He was deep in her pussy. His hands reached for her tits. He grabbed them and squeezed, sinking his fingers into the ripe flesh. Belinda reveled as his cock sank deep inside her. She used her muscles on his shaft, pulsing against his throbbing, blood-engorged cock. She wriggled her hips and saw the agony on his face. He was going to come! She worked her hips back and forth, riding his cock with a fury, screwing him in a heated frenzy. Her legs spread wider and wider, opening her cunt to him. "There you are baby," she said "Fuck me, harder, HARDER!"
PROLOGUE
Mavis Taylor was feeling bored.
She was also feeling her pussy.
The two feelings were interrelated, in fact, because Mavis always felt bored when she wasn't having sex and so the two things, boredom and sexual frustration, had become one and the same in her mind. Just as Pavlov's dog had learned to salivate at the sound of a bell, so had Mavis learned to start rubbing her twat at the first dull chimes of boredom. It was a nice sort of cunt, hairy and juicy, and she enjoyed playing with it. But at the moment it wasn't really convenient to give herself a proper finger-fucking, because Mavis was working.
It's a vicious circle, she thought.
Her work was boring; boredom made her horny; being at work, she had no privacy to enjoy a finger-fuck and had to remain frustrated-and the more frustrated she got, the more bored she became.
Mavis worked at the counter of the Rhode Island Lottery.
She sold tickets to hopeful gamblers and, less frequently, paid out on a winning ticket. When she had applied for the job, Mavis had thought it would be exciting. Perhaps she had even thought that she might meet some handsome, big-dicked gentleman who had just won the jackpot. But it hadn't worked out that way. Most of the time, she simply stood there behind the bars of the teller-type cage, waiting for customers and getting bored and, therefore, randy.
She had been at work several hours already today, and very few customers had come in. None of them was handsome and none had presented a winning lottery ticket so, presumably, none were rich, either.
Mavis yawned.
She was a tall girl with short curly hair. She had firm, thrusting tits and a pneumatic ass and lovely, long legs. Most of the time she was happy to have lengthy legs. She knew that men liked them and she liked to wrap them around men while they humped away on top of her; those gams seemed to have been designed with that in mind. But even those splendidly long legs confounded her when she was at work. Had she been a short girl with stubby limbs, she could have played with her pussy below the level of the counter and no one would be the wiser. Being long-legged, though, she found that her crotch was too high for such secret maneuvers and, were she to play with it, a customer would be likely to take notice.
She shifted her weight restlessly.
Her quim squished juicily as she moved.
She was tempted to go to the bathroom and do a job on herself, but the thought was not all that appealing. For one thing, she could not leave the counter unattended. If so, she would have to call the manager from the back office to take over while she was gone, and he wouldn't like that. And that meant she would have to hurry. Mavis was an expert fingerfucker, efficient and experienced. She was quite capable of giving herself an orgasm in a few frantic minutes, but she never really enjoyed those hasty digital diddlings. When she frigged off, Mavis liked to take her time and enjoy a long, leisurely rub before she creamed.
She decided to grit her teeth and wait for her lunch hour.
But her snatch was really simmering.
Then a customer came in.
He was tall, dark and handsome, and Mavis's horny heart fluttered. She put on her sexiest smile. But the man held the door open and a woman came in right behind him. The woman was gorgeous, with long blonde hair and tilted green eyes and a body that, had Mavis been given to gutter phrases, she would have termed: Built like a brick shithouse. The blonde put her arm around the man's waist as they approached the counter, her lush hip rubbing against him as they moved. Mavis stopped smiling, feeling envious and jealous. She was willing to bet that the good-looking male was gifted with a huge prick and that the blonde was not his wife. Wives did not snuggle up to husbands that way, not in a lottery office at least.
"A jackpot ticket, please," he requested.
Mavis reached for the ticket.
Then, as an afterthought, he said, "No, make that two jackpot tickets, if you will," and he smiled at the blonde.
"For me?" she asked, feigning surprise in the husky sort of voice that could never really register surprise when a man gave her a gift.
"You've earned it, Belinda," he said.
There seemed to be some hidden meaning in his words, and the blonde giggled saucily. Mavis, more frustrated than ever, passed the two jackpot tickets over the counter and took the man's money. He thanked her politely. What did she want with his thanks? She wanted his prick, was what Mavis wanted. Oh! That lucky blonde! Not only was she getting plenty of dick from the handsome guy, but a lottery ticket, as well! The man put one ticket in his wallet and gave the other to the blonde, who slid it, classically, down into the chasm of her deep, soft cleavage. The two turned, laughing together. Mavis watched them leave. The woman had an ass shaped like an upside-down valentine, firm and full-globed, and it swayed a hell of a lot more than necessary when she walked. As they went out the door, the man's hand slipped down and cupped that splendid rear end.
Mavis groaned.
Now poor Mavis was so hot that she simply had to take care of herself. The cunt juice was soaking her panties and trickling in creamy ribbons down the insides of her thighs. She felt as if she had a glowing ember between her legs.
There was no sense in disturbing the manager.
She was so horny that she was going to climax the moment she started rubbing her clit and, therefore, she figured she might as well just do the job right there at the counter. She would be finished before anyone else came in; she could finish a desperation job like that in the time it would take a customer to open the door and walk across the room to the counter. She grinned ruefully. What a life it is for a working girl, she thought. Imagine frigging myself off at a counter!
To show off her fine, long legs, Mavis always wore short skirts. Now she lifted the hem of her tiny skirt and slipped her hand down inside her soaking panties and began to finger her tingling clit.
She kept an eye on the door; she didn't expect an interruption from behind.
Brian Hammond was the manager of the lottery office and, at the moment, he was as bored as Mavis. But there was one big difference. Brian had his own office and, therefore, could play with his prick in privacy. He was a broad fellow with a paunch. His eyebrows met above his nose. But he had a cock of quality. It was long and thick and, although a bit gnarled, quite a sight. Brian had his broad pecker out at the moment, not frigging it but holding it in his open hand as he eyed it.
He was wondering why, with a cock like that at home, his wife was always cheating on him?
She fucked everyone, did Mrs. Hammond.
She fucked the meter reader and the milkman and the garbage collector. She fucked the neighbors on both sides and the one across the street, to boot. She had fucked Brian's brother. She had even fucked his sister. In fact, just about the only guy around that she did not fuck with regularity was Brian. Why is that? he wondered. She screwed him on his birthday and on Valentine's Day and, sometimes, on Easter Sunday. She blew him for Christmas, if he gave her an expensive present. In between, Brian had to do without and he was a very frustrated fellow.
Brain sighed, unable to figure it out.
He gave his dick a tentative tug.
It reacted positively, hardening and starting to pulse.
He stroked it again, then nodded to himself, satisfied with the sensation and about to settle down to a conclusive pumping. But then he paused. Jacking-off feels better if a guy has some sort of stimulation, he was thinking. He needed a fantasy or, better yet, something at which he could look. Brian naturally thought about the tall, sexy girl who worked at the lottery-ticket counter. He thought about her long legs.
Grinning fiendishly, Brian got up and moved quietly to the door, his cock rampant in his fist. He had decided to open the door a crack and gaze at Mavis's ass and gams, from behind, while he merrily pulled his pork. He always shot farther, and more abundantly, when he was inspired by a lusty sight.
He turned the knob carefully and pulled the door open a crack.
He gasped.
Brian's eyes popped out like two hardboiled eggs and his jaw dropped open so wide that it looked as if he were gnawing at his breast. It was no wonder, for it was a remarkable sight that greeted his gaze.
Standing at the counter, her back to him, Mavis had lifted her skirt and tucked her hand down the front of her panties. They were bikini panties and, with a hand stuffed inside as well as her haunches, they were drawn so tightly across her ass that it looked like her loins had been slung in a catapult. The sweet cheeks of her behind swept out naked on either side. She was shifting her weight from leg to leg, and her trim hips were working like pistons as they jolted from side to side. Her belly pumped. Her head tilted. Brian could hear her panting. He stared at this remarkable vista for a moment, hardly able to believe it. The sight registered in his eyes, but made no immediate impact on his brain. It was just too unexpected. Yet there could be no doubt about it.
Mavis Taylor was masturbating!
Brian had a logical, managerial mind and he contemplated the situation. She was frigging off; he had intended to jack-off; she must be as horny as he was; the conclusion was obvious.
He hesitated for another moment.
Brian was a bit of a snob and didn't relish the thought of balling a common clerk. But then he remembered that his wife, who was a complete snob, was not reluctant to screw even garbage collectors.
Grinning, Brian opened the door wide and advanced, cock-first, upon the unsuspecting girl....
When Brian cleared his throat and looked over her shoulder, Mavis was horrified. Caught in the act! She blushed bright-red. Her hand stopped moving, but she left it where it was, figuring that it would be more obvious if she drew it out, digits dripping with cunt juice, than if she kept it concealed and pretended that she had merely been scratching an itch in her crotch.
"I just wanted to check the till," he claimed.
Have I gotten away with it? Mavis wondered. Doesn't he realize what I've been doing? She hoped so. Mavis was terribly embarrassed about masturbating, not because of the act itself, but because it seemed to imply that she could not get a cock of her own. Acting as nonchalantly as possible under the circumstances, with her pussy still flowing into her hand, she opened the cash register with her left hand. Brian stood close behind her, looking over her shoulder.
"Not much business today, eh?" he inquired.
"Times are hard," said Mavis.
And something else was hard, too, they both soon realized.
She felt it against the inside of her thigh, hard as iron and hot as-well, hot as her cunt, in point of fact. She blushed even deeper. The hard rod slid upward. The leg hole of her bikini panties stretched out and a smoking cockhead snuggled into her creamy slot. Mavis didn't know what to do or how to react, so she did the natural thing and opened her legs a bit wider.
Brian's peckerhead slid into her vertical slash.
Her right hand was still cupped over her mount of Venus, and her fingers trailed into her crotch. She could feel his prick as it began to slowly slither up her slot. Mavis had felt enough stiff penises in her life, and she had no doubt what it was.
Jesus, she thought, he might have asked, first.
But then she realized that it might have been embarrassing if he had asked her permission, since he was her boss and all, and that maybe he had chosen the right approach, after all. She pushed her firm ass back against his belly and her hips began to churn. He was still regarding the cash drawer over her shoulder, but his big hands clamped into her hipbones as if they were handles.
He ran the full length of his cock up her cunt.
Neither of them moved for a moment as they both savored the full penetration. Mavis was stuffed full of prick.
Who would ever have thought that Mister Hammond had such a lovely big prick? she thought.
Her slippery pussy was starting to clamp around his meatpole, clutching him like a velvet vise.
He had never realized that mere counter clerks were possessed of such adorable cunts.
Then he began to fuck her with vigor.
His ass corkscrewed as he dove the meat in to the hilt, burying himself balls-deep with every stroke. Mavis met him with equal effort, in counterpoint, pushing her pussy down as his schlong surged in and rolling her hips from side to side as he withdrew. His bloated nuts were whanging into her crotch. She worked her ass against his belly. Her hand was already between her legs so she got a handful of balls, squeezing gently, as if eager to coax the cum out of them. Cunt sauce was pouring out of her hole now, soaking his prong in a foaming flood. Brian began to moan and, feeling his cock expand inside her, Mavis realized that he was ready to shoot his boiling load. Normally, she would have resented such a fast fuck, almost a premature ejaculation, but since she had been all set to cream all by her lonesome, on her hand, she had no objections. She purred and whimpered.
Her pussy melted around his prick like a wax candle around a hard, flaming wick.
Brian unleashed his hot wad straight up into her loins in a steaming rocket, and when she felt the hot jizz splash into her, Mavis wailed and creamed a second time, going off like a machine gun.
He humped away until he was totally drained.
Then he held rigid, his cock still stuffed up her box, while she ground against him, working off the terminal spasms of her own orgasm and milking the last drops of sex juice out.
Then they both stood still.
After awhile, he drew his diminishing meat out of her twat. It came out with a slurp, semi-hard now, jutting out in a wide parabola from his soaking trousers. The head bobbed left and right like a horizontal pendulum, as if uncertain whether to rise or fall.
Mavis still had a handful of balls.
They had collapsed now, like deflated balloons.
She released him and he stepped back a pace.
"Well, the till seems right," he commented. Mavis looked over her shoulder. Hammond had a sheepish grin on his face as he was tucking his spent pecker back into his fly.
Mavis gave him a smile.
"Anytime you want to check the till, Mister Hammond, you just feel free to do it," she told him. Mavis was a girl who always welcomed deposits in that carnal cashbox between her shapely legs. It occurred to her, too, that she might ask Mister Hammond to give her a raise in pay if she was going to have overtime duty. But she didn't want to mention it at the moment; Mavis was no whore.
Hammond said, "I may want to check it again, after lunch.", "It'll be right," she assured him.
He returned to his office and Mavis turned back to the counter, no longer bored in the slightest. This job had benefits that she had not foreseen, and Mavis was in a cheerful mood.
She was so satisfied, now, that she didn't even feel envious of the blonde who had been given a jackpot ticket-in return, no doubt, for plenty of pussy.
Mavis didn't give her another thought.
Nor was there any way for Mavis to know what a remarkable chain of events she had set in process when she sold that jackpot ticket.
It was going to turn out a winning ticket, in fact.
But there was a lot more to it than that....
CHAPTER ONE
Tony Jones had a big prick.
It was even bigger than usual this morning because Tony had been thinking about women and about what he would like to be doing to a woman. His cock was standing rampant, hard as iron and as hot as a heated crowbar.
He was stretched out naked on the bed in his one-room apartment, on his back, with his long, fat dong sticking up like a lighthouse from his loins, the knob glowing like a beacon atop the pillar of his nuts, bloated and filled with cum, like the rocky shoals below.
It was Sunday morning.
Tony usually managed to bring home a broad Saturday nights and thereby enjoyed many Sunday mornings of fucking and sucking, more leisurely than the frantic screwing of an evening. He was a good-looking dude, tall and lean and athletic. Those attributes, combined with the grand size of his cock, made it relatively simple for him to get laid.
But the night before he had been indecisive. He had vacillated, unable to decide which of the three available girls he would pick up-a redhead with huge knockers, a brunette with heavy lips that just cried out for a mouthful of dick and a bleached blonde who, although not as pretty as the other two, was well-known for her ability to milk a prick bone-dry in manifold ways.
Tony had shifted back and forth among the threesome, buying them drinks in turn and making suggestive comments. Each time he bought a drink for one of the girls, he had one himself, of course, to be sociable.
He had gotten very drunk.
At closing time, groggy and stumbling, he realized that all three females had left with other men.
He was too soused to really care very much, so he staggered home solo.
He fell asleep instantly, and his last waking thought was that it was just as well that he had not brought a woman to his bed; the gambit would have failed miserably for him as a lover and done untold damage to his reputation.
But when he awoke in the morning, hung over and sporting a gigantic hard-on, he regretted his mistake very much. When he had a hangover, he was always horny as hell. He was also able to perform for a long time before he shot his wad-perhaps because his pecker was numbed by alcohol-and could enjoy a lingering fuck that delighted him and usually drove his partner to a state of ecstasy and multiple orgasms.
Now, alone on the bed, he gazed ruefully down at his huge horn and wished that he had somewhere to stick it. It was really massive this morning, as big and hard and hot as he had ever known it, with his spunk stored up instead of having been emptied into some pussy the night before.
The head was glowing, incandescent with lust. It throbbed and pulsed like a lung inhaling desire, longing for a hot, wet pussy to clamp around its length.
The stalk was thick and seamed with a dark ventral vein running from his bloated testicles to the bi-valved knob and rushing with lust-excited blood.
His balls were like over-inflated balloons, hard as rocks and filled with gism.
"Damn," he muttered.
It was a terrible shame to waste such a magnificent boner, both for his own sake and for the sake of numerous women of dubious morality who would have jumped at a chance to fill their cunts with that meat pole.
Tony figured he had two options.
He could grit his teeth and bear the burden of his erection and go out looking for a girl.
Or he could jerk-off.
He considered the two possible courses of action, gazing at his cock as he did so, as if he might find the solution reflected in the gleaming purple knob like a witch doctor reading the runes in the entrails.
His prick throbbed, flashing like a heliograph, pulsing like the monolith in 2001-A Space Odyssey, but his mind couldn't manage to interpret the message-Does my cock want the instant relief of my hand, or is it telling me to bide my time until I can find a steaming pussy in which to sheath it?
There were problems inherent in either course of action, he knew. Since it was Sunday, the bars and lounges would not be open until noon and, therefore, his hunting grounds would be limited to the park and coffee shops. It always seemed harder to pick up a horny girl when he could not ply her with a few drinks first.
There was also the problem of his hard-on, a factor in itself, for he knew that it would stick out in bas relief in his pants, and, possibly, cause him some embarrassment if he took it out for a walk.
The problem with jacking-off was more direct-he didn't like to do that. It felt good when he came, but he always got bored during the pumping, especially when, with a hangover, it took him ages to get-off.
If he had a telephone he would have called some woman, but his phone was disconnected.
He had had a girl living with him up until a month before, a very sexy girl named Belinda, who had kept him quite satisfied. But along with her talents in bed, Belinda also had a talent for making long-distance phone calls. When Tony received a telephone bill for six-hundred dollars, he decided that he didn't really want a telephone cluttering up his tiny apartment anyhow. He had left the bill unpaid and Ma Bell had responded by leaving him phone-less.
Thinking about Belinda, he got even more horny, for she had really been a spectacular piece of ass.
He did not even resent what she had done to his communication system, because when she left, not having the money to pay the bill, she had given him her car, which he had sold for eight-hundred dollars, showing a profit. But by then the phone had been disconnected and he'd not gotten round to having it hooked up again.
This was the first time he regretted not having a telephone and, along with that, he regretted the fact that Belinda had left. They had parted as friends. Belinda was a dancer-not too good, but so sexy on stage that she had no trouble getting work-and had gone off to work in a nightclub in Boston. Not being a Red Sox fan, Tony would not go with her, even for the favors of Belinda's steaming snatch.
Now he thought about her and his prick thundered violently. With so much blood rushing into that big stalk, Tony began to get lightheaded.
He sighed sadly.
There was nothing for him to do but beat his meat, he decided, wasteful as that was.
He reached for his dick with a trembling hand.
And the doorbell rang....
"Who in hell is it?" he called out.
He didn't want to get up and go to the door. If the caller was a man, or his landlady, his hard-on would be an embarrassment, far too big to be secreted in his dressing gown. And if it was a girlfriend come to call, he figured that he might as well stay right where he was; that was where she was liable to want him to be and where they would wind up with very little delay, in any case. "Tony?"
It was a girl's voice, and it sounded familiar. But with the voice distorted through the door, he wasn't sure.
"Yeah!"
"It's Belinda," she called.
Tony's eyes lit up and his pecker thumped mightily with anticipation.
"The door's open!" he shouted, the excitement he was feeling evident in his voice.
Belinda opened the door and stepped in.
"I'm so glad you're still here," she said. "I tried to call you, but when I learned that the phone had been disconnected I thought maybe you'd moved...."
Tony was not moving at all-except for his prick, which was writhing and banging away like a jackhammer.
Belinda had turned to close the door.
Turning back, she started to say something further and then paused when she saw that Tony was on the bed, naked and erect.
"Oh! " she gasped.
Tony grinned.
"I was just thinking about you," he said. "You were obviously thinking about something...."
She smiled, standing just inside the door. Looking at her, Tony found himself lusting for the girl even more than he had when he remembered her. She was every bit as desirable as his memory had told him.
She was tall, her legs long, her body supple.
She wore a black leather skirt and a white blouse. The hem of the skirt left plenty of shapely thigh on display, and the blouse was unbuttoned at the neck so that her deep ivory cleavage could be viewed.
She had long blonde hair, streaked by the sun so that it flowed in hues of amber and gold as it cascaded to her shoulders. Her face was oval, with high cheekbones, her eyes green, her mouth sensual. That mouth was turned up in a smile at the moment, a smile that showed both interest and amusement. Those green eyes, glinting like moist emeralds, studied Tony's big, hard dick with open speculation.
She ran one hand up her flank in self-caress.
Her tongue slid across her lower lip.
Tony said, "I thought you were in Boston?"
He was not at all embarrassed to be found with a boner, for he was self-confident and proud of his prick and, anyhow, Belinda had seen it plenty of times in the past. "I came back," she said. "And a timely visit it was."
"So it would appear."
"Five minutes later and it would have been too late," he told her.
"Oh? Were you going out?"
"No, I was just about to jerk-off."
That idea fascinated the sexy girl.
"What a shame if you had," she lamented.
She moved closer to the bed.
"Shall I join you?" she asked.
Her fingers were toynig with the buttons of her blouse. She stood with legs parted.
"That's a good idea," retorted Tony.
Then, grinning wickedly, he added, "Forgive me for not standing up ... but I'm afraid that my cock is too heavy to lift, at the moment."
She laughed at that conceit-but her laughter was tinged with feelings other than amusement.
She said, "If it's too heavy to lift, maybe I should sit on it?"
Tony nodded; his dick throbbed.
Belinda began to unbutton her blouse.
As she removed her clothing, she spoke to him, knowing full well that words could be every bit as erotic as visions and physical contact.
"I came on the bus," she said. "I hoped you'd be home ... alone. I've been thinking about you all the way here, and my pussy got so hot and creamy that I couldn't stand it. I was squirming on the seat and my cunt was making moist, squishing noises ... I'm sure everyone on the bus knew that I was creaming my panties. I even started to pant."
She shrugged her blouse from her shoulders.
She wore no brassiere. Tony had never known her to wear a bra, and doubted that she even owned one. Nor did she need one. Her tits stood out, firm and round, needing no support. The globes rolled together to form a deep cleavage as they thrust out from her slender torso, and her nipples were so big and stiff that they looked like little rockets about to blast off from the areola launching pads.
"There was a young man sitting in the seat across the aisle from me," she was saying. "When he saw how I was squirming and panting, the front of his trousers rose up just like a tent around a pole. He must have had a cock almost as big as yours, Tony. Not quite, though. And that made me hornier than ever, knowing how hot and horny I was making him. Vanity, narcissism, whatever ... I always feel sexy when I know a man is lusting for me. If...." she paused, with a demure smile and a naughty gleam in her eyes " ... if there hadn't been lots of other people on the bus, I could have gone over and sat beside him," she said. Tony groaned.
"I would have put my hand on his cock," she said.
She was fingering the zipper at the side of her black leather skirt, pulling it down a few inches, then drawing it back up, taking her time and tantalizing Tony as she prolonged her disrobing.
"I might have given him a handjob right there on the bus," she said, her voice husky. "Or ... I might have gone down on him; I might have sucked his cum right on the Greyhound bus...."
Tony moaned, almost in a whimper.
He knew that she was saying those sexy things to excite and arouse him-but he also knew, knowing her, that such a thing was quite possible. Even when she'd lived with him and he had been giving her plenty of prick, she had still managed to cheat on him a few times that he knew about.
He also figured that maybe she had really done it. But he didn't give a damn what she had done on the bus, just so long as there was some loving left for him.
She said, "But I'm glad I didn't ... now that I've found you ... like this...."
She dropped her skirt.
She wore black bikini panties, very brief, so that a few wisps of golden pubic hair curled out from the crotchband ... and that crotchband was plastered to her crotch by cuntal juice, damp as a dishrag and glued to her quim by lust.
She hooked her fingers under the waistband. She snapped it, delaying again.
She said, "I had to take the bus, Tony. That old car I left with you...."
Tony was in no condition to discuss automobiles.
"Later, baby," he croaked.
"Umm," she said.
She pushed her panties down, her pneumatic rear end and supple hips squirming out of them. She stepped from the underwear and left it on the floor, like a black butterfly whose wings were too damp to fly.
Naked, she moved up to the bed.
She stared down at his towering prick.
"Oh, that looks so good," she sighed.
Her thighs were parted. Gazing up from the bed, Tony could see her gash. She pushed her pelvis slightly out, giving him a better view. Her cunt lips were unfurled like the petals of a fleshy, pink flower and the open slot was flooded with creamy sex juice. Her clitoris was erect and tingling, thrusting out from the thick sauce that filled her hole.
"I can't decide whether I want to sit on it or take it in my mouth," she whispered.
She fitted her movements to her words, pushing her hips out when she spoke of perching on it and sliding her pink tongue across her parted lips as she speculated about the sucking of that massive meat pole.
"We have all day ... don't we?"
A look of hesitation passed over her countenance for a brief, fleeting moment. Tony realized that there was something on her mind ... that she had not taken the bus all the way from Boston just to ball him. But he figured there would be time to find out what she was after later. At the moment, he could concentrate only on her lush bod.
"Yes...." she answered softly.
Standing beside the bed, her legs spread, she bent over from the waist as though she were going to touch her toes. Her head came down. Her golden hair brushed over his lean belly and the tresses swept across his swollen ballsac. Her face approached. Her tongue came out.
She licked the fiery head of his dong.
Leaning over farther, she took it into her mouth and sucked on the meaty slab, her cheeks hollowing in as they pulled at the tasty nugget. She sucked for a moment, then pulled away, her oral cavity making a slurping noise as it dragged off his cockhead.
"Ahhh ... do it...." he rasped.
"Later, honey," she whispered. "I want to ... it tastes so good ... I want to suck your delicious meat and swallow your thick hot spunk ... but first I want to fuck...."
Tony could not argue with that priority.
Belinda knelt beside him.
Her plump tits swayed; he could see a ribbon of cuntal juice trickling down the inside of her thigh.
She moved her leg across, straddling his thighs.
Her face had become a mask of pure lust now-eyes narrowed, lips parted, nimble tongue switching back and forth. Her tits heaved with her labored breathing.
She sat back on her heels, astride his thighs, so that his towering schlong rose up in front of her belly. She squirmed a bit closer. His bloated balls jammed against her mount of Venus so that it looked as if his probe was part of her body, as if she were androgynous, possessed of both a cock and cunt, balls and breasts together.
She began to move her hips from side to side, working her vulva against his penis and nuts. Taking his shaft in her hand, she pushed it against her smooth belly and writhed against it. His prick was so hot that it felt like a branding iron, searing her flesh, while her pussy steamed against his thighs, soaking them with the lava of lust.
Tony whimpered, almost in torment-enjoying this preliminary contact but eager to get on with it, to have his dick buried up inside her hot snatch.
Holding his erection against her belly, she thumbed the knob and rubbed the sensitized delta where the thick, veined stalk merged into the flaring head.
His cleft parted. A trickle of pre-seminal fluid oozed out and ran sluggishly down the knob and onto her taut stomach.
"Oooh...." she purred.
She licked her lips as she gazed down at that thick flow of savory jizz. Her mouth was watering for his whang and her taste buds were tingling for his sperm.
But her pussy was even more demanding.
Tony reached up and cupped her firm tits in his hands, kneading and massaging the globes and working his thumbs back and forth across the stiff tips.
He began to hump up from the mattress, ramming his spike up and down across her groin, bouncing her slender weight upward as he thrust.
Belinda moved higher up his prostrate body.
Her thighs tightened and she raised her crotch up, settling over his prick. She folded her fist around the root and began to stir his cockhead around in her open cunt, using it like a spoon to caress the bowl of her desire, a ladle to churn her sex juice to a heavy cream.
She cupped his balls in her other hand.
Tony stopped humping and held his body arched and rigid, his butt lifted from the bed, waiting for Belinda to initiate the act.
Her gash was flooding juice, and it ran down his stalk and onto his belly and testicles.
The head of his wand had started to smoke.
She braced herself as he whimpered wordlessly, urging her to descend onto his cock.
She was savoring the last moments before they coupled.
Then she began to fuck him....
CHAPTER TWO
Belinda lowered her crotch onto his towering cock, going down slowly, taking him into her cunt inch by inch until she had buried his whole massive prick up her hole. Her twat was stuffed full of dickmeat and the labia sucked on his belly and balls, stuck to him like a limpet.
She held that full, deep penetration for a long moment, thrilling to the wondrous feeling of being brimful of seething prick and letting him savor the joy of having every inch of his vibrant cock buried in her hot pussy.
Then she began to ride him.
Her thighs tensed, lifting her snizz up his shaft until only the head remained stuck up her hole. Her cuntal lips sucked on that swollen slab.
Then she went down again, all the way, feeding his stiff staff to her box to the very root.
Tony fell into the rhythm.
He humped up from the bed as she came down, then drew his loins back as she rose up, so that they were gliding with one another in a counterpointal tempo. Her twat was well oiled by her juices, making their bodies slide together fluidly. But then she began to work her cuntal muscles. Her pussy clung to him, clutching, the concentric rings tightening in sequence up his stalk so that it felt as if she had a hand inside her vagina, masturbating him inside her belly.
His cock was so hot that it hissed as it ran up her wet hole, like a red-hot iron dipped in a tub.
Her head switched from side to side, her golden hair cascading around her face; she bit her lower lip; her eyes closed, fluttered open and closed again as she was swept along on the tide of passion. She shifted slightly, positioning herself so that the full length of his dick ran over her fiery clitoris as he plowed up her sexual depths.
Tony plunged up with vigor, banging the dork to her, his balls jamming against her crotch and ass, his belly slapping against her mount of Venus. His great schlong filled her chock-a-block full so that it acted like a pump, pumping the cunt juice out of her and soaking his belly and thighs and balls with the overflowing jizz.
Belinda began to moan and whimper.
Whatever the reason for this visit, she had not deceived him when she told him she had been horny, as that was highly evident. Her pussy was melting around his pork like a wax candle around a burning wick.
"I'm coming...." she gasped.
He felt her pussy cream.
The flow washed over his nuts and seeped down between his legs in a sticky pool.
She gasped and faltered; her movements became erratic for a moment and a contented smile shifted on her lips. Then, without pausing or disengaging for a moment, she began to ride his prick with renewed vigor.
One orgasm had only whetted her appetite.
Tony was glad that he had a hangover that would prolong his own climax.
His hands slid down from her jugs and clamped over her hips, holding them as if they were the handles of her pelvis, moving her from side to side so that they were corkscrewing together and her hole was twisting around on his stalk like a soft, velvet wringer.
She leaned forward and her face came to his; they kissed, lips brushing together, then parted as she stabbed her heated tongue into his mouth.
He sucked on it lovingly.
When her tongue withdrew, his own licker followed, slipping into her mouth and intertwining with hers like two serpents mating in a moist cavern.
She came again, panting right into his mouth.
Then she rose again, arching her back and thrusting her belly and tits out and continuing to ride his prick, her ardor not at all diminished by her climax.
Tony began to gasp as his own orgasm built toward the heights. His balls were threatening to explode and his cock had swelled up so much that it seemed as if he might push her hipbones out of joint ... it was driving so far up her insides that he would not have been surprised to see the purple head come out of her mouth.
Sensing that his climax was fast approaching, the oversexed blonde began to corkscrew down on his dong with renewed effort, humping faster and faster, her juicy ass fairly flying up and down as he fed prick to her pussy and shoveled the load up her like a stoker to a furnace.
"Come!" she wailed.
Her cunt drove down, clutching and sucking at his joint, wringing and pulling and dragging along every inch of his smoking dick as she sought to bring him off.
"Come ... come in me ... I want to feel your hot gism spurt into my womb...."
Tony grated his teeth. His eyes rolled wildly from side to side and his chest heaved up and down in tempo with his humping haunches.
Cupping his swollen balls, Belinda squeezed, as if she wanted to force his cum out by the pressure.
Tony howled like a beast in torment.
He drove up frantically, slamming his meatpole into her gash as his testicles erupted. The thick sap rushed up his log and burst volcanically from his cockhead.
"Ohhh!" she wailed, feeling that thick, hot geyser fill her quim.
She started to come again, her cuntal juice gushing out to mix with his spunk.
Long waves of lust passed across her belly and rushed up her trembling thighs, crashing together in the depths of her steaming twat.
She was going off like a machine gun, each electric thrill followed by another, each wave rippling upon the one before with such immediacy that they blended into one prolonged, sustained sensation of ecstasy.
Tony blew a second wad of his spunk up her hole, drew back, banged in and poured yet a third mighty load into her creaming cunt, coming with such dynamic force that her lithe loins were buffeted by his boiling jet, and his buns were jammed back into the soft mattress on the recoil.
His fourth spurt was weaker, his fifth was a mere trickle; his movements slowed, then ceased.
Belinda continued to writhe and squirm on his prick as she worked off the final spasms of her coming.
At long last, she was finished.
She looked down with a contented smile.
"Oh, I've missed your cock," she admitted.
She gave a tentative thrust of her hips.
Despite his mighty ejaculation, his penis was still standing like a firm tower up her hole.
That delighted the wanton woman.
She glided gently up and down on his dork, turning her hips so that her cunt slid around on it. Then she lifted up, raising her pussy off him. His pecker popped out and stood at attention.
Her snatch vacated, overflowed; love juice and gism pouring down her thighs.
She stretched out beside him, lower down, so that her face was opposite his hip. Folding her hand around his mighty manhood, she began to frig him up and down.
"Ummm," she sighed. "My cunt is satisfied ... but my mouth is watering."
"Yeah! Suck it, baby ... suck me off now...."
"Oh, I will ... I want to milk your sweet prick, Tony; I'm drooling for your jizz...."
But despite that avowal, she did not begin to use her oral cavern on him yet.
Frigging his prod gently, her yearning eyes fixed upon that big handful, she said, "There's something I want to ask you, Tony."
"Ummm?"
"That car I gave you...."
"Yeah?"
"Do you still have it?"
"Naw ... I sold it, honey; I got no use for a car, not living here in the city ... too much trouble finding a parking space ... I didn't think you wanted it back...."
She looked up at him. She looked distraught.
"Sold it? To whom?"
"Well, a used-car dealer. But why?"
"Oh, damn!"
"What is it, Belinda? You never said...?"
"I didn't know. Oh, dear...." she wailed. Then: "Do you think he still has it? The dealer?"
"Hell, I don't know."
"Could we go there and see?"
"Well, sure. Later ... but first...."
"But first I'm going to give you a lovely blow job," she said, smiling again.
Tony was glad that she had things in the proper sequence. He had no idea why she was so worried about the car, but she would no doubt explain that to him in due course. It could wait. He was ready for some gorgeous blonde head.
Reaching down, he stroked her cheek. His hand moved behind her head and pulled her face toward his whang.
Smiling, she let him draw her toward him.
"Promise we can look for the car after?" she asked.
At that moment, Tony would have promised that they could look for wild Indians. He nodded. Belinda smiled happily and turned her face toward his prick.
She did have another reason for visiting Tony.
But Belinda was not about to pass up a mouthful of dick no matter how urgent her reasons....
CHAPTER THREE
In fact, it had been Belinda's propensity for sucking on pricks that was indirectly responsible for her visit and her concern about her old car. It dated back some two months, to the time when she was still living with him, and it was a matter of such import that if she had told Tony the whole story, horny as he was, he would have forgotten all about the blowjob she'd promised in his haste to rush down to the used-car dealer and try to retrieve the car.
In a pinch, she thought, she would explain it to him truthfully ... but if she could keep it a secret, things might well be better. She wasn't sure how greedy Tony might turn out to be if he discovered the facts. If he would be content to help her with no questions asked, in return for the lay already rendered and the cocksucking about to be delivered, it would be all for the better.
This is what had happened:
Belinda had been booked for a weekend stand at a hotel cum nightclub in Providence two months before-one month before she got the semi-permanent gig in Boston. She had driven up to Providence, promising Tony to be faithful to him for the two nights that she would be away. Perhaps she had really intended to be chaste as well. Who can say? But on her first night, she met a handsome gentleman while having a drink between sets. He sent flowers to her dressing room and one thing led to another. She had gone up to his room with him.
They had necked and petted for a while, drinking champagne between gropes and, slightly tipsy and quite randy, Belinda had forgotten her promise of fidelity.
The gentleman ate her out, bobbing merrily up and down between her slick thighs, then fucked her with vigor and relish. She stayed the night. In the morning she awoke to find him with a hard-on, still asleep, and, having a seemingly perpetual taste for cock, she proceeded to suck him off as he slumbered and had a very wet dream.
The fellow had been so grateful to her for performing that oral act that, instead of terminating the affair as a one-night stand, he offered to buy her lunch. Already having had a bellyful of his delicious cum, she found that the tasty stuff acted as an appetizer. She was ravenous. He took her to a nice restaurant and wined and dined her. After lunch, in high spirits, they strolled back toward the hotel. On the way, they came upon the Rhode Island lottery office. He bought a ticket for himself and then, almost as an afterthought, bought one for Belinda. She didn't expect to win anything, but it was a nice gesture. In return, she blew him again before leaving for her dancing engagement, gargling his semen down happily.
Driving back home the next day, she opened her handbag to find her cigarettes and found the lottery ticket, as well. She figured it would get lost if she left it in her handbag, so she slipped it down into the pocket on the door, where she kept gas receipts, matches, roadmaps and tissues for mopping up gism when she had sex in the car.
She forgot about it.
She recalled the number of the ticket, however. Belinda had a good memory for numbers and could remember to the fraction of an inch just how long every cock she had ever measured was. With her memory trained by all those figures committed to it, it was only natural that she should retain the number of a lottery ticket, without really concentrating on it.
A month passed and she took the job in Boston, leaving her car with Tony in lieu of money to pay the phone bill-and with the car, the lottery ticket.
Another month passed, seeming like a year in Boston, but she was glad of the steady job, was paid well enough-for a girl who couldn't really dance very well-and received the attentions of quite a few of the local males.
Although Belinda was not a whore and would never take money in return for sex, she didn't mind if guys took her out for dinner or gave her costly gifts to go along with all the inches of prick they shoved into her box and all the loads of spunk that she milked from them.
Then she met another gentleman from Providence.
He had a sizable lump in his trousers and Belinda went to his room with him. He screwed her efficiently and, after he'd come, his cock got soft. Not satisfied with a single fucking, she waited for him to get stiff again, sitting beside him and frigging his semi-hard dick lazily. She happened to see a copy of a Rhode Island newspaper on the nightstand and began to thumb through it to pass the time until he was rampant and ready for more exciting events.
She glanced through several pages of advertising and local news. Then she saw the list of winning lottery numbers.
Her well-trained memory for numbers flashed; she looked down the list, mildly curious.
She blinked.
The number had stuck in her head just like the length of every pecker that had lodged there, and she cried aloud in amazement and excitement.
She had won one-hundred-thousand tax-free dollars!
She was so delighted that she gave the astonished Rhode Islander the best blowjob he'd ever had, milking his cock and balls so thoroughly that he thought his guts were going to come out along with his spunk.
And only later, as she wiped the gism from her lips, did she recall that she had left the winning ticket in her old car, in the pocket where she kept tissues to mop up cum....
She tried to telephone Tony Jones instantly.
His phone was disconnected.
A letter would take too long. She was desperate to get in touch with him and find out if he still had her car. She telephoned the club, telling them she had to visit her dying grandmother, and took the next bus out.
And that was why, with ulterior motives but enjoying the game along the way, Belinda wound up in Tony Jones' one-room apartment on that Sunday morning, her timely arrival coinciding with his need to unleash his wad.
After she'd fucked him, he was in fine humor ... and she reckoned that he would even be more agreeable after she'd added a blowjob to the balling. If she could locate the car without revealing her motives, it would simplify things, she thought; he was a nice enough guy, but a bit of an opportunist-he might demand a share of the money in return for helping her find the ticket or, worse, he might retrieve the ticket himself and cheat her out of everything. She didn't really think that he was that sort of fellow, but a girl could never be sure and should not allow herself to be blinded by the size of a man's cock, which, she had long ago discovered, had no apparent relation to his honesty or motivations.
What was motivating Tony at the moment was a burning desire to bury his big dick in Belinda's mouth and, although the girl was eager to get on with her quest for the lottery ticket, she was every bit as eager to have a feast of cockmeat which she would wash down, in the end, with a drink-on-a-stick, as Tony was to feed her that delicacy.
Curled on her flank, one thigh drawn up and her other leg extended down the bed, Belinda leaned over his belly and gazed at his penis, just as a gourmand would have gazed at a full spread on a table.
She licked her lips in anticipation.
Her eyes ran up and down his stout stalk and admired his bulging purple cockhead and looked with favor upon his bloated balls. She leaned closer. Her eyes crossed as her bifocal vision turned inward, making her look cockeyed. Her tongue slid back and forth across her trembling lips. Her lips turned outward a bit, as if they were doing warming-up exercises for the effort ahead, limbering up like athletes before a match.
Although she was looking forward to sucking his prick, she was in no hurry for the taste treat and, lingering over the warm-up, savored the expectation.
Tony removed his hand from her head, having guided her into position, and put both hands behind his neck, linking his fingers and shifting around to get more comfortable. He knew from past experience that he need do nothing now, that he could simply relax and enjoy it.
He looked down, watching the girl as she looked at his pecker. It was very erotic to see her lovely face hovering so close to the head of his schlong and to see how greedily she gazed down at her loins. Her fat knockers swayed, hanging down over his belly like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from the vine, while his dong stood up like some elongated vegetable grown to full bloom and ready for the table.
"Suck my cock," he whispered.
"Oh, yes," she said, needing no directions or urging. She leaned forward and down. Her mouth passed close to the head of his dick, but slipped to the side, not quite making contact; by passing his knob, she lowered her face to his nuts.
She intended to make a full-course meal out of his swollen sex tackle, licking his balls for an appetizer, sucking on his shaft and knob for a meat course and then drinking his jizz for a creamy dessert.
She began to tongue his testicles lovingly.
She placed one hand on his thigh and the other on his belly, as if holding him in place, framing his prick between her hands. Her licker glided over his balls with long, moist slurps, running over the contours and slipping underneath. She could feel his hard nuts shift inside the hairy bag as she lapped merrily away. Belinda had a great deal of respect for a guy's balls. Although they did not taste as good as a cockhead and did not fit so perfectly into her mouth, she respected them for their function-for their contents. It was from those hairy sacs that the creamy culmination would be delivered, and she pleased them accordingly, lapping them with her tongue and fitting her pursed lips to the swollen bag and sucking gently.
Tony began to squirm and wriggle and his cock, temporarily neglected, pounded lustily away beside her cheek.
Tilting her head, Belinda moved up from his testicles and ran her tongue all the way up his shaft from hilt to head with a long, flattening slurp.
Again and again she tongued the length of his stalk, her blonde head going up and down as her lapper traced along the pulsing ventral vein.
"Ummm," she sighed happily.
Her taste buds were tingling with the flavor of his hot, musky cockmeat.
His stiff staff was glistening with her saliva, and the cleft tip had begun to weep pre-seminal tears.
Belinda fitted her parted lips to the root of his shaft and began to slide her head up and down his rod, as if she were playing a skin flute.
"Yummy," she whispered.
She lifted his balls and tongued beneath them and along his crotch, then came back up to his pole. His hips were dancing and gyrating and his thighs were trembling. He was afraid he might blow his wad at any moment, shooting his spunk straight up into the air before the cocksucking blonde took it in her mouth, that he began to whimper. But he need not have worried, for Belinda was not about to let his succulent jizz go unswallowed and, hovering over his nut-sac with loving attention, she was closer than he was to the point where his ejaculation would begin; she would not linger too long.
She fitted her lips to the underside of his stalk and slid up again, this time going right up to the top of the knob, kissing the cleft and pushing her tongue right into the tiny opening. She licked up the milky drops that were flowing from his cleft, running her tongue all around his cockhead and gathering every drop of that precious fluid; letting it trickle over her taste buds for a moment and then swallowing it down.
The taste of that preliminary fluid made the horny girl ravenous for the full load to come.
She parted her lips over his dickhead and slowly pushed her head down, taking his knob into her mouth millimeter by millimeter. The whole big slab of his peckerhead slipped into her maw.
Her lips closed in a tight collar behind his cock-tip, clamped to his rod.
With just the front end of his prick in her oral cavity, she began to suck on the meaty nugget.
Her cheeks hollowed in, then blew out. She seemed to be trying to inhale his cock right down into her lungs.
The fat stalk stood out between them like a fleshy rivet, bolting his balls to her mouth ina carnal construction. She was drooling down that thick shaft, her saliva running down the rod and onto his belly and nuts. She sucked in and then blew out, her hot breath billowing down over his loins. His dickhead was drooling steadily now. She swallowed some of the creamy stuff; some of it escaped, overflowing her lips and running down his pole along with her saliva.
Then she began to move her head up and down, as though she were ducking for apples in a barrel.
She pushed down, sucking through every inch, taking almost all of his mighty prick into her pretty face. The fat knob lodged in her throat and she gagged, but never faltered for a moment. Her throat worked, fluttering, as if she were some strange, amphibious creature who could breathe manmeat as well as air. She drew back up, her lips dragging along his length until only the knob remained in her mouth, then went back down, going even farther this time.
His cockhead slipped right down her gullet.
She fed every inch of his prick to her greedy head, going down so far that her nose nestled into his wiry pubic hair and her chin brushed against his bloated testicles.
She began to bob up and down along his stalk with a steady motion, building the friction up by moving her lips and enhancing it by sucking as she bobbed.
Her tongue flashed back and forth against the underside of his knob and shaft as her head went high and low, then curled into an arch over which his prick rode en route to her throat. Her lips turned almost inside-out as she sucked. Tilting her head from side to side, she let his cockhead push into first one cheek and then the other, adding a new sensation, using every part of her mouth on him.
His knob was flowing heavily now.
As her lips dragged up his porker, silvery streams of cum and saliva ran down the rod. When she lowered her face, she slurped up those intermingled fluids and swallowed them, only to repeat the process on the next stroke.
Tony began to hump his rump from the bed as he fucked up into her face. Muscles were jumping along his thighs and his belly tightened up in readiness.
"Gonna come...." he gasped.
"Umphff...." she added, unable to articulate around the big mouthful of cockhead-but her meaning was clear. Her head began to bob faster now as she realized that his delicious load was almost ready to spurt into her mouth.
"Unghhh," she gasped as his fat, smoking, drooling cockhead jammed down into her throat.
And "Ahhh...." as her taut lips dragged back up the throbbing stick on the upstroke. Tony wailed in ecstasy.
Belinda's head went down to the base of his cock and, just as she took it all into her face, he blew his wad in a tremendous spurt, coming with such force that the girl's greedy head was rocked on the explosively-great geyser.
Her mouth was filled to the brim with gism.
She gulped the joy juice down ravenously, making room for more-and just in time as he hosed her throat with a second massive dose of semen.
Again she swallowed furiously.
Some of the creamy sperm overflowed from her lips and poured down his meatpole. She jammed her mouth down after it, not wanting to miss a single drop. He shot again, whitewashing her tonsils with the silvery fluid.
Drained, he sank back into the soft mattress, his whole long, lean body quivering.
Belinda continued to pull and suck on his prick until she was sure that she had milked out every drop, that not a single bit remained in his balls, not a solitary dribble lurked in his cockhead. She had already swallowed most of it. A little remained in her oral cavity, squishing around her teeth, dripping like sticky stalactites from the roof of her mouth, sliding around her cheeks like glistening oil. She didn't drink that down, for she loved to have the taste of cum linger in her mouth as long as possible following a blowjob.
She pulled her lips away from his gleaming prickhead and used her tongue to gather up the drops that had escaped onto his hairy balls.
Then she looked up, smiling happily.
"Now," she said, "About that car...."
CHAPTER FOUR
"What in the hell is so important about the car?" Tony inquired as he got dressed. He was tucking his penis into his fly as he asked the question. It had gone soft now following his two orgasms, but even in that state it was an impressive hunk of meat. It looped down like an elephant's trunk in front of his thighs as he pushed it into his pants.
Belinda was pulling her panties on. They had dried out by now, but her crotch was still wet and slippery. But when she drew them up, they got damp all over again, molding to the contours of her crotch.
"It's a secret," she retorted.
"It's only an old Pontiac...."
Tony shrugged.
"If we don't find it ... well, I'm going to be very unhappy. I'll probably be so unhappy that I won't feel like giving you another blowjob for a long time...."
"We'll find the damn thing," said Tony.
Bill Silva's used-car lot was only a few blocks away, so they walked there. It was nearly opening time for the taverns by now, and hung over gentlemen were staggering toward their local bars and saloons and not a few of them looked appreciatively at sexy Belinda as they passed. Although she had no interest in them-not at the moment at least-she had enough narcissism in her nature so that whenever she noticed a man looking at her, she swung her ass like a pendulum and thrust her tits out and smiled, greatly appreciating their appreciation.
"I hope he's open on Sundays," she said as they drew near the place.
"Yeah, Silva won't ever pass up a chance to sell a car," Tony joked. "He's always open."
Tony pointed out the lot across the street. Banners and flags flew over it, and the office was a small, whitewashed building with a garage attached. There, Silva's mechanic could get a used car in condition to run, at the very least, out of the premises. Silva sold his cars as is, and never gave a refund. But he was always embarrassed, to his credit, when one of his cars broke down before it had reached the driveway.
They looked from across the street.
A dozen secondhand cars sat on the lot, the prices marked on the windshields with a grease pencil.
Belinda's Pontiac was not among them.
"Oh, dear...."
"He must have sold it."
"Maybe we can trace it to the new owner."
"It's that important, huh?"
"Yes, it sure is."
"Well, we can ask him...."
"Errr ... maybe I'll have more luck dealing with him if I go in alone," Belinda said.
Tony looked at her, then shrugged.
"Suit yourself," he said.
He looked around. A sordid bar with grimy windows was just opening its doors down the street and he pointed it out and said, "I'll wait for you in there."
Belinda crossed the street.
Tony watched her delicious behind sway as she moved, shook his head, wondering what this was all about, figured it was well worth his while if he got another blowjob or two out of it, and walked on down to the bar.
Bill Silva was short and wide.
He fancied himself a ladies' man, which was strange, because he had never had a lady, except for his wife, and she was no lady. In fact, she was so ugly that no one except Bill had ever had her, either. But it was not strange that Bill had no success with women; he was an unsightly fellow with an unfortunate personality, usually referred to as a creep ... especially by anyone who had bought a used car from him.
He was bald up top, but compensated by growing his hair long at the sides and sweeping it over, which fooled no one but himself. His ears stuck out, and out of them stuck thick tufts of bristly hair. Other tufts stuck out from his nose, which was bulbous and so traced with red veins that it looked like a roadmap. He sported a carefully trimmed moustache, Clark Gable-style, but no one knew this because the hairs from his nostrils covered his moustache completely.
He always wore plaid or checkered sports jackets and hand-painted neckties with a nice, big, plastic tie pin stuck through them to hold them neatly in place.
Bill did have one attribute that might have made him attractive to women.
He had a fat cock.
It wasn't inordinately long, but it was one of the thickest pricks in town. It was almost broader than it was long. Yes, this might have interested the odd women, had they known. But Bill had never gotten far enough with a girl to have her look at his prick. And his wife-no fool, she-had never told him that his cock was out of the ordinary. She had never seen another real live penis, it is true, but she was a lewd and lusty woman who often perused pornographic pictures, so she was a fair judge of prick despite her inexperience.
She also had a monstrous muff.
Because she had started at an early age, shoving whatever tubular object was at hand up her snatch, she had developed a cavernous twat. Bananas, sausages, pogo sticks and Bullworkers had been thrust up her pussy, so that her hole was perfectly suited to her husband's wide dong. That's why they fitted together like the interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They might have had a splendid love life had they not both been so unsightly that they literally gagged while fucking.
She had also used her Bullworker in the more expected way, developing gigantic muscles, with which she often tossed Bill around the room.
So Bill, all things considered, was delighted when he saw the gorgeous blonde walk onto his used-car lot.
He straightened his hand-painted necktie and plastered a salesman's grin across his mouth.
"Looking around for a good used car, lady?" he queried as she approached his office.
"I'm looking for an old blue Pontiac," she said.
Bill blinked. Most of his customers were not quite so specific.
He said, "I got an old green Chevy ... that's almost the same thing."
"No, I want a specific car."
Bill was looking at her boobs, admiring the way the nipples poked out against the material of her blouse and thinking that General Motors had never made bumpers like that, even in the good old days.
Belinda noticed his interest and smiled. She wanted his help. She arched her back so that her tits thrust out toward his bulging eyes.
She said, "About a month ago you bought a blue Pontiac from a fellow named Tony Jones.
"Yeah, I remember."
"That's the car I want."
"Sorry, lady ... it's already sold."
"Damn," said Belinda
"If I'd known you was coming, I'd of kept it for you. But I sold it the same day I bought it," he recalled.
"Could you...." she smiled fondly upon him " ... please give me the name and address of the new owner?"
"Well, I don't know as how that's ethical," commented Bill, who knew the word well, having heard it in court countless times when he had been sued for selling lemons. He said, "A used-car salesman is like a priest, sort of, or a lawyer ... things like that are privileged information."
"Please...."
Bill figured that if she couldn't find the car she wanted, she might take the green Chevrolet off his hands.
"Can't do it, lady," he said.
"I'd be ever so grateful...."
Did she mean....
Naw, she couldn't mean that, he thought inwardly.
"I got my reputation to think of," he said. Belinda thought fast.
"You're lucky," she claimed. "I don't have a good reputation myself. That's because I screw a lot."
Bill gulped. Belinda looked sad.
"I even screw ugly, bald guys," she said.
But Bill didn't know he was ugly and, although he knew he was bald, he didn't think that anyone else had noticed because of the way he wore his-uh-hair.
He frowned.
"Not that you're ugly," she quickly added.
"Well, now...." Bill was torn between a desire to help her and find out what form her appreciation might take and an equal desire to sell the green Chevrolet before it collapsed into a heap of rust on his lot.
"How come you want that car, anyhow?"
"It used to belong to me, you see, and ... it has great sentimental value...."
"Plenty of sentiment to a green Chevy."
"Yes, but...." she thought some more; she smiled demurely, averting her eyes. "I'll be honest with you," she said. "I gave my first blowjob in that car."
Bill almost fainted.
"You know how it is ... no matter how much cock a girl sucks, she always recalls her first mouthful...."
Bill hadn't known that at all.
He had never been given head. Not by his wife. Not by anyone.
His face twitched and his mouth quivered. "You better come into my office," he said.
Stalling, he looked through his sales records and, over the top of the ledger, at Belinda. Nuggets of sweat beaded his brow and his tongue flicked beads of perspiration from his heavy lips.
Belinda stood across the desk, her hips shot out, posing languidly and in a sultry manner. But she was puzzled.
Bill Silva had a hard-on, she could see that plain enough and very few boners ever escaped her eye. But it was the funniest-shaped erection she had ever seen. It was more like a solid block in his pants than a tube, a massive but truncated cylinder.
Belinda was curious to see what a cock that could make such a strange bulge might look like bared.
She wasn't bothered because Bill was ugly, either, for she had never been the sort of girl who was more interested in form than substance. In fact, in a nice distaff variation on what was usually a male theme, she had been known to claim that ugly men were better lovers because they were so grateful to get some pussy ... any pussy.
She slid onto the edge of his desk, letting her short skirt ride well up her shapely thighs. Sitting on one flank, she crossed that leg over the other. Her foot arched, her toe pointed; she rocked her ankle back and forth, slowly. Somehow another button had come undone on her blouse.
Bill's hands were shaking as if the sales ledger he was holding were a heavy burden.
"Are you looking?" Belinda asked him, ambiguously. He had stopped all pretense of examining the ledger, and was eyeing her with total concentration. He could see the contour of her right knocker as her blouse gaped open; as she shifted slightly, he glimpsed the taut nipple. Her skirt was up so far that he figured he would be able to see her crotch, if he could think of some reason to bend down.
He knew his aroused fascination simply had to be obvious to the woman.
Yet she didn't seem to mind at all.
She was smiling and shifting about as if responding to the visual caress of his eyes.
Of course, there was every chance that she was just a cock-teaser, one of those horrid women who liked to lead a man on and let him believe he could have her and then, when his pecker was ready to burst, turning him down. But if that was the case, it was too late for Bill to take measures to prevent it-for his cock was already as hard as it could get, and that was plenty hard. He didn't really figure he had much hope of fucking this beautiful girl, but he sure as hell had to give it his best shot.
Her foot swayed up and down.
He stared at it like a cobra looking at the swaying flute that was mesmerizing it, and then his eyes traveled up her long calf and up her trim thigh and he began to pant like a steam engine with the hot pressure that was building up in the boiler of his ball-bag.
How could he start?
How could he get his hot hands on her lusty body?
Bill was not an imaginative fellow, except when it came to imagining that people thought he had hair on the top of his head. But what little imagination he had was working overtime now, inspired by the vision of delight that was curled so erotically on his desk.
He said, "I can't really give you the name and address of the guy-who bought the car...."
Belinda frowned.
"It just wouldn't be ethical to do that...." He closed the ledger and put it down on the desk.
"However ... if you were to sneak in my sales book while I wasn't looking...."
Now Belinda smiled.
"Why, yes ... no one could blame you then, could they? If you didn't know...."
"If only I was distracted," he said.
"If a customer came to talk to you...."
"Yeah. Or if I was doing something else...."
"Why, yes...."said Belinda.
Bill gazed at her questioningly. Belinda, still smiling, inclined her head.
Bill came around from behind his desk, leaving the ledger where it was. He walked to ' the door of the office and pretended to be looking out. He was whistling through his teeth, a harsh, hissing sound, as if he were letting off steam via a safety valve. His hands were clasped behind his back. He heard the rustle of her clothing, the swish of her leather skirt against the desk.
He turned around.
Belinda had slid off the desk and was leaning over it. She had opened the ledger. Her black-leather-coated ass was thrust back and tilted up, and her legs were spread, drawing the skirt tightly across her thighs above the knees. Her jugs hung down over the desk.
Bill had never seen anything as inviting as that trim, taut behind swaying before him.
He moved up behind her.
He was still terrified that he had misunderstood, that she might reject him. But he knew that he had to act before she located the name and address for which she was looking. Holding his breath, he reached out and placed his trembling hand against the cheek of her ass.
Belinda shifted her weight, pushing her pert rear end against his hand.
Bill began to knead and massage her sweet tush, and her hips moved as if she were doing a slow dance. She was still looking through the ledger, but her attention had begun to waver; her head switched from side to side. She purred like a cat. Her blonde hair swept down over her boobs like a veil. He was fondling her ass cheeks with both hands now, standing close to her; pushing his hips forward, he brushed his hard-on against the back of her thighs.
"Ummm," she sighed.
Sweating and groaning, he moved one hand down, stroking the back of her knee, then slowly worked his way up her leg, rubbing the silky smooth flesh of her inner thigh as he delved up under her skirt.
He pushed his hand into her crotch, palm-up, cupping the plump, moist mound. His fingers closed, curling up over her mount of Venus, as if he were afraid she might snatch her beaver away. He intended to retain his grip at all costs. But instead of withdrawing, the oversexed blonde began to squirm happily on his hand. She was enjoying herself tremendously. She always liked to have a man play with her pussy, but usually she was so hot and wet that, requiring no foreplay, they got right on with the balling. Bill's tentative, uncertain approach was an extremely pleasant variation for her.
And her cunny was a joy to touch.
He squeezed it and rubbed it, feeling the heat of her loins seep through her panties. Those brief bikini bottoms were sopping wet. He ran his fingers along her parted slit, dragging the crotchband of her panties right up her hole. It felt so good that he just had to see it.
He lifted her skirt.
Belinda squirmed as he raised the hem above her hips, up to her waist, exposing her bikini-clad buttocks and crotch. He stared down at her for a moment, then hooked his digits under the elastic band and drew her panties down her delectable thighs. As he lowered the sexy undergarments, he sank down with it, kneeling behind her to remove it from her feet. She lifted each foot in turn so he could take the panties off.
Kneeling in that position, Bill's face was level with her crotch, gazing right up her steaming cunt.
The labia were parted so wide that they seemed to be turning inside out, and the inner flesh was streaked with ribbons of pearly pussy juice.
It looked so tasty that Bill simply had to have a little snack of twat sauce and more.
He leaned in and his tongue came out.
"Oh!" Belinda gasped.
Then: "Ooooh...." as she realized his intentions and felt his hot licker sweep up her slot.
She began to flip through the pages of the sales ledger furiously, wanting to get that business finished with so that she could concentrate on the pleasure of having her cunt munched without any distractions.
She found the name and address of the person who had bought her Pontiac.
She closed the ledger.
Bill heard the book shut and looked up, horrified, thinking that she might not want him to continue.
"Ooooh, don't you dare stop," Belinda whispered.
And Bill, who would rather eat out a snapper than anything except fuck one-or maybe sell that green Chevrolet-dropped his head back into her crotch.
He used only his tongue at first.
Lapping and laving, he tongued the frothy labia and slurped across the taut clit. Then he stabbed his hot tongue right up her love hole, tongue-fucking her furiously. This brought his lips in contact with her cuntal lips and he began to suck steadily. Sex juice ran over his licker and into his mouth, and he gulped it down ravenously.
His prick was screaming for attention, but he was so happy with a faceful of hot pussy that he ignored the demands of his penis as he sucked merrily away.
His tongue swept up in a long, fluttering slurp that laved her from love bud to sweet asshole. Pausing at the top of the stroke, he licked her anus, then pushed his tongue right up the taut nether hole, rimming out her warm rectum joyously while she writhed and moaned and humped against him.
He pushed his middle finger up her sex slot and began to finger-fuck her. Her twat lips pulled on him. He added his index finger, then began to shove all four digits up her at once, filling her pussy to the hilt. He was amazed at how tight she was. Sometimes he put both hands up his wife's huge snatch and clapped them together inside her.
Vaginal juice poured down his forearm and streamed down her widespread thighs as he finger-fucked her cunt and tongue-fucked her chocolate speedway.
He lowered his face to her crotch again and began to suck on her clitoris and cunt lips while he continued to shove four fingers steadily up her sex hole.
She started to climax.
Her pussy was flooding so heavily that he could barely manage to swallow it all; it was like draining some carnal crankcase, giving her an oil change-with the oil that was building up in his balls.
Her ass flashed; her thighs vibrated; he grasped her by the hipbones and tilted her crotch up as if it were a goblet he was draining to the dredges.
She shuddered and whimpered, then collapsed across the top of the desk with a happy, dreamy smile.
Bill sucked away until he was sure he had pulled every spasm of her thrill and every drop of her quim juice out of that tasty love box.
He emptied her cunt.
Now it was time to fill it up again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bill Silva swirled his nimble tongue around in her crotch like a whisk, giving that tasty twat a parting lick, and then stood up behind the well-sated blonde. She was sprawled out over the desk, her delectable behind hiked up, her thighs spread, her skirt still above her hips. For a moment, the horny used-car salesman merely looked at her, fascinated by the contours of her splendid body and thrilled by the expectation of mounting her; his tongue was satisfied and now his prick was fairly on the rampage in his pants, trying to rip through the material.
He yanked the zipper down.
Hearing the rasp, Belinda turned her face and looked back over her shoulder, wanting to see his cock before it disappeared into her twat.
She blinked.
Bill had hauled his fat tool out from his fly and Belinda was astonished by the bizarre proportions of that remarkable hunk of meat.
He opened his belt and let his trousers drop, exposing his whole three-piece set and, seeing that she was looking at him with concentration, he pushed his hips out toward her, putting his cock and balls on display as if it had been a mounted trophy, some stuffed head with a solitary horn.
His prick was of an average length but it looked stubby and truncated because of the incredible breadth of the stalk and knob. The great, mushroom-shaped crown was pulsating and starting to foam; the gnarled shaft writhed with readiness and his testicles looked as though they were about to burst.
"What a fat cock!" Belinda exclaimed in delight.
"Nice, huh?" he said, beaming with pride. "Very nice...."
"You want it, lady?"
She smiled by way of answer, thrusting her ass and pelvis higher so that her crotch was angled in position on the fucking platform of the desk.
Bill shuffled closer.
He wrapped his fist around his shaft, holding it like a baseball bat or truncheon, grasping it by the handle with the big head flaring out. Pushing his hips out, he directed his prick toward her cunt. The great knob was glowing; she could feel the phallic heat from his penis and nuts wash over her ass and haunches as if it were a fiery brand that he was holding out toward her.
Her cunt was just as super-heated.
Although she had just had a lovely climax in his face, she always liked to follow a lingual orgasm with some good fucking, and she was looking forward to being stuffed full of that incredibly thick, hard prick.
He placed the tip of his joint against her creamy, pink slot and ran it up and down. Her cuntal lips pulled on his knob, fluttering and slurping.
Bill pushed his cockhead into her pussy.
The big purple slab spread her labia wide as it slipped up into her sexual depths, filling her slot to the brim, like a peg fitting into a hole of exactly the right circumference. He paused for a moment, then rammed the whole length into her. His dork steamed up her center, and the randy blonde gave a little gasp of surprise, followed by a contented sigh, as she felt her va gina spread wide to accommodate that wide load. She didn't think she had ever been so full of cock on the first stroke; usually the initial stroke was fluid and easy, until she clamped her vaginal muscles down and out-lined the dimensions of the dong of the moment. With Bill's massive tool, though, there was no need to tighten her hole around the contours. He had spread her out to the limit, testing the elasticity of her pliable pussy thoroughly. Had his dick been a single millimeter fatter, she didn't think she could have managed it.
For his part, Bill was astonished to find that his was fitted snug and tight, gripped by her slippery gash as if in a vise. He was used to his wife's cavernous cunt ... he figured that Belinda would have a really tiny twat.
For a moment he just stood there, appreciating the sensation of having his pecker in a tight sheath.
Then Belinda began to move sinuously.
She pulled her crotch forward, then pushed back, turning her hips from side to side as she thrust. His cock was fitted so tightly up her snatch that, on the initial stroke, instead of sliding up her love hole and down on his shaft, she merely pulled his hips along with hers, his prick remaining buried. But then the fit loosened fractionally. When she moved in again, she pulled her cunt up his cock, then pushed down, sheathing it to the limit, drawing away until only the huge head remained up her slot, then slowly collaring him again.
He was standing still, his feet braced, so that she was masturbating him with her box.
She whimpered, "Fuck ... fuck me...."
Bill began to thrust into her, slowly at first, then with increasing vigor. His hard, hot pork slithered up her wet snatch like a poker into wet satin. His hands cupped her under the belly, lifting her beauteous buttocks higher as he plowed in. His balls swung like the clapper on a carnal bell, whanging against her crotch with a soggy sound. He poured the prod in with short, sharp jabs, then fed her a few long, rippling strokes. Then, he changed the angle and came in with an underslung lunge that bounced her ass on the upward penetration. Her slickened labia were being drawn and dragged outward as he pulled his massive prick out; as he plowed in, he stuffed those hairy twat lips right up her hole alongside his cock.
Belinda held still for a moment, letting him pound into her. Then she began to meet his thrusts, jamming her pelvis back as he banged in.
Cuntal juice emanated from her well-packed pussy, soaking his belly and thighs; ribbons of the creamy stuff poured down her crotch, soaking the edge of the desk.
A spurt of gism jetted from his cockhead as he pushed up her vertical slit, helping her cuntal cream lubricate the friction of their frantic coupling.
Belinda moaned when she felt that hot cum jet; like a catalyst, it started her own juices flowing even more heavily than before. Her hips spun wildly about, her dreamy rear end humped madly, she squirmed and writhed in ecstasy as he kept up the steady battering that was stuffing her twat so delightfully. The thrill was building up inside her. It swept across her loins, crashing with tidal force in her cunt.
Her pussy began to cream.
Bill felt her vagina turn to oil around his stalk; he plowed up the greasy channel with renewed force and speed, his belly whacking against her bottom and his balls slapping into her lower belly.
He leaned over her, bowing.
Then he threw his head and shoulders back, arching, so that his curved body touched her rounded backside only on the crucial point of contact.
His thighs had started to tremble, his entire body was vibrating and his prick was swelling up even further, stuffing her so full of fuck stick that she felt she was being gorged with the wonderful load.
Suddenly he stiffened.
His orgasm hit him so hard that, for an instant, he stood motionless as the sap started to rush up from his balls and boil into his shaft.
Then he shoveled the meat to her in wild abandon and his cum hosed her cunt with a mighty torrent.
Feeling his hot jizz pour into her pussy, the oversexed girl wailed and let her own climax arrive, her cuntal juice gushing out around his spurting cockhead in an oily maelstrom, a whirlpool of lust that was sucking her down into the swirling depths of ecstasy.
His huge cunt-reamer raked and hoed her pussy, pumping the pussy sauce out of her. Her twat worked on him like a velvet suction cup, milking him to the bone.
Spurt after spurt of milky lust gushed into her gash, and load after load of pearly pussy nectar seeped from the padded walls of her joy box and comingled with his male juice until her hole was seething with the lava of love. Loops and coils of cum lashed through sheets of twat juice; her crotch was frothy and foaming as the fluids poured out.
At last they were drained.
He pulled his fat plug out of her like a cork out of a bottle. The knob bobbed up and down like a counterweight on the softening shaft, as if undecided whether to go up or down-rising like a hot air balloon and hauling the stalk upright or falling like a plumb line.
Her crotch was so creamy that it looked as if she had been sprayed with shaving lather.
"Oh, that was so nice," she purred.
She slid off the desk; juice streaming down her thighs. Bill gallantly offered her his breast pocket handkerchief, but she spurned it; instead, she wiped off her cunt with her hands and then lapped the scum up with her tongue while Bill gasped at her in amazement.
"You have such a fantastically fat dick," she lauded as she lithely stooped to retrieve her panties.
"Want some more, then?"
"I'd love some more," she commented, drawing her panties up over her squirming hips. "But I really don't have any time, now, Bill. I have things to tend to. But ... I might come back and see you again, sometime...."
She smoothed her leather skirt down.
Bending over, she kissed the head of his prick-a light affectionate smooch, rather than an arousing one, as if thanking that broad hunk for the pleasure it had given her.
"Anytime," he said.
"We'll see."
"Anytime you need some fat prick...." he offered.
And then, being the businessman he was, he added, "Or a nice green Chevy."
CHAPTER SIX
Tony was sitting at the bar, waiting for Belinda and wondering what was taking her so long-for he had no idea that used-car salesmen had a code of ethics and privileged information like lawyers and doctors and had to be persuaded. But he knew Belinda, so he was a bit suspicious. He kept looking at his watch. He also kept glancing at a lewd woman who was playing the jukebox and dancing solo. It was a pretty sordid sort of bar and she seemed a fairly sordid sort of woman, not really the type that interested him. But she was pretty enough to draw his attention as she danced. She had huge tits that seemed to virtually leap out from her torso like cannon shells bursting from a double-barreled artillery piece. Her wide, pneumatic hips shot about as if they were disjointed. Her face was attractive, in a sensual fashion, with plenty of bright red lipstick and dark eye makeup. Her heavy mane of auburn hair fell in disarray as she jerked and spun and swirled to the beat of the music. She was quite obviously drunk and, from time to time, she lost her balance. But she wasn't a half-bad dancer, for all that. She wore a very tight sweater and designer jeans that fit so snugly that they might have been plastered onto her loins and haunches, the denim drawn up in a vee at her crotch and jutting out prominently over her protruding mount of Venus. She smiled at Tony.
She turned her back to him, thrust her rear end out and wiggled the cheeks of her ass in his direction, looking back over her shoulder at him and giving him a suggestive wink.
Tony sipped his beer, regarding her speculatively over the rim of his glass.
The bartender, a large fellow with plenty of tattoos, said, "That's Ellie. She bothering you? If she's offending you, I'll kick her out, if you like."
"Why, not at all."
"Oh. I thought maybe you was a snob or something. On account of you poured your beer into a glass instead of drinking out of the bottle, the way a real man does."
"Oh," said Tony.
He hadn't known that about real men.
The barman said, "Don't get me wrong. I like to have guys like you come in. You know, wearing a suit and tie and all. Guys like you give the joint a touch of class."
"Errr ... thank you."
"I knew you was a gentleman, soon as you walked in. I'll bet you ain't got a single tattoo."
"Why, no, as it happens."
"Long as you ain't gay. I don't serve no queers in here, gentlemen or not."
"Quite right," Tony agreed.
Ellie danced closer, wriggling and gyrating. Her hips were moving just as if she had a cock stuck up her cunt, a very erotic sort of dance.
"Ellie's a tramp," the bartender said.
"Yes, I can see that," Tony said.
"I don't object to serving tramps, though. They ain't like queers."
"Perhaps I should buy Ellie a drink."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," the bartender concurred, his suspicions about Tony's manliness allayed.
He poured out a whisky. Ellie took it en pas sant, dancing along the bar and sipping at the drink as she pranced about. She held the glass in her left hand, Tony noticed particularly, because the lusty woman had her right hand cupped over her crotch. In fact, he realized, she was giving herself a handjob, squeezing her fat quim and rubbing along the tight crotch of her jeans in tempo with the music. He observed this with interest, speculating on whether she would actually bring herself off on the dance floor and, if so, whether she would break stride when she climaxed.
She finished the drink and, gliding up to the bar, put the empty glass down.
He hesitated for a moment. But he sensed that the bartender was looking at him and figured that refusing to dance with the woman might be taken as a sign of queerdom. And those tattooed arms of the bartender's were mighty ones, well-suited to throwing deviates out of the place.
He decided he had better dance.
He took Ellie's hand and she led him away from the bar, then swirled, turning into his arms. A slow song was playing. She began to grind against him in the most sensual fashion, her belly molding against his and her meaty thighs pressing into his groin. She put both arms around his neck, looking into his eyes. Tony put his arms around her and cupped her taut, mobile ass, drawing her loins to his.
The bartender looked on with approval.
Tony began to get a hard-on.
He didn't want to, figuring it would be impossible to do anything with it and that it would only prove frustrating. But his cock had a mind and a will of its own and, massaged by that soft belly and those arching thighs, it swelled and hardened and carved its outline into her pelvis.
Her eyes widened.
Her red lips smiled lasciviously.
She maneuvered him toward the jukebox, which was at the back of the room, bubbling merrily away in the shadows. They continued to grind and pump, dry-humping together; she leaned in and placed her lips against his ear.
"You got a hard-on," she giggled.
"I realize that."
"A nice big one, too."
Her belly flowed over it, soft flesh rolling over the iron-hard pole.
She began to fumble with his belt.
Tony was aghast. He was afraid his pants would fall down, leaving him bare-assed in public. But the wily trollop merely loosened his belt a couple of notches, then buckled it up again so that, although the pants were slack around the waist now, they were in no danger of falling.
Then she unzipped his fly.
"I don't think...." he mumbled.
"Shh," she said. "No one will know."
The barman looked on, knowingly.
Ellie slipped her hand inside Tony's pants.
"Don't take it out, for crissake!" he squealed.
"Listen," she said. "Jack ... that's the bartender ... Jack will think you're gay if you don't let me take your dick out. You know what Jack does to gay guys? It ain't that I want to take your prick out or anything ... I'm only doing it for your own damn good, mister, that's all."
"Oh, I see," Tony muttered.
She had her hand wrapped around his cock and was pulling at it, trying to get it out. The big stalk had stuck inside his pants, and she was fumbling with it.
"But what does he do to guys who have their dicks out in the bar?" he asked.
"Oh, he don't mind that; he's used to it."
How could Tony argue with that.
Ellie hauled his pecker out with a triumphant squeal. The big knob and stout staff sprung up between them and the wanton dancing girl pressed her belly against it. She was not very tall, and his cock was long; with his balls jammed against her denim-clad vulva, the head rose up so high that it was brushing against the underside of her tits. Her belly rolled over it, her hips twisting sensually. They turned through a graceful circle, pivoting around his pecker like children dancing around a maypole.
Ellie pulled her sweater up.
She wore no brassiere and her naked knockers began to flow against him, nipples stiff and elongated. Tony shot a nervous glance over his shoulder.
Jack looked on with a smile and, seeing that he had Tony's attention, nodded approvingly.
What the hell, thought Tony. If he don't care....
He drew his hands from around her ass and cupped her big tits, pushing them together into deep cleavage and sweeping his thumbs across the hot, taut nipples.
Ellie sighed with pleasure.
She dipped her knees slightly, squirming, and his huge honker slid into her soft, warm cleavage.
"Move," she whispered. "Fuck my tits ... I love that...."
Tony glanced at Jack again.
Jack was moving, too.
He seemed to be mixing a drink in a cocktail shaker, for his hand was going up and down frantically, and it struck Tony as odd that he would be mixing a martini in a low-class place like this, especially since there were no other customers who might have ordered it.
Jack did, in fact, have a cocktail shaker in his hand.
But he was holding it upside down and what he was shaking inside it was his fat prick. Although professing to hate deviates of all sorts, Jack did not think that voyeurism was a perversion, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than jacking-off while he watched Ellie take some dick between her jugs.
He smiled at the dancers and his big, tattooed arm pumped vigorously up and down.
Tony began to hump against Ellie.
She dipped her knees as he thrust upward, then rose up as he drew back so they were gliding together in counterpoint, long stroking. She had dragged his nuts out along with his prick, and that cum-filled sac was rubbing against her lower belly while his enormous dick rubbed into her cleavage. The knob came down to her diaphragm on the downstroke, then pushed up so far that the purple tip came squeezing out of the top of her cleavage and nuzzled into her throat.
She gurgled merrily, delighted at having such a splendid schlong between her knockers.
The music ended.
Tony faltered, embarrassed at dancing without music, but then another, faster selection began to blare out of the jukebox and, fitting his actions to the beat, he began to hump her tits with rhythmic haste.
Ellie tipped her face down, resting her chin against her breastbone. Her pink tongue slid out. As the smoking head of his prick came squeezing out of the top of her deep mammary canyon, her licker fluttered against the tip.
"Come," she whimpered.
She had one thigh between his legs, the other pressed to his outer thigh, and she was working herself off that way, grinding her gash against his leg. He could feel the damp musk-scented heat of her crotch coming through both the demin of her jeans and the tweed of his trousers.
His cockhead began to bubble.
As he stroked up, the flowing knob laid a glistening track up her stomach and emerged from her cleavage with a coating of frothy spunk. Ellie happily lapped that froth up with her tongue, washing the front end of his prick so that it glistened with saliva as it slid back into her tit .crease, then came out with a new load of jizz seeping from the gaping cleft.
"Yummy," she sighed, letting the trickle of hot stuff run down her gullet.
Her hips began to jerk spasmodically as she creamed against his lean thigh.
Tony growled.
His cock came out from her cleavage and, just as it appeared from the soft white mounds, the head spurted a geyser of thick gism right up into her face.
Her lips parted and her tongue folded down.
His warm spunk skimmed over her lapper and shot right into her open mouth. She gulped it down as he pulled his probe back into her cleavage, then opened her mouth again as he plunged up and hosed her with another spurt.
Tony blew four or five geysers over her facial features and she worked her crotch against his leg and ground her own orgasm out to the finish.
Then she bent lower, took the head of his dick into her oral chasm and sucked it clean.
"Now that " she said with a happy smile, "is what I call dancing...."
Jack had been keeping pace with the dancers, and when he saw Tony's cum spurt into Ellie's eager face, his own dong went off explosively.
He filled his cocktail shaker with spent semen.
Sweating and weak-kneed, he leaned on the bar and, gracious host that he was, announced, "The drinks are on the house, folks...."
Tony and Ellie were seated at the bar when Belinda came in.
"What took you so long?" Tony inquired.
"Oh, I had to look through a lot of records."
"You find the car?"
"I found out who bought it," she said as she moved up to the bar and took the stool next to Tony. Ellie leaned out, big tits thrusting over the counter, to look at Belinda. Belinda noticed that the woman's lips were streaked with some sort of white stuff and that her lipstick was smeared.
Tony looked extremely innocent.
He said, "We got to go now, huh?"
"I wouldn't mind a drink first," Belinda said.
"It's on the house," Jack smiled. He was looking at Belinda with interest. "I don't suppose you dance?"
"Well ... sure. But not now."
He shrugged. That's a shame, he thought.
"What's your pleasure?"
"I'll have a martini," she said.
Jack had never sold a martini before, but he had read the bartenders' guide and he knew how to make one. He forgot that he had already used the cocktail shaker.
He poured in gin and vermouth and shook it.
He poured a glass for Belinda. She took a sip and frowned. She took a second, larger sip, swirling it around in her mouth, tasting it. Then she grinned. "This isn't a martini," she claimed. "Sure it is," Jack protested.
"Nope. It's a cum cocktail," said the oversexed blonde, and she drained it down.
"Delicious, too," she praised.
Jack could see that this was a girl who would do herself justice on the dance floor....
CHAPTER SEVEN
The cocktail had been so good that, despite her eagerness to locate the car, Belinda simply had to have another. But the second one was not so tasty; most of the secret ingredient had gone into the first mix. Belinda, who knew cum when she tasted it, was tempted to ask the bartender to add a dash, but she figured she didn't know him well enough for such a personal request, especially when the drinks were on the house. And although it was more dry than she liked, the cocktail was still enjoyable with just a hint of vermouth and spunk, as if he'd merely waved his love wand over the shaker.
Ellie was dancing again.
Belinda watched her, no longer suspicious about the smear on her lips, figuring that the lustful woman had also been drinking cocktails.
Tony said, "Well, what's the name?"
"I wrote it down," she said. She got the paper out and read it off.
"That's funny," he commented. "What is?"
"It just doesn't make sense...."
He took the paper and read it, shaking his head. The man who had bought the old car was named Herbert Granville the Third and he lived in Ocean View Villas, an expensive and fashionable address.
"Let me check the phone book," Tony said.
When he returned, he looked more puzzled than ever.
"The guy's a lawyer," he said.
"So what?"
"Well, would a lawyer want to buy an old used car? He must have a Lincoln Continental or a Cadillac or something."
"I see what you mean. That is funny."
"You think Silva made a mistake."
"No, I looked in his ledger myself."
"I guess I'll have to take a taxi there," Belinda said. "You want to wait here?"
Tony, who always felt uncomfortable with lawyers and enjoyed dancing with Ellie, said, "Yeah, I might as well."
Belinda kissed him and flounced out to find a cab.
Tony almost asked for a martini, remembered in time, and had a beer. After a while he danced with Ellie again, while Jack renewed his supply of the secret ingredient.
Belinda, sexy as she was, never had any trouble in hailing a taxi. She got the first one that came along, the cabbie passing by several gentlemen who were signaling to him. Belinda was so grateful to him for picking her up that she sat in the front seat and pulled her leather skirt up far enough so that he could get a nice look at her sopping drawers. Her cunt was so wet and open that the crotchband of her panties had been sucked right up her slot and a hairy twat lip could be seen on either side. The driver got such an erection that he had difficulty steering the cab; his cock kept banging against the wheel.
Belinda noticed his condition-a thing that seldom escaped her eye-and was sorely tempted to give him a blowjob in lieu of a tip.
But she was too eager to locate the car and the errant lottery ticket and so, regretfully, she tipped him a quarter instead.
The cab driver let her off at Ocean View Villas and drove right to a secluded spot near the beach and beat his meat to a frazzle.
Belinda approached the home of Herbert Granville the Third, impressed by the place.
It was a big white house, pseudo-Iberian, with cupolas and out-buildings and sculptured hedges rowed over the expanses of lawn. Tony had been right about it; it was remarkable that a man who owned such a home would buy a secondhand Pontiac from Bill Silva. Belinda felt a bit overwhelmed-even overawed-by such surroundings. She almost felt that she should go to the servants' entrance or the delivery door. But she steeled her nerve, thinking of all the fun she could have with one-hundred-thousand dollars, and marched up to the front door.
But the woman who opened those impressive portals was certainly no maid-nor maiden.
She was tall, with long black hair that fell straight and glossy over her shoulders, green eyes that were slightly tilted, as if there were a touch of the Orient in her background, and a high-cheekboned, finely planed countenance. She was wearing lounging pajamas of raw black silk, tied at the midriff and flowing loose at top and bottom so that Belinda could see her cleavage and long, shapely thighs.
She looked Belinda up and down.
"Errr ... Mrs.' Granville?"
"That's right."
"I sort of expected a maid ... with a lovely house like this and all," Belinda said, trying to figure out the right approach to use.
"My husband, who is a schmuck, does not believe in having servants," said the dark-haired sultry beauty. "He doesn't believe in slavery, either."
She said it as if she, herself, did.
Then she grinned very meaningfully and said, "A little bondage, perhaps ... but no slavery...."
She was looking Belinda up and down.
"But who are you?" she asked.
Belinda explained that she was trying to locate the old car that Granville had purchased. Mrs. Granville listened, looking a bit dubious.
"Well, my husband is certainly a bleeding-heart liberal and all that, but he's not such a fellow traveler with the paupers that he'd buy a used car," she said.
"I saw his name in the sales ledger."
"I wonder if he might have bought it for some low-born mistress?" the lawyer's wife speculated, showing no indication toward resentment.
Then she said, "Well, come on in ... I'll telephone Herbert and see if we can't get to the bottom of this."
She held the door open.
"Speaking of bottoms," she added, "what an adorable ass you have, my dear...."
"Why, thank you," Belinda said, blushing.
"My name is Melanie," Mrs. Granville told her, leading her down a luxurious hallway and into a large sitting room with gilt mirrors on the walls. She motioned Belinda toward a couch. Belinda sat down, coiling gracefully, aware that Melanie was eyeing her in a strange fashion. She averted her gaze, feeling slightly confused. Melanie left the room. From a distance, Belinda could hear her murmur on the phone. After a few minutes, the sexy, sultry woman returned.
She sat on the arm of the couch.
"Well, that's explained," she said.
"He does have it, then?" Belinda asked, hopefully.
"Well, no. Not now. But he did buy it."
Melanie squirmed as if trying to get comfortable; her lounging pajamas parted, revealing her thigh all the way up to her hip, and showing that she wore no panties.
"You see, my husband volunteers some of his time as a consumer advocate," she explained. "Another of his liberal imbecilities. Being wealthy himself-and something of a shyster, if the truth must be known-he feels an obligation to do charity work. Well, it seems that it was brought to his attention that Bill Silva was selling unsafe cars to poor people." She paused, stretching her gam out and regarding the sweep of her shapely thigh. She ran her hand up that soft curve. She went on, "Well, Herbert purchased a car from Silvayour car, it seems-in order to find fault with it and slap a lawsuit on the fellow. But it didn't work out that way because your car was, apparently, in good condition. Probably the only good car Silva had ever sold. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Errr ... where is the car now, then?"
"Oh, Herbert gave it to one of his clients ... a burglar or bank robber or murderer ... something sordid like that, at any rate. That's how my husband is, I'm afraid."
"I see ... But ... do you know the name and address of this fellow who has it now?"
"Yes. He told me."
"Well ... will you tell me?"
"I might," she said, teasingly.
Uh-oh, thought Belinda. Is she going to tell me that lawyers' wives have some code of ethics, like used-car salesmen? Just what is her game?
"Well?" she asked.
But Melanie Granville seemed to be changing the subject:
She said, "Yes, my husband is a liberal and I am an upper-class snob. God knows how we ever got together ... matter of opposites attracting, I suppose. He defended me once on a morals charge, as it happens, and ... well, that's neither here nor there. The thing is ... although I'm a terrible snob, I don't mind associating with the masses. Are vow poor, by the way?"
"Sort of," Belinda admitted.
"Good, good," said the remarkable Mrs. Granville. "I've always found the poor to be ... agreeable."
"Oh, I'm plenty agreeable," said Belinda. "But I sure would like to have that car back."
"Sentimental reasons?"
Belinda's cover story had worked with Silva, so she saw no reason to change it.
She said, "I gave my first-ever blowjob in that car and I have fond memories of it."
"Ah, I see," Melanie said, and her dark eyes flashed. "Have you given many blowjobs since?"
"Oh, sure. Lots."
"Men?"
"Well, sure. What else?"
"Well, women have been known to blow women...."
"Oh, gee ... lesbians, you mean?"
Melanie looked pained.
"Such an unenlightened attitude," she chided. "I suppose you must be liberal, too." She sighed. "Seatbelts and warnings on cigarette packages ... all the tyranny of the left wing, the fascism of health and safety. What a bore!" She looked sharply at Belinda, who was foundering in confusion. "Tell me, dear ... do I look like a lesbian to you?"
"Oh, gee, no."
"Quite right. I am not. And yet I seldom pass up a chance to dine on a cunt."
Shocked, Belinda gaped at the other woman.
"But ... why?" she queried.
"Why ... because they are so tasty," Melanie explained, as if that were logical. "Because it's so much fun to make a girl whimper and squirm and come. Why else?"
"I never ... knew that."
"You like it when a man tongues you, right?"
"Oh, sure. I love that," agreed Belinda, with enthusiasm; she was starting to get interested, her curiosity piqued-and her snatch stirring.
"Well, a woman does it even better, you know. Having a cunt herself, another woman knows how to do it best."
"I can see that," Belinda concurred.
Melanie looked at her questioningly.
"Well?"
"You mean ... you want to eat me out?"
"Exactly."
"Gee, I don't know. I never...."
"Let me put it this way. Herbert gave me the name and address of the fellow who has the car now. I'll give it to you ... afterward."
"Why, that's blackmail...."
"Precisely."
"I ... I could contact your husband myself."
"Oh, he knows how much I adore munching on pussy, so you can't threaten me that way."
"Well, I could fuck him in return for the name and address, then ... instead of letting you...."
"Being a liberal, my husband is quite impotent," assured Mrs. Granville. She shrugged. "He never has an orgasm except when he's donating semen to the poor folks' sperm bank."
"Oh," said Belinda.
She averted her gaze. Melanie watched her with interest and amusement. She was keen on getting her face between those lovely legs, but not desperate for, sexy as she was, she never had any trouble picking up a man or woman whenever she desired. That, in fact, was the main reason that her husband refused to hire a maid; it wasn't that he didn't believe in servitude so much as he hated his wife sucking-off the female servants. It just wasn't done.
And Belinda was thinking: Gee, I really do have to find that car ... I guess it isn't really so terribly naughty to let a woman fool around with me ... it's not as if I was sucking her or anything ... and ... well ... she does look awful sexy and it might even be fun....
"She looked up and smiled.
"All right," she said.
And the minute she said it, Belinda realized that her motives were more than simply getting the information-that she actually wanted to find out what it was like to have a sensuous woman go down on her. Her nipples had stiffened and her pussy had started to flow again. She was excited and thrilled; she was curious as to what it would be like, and beyond her natural curiosity, she was eager for the sensation.
She said, "I ... I don't have to do anything myself, do I?," batting her eyes innocently.
"Not unless you want to."
"Oh, I couldn't...." But even as she voiced the protest, Belinda realized that she was inquisitive about what it would be like to do it, as well as have it done.
"At least, I don't think I could," she added.
"You may change your mind," claimed Mrs. Granville.
"You might be right," said Belinda.
Without further ado, the two sexy women began to undress....
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was blackmail, not seduction-for after all, Melanie had not so much as touched Belinda-and yet, as she took her clothing off and watched the dark woman do the same, Belinda did not feel at all that she had been coerced into compliance with the bisexual scheme. It was not a matter of forcing herself into a distasteful situation to reap the benefits, not in the slightest. Belinda wanted to. The fact that she had a valid excuse took away her inhibitions and gave her a reason to go ahead with it so that she was not troubled by hesitation and figured she would not, later, suffer misgivings and regrets for what she had done. And the fact that Melanie was not a dyed-inthe-wool dyke helped, as well, manifesting the fact that just because a girl made love to another girl, it did not necessarily mean she was truly homosexual.
Those were rational excuses.
But there was another reason, and a stronger one. Belinda had to smile ruefully as she admitted it to herself. The main reason was the simple one-she wanted to.
Melanie sinuously unwound her lithe body from the lounging pajamas, standing in front of the couch. She wore nothing beneath and, stark-naked, she posed before Belinda. Belinda gazed at her, not attempting to conceal her fascination. Although she had often seen women nude before, this was the first time she had ever looked at a naked woman as a sexual partner and she was intrigued. Concentrating on Melanie, her own hands began to fumble inefficiently with her clothing. Melanie noticed the blonde's interest and she smiled.
She began to move slightly, swaying, putting her body on display.
Her tits were not overly large, but they were firm, thrusting mounds, capped by large, dark nipples. She arched her willowy torso, pushing her breasts out. Her long black hair fell over. the slope of one delicious boob, like a veil; the stiff nipple peeked through the strands.
Belinda could see why men liked to suck tits.
Her eyes drifted lower.
Melanie's pubic thatch was jet-black and bushy, a large triangle thrusting out on her plump mound, in startling contrast to her smooth, ivory flesh. A slender line of hair ran up her belly to her deep navel. She was holding her hips back as she pushed her knockers out, so that her loins were sort of tucked in and her trim, round ass jutted out behind; now, seeing Belinda's eyes move downward she pushed her belly out and let her slender thighs part.
Belinda looked between her legs and saw that her cunt was wet and open. The pink lips had unfurled, and her slot was an ivory pool amidst her dark pubic glen. Her clitoris was as long and stiff as her nipples.
Despite herself, unable to conceal her fascination, Belinda gave a little whimper of passion at the juicy vista poised before her intrigued gaze.
Melanie smiled happily.
She was delighted with Belinda's reactions-though hardly surprised, for she had long ago learned that even the most heterosexual of women will gladly leap into the frolics of lesbianism if given the excuse.
Now she turned slowly through a full circle, letting Belinda admire her naked body from all angles; pausing in profile, spinning to display her taut, juicy rear end, then turning full front again. She ran her hand over her belly, cupped her tits, moved her fingertips up the flesh of her inner thigh.
"You're lovely...." Belinda whispered.
Melanie gestured for Belinda to finish undressing. Belinda continued to stare at the dark woman as she did so, removing her white blouse. Melanie's eyes seemed to catch fire as she saw the blonde's big, succulent tits. Belinda pulled her leather skirt down, hiking her ass cheeks up from the couch to allow it to pass beneath her. Wearing only her sodden panties, she sat with her legs apart. Steam drifted from her wet crotch. The two women stared at each other in joyful anticipation.
"Beautiful...." Melanie murmured.
She was licking her lips.
Suddenly Belinda realized to her surprise that she, too, was licking her lips. But she did not stop and she wasn't ashamed-for why should she be embarrassed in front of a woman who had already professed to an enjoyment of cunnilingus?
Belinda started to remove her panties.
"No ... let me do that," Melanie suggested.
She sank to her knees in front of Belinda. Her fingertips slowly caressed up the inside of the girl's spread thighs, then up the crease where they joined her torso, not yet making contact with her quim. She hooked her digits under the elastic band of Belinda's panties, but did not draw them down yet. She moved closer, sighing and panting. Belinda's panties were molded to her cunt, sucked right up the crack. Melanie began to blow on the blonde girl's crotch. She blew on her as if cooling some tasty morsel that was too hot to eat, but the effect was more as if she were applying a bellows to a fire; Belinda's twat began to melt with fiery lust.
"Oh ... oh ... oh...." she gasped, manifesting her desire, letting Melanie know what she wanted without actually begging for it. She pushed her pert bottom up and her crotch moved closer to Mrs. Granville's eager face.
Melanie slowly pulled her panties down over her upthrust hips, then down her quivering ass and arched thighs. She drew them from her feet and, holding them up to her face, inhaled the musky aroma of the girl's cuntal juice. Her tongue flashed; she was lapping the cream from Belinda's panties.
Belinda whimpered urgently.
She slid her hand down over her mount of Venus and dipped her fingers into her ultra-moist pussy; spreading the labia open, she offered herself to Melanie.
Melanie tossed the panties aside; her dark hair swirled and her face was a mask of passion as she looked at the juicy feast before her. She was salivating heavily and panting desperately.
She tore her eyes away from that steaming gash and looked into Belinda's face.
"Suck me off," Belinda mouthed.
Melanie gave a happy sigh, paused for a final moment, a last second's enjoyment of the expectation, and then she lowered her drooling mouth to Belinda's snatch....
Melanie was right, thought the overheated Belinda.
Women did it better than men.
And Melanie did it best of all.
Melanie used only the tip of her tongue, at first. She tapped the pink end against Belinda's inflamed nugget of lust and fluttered it in her juicy hole. Then, pushing her licker farther out and flattening it, she began to lap up the slot, tracing the cunt lips and flaring over the clitoris with long, wet slurps. She rested her chin on the edge of the couch so that her face was a steady sucking platform. She lapped lower, so that she was tonguing Belinda from asshole to clitoris with long, fluid strokes. Her tongue was talented, nimble and skilled; it swept over the blonde girl's superheated crotch with a steady rhythm that ignited the girl's loins incandescently.
"Ummm ... ummm ... ummm...." Melanie murmured, expressing her appreciation of the creamy delicacy.
"Ahhh ... ohhh ... oooh...." Belinda responded, as the nimble tongue thrilled her to the core.
Melanie began to tongue-fuck her then, stabbing her stiffened lingua right up into her vertical slit.
Belinda writhed and squirmed; her smooth thighs clamped over the dark woman's face, parted wide, closed again; she could not decide which way felt better, to have the busily lapping face clamped to her cunt or to have her thighs wide apart, giving Melanie free rein to frolic in the creamy pot.
Melanie began to use her lips as well as her tongue, fitting her mouth to Belinda's love box, her parted lips molded to the girl's vaginal lips like a suction cup. She began to suck steadily while her tongue continued to stab into her slot.
She blew her fiery breath right up the hot depths, then sucked out. As she did so, she pulled a thick dollop of cunt juice back into her mouth.
Belinda's legs continued to open and close; her hands moved down, stroking Melanie's buried head, drifting down her graceful, arched neck, moving in to diddle her own clitoris and spread her pussy open against Melanie's oral cavern.
Melanie cupped Belinda's backside, drawing her closer, tilting her twat up as she drank from it. She spread her butt cheeks apart and fingered her asshole; she moved her hands up to fondle her fat tits, but that manual play was just a secondary effect; she was totally absorbed in sucking.
"Come...." she whispered, mouthing the word right up into Belinda's cunt, making the blonde feel it more than hear it. "Come for me ... come in my mouth ... come, come, come...." She was wild with desire, half-crazed by the joy of eating out a juicy pussy, abandoned to her lust. She had gone suck-crazy on Belinda's clit; her tongue was stabbing in a fury as it sped in and out of the slippery slash; her dark head ground from side to side, working her whole face around in Belinda's steaming, juice-filled crotch.
"Oh, I'm going to...." Belinda wailed.
The thrill spun through her, swirled in her belly and ran like an electric shock up her thighs. Her snatch had started to turn to cream.
Melanie's tongue cupped and delved up Belinda's hole, spooning out sex sauce; her lips pulled voraciously, sucking out a heavier dose of succulent joy juice. Her mouth was filling up with cuntal nectar and she swallowed it down with a gasp of ecstasy and sucked for another mouthful of the wonderful stuff.
She held Belinda's twat wide open with her digits and seemed to be trying to push her entire head up inside that creaming love box as she milked her hungrily.
Shuddering and moaning, Belinda hovered at the peak of all sensation for long, wondrous moments, swept by thrill after thrill, lost to the bliss of coming.
At last-for now-she was drained.
She sank down onto the cushions and extended her long, well-formed legs out beyond Melanie. Melanie continued to tongue and suck merrily away, wanting every drop. She looked up at Belinda, the top of her face level with the blonde's mount of Venus and the lower half still buried. Belinda smiled down at her; Melanie's eyes were flashing, and her mouth still munched away.
Finally, reluctantly, she had to admit that Belinda had finished climaxing.
Giving the empty sex box a final loving slurp, Melanie drew away and sat back on her heels.
"God, that was delicious," she applauded verbally.
"I loved it," Belinda seconded the emotion. She giggled impishly.
"I'm so glad that you blackmailed me," she said.
"I suppose...." Melanie sighed...."I suppose I'll have to give you the name and address now, and let you go...?"
"Unless you lied," said Belinda.
She was grinning.
Melanie raised her eyebrows, her expression questioning and hopeful.
"I mean ... if you refused to tell me the man's name unless I sucked you off, what could I do?" Belinda speculated. "I'd have to, wouldn't I?"
"Do you think I lied?" Melanie asked.
"Oh, I hope so," said the naughty Belinda.
CHAPTER NINE
Several other customers had come into the bar where Tony was waiting and, to the bartender's delight, they were playing Ellie like a jukebox. Apparently she was well-known for her ready availability, for there was no delay or hesitation about the way in which these dubious gentlemen approached the buxom lass. Like coins into a slot, they fed cocks into her mouth; they pressed her nipples and clitoris as if selecting some arcane music, and fingered her asshole as if it were a reject button. Ellie began to bubble and glow under all this attention, until she was as bright and garish as the jukebox itself. She blew on cockheads as if they were trumpets, with pealing notes of passion; she ran her pursed lips up and down pricks as though playing the flute; drawing wavering chords from the men; her meaty thighs worked like a squeeze box around her vibrant vagina. The men swirled her around in the dance, then crowded her into a booth amidst a cluster of pricks; her teeth flashed like piano keys and the joyful sounds she made became gurgles, as her body filled up with cum.
Jack whacked-off gleefully into his cocktail shaker.
Tony, watching this rare scene with interest, wondered vaguely if Belinda was having any success at the lawyer's house. He was just as glad that Belinda was not at the bar, for he knew her well enough to know that she might, just maybe, have wanted to throw herself into that cluster-fuck.
It would have made him jealous.
But he knew that the wanton girl could not possibly get into a compromising situation at a lawyer's home, where all would be proper and if she got anything, it would no doubt be tea and crumpets.
And even as he thought that, sexy Belinda leaned forward on the couch, reaching out for Melanie. She cupped the gorgeous woman's tits, pulling and massaging the taut tips. Melanie gasped and leaned in to meet the blonde and they kissed, lightly at first, lips merely brushing together, then more passionately as the kiss became inspirational. Melanie's black hair flowed like pitch over Belinda's amber and gold. Dark and blonde, they complemented one another. Their lips parted and they began to swap saliva back and forth. Belinda could taste the lingering flavor of her own pussy juice on Melanie's hot tongue-it made her more eager than ever to do some cuntsucking herself. She had not failed to notice that Melanie had enjoyed her snack of snatch, and now she found out how absolutely delicious a mouthful of cuntal juice was, even when sucked secondhand from a tongue instead of directly out of the box.
Belinda slid off the couch.
The two women knelt, belly to belly and thigh to thigh; they worked their mouths together, tongues flashing back and forth; golden pubic hair rustling against raven. They cupped their own tits, holding them out so that they could rub them against each other's body, and their stiff nipples clashed together like pliable swords.
They made love that way for a long time, until they were both moaning with need. Melanie had eaten her fill, but she had not yet had her box attended to, and the ivory juice was pouring down her lean thighs; Belinda had already orgasmed in Melanie's mouth but, oversexed girl that she was, she was already starting to steam again.
But this time her mouth was as juicy as her slot, her saliva was flowing as thick and urgent as twat juice, and her tongue tingled just like a stiff clitoris.
Speaking directly into Melanie's oral depths, she whispered, "I want to go down on you, darling ... my mouth is watering for the taste of your sweet pussy ... I'm hungry for your cunt...."
Melanie began to shake so vigorously that she seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
Melanie had never had much trouble finding a cunt to suck, but sometimes her partner, while eager to spread her thighs, was not as willing to return the favor. That was what she had expected from Belinda, who had never before made it with another woman, and now Melanie was as thrilled as she had ever been in her life, both by the prospect of being eaten out by the beautiful blonde and by the knowledge that she had so effectively introduced Belinda to inverted love.
Belinda slipped a hand down and cupped her cunt, palm on her mound and fingers trailing along her slit. She petted and toyed with that drooling hole, treating it just as she did her own, on the rare occasion when lack of cock caused her to give herself some manual dexterity. She pushed her middle finger up Melanie's love box and switched her thumb to and fro across the vibrant sex nugget; she rubbed and massaged and stroked. Then she brought her hand up to her mouth and, leaning back from the hips so that Melanie could see what she was doing, she lapped the dusky beauty's cunt juice from her fingers.
"Ohhh ... nice...." she purred.
She reached down and pushed three digits up the slot, churning them about; this time she offered them to Melanie, letting the overheated woman lick up her own juice; loving the erotic sight of that nimble lingua lapping up the cream.
She began to alternate hands, fingerfucking Melanie with one while she sucked the twat juice from the other, then switching. She began to finger-fuck herself and Melanie at the same time, and brought both cream-soaked hands up so they could each have a taste.
This love play aroused Belinda so greatly that she felt an actual physical hunger for cunt.
She drew back and stretched out on the thick carpet, arching her back and closing her eyes, just like a contented cat before a fireplace; and Melanie's quim was throwing off fiery warmth just as if a fire had, indeed, been laid in her sexual depths.
Melanie misunderstood.
Seeing the lovely blonde stretch out with her legs parted and her knees raised, she assumed that Belinda was ready for some more sucking.
She started to go down on her, leaning over, tits hanging as if pulled down by the weight of her big, hard nipples, hair falling like flowing jets over Belinda's belly.
But Belinda shook her head.
"No ... it's my turn," she said.
Melanie had lowered her face almost to Belinda's cunt; now she looked up, like a wolf raising its drooling jaws from a tasty kill. Her green eyes smoldered like molten jade, and a trembling smile turned her lips.
"Ummm ... sit on my face," suggested Belinda gleefully.
She pushed her tongue out and fluttered it slowly, in moist invitation.
Melanie whimpered.
She ducked down and took a single avid lap at Belinda's frothy cunt, then she moved up, straddling Belinda's hips, then her belly, as she shifted into position. She paused, hovering above the blonde girl's jugs and, dipping down, began to work Belinda's nipples around in her flooded love box and against her tingling nubbin of love.
Then she moved higher.
She positioned her crotch directly over Belinda's upturned face and, instead of sitting on that inviting seat, she hovered a few inches above it for a moment, letting Belinda get a good look at the feast in store for her. Spreading her labia open with her fingers, she revealed the dark inner flesh, streaked with savory cream, bubbling and flowing like an inverted caldron filled with steaming stew.
The sight drove Belinda into a frenzy.
Her tongue vibrated like a tuning fork, licking at the air; her lips began to suck just as if that delectable-looking cunt were already placed upon them; her chin rose up, her head tilting back, waiting to be fed.
Melanie slowly lowered her crotch.
Belinda rose up to meet it.
Then they were clamped together, mouth to cunt, and Belinda began to tongue-fuck and suck frantically. Although she had never dined on a pussy before, she found out that no experience was necessary, that cunt-sucking came perfectly natural to her. She had feared that her premier effort might be a bit awkward and fumbling; that she would have to practice for a little while before she discovered just how to perform the tasty task. But the instant that her mouth was on that delicious snatch, she realized that she knew instinctively just how to go about it-that a woman was born with the built-in knack of pleasing a pussy with her tongue.
And a split-second later, she also realized that a cunt tasted even better than she had hoped.
Cupping Melanie's haunches in her hands and lifting her eager face, she fitted her lips to that gaping slot and pushed her tongue far up the smoking hole and began to eat the lawyer's wife out with relish.
Melanie came almost immediately, for she had been hovering near the heights even before contact was made. Her snapper juice poured into Belinda's oral cave, flooding along her bridged tongue and running down her throat.
But now that she had discovered the joys of cunnilingus, the horny blonde was not about to be satisfied with such a fleeting taste.
Holding Melanie in position, she began to suck her off again, without pause.
But now Melanie was hungry again, as well.
She turned sinuously around, her body revolving without ever lifting her bush off Belinda's worshipping mouth and, reversed, she bent down and buried her face between the blonde's spread thighs.
The two adorable females began to sixty-nine furiously.
Belinda couldn't decide which felt better, the tongue up her cunt or the cunt on her tongue-the thrill in her twat or the thrill in her mouth. It seemed to be the same thrill, coursing all the way through her torso in an alternating current, stepped up in the transformer of her crotch and fusing in her cream-filled mouth. It was just like an electric charge, that thrill-and cunt juice and saliva were both excellent conductors of such a current.
When they came this time, they came together.
It seemed as if they were sharing the same quim juice, as well as the simultaneous thrill; that she was gulping the pussy cream down and it was pouring through her body and gushing out at her twat, only to be slurped up by Melanie and recycled back into Belinda from that dusky beauty's flooded snatch. Cunts and mouths were like jewels linked on a strand of sex sauce in this necklace of lust.
They came for a long, long time.
At last, both drained at the loins and filled at the face, they sank down in happy exhaustion.
"Oh, I'm so glad you taught me how wonderful it is to suck cunt," Belinda sighed.
And Melanie said, "As long as I have a face, honey, you got a place to sit."
"Maybe I'll come visit you again ... lots of times...."
"Oh yes ... anytime ... all the time...."
"But right now ... I got to know who has my old Pontiac...."
Melanie gave her the name and address.
The chase, temporarily delayed and lovingly prolonged, was once more on....
Tony was at the bar when Belinda walked in again. He was looking toward the booth at the back, by the jukebox. Jack was looking that way, too, and furiously whipping his dick into the cocktail shaker. It was, Belinda had to admit, a sight worth looking at.
One of Ellie's feet stuck out.
That was all that could be seen of Ellie.
Plenty of hairy asses were humping up and down and the odd cock could be seen, momentarily, as it was withdrawn from a cunt and transferred to a mouth and vice-versa.
There seems to be a regrettable lack of holes for all those rampant dongs, thought randy Belinda, and had her mission not been so urgent-or if she had not already come so abundantly in Melanie's loving face-she might well have been tempted to offer her own wondrous orifices as spare accommodation.
But for the moment she was satisfied-as satisfied as a girl like her ever was-and more concerned about the quest for the winning lottery ticket.
"Did he have it?" Tony asked.
"He did ... but not now. However, his wife-a lovely girl-was kind enough to provide me with the name and address of the fellow who has it now."
"I suppose you want to go there now, huh?"
"Well, I hate to drag you away from the show."
A thick jet of spunk suddenly burst out of the booth as a cock went off by accident; unburied.
"Oh, that's okay. Where is it?" Tony inquired.
Ellie's head appeared between a thigh and a rump as, mouth open, she rose up like a hungry salmon and let the jizz fall onto her face.
Belinda, despite her recent orgasms and the urgency of her mission, began to feel a bit envious of the woman who was receiving so much sexual attention.
She said, "Seventeen Shanty Street."
"Shanty Street?"
"Know where it is?"
"Yeah ... it's in the slums."
"I kind of figured it would be."
"Jesus, Belinda ... it's dangerous to go to that section of town ... men get mugged and women get raped there."
"Yeah. As a matter-of-fact, the man I have to see there is a mugger or a bank robber or something."
Tony looked appalled.
"His name is Ray Griffin. Some sort of criminal...."
"I ain't going there," Tony announced. He was no coward, but he was no superhero, either.
"Well, I'll go alone, then."
"You'll get raped!"
Belinda showed him a demure smile.
Tony realized how absurd his statement had been. It was not possible to rape a girl so willing as Belinda.
He shrugged.
Belinda kissed him, winked, and went out again. Tony wondered why her lips tasted like pussy juice. He could think of no possible reason, unless she were acrobatic enough to go down on herself, but the taste was so inspirational that, as soon as she had gone out, he wandered over to play the jukebox....
Once again Belinda got a taxi without difficulty, but when she gave the driver the address, he balked.
"Ain't no way I'm going there, lady," he said.
"Oh, please ... it's quite urgent...."
"Nope. No cab has ever gotten out of that street without being robbed."
"I'll make it worth your while."
"What's the point of that? Even if you gave me a hundred bucks, it would just get robbed along with the rest of my money, so there's no sense in it."
"I wasn't thinking of money...."
He gaped at her. She smiled so that he could see the pink tip of her tongue.
"You talking about...?"
"Um-hum."
"A blowjob, huh?"
She nodded, looking down at his crotch, which had already started to slipw interest by expanding.
He considered it.
He hated the thought of getting ripped-off. But on the other hand, he had never even seen a woman as beautiful as this one, let alone inserted his prick into such a face; he was torn between fear and desire. His heart hammered and the heavy pulse was echoed in his throbbing dong.
Her tongue slid around a little.
"Well, okay, lady," he said. "I'll probably live to regret it ... providing I live at all ... but, okay. But you got to give it to me on the way. Once I've got my rocks off, they can't rob me of a blowjob, see?"
Belinda saw his logic.
It also suited her own purpose for, by sucking him off while he drove the cab, time would be saved. Giving him no chance to change his mind, she leaned over, opened his pants and hauled his pecker out. It was an admirable prick, large and sturdy, and the glans was already starting to dribble with tasty spunk. She fluttered her tongue against it, then slid the tight collar of her lips over his peckerhead and began to suck steadily, while she frigged him quickly up and down with her hand.
His cockmeat and pre-cum tasted very nice, blending with the flavor of twat juice that still lingered on her tongue. She bobbed her head up and down, her hand rose and fell, her lips and tongue worked skillfully.
The driver put the cab in gear, and somewhat unsteadily, began to weave through traffic.
He revved the motor up and down, as if timing the strokes of the pistons to those of his own meaty piston as it churned through the high compression of her mouth, two-stroking her head while his cum built up in his double-clutching balls. His carnal crankcase cried out to be drained. He narrowly avoided lampposts and fire hydrants and other traffic. A traffic cop looked with suspicion at the weaving taxi; a truck driver, looking down from the high seat of his cab, almost had a heart attack.
He slowed, determined to shoot his load before he had reached the combat zone.
Just as he turned onto Shanty Street, he blew his wad, coming with an abundance, the creamy spurts lacing into her throat one after the other. Belinda gulped the hot jizz down, enjoying it as usual ... but finding that cum-drinking was making her horny all over again.
He drew up in front of the tenement and Belinda tucked his now-limp dork back into his pants, wiped her lips and got out of the cab.
He drove off and managed to go almost a whole block before three pimply young men in back-leather jackets blocked his route, hauled him out of the cab and beat him with rumble chains, preparatory to robbing him.
They never did understand why the driver had such a dreamy smile on his face as they clobbered him....
CHAPTER TEN
Belinda stood on that sordid street, looking at the dismal tenement in which Ray Griffin resided. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. But she was not worried and, in fact, she even looked around on the odd chance that a handful of rapists might be lurking in the neighborhood, for she had gotten so excited while giving head to the taxi driver that she was just in the mood to get raped a few times.
But there was nary a rapist in sight.
Isn't that always the way, she thought. When a girl is looking for a rapist, she can never find one ... Rapists are worse than cops, that way....
Well, maybe Ray Griffin will prove to be a horny sort of criminal, she thought, cheerfully
... maybe he, like Bill Silva and Melanie Granville, will have to be sensuously persuaded to reveal the whereabouts of the car.
She went up the crumbling concrete steps and down a dingy hallway that smelled like piss and octopus, and up a flight of stairs that threatened to collapse.
On the way she concocted a new cover story.
Ray Griffin and his henchman, Lenny Turner, were sitting in Griffin's one-room apartment, which originally had been an attic or storage loft. The walls slanted to a peak, being no more than the underside of the roof; light from a single small window came in faintly, and not too far, as if light could only enter such a room with trepidation; a candle in a wine bottle provided another circle of illumination. The candle was melted into a shapeless mass and the wine bottle had once contained Thunderbird. It sputtered like a fizzling bomb on the round wooden table at which the two criminals sat, adding to the impression that they were anarchists planning some dastardly assassination in a Balkan garret.
They were, in fact, planning a crime but, devoid of much imagination, they were having some trouble deciding what crime to pull off.
Ray Griffin was a big, brawny fellow, wearing a filthy undershirt, his suspenders lowered from his shoulders and hanging down in loops beside his chair. He might have been a good-looking man had he washed and shaved, but it was hard to tell beneath the dirt and stubble.
Lenny Turner was a small, slender youth who somewhat resembled a weasel both in features and sinuous torso. He had a wispy blonde moustache and pale blue eyes that watered a lot. His mouth was slack and mobile, twisting into grins, grimaces and sneers without any known reason for the changing attitude. He wore a baseball cap and a tee-shirt. The cap was sporting the logo of the Boston Red Sox; the tee-shirt was printed with the knowledge that: Disco Sucks. Quick and nervous, the youth twisted about in his weasel like fashion, as if his torso were squirming about inside his clothing.
Ray was forty years old, of which seventeen had been spent behind bars.
Lenny was a callow youth who had only been in jail twice, once for vandalism and once for pissing in gas tanks. He idolized his elder friend. He hoped that he would grow up to be just like Ray, big and brawny and strong and tough, with plenty of jail time behind him. He jerked-off a lot.
He was in love with Ray's inflatable doll.
The two hoodlums hunched over the table, scowling with the effort to think, and the inflatable doll, a blonde named Doris, reclined on the bed, patiently waiting.
Ray had stolen Doris from a sex shop, slipping her-in a deflated condition-down the front of his pants. That had been a week ago and the honeymoon was not yet over. But Ray was not the jealous sort and he allowed Lenny to blow Doris up for him; Lenny admired big Ray for such liberal and permissive attitudes toward his rubber bride.
Doris was quite spectacular.
No flesh-and-blood girl could have such perfect proportions, such pliable compliance with whatever position a man chose to make love, such patience with temporary impotency and, best of all, she never nagged. You never had to buy her a drink or feed her anything but cock; deflated, she rode free on public transport; she never had a headache and she never had the monthly curse. She had three available openings and her rubber fingers could be folded around a prick; one of her big nipples did double-duty as the valve by which she was deflated.
Lenny hoped that, someday, he would get to seduce Doris, either secretively when Ray Griffin was out or by permission, once Ray tired of plastic pussy.
Although he was trying to think of committable crimes, Lenny kept glancing at Doris.
He had a big hard-on.
"Damn it, there must be some joint we can rob!" Ray snorted in exasperation.
"How about we rob the Home for Battered Wives?"
"Naw, they got no money; that's why they get battered. That's the main reason why a husband beats his wife up, you know ... because she got no money."
"I didn't know that. I thought they beat them up because they were fucking around."
"Yeah, but fucking around without money."
Lenny nodded. He thought: Gosh, that Ray sure knows a lot of stuff. He said, "How about a supermarket?"
"That's kid-stuff," Ray snorted. "What if we get caught? Huh? You fancy going to jail, they got murderers there, they got kidnappers, they got rapists, they ask you what you did to get in jail and you got to tell them you failed to rob a supermarket? Shit."
"Year, I never thought of that."
"That's your main trouble, Lenny. You don't think."
Lenny pouted.
His mouth, which worked without known cause, smiled, but he was pouting, nevertheless.
He said, "Well, it's hard to think with a boner."
Ray looked disgusted.
"You got another fucking hard-on?"
"Yeah. A big bastard, too. The thing is, when I got a hard-on, all my blood rushes into my prick and my brain can't work so good."
"You better whack-off."
"Naw, that's kid-stuff; that's worse than robbing supermarkets, if you ask me. If only...." Lenny slid his gaze toward Doris. He was truly lusting for that latex lass. "If only I had me a girl like her," he said.
Ray glared at him.
"Well, jeez! How do you think I feel, I hear you humping away on her, and I got nobody?"
"Ugly as you are, how do you expect to get a girl?"
"Well, gee ... it ain't as if you sweet-talked Doris into bed, you know! You stole her. You didn't seduce her, you just slipped her down your pants."
"Watch your mouth," Ray cautioned.
"If I had a girl-even a real girl-I'd share her with you," said Lenny, petulantly. "You might at least let Doris give me a handjob, huh?"
Then: "Christ, I guess I'll have to let you ball her, just so you can get some blood back to your brain."
Lenny's eyes got big.
His cock, already big, got bigger.
"You mean it?" he gasped.
"Yeah. But I got to watch. I got to make sure you don't try no rough stuff on her, you know? A few bruises, a broken bone or two, they heal up. But if you put a hole in a rubber girl, she's finished for good. You got to treat 'er right."
"I'll be gentle," Lenny promised.
Ray was thinking that it might be sort of exciting, in a perverted way, to watch the callow youth fuck his rubber bride. It might make him nice and horny.
"Well, go ahead," he snarled.
Lenny jumped up. He staggered. His boner was so massive that it dragged him off-balance and he had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling. Then he threw his head and shoulders back to counterweight the looming cantilever of his prick and turned toward the latex lovely.
"Thanks, Ray," he said.
He moved to the bed and sat down beside her.
That's disgusting, Ray thought. Fucking is one thing, but getting all lovey-dovey with a doll is ridiculous. Especially since I came in her mouth just this morning.
But it was making him horny, as he figured it would, and he dragged his dong out underneath the table.
Lenny was feeling her up.
She seemed to have lost a bit of air during the day and he lowered his mouth to her big nipple-valve and began to blow her up nice and taut.
He finger-fucked her pliable cunt.
Ray began to pound his pork.
Lenny figured he had used enough foreplay now, and he mounted Doris. He hauled her legs up, wrapping them around his scrawny haunches. He arched her back. Then, grinning like a sex fiend, he whacked his cock into the rubber lady.
She has a tight pussy, he thought, with delight. That was one of the benefits of having a plastic girlfriend. If you blew on a real female's tits, her cunt got all sloppy; but when you blew air into Doris, her cunt got tighter.
He began to hump the doll with gusto.
His skinny ass bounded, rebounding off her belly as if he were screwing on a trampoline. Her rubber parts made soft, squishy noises as he pounded the pork to her.
Ray pumped his penis in tempo, feeling all the erotic stimulation that jealousy summons as he watched another man make it with his girl.
And that was the bizarre scene that greeted her amazed eyes when Belinda walked in....
She had knocked on the door.
But the door had no lock and fit the jamb only loosely, so her knock swung it open with a creak. She took one step into the room and stopped dead, gaping at such an incredible situation. She saw an inexperienced youth fucking a rubber doll on the bed and a brawny man jacking-off at the table, the whole scene romantically illuminated by candlelight.
"Oh, excuse me," she apologized.
Ray looked up at her, his hand slowly stroking.
Lenny halted his humping and looked back over his shoulder. He gave a little gasp. The blonde at the door was even sexier than Doris-and she was real!
"Maybe I'd better come back later ... when you fellows aren't so busy...." she said.
"Naw, c'mon in," Ray suggested.
Belinda hesitated for a moment. Then, smiling faintly, she stepped in and closed the door behind her.
"You from welfare or something?"
"No...."
Ray squinted suspiciously. If she ain't from welfare, he thought what the fuck is a girl like this doing here?
She said, "I'm looking for Ray Griffin."
"That's me. And that's my friend, Lenny Turner, there. And that's my girl he's fucking her name's Doris."
"How do you do, Ray? Lenny? Errr. . Doris?"
"What you want with me?"
Belinda was so dumbfounded by the seen that she had forgotten her revised cover story She had to think for a moment. Then she re called it.
She said, "I hear that you have a blue Pontiac?"
"That's right."
"Well, to come straight to the point ... I'm kinky for blue Pontiacs."
Ray squinted. His fist had stopped stroking
"That's the only way I can get my rock off," Belinda explained. "Doing it in a blue Pontiac." She thought for a moment. "Or a least with a man who owns a blue Pontiac,' she added, looking boldly at Ray.
"How come?" he asked, still suspicious still figuring she was there to give him food stamps.
Belinda hadn't expected that she would have to give any reasons for her quirk, but she was thinking well and now she said, "It's because of a trauma of my childhood. When I was eighteen, my father had a blue Pontiac and one day he took me out in it and made me suck him off."
She figured that would shock Ray.
But he said, "Oh, that explains it, then. I never had a daughter, myself, but if I did, I'd do the same thing, too, so I can see how that's logical."
"Errr ... if Doris is your girl, how come the young fellow is doing that to her?"
"He can't get a girl of his own ... being so ugly."
"You're very generous, Ray."
Her eyes drifted down.
"And you have a big prick, as well," she added. "A blue Pontiac and a big cock ... oooh, how wonderful...."
"Let me get this straight...." Ray stopped her.
Belinda giggled saucily.
"It's already straight," she said. "Nice and big and stiff, and the best way to get it straight is to get it straight up my hot cunt...."
Ray decided that the beautiful blonde was serious. He had heard about things like this, nymphomaniacs and such, but he had never found himself in such a position. Still, he was no man to look a gift horse in the mouth and, even if she were lying, the worst he would get out of it was some food stamps. Maybe she really was kinky for blue Pontiacs. He grinned and pushed back from the table; stood up with his cock sticking out from his belly like a spear.
Belinda moved toward him.
Well, I'll be damned, thought Ray.
She was really serious....
There was only one bed in the room, but none of the three people nor the doll was modest about sex. Ray led Belinda to the bed, and she lay down beside Doris. He sat beside her and began to undress her while she squirmed around in happy anticipation. He took her blouse off and began to fondle her big boobs.
Lenny, still stuck up Doris but not moving now, watched this activity with interest.
He reached in at great risk and had a nice feel of real tit himself..
Ray queried, "You mind if he does that?"
"Why, no," answered Belinda. "The more the merrier. Even callow cock is better than nothing."
Ray realized that this was not the kind of girl from whom one could demand fidelity and that, to her, the only infidelity would be fucking the owner of a Ford.
As she allowed Lenny to play with her knockers, he moved down and unfastened her skirt. He dragged it down her legs, then pulled her wet panties down.
Her legs opened wide; her cunt was juicy and her clitoris ws so stiff that it looked like a valve by which her lovely body might be inflated. He began pushing his thick middle finger up her slot. Lenny reached down and added his own digit so that both men could finger-fuck her in counterpoint, one going in as the other pulled out, until the blonde started to squeal with pleasure.
She reached down and wrapped her hand around Ray's big, thick root, frigging him slowly.
Her other hand crossed over and, finding Lenny's cock buried up Doris's plastic pussy, she cupped his nuts.
Ray could see that, like Doris, Belinda required a minimal amount of foreplay.
He ducked down and took her clit in his lips and blew on it, just once, to make sure that she was inflated enough to have a taut cunt-an act committed from habit more than logic-and then he knelt between her legs.
Her hand still folded around his prick, she guided the smoking head to her cunt.
Ray whacked the full length up her twat with the first vigorous lunge, paused for an instant, and then began fucking her with long, rippling strokes.
Belinda gave a happy gasp and wrapped her shapely legs around his flanks as if in imitation of Doris's position. She began to pump against him as he poured the pork to her. He was bouncing up and down and she was grinding under his thrusts. Beside him, inspired, Lenny began balling Doris once more. Side by side on the bed, real woman and rubber, the pair of lovelies took cock.
Lenny's callow pecker slithered up the latex slot.
Ray's fat dick hissed into Belinda's slippery gash.
Belinda whimpered and Doris wheezed.
The scent of hot rubber blended with the scent of hot twat as the remarkable foursome gyrated together. Everyone-except, presumably, Doris-was ready to come with dispatch. Belinda was hot from sucking off the cab driver. Lenny had already been fucking Doris, and besides, had had an erection all day. And Ray, that rare voyeur, was horny from watching his friend fuck his latex lady. They lunged and humped and writhed; they whimpered and moaned and panted.
Lenny blew his boiling wad first.
Belinda was still holding his balls, and she felt the hairy sac burst as he shot his load up Doris's twat. The living female squealed with the vicarious thrill; she could actually hear his jizz splashing into the rubber cuntal compartment. Her own pussy melted as she climaxed.
Feeling that hot box dissolve around his thundering prick, Ray roared like a frenzied beast and blasted a solid lump of heated spunk into Belinda's creaming love chute.
The movement slowed.
A faint hissing could be heard and Ray feared that Doris had sprung a leak-but he was too preoccupied to worry about vulcanization at the moment. His cock, although discharged, was still fat and rock-hard up Belinda's snatch.
He started to hump again.
But Belinda gave him a naughty look.
"Why don't we switch?" she asked.
Ray wasn't too keen on the idea of giving up real live flesh-and-blood twat in favor of rubber-especially since he'd already fucked Doris plenty-but Lenny began to nod in vigorous agreement. What the hell, thought Ray, an orgy is an orgy and a guy can't be particular in a cluster fuck ... They switched.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ray fucked Doris while, beside them, randy young Lenny threw a dynamite fuck into Belinda. Although Doris was not equipped with quim juice, Belinda was coming enough for both of them and, by this time, the whole bed was awash with cuntal liquid and jism.
Belinda was feeling very naughty.
When Ray blew his load and pulled out of Doris, Belinda squirmed down and, fitting her face between those plastic thighs, she proceeded to eat Doris out, sucking the combined jism of both men out of the creamy slot. Plastic pussy isn't nearly as satisfying as the real thing, she thought, but she knew that it excited the men to watch her do it and, besides, there was plenty of delicious cum up that box.
It excited Ray Griffin so much, in fact, that with two orgasms already spent, his prick was as big as ever.
He said, "One good thing about a rubber woman is that she never minds if you put it in her mouth...."
He looked questioningly at Belinda.
Raising her drooling jowls from between Doris's thighs, Belinda said, "Real women never mind, either...."
Ray slipped his pecker into Belinda's mouth and she began to suck on it happily, while Lenny continued to spear his lance into her cunt. Randy Belinda was in seventh heaven then, getting cock at either end, her tongue as hot as her clit, hungry for cream at crotch and mouth at the same time and-in due course-getting a heated geyser from both directions.
She gulped Ray's thick semen down as Lenny blew his frenzied load up her twat and wondered, vaguely, if the two streams would crash together like a tidal wave somewhere midway through her torso. Her cunt slurped up sperm and she drank it down, her own love juices pouring out in a deluge.
They were all so inspired that coming, instead of bringing relief, only made them want to come again.
It was becoming addictive.
Ray said, "Another thing about rubber women ... they let you fuck them up the ass...."
Whereupon horny Belinda immediately turned over.
Straddling Lenny, she pushed her snatch down onto his rampant prick.
Ray knelt behind her and fitted his bloated cockhead to her taut brown bud. He pushed steadily. Her asshole resisted for a moment, but then made the adjustment.
His fat knob slipped in.
Her hole clamped snug around the stalk, gripping him behind the glans, and her lovable rectum worked like a suction tube, dragging him into her bowels as if digesting him in reverse. He rammed the whole huge whang into her bottom.
They fucked her between them.
Belinda rode up and down on Lenny's cock as he thrust up from the bed, and Ray banged his prick up her giving anus each time she descended on the other man's dong. Both men could feel each other's cock moving inside her, the two tools separated only by the slender partition between her cunt and chocolate speedway, and Belinda, to her joy, could feel both those big peckers churning her loins to cream together.
They climaxed as one, too, and the willowy blonde felt as if her pelvis were being blown apart on the double dosage-and orgasmed with them, wailing with ecstasy.
But all things must come to an end.
At last they were all drained and sated.
Doris was going a bit soft, her big tits sagging, but they paid her no mind-for such is the fickle nature of mankind.
Naked, the three people sat around the wooden table.
Ray and Lenny were once again discussing places that they might manage to rob. They were not inhibited by Belinda's presence for she had become one of them, sort of-and even if it turned out that she was really from welfare, they knew that a welfare worker preferred a man to earn money of his own. A bandit was more socially acceptable than a welfare recipient.
Belinda was trying to figure out how she could get into the car and search for the lottery ticket.
She suggested, "Why don't we take a ride, fellas? Maybe some fresh air will clear your minds."
"Got no gas," said Ray.
"I'll buy the gas."
"What, you think I'd take money from a girl? That's worse than charity."
"Worse than food stamps," Lenny put in.
"Unless you want to be our gun moll," Ray said. "Then you can buy gas for the getaway."
"But we got to decide where we got to get away from, first," Lenny explained.
Belinda saw that this was the ideal solution; waiting in the car while they robbed some place, she would have plenty of time to look for the ticket.
But, like them, she could think of no place to rip-off.
"Why don't you rob the Rhode Island Lottery?" she suggested. She figured that that would give her plenty of time in the car and, if she found the ticket, she'd be able to cash it in on the spot.
"They got lots of money?"
"Millions."
"We'll do it!" Ray cried. "We'll rob the fucking Rhode Island Lottery!"
It was quite a trip to Providence.
Belinda supplied the money for gas, and Lenny went to fetch the car while Ray said goodbye to Doris-or what was left of her. They were all enthused by the scheme, and the two men were mighty glad to have such a clever gun moll join their gang.
Lenny drove along the freeway while Ray balled Belinda in the back seat.
Round about halfway, they switched. Ray drove while Belinda sucked-off Lenny.
It's lots of fun being a gun moll, thought Belinda. But she had not had a chance to look in the pocket on the driver's-side door.
She had to bide her time.
And then they arrived at the lottery office in Providence and it was time for business.
Ray was the mastermind.
"You two wait in the car," he said. "I'll go in and rob the fuckers myself."
"You ain't got a gun," Lenny said.
"Yeah, well, guns are old-fashioned. What you got to do these days is you pass them a note that says you got a bomb, see? Then they hand the money right over."
"But you ain't got a note, neither."
"Well, I can write one."
"If you had a pencil, you could."
"I have a pencil, right here," Belinda chimed in, clever gun moll that she had become.
"Here's a scrap of paper," Ray said, rummaging about amidst tissues and gas receipts in the side pocket.
He took the pencil and wetted it on his tongue; he scowled thoughtfully as he tried to compose a note that struck the proper chord. Then he chuckled to himself.
He wrote: Give me all the money or else.
"That," he said, "ought to do the job."
Fearless, armed with his courage and his threatening note, Ray marched into the lottery office....
Belinda didn't think he had a chance.
She figured that Ray was sure to get arrested and she felt a bit sorry for him, but there was nothing to be done about it. Maybe she could bail him out ... if she found the ticket. Lenny was sitting behind the wheel, the motor running; she had to get across him somehow.
Well, there was an easy excuse for that.
Smiling sweetly at the youth, Belinda noted, "It makes me excited, being in on a robbery."
"Yeah. Me, too."
"Horny, too."
He gazed at her in awe, amazed at the girl's capacity for sex.
He said, "Gee, I can't fuck you now ... I got to be alert and ready to drive."
"Ummm ... but I could just sort of go down on you while we wait, if you'd like, huh?"
Lenny saw no harm in that. And he liked the idea of having sex with her behind Ray's back. It made him feel daring and devilish and seductive; it was almost as good as cuckolding him. "Okay," he beamed.
Belinda drew her knees up on the passenger seat and leaned over his lap. His fly was zipped up for a change, but she soon rectified that.
She pulled his prick out.
It was only semi-hard, but that didn't matter. The cocksucking was only an excuse, anyhow, and if he didn't get stiff or get his rocks off, it didn't matter.
She frigged him a few times.
Sure enough, with the potency of pubescence, the lad's cock began to swell and harden.
She licked the fiery tip.
The head flared and the stalk began to pulse and throb in her stroking fist.
She slipped her lips over the head and sucked. She liked to take a soft dick in her mouth and feel it swell as she sucked it up to a full erection. Horny nymph that she was, Belinda forgot all about her search for the lottery ticket for a few minutes as she sucked voraciously on the tasty slab.
Lenny was gazing out the window, keeping an eye on the door into which Ray had vanished. He had both hands on the wheel. But then he dropped one hand onto the back of her head and began to push gently.
Belinda began to bob her head up and down, taking his seething cock far back into her warm mouth.
Her lips peeled back as she drew her mouth up the fat rod and her tongue flashed against the underside; her head went up and down steadily and her hand rose to meet it, frigging him into her oral cavity.
"I hope I can come before Ray gets back," Lenny croaked, hiking up from the seat and fucking into her face.
That reminded Belinda of her true purpose in giving him this blowjob.
With her free hand, she began feeling around in the side pocket of the door.
"What you looking for?" he asked.
"Umphfff," she said, trying to speak with a mouthful of cock-a condition that had become so commonplace recently that she hardly noticed it.
She pulled her lips to the front end of his prick so that she could articulate.
"I'm just looking for a tissue to wipe up your cum so that Ray doesn't notice it and suspect that we've been cheating on him," she explained.
"I thought you always swallowed it," he said.
"Well, sure ... but just in case a few drops get away."
He saw that she was truly a farsighted gun moll ... and a girl who would not easily be caught in infidelity.
He tried to concentrate, wanting to give her plenty of cum to mop up.
She began slurping on his knob again as her hand slid around in the flap pocket. She brought out crumpled gas receipts and a whole lot of cum-stiffened tissues.
But she did not find the lottery ticket.
Lenny, taking note of those dozens of tissues hardened by congealed jizz, figured that plenty of underhand cocksucking had taken place-in this car. It must have had quite a history, to which he hoped to add some of his own fluid incidents.
Damn! thought Belinda.
The pocket was empty now, and the ticket was not there; she was so unhappy that, for a moment, she forgot to move her head up and down-although she kept on sucking instinctively, nursing on his knob like a nipple.
Lenny pushed down on the back of her head, giving her a gentle reminder.
Well, she thought, since I don't have my lottery ticket, I might as well drink a load of gism while I'm here. And, just as some people might have consoled themselves with whiskey, Belinda began to drink....
Lenny's cockhead was oozing spunk; she sucked it off, swallowed the thin flow and pumped for more. She was sad about losing her fortune, but the taste of Lenny's prick soon cheered her up again.
His legs began to tense and relax spasmodically.
His heels drummed on the floorboards and revved the engine on the gas pedal.
His fist knotted on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white. His other hand rested on her head, which was going up and down at a furious raten ow.
"Ahhh ... take it!" he howled.
Belinda pushed her mouth down to the root of his cock and his creamy load spurted into her throat. Gasping and gulping, she swallowed it down and sucked furiously for more, pulling the gism out of him and draining his cock and balls to the very dregs as she skillfully milked the inexperienced lad off.
She drank it all.
She needn't have worried, thought happy Lenny.
There wasn't a single, solitary drop to be mopped up ... Belinda lifted her head, his knob popping from her lips like a cork from a bottle. She had really enjoyed that drink-on-a-stick, and she gave Lenny a smile.
"You sure give great head," he complimented her.
"It's nice to have such a great prick to give great head to," she countered. "I'm a lucky girl."
But then she frowned.
She was lucky, alright-lucky enough to have won the Rhode Island State Lottery.
But where is the fucking ticket? she wondered.
EPILOGUE
Mavis Taylor was feeling bored again.
She had truly enjoyed her job for a while, when the manager, Brian Hammond, had been stuffing plenty of prick up her slot every day. But all that had come to an end now. Once Brian had been getting pussy at the office, he had stopped nagging his wife for it and-such is the perversity of a woman-as soon as he stopped begging for it, Mrs. Hammond became determined that Brian would screw her day and night. Hammond had done his best, but he was not accustomed to having sex with such frequency, whereas she was in training for feats of sustained screwing, having been in the habit of cuckolding Brian with great regularity. Soon enough, she wore him to a frazzle.
There was nothing left for Mavis.
Not an inch.
Not a drop.
The manager came slumping in, white as a ghost, his knees weak and his legs watery and his sperm-sacs drained to the bone. He managed a bleak smile at Mavis-for the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak-and then staggered into the privacy of his office, where he spent the day thinking about anything and everything except cunt.
Nothing .was going to arouse him now.
Mavis had done her best.
She had gone into his office and raised her skirt high, putting her juicy twat on display like a trophy mounted on a velvet wall. But even that inviting sight had inspired nary a quiver in his groin.
She had offered to suck his prick until it got hard.
He had declined, graciously but firmly.
Now Mavis, with her pussy unattended, neglected and frustrated, was standing at the counter feeling very sorry for herself. Her cunt felt like a glowing ember between her legs. When she shifted her weight from foot to foot, that incandescent crumpet sparked and fluttered. And to make matters worse, not a single customer had come in all day. Well, it was almost time to knock off and Mavis was trying to decide if she should rush straight home and give herself a finger-fucking, or stop off at a dating bar and hope some horny gentleman would pick her up with dispatch. The only trouble with that was that if she went out looking for a guy, while she was so horny, she was likely to jump at the first chance she had-and a gal could wind up with a real creep when she wasn't discriminating.
The only thing to do, she decided, was to frig herself off first, then go looking for a prick when she was not so desperate, and could afford to pick and choose and get a good one.
She had to do it at the counter.
It was no use to ask Mr. Hammond to watch the till while she went to the bathroom; the poor man could hardly walk and, anyhow, Mavis was about ready to quit this wretched job. If someone walked in and caught her and reported her for masturbating during working hours, so what? She felt quite daring in her determination.
She raised her skirt, pushed her panties down and began to rub her cunt. That moist handful was seething and pulsating. Juicy ribbons of pussy nectar trickled down her legs.
She pushed a few fingers up the vertical slot and began a rhythmic finger-fucking, enjoying it immensely. As her fingers pushed in, her thumb swept across her love button like a windshield wiper.
She was just getting into the build-up.
Then in walked a seedy-looking lout.
Mavis had no interest in the fellow, for he looked furtive and quite disreputable-nor did she give a damn if he noticed what she was doing or not. She continued to massage her crotch under the counter as the man looked around the room nervously.
Then he set his jaw in determination and marched up to the cage.
Scowling fiercely at her, he pushed a lottery ticket across.
"Hang on a minute," she snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
He squinted suspiciously at Mavis.
"What the hell you mean, busy? You ain't doin' nothin'."
Mavis had little respect for louts.
"I happen to be masturbating," she intoned.
"Oh, gee-excuse me, Miss," said Ray Griffen, who knew all about such matters and would never willfully interrupt autoeroticism in progress. He stepped back and waited patiently. Mavis stared at him and he grinned.
She found it rather exciting to be fingering herself while a man-even a loutish man-was standing right there in front of her and, inspired, she creamed quite efficiently, shuddering and moaning as the fiery thrill coursed through her loins.
She looked more kindly upon Ray.
"Oh, that feels ever so much better, now," she said. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
She daintily wiped her box with her lace handkerchief and drew her panties back up, squirming into them.
Then she looked at the lottery ticket.
It was upside down and someone had scribbled something on the back.
Ignoring that, she turned it over.
Ray had been quite willing to wait patiently while she jerked-off, but he had no patience with inefficiency.
"You got it the wrong way up, you dumb bitch," he snapped.
But Mavis was checking the number and her eyebrows went up. She even flashed him a big smile.
"Why, you lucky man!" she lauded. "Huh?"
"Handsome, too," she added-for she had gained respect for him now. Handsome? Ray wondered.
His jaw was hanging open so wide that he seemed to be gnawing at his own breastbone.
"Never mind that stuff-just hand over the dough."
"Certainly, sir-I'll write out a check."
"A check?" he gasped, incredulously. "Jesus, lady, what kind of dummy do you take me for? Gimme the cash, and quick!"
Mavis shrugged. She guessed that, being a low-born, ill-bred lout, he probably didn't have a bank account. He probably had a wife, though-damn it all. Mavis would have liked to share in his good fortune and, true to her nature, was speculating on the size of his prick. But he was looking impatient. She sighed and went to the safe.
Ray watched to make sure she didn't press an alarm buzzer.
When she actually handed the big stack of bills across the counter, he was amazed.
He really knew how to write an effective and ominous note, no doubt of that. Ray was flushed with success and swelling with pride as he turned and ran out to make good his escape-and left Mavis to wonder why a lucky and wealthy man should be in such a hurry.
Lenny threw the car in gear and the getaway commenced.
They were surprised when they heard no sirens wailing in their wake, and complimented one another on such a well-planned crime. Whooping with joy, they sped out of town. Ray handed the money to Belinda. She had been so clever in selecting a joint to rob that he reckoned she should be allowed to count the loot. She did so happily.
It was a lot of money and she was smiling when she had finished adding it up-but was frowning at the same time, and looking puzzled.
"What a remarkable coincidence," she mumbled.
"How's that?" Ray asked.
"Oh-nothing," she murmured.
But it was remarkable, indeed.
The robbery had netted, to the penny, exactly what her lost lottery ticket would have won.
