all the buildings. And sure enough, there were a bunch of back-alley businesses there.

I was really not expecting to see a tiny porno movie theatre built into the back end of the church. I was even more surprised to see it was open for business.

There was a cheap illuminated marquee ringed by blinking lights above the box office with the words ADULT FILMS spelled out in removable black letters. Three capital letter X's were placed below for good measure. The box office was vacant, but a light was on. The whole theatre looked haphazardly implanted into the church's clapboard butt. Since the whole building was about the size of a Dunkin Donuts, not including the peaked roof and steeple, I guessed the actual cinema inside must be tiny.

I couldn't see any building numbers. I walked up to the box office. It was empty, but there was a button on the counter with a handwritten note saying ring for attendant. I pressed it, and heard muffled electronic chimes from inside.

An astoundingly pretty young woman stepped into the box office. She was my age, maybe a little younger, with a cloud of brunette curls floating around her face. She had large green eyes and a floral-patterned hippie dress with a plunging neckline. Her dress exposed a breathtaking expanse of tanned cleavage. It was impossible not to look there. Her breasts were so big, and just...present, your eyes were pulled into the vortex.

Like most guys, I have only the vaguest notion of how bra sizes work and I couldn't begin to guess he

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