It is not enough to merely admit that the sexual revolution is here; the popular media have done a good job on that level. But there is more to it than merely publishing photographs of streakers, or alluding to the fact that many young people are choosing not to marry.
Young people have always been in the forefront of sexual experimentation their youth and their freedom from social pressure insures them this role.
And so to relate the sexual revolution to the nation's youth is begging the question. Of course they enjoy more freedom than their parents not only on the sexual level, but on almost every level.
But the importance of the sexual revolution if it has any-lies in how that social change relates to the middle class, the middle-aged the backbone of the nation.
Obviously, it is there that change must occur if that change is to be immediately relevant to think of teenage behavioral patterns as little more than group conformity would be a mistake.
In this novel, mixing as it does America's young and the middle-aged, we are given a startling insight into the workings of the sexually liberated mind.
And while at first glance we feel that we are dealing with a simplistic version of a familiar story, we soon see that there is more here than meets the eye. What at first seems to be a fantasy society devoted to sexual pleasure soon stands revealed as an extension of the world we all know too well, the world which is all too willing to be corrupted by desire; desire which has gone bad, desire which can spoil any scene no matter how pleasant and natural that scene might be.
Sex between the generations is this why it is forbidden?
-THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE
Waking up from a short nap, I opened my eyes to Melanie's pretty face only inches away from mine. Her heavy auburn hair fell in lavish waves over her bare shoulders and back. My one hand clutched a huge melon-like breast that moved gently with her every breath. My other arm was wrapped around her small waist in a lustful hug. We were still lying sideways on our dilapidated office couch, my buttocks pressing into the well-worn cushions. One of Melanie's shapely legs was bent listlessly across my hip. My erect penis rested invisibly, but happily within her sperm filled vagina. I sighed contentedly as I recalled the fantastic balling we'd had on this very same faded divan just a little while ago, and especially the "coming together" before we fell into a deep slumber. With freshly aroused animal desire, I pushed my stiffness further into Melanie's pink-lipped box. The slushy sensations spread like electric through my outstretched body, erasing all thoughts of sleep.
Melanie stirred slightly, pressing her cheek close to mine. "What time is it, Ken?" she whispered, answering my love-thrusts with counter shoves from her own crotch.
I glanced over at the wall clock, "four forty-five," I yawned drowsily.
"I'm hungry, aren't you?" Melanie whined, as she ran her hand through my thick blonde hair and pushed down hard. "I sure hope somebody calls before quitting time."
Not answering, I yielded to the insistent pressure of her hand and maneuvered myself, so that I could bend my head toward her enticingly luscious tits. I managed to pop one of her pink nipples into my open mouth, kissing and nibbling it with greedy lips.
"We could sure use some bread to pay the overdue rent," Melanie went on in a flat voice, purring like a kitten.
"That's what you get for pulling a cop-out on that stag party with the midget fraternity," I scolded, looking up for just a minute.
"Jeez!" Melanie rolled her expressive green eyes in disgust. "What d'ya mean? How would you like to be mauled and balled by a bunch of tiny fat-gutted superfreaks, for Christ's sake? And you'd better believe it their dicks weren't so teeny either!"
I laughed in spite of myself as I struggled to slip my body under Melanie's seductive torso, all the time making sure that I wouldn't lose our coupled love-lock. At last, I lay on my back. Melanie's soft velvety legs straddled my pelvis, her knees bent at my sides.
"Never again! There's some shit I just can't eat, Ken!" Melanie went on as she squatted down more comfortably, her on-top position enabling her to slide down my cramming pillar with full force. The sight of her full bosoms almost drove me out of my mind. I reached up and grabbed the swaying fleshy mounds, raising my head far enough to stuff one delicious orb into my mouth, gagging and sucking in a blazing passion.
"What about you and Dr. Prickett, the famous obstetrician? He calls the exchange every day. Now that's what I call easy dough down the toilet," she rebuked me accusingly.
"You mean old prick face? Thank you, but no thanks!" I came up gulping for air. "Man, you don't know what a bummer it is to pretend-rape an aging faggot in full drag! No sir, that's not my bag!"
"Poor baby," Melanie sympathized lovingly, but sarcastically, rotating her furry patch on my damp groin in a regular rhythm. "Darling, remember, you're the one who's always dunning me with that old saying, 'you've got to pay the piper,' so...."
Just then, the telephone started ringing. It had been quiet so long that we both jumped involuntarily, and stared frozen and unbelievingly toward the instrument. It kept jangling away on the edge of the chipped desk, placed strategically right next to the couch beside my head.
"Money, honey!" Melanie yelled with glee, as she strained to reach past my head for the receiver, making sure not to lose her vise-like grip on my soaking organ. "Oh, my God! I hope it ain't those little bastards again," she groaned, as she hesitantly picked up the phone. She settled back down hard on my love pole with a loud "squish."
"Or that snatch quack," I sneered, feasting my gaze on my own gigantic tool pumping slickly in and out of her red silkiness.
"Good afternoon, Anytime Modeling Agency, Miss Melanie speaking," she answered the phone in a syrupy tone. She leaned forward over my body, her full titties spreading softly across my thick matted chest, and placed the receiver between our heads so that we could both hear the conversation.
"Oh, thank heavens, you're still in," a woman's voice drawled gratefully. "This is Mrs. Consuela Rigsby, III, calling. I'm entertaining a small group of top-drawer society friends to celebrate my favorite niece's 'coming out.' Now I realize this is very short notice, but I'm absolutely desperate to get an emergency service fill-in for my party. My regular bartender is bedded down with the flu or the clap or something, my guests are arriving in half an hour, and honey, I'm really in a pickle!"
"I think I know what you mean," Melanie tried to sound sympathetic and matter-of-fact, but had a hard time of it, as my over-sized rigid instrument tunneled into her with total sexual abandon.
"Thanks to one of your clients the eminently, respectable Dr. Prickett I have your business card which he left for just such an emergency."
"Doc-tor Prick-ett?" Melanie pronounced his name loudly and distinctly, bringing my piston-like gyrations below to a sudden halt.
"Yes, he was the renowned obstetrician who brought my favorite little niece into the world and has watched over her ever since," Mrs. Rigsby bragged with obvious pride. "Anyway, I have to get a stud-type nude bartender replacement in a jiffy, and the dear doctor says you can get me just what I need."
" 'Redi-quick service with a smile' is our motto, madam," Melanie replied in a sickeningly efficient tone, winking at me mischievously. "I'll transfer your request over to our Men's Division and have your order filled promptly." With that, Melanie shoved the receiver into my face, one hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
Playing along with the game, I addressed Mrs. Rigsby, III, in my deepest, sexiest tone. "Male Department, Mr. Ken here may I be of service to you?"
There was an intake of breath and then a definite cooing reaction from the other end. "My, what a virile voice you have there," Mrs. Rigsby twittered. "Hon, would you happen to have on hand, and handy, a youngish, good lookingish, and heavily endowed bartender, in the nude, for my elegant 'coming out' affair this P.M.? Money is no object, dearie! Since I never serve anything but champagne, there'll be no drink mixing just serving and making sure all my rich friends are taken care of and well sauced."
"Sounds like a real grabber," I answered enthusiastically. "Madam, to show you Anytime tries a little harder, I do happen to have a twenty-three year old giant of a blonde standing six-foot-three in stocking feet, ruggedly handsome, fresh out of the marines, powerfully muscled, and pendulously hung with a certified measurement of nine inches soft!"
"Really!" Melanie cried ecstatically, as she played rocking horse on my throbbing monstrosity, her in and out friction adding intense stimulation to the excitement rising from the tips of my toes to the top of my curly head.
There was a loud gasp at the other end of the line. "Nine inches, you say?" Mrs. Rigsby swooned. "How perfectly perfectly magnificent! Quick! What's your address? I'll send over my chauffeured limousine or a Brink's truck or something, and pick up that divine specimen!"
"Groovey. Eighty-Six Mannequin Walk," I answered, as I stared fascinated by Melanie's gigantic boobs rotating in perfect rhythm with her gyrating pelvis. "Anytime guarantees that our computer processed personnel are versatile, proven, experienced, and equipped to handle any size job."
Mrs. Rigsby giggled kittenishly. "Wonderful! You were certainly highly recommended by Dr. Prickett, and being such a good friend of the family, he'll be here to watch over your boy. Toodle-oo!" There was a hasty click at the other end of the line.
"Shit!" I exploded, straining back over my head to place the receiver in its cradle.
"Don't blow your cool yet, sweetheart," Melanie advised, leaning over on top of me, digging her elbows into my wide chest, and holding her cutie pie face in her dainty hands. She looked directly into my eyes. "This ain't no mickeymouse job, kiddo. Let's face it, we need more than peanuts to break even this month. So don't let that queer doc bug you. Just concentrate on making the money for a change. This is definitely your chance to meet some better-heeled clientele right?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Thank God we can say goodbye to those funky frozen dinners for awhile," I smiled in anticipation as I folded my heavily muscled arms behind my head, dreamily.
"You better get dressed, darling. You haven't gotten paid yet!" Melanie scolded in mock severity, her hands running over my swelling biceps and digging deeply into my moist armpits.
"I'm already dressed," I remarked, wrapping my hairy legs around Melanie's smooth back, and shoving my crotch up hard against hers with a strenuous boost.
"You big idiot," Melanie protested nervously, breathing a little faster. "You're something else, you know that?"
Still daydreaming, I went on with my reveries. "Don't you see, baby? Things are really starting to move now, with this new breakthrough among these filthy rich old timers. I'm going to sweet talk those corny swells so slick, my lips will actually be dripping like honey with charm and wit. And when those society dames get a gander at my big meat, they'll go wild! Especially that Mrs. Rigsby, III. I can tell I've got her eating out of my hand," I bragged.
"You're just marvelous, muscles," Melanie giggled, wiggling her slippery haven soothingly.
"That's me marvelous!" I agreed, struggling to shove my hands in between our chests, and cupping Melanie's warm ample knockers tightly.
"What's a 'coming out' party anyway, lover?" Melanie asked flatly, bending her legs so that her heels touched her chunky white behind.
"Huh? Well, it's kind of an honor. You know, like graduating from Harvard or Yale. Sort of like being presented at the White House. And the parents foot the bill, which is usually plenty, believe me," I answered trying to sound like an authority.
"No kidding?" Melanie sighed naively, peering down at her big bust firmly engulfed in my groping fingers. "Well, I hope you don't get so ego-trippy that you forget to leave my card with some of those wealthy business tycoons and millionaires," she said in a hurt little girl's voice.
"Hey, boobie, where's your head at?" I smiled affectionately, reaching up and tongue-kissing her fervently. "Let's come, before he comes the chauffeur, that is," I muttered, pulling my hands out from between our bodies, and sliding them down over the two plump cheeks of Melanie's soft ass.
Almost as one, we rammed against each other in mounting passion, panting and drooling, toward that ultimate moment of pleasure. Choking, sobbing, and wild-eyed, Melanie and I slammed our red-hot groins together in professional coordination, aiming for the keenest possible erotic gratification before our final blast of ecstasy.
"Now, baby come on home!" I begged, digging my fingers into Melanie's moving behind, as I strained upward in one last desperate push, the culmination of our sex play suddenly in sight.
"Oh, darling, yes, yes together!" Melanie blurted out in a delirium of lust, as her convulsing body rocked and jerked wildly in a flooding downpour of streaming, searing love juices.
"Oh, Christ, no yeah!" I cried insanely, moving my head from side to side in a frenzy, my breath coming in gasps, as my massive plunging cock spewed upward in endless bursts to meet the spreading frothy jizz from Melanie's compressing hotness. Almost uncontrollably, our bodies joined and pulled apart in long, spasmodic jerks, as wave after wave of voluptuous orgasms succeeded one another before finally slackening to an oozing flow of pearly cream.
Melanie's shuddering breasts heaved up and down on my matted chest hair, her heavy breathing hot on my neck. I let my trembling hands fall to my sides, too exhausted to lift a finger. We both lay motionless, our hearts beating wildly, completely drained. We stayed that way for long minutes, happily coupled in the timeless floating nirvana that always follows good sex no past, no future, just the present.
CHAPTER TWO
The boyish-looking, impeccably uniformed chauffeur brought the custom-made canary yellow Rolls to a sudden halt. I was so busy taking in the beautiful, expensive looking, high-rise apartment building we had stopped in front of, that I was thrown off balance and slid from the deep leather seat onto the thickly carpeted floor. The chauffeur looked around and snickered at my ridiculous position, but I noticed his shifty eyes giving the lengthy swell in my khakis the once-over.
"Go see that guy," he indicated in an insolent tone, as he reached over the front seat and opened my door from the inside.
I climbed out of the limousine, slamming the door behind me, and walked toward the gaudily dressed negro doorman. The powerful motorcar glided smoothly away and down into the underground garage.
Not even bothering to get up off his stool, the doorman pointed one long brown finger in the direction of the tall shiny brass entrance doors. "Penthouse," he mumbled lazily, and reached over for the wall phone. I noticed his eyes opened wider as they lit on the protruding lump between my legs.
Hurrying into the entrance, I tiptoed through the deeply carpeted, crystal chandeliered foyer and over to the glass enclosed elevator. I stepped inside and pushed the "Penthouse" button. As the muzak-filled cage shot upward toward the twentieth floor, I quickly checked over my muscular physique in the mirrored door. Everything looked O.K. from clean white t-shirt to skintight properly bulging khakis. In no time, we reached the top floor and the doors parted automatically.
Facing me, only inches from the door, stood a smiling, pear-shaped little woman of about fifty with abnormally large pop-eyes. She gawked unashamedly at the lump formed by my thick penis outlined to midway down my thigh. Her round doughy face was heavily made-up, and the nostrils of her bulbous little nose fluttered excitedly. Her fat neck, ears, flabby arms, wrists, and fingers were covered with expensive jewelry. An elaborately pearl-embroidered full-length florescent chartreuse gown was draped over her dumpy figure like a sack. I bit my lips to keep from smiling as I took in the final touch her obviously dyed jet blue-black hairdo was topped with a glittering diamond tiara. Apparently, she had put it on in a hurry since it was tilted off center heavily to the side and made her look a little tipsy.
"Well, handsome, Anytime wasn't lying when Mr. Ken promised you'd be equipped to handle any size position. So just drop your duds over there in the hall closet, and let's see what you look like in your 'uniform,' " Mrs. Rigsby giggled, her bulging eyeballs alight with curiosity looked about ready to pop.
I walked over the deeply piled oriental rug, opened the closet, and looked into the well-lit interior. It was already filled with an array of multi-colored rich looking fur wraps. Hurriedly, I kicked my loafers off, yanked my t-shirt over my head and slipped out of my pants, rolling them up into a ball and tossing them on top of my shoes. Closing the door, I swung around dramatically and faced Mrs. Rigsby, my heavily veined organ and loosely hanging balls bouncing to and fro like a pendulum, until they came to a stop between my hairy thighs.
"Sensational absolutely sensational!" Mrs. Rigsby applauded wholeheartedly, her bejeweled hands jangling together noisily. "Remind me to give you an extra bonus just for giving this tired old heart an extra flutter," she winked, patting her bosom. "Now, hon, just go through that doorway there, and ask for Yetta Mae. She'll take care of you." And with a quick about face, Mrs. Rigsby disappeared through another door, which must have led to the living room since I could hear electric guitars being tuned up and the sound of chattering voices.
Following her directions, I found myself in a large and spotless ultra modern kitchen. A tall, slender, ebony black young negro, dressed in an immaculately white chefs uniform, and a seductive, curvaceous coffee-with-cream colored girl, attired as a maid, stood with their backs to me, giggling and sampling some of the elaborately displayed hors d'oeuvres lined up in lavishly filled trays.
The girl dressed as a maid turned around casually to see who it was. When she spotted my heavy joint in full view, she almost choked. I was as startled as she was as I gazed back at her awe-struck. Two gigantic tits practically fell out of her low-cut blouse, as she leaned over, coughing uncontrollably, covering her full-lipped mouth with one dainty hand. The friendly chef looked up and down my powerfully molded nudity with an amiable kind of curiosity.
"Oh, wow, do you turn me on, honey!" the girl exclaimed, wiping her mouth with one arm, and wiggling her cute rear end as she rushed over, her soft hands groping for my immense cock, pulling and squeezing it eagerly. I gasped.
"I sure dig 'em hairy," she grinned, moving one hand down and caressing the hanging tender scrotum. "Isn't he outta sight, Felix?"
"Do you like sepia sweethearts, stud?" the chef asked in a genuinely warm and friendly voice. He stepped between us, and reaching with one large black hand into her straining blouse, he pulled out one enormous creamy tan colored breast. His fingers held up the titanic orb temptingly, and circled the luscious caramel brown nipple, fully the size of a silver dollar. "Yetta Mae measures forty-four inches around her bust, and man, she'll give you the greatest ride you've ever had!" he promised wickedly, rubbing the big round nipple against my thickly blonde chest sensuously.
I just stood, open-mouth and stunned, taken back by this surprise onslaught.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open and
Mrs. Rigsby entered, her jewelry jangling. Yetta Mae and Felix pulled away nonchalantly, Yetta Mae casually stuffing her giant boob inside the undersized blouse. They obviously didn't fear her.
"All right kids, let's get a move on," Mrs. Rigsby said, sizing up the situation and eyeing my dangling instrument approvingly. "My morbid relatives are ready for chow, naturally, so let's feed their fat faces. As soon as they evaporate, we can really start a little hell raising of our own and get this party on the road, huh? Now where's Priscilla, that damn niece of mine? I told her I needed her to greet her guests." Slapping her fat hand to her forehead in mock anguish, Mrs. Rigsby exited, muttering to herself.
Felix and Yetta Mae went back to work organizing the appetizers efficiently.
"Who's this Priscilla?" I asked innocently, gazing hungrily at the delicious, but unrecognizable hor d'oeuvres piled up before me.
They glanced over, surprised, then looked at each other knowingly.
"I might as well give you the lowdown, sexpot, before you get it from that bunch of phony hangers-on out there," Yetta Mae eyed me, then gestured conspiratorially to come over to her side. "What's your name anyway, beautiful?"
"Ken," I smiled. As I stood next to her, I watched intrigued as she took hold of my lengthy shaft and carefully placed it horizontally across the end of the empty tray.
"No bullshit, Kenny boy, Priscilla is a 'he' who was turned into a 'she' in Scandinavia last year," Yetta Mae daintily arranged various delicacies around my extended pole which still lay flaccid on the surface of the silver tray.
"Uh-huh, and Consuela has sunk a lot of moola into that soft-headed dum-dum to change 'him' into a 'her,' and now, we're having this funky 'coming out' party to introduce this freak chick to society properly. That's heavy, man. Too much!" Felix shook his head confused, as he started to uncork the first of dozens of champagne bottles lined up on the serving counter.
"I hate to admit my ignorance, cats, but what is all this crap?" I asked anxiously, waving my hand toward the beautifully decorated food. "Christ, what if some dude out there asks me what all these little shitty turds are?"
"Hey, man, they're just classic canapes," Felix answered, a little impatient with my bewilderment. "The triangles are smoked salmon decorated with butter; the squares are caviar on toast; the round ones are fois gras on bread, and the diamond slices are Bayonne ham dig?"
"Get your gorgeous ass out there right now, kid. After the hors d'oeuvres, you still have to serve the champagne and the main entree. So get busy!" Yetta Mae turned me around toward the door leading into the living room and pushed.
Balancing the heavily loaded tray with my stretched out limp rod halfway across it, I pressed its silver edge carefully against the swinging door and prepared to shove my way through into the living room.
Suddenly, without warning, the door flew open in my direction, forcing the tray violently into my balls, and then over backwards, splattering my nudity with all six dozen classic canapes. The imagine hor d'oeuvres were smeared all over my carcass from chest to thigh in a mess of dripping caviar and gooey liver paste. I winced as a terrific pain shot through my groin, my heavy nuts throbbing in protest.
"Kee-rist!" I yelled in pain, and then tried to regain my cool as I gingerly wiped the sticky drippings off my hairy belly and chest. My hand itched to caress my aching privates.
For a few minutes, all my attention was concentrated on cleaning the food off my body, but a high shrill laugh in my ears forced me to look up. I was face to face with the cause of my embarrassment a doll-sized honey-blonde with long silken hair cascading softly over wide, boyish shoulders. She held one dainty, well-manicured hand over her mouth as she laughed so hard at my discomfort, that her sparkling diamond necklace and earrings danced up and down, and her well formed titties almost bounced out of her low cut, mini skirted evening dress. In spite of the obvious feminine mannerisms, her small lean hips and knotted baseball calves, which tensed as she stood in her high heeled pumps, looked suspiciously male. Even more suspicious was the dark shadowy stubble peeking through her overly made-up face.
"Dammit, Priscilla! Now look what you've done, girl," Yetta Mae scolded, as she and Felix rushed about scraping the scattered and splattered hor d'oeuvres off the floor, replacing them on the tray. "These mother canapes are absolutely ruined! And they're so bloody expensive!"
"Is that all you're worried about?" I yelled in a fury, clumsily picking sticky black globules of caviar out of my wiry crotch hair. "What about me?"
Yetta Mae and Felix looked up at me as if I were a stranger, obviously annoyed at my protests.
"Eeeeeeeek! A monster!" Priscilla cried out in shock surprise as her heavily lashed china blue eyes lit on my thick hose still dripping with foodstuffs. Her movements were so slow and dopey, I suspected she was stoned stupid on grass.
"Hey, I dig the psychedelic fingerprinting!" she hiccupped, reaching out with one brightly painted red nail and scraping a tiny morsel of caviar from my dangling fullness. She sucked her finger with delicious noises, her long, sinuous tongue darting in and out of her ruby red overly painted shiny lips. "Hmmmmmm, good! That's really a collector's item you got there, sweetiepie. Now I know what they mean when they say, 'it's what's up front that counts,' " Priscilla doubled up in glee, absolutely gassed at her own joke, and almost fell over, teetering tipsily on her wobbling high heels.
"Now Miss Priscilla, you know damn well Aunt Consuela is waiting for you to help entertain your guests," Yetta Mae spoke to her as if she were a naughty little girl, and started cleaning the mess off the kitchen floor with a large dish towel.
"Fuck those stuck-up bitchin' leaches!" Priscilla bawled loudly enough to be heard in the next room. "That bunch of piss elegant old vultures only came because of auntie's free food and drinks. The generation gap out there is wider than your snatch, Yetta. Those old farts can't wait to split as soon as we've filled their beefy-faced garbage disposals."
"Don't get uptight now, baby doll," Felix interceded, as he stood quietly at the serving counter arranging another silver tray with more fresh canapes. "That's just what this rented dude
"And that's why your dear auntie wanted you at the door, princess," Yetta Mae chimed in soothingly, as she casually wiped off my food stained massive biceps and steel hard stomach with the grimy dish towel. "By the way, this hung hustler here was hired tonight as your surprise 'coming out' gift."
"Are you ready for that?" Priscilla gasped incredulously, as her baby blue saucer eyes finally took in the full glory of my stupendous organ. Without wasting a minute, she let out an earsplitting war whoop not at all lady-like and plunged for the kill! Blase as I am, I gasped in surprise as Priscilla fell to her knees, thrust her head forward, stuck out a tongue like an anteater, opened her mouth wider than seemed possible, and slurped up my "prize package" with one greedy gulp, her long fingernails digging sharply into my hairy thighs. I groaned one long groan as her pleasure-giving tongue swirled and sucked up my lengthening dick with relish.
"Not now, princess later!" Yetta Mae struggled to pull Priscilla off my glistening monstrosity. Very reluctantly, Priscilla gave up her delicious prize, inch by inch by inch.
"Here you go, buster," Felix ordered, shoving a freshly loaded tray under my shiny stiffness. My mind whirling, I automatically grabbed the silver tray. Motioning for Priscilla to get out of the way, Felix walked behind me, and with both his big hands, shoved me with all his might right through the swinging door!
Trying to keep my balance, I yelped in panic as I flew past Yetta Mae and Priscilla through the door, like a battering ram and smack into the living room. The stacks of canapes bounced and jiggled, and right in the middle of the tray loomed a long shiny, wet apparition my throbbing bright pink prick in full erection.
"Oh, there you are, hon," Mrs. Rigsby greeted me casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be served by a nude waiter with a stiff cock. She was holding court in the middle of a group of elderly guests, obviously relatives, who sat in one long deadly serious line on a jumbo sized, expensive looking sofa. They were trying hard to look at ease in the aristocratic surroundings, but, by their uneasy behavior and tacky looking, small town dress up clothes, it was apparent that they were out of their element. Their faces showed their annoyance with the earsplitting music coming from the teenage rock band playing wildly in the opposite corner of the lavish penthouse living room.
"You may start serving these folks first, if you please," Mrs. Rigsby ordered, her voice full of contempt as she rolled her pop-eyes in derision. Then without further ado, she walked away and joined the kooky looking mixture of younger people, mostly dressed in mod, way-out bizarre fashions, gyrating to the zonky soul sounds of the rock beat. I looked over enviously, wishing I could pass up the grim bunch on the couch and start serving the younger crowd right away. In their flamboyant, brightly colored clothes, they frugged away, silhouetted against the backdrop of the enormous floor to ceiling window which looked out onto a terrace, and beyond that, to a fantastic bird's-eye view of the entire city twenty stories below. The only thing to do was to feed the old buzzards fast, and then really get started with Mrs. Rigsby's promised hell-raising 'coming out' party.
"Feeding time at the zoo," I heard a hot whisper in my ear, and looked around just in time to see Priscilla shove her hand up the warm crevice between my firmly shaped buttocks. I winced, but tried not to show my surprise as she poked one sharply pointed fingernail up to the knuckle inside my tightly constricted rectum. I gave her a dirty look, but, wild character that she was, Priscilla only giggled uproariously in that high-pitched, irritating shrill way that was beginning to drive me up the wall. The old crowd, all nine of them, turned their sagging faces as if on cue toward us, as Priscilla's laughter still rang out. By now, I stood directly in front of them with my tray before me. Nine pairs of eyes bulged and ogled in disbelief at the sight of my massive hard-on throbbing in rhythmic pulsations between the caviar and the pate de foie gras.
Priscilla had maneuvered me almost into the lap of a wrinkly suburbanite-type lady, who was backing off, terrified at my upright quivering weapon. I smiled at her invitingly.
"Try this delicious looking tidbit, Grandma Agatha. The one right here next to this large hairy covered testicle," Priscilla purred sweetly. Then she daintily picked up the choice morsel, making sure she had rubbed it firmly against my loosely hanging sac, and presented it with a flourish to the disgruntled old woman who took it as gingerly as if she were picking up a dead mouse.
"Uh, thank you, Priscilla," Grandma Agatha murmured, trying desperately not to show her distaste, her eyebrows raised so high, they threatened to vanish under her hairline. "You're certainly looking pretty as a picture," she lied, as she furtively folded the hors d'oeuvre in her napkin. By now, her eyes were riveted on my heavily veined, still one hundred per cent steel hard erection.
"Push on," Priscilla ordered nonchalantly, as we moved over to a spaniel eyed, big jowled senior citizen, whose face was beet red with embarrassment. He didn't even dare look at my menacing flagpole.
Suddenly, the noise of loud clapping came from the young crowd of dancers at the other end of the room as Yetta Mae entered carrying a large silver tray filled with glasses of sparkling champagne. In seconds, the tray was empty, and everyone was drinking and toasting Priscilla. I looked over wishing I could join the fun and games. Priscilla pinched me painfully on my left ass cheek to get my mind back on my work.
"Ouch, you little freak!" I cried involuntarily, and then caught myself short.
Ignoring my insult, Priscilla slowly and studiously surveyed the display of canapes. "Now, let's see. What special treat shall I pick for grandpa just to show there's no ill feelings because of the malicious gossip he spread about my sex-switch?" I looked over at grandpa who was stubbornly resisting even a blink in our direction.
By now, the attention of the oldsters was concentrated on Priscilla and her nasty little game. Loving every minute of it, Priscilla carefully picked up a diamond shaped piece of toast covered with Bayonne ham and placed it exactly on top of my fat, round cockhead. To make sure it wouldn't slide off, she cemented it down with a big glob of sweet butter.
"Just for you, grandpa," Priscilla almost drooled, rubbing her bejeweled hands together, taking childish delight in her little joke. "Here pick it up!"
Sighing in resignation and not wanting to make a scene, grandpa reached over blindly, not even looking, and grabbed both the ham covered bread and the upper third of my butter smeared peter.
"Ick!" grandpa cried, absolutely aghast as he drew his hand back and wiped his greasy fingers on his coat lapels. Both Priscilla and I really cracked up, howling and cackling. Embarrassed, but anxious to retrieve his dignity, flush faced grandpa reached over again, and skillfully dodging my dick this time, managed to snag the hors d'oeuvre which had fallen off my bell-like cocktip and was now nestled in the cradle of my two balls.
"O.K., that's enough of this shit with the social security squad!" Priscilla remarked, bored with her little game. She grabbed the tray from me and shoved the whole thing into the lap of one of her startled aunts. "Serve yourselves, old timers, because we're moving over to the land of the living!" Then she grabbed me by the penis and dragged me toward the other side of the room. "Music, maestro!" she shouted at the startled rock 'n' roll band. "It's show time!"
"Oh-oh, look out! Miss Priscilla's off on another sex trip," Yetta Mae remarked apprehensively, as she glanced over at the disgruntled older clique. They sat squinting at Priscilla, waiting for the worst to happen. "All hell's gonna break loose now, for sure!" Yetta predicted, shaking her bushy natural sadly. The younger set gulped the refills of champagne Yetta Mae poured freely right and left, and watched Priscilla spellbound with anticipation.
"My sugarplum is so talented," Mrs. Rigsby exclaimed, clapping her braceleted hands until the rock group took the hint and broke into a raucous rhythm that matched her beat. "Shake it, precious! Show them what a real lady can do!" she shrilled.
like an experienced burlesque stripper, Priscilla threw her boy-girl torso into a sizzling strip routine, matched solidly to the pulse of the earsplitting music. Tossing her head, she smiled theatrically at the gaping youthful bystanders, who clapped and hollered like regular burlesque fans, while slurping up more and more champagne. Laughing like a fool, Priscilla shimmied and undulated in utter abandon. With her as inspiration, the musicians improvised sounds which swept over us in wave after wave of ecstatic frenzy.
I stood, dazzled by the sight of this effeminate pansy transformed by a medical miracle into a woman. There she was right in front of me, sweeping her languorous eyes under long lashes over my athletic physique. Her sultry dance was deliberately centered on my extended hardness. Her long red tongue licked her ruby lips slowly and erotically.
"This is the way we do it in the big-time, honey," Priscilla bragged, as she began her impromptu peel, slowly unzipping the back of her bright fuchsia colored evening dress. I tried not to miss a single movement as she twirled around me with dizzying speed. Her routine would have put an old pro to shame. It was smooth, and it was way out!
"Take it off, take it off!" the kids shouted, as they guzzled the abundant bubbly, and begged for more. " 'Come on out,' Priscilla!"
In contrast with the younger crowd, the deadpan faces of the older group were now congealed into masks of frozen horror at the antics of our dancing transvestite. They obviously hated every minute of the show they were being forced to watch.
With lady-like grace, Priscilla slowly plucked the jeweled spaghetti straps of her flimsy gown off her wide bony shoulders, and as the top of her dress dropped, she held the bodice against her bouncing, jello-like breasts with her other free hand.
"Isn't she too much?" Mrs. Rigsby screamed with delight to everyone, mimicking her niece's moves with grotesque gyrations of her pear-shaped bottom. "This is definitely where the action is at, hey kids?"
"Let it all hang out!" the hysterical young group yelled, ignoring poor old Consuela, and screaming in absolute chaos, as Priscilla, the fag-in-drag, obediently dropped the upper half of her dress, exposing two bare firm, milk white mounds which swayed freely in time with her hypnotizing footwork.
"Isn't my niece a gorgeous child?" Mrs. Rigsby raved on, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening. The half stoned, half plastered youngsters were drinking in Priscilla's silicone pumped up knockers, as well as the fresh transfusions of champagne thoughtfully provided by the efficient Yetta Mae. "I just adore today's youth," Consuela Rigsby remarked to nobody in particular.
Suddenly, Priscilla went down on her knees before my widespread pelvis. She wiggled her square shoulders back and forth, so that her big round boobies rubbed sensuously against my thickly veined manhood. My massive pillar stood stark and upright, throbbing rhythmically. The titillating sensations stirred up lustful desires in my pent-up groin.
"Jesus!" I cried out, reaching for Priscilla's mocking face, yearning to fill that warm, devouring mouth with my fullness once more. Giggling crazily, Priscilla dodged my grasping hands, yanked down on her disheveled gown and panties, and stepping out of them, stood there, bare ass naked! Waving the discarded garments victoriously over her head, she pranced and preened herself before the encouraging cheers of her zonked out young guests.
All eyes now zeroed in on the man made silky-haired vagina, a perfectly shaped fountain of love encased between the freak chick's smooth, velvety legs. There were deafening applause and drunken hurrahs from the sex crazy group in tribute to the stripper's grand finale, as well as the medical miracle. Even the blase teenager musicians almost stopped playing to join in appreciation of Priscilla's dazzling performance.
"Isn't that Miss Priscilla cute as a kitten?" Yetta Mae asked wide-eyed as she offered yet another lethal tray of champagne filled glasses to the glassy eyed guests. "She certainly looks like one of them Las Vegas showgirls, if you ask me."
Obviously elated by all this praise, the by now panting Priscilla stood and drank in the applause. like a real drag queen, she slowly rotated her yummy shape for all to see and enjoy. I just couldn't get my eyes off the front of her newly carved out womanhood. I was getting horny as hell just drinking in the sight of that made-in-Sweden box, that creamy complexioned, well-rounded fanny, and the overblown charms of her siliconed bosom. I had to admit it, this ersatz curvaceous cutie had put on one hell of a good show!
Just then, and almost in unison, the entire group of glum-faced oldsters rose from the long sofa on the other side of the vast living room and headed for the elevator.
"Oh, not leaving, are you?" Mrs. Rigsby asked in mock anguish. "The party's just beginning, you know."
"We've had quite enough of the freak and the grotesque," Grandma Agatha scolded, speaking for the group. "Goodness knows, I try to be broadminded, but this is too much! Just an impotent boy masquerading as an impotent girl sex change or no sex change!"
"Absolutely shocking!" grandpa chimed in from in back of grandma. "This so-called sexual freedom is nothing, but an excuse for giving in to animal appetites. I'm ashamed of you, Consuela, at your age! It's enough to make one want to vomit!" he added, as he waggled a long bony finger in the faces of our puffing hostess and her sweating sex siren niece. "What a blemish you are to the proud legend of American womanhood!"
"Who gives a shit what you old farts think!" Priscilla spat out, obviously annoyed by the fact that not everyone loved her. "Christ knows we don't need you anymore, so get the hell out ... our ... out!" Her scarlet painted lips parted in an ugly snarl.
The nine disapproving old timers disappeared silently into the elevator.
Thank God! So much for the establishment!" Mrs. Rigsby motioned to the rock 'n' roll music-makers to carry on. "The real party's just begun!"
"Come on, rent-a-boy, lay a little love on me," Priscilla ordered, stretching her thin arms toward me. I drank in her full ripe orbs and the furry triangle of her newly shaped, pink-lipped twat.
Hoping to put on a good show for the hip crowd of youngsters who clustered drunkenly around us, I slowly approached the waiting nude debutante, my hands reaching out for her two bare balloons. The atmosphere of the room became electric with excitement as the champagne drinking guests encircled the two of us like a pack of sex-hungry wolves.
Very dramatically, I began to caress and knead Priscilla's firmly siliconed globes, cupping the up-thrust bosoms for all to see. Then with my fingers, I slowly pinched and pulled on the erect buttons. The fleshy breasts bounced up and down before the hypnotized crowd. With everyone intent, waiting for my next move, I rubbed my hairy chest against Priscilla's big softies. The electricity between our bodies awakened the pent-up urge in my crotch to really try out that "miracle" cunt, pressing against the red-hot head of my pulsing hard-on.
"Lay it on her, stud!" came the urgent chant from-the overwrought kids, as they began loosening up their mod attire, getting ready for anything and everything.
"He's available twenty-four hours a day, you know. Just dial 'L' for lust," Mrs. Rigsby exclaimed, laughing at her own joke. Ignored by the youngsters, she stubbornly kept time with the music, clapping' her big bony hands together.
I grabbed my stiffness and rubbed the bulbous cockhead up and down the soft lips between Priscilla's outspread legs. Then holding her lean hips firmly, I pushed forward little by little, letting my sex-horny audience watch the swollen bell-like head of my cock disappear into the hairy crevice of her pussy.
"Oh, my God!" Priscilla moaned in mock tragedy, playing up our little show for all it was worth. The fun-seekers huddled around us, lapping up every intense moment. "Give it to me, muscles," she begged in a low, masculine whisper.
With slow and exaggerated circling movements, I screwed my pressing joint inward. The tight warmth of her snatch sent shivers through my veiny rod. Suddenly, a long-haired chick, unable to stand the strain, leaned forward and shamelessly grabbed hold of the still exposed shaft of my loaded cannon. As she squeezed it, I smiled at her through half closed eyes and forced my muscular endowment to pulse in her trembling hand.
Not to be upstaged, Priscilla reached out for the hand of the closest swaying youth, and pressed it over one full bust. Needing no further invitation, he moved right in, and in seconds, was sucking hard and noisily on the perfectly formed roundness. Priscilla barely had time to turn her head before another guy's mouth was working over the other tit. She rested her delicate manicured hands on the two bobbing heads and laughed crazily toward the chandeliered ceiling.
Annoyed by Priscilla's beating me at my own game, I leaned over to the left, clutched the front of an attractive chick's flaring pants, and pulled her roughly toward me. I massaged the soft material covering her heavy bush, and in response, the girl frantically began unzipping her clothes and pushing them downward. Now the "orgy" was really getting underway. Turning to my right, I reached out to another half stoned doll, pulled her flimsy blouse out of her bell-bottoms, and ran my warm hand up under the see-through shirt, squeezing and pressing her fresh perfect mounds.
Priscilla was making animal sounds deep in her throat, and twisting her head awkwardly up and sideways, as she tongue-kissed the guy standing directly behind her. His body pumped hard and fast against her bare backside.
Strangely enough, even with this help, my slippery and relentlessly prodding cocktip couldn't seem to pierce any deeper into Priscilla's widely stretched pinkness. Droplets of sweat ran down my forehead as I felt up one chick's quivering boobies, fingerfucked another's contracting wetness, and went on unsuccessfully plunging and plowing into Priscilla's unyielding, resistant centerspread.
like a mythological sex goddess, Priscilla stood rooted to the spot, reveling in the erotic joys of her four-way tribute. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that two male heads were already feverishly gnawing on her voluptuous knockers between our love-locked bodies, she now also had both hands busy, simultaneously jerking off two more half dazed drunken kids, whose roaring erections were exposed through the flies of their skintight mod slacks.
By now, I was getting turned off by so much overheated competition. I let go both my panting broads, grabbed the two hairy male heads directly in front of me, and pulled them from Priscilla's fullness with a vicious yank. "Fuck off!" I ordered angrily. They stared at me blearily, their drooling grins showing they were just waiting for me to let go so they could dive back into Priscilla's playpen.
"Don't be a drag, call boy. It's my party and you're paid for so relax. You only 'come out' once, you know," Priscilla whooped happily. The tight circle of drunken faces echoed her, cheering and yelling even louder than the blaring rock band, their hot breath and perspiring bodies becoming stifling in the overcrowded corner. "And forget about my downstairs, kiddo, because that's as deep as it goes," she laughed wildly. She pulled her hotness away from my jabbin weapon.
"Sorry about that, but as my dear auntie always says, 'different strokes for different folks.' Try the other end it's tighter anyhow," she quipped. Struggling to turn completely around in our crushing circle, she bent halfway over, so that her bare-bottomed cheeks pressed warmly against my throbbing pillar.
Madder than hell at her flip attitude, I got a firm hold on her lean hips with both hands, pressed the pulsing head of my lengthy hose between her velvety buttocks (tight against the hairy inner hole), and with all my strength, shoved my nine inch cramming tool like an avenging club upward into the very depths of her juicy canal.
Much to my disappointment, Priscilla didn't even whimper! She was too busy monkeying with someone's trousers in front of her, her honey-blonde head bobbing up and down, as she began sucking. At the same time, she kept jerking off the hard-ons to her left and right.
I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and like a battering ram, deliberately drove my shiny column in and out of the delicious feeling tunnel, my muscular legs straining with each mighty thrust.
Then all hell broke loose! The whole animated crowd of youthful onlookers started tearing off their clothes, pawing each other in a delirium of lust, and falling all over us their hands, mouths, and bodies feeling, touching, and tasting us in mass orgiastic hysteria.
At that exact moment of all times I felt sharp fingernails piercing painfully into my bare skinned shoulder. Grimacing, I turned around and saw Consuela Rigsby beckoning to me. She motioned wildly for me to follow her over to a quiet spot. Reluctantly, I withdrew my drenched machine from the seductive ass hole, and pushed my way through the clenching, clawing, maddening group, still tearing greedily at my bruised body.
"Angel puss-likes variety, hon, so let's give the others a chance, huh? I have another job waiting for you anyway. Follow me, please," Mrs. Rigsby commanded, her bulging eyes glancing down with approval at my glistening "prize package."
She was still the boss, so I tagged along behind her obediently. I looked back, reluctant to leave the sex-mad party-goers who were so together, their clothes flying high in the air and their bodies wrestling on the long sofas. A complete chaos of sound and movement filled the immense room with an earsplitting din of music and lust.
Tiptoeing down a thickly carpeted hallway, we left the noise far behind us and finally stepped through another door. Me first, then Mrs. Rigsby right behind me. We were now in a lavishly furnished and spacious bedroom, obviously Mrs. Rigsby's. A quick look around showed a king sized bed dominating the center wall of the room. Two gigantic chandeliers sparkled overhead. At the opposite end of the room in a heavily draped alcove, a linen covered table was fully set with a filled champagne bucket, glasses, and more trays of canapes.
Then my eyes really opened in amazement. Three figures surrounded the table: In the middle was my old "friend" and client, Dr. Prickett. On either side stood Yetta Mae and Felix, their brown bodies stripped jay bird naked. Felix faced me with his dark hands resting on his small hips, his long black prick dangling down his hairy thighs. Yetta Mae posed seductively, one leg bent slightly, her thin coffee-with-cream colored arms folded underneath the enormous, outward thrust breasts. Dr. Prickett, in contrast, was elegantly dressed in full evening attire, his button nose raised grandly, high in the air. He ran his pale hand carefully over the sides of his highly teased, shiny white hair.
"Alrighty, everyone, let's get with it," Mrs. Rigsby broke in on their conversation, clapping her jangling braceleted hands together for attention. "Now that the kids are taken care of, it's time for our little love-in," she giggled girlishly.
"Yeah, let's get 'organized," Yetta Mae exclaimed enthusiastically, eyeing my wet stiffness, and licking her lips. "I'm ready for a real 'hard' time."
"Here's the big ladies man now," Felix joked, watching my swaying pole intently as I walked over. "It's going to be a 'togetherness place,' for sure."
"Kenny, my dear boy!" Dr. Prickett cried out ecstatically, his beady eyes drinking in my familiar fullness with relish, as he leapt forward to meet me halfway. "My, it's so good to see you again. It's been too long, honey."
I pulled away from his grip, a little embarrassed. "Small world, isn't it?" I laughed nervously, finding it impossible to keep my eyes off Yetta Mae's wobbling forty-eight inch titties. The saucer sized brown nipples seemed to never stop their circular movements.
"This sure is some lush pad," I tried to make conversation.
"You three go right ahead while Dr. Prickett and I down a bit of Dom Perignon," Mrs. Rigsby said. She sat daintily on the sofa beside the food and drink filled table.
"Who's this dude you're going down on?" I asked innocently, looking around the elegant bedroom for another guy. Everyone laughed.
"What's so damn funny now?" I questioned. Feeling like a fool, I fingered my hanging nuts nervously.
"You darling idiot! Dom Perignon was the name of the monk who, God rest his soul, left us the world's most civilized drink champagne!" Dr. Prickett chimed in, as he sat down grandly next to Mrs. Rigsby. She filled their two glasses from the frosty champagne bottle and toasted us.
'Who gives a shit!' I thought to myself.
"O.K., kids, carry on, and just do what comes unnaturally!" Mrs. Rigsby tittered like a schoolgirl, as she munched on an hors d'oeuvre with tiny bites, her greedy popeyes watching our every move.
"Yes, for Lord's sake, get with it!" Dr. Prickett gulped enthusiastically, his eyes shining with expectation. He swilled the frothy wine thirstily.
Puzzled, I looked over at Yetta Mae and Felix. They reached out and pulled me over to the bed.
"Listen, golden boy," Yetta Mae muttered under her breath, "Let's give 'em so good a show that it'll nail 'em to their seats! Consuela is no chintzy broad, and we'll all get an extra fat bonus for an eye popping threesome dig?" she added seriously, climbing on top of the big bed.
"If your head is together, Ken, you'll pick up on this trip," Felix advised me sincerely, stepping on the springy mattress and pulling me upward. "There's a lot of bread floating around through old doc's wealthy contacts, you'd better believe it! So let's rip their heads off, eh?"
"I can raise hell at the drop of a checkbook," I remarked slyly, trying to balance myself on the bouncy surface. "I'm ready to go, pal the wilder, the better!"
"One more thing, blondie," Yetta Mae smiled stagily, as she grabbed both of our cocks with her hot hands, and began massaging them lovingly. "Ole' lady Consuela likes to hear you rap about what you're doing and loud!"
"Uh-huh," I nodded, reaching over with both hands, taking one giant orb, and handling it as if it were a precious jewel. I chuckled to myself as I played with the soft spongy globe.
"It sure is neat to have some fresh blood to ball with," Yetta Mae, shouted in the direction of our eager audience of two. Pulling Felix and me toward her, she forced us into a tightly knit trio, and vigorously worked our heavy headed cocktips against each other in round tantalizing circles.
"Yeah, and framed in black and white living color, too," I answered, gasping deeply in response to the titillating sensations down below. I feasted my eyes on Yetta Mae's voluminous tan knockers spread overwhelmingly across my chest, the dark brown nipples in sharp contrast with my own thick growth of blonde hair.
"You sure have a terrific build like a golden Adonis," Felix complimented me in an adoring tone, as he ran one long black finger slowly down my washboard stomach to the flaxen tangle at my lower belly.
"I'm already hot for your beautiful kisser, busty," I murmured to Yetta Mae, reaching up with one hand to the top of her natural hairdo, and pushing down hard.
"Ditto, sexy," Yetta Mae replied, as she knelt down on the bed cover still holding our throbbing flagpoles tightly with her two hands. Without hesitation, she greedily shoved the shiny ends of both our manhoods, now slippery with our own fluids, into her widespread lips. She swallowed the two lengthy dicks clear to their bases with ease. This has got to be seen to be believed,' I thought to myself as I stared dumbfounded at her wild trick. Our twin male sexes slid in and out of her sucking mouth effortlessly, side by side.
"Eat it up alive, baby," I sighed, hanging onto the back of Yetta Mae's bobbing fuzzy head, as Felix and I screwed fanatically together into the hot, seemingly bottomless gurgling throat. I could feel Felix's warm arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled us closer together as the pleasurable delights from Yetta Mae's liquid filled and cavernous mouth sent floods of good feeling surging from my groin.
The sound of cheers and applause from the old-timer's rooting section across the room spurred us on to greater efforts in our superduper bare-assed spectacular.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, folks," Yetta Mae bragged, as she came up for air. I moaned unhappily as our glistening poles slipped out of her lips with a loud "slurp." She wiped her drooling mouth off with one dusky arm and motioned for Felix to lie down on the bed.
"It gets pretty heavy, I tell you," Felix promised me with a wink, as he stretched out crossways on his back, his dark head hanging backwards over the edge of the mattress. His thick lips hung wide-open, his tongue waggled expectantly.
"Go get it, sugar," Yetta Mae pointed toward his gaping mouth as she stood with legs planted firmly apart directly above Felix's chest. I looked over at her questioningly, but saw the light in about two seconds flat, and eagerly jumped off the springy bed to stand directly over Felix's face.
"Fill my head with your joint, stud," Felix begged. His hands reaching out, he grabbed my slippery monument and guided it between those great fleshy lips into the warmth of his mouth. I groaned ecstatically as I felt his all encompassing mouth slide clear to the bottom of my fullness. The hot breath from his wide nostrils ruffled my crotch hair and tickled my balls.
"Satisfy my soul, loverboy," Yetta Mae cooed, shoving her black, neatly trimmed heart-shaped bush into my face. She reached down with dainty fingers and spread the opening of her pink-lipped vagina invitingly. "I want to come till I went!" she proclaimed dramatically.
Trying to keep cool and not be completely carried away by the sensual suctions downstairs, I held the pussy folds widely apart, exposing the oyster shaped crevice. I moved my tongue slowly over the soft tenderness, purposely taking my sweet time. Yetta Mae purred like a kitten, gyrating her pelvis toward my probing tongue in perfect rhythm.
Still determined to put on a first-rate performance before the lustful eyes of our champagne drinking customers, I slowly swept my long, sinuous tongue inside the hairy-covered centerspread, lapping up the abundant juices with gusto. It was getting harder to hold back from a premature climax. The gratification from Felix's fantastic sucking on my deeply embedded sword was almost too intense. I kept my mind on my work by deliberately driving Yetta Mae half crazy with passionate tongue thrusts jabbing even deeper into her patch. Then moving my wiggling tongue upward over her hanging rubbery clitoris, I pushed three fingers of each hand easily down into the compressing hotness. That did it! Yetta Mae whinnied like a filly in spring, grabbed the back of my head, and smashed my face into the gooey wetness, almost suffocating me.
Pulling away from the warmth of her approaching orgasm, I reached up for the bigger-than-life hills standing upright and revolving gently, ripe and ready for plucking. Clutching the great balloons roughly, I drove my swirling tongue back into the fluid-filled cavern. Downstairs, Felix still held my pummeling joystick in his mouth, pulling in and out slickly, the pressing friction so intense, so beautiful.
O.K., gang, let's get down to the nitty-gritty," Mrs. Rigsby interrupted hiccupping, her words slurred by the effects of too much champagne. She turned groggily toward Dr. Prickett who was also obviously half looped. "I thought you said whatchamacallem was the most sought-after Lothario in town? So far, he's done everything, but just plain ole' fuckin'! "
"Take it easy, Consuela, my dear," Dr. Prickett drawled. "Everything's going to be O.K. Now, Ken bubbie, sweetie, chickie pie come on, cut loose! You kiddies just get in there and 'meat' each other head-on. You know 'cum' one, 'cum' all!" he jested. The two old fogies doubled up cackling and drooling with laughter at the corny joke.
That's all we needed to hear. like real pros, the three of us eyed each other and silently changed positions. Felix scooted down to the middle of the gigantic bed (still on his back), with his exposed penis up-thrust between his widespread legs, framed by the wiry bush at its base. His heavy testicles touched the sheets. Yetta Mae crouched above Felix's pulsing cockhead, and with one push, sat down hard over the cramming hardness. The long shiny black shaft disappeared completely into her descending posterior. As Yetta Mae let out a loud, dramatic wail, Felix's dark hands reached forward and around, clutching the giant sized breasts. He pulled her backwards, so that she lay supine over his body with his weapon securely lodged in her violated anus.
"Sock it to me, tiger," Yetta Mae cried out to me, one long slender finger pointing toward the gaping canyon between her spread-eagled thighs. "Gimme some belly love!"
Hypnotized by the slick pumping action of Felix's black rod in and out of Yetta Mae's wobbling rear end, I knelt down between their wide-open legs, and taking hold of my loaded cannon with both hands, steered myself into her parted target. With one solid thrust, I sank my monumental "prize package" deep into her crotch. Her hungry cunt muscles contracted in spasms around my enveloped stiffness. I could barely hear the two old boozehounds applauding wildly at the three-way spectacle, I was so immersed in the smooth sensations pressing against my pride and joy.
"Your body was made for lust," Yetta Mae whispered lasciviously, as she reached up with both hands, grabbed hold of my bulging biceps, and pulled me down over her slowly revolving forty-eight inch bust. Felix's hands cupped Yetta Mae's behind as he continued to drive upward into the fleshy rump. "Fuck me, darling, fuck me!" she begged both of us.
Letting my whole weight drop on Yetta Mae's yielding torso, I pushed steadily into the voluptuous opening in total abandon. Yetta Mae's wide-open lips covered mine, as I sucked hard and greedily on her long probing tongue. Her arms wound around my neck in a vise-like hold and she grunted like an animal deep in her throat. My approaching climax was stimulated by the novelty of this bizarre three-in-a-bed sex sandwich.
With her passions fully aroused, Yetta Mae returned my wild jabs stroke for stroke. In our "no holds barred" group orgy, I was startled to feel Felix's hairy legs intertwined around mine, his fingers running through my curly head wildly. Yetta Mae, at the same time, clutched my firm rump and pulled me inward with flexing rhythmic movements as my pneumatic tool worked even deeper, probing her slushy innards. like sex maniacs, we drove ourselves to a near frenzy to quench our insatiable desires.
"I love the feel of your back all those muscles, daddy-o!" I heard Felix swoon, as his sweaty hands moved up and down my shuddering trunk lovingly.
I ignored his outbursts of passion, too busy forcing my own hands between Yetta Mae's sweaty breastwork and holding onto the bulging points of her jello-like bosom. Spreading her legs even wider, Yetta Mae allowed me the urgent freedom I needed. Our bare bodies merged in erotic ecstasy, the slap of flesh on flesh growing louder and faster.
"You're really together, Ken, you know that? Hold on to this feeling we got, baby," Felix babbled on half crazy, his fingers twirling inside my ears and beginning to tickle me.
Angrily shaking my head free of Felix's fingertips, I thrashed and pounded into the center of our axis like a stallion in heat, the sweat from my forehead dripping on Felix's face directly below my panting mouth. I tried to hold back just a little longer from the soaring eruption I was ready to pour into Yetta Mae's gushy pocket. Wave after wave of hot animal smells rose from our tripled fleshy heap.
"I don't know about you cats, but I'm into a special trip, and I'm going to shoot ready or not!" Felix gasped, his fingers digging painfully into my flexed biceps. "Oh, Ken go, Ken!" he begged in one long dying moan, reaching his own climactic ejaculations with writhing, twisting contortions.
"I'm being raped by two wild beasts, and they're tearing me apart! I can't take it any longer! Please no, Ken, not that! Yes, darling now! Make it happen!" Yetta Mae wailed deliriously. Her orgasm swept her away, her perspiring body stiffened, convulsed, and then jetted streams of jizz hotly over my tunneling monstrosity.
"Oh, no Christ Almighty!" I sobbed and shook violently as my final rising tide of excitement exploded, hurling blasts of semen into the gushing pit. Our slippery bodies slid back and forth, and our bellies rose and fell in quivering aching gasps. I forced myself to continue plunging into the overflowing come-filled hole with every ounce of strength left in my body. The noisy "squishing" sounds filled the quiet bedroom.
For endless minutes, we finally all lay motionless and spent, listening to our own labored breathing. The wild balling trio of a few minutes ago, now lay completely exhausted, but still linked as one. Yetta Mae's slushy slit pulsed against my entrenched erection. She pulled my hands from between our chests and the thrilling sensation of her slick tits sent another spurt of seed involuntarily into her pudding-like interior.
"Well, if this wasn't the liveliest, wildest bash in town, I don't know what was eh, Consuela?" Yetta Mae queried, flinging her arms outward in triumph.
"No bullshit, that was the best turn-on I've had in a long time. Ain't that what you call 'hard-core sex,' doc?" Felix asked loudly, his arms folded contentedly behind his curly black head.
"A cunt a day keeps the head shrinker away," I joked lamely, twisting around toward our distinguished audience of two. One look was all I needed. The bastards were sound asleep! After all the preliminary hullabaloo, there they were absolutely wiped out, their heads together like two puppies, their mouths wide-open, snoring. "Son of a bitch!" I cursed in exasperation. "Here I am busting my ass to give these old farts their money's worth, and they're not even watching!" With one violent jerk, I yanked my soaking pillar out of Yetta Mae's juicy haven, ignoring her loud complaint.
"Now don't get your ego-trip punctured, stud. It was a spectacular experience believe me! You're getting paid for it, don't forget!" Yetta Mae said, struggling to get up off of Felix. His slippery organ slid out of her drooling fanny with a noisy "slurp." Felix whined in protest, too, at the ending of a beautiful orgy.
I jumped off the rumpled bed, disgusted with the whole situation. "How in the hell do I get paid now?"
"Don't lose your cool, my hot blooded bronze apollo," Yetta Mae cooed sarcastically. Her eyes were still glued on my glistening prick, arched over and dangling loosely halfway down my wet thigh. "It doesn't hurt, but I sure know somebody's been in there," she grinned back ruefully, rubbing her sore privates as she trotted over in her bare feet to the snoozing couple.
I felt a surge of excitement in my groin as I ogled Yetta Mae's bouncy, swaying globes. She leaned over Mrs. Rigsby's slumped figure, reached down hesitantly and delicately plucked a crumpled check from the deep crevice between the wealthy dowager's ample bosoms. Waving it in the air, she sashayed over and held it in front of me triumphantly.
I snatched the paper from her hand and spread it open expectantly. "Fifty dollars! Is that all?" I grumbled, unable to hold back my disappointment.
"What's half a C-note, more or less, to all the bread you rake in every day from that flesh-for-profit agency," Felix laughed, resting his brown paw all too obviously on my knotted shoulder. He couldn't keep his greedy eyes off my stupendous "prize package" still covered with love juice. "Us workin' folk can't afford you, rent-a-boy, but if you ever want to double your pleasure again, there's two balling partners right here ready, willing, and able!"
"Consuela has your business card, you beautiful hunk, and we'll tell everyone we know what a big triple hit you were between the sheets you'd better believe it!" Yetta Mae promised, licking her thick lips.
"Yeah, sure, you do that," I tried to hide my chagrin as the dream of a nice fat fee vanished. Taking a last look around the costly boudoir, I noticed that Consuela and Dr. Prickett were still sound asleep. In fact, they had both slumped over onto the floor. "I'll get back to you guys later," I winked, and headed for the door leading into the living room, holding the check in one hand, since
I obviously had no place to put it.
"Peace," they saluted, both looking sad to see me go, their hands held high with fingers extended making a "V" sign.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I made my way back through the corridor to the noisy living room What I saw made me catch my breath. In my absence, the party had really gotten rough. The long divans were stacked with bare-assed couples, either wiped out cold or tangled in frantic love making. Directly in the middle of the room, a group of shouting kids, all in the nude, surrounded a spectacular show. Having little doubt as to what it was, I elbowed my way through the gaping long-haired nudies to the center of the circle. This time, Priscilla, the sex-switch queen, had outdone herself! With a giant-sized shiny pink dildo strapped snugly around her waist, she was thrusting and lunging ravenously into the pussy of a gorgeous redheaded doll who was spraddled from east to west under her.
'All that trouble to grow a twat,' I thought to myself, and here she is banging away like she really needed it! For a brief second, Priscilla looked up and caught my knowing glance. Reading my thoughts, she shrugged her square shoulders and winked broadly at me. Then letting out a piercing rebel yell, the freak chick went back to plowing into the shuddering crotch below her with renewed zeal. Her stoned audience watched her show-stopping number, hypnotized.
I turned and shoved my way through the pressing sex-crazed crowd. It seemed like a good time to leave the whole freaked-out scene. There was obviously nothing more for me to contribute, especially for a lousy fifty bucks!
I pushed the elevator button, stepped in and was already on the way down when it suddenly dawned on me I was still stark naked, and messy! Before I could press the "Penthouse" button, the door slid open, revealing the apartment entrance hall and five of the most startled faces I'd ever seen. Well, what else could I do? As nonchalantly as possible, I smiled and said, "Going up? The Rigsby party is open to invited guests only on the twentieth floor. Ladies to the rear of the elevator, please."
Melanie didn't believe a word of all this, of course. She just kept staring at the fifty dollar check suspiciously, shaking her pretty head and reminding me what a flop I was!
I guess what she doesn't know won't hurt her.
CHAPTER THREE
As I walked into the office, slamming the door behind me, I glanced over to see Melanie wince at the noise. She was lying on the dilapidated couch, an old army blanket pulled partially over her nude form, her voluptuous milk white breasts peeking sexily over the edge of the cover. Her pretty green eyes, now bloodshot and running, followed my moves woefully. She spotted the small paper bag I put down on the old desk. She sniffed loudly, and sneezed into a damp wadded up hankie.
"Hi, pretty girl," I tried to sound cheerful.
Melanie frowned.
"Here's some goodies for your cold, honey. You'll be back on your back in no time," I promised, trying to be funny as I pulled several small bottles from the bag and shook some pills out into the palm of my hand.
Melanie answered in a babyish voice, just looking for pity. "It's bad news this fuckin' flu!"
"It's only the twenty-four hour virus that's running around, honey," I sympathized. I trotted over to the tiny washroom, rinsed a dusty drinking glass in the washbowl, and filled it with water. "Here, boobie, drink this and rest," I ordered, handing her the glass and the tablets.
"Stupid ass cold!" Melanie scolded herself as she took the pills and glass from my extended hands. "What are these anyway? Sleeping pills, to make sure I'm konked out long enough for you and your two-bit chippie to make time together?"
"What are you rapping about?" I snapped in irritation, trying to hold my temper. "Don't forget, baby, you're the one who's pushing this money-making routine. In fact, I think you'd better check out what's up your ass, sweetie, because Dorothy Hotze was good enough to volunteer to take your place tonight at this convention. Otherwise, I wouldn't have a partner, plus we'd be minus a C-note."
"What dya mean?" Melanie sneered grudgingly and sniffed again. "Don't give me any mumbo-jumbo about that cheap floozy. If she sells her body for one hundred and fifty bucks a throw, why is she stooping so low to do my job? Not for the money, of course, if she's top dog, or bitch, as the case may be."
I rolled my eyes in exasperation, sighed, and walked over to an old desk, pulling out drawers and pawing through the clutter. "Where are my posing briefs?" I tried to change the subject.
"Third drawer down in the back," Melanie replied in a choked voice, as she let out another gigantic sneeze and reached over the side of the couch to yank several sheets of Kleenex out of a container on the floor. I caught a glimpse of one fleshy tit as it popped out from beneath the soiled blanket. One round pink nipple jutted upward enticingly.
"That's it come on, gimme a hard time," I continued our waspish conversation, stuffing the trunks inside the right pocket of my tight fitting jeans. "Listen, pumpkinhead, I'm going to give you the low-down just one more frigging time. Dr. Prickett called to tell us he needed a male and female to model and demonstrate up-to-date sexual intercourse techniques for a seminar class he's holding at the National Society of Obstetrics and Gynecology Convention in town tonight. Dorothy, a long-time friend of the doc, is substituting for you as a favor to him, more than for the moola. A hundred smackeroos is nothing to sneer at either, young lady, after some of the chickenfeed nudity jobs we've had to stomach lately. Didn't I tell you he'd be our contact into the big time?"
"Yeah, sure, I've heard that story before, kiddo, so don't start pulling that kinda shit," Melanie answered sarcastically. "I can't forget that 'top drawer affair' with the hoity toity Mrs. Rigsby. Boy, what a bummer that turned out to be! Fifty lousy bucks!" she needled me with malevolence.
"One, two, three...." I counted to myself and kept pawing through the messy drawer.
"What the hell are you looking for now?" Melanie asked, and then honked once again into her dripping handkerchief.
"Where's that damn silly coin purse of yours? I need cab fare."
Melanie pointed toward the beat-up file cabinet in the corner.
I walked over, pulled out the top drawer, and grabbed a brown testicle shaped pouch. Melanie's famous kangaroo scrotum purse was very big in Australia, but so what? Unzipping the flap at the top, I reached for the loose coins inside. "I haven't got time to hassle, babe, so cool it, huh? Must I remind you about the smoker you walked out on for the Amputees Sans Partners Fraternal Club," I needled her for emphasis as I tossed the scrotum-like purse back into the drawer.
"You no good bastard!" Melanie yelled, her red face a match for her cute red nose. "How would you like to be battered and rammed black-and-blue by a roomful of wheeling armless sex-starved cripples, for God's sake? That was a heavy scene, believe you me!"
I had to laugh as I walked over to her side and ran my hand soothingly across her feverish forehead. "Well, anyway, those are the breaks in this dizzy racket, doll," I shrugged my shoulders, leaning over, and kissing Melanie's exposed warm breast affectionately. "Now take good care of mommie while daddy's gone," I kidded, talking directly to the quivering blue veined orb. Melanie frowned. I gave her a wink and headed for the door.
"Oh, Kenneth," Melanie cried after me in a sickeningly sweet voice. "I forgot to tell you, the answering service called again while you were at the drugstore. I've booked you for a job later on after the convention with that dingy broad who wants a three-way sex thing with you and her four-legged mutt. Who knows, maybe Dorothy might want to make it a foursome just for kicks," she cooed slyly.
I glared at Melanie in disgust as I opened the door. "You know, for once you were right. Dorothy is top dog and you're the bitch!"
With that, I slammed the door hard behind me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Following the directions Dr. Prickett had telephoned earlier, I hurried through the chandeliered lobby entrance of the swank Holiday Ritz Hotel, traveled down the escalator to the thickly carpeted floor one flight below, and searched for a door with a sign reading "Valhalla Room."
It didn't take long to spot it. Stepping through the doorway, I was greeted by a roomful of chattering, animated swells, their excited voices filling the small room with an aura of anticipation, all waiting for tonight's lecture and live sex education class. As if on cue, the eyes of the entire group in the miniature theatre-like room turned my way. I smiled uncertainly as I saw everyone light up and gawk like country jakes at the lengthy bulge halfway down my clinging pant leg. Then nodding cordially, I headed for the other door next to the raised lecture-style stage. As I passed through several rows of lined up folding chairs, I noticed a double bed sized mattress lying in the center of the stage, directly next to the speaker's platform in full view of the nervous chatting audience.
Opening the door, I peeked into the cramped anteroom. Dr. Prickett (dressed in black tie and tux, and holding a script in one hand) stood there, and next to him (with her back to me) was the ripe, sexy figure of an obviously gorgeous woman. Two thin straps from her bikini stretched across her ivory colored skin. They were deeply engrossed in conversation.
"Is this the place for whores-in-training?" I joked, giving the surprised duo my best ail-American one hundred dollar grin.
Dr. Prickett threw back his white head and gave a short mirthless laugh. His eyes showed he was excited about my arrival and appearance.
The luscious sex-queen turned slowly around, commanding my full attention. I took in her curvaceous body and sensual beauty, and despite wanting to play it cool, I gasped involuntarily when I saw her complete nakedness. The skimpy bikini hardly hid anything. Never in my born days had I seen such a sensational dame! I drank in a long mouth watering look. The amply endowed proportions of this tall, slim knockout were enough to convince an unbeliever that this was the one and only goddess of love to peddle her hot hips in seventh heaven! Things began to simmer in my groin as I continued to look at the stunning leggy filly. First, I absorbed her long lustrous raven hair cascading teasingly down over a succulent set of breastwork. Then, I went on to her heart shaped face, decorated with God-given thickly lashed blue eyes, a flawless straight nose, and pouting rose colored lips.
Next, her bare-breastedness was a sight to behold! They thrust boldly outward, erect and proud, pushing against the thin net of the bra. Her jewel-like belly button was centered in a backdrop of a cream complexioned round belly, which in turn was framed magnificently by two softly curved thighs. The velvety sheen of her lengthy and well shaped legs drew one's eye from her beautifully lush hips to her small dainty feet.
Last of all, my eyes zeroed in on the V-shaped bulge of her black pubic mound, the bristly spread jutting sensuously through the tiny flimsy triangle of cloth, the two folds outlining the hidden crevice deep inside the core of her passion.
Taking in my lustful appraisal, she smiled, obviously proud that her body aroused me. I barely heard Dr. Prickett joyously babbling on as I stood hypnotized by those seductive hips wiggling toward me. Two well-manicured hands rested on the perfect curves of her small waistline.
"So this is the boy Virgin Prostie you want me to deflower," were her first words. Her honey-coated voice oozed with sex.
I laughed out loud, breathing in the expensive perfume that floated in overpowering waves from her direction. Gulping uncontrollably, I felt a deep stirring in my crotch as her half closed eyes stared into mine full of longing, then lowered to look with admiration at my manly pleasures. It was obvious we wanted each other bad!
"Well, kids, I can see the astonishment is mutual," Dr. Prickett interrupted our lascivious stares, trying to sound business-like. "This class can make or break my campaign for the office of
Hospitality Chairman of the National Society of Obstetrics and Gynecology, so I'll need your full cooperation. First, I'll formally open up the meeting, introduce you two, and then as I read from my notes, you'll both demonstrate the varied aspects of sexual intercourse to my accompanying descriptive text simulated, of course."
I nodded in agreement, wondering what "simulated" meant, as Dorothy licked her lips slowly, her eyes still fastened on my covered monstrosity.
Dr. Prickett looked at his watch, then said to me, "Get undressed, son, and listen for your introduction, O.K.? " And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out onto the speaker's platform. A round of polite applause accompanied his entrance.
I kicked my loafers aside and pushed my pants down hastily. My thickly veined cock and heavy balls bounced out in full view dangling loosely. Then yanking my t-shirt over my head, I stooped over, stark naked, and dug into my trouser pocket for the posing brief. I flinched in surprise as I felt two warm hands lock around my hips and a prickly bush press against my firm buttocks, grinding into me lightly, but sensuously. Grinning sheepishly, I turned my head to find myself looking into Dorothy's smirking face. Her eyes were half closed with lust.
Chuckling deep in my throat, I stepped into my bikini and pulled it upward around my hairy thighs. I jumped involuntarily as I felt a pair of fleshy knockers rub across my bare back, their pointed nipples digging into my skin. I shivered slightly as two soft hands ran across my matted chest, their long sharp fingernails digging into my flesh. I gasped in spite of myself as she nuzzled her head warmly into the hollow of my neck and helped herself to a lingering, sucking kiss on my earlobe.
"Hey, baby, you're gonna blow my mind and this job," I pleaded in a whisper, straining to pull away from her aggressive love-lock. "Gimme a break, wilya?" I panicked, noticing out of the corner of my eye the lengthening fat shaft pushing through my flimsy trunks.
Dorothy tossed back her long black hair and laughed out loud. I turned to look on stage toward Dr. Prickett. He was peering through the open doorway, obviously annoyed by the interruption.
In complete silence, Dorothy resumed her attack by purposely pulling down her flimsy bra, letting her round bosoms bounce up and down provocatively. I gawked, paralyzed, as she moistened her fingertips and slowly ran them over her rubbery upright nipples, sighing in mock passion, and rubbing her shapely long legs against each other in horny pantomime.
Backing away from this advancing sex machine, I suddenly realized that my steps had taken me out of the anteroom and that I was fully visible to the audience on stage, my eyes still bugged out at what I could see off-stage. There was a ripple of uneasy laughter from the surprised audience as Dr. Prickett threw me an angry glance, stopping his lecture abruptly. Then recovering his poise, he coolly introduced me to the audience as half of his specimen team. His eyes showed a certain greedy shock as he spotted the half hard penis thrusting through the sheer surface of my shorts.
Then there was another gasp and much giggling as Dorothy burst through the door toward the platform, wiggling her backside alluringly, her body an obvious sex mill if there ever was one.
The audience by now was wide-eyed in anticipation. She strutted in all her glory across the small stage and stopped beside me atop the mattress, waving one extended arm in response to the round of applause that greeted her bump and gring routine.
'Oh, no, not another Priscilla?' I thought to myself gloomily, trying to prepare myself mentally for anything that might happen during our little show.
"To continue," Dr. Prickett went on in a business-like tone. As he mopped his perspiring brow with a handkerchief, he became aware that all eyes were now focused on the shimmying, winking seductive siren. "To continue!" he repeated with emphasis. "Enhancing the love-making process against the double enemies of sexual boredom and frustration, I shall explain all sixty-nine sex positions in which a modern husband and wife can perform mutually gratifying intercourse. These positions will be illustrated by our simulated visual textbook here on stage."
This innocent remark was greeted by earsplitting whistles, cheers, much chatter, and scraping of aluminum chairs, as everyone fought unashamedly for. seats closer to the platform. Dr. Prickett looked both startled and pained by the obvious horniness of his academic colleagues. I sneaked a glance at the curvaceous bundle of tricks next to me as she busied herself smoothing down her hair, and showering the ogling drooling assemblage with big come-on smiles. Her stance was as perfect as a model about to go before the cameras.
"Sex is my business, and I love my work!" Dorothy joked like a stand-up comic to the screams of the excited crowd before her. Then she doubled up in laughter, her gorgeous face flushed at her own humor.
Dr. Prickett forced a polite laugh, shook his head, pretending to be mildly amused at her uncalled for witticism. He patiently waited for the chatter to die down and then opened his mouth to continue.
"I've been told I have a bustline big as a dairy bar," Dorothy interrupted, her hands caressing and spreading wide her monstrous cleavage.
The whole room broke up again. Over the pounding of feet and wild clapping, voices were yelling for Dorothy to "take it off, take it off!"
"Ladies and gentlemen please!" Dr. Prickett shouted in desperation, beating his gavel on the speaker's stand violently. "This meeting is getting out of hand and I'll simply have to call for an adjournment if you don't control yourselves." He stared over at Dorothy red faced and angry, and spoke out of the side of his mouth to her. "What the hell are you trying to do, you wench? This isn't Las Vegas, you know!"
The crowd finally settled down and only the sound of heavy breathing revealed their excitement. Dr. Prickett cleared his throat and looked to find the correct place in his script. "Now, we shall begin our first demonstration. Our two models will show us a number of contact and foreplay techniques that may precede the step by step sixty-nine positions in sexual intercourse as performed the up-to-date way.
Dr. Prickett turned toward the two of us and smiled coldly. The knuckles of his right hand which held a long pointer were white with strain. I looked over at Dorothy dumbfounded and smiled weakly.
"According to literature of the ancients, the art and technique of kissing was recorded as far back as 2000 B.C., particularly in India and China. Authorities agree that kissing is a basic preliminary to successful love-making, especially if intermixed with gentle fondling and stroking of various parts of the body," Dr. Prickett finished reading from his script. "Mr. Ken and Miss Hotze," he nodded toward us, "will now demonstrate." His eyes squinted challengingly.
Dorothy extended her arms in invitation. "Let's show 'em you're not just another well-muscled kid in a grown-up situation, stud," she whispered encouragingly.
Obediently I reached out to embrace her. Dorothy grasped both my hands and pressed them firmly to her healthy squeezable boobs. Then wrapping one arm tightly around my neck, while circling my waist with the other, she planted a direct hit on my kisser, driving her tongue into my throat. She pushed her hips against mine and strained to bring as much of herself as possible into contact with my body.
"Hey, baby, what gives?" I finally managed to gasp, as I strained to break away from her clinging hold, my fingers reluctant to let go of her full globes. "Back off, sex bomb, I'm getting a boner already," I lamented, trying to hide my half hard staff, the round pink cocktip already pushing stubbornly through my thin mesh-like briefs.
"Oops, I think I did a no no," Dorothy confided to our captivated onlookers, pointing down at my hands vainly trying to hide my growing manhood. "Sorry about that," she rolled her big blue eyes in pretended innocence toward Dr. Prickett, her gorgeously stacked figure shaking and gyrating like a burlesque chorine in a comedy routine.
"My mother warned me there'd be days like this!" Dr. Prickett wailed to himself, shutting his eyes and clapping one hand to his forehead. The whole room broke up in hysteria, buzzing with comments about the star of the show Miss Hotze!
"As they say, the next best thing to doing it, is viewing it!" Dorothy wisecracked, pulling down her teeny bikini bottom daintily and letting the attentive oglers get a quick glimpse of her neatly trimmed furry patch. After they got an eyeful, she let go of the elastic-type fabric so that it snapped back across her silky center-spread.
By this time, the entire front row of wide-eyed physicians leapt forward, falling over one another as they fought to touch or grab any part of Dorothy or even her elastic bikini.
"I've always said, group sex is an act of community love," she continued with her jokes, obviously lapping up every moment of her show-stopping number. "I just adore this feeling of having dozens of lusty eyes watching while I'm sexing, don't you?" she cooed, still clearly audible above the noise and racket from out front. I backed away. Even I was a little frightened by the sex crazed idiots in the audience.
"Order in the room, order in the room!" Dr. Prickett shouted angrily, banging the speaker's stand with the pointer, his face red as a beet. "Gentlemen and ladies! One more outburst of this nature and I'll be forced to cancel this class!"
Slowly and reluctantly, the horny crew out front returned to their seats, adjusting their clothing. The sound of panting was overpowering.
Dr. Prickett sighed in exasperation. "And you just you shut up!" he warned Dorothy, waving his pointer at her threateningly. She shrugged her shoulders, and placed her hands on her hips provocatively.
"Now where was I?" Dr. Prickett searched for his place on the sheet of paper. "Oh, yes, to continue with our second simulated demonstration," he darted a glance toward us. "Let us next explore the area of bodily stimulation and caresses."
Dorothy slapped her hands together approvingly.
"There has always been a mistaken impression that the husband alone indulged in aggressive activity toward his mostly passive wife. 'Au contraire,' in today's modern marriage, each partner must take on the responsibility for the degree of satisfaction derived by the other sex mate. This is today's way to obtain mutual pleasure from sexual intercourse. So let us concentrate controlling our emotions as we watched our two 'prosties' er, I mean, 'models' run through these vital movements."
"Relax, pussycat, just stand still, and let baby do everything," Dorothy whispered, her eyes roaming over my muscular physique lustfully. Without further ado, she reached up with her hands and placed them at the sides of my head, stuck out a long sinuous tongue, and leaning her head forward, began swirling it, warm and wet, in tiny circlets, starting first with my forehead, over both eyes, down my nose, and across one cheek to my ear. I flinched as her whole mouth enclosed one ear, her hot tongue driving inside. I laughed as I felt the tickling sensation.
"I really love your body!" Dorothy rasped, as her tongue twirled downward past my neck and onto my thickly matted blonde chest. Her teeth gently bit and rubbed across my tender nipples, then she licked wildly with the flat of her tongue from one rubbery tip over to the other.
"Oh, God," I moaned, trying hard to fight back the rising fullness in my aroused groin. "That's neat, baby, yeah," I choked, my eyes closed, and my head slowly shaking back and forth in delirium.
Dorothy giggled as she got down on one knee. Then moving her omnivorous tongue further down over my washboard stomach, she stopped momentarily to slosh in and out of the depths of my navel. Winking at the silent but spellbound audience, she grabbed my hips with both hands and forced me to stand sideways to the boggled-eyed crowd. Then getting down on both knees, she lashed out with her long, snake-like tongue into my spread of flaxen belly hairs, dipping teasingly inside the edge of my taut mesh-like trunks. The tantalizing feel of her circling wetness and the hot breath from her nose almost drove me out of my mind!
"Take it, babe now!" I cried out oblivious to everything, as I held her head with two hands and pulled it hard into my gyrating pelvis. "Put your red-hot lips where they belong!"
Dorothy let out a short laugh as she tugged free from my vise-like hold, pushing her long hair away from her beautiful face. "Easy, darling, and you'll last longer," she smiled in a business-like manner, forcibly turning my body completely around so that my bare back faced her.
I looked over at Dr. Prickett. His greedy eyes had joined the others in the stunned group and were taking in my lengthy joystick which now protruded halfway through my shorts. A shining drop of love juice oozed out of the vibrating cockhead.
My body jumped involuntarily as I felt Dorothy's fingernails dig into my broad shoulders. Her searing tongue now began a new and titillating route across my shoulder blades and down my neck, making my spine tingle with swirling sensations. Automatically, I reached up and grabbed her clinging hands. Immediately, Dorothy pulled them away from my grip and ran them down the sides of my quivering torso until they stopped at my waist.
I sighed helplessly as I felt the tip of her lapping tongue whirling madly over the cloth covered hairy cleft of my well-fleshed rump. "Jesus!" I sobbed, as that long thing licked over my shivering cheeks. "Get it in there, man!" I ordered, thrusting my fanny further up into her face.
Dorothy gurgled in triumph as she continued down my hairy thighs and lower leg muscles, kissing the knotty curves with half crazed passionate sounds deep in her throat.
I heard a wild round of applause and screams of "bravo, bravo" as I finally felt Dorothy release her sensual hold. I turned to see her wave one arm victoriously over her head. With the other, she wiped off her drooling lips.
"Perversion is the spice of sex," she proclaimed to her enthusiastic audience of frantic male medics. The females, almost to a woman, sat back in cold disdain with closed, tight mouths.
"What's next on the menu, teacher?" she asked Dr. Prickett with a broad smile, licking off her glistening lips and waiting expectantly.
By this time, poor Dr. Prickett was completely befuddled and lost for words. He pretended to be looking through his script, but actually was absorbed in hiding the stiff lump protruding through his own pant leg behind the speaker's stand.
"Between the two of them, they're going to drive me crazy, I can safely predict that," Dr. Prickett joked shrugging his shoulders helplessly, deciding to relax and join in the fun and games. After all, the whole thing had gotten so out of hand thanks to Dorothy that he had to win with her or not at all if he still wanted the office of Hospitality Chairman of the National Society of Obstetrics and Gynecology.
"Before we demonstrate the more acrobatic and complex sexual positions, let us ask our enthusiastic young couple to start off with the simple basic we might even call it classic face-to-face coital position which...."
"Oh, boy!" Dorothy interrupted Dr. Prickett excitedly. Falling immediately on her back across the mattress, she raised her legs high, straight up, and over her chest (her body like a jackknife), till her toes touched the mattress behind her head, and the entire pinking length of her gaping vagina lay exposed enticingly through her transparent nylon bikini. She beckoned to me impatiently, with both arms outstretched.
"Now just a minute, young folks, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourselves there?" Dr. Prickett pleaded, trying to hide his panic by giggling nervously and winking at the awestruck audience. "Dorothy, put your legs back down this instant!" he snorted from the side of his mouth.
Ignoring Dr. Prickett's protest and yielding blindly to Dorothy's invitation and the enticements of her up-thrust juicy bush, I fell heavily over her extended legs, my half hard sex lying over the parted dampness. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I maneuvered my pelvis into the pulsing center of Dorothy's quivering bottom. Hypnotized by the electricity generated between us, Dorothy puckered her lips slightly (her face pushed between her legs), begging to be kissed. We breathed hotly into one another's mouths.
"Ken, have you taken leave of your senses?" Dr. Prickett begged, completely taken aback by our unexpected behavior. "What are you two trying to do ruin me?" he asked plaintively. I felt him tug on my shoulders.
I pushed his arm away as if it were an annoying bug, oblivious to everything now except the pressure of groin against groin. Dorothy's fingers ran through my hair as she held my face against hers. Our lips met savagely, lustfully sampling each other's probing tongues. My steel hard tube was still wedged futilely in the folds of our sopping mesh-like garments, which only seemed to enhance my pent-up passion and the need for a complete ecstatic union.
"Now just stop that this minute, you two!" Dr. Prickett screamed hysterically, huffing and puffing, as he yanked on my trunks from behind. The fragile material finally snapped and tore apart. There was a loud gasp from the audience as the straps fell down my sides. I pulled my mouth from Dorothy's and turned my head around in time to catch a glimpse of my own bare ass.
"This burlesque of a serious course is just a filthy nudie revue, Dr. Prickett. Mark my words, you haven't heard the last of this dreadful display nor of the Board of Directors' verdict!" one plump, red faced committee woman shouted as she led a long parade of horrified ladies from the room. Their indignant chatter drowned out poor Prickett's attempt at an apology.
"Absolutely the lewdest show I've ever been forced to witness It's enough to make one want to give up sex!" the last outraged dowager glowered at Dr. Prickett with a cold stare, and slammed the door hard behind her.
"I don't know what all the fuss is about? It's supposed to be a togetherness meeting, isn't it?" Dorothy exclaimed innocently, pushing me rudely off her body. She lowered her widespread legs so that she now faced the cheering, hysterical all-male crowd head-on, the damp stain on her disarranged G-string conspicuously showing in the direct center of her hot spot.
"You gotta have a gimmick in this business, otherwise you're a dead chicken," 'Miss Show-biz' adlibbed further. Then with all the flair of a real trouper, she proceeded to unsnap her bra and fling it madly to the panting oglers. Her luscious knockers swung free and bounced up and down like jello.
"This is a nightmare! I just can't believe what I'm seeing!" Dr. Prickett put his hands over his eyes, then lowering them abruptly, glanced over the mob of whistling, frenzied delegates and toward the tightly closed door which led into the hall. "Gentlemen please calm yourselves. We may be raided at any moment! Everyone, please leave quietly before the hotel management...."
"There's more to come, folks," Dorothy interrupted, her fleshy orbs bouncing as she smiled at her audience. Then her fingers pushed downward in the exaggerated slow motion technique of a professional stripper shedding her clothes.
Without further invitation, the drunken doctors clambered up onto the makeshift stage. The rickety platform creaked on the verge of collapse as the horny student medics went berserk, digging and clawing at the laughing sex-selling exhibitionist. The ones in front had to beat off the others as they fought for better positions.
"Get that nymphomaniac into the anteroom before we all find ourselves in the clink!" Dr. Prickett shouted, helping me push back the frantic squirming mass of students.
One hand holding my torn modeling strap over the fat head of my stiffness, I reached out with the other, and grabbing Dorothy, pulled her roughly toward the door and backstage. She followed reluctantly, leaving behind the pawing and probing of thirty men. She obviously loved every minute of the commotion her shenanigans had caused. Dr. Prickett held the door open, one arm over his face to protect himself from the swinging hands of the fanatic chasers. I pushed Dorothy into the small room and just managed to squeeze my way through as Dr. Prickett slammed the door shut behind us. I locked both the doors that led into the tiny enclosure and heaved a deep sigh of relief. We could hear Dr. Prickett's cries for help through the door as the frustrated crowd banged on the wooden panel, protesting Dorothy's disappearing act.
"You sure know how to fuck up people's minds, honey," I panted, throwing my damp loincloth to the floor, my colossal erection still ready for some more sexual action, as it pointed stiffly in the direction of Dorothy's dark triangle covered only partly by the ripped G-string. A jagged torn hole dead in the middle beckoned like a bull's eye.
"They always told me I had a queen-sized appetite for bedroom balling," Dorothy bragged and went into side-splitting laughter. Her tousled hair, pink tipped boobies, and voluptuous torso bounced up and down as she guffawed at her own witty remark.
"O.K., prick teaser, let's start off where I come in again," I suggested. With both hands clutching my palpitating boner, I poked it against the moist folds of her hairy sex sheath.
"Play with it all you want," Dorothy cooed, as her hands found my organ and slid up and down its incredible length. "What a cock!" she gasped, rubbing the tip of my big dick over her twat in titillating circlets. She worked the bell-shaped cockhead inside her contracting walls with skill. I could hardly catch my breath as the vise-like pressure from inside her furry patch surrounded my weapon. Slowly, but relentlessly, her gripping pussy seemed to devour my pleasure-giving rod inch by inch by inch.
We became oblivious to the outside racket as I ran my hands through Dorothy's hair, and covered her open mouth with mine in a lingering kiss, welcoming her tongue as it reached the back of my throat. Downstairs, I stayed still and enjoyed the waves of electric ecstasy spreading through my crotch, as her tightness massaged my manhood slowly from tip to base, and back up to the head, again and again.
Dorothy ran her hands over my powerful arms, into the wet hairy dampness of my armpits, then her fingers slid around and traced the long lines of my back from shoulders to butt. Groping down between our bodies, she ran her hands sensually through my thick belly hair. I started to moan as she began jerking off my loaded straight-shooter, while her clamping canal still firmly held part of my peter. Her whole torso, slowly undulating in a rhythm that started with her head and ended at the tip of her toes, ignited a passion that seemed to grow in the very depths of my being. Animal sounds erupted from my throat as she continued to clutch and release me, time after time.
Abruptly, Dorothy turned her face from mine, panting and gasping for air. "Don't stop kissing me, darling, and whatever you do don't come!" she ordered, then smashed her mouth over mine again. Our tongues tangled and explored even more wildly within our drooling mouths.
She still had more tricks. Until this minute, she had deliberately held her fully packed titties a little away, but now she drew just close enough so that I could feel the motion of her bosoms swaying to and fro, letting her firm nipples rub erotically across my chest hair. My body quivered with these exciting new sensations. I slipped my hands down and over her velvety behind, stretching the soft cheeks wide, as she went on with the churning action down below. My palpitating hard-on stayed happily lodged to half its length in the juicy pocket.
Dorothy took my hands and guided them between our chests. Feverishly, I kneaded the round globes, my thumbs digging into the red-hot tips. I felt her hands grope between our bodies again. Then her fingers spread the lips of her opening wider, and with one final shove, she engulfed my slick monstrosity all the way to its base, blending our pubic mounds into a colorful black and blonde mesh. Our mouths still together, we both sighed, our hot breaths mingling in frenzied jets from our distended nostrils.
Dorothy's body rocked in fulfillment and writhed in ecstasy against mine. I felt a warm trickle of fluid run down my leg as I withdrew halfway from our moist union, then I drove back in ruthlessly, and out and in again, quicker and quicker. My legs strained and trembled as I leaned forward, giving all of myself toward reaching that ultimate explosion of mutual orgasm. Dorothy's vast breastwork heaved up and down between our sweaty bodies, adding an extra tingle to our joint fornication.
While still keeping the mouth to mouth contact, Dorothy got a firmer grip on my broad shoulders, and bending her trunk slightly, leapt upward so that her smooth legs locked tightly around my hips. Surprised by this sudden switch, I whimpered in joy as her spread-eagled snatch completely swallowed my plunging pride and joy. My loosely hanging balls were now softly slapping against her tender bottom.
The sweat dripped off my forehead and over our two faces as I struggled to pull my hands from between our compressed forms to help support this unusual sex lift. It took all my strength to control Dorothy's jiggling one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar-a-night chassis on the brink of culmination. Her heels dug into my back urgently and she wound her arms in a strangle hold of carnal desire around my neck. She moaned louder than ever, as I built up her lust with the piercing movements of my gigantic club.
Then she went into an absolute frenzy, pulling her smeared lips away from our slobbery kiss, screaming and biting, while exploding globs of steamy cream-like jizz over my jammed, saturated hose. "I need you right now, darling, so make it really good!" she choked, going completely bananas, as her gushing fountain of love bucked and squirmed with each uncontrollable spasm of her final climax. The loud sounds and smells of our movements filled the little room for endless minutes.
Finally, it all came to an end.
"God, you're beautiful!" Dorothy flashed a delirious smile, kissing me crazily all over my forehead and face. I felt her gorgeous legs unwrap themselves from their clinging-vine-like clasp. Her slippery breasts slid down my matted chest as her body returned to a standing position right smack against me once more. Her love-filled box still oozed her come over our soppy pubic hairs. "No wonder the doc's so nuts about you, lover-boy."
Now selfishly concerned with getting my rocks off too, I locked my powerful arms around Dorothy's waist, and like a live riveting machine, hammered viciously into her overloaded pit. With mounting passion, I worked for that last minute of wild ecstasy. Her body shuddered as the strength of my pounding movements forced her to breathe in short gasps.
"Tell me when, tell me when?" Dorothy pleaded, digging her sharp nails into my knotted shoulders for emphasis. "I like to know when you do it."
Not saying a word, with eyes shut and lips compressed, I plunged on in a delirium of ultimate urgency. I felt an overwhelming explosion ready to launch out, up, and through my loaded cannon, so I increased the pace, hotter and faster to bring on a supreme shooting spree.
"It's coming, it's coming!" I yelled like a crazy man, letting go of my bear hug, putting my hands on Dorothy's shoulders, and thrusting my pelvis upward in spasmodic jerks, my body arched over and my whole frame shivering with excitement. "Catch it, baby hold on tight to it!"
Without warning, Dorothy pulled away from my swollen prick, dropped to her knees, and like a devouring praying mantis, took the entire length of my jizz-filled staff in her mouth. She sucked ravenously, eyes closed, waiting in happy anticipation of my oncoming load.
"Man, what are you doing?" I choked deliriously, bending over her. My hands automatically pushed on the back of her bobbing head and my quickening rhythm finally broke as my hot cargo spiraled up through its searing canal, emptying jet after jet of bulleting thick seed into her greedy mouth. "Son of a bitch!" I sobbed helplessly. My whole torso seemed racked with one immense sensual explosion. Each discharge was another jolt of memorable body-shaking bliss. I hung onto the precious sensations with selfish lust.
like a super-efficient suction machine, Dorothy swallowed my enormously long spasms with deep, satisfied murmurs of pleasure. She moved her hands around to cup my quivering rump, reinforcing my pelvic jabs. She had to swallow fast as possible with loud gulps to keep up with the flood tide of my explosive coming. Unable to move, my mind was a blur of joyful satisfaction. Let's face it, it was a damn good professional blow job!
Dorothy hummed to herself as her lips held on firmly to the fiery lance still deep in her throat, drawing in every last ounce of the white sperm that shot forth involuntarily. like a willing captive, I let her have her way, savoring the situation to the full. My demented cocksucker kept right on with her assault, squeezing and massaging for all she was worth.
But even the best things have to end. Totally exhausted and drained, I rested my hands on her smooth back. "Dorothy, you were beautiful!" I laughed happily. "You're worth more than one hundred and fifty bucks, I tell you!" Between gasps, I kept talking, not wanting the suction ever to let up.
"O.K., kids, you can come out now. All's clear on the western front," Dr. Prickett suddenly whispered from outside, tapping softly on the door.
As a surprise answer, I stretched awkwardly over Dorothy's back (she was still on her knees with her lips glued to my throbbing erection, sucking up every last drop of thick love juice), unlocked the door, and pushed it open. I stood up straight, hands on hips in classic joint sucking stance.
Dr. Prickett stepped into the musky lust-filled anteroom, eyes bulging in disbelief. He closed the door behind himself quickly. Dorothy didn't even look up as she went on shamelessly eating away at my slippery fullness.
"Come over here," I ordered, reaching for Dr. Prickett's fly and quickly unzipping his trousers. He stared down at my hand like a robot, as I yanked his swelling peter out from the open garment. Then pulling him next to Dorothy's bobbing head, and withdrawing my own glistening monstrosity rudely, I shoved her open mouth (still drooling with my come) onto Dr. Prickett's waiting dick. Without any protest whatsoever, she took on the new assignment with enthusiasm. Dr. Prickett gasped.
"O.K., buster, hand over my fee. I think I'm caught up enough on the latest sexual intercourse techniques," I remarked dryly, bending over and picking up my clothes.
Obediently, Dr. Prickett reached inside his coat, brought out a well-stuffed wallet, pulled out several bills, and thrust them at me. His eyes were half closed and glazed over as the result of Dorothy's expert work downstairs.
I grabbed the money from his hand, counted it quickly, to make sure it was really a hundred bucks, and stuffed it into my jean pocket.
"I need some fresh air," I drawled, opening the door. "Call me, baby," I blew a kiss to the Doctor, trying to keep from smiling, as his crossed eyes were barely able to focus on me leaving. "Oh bye, Dorothy. It's been nice working with you. It's always good to meet an associate on one's own level."
like a real pro, Dorothy waved goodbye, gave me the "V" for peace sign with two fingers, and a final pat on the ass all without missing a stroke!
CHAPTER FIVE
I flushed the toilet in the office washroom, then peered at the reflection in the smudged mirror over the basin. I couldn't help gazing in admiration at the ruggedly handsome image which looked back at me. The curly blonde locks falling casually over the forehead, the thickly lashed blue eyes wide and innocent on either side of the straight manly nose, the high cheekbones and sexy full red lips. I opened my mouth in a broad grin and nodded in approval of the perfect set of gleaming white teeth that grinned back.
Having gratified my ego enough as a starter, I got down to the practical matter of getting cleaned up by turning on both hot and cold faucets simultaneously. As the loud splashing of water filled the dirty washbowl, I went back to gazing in wonder at the subtle curve of my smooth biceps as they flexed and relaxed. I ran both hands through the golden tipped chest hairs which clustered in dense sculpture-like ringlets from nipple to nipple. Turning off the faucets, I heard the office entrance door slam shut and Melanie's familiar quick footsteps hurrying toward me.
"Aren't you ready yet?" she scolded. She was holding a large wrapped package tightly to her bosom. "Look I've got it! Wait'll you see! It's beautiful!" She began tearing frantically at the ribbons tied around the box. "What the hell have you been doing while I was out shopping? Dr. Prickett said he'd be here at seven, and it's almost time now."
"Just relax, wilya? All I have to do is wash up, for Christ's sake," I replied irritably. Upset at having my one-man reverie interrupted, I grabbed the soap from the sloppy holder and lathered my hands. "I don't want you to give me a hard time, Melanie, just because I haven't signed that contract he left with you yesterday either. I know the old geezer's on the level, because he's a pretty sharp businessman, but if that fag-dressed-in-drag Priscilla is connected with the deal, I smell a rat! I still can't accept the fact that that queer freak will be my boss!" I shook my head in doubt, as I spread the soap generously over my face, ears, and neck.
"You son of a bitch, what do you mean you haven't signed it? I'll be damned if I'm going to hassle with you over this crap again!" Melanie screamed. "This may be our last chance to hit the big-time, and Priscilla or no Priscilla, I'm taking advantage of working for her and Dr. Prickett with or without you! I haven't heard about her saying anything funky because of you, kiddo, so don't use her as another excuse to avoid work! Dr. Prickett showed me his last financial statement, and the profits his organization brought in during the past year alone makes our two-man outfit look like shit city west!"
"Whatta you got in the box?" I rinsed myself off and changed the subject, not having a good answer to refute Melanie's protests.
"Oh," she squealed with excitement as she lifted off the box top, and pulled out a gold lame, very short, low cut mini dress. She held it up proudly against her shapely body.
"Neat," I nodded my head in approval. "Now before you throw a hemorrhage, I'd like to hear once again exactly what Prickett proposed to you yesterday." I grabbed the bar of soap again and washed under my arms. "You know, I wonder if Mrs. Rigsby realizes that her talented niece and favorite obstetrician run a successful statewide flesh racket together?"
Melanie unzipped her dress and pulled it off over her head. She was nude, without bra or panties. I stared lustfully at her fleshy globes swaying to and fro, and the soft red furry patch peeking out between her smooth legs.
"Well, Ken, Dr. Prickett has definitely assured me that this work offer is a clean proposition. Under his management, you and I would be the youngest, highest priced team of prostitutes contracted to his organization. He estimates that we would easily average an income of fifteen thousand dollars a year, plus extras. Also, with his contacts, our bed partners would be top ranking high society types and big-name show biz celebrities. Oh, sweetie, can't you see? No more of our own little poopy assignments and no haggling over prices with two-bit customers. We'll be working on a full time basis, and the agency even has its own hired henchmen to take care of collecting for unpaid sexual transactions. Now come on, it'll be easy money, high living, and the added thrill of belonging to the underworld. Doesn't that sound like too much?"
Melanie squealed with delight, as she scratched her auburn silky pussy in nervous anticipation.
T don't know about you, babe, but all the legal garbage in that contract looks like Greek to me," I remarked dryly, wiping off my face, neck, and underarms with the frayed washcloth. "The only thing I want to be sure of is that we can still secretly use Anytime Modeling for our own tricking pad and maybe some privately paid-for-love moonlighting to pull in a few extra fast bucks.
Then optimistically I made my conclusion. "If I do sign this contract, I figure we can retire in no time to a life of ease and luxury, and fucking only who we want then!"
"You know, you're something else," Melanie praised me as she stepped gingerly into her new dress.
"Yeah, I know," I agreed, watching her slip into the shimmering garment, her voluptuous knockers bulging sexily through the deeply cut V-shaped bodice, and her hidden sin pit almost peeking out from the just-below-the-snatch hemline.
Suddenly, there was a soft rap on the outside office door.
"Oh, jeez, that must be Dr. Prickett now. Hurry up and put something on," she ordered, running off to let him in. I heard Dr. Prickett's calm, well modulated voice greeting Melanie as they conversed familiarly to one another.
"Honey, Dr. Prickett's here," Melanie called out in a sickeningly sweet voice.
"No shit," I joked, nonchalantly stepping out into the main room, nude. I wiped between my legs with the washcloth, then carefully went over my widespread belly hairs, the dangling lengthy cock, and under the hairy testicles. Melanie frowned.
"Kenny," Dr. Prickett grinned, his eyes riveted to my moving hand. He looked very elegant dressed in an expensive Edwardian suit, a black briefcase in one hand. "You both can't imagine how much I've plotted and schemed to get you as part, of our organization. I mean, I used to telephone you every day, but you never returned my calls. I finally rigged up that bartender-in-the-nude routine so that Priscilla could personally meet you. From there, it was easy to work up a position for you two to fill. We have prominent clients, financially loaded and eager for young sexual companionship, especially an extremely attractive duo package such as you two present. I must confess, Melanie, that Dorothy was tried out with Ken at the convention seminar, but we found out the hard way, she only works well as a single. So now, you'll get your chance that is, as soon as you sign on the dotted line."
"Well, I'll be damned," I scratched my blonde head, seeing Prickett's whole plan clearly for the first time.
"Oh, Dr. Prickett!" Melanie shouted, throwing her arms around his neck tightly, and bussing him on the cheek.
"Wait a minute, Melanie. Hold your horses," I interrupted. "Listen, doc, my male intuition tells me to look out! Being tied up legally to that queer misfit scares me. I don't want to be pushed and end up conned into...."
"What are you rapping about, prick!" Melanie shouted angrily. "This is the chance of a lifetime, and you're acting like a knuckle-headed idiot! Just because Priscilla turned out to be a topnotch flesh pusher, your pride is hurt. You're too stubborn to admit that our two-bit office hasn't got a chinamen's chance in this dog-eat-dog love-for-loot competition."
She turned to Dr. Prickett and smiled up at him, batting her green eyes innocently. "You'll have to forgive Ken, sir. He just hasn't quite wised up to the realities of your hip modern day syndicate operation. I, for one, am truly grateful that you've gone all out to help us become a contributing part of your big-time organization. As you said just yesterday, sex news travels fast, and under your banner, believe you me, Ken and I will work our asses off to live up to our reputations as the hottest swinging young couple in town."
Then she turned to me and asked in a chill business-like tone, "Where's the contract?" Her eyes half closed in challenge.
Seeing that she meant business, I pointed toward the metal cabinet. "Top drawer, under the kangaroo scrotum." Without a word, she went over and pulled it out.
Dr. Prickett still seemed fascinated by my enormous endowment, now heavily arched over, but still hanging limply. "Believe me, champ, Priscilla was born with a rare and brilliant business sense. Considering her age sixteen years you can't knock her success, when you see in black and white the revenue she has pulled in from the price of vice in the body marketplace. And although I shouldn't tell you this, we use
Mrs. Rigsby as our 'front,' because her background is clean as a whistle and unquestioned. So it would be a pity if you passed up this opportunity. I may never be able to swing it again for you," he said plaintively, his eyes glued on my pulsing sex machine.
"Here it is, Ken sign it!" Melanie ordered, shoving the contract and a pen in front of my face.
Sighing in resignation, I took them, walked over to the desk, and signed on the last page of the impressive looking document. Somehow, I still felt uneasy signing my life away to that freak chick opportunity or no opportunity. I handed the pen over to Melanie. She grabbed it, signed quickly under my name, and looked up smiling triumphantly toward Dr. Prickett.
"Congratulations to both of you!" Dr. Prickett exclaimed in satisfaction, as he folded the contract and stuffed it into his briefcase. "And now for some good news! Your first job will be to take the place of a regular twosome, who are on vacation. This assignment will be your official baptism of fire. I have you booked for a foursome with one of the best known married couples in the movie business. In fact, they're practically legends! Now, because this King and Queen of the American cinema are very choosy when it comes to sharing bodies, I've convinced Priscilla that your particular talents are just what they need. To be specific, they requested two beautiful, youthful, well-built sex partners one male and one female with a wide knowledge of bedroom techniques and an equally shared desire for satisfaction.
Then he dropped the bombshell.
"Now, do you think you can handle all that, and more if requested, when you finally meet Bertram
Richardson and Ginny Wolfe?"
Melanie and I were speechless with surprise and shock. We looked at one another, but weren't able to get out a word.
"Did you say Bertram Richardson and Ginny Wolfe?" Melanie finally stuttered, looking starry-eyed at Prickett.
Dr. Prickett doubled over in laughter, amused by our reaction. Then he nodded yes.
"Kenneth, pinch me to see if I'm alive," Melanie whispered, looking up at me white faced and trembling. "I can't believe it! I mean, I was just reading today in a movie magazine that Mr. Richardson and Miss Wolfe were voted favorite male and female stars in the film critics worldwide popularity poll, and they've both been nominated for oscars again for the fourth time. like, wow!" Melanie put one hand over her mouth and belched in excitement.
"Isn't she supposed to be the most beautiful broad in the movies with monstrous tits and everything that goes with them?" I asked excitedly. "I wonder what her thing is?"
"Lots of screwin' what else?" Melanie smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary. "After all, sex is what we have to offer and we'll charm the pants off 'em, doc."
"I'm positive they'll be one hundred per cent thrilled, so hurry and put your clothes on, Ken. There's a Hertz rent-a-truck just outside which will whisk you secretly to their exclusive bungalow on the grounds of the Hotel Grand Chateau. Good luck!" With that, Dr. Prickett winked at me, his eyes reluctantly leaving my lengthy fat hose, then kissed Melanie fatherly on the cheek. "I'll make some final, but necessary phone calls in my car. You'll be expected when you arrive." He opened the door to leave.
I grabbed his arm. "Thanks, pal, and it's our financial pleasure."
CHAPTER SIX
Melanie and I were seated on a hard wooden bench inside the speeding Hertz rent-a-truck trying to keep our balance. Tense with fright, she pressed her head into the curve of my neck and we clasped hands in the safe warmth of my bulging crotch. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt, sending us sliding down the slick bench against the partition that separated us from the driver. We struggled to stand up in the cramped space as the back doors swung open and the burly chauffeur nonchalantly pointed over his right shoulder with his thumb.
"Knock first," he remarked dryly, taking a good long look under Melanie's shiny mini dress which had hiked up over her hips, as she cautiously stepped down from the truck onto the pebbled driveway. The smirk stayed on his face as he closed the doors and gave us a final beady-eyed once-over. Then with a screech of spinning tires, the truck tore away through the dark, sprawling woodsy hotel grounds past dimly lit bungalows toward the exit.
For a few minutes, we breathed in the fresh smells coming from the overhanging willow trees, and listened to the sounds of crickets and frogs filling the clean night air. Our destination, the moonlit bungalow that faced us, was even more picturesque than we had imagined. 'What a different world,' I thought to myself, as we started up the brick path leading to the vine covered doorway. Melanie's fingernails dug into my hand as we stood outside. We could hear sounds of music and dialogue from a TV program coming through the door. I fought back my nerves long enough to knock hard.
After a pause, the door opened. We were surprised to be greeted by our employer, Priscilla (the transsexual). A theatrical smile seemed frozen on her face, overly made-up to hide the heavy stubble which darkened her jaws. I noticed she was wearing the same evening dress, complete with jewelry, that had been her get-up at Mrs. Rigsby's "coming out" party. She held a glass of champagne which she sipped on thoughtfully, as she gave us the once-over, critically appraising our bodies as if we were prize cattle.
"Hey, Ginny and Bert, it's our jet generation kids!" Priscilla called out, as she motioned us inside and closed the door behind us. Apparently, we had passed inspection. "Lucky people a voluptuous oversexed nymphet and a superbly muscled surfer, hung like a young stallion and just for you!" she went on with her sales talk.
At first, we stared at our surroundings, then tried to see where the objects of all the shouting were located. We looked past the large vases of flowers and surveyed the huge fireplace which cast a glow of warm light onto the deep carpeting. Finally, our eyes zeroed in on two lushly upholstered armchairs, drawn up before a deluxe TV console. Over the backs, we could just make out the top of a woman's head in one, and a man's in the other. Her hair was deep brunette and unruly; his, thin, lank and gray. The TV set was tuned in on a movie of the forties. A love scene was in progress. Beside the chairs, her TV table held a silver bucket of champagne; his, a six-pack of beer and a greasy paper cone of fish and chips.
The two superstars of the cinema didn't even turn around to acknowledge us, as Priscilla went on pitching our merits and theirs like a used car salesman. "Mr. Ken and Miss Melanie, first, I'd like you to meet the glamorous actress and legendary film beauty, the one and only million dollar queen of the flicks Miss Ginny Wolfe!
We smiled like idiots waiting for some response from the chair, only to see a fat, pudgy arm reach out languidly to the TV table and unsteadily pour another glass full of champagne. Then it vanished behind the chair. The TV was still the center of her undivided attention.
Ignoring the lack of reaction to the sales talk, Priscilla went on like a good businesswoman, with undiminished enthusiasm. "And seated next to his lovely wife, our 'Queen of the Super Spectacles,' is none other than the Crown Prince of England's classical theatre, the renowned stage and motion picture idol, and one of the biggest 'talents' in the business Mr. Bertram Richardson!"
We turned our heads toward the other chair, and the balding head which showed over the top. The response this time was a hairy greasy hand which reached out and dipped greedily into the paper cone of fish and chips. Melanie and I glanced at each other in dismay.
Priscilla went on cool and unruffled. "I really am sorry that your regulars are on vacation, Ginny and Bert, but believe me, you won't be disappointed in this groovy tricking team. They're well versed in boudoir know-how and both have my personal stamp of approval. Well, I'll be off now. I'm positive this foursome will be a spectacular success."
Turning, Priscilla shoved a glass of champagne into my hand and gave us both a cold eyed look that seemed to say I dare you to flop at this assignment. One jeweled hand twisted the ends of her long honey-blonde hair nervously. In a voice hard as nails, she whispered, "I needn't remind you two that we've supplied this famous couple with an unbelievable number of kids of every size, shape, and color in the past. So don't forget, this is one of the big ones, an account that's life and death with me! I personally guarantee them complete satisfaction! And remember, I don't give money back to no one ever dig?" she concluded menacingly. We nodded our heads, by now scared stiff.
"O.K., now doff your duds, present your baskets of talent, get in there and fuck!" With that inspirational pep talk, Priscilla disappeared through the door.
Alone and silent, we stripped off our clothes. The only sounds in the room were an occasional burst of laughter or grunt of approval from the two box-office idols who still seemed completely absorbed in the flickering adventures of Claire Trevor and Kent Taylor on the TV picture tube. Stark naked now, I glanced over at Melanie. I eyed her familiar fleshy bosoms swinging loosely and felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought that she was about to offer them freely to the famous male movie star slumped in the chair before us. In a final spasm of grooming, she daintily smoothed down her auburn centerpiece, ran her hands quickly over her long tresses, and adjusted them so that the wavy ends lay provocatively over her upright nipples. Then with a deep breath, she looked my way, held up two fingers (crisscrossed for good luck) and stepped gingerly around in front of Bertram's chair to compete with the Late, Late Show. I did the same with Ginny.
Stopping beside the brocaded armchair where Ginny Wolfe sprawled (my hands resting lightly on my lean hips, my legs spread wide, and my colossal weapon hanging like a heavy pendulum over my loosely dangling hairy balls), I looked down with half closed eyes hoping to exude virile street-stud masculine appeal.
But try as I might to enact convincingly the role of the pro "play-for-pay" prostie, I couldn't help but stare ogle-eyed at the most glamorous star of our era! She was definitely drunk, but her aging, slightly sagging face still retained the looks that had earned her the title 'the world's most beautiful motion picture actress.' I took in her features one by one: The luxuriously unruly brunette hair framing perfectly arched eyebrows and the triple thick lashes that encircled two clear emerald-green eyes. Then the fine, straight flawless nose and two full sensuous rose-pink lips and all without make-up! Below the face, things began to fall apart. Her overweight body filled to overflowing the expensive looking pant outfit. Her immense titties and coarsely hairy sex showed through the sheer material of her get-up, since she wore no bra or panties. She obviously believed in being ready for action. Those gorgeous eyes (which I remembered swooning at many a time on the silver screen) finally looked over my way, took in my protruding flagpole, and practically popped from their sockets.
"Holy mackerel!" she exploded, spilling chilled champagne over my privates. "What a gorgeous piece of meat, sugar!" she exclaimed, toasting me with the half empty glass, as she gazed pop-eyed at my massive dangling penis. "Daddy, it's almost as big as yours!" she crooned, turning to her renowned husband, then she looked back to make sure my heavy appendage was for real. With a girlish giggle, she reached out and grabbed my hanging joystick with her hand. The rings on her fat fingers dug painfully into the sensitive flesh of my staff, as she squeezed and pressed the fleshy organ roughly. I gasped as she playfully dipped my lengthening peter into the fizzy liquid in her glass. Then she downed the newly christened wine, sloppily swallowing the champagne until it flowed over her double chin and down into the dark cleft between her bulging boobs, staining her blouse.
Sneaking a look at the other pair of lovebirds, I noticed (sick with envy and jealousy) that Melanie was already kneeling between her movie idol's bell bottom covered legs, holding onto his flower shirted shoulders with both arms, and kissing him passionately. She really seemed to like it. His thick hands were running wildly through her long hair, and the sound of his heavy breathing filled the room. Not wanting to get too upset by their hot and steady lovemaking, I turned my attentions back to my intoxicated sex mate.
"What's your pleasure, Miss Wolfe?" I asked in my best husky masculine voice, as I thrust my crotch temptingly closer to her bleary face.
"I'll bet you know how to do everything good, stud," Ginny answered slyly, her voice sounding tough and throaty. Slumping down in the chair and raising her pelvis high in the air, she waited for me to unzip her slacks. Obediently, I began hunting for her zipper, reaching far around the wide hips while trying to dodge the glass of champagne that kept threatening to fall in my bare lap.
"Better!" I bragged, finally managing to get the slacks down past her bushy canyon. The pink slit was wide open, revealing a gaping tunnel that looked deep and moist. Awkwardly, I strained to pull her pants clear off past her satin high heeled slippers. "I'm sure horny for hair pie," I lied.
"Start off with my ass hole, dude, because that's what makes the going great," she ordered, bending her knees and lifting her flabby legs high. Dropping the champagne glass on the floor, she folded her arms under her legs, hoisted her buttocks aloft and ready, and turned toward the old-time flick on the TV set.
"All I can eat?" I joked, kneeling on the floor, grasping her chunky white cheeks, and spreading wide her hairy covered red anus. Halfheartedly burying my face in the fleshy chasm, I couldn't help looking over sideways toward the goings-on of my other half, Melanie. Bertram had his face buried deep between her wobbling breasts, while his hands were busy fingering inside her pumping vagina. Melanie had her arms wrapped around his jiggling head. Her face was thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed in ecstasy. Ginny's words, "It's almost as big as yours," ran through my mind, and left me sick with dismay.
"Whip it to me, kid. I know I'm going to dig it," Ginny croaked in a whiskey baritone without turning her gaze from the romantic scene on the tube.
I tried to keep my mind on my work and forget about Melanie. First, I explored the tight anal entrance with my open lips. Then driving my stiff tongue deep inside, I jabbed back and forth with savage thrusts. My mind involuntarily kept returning to the couple next to us and their all-out performance on the comfy love seat.
I pretended to come up for air, dramatically gasping and wheezing in mock exhaustion. Seeing right through my fraud, Ginny frowned, and rasped out of the corner of her mouth, "Don't strain yourself."
"Huh?" I asked innocently, wiping my drooling chin.
"Oh, brother, they really sent me a doozy this time," Ginny rolled her beautiful eyes upward in disgust, as she let her legs flop over my shoulders, the heels of her slippers digging pointedly into my back. "That's the price of vice, I guess. Look, sweetie, I like my loving rough and tumble, so dig in, because I'm ready to have orgasms all over the place." She wiggled a long shiny fingernail toward her gaping sex sheath, then turned her face to the blaring TV, where another commercial had just ended.
Pretending to get ready for the big plunge, I snuck a glance at the embracing love match, now practically swallowing one another in a scorching kiss. Melanie was on her knees in front of the chair, vigorously pumping with both hands up and down on Bertram's huge, pink headed shaft. There seemed to be plenty of room for extra movements in her jacking-off routine, too. I couldn't get over the size of Bert's prick head as big as a baseball! All of a sudden, I really hated the way he pawed and used her body as if it were his private plaything.
"This is what I call a labor of love," Ginny wisecracked, hiccupping and belching. "Don't be a drag, call boy. Love it or leave it!" she warned me bitterly. Her hands reached out, grabbed the back of my head, and pushed down hard into her musky centerspread. Her legs lay heavily over my back as I reluctantly dove into the hot pit, big and dark as a manhole.
Ginny gasped as my tongue played at the soft opening of her sweaty barrel. Then I dipped it inside, penetrating far into her round belly. Her body shuddered with the piercing motion of my stabbing stiffness, and she raised her legs higher, wrapping them fiercely around my neck. I felt her hips move viciously, as I drove my probing tongue to the hilt in the clutching, liquid grasp of her greedy crack. Swallowing and coughing miserably, I sucked up the dampness spreading between her loins. Ginny pushed herself harder and harder against my face, finally covering my nose and mouth completely. My lungs seemed about to burst from lack of breath, till I tore myself wildly away from the confines of her crushing leg lock and rudely pushed her fat thighs apart. Then I lay there, gulping for air.
"You've got to be kidding? What are you a second rate sexual dropout?" Ginny jeered in disgust, spreading her legs listlessly over the chair arms, her starved for action tunnel of love glistening in futile encouragement. "Try something else, 'champ,' " she sneered, obviously very upset. "You know, like regular ole' humping."
"You bet! I'm a tight fit and you'll be one hundred per cent thrilled," I promised, spitting saliva into my palms, and with both hands, slipping up and down over my lengthy limp banger in fast jerking motions. "I love to fuck!"
At that moment, as I struggled to erect my "paid-for" monument, I happened to look over at the "other" happy duo now deeply involved in sexual by-play next to us. The sounds of sucking and groans of lust struck me like a blow, as I stared uneasily in their direction.
My movements downstairs came to an abrupt halt, as I tried to take in calmly the visually bizarre gymnastics being performed by the artists next door. Bertram was still seated, but by this time, Melanie was embraced in his arms in a weird position upside down in a classic sixty-nine! As Bert hugged Melanie's tiny waist (her shapely body topsy-turvy), his head was sandwiched deep within her spread-eagled thighs. Her pelvis squirmed with hot desire and she had her legs crisscrossed behind his bobbing gray pate. I went red with jealousy as I stood hypnotized, loathing the middle-aged actor who didn't know I existed, as he filled his voracious appetite on Melanie's hotness like an animal feasting on its prey.
And Melanie was just as bad. Her mouth completely encompassed Bertram's extraordinarily swollen and shiny member, her lips rising up and down in a frenetic sucking action. My eyes became like slits as I gazed enviously at my dear co-partner accommodating that enormous organ in her stretched mouth with eager passion and surprising ease. My arms fell limp to my sides and I stood transfixed by the antics of that oblivious twosome. They seemed totally out of control as they gobbled up each other's fruits, their bodies churning and wriggling in heat.
"You know, you're the best thing since Sleep-Eze," Ginny drawled in a sarcastic tone of voice, looking down sick with penis envy at the sight of my drooping dick. "Let's face it, deadbeat that expensive toy of yours isn't worth a tinker's damn!"
"Now don't get excited and all bent out of shape," I snapped, annoyed at her bickering and my weakness. Her hairy oyster-like gaping canyon palpitated with impatience. "Don't start putting me down, witch!"
Ginny's bloated face turned scarlet with rage and her brilliant dark eyes flashed, as she struggled drunkenly to get up from the chair, muttering to herself. She staggered over till she faced me only inches away. Her hot whiskey breath seared my flesh as she poked a pudgy finger into my chest. "Listen, 'Mr. Dullsville,' I didn't pay top dollar for amateur chippie night and an impotent sexual exhibitionist! You pretentious abortion of a man! You're no better than a sexy book cover with nothing inside but empty pages. At least, the ordinary run-of-the-mill street whore has the decency to get a hard-on you mother fucking faggot!"
"Don't start giving me any of your cheap talk, you over-bloated drunken has-been! That shrivel led-up oyster cunt of yours is enough to make any guy go queer!" I blurted out, with an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude.
Ginny's sneering mouth dropped open. People just don't talk like that to a star! Her bleary eyes filled with hate, and she slapped and shoved me backwards with all her might toward the door, her queen-sized temper rising to a final boiling point. "Get your fucking imported ass right out of here! Leave me high and dry, wilya? Nobody needs you, punk, so get the shit out! I've got a lot of thrills to catch up on!" And with that, she opened the door, pushed me outside, and slammed it hard in my face.
"Hey, you rotten-mouthed old bitch! Come out here and fight like a man, so I can knock your fucking false teeth down your throat!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, as I vainly rattled the locked door, forgetting that I was standing stark naked outside on the moonlit hotel grounds. Beside myself with anger, I ran to the nearest lighted window, and peered in to watch the action that I knew was at fever pitch inside the bungalow.
From my vantage point, I watched as Ginny staggered over to the fun-filled activities on the other side of the room, her face full of lust and frustration. I could see Melanie stretched supine over the stud-of-a-star, his big 'box office' attraction deeply rooted in between her writhing loins, his God-given giant pole sliding in and out like a snake in the Garden of Eden. Melanie's lips were angled to connect perfectly with Bert's devouring mouth. Though he seemed lost in a searing kiss, his hands were busily kneading her up-thrust globes. Leaping in to join the festivities, Ginny spread her voluptuous carcass over Melanie, kissing, fondling, and rubbing her youthful frame.
I gulped in hot anger, as I gawked transfixed by the sensational red-hot threesome taking place before me. As far as I was concerned, Melanie was overdoing her part in wiping out the generation gap. She lay there, surrounded, caressed, and cradled by sizzling flesh, as the sensual triple workout really went into high gear.
Automatically, my hands moved down toward my crotch to clutch the throbbing erection brought on by the three-way orgy eye-opener. Pressing and twisting the thick pillar frantically, I closed my eyes, soaking in the delicious waves of good feeling surging through my groin. After a few pleasure-giving jerks, I peeked again at the lewd performance going on live inside.
By now, Melanie was standing, but bent forward. Behind her, the old lecher had his famous profile buried deep between the cheeks of her pink and juicy backside, his head pushing frantically inward like a burrowing mole. Up front, Melanie had just rammed her face into Ginny's dark triangle of sexuality. The aging beauty queen was standing with her arms back and her hands placed against her flabby rump. She stretched her legs, pelvis, and furry patch into a protruding arch, thoroughly relishing Melanie's long, sinuous tongue lapping greedily the lips of her womanhood.
For an instant, I looked down at my own busy hands, my thumb running smoothly over the hot end of my slippery vibrating rod. Spitting saliva into one palm, I swirled and rubbed hard over the shiny cocktip, transported by the sensations' which ran from my head to my toes. My eyes were shut in overwhelming fulfillment and self pity. If only the great Ginny Wolfe could see this
Standing on the chair arms with her shapely legs spread wide apart, Melanie's fanny made an appetizing target for Ginny's hungry lips. Her greedy mouth and face were crammed between Melanie's naked fleshy cheeks. In front, Bert's one hand was busily jabbing in and out of Melanie's slippery crack, while his other tugged and pulled on her bare breasts. His glazed eyes glowed with a last-minute urgency. Melanie's pretty face was flushed with overwhelming pleasure as the doubleheader workout down below came closer and closer to sending her into orbit.
And so the bizarre combination raced on full blast in their 'anything and everything goes' sexing. 'Every-inch-a-King,' Bertram pummeled with sadistic relish into Ginny's receptive canal till they finally came to the climax of their feverish bouncing, and convulsed and shaking, oozed a sea of both his and her white cream jointly over her thighs and down his pant legs.
Up above, Melanie tossed her auburn head back and forth wildly, as her 'pervert' idol poked and wedged fingers of both his hands into her quaking hot box. At last, a stream of her come flushed over his plunging hands. The assorted squeals and grunts of all three were muffled by the loud blasts of noise from the TV, as one by one they moaned and collapsed into temporary exhaustion, opening their arms toward one another, giggling and drooling into a delirious finale of orgiastic 'cuming.' By now, totally involved in the heaven within my own hands, I pushed toward my own last minute of pleasure. With eyes closed and teeth clenched, I pumped wildly toward that longed for peak. The blood in my ears throbbed, my heart pounded, and choked sobs escaped from my throat as my overloaded weapon emptied blast after blast of jetting seed upward. Each jolt sent my straining body through another wild sweep of ecstasy, the intensity of the 'cuming' blotting out all my anger and frustration, for the moment anyway.
At last, the pounding rhythm of my ecstatic ejaculation let up and left my muscular body spent and weak. With both hands, I still held my throbbing dong, now drained and dripping. Opening my eyes slowly, I was surprised to see that the window before me had become frosted with the full glory of my orgasm. Globules of my thick sperm were splashed liberally all over it and dribbled downward over the sill and onto the ground. I stood for several minutes panting, trying to catch my breath.
Suddenly, the bungalow front door flew open. From my hiding place, I saw Melanie step out into the night, once more fully dressed. She was carrying my clothes, several gift wrapped packages, and a fist full of bills. She smiled back into the interior starry-eyed.
"I will, I promise just as soon as it can be arranged," Melanie reassured those inside dreamily as the door shut behind her.
"Just as soon as what can be arranged?" I hissed, not trying one bit to hide how peeved I was. gorgeous cock now, she'd be begging for a piece!' I thought to myself as I opened my eyes once again to check in on the action-filled free-for-all, still going on inside.
With my nose smashed against the window, I finally got a full view of the legendary male movie idol's face. I tried to see what all the fuss was about as I critically scrutinized the strong, straight nose, the mustached covered lips, and the intense beady brown eyes that almost bulged as they examined Melanie's ivory colored posterior (still bent over). His thick fingers parted her smooth round cheeks carefully, as he placed his cockhead (the size of a billiard ball) directly against her rear entrance. Then, using those same powerful fingers, he pushed his gigantic tube into the right place, and entered, starting a slow rhythmic insertion penetrating a little, then pulling back smoothly, then entering again a little further. His big hands now both lay on her softly rounded hips as if they were his private estate.
Meanwhile, Ginny was on her knees, like a bitch in heat, her face pressed forward and her mouth working hungrily inside Melanie's lovely crevice, down to its very depths. Her puffy hands played over Melanie's smooth, soft stomach, moving up, making circling motions, then teasing the tips of Melanie's rounded softies with the fingertips.
Melanie's face reflected true bliss as that object of star worshipping femininity, Bertram, shoved his stupendous manhood into her rear end, pis-toning into her violated tiny rectum in slam-bang fashion, having a ballsy time of it, too. The old fart didn't even unloosen his britches, as he plunged his glistening monstrosity into Melanie's responsive buttocks. Just opposite all this activity, Ginny's hands were still busy at work jamming insanely into Melanie's all-encompassing twat, while her feverish lips gobbled up the seductive chick's amply endowed breastwork. Smiles of delight suffused all their faces as they approached the consummation of their animal fun and games.
I became completely involved in my own sturdy hands pushing speedily up and down on my ignited cannon. The moonlit window before me reflected my powerful arms as they flexed and un-flexed with every stroke of my jacking-off movements. My sturdy legs quivered and my whole frame stiffened as my entire body raced madly toward its inevitable explosion. I was so hot, I just wanted to shoot my heavy load then and there over the window pane.
Then I took one final peek through the lighted window. Electrified by the vision inside, I drank in the final do-or-die efforts of the 'total togetherness' act before me. The positions of the players had changed. That lazy thespian sex-brute was still seated on his royal ass, but now at least, he was in a 'working' position. Straddled over his wet, unzipped groin and facing him was his 'ever-lovin' wife, Ginny. Her 'ever-fuckin' sex maniac of a husband jackhammered his stupendous machine in and out of her hairy gorge till you thought it would smoke from the friction.
Melanie jumped in fright. Then recognizing me, she came closer. "Oh, my poor baby," she sympathized as she took in the situation in one glance the jizzy fireworks display on the moonlit window and my dangling, dribbling pecker. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll see that you're taken care of when we get home."
"How much did you get from those phonies anyway?" I asked trying to sound nonchalant, as I grabbed my clothes from her arm and began to dress.
"A big fat check, a pile of money for taxi fare, and tons of presents," Melanie bragged in innocent triumph, her wide eyes dwelling in pleasure on my hobbling reddened staff and duck-egg-sized nuts, as I stuffed them down one side of my pant leg. "Gee wheez, they were so nice! Real people like that don't happen too often. And Bertram Richardson! Golly, I've never had anyone fill me like he did," she swooned.
"Yeah, I was checking you out, babe," I snapped with annoyance, pulling my t-shirt on and stepping into my loafers. "And you'd better believe it they're no different from any other couple swappers all screwed up, looking for funkier kicks, thrills, and escapes."
"Well, anyway, it was a lovely sex happening. I mean, lots of balling and no work at all! And there's nothing like a happy, money feeling, is there? Especially when you're getting paid for something you want to do. Besides, that's what our job is, isn't it orgasms for all? And, honey, it was so cool! We just kept coming and coming," Melanie reminisced, still exhilarated from her 'star' trip. "Wow, I'm too pooped to pop."
I couldn't think of a ready answer that wouldn't sound like sour grapes, so I snatched the packages from her arms in silence and started down the brick path leading to the hotel exit.
"Really?" I finally remarked anticlimactically, not able to hide the envy in my voice. Melanie giggled as she slid her arm through mine and dropped her tired head on my shoulder lovingly.
"Did Ginny Wolfe say anything I mean about my cop-out?" I asked sheepishly, as I held Melanie's tiny waist and rested my fingers under the round softness of one tit.
"Uh, look, Kenny," Melanie answered hesitantly, "all I know is that Gin and Bert said my company was like music to their ears, that they'd like to share me with all their friends, and that they'd greet me with open arms any place and any time, but to please leave you at home!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two months had gone by. Slumped wearily in the office swivel chair, I stared blankly at the huddled form of my sidekick Melanie as she lay on the dilapidated couch, sound asleep. In spite of all our successes, I couldn't help wishing we were just the plain, simple Anytime Modeling Agency once again. Priscilla, our boss (the "iron butterfly"), had had us on a nonstop crazy schedule servicing her top notch clients practically door-to-door singles, doubles, threesomes, foursomes, and gang bangs night after night without a halt. By now, we were so fucked out, we hardly ever had energy for one of our own numbers.
Getting rich or not, we'd had it up to here with the whole perverse sex scene, or at least the portion of it run by our freak tyrant employer.
Knowing how evil and revengeful this Queenpin of the underground vice could be, we were too terrified to confront her by resigning from her nationwide VIP bedrooming operation. We weren't sure we could get away with it and stay alive!
Just at that moment, my thoughts were interrupted by a loud car horn outside. Priscilla had warned us that tonight was to be a very special money-making charity event, so she had arranged to have her Rolls Royce sent over to excort us to our mysterious appointment. I went over to Melanie and shook her shoulder gently. She opened her thickly lashed green eyes, blinked once or twice, and stretched in feline manner. Her firm breasts stirred under her low cut braless dress.
"Already?" she moaned. "Gosh, I'm still so plumb worn out."
"I know, baby," I sympathized, pulling her off the couch and leading her through the office and down the dimly lit hallway to the front door of the old building. "Don't worry, darling, I'm really going to have it out with Priscilla tonight the first chance I get. I'm going to lay it on the line! No more nightly sex orgies and whatnot for us just to build up her money-hungry pay-for-lay racket. I'm not going to fart around either. We're quitting tonight, and there's nothing she can do about it. The contract we signed is definitely illegal. Nobody not even Priscilla can hold human beings as sex slaves."
"Oh, sweetheart, you're really something else, you know that?" Melanie exclaimed, looking at me adoringly and a little relieved, as she pushed the front door of the building open to the night air.
"But of course," I agreed smugly, as we approached Priscilla's canary yellow limousine which was parked curbside, the motor already purring gently. The impeccably uniformed boyish chauffeur reached back over the front seat and opened the door for us from the inside. As we climbed inside the luxurious sedan, I noticed that all the rear windows had blinds pulled shut. I squinted into the dim interior and was startled to see Dr. Prickett sitting there greeting us with a broad smile. He was dressed to the hilt in a tuxedo and ruffled shirt. Even in the gloom, I noticed his eyes glowing as they drank in the lengthy fullness bulging from my khakis. Melanie kissed the old doc affectionately as I shut the door behind us. The shiny automobile moved away smoothly.
"Hi, pal, what are you doing here? Checking the merchandise? I was expecting Her Royal Asshole," I remarked snidely, spreading my legs apart in my usual friendly manner.
"Priscilla is saving on gas by having us all picked up at once. Are you two all ready for the big blow-out this evening?" Dr. Prickett inquired, his voice sounding uncertain and wavering.
"You can't be serious?" I challenged, eager to let him in on our side of the story, including our definite decision to leave the organization. "Listen, buddy, you sure didn't do us a favor getting us hooked up with that power-hungry dictator. After this gig tonight, we're through hustling trick after trick for that iron-fisted sin queen. Shit I've been working my balls off to a point where even I'm beginning to believe I'm nothin' but a sex organ."
Dr. Prickett laughed nervously.
"Seriously, doc," Melanie whined, "we're only human beings not soulless sex machines. I mean, we believe that you meant well getting us into Miss Priscilla's sex-ploitation syndicate, but it's really like being enslaved for pleasure. I admit, at first, we thought it'd be a real gas, but by now, it's more like being a twenty-four hour on-call duty nurse. Why the only scenery we've seen these last two months are bedsheets and ceilings."
"Yeah," I chimed in, "and you're the one, kiddo, who led us to expect too much out of this whole rotten mess, and that's exactly what we've gotten too much! Man, we never even have a second for our own private life. Anyway, it's a bad scene and we're going to leave it behind us-far behind us!"
A strange look half hurt and half fear crossed Dr. Prickett's seamed face. "Believe me, my children, when I say that I understand the severe strain your young bodies have had to undergo, please realize, I've also been under lots of pressure because of my regrettable decision to take you in. I guess I'm just too old and too stupid to understand what's happening any more," he wailed in self pity.
"What are you rapping about?" I broke in bored and annoyed by his soppy confession. "Don't lose your cool, doc. Melanie and I have slipped out of worse scrapes than this before, so screw her majesty's pompous ass we're splitting tonight!"
"My boy, please let me set you straight before you do something foolish and get yourself in serious trouble," Dr. Prickett begged, his eyes wide with concern. "It's true that the contract you signed might not hold in court, but I happen to know that Priscilla will stop at nothing extortion, physical harm, or even blackmail, to keep you under her control. And, she has a whole squad of hired strong-armed goons to enforce her orders. I hate to admit it, but she's got me really scared."
"How terrible and cruel! I'm frightened," Melanie wailed, squeezing my hands and cuddling closer to me on the deep leather seat.
"But that's illegal," I blustered angrily. "No demented chick owns my body and soul!"
"Crime, my son, has its own rules. Sometimes it's better not to question, but simply to submit," Dr. Prickett preached, his sad eyes looking up toward heaven as we drove on past the city limits, off the freeway, and finally into the dark moon-lit hills. "For your own safety, as well as mine, please listen and believe me. You apparently still don't understand that Priscilla has her warped mind completely obsessed with a passionate desire to become the absolute ruler of the prostitution market. In fact, her whole system is engineered precisely to milk the wealthy sex-starved elderly degenerates of the entire U.S.A. with the finest young flesh available at her price, of course. And that brings us back to you two. Dr. Prickett took a second to catch his breath, and then went on.
"You happen to be the hottest property in town right now. Because of your almost unique ability to bring life back into old-timers' wilted organs, there's a growing demand for your act at private sex parties. That's why Priscilla doesn't want to lose your particular money-making talents, and come hell or high water, will let nothing put a dent in her perverted manipulations. He stopped at last, gasping, a little shaken by his own words as he mopped his beaded brow with a large linen handkerchief.
Melanie and I sat glumly and silently as the limousine left the main highway and turned down a bumpy, twisting dirt road past tall trees and shrubbery. We were finally convinced Prickett was scared stiff, and frankly, so were we!
"There is a way out though," Dr. Prickett resumed, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Now, you must listen very carefully to my plan." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I have persuaded Priscilla to use you two as part of the entertainment at this annual Halloween Masquerade Gay-In Ball. It's being held at an out-of-the-way, but exclusive homo hideaway famous for its discriminating and high-class clientele the Cock 'N' Clit Country Club! We're almost there now. It also just happens to serve Priscilla as her main business headquarters. She keeps her most important papers there to wit, evidence so incriminating, that if we get a hold of it, we can use it to force her to release you from your contract, and spring me loose, too!
Melanie and I looked at each other overjoyed by the prospect that we could be free again some how, some way.
"Since Priscilla always acts as Mistress of Ceremonies, she'll be so busy out front surrounded by her mob of private strongmen all watching the parade of drag contestants, that she won't notice me sneaking into her private files to dig out the fatal documents. Then, Kenny boy, it's up to you to get them away from me." He chuckled.
"Oh, Dr. Prickett, you're just wonderful!" Melanie cried happily, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug. "By the way, what is a Gay-In ball?" Melanie asked innocently.
Dr. Prickett and I both laughed uproariously.
"Honey, just a bunch of homos and dykes dressed like clowns in gowns," I answered with a smirk. Just then, our shiny sedan pulled up to the brightly lit side entrance of a large building, past rows and rows of parked cars. Sounds of a loud rock band and the murmur of excited voices could be heard from inside the club. "And what's to be our job at this imagine-dress drag show, pops?"
"Oh, that! Why, you two are to be the door prizes!" Dr. Prickett announced, trying to sound nonchalant.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Just ask for 'Big Frieda,' " Dr. Prickett suggested anxiously, as I climbed out of the limousine. He held Melanie back from following me, slammed the door, and drove off with her toward another part of the building.
Excitement and anticipation filled me as I stepped through the brightly lit side entrance of the Club. In the distance, I could hear the rock group blasting away over the voluminous babbling of the crowd, but just inside the doorway, I became aware of dozens of chirpy voices chattering and giggling. Some seemed very high and girlish, others answered in deep, masculine tones. I stopped, looked in, and stifled a gasp as a heavy wave of perfume and cigarette smoke hit me head-on. Through the haze, I gradually became aware of the funniest sight I'd seen in a long time. I had walked in on the backstage dressing room of a group of powdering and primping female impersonators!
Looking around the hot, densely crowded, congested room, I took in the confusing panorama of half dressed men, tables piled high with cosmetics, and women's undergarments. Shoulder to shoulder around the long double mirrored dressing table, twenty partially dressed drag queens sat applying gobs of theatrical make-up to their chalk white faces, adjusting their padded bras and long silk stockings, while gossiping and smoking. Directly behind them, dozens of multicolored, sparkling sequined gowns and exotically coiffured and bejeweled wigs hung from rows of makeshift hooks.
I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing as I stared unashamedly at the wild scene. One "he-she" still had on his trousers and was puffing away on a pipe, as he applied pancake make-up patiently to emphasize the nondescript cleft of his flat chest. Another "Lady," his shapely smooth legs covered by expensive looking silk stockings held up by a glittering garter belt, was detaching electric rollers from his own shoulder length brunette hair. A stranger sight still was a beefy baldheaded, cigar smoking gent, whose plump figure was covered by only a white feather G-string. Obviously, he was the comic of the group. He sat there doggedly plucking out chest hairs, one by one, with a pair of tweezers, and wincing after each yank. Between pulls, his baggy eyes shifted in my direction. Focusing in on the whale of a whopper protruding clear down my levi leg, they opened up like twin saucers. "Mary it's 'Super Stud' with the nine inch rented tool!" his gravelly cracked voice blurted out.
"That's me instant cock for cash," I bragged, resting my hands on my lean hips and spreading my legs apart in butch fashion. "Hell, every minute my feet are on the ground, I'm losing money."
My "witty" remark brought only silence as forty ogling eyes turned my way and twenty red painted mouths dropped a couple of feet each.
"Er, uh, I'm only looking for...., " I started to stutter uneasily, but stopped short as the entire bunch of fruits suddenly came out of their deep freeze, and as one man (or "Lady") elbowed, tripped and crawled over one another and fought to get to me first. I barely had a chance to back away as they flung themselves on me in one frantic assault, almost bowling me over!
"How much do you charge a crack, Mr. Straight Masculine?" the first fag asked, his well-manicured hand grabbing hard at my crotch. I gasped. "I'd sure dig being humped by that! It looks absolutely dee-vine!"
"Something tells me I have a sudden urge for sex," another drooled, running his sharp fingernails up my t-shirt and across my matted chest. "Oooooh, I'm lovesick already, you sweet thing, you."
"You're obviously a guy with a lot on the balls," an afro-coiffured dinge queen shrilled, tearing at my fly. "Let's see if you 'meat' with our approval, sugar."
As the top of my fly flew open, everyone swooned in approval at the spread of blonde wiry hair on my muscular belly. "I wish I had a beauty spot like that," a willowy pansy whined enviously. "Really, it's a gourmet paradise!"
"You're certainly the Ail-American gay boy's dream, muscles," a nelly swish sighed, running her bejeweled hands up and down my bulging biceps. "I'm just queer for the super-straight levi type."
"Let's face it, girls, he's got the kind of 'Personality' queens love to touch," I heard someone laugh behind me, and, as if on cue, I felt dozens of hands grab my t-shirt, pull it up, and over my head in a chorus of shrieks and shrill giggles. I cursed as I felt long fingernails ripping at my thighs and roughly yanking down on my pants.
"Hey, what the hell?" I yelled angrily, but all those greedy hands ignoring my protest, grasped at my free swinging prick. My t-shirt went flying in one direction, and my britches were literally torn off over my loafers and thrown aside, leaving me naked as a jaybird.
"Stretch it out over here, prostie, and share it with your friends," a lustful looking "Limp wrist" ordered, as I felt a painful tug on my action-packed penis. "Now I know what they mean 'cum' to where the flavor is."
"My dear isn't that a spectacular appendage?" the afro queen exclaimed, pulling still harder on my nine incher with one hand, while squeezing my dangling nuts with the other. I cursed in annoyance.
"Yes, but does it have a loving heart and honest soul?" someone jested. Everyone broke up in laughter, as the small circle grew tighter and tighter around me. I felt my half hard organ being rubbed firmly between two legs. "I always watch what I stick in my body," somebody joked as my face was forcibly turned and an open red lipped mouth hotly covered mine, tonguing me hard and sensuously.
"O.K., fellas, knock the shit off!" a snarling, commanding voice shouted in a basso profundo. "Don't mess with the door prize, or the High priestess of Camp will have all your asses back peddling sex on the streets again."
"What's the matter, Big Frieda, you still wearing the rag?" someone lisped, as the pawing, clutching sex-fans obediently let go their bruising holds. I felt my aching dong swing loosely once more. "Aw, Frieda don't be a drag!" a pleading voice whined. That really broke everyone up, and the entire group reluctantly swished back to the dressing table, where the painting and primping began all over again.
More curious than startled, I took a good look at my liberator. Standing over six foot tall, she must have weighed at least two hundred pounds. Her dungarees, leather jacket, and size twelve Army boots seemed part of the total picture Big Frieda wanted to present, especially when you added to it her crew cut hair, lack of make-up, and fuzzy upper lip. In one big hammy hand, she clutched a large ring jangling with keys, like a jailer. Her thick wristband was centered with a huge diver's watch. As she shifted her eyes to my nudity, I could feel the chill of her cold calculating appraisal. In short, she was what she looked like a first-class triple distilled authentic bull dyke.
"You're on a tight working schedule, call boy, so dump your shreds and follow me," Big Frieda ordered with a jerk of her fat thumb. Obediently, I did just that, tagging along close behind her flabby butt as it swayed arrogantly from side to side through the doorway and down a long corridor.
"Do you happen to know where they took Miss Melanie, my partner?" I asked meekly, as we marched past rows of metal lockers and wooden benches.
"Oh, you mean the cute sexy dreamdoll? I'm waiting for a piece of that action myself," Big Frieda answered with sadistic relish. She rubbed the front of her dungarees in anticipation. I grimaced in disgust at the thought of this les wolf slobbering over poor Melanie.
We entered a lavish game and TV room, complete with pool and ping-pong tables, couches, vending machines, and jumbo size juke box.
"By the way, the High Priestess of Camp has been tripping out all over the place about the loot she's collected from your busy bodies," Big Frieda complimented me reluctantly. "She says you kids are now the aristocrats of her stable of whores. That's why your talents were specially ordered to 'entertain' at this $125-a-head Halloween fund-raising blast."
"One hundred and twenty-five bucks?" I whistled to myself in awe, as my butchy lesbo escort finally stopped in front of a heavily curtained doorway. A sign tacked to the wall next to it read "Stud Farm." I looked at Big Frieda quizzically.
"O.K., big-time hustler, I'll come and fetch when it's time for your next stop," Big Frieda pointed toward the door and gave me an evil grin that made me fear a rocky time ahead. Hesitantly, I peeked through the curtains into the murky blackness A familiar smell filled the air. I suspected pot. "Don't forget, rent-a-boy, you've got a helluva lot of bodies to service tonight, so hot trot your well publicized basket of talent inside and join your fellow playmates at mattress polo." With that announcement, she gave me a push from behind strong enough to launch the Queen Mary!
I was propelled into the dark interior of the room like a shot from a cannon, and before I could regain my balance, piled headlong into a huddle of naked human beings, then sailed over them and landed in the direct center of another frenetically active circle of sweaty, slippery torsos. "Holy shit!" I gasped, as I awkwardly tried to find a footing in the hodgepodge of squirming flesh. Stepping blindly over and between dozens of unidentified bare limbs, I finally touched bottom on a bouncy rubber mattress top. I waited for my eyes to get accustomed to the darkness, broken only by a dim red light in the ceiling. Grunts of animal ecstasy, sucking noises, and slaps of skin on skin filled my ears.
"O.K., boys, here's your sample preview of tonight's door prize," Big Frieda bellowed, and walked out, leaving me to the mercy of the still almost invisible mob.
The response to her invitation was a mad scramble of groping hands, sucking mouths, and pressing bodies. In their groggy stoned condition, the mob came at me like gangbusters.
"What the fuck?" I protested, as a saliva-filled mouth and tongue swirled over my hanging banger greedily, nipping the head with painful bites. My moans were muffled by an open mouth zeroing in over mine. The moist waggling tongue thrust deep into my throat almost gagging me, as two long hairy arms clung octopus-like around my waist. From the rear, my rectum was assaulted by another sucking, thrashing mouth, a fiery tonguing titillating the tender hole. At the same time, someone's teeth bit painfully into one sensitive nipple. Two lips followed devouring the rubbery morsel, hot with passion. Frantic for breath, I pulled my mouth away from the face burrowing into mine, gulping for air in the hot, smoke filled snake pit. Frankly, this homo freak-out scene really wasn't my bag.
More accustomed to the dark by now, I gawked incredulously at the men-only sexual free-for-all going on around me. On all sides, nude laddies coalesced in abandoned orgiastic boudoir gymnastics. For several minutes, I took in the swinging hairy legs straddling broad shoulders as pink and ready rears were attacked by ravishing seducers; all available crotches seemed somehow covered by ravenous bobbing heads in classic "69" positions; standing couples embraced in sizzling kisses, their hands exploring each other's muscular frames seductively; meanwhile wild-eyed stags prowled around the huge square mattress intently watching the queer sex stunts.
Just then, someone's hand on my head turned my face to meet another scorching, wet mustachioed kiss, while down below, the pressing and stroking had taken on a slower and more regular rhythm. Two busy hands encircled my now fully erect hardness, pumping speedily up and down automatically on the palpitating shaft. At the same time, I grunted in pain as I felt a thick fingered intruder pushing forcibly into my saliva-moistened ass hole, and then a large, hard cockhead pressing impatiently toward the same goal. Caught in the mounting tension brought on by the blow by blow activity downstairs and the searing tipped tongue probing my mouth, I decided to relax and enjoy this faggy love-in pot-inflamed deviates and all!
As two sweaty paws pulled down on my shoulders, I braced myself in anticipation of a brutal entry into my virgin ass. A rigid bologna-sized dick tunneled ruthlessly in between the shuddering cheeks of my not-so-willing buttocks. Then surprisingly, pain changed to wave on wave of ecstasy, as a giant surge of pleasure filled my whole being. I struggled for breath, my heart pounding, while this totally different sex trip brought me perilously close to a spontaneous climax.
Just as I felt ready to explode, a change of tactics broke the tension. The hot moist mouth on my lips pulled away, a strong hand grabbed the back of my neck, and forced my head roughly downward. Knowing I was headed for zingier sex kicks, I took a hasty gulp of air as my face was smashed open-mouthed onto a glistening swollen cock looming menacingly before me. I gagged with discomfort, but the hand on my neck pushed harder, and surprisingly, I managed to take the huge weapon clear to its base in my wide-stretched jaws. Moaning with burning desire, my assailant worked his plunging straightshooter in and out of my throat, his straining hips surging back and forth viciously, smacking my forehead with soft splats against his furry belly. Pushed off balance, I gripped his waist for leverage, only to feel my hands slip down his sweat streaked muscular body and legs clear to the powerful calves which bulged below his knees.
"Take it, whore eat your heart out!" I heard a deep young voice demand deliriously, breaking the silence of this sex-oriented gay-in.
In the rear, my sodomite deflowerer hadn't missed a stroke. Locking his perspiring hands over my shuddering hips, he leaned heavily over my half crouched form. His hard, flexed belly muscles rose and fell excitedly on my backside, as he writhed and pounded downward with his slick violator. Animal sounds came from my throat as I fought for breath between strokes of the pulsing, quivering flagpole which drove rigidly past my slobbering lips. The heavy veins throbbed at its base, while a pungent salty taste filled my mouth. Strangely enough, by now I was really relishing the perverse sex thrills I was reaching at this all-male gang-bang.
"Far fucking out!" I thought to myself as the atmosphere of the "Stud Farm" grew freakier and freakier. Everyone went berserk around us while the intense heat and fury of the crowded tricking pad surged toward one colossal orgasm. My nostrils sucked in the strong, musky smells of animal lust filling our polluted paradise.
"My God! Still more?" I thought in disbelief, as yet another invisible devouring mouth pounced on my erect pride and joy, and forced it in and out as far as possible. Smoothly and greedily, it savored each and every movement I made. "I love it, I love it, I love it!" were the only words that filled my reeling mind, as my trembling, sex-filled body was transported toward a final excursion into heavenly bliss. My legs quivered with excitement till the fulfilling gratification from my three-way connection became so delicious, I could hardly hold back an uncontrollable urge to shoot.
"Son of a bitch, I'm gonna blow it, man!" a voice warned from out of the darkness, as the super-lover behind me balled my gouged-out anus like a veteran broncobuster, raising me to a fever pitch of ecstasy. At last, completely losing control of his body, bouncing and heaving in such unrestrained heat that I thought he'd never come out of it, he brought himself to the very edge of his final eruption with near perfect timing for both of us. Little sparks lit up all through my steaming posterior, as the heat of his weapon burned into the exact center of my violated fanny. The orgy of rhythmic upward jerks, quicker and quicker, faster and faster, wilder and wilder went on until his raging hips and buttocks lunged forward one last time, and then his exhausted carcass fell shuddering over my bent sweaty back. "God, God, you're tight right in tight!" he whimpered in complete happy-unhappy release, as his delicious crisis finally arrived. His joystick ejaculated rapturously as he spent madly in exquisite convulsions. Stream after stream of warm seed from his jerking machine splattered my stretched slushy canal. "Oh, wow fantabulous!" he gasped.
"Hang on, 'cause I'm making it, too!" another voice pleaded. Then two clenching hands pulled forward painfully on my curly hair and smashed my face against a soppy-haired belly. The stiff throbbing pole, already deep in my mouth, pushed in harder against my gagging palate. I resisted futilely against the pressure, almost strangling as I tried to ease up on the overloaded prickhead. In and out, with all his strength, he pounded his embedded rod, cramming my mouth with the kind of drive and vitality only a youth can sustain, rocking from side to side, hard and wrenching. I waited for his approaching shoot-out eagerly, my brain whirling with the intoxication of this never-ending, half blind perverse fun-making. "Whip it to me, tiger, I can't take it much longer!" he begged plaintively. "Oh, shit I'm tripping out!" were his final words as he went completely bananas. His bucking reached a peak, then his rhythm broke as his frame was racked with the contorted spasms of a gigantic shooting spree. Hot breath seemed propelled from his lungs in racking, agonized gasps, then whimpering animal cries of fulfillment. His hard belly went rigid and exploded, as the muscles stretched and relaxed, again and again.
At first, I saw stars, swallowing and coughing back the enormous flood of warm, salt-flavored jizz spewing forth from his firing cannon. But within seconds, I found myself eagerly sucking down every drop of the creamy sperm as it continued to fill my throat to overflowing. Murmuring with unashamed delight, I extracted every last ounce of the manly essence until his staff was sucked dry, and lay twitching and relaxed in my insatiable mouth.
Down below, a "star-quality" blow job was taking place on my own succulent monstrosity. The feeling was so tremendous that in my delirium, I pumped downward recklessly into the suctioning warmth, using every ounce of my strength, becoming lost in climbing to the brink of my own take off. I screwed frantically like a sex maniac, while the sliding, slippery jaws sent my tension-filled torso on to impossible heights of joy.
Then it happened. My loins boiled, my heart pounded, as a blazing trail of unbelievable sensations flushed through my body, draining me to the edge of consciousness. "You're weird, you're really weird, Ken, you know that?" I told myself in that instant before final orgasm. Then an electric charge ignited my taut instrument and I exploded with a blast, sending floods of delectable thick deposits into the ultimate target.
My half crouched figure shook and rolled recklessly as each magnificent discharge whished through the singed pathway, bulleting sensational globs of come into the human suction apparatus below. The hardness wedged in my sloshy ass-hole, and the drooling pecker still in my semen-filled mouth, made the triple-header abnormal sexing, plus my climax, almost more than I could bear. And God knows I was wrapped up in it! Knees quaking uncontrollably, I directed every shot with total concentration deep into those greedy unseen lips.
When my juices finally stopped flowing, I melted away in a final release, almost fainting with the excitement. Time seemed to stand still, but at last, the slick throbbing hose slid sloppily out of my tingling sore anus, leaving an aching void in my ravished rear. At the same moment, the dribbling fullness that had filled my throat and now lay shriveled and flabby, finally slipped from my tired lips, thick gobbets of sperm still trickling down my chops. I began breathing more easily and became aware of the strong male odor rising from the frantic sexual action still going on in high gear on the overcrowded mattress below. My energies completely spent, I barely felt the feverish lips as they left my still erect, but drained pillar. Falling onto the dank covering, I lay absolutely zonked out, craving for some fresh air to be let into this steamy sex arena.
"Hey, door prize front and center!" I heard Big Frieda bellow like a top sergeant, loud and clear. In spite of whining protests from all around, I obediently rose, disengaging myself from the frantic last-minute clutches at my aching manhood. I pushed a path through what seemed a never ending supply of horny, simpering pansies, still absorbed in playing their bouncing game. Rubbing my sore parts, I staggered through the parted curtain, and blinded by the bright lights, stood glued to the spot trying to adjust to the dazzle. "Jesus Christ, if you don't look all sexed up!" the burly, coarse mouthed old lezzie guffawed, almost collapsing in sidesplitting laughter. The strong smell of bourbon met my nostrils.
"Uh-huh, I'm having lotsa laffs bedrooming my way to the top. I'm even surprised at what I'd do for the rustle of dollar bills," I replied dryly, rubbing my eyes to see better. I caught those boozy, dyke-cobra eyes lowering from my face to the oozing, still dripping open end of the shiny mammoth shaft that thrust strongly outward from my body. "The best things in life are nutty," I joked, purposely corny.
Laughing uproariously again, and jangling her keys noisily, Frieda shook her big horse face and motioned for me to follow her. "Prostitution is a groovy thing you sell it, you get paid for it, and you still got it. And love is getting to be like everything else big business in this sex-mad day and age. You and dollbaby have got it made, too, with her Higliness. She's got you guys gimmicked to rape the world of wealthy sex-starved suckers. Yep, I agree, you two are too good to lose moneywise," she jabbered away half to me, half to herself, as I trailed behind her toward the door marked "Backstage." Even through the walls, I could hear a full rock band beating out a slow, walking rhythm to the noise of a wildly boisterous, chanting crowd.
"We'll have to double time through this routine, so we can scoot your butt on to another of our really important scheduled sex trips," Big Frieda frowned, squinting at her watch, as she opened the door.
"Wait a minute....! " I cried. Too late! The nerve shattering music from the pop group burst over us, swallowing up all other sounds. I took a quick glance down at my naked messy body, but barely had time to run my hands through my tousled curly hair. The ringlets of blonde hair on my chest, belly, and groin were still wet, matted, and glistening. My enormous shiny erection stood up like a gigantic exclamation point, and a long, swaying line of white jizz bobbed toward the floor like a yo-yo.
"Come on, super fuck," Big Frieda yelled through cupped hands in my ear, as she threw me an impatient look and shoved me toward the entrance.
I sighed in exasperation, but stepped through the doorway, trying to look nonchalant. The long driblet of come swayed freely in front of my taut organ, glinting in the blue-white gleam of the spotlights aimed toward the invisible performers on stage.
Standing half hidden in the darkness, I had a good chance to view the strange event taking place before me. In one long line, impatient and irritable, a grotesque parade of femme masquerades, old and young, stood squashed together like sardines. Overwhelming waves of cheap perfume and sweat wafted my way like poison gas. Extravagantly dressed in expensive costumes flashing with phony jewels, gold lame, and dripping with fur, the "drag queens" of all sizes and shapes were so intent on themselves and their impending presentation on stage, they didn't even notice me.
I stared shamelessly at the fairy troupe in their full glory, preening and cooing with each other like so many big birds, touching up their hairdos just one more time, straightening the seams of their stockings, dabbing on yet another layer of last minute pancake, and looking into little compact mirrors, oblivious to everything else around them. Their overly painted faces and hairless lumpy masculine physiques made strange contrasts with all the frills and feathers draped on their bodies.
"Watch that shit, Mary!" an aged version of "Mae West" rasped through snarling red lips at the younger drag close behind him. Batting his black two-inch eyelashes a mile a minute, he glared down at the torn hem of his gown. As the older queer yanked petulantly at the ripped train of his white strapless dress, the long ostrich plumes on his picture hat poked into the little faggot's face. "Hereafter, keep those size twelve clodhoppers to yourself, Miss Foot Fetish," he growled.
"Get those Colonel Sanders chicken feather rejects out of my eyes before I yank them off and leave you bald as a baby's ass, you silly old bitch!" the little one, dressed as a Playboy Bunny lisped back testily. His costume was complete with siliconed tits, padded hips, and super high heeled pumps. Fidgeting nervously with the rabbit ears stuck on his shiny black hairdo, he turned away muttering. "Listen, baboon brains, if you don't like it here, go swish your petticoat somewhere else."
"Talk about being uptight," another daffy doll grimaced, struggling with long taloned fingers to loosen his tight fitting ballet costume where it covered his smashed-in crotch area. "This get-up will turn me into a real soprano yet! Whoever said being gay is fun?"
"It takes all kinds to make two balls go round," a "Scarlett O'Hara" double drawled in a thick, phony southern accent, lifting up the edge of his wide hooped skirt with one muscular arm, and energetically scratching his ass with the other.
"Thank God, you're here! You're on in just a minute, my boy!" I heard a familiar voice ring out. It was Dr. Prickett, who had suddenly appeared at my side. He gripped my bare arm with his soft pudgy hand and purposely maneuvered me away from my swarthy lesbo leader and the spellbinding gay parade. Trying hard to act casual, but obviously nervous and worried, he leaned over close and whispered in a low conspiratorial tone. His eyes widened as he got his first good look at the sight of my now slightly drooping maleness, still running with thick creamy sperm. "Kenneth, where have you been? I've only got a couple of sees. If my little plan fails, I predict nothing but a heap of trouble and misery for all of us. So whatever they ask you to do do it! I'll need all the time I can get to steal those papers while Priscilla and her gorillas are busy watching the drag contestants. We'll have to improvise my delivery of the papers to you and our escape by ear, so keep a sharp lookout for me and watch out for that little fink, Priscilla! Good luck." With that warning, he took off and disappeared into the darkness.
". ... nice bit of female fluff, huh? Let's have a big hand now for this dainty doll-sized, curvaceous bundle of tricks," I could hear the drunken voice of the Mistress of Ceremonies blaring through the sound system, and the enthusiastic response of the receptive audience thunderous applause and wolf whistles.
"O.K., cunt lapper, go make a beeline onto that stage and do your thing," I heard Big Frieda's voice from behind me, as she pushed me forward impatiently. Obediently, I scooted along in the direction of the High Priestess of Camp. The houselights dimmed and brilliant searchlights pinpointed the exact spot on stage where I would enter. like a real ham, I turned on my flashiest smile, and exuded all my masculine charm and virility.
"Well, my dears, you're really gonna flip," Priscilla challenged the SRO crowd of homo watchers, while the powerful beams of light focused all attention on my sex smeared, rippling muscular physique, and my well heralded "prize" wet, dangling, and swinging in front of me like a baby elephant's trunk. "No bullshit! This 'Stud of All Time' is the ultimate answer to every 'girl's' prayer. I dig things strong and hard, don't you? Absolutely knocks me out every time really!"
As the visually stunned psycho-sexpots gawked and listened with awe to Priscilla's super sales pitch, I noticed in disgust that she was once again wearing that same old mini-skirted, bejeweled ensemble the only outfit I'd ever seen her in! Obviously, she was not only money-grubby, but stingy, too.
"How do you sell a high priced product when it outsells itself?" she went on. "Well, kids, all I can tell you is that 'Mr. AC/DC himself is today's most sought after 'he-man' among our top jet set clientele. And gang, as you can see, this is no ordinary run-of-the-mill whore. No way! This veritable greek god has the unique ability of attracting both sexes. Tonight, the management has taken precious time from his heavily booked engagement list to contribute his unbeatable services to the highest bidder in this evening's door prize auction. Far out, huh? Yes, this studsy boy is gonna be some lucky person's 'anything goes' love match and right after the best costume contest! It's O.K., 'cause it's for charity, natch and he's tax deductible, too!"
As if on cue, the live rock band joined the wild clapping and cheers that greeted this extravagant introduction. Smiling boozily, Priscilla motioned me forward and onto a long wooden runway which ran out into the center of the room. I walked into the blinding lights gingerly, as hundreds of male and female homosexuals screamed and hollered, and even swooned their approval. The entire stage front area and all the aisles were swollen with wild-eyed grabby spectators.
Far across the stage, another section of the crowd seemed to be chanting in a state of near delirium. Curious about my rival, I took a good long look, and flushed in annoyance and jealousy when I recognized it was my sex partner, dear Melanie. She didn't even see me, being completely absorbed in flaunting her nude figure in everyone's face, proud as usual of her 'sexciting' body. An obvious hit, rating shrill whistles from the lesbian contingent, her stage presence seemed to stun the audience and me, too, damn it! I watched enthralled, forgetting all about myself, as my darling did her thing. Strutting seductively, she brought the house down with her provocative hips and familiar jiggling bare bottom. Her auburn hair was in wild disarray and the creamy flesh of her torso ran with glistening sweat. I could see that her nipples had been rouged and her bosom highlighted on top to emphasize the fullness of her swaying breasts. The deep pink shadow inside her gaping red furry patch looked like an open invitation to enter and taste the moist goodies inside. I cringed at the thought that sweet Melanie might have been ravished by a bunch of sex-horny dykes in the same way I had been eaten alive by the gang-bang gay set.
Priscilla's amplified voice interrupted my reverie. "I needn't remind you chicks and dudes that the Cock 'N' Clit Country Club annually presents you with prime selections from the newest crop of the hustling profession. So now I must ask our supreme duo 'door prizes' to leave the stage and let you connoisseurs think about your bids before the actual auction begins. Thank you, Mr. Ken and Miss Melanie."
There was a tremendous roar of protest, as I headed backstage into the clutches of Big Frieda. By now, I must admit I was getting a huge ego trip out of the tongue-hanging queers eating up my dangling monstrosity with bulging eyes and crotches.
As I left the stage, Priscilla's voice still could be heard through the heavy curtains, making routine announcements. "There'll be a double ring ceremony in our beautiful wedding chapel tomorrow afternoon, performed by our own gay Reverend Harry Balls. Congregational services will commence immediately thereafter...."
I stopped listening, and once more faced the slouching, heavyset figure of Frieda, still nervously twirling her jailer's keys and staring at her watch fretfully.
"It's about time! Hot stuff coming through!" she barked and shoved a group of waiting drag show contestants out of our way, as she stomped through their midst. I trotted closely behind her, amused by the hurt whispers of annoyance from the costumed dollies straightening out the feathers and frills Big Frieda had torn and rumpled while clearing a path. And they all had cracks ready for me, too!
"Now I know where this town's 'head' is at," quipped "Mae West." Not just another dildo that walks and talks either," sighed the Playboy Bunny. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? Digging someone, and having him fuck you?" tittered the toe dancer. "After all, Michaelangelo did his best work on his back."
"Scarlett O'Hara" commented coquettishly. Shrill giggles erupted from the "girls" as they returned to their crowded positions in line awaiting their moment of glory on stage.
Panting to keep close behind the hulking dyke, I wondered what my next assignment would be. The funky music of the rhythm and blues group faded in the distance, as we barreled down one corridor, and then another. The keys in Big Frieda's fist jangled in cadence with the clomp clomp of her marching "gun boats."
"There's a lot of bread floating around at your next gig, so do anything the old moneybags you're gonna meet ask you to. Just use your usual brand of pillow talk and mattress action and lay off the booze and hors d'oeuvres," Big Frieda advised me grudgingly, as we turned down another red carpeted passageway. She finally stopped in front of a massive oak door, boldly marked "VIP LOUNGE," the name chiseled on a plaque above the doorway. I could tell that she must be drunk as a skunk by the way she fumbled around trying to insert a key from her clanking chain into the door lock. At last, she found her target and flung the door open.
"You know me, babe all pro! Sex comes first the booze and the grub don't mean a fucking thing!" I protested, as I tried to see past her into the exclusive playroom.
"My prostie held me up," Big Frieda grumbled, pointing at me accusingly, as we walked past the massive tough-looking young doorkeeper, his dark, curly hair a match for his black tuxedo. He nodded sullenly, but I noticed he managed to sneak a look down between my naked thighs at my hobbling super-special sex rejuvenator. After a good long glance, he turned and gave the high sign to a rosy cheeked teenaged boy sitting a few feet away behind a imagine antique desk. The kid was done up in a short tunic like a Roman slave. Between the spindly desk legs, I could see his plump football thighs spread wide apart revealing no undershorts, but a very adult looking and sexy basketfull, with an arched over pink peter, sagging hairy testicles, the whole scene. The youngster pressed on a loud buzzer and an almost invisible door behind him swung open. Big Frieda grabbed my hand and the two of us lurched forward into the inner chamber. The first thing I noticed was the soft luxurious carpet under my bare feet. Then as the door shut automatically behind us, I froze in my tracks at the way-out sight spread before me. It was a regular DeMille spectacular!
The enormous circular room could have been a whore's dream of a Roman Bath. Gleaming, polished floors, marble statues of Greek and Roman nudes, murals of men, boys, and animals in every position and combination you'd ever think of and then some! Around the walls were flood-lit alcoves, each one framing a beautiful adolescent boy, stark naked, his muscular body gleaming with oil as he posed on a column top. To piped-in swing music of the thirties, these animated living statues gyrated, wiggled, and put on a display of bumps and grinds worthy of Minskys, letting it all hang out.
A large circle of red velvet covered couches faced the middle of the room, each one big enough to hold two people reclining. Alongside these divans were tables holding candelabras, bottles of champagne in frosted buckets, trays piled high with sandwiches and fruit, and silver wine goblets. Scurrying around the tables were dozens of half-naked boy waiters. They wore bikini-like breechcloths, which barely covered their bulging privates and tempting chunky fannies as they waited on my future clients. The V.I.P. senior citizen gay brigade, some fifty of them, were lolling on the couches, sipping, nibbling, smoking, and dishing with one another in typical nelly fashion. If you closed your ears to all the screaming, they might have looked as dignified as a group of Roman senators, some bald or silver-haired, with sagging bony arms and tits, others with fat paunches, wrapped in draped togalike robes. Sitting or stretched out on their "seedbeds," they seemed more alive with excitement than a group of college kids.
Showcased exactly at the dead center of this whory pleasure palace was a sowly revolving king-sized black mattress mounted on a rectangular platform. All around it, indirectly lit fountains splashed, except at one spot where a miniature Venetian marble bridge gave access from the spectator couch area to the central playpen. Right above this "crash pad" turntable, on the domed ceiling, a closed circuit TV camera projected the mattress area below in giant dimensions.
"Outtasight, man! This is a real mind-fucker!" I blurted out. I fingered my sweaty balls nervously.
"A million whores in this country would give their right nuts for a chance to break into this high-falutin' faggot potpourri, so just swish your oversexed ass up there to that water bed, and use your 'queer' assets to the hilt," Big Frieda sneered coldly as she shoved me forward. Then turning to the gaping gaggle of elderly queens, she waved one beefy arm in greeting and gave them the peace sign. "Don't worry, loverboy, I'll be back for you and your next junket right on schedule," she concluded as she about faced, and clomped away noisily, slamming the door behind her.
On my own at last, I beamed and promenaded, displaying my paid-for-piece-of-meat, a true "glorification of the American Male." I reveled in the unabashed worship of these bulging eyed Medicare prospects. Walking toward the sacrificial looking water bed, my thickly veined hose and swaying balls made flighty oldsters' plucked eyebrows pop, and double chinned jowls drop. Sweaty white hands rubbed together eagerly, tongues licked thin lips hungrily, and numberless pairs of eye glasses steamed up feverishly. Some old ones who weren't wiping their glasses clean with their toga edges were already frantically undoing their belts in anticipation of the approaching action.
Squeezing my way between two of the lounges, I looked down at the one by my right. A naked, well-fed old codger, pink and bald as a baby, lay there prostrate on his face, wheezing and moaning. Straddling him, a muscle-bound and nude young attendant was pummeling his bloated carcass vigorously, alternately rubbing, slapping, and kneading the loose rolls of fatty flesh. The athletic looking masseur's eyes widened in envy as he took in my gargantuan limp bait at close range in fact, swinging heavily right in front of him. I bit my lip to keep from laughing, as his bulky client, eyes now open, stared shamelessly up at me, following my slightest move with the hungry looks of a wild animal stalking its evening meal.
On my left, two squirming figures lay, partly covered by a spread out toga. One of them, a bored looking young buck, thrust his backside hard against his ancient partner's pushing pelvis. They lay there in spoon fashion, moving slowly, but sensuously. The youngster had his face twisted to one side, far enough to meet the old one's slobbering kiss. As I pushed past, I could see his eyes run up and down my body greedily, even though he continued to submit to his playmate's frantic nibbles.
At last, I walked over the miniature arched bridge and hopped onto the black vinyl mattress. It was filled with warm, gurgling water. I laughed with pleasure as I plopped down on my back, spread-eagled my legs, and closed my eyes, savoring the cozy, relaxing sensations beneath me. "Wowie! What a way to trip out into dreamland," I sighed to myself, almost forgetting what I was there for.
Not for long, though! A voice, with a lisp like the grandmother of all fairies, rudely interrupted my reveries. "You have a whopper of a joint, darling. It's so huge and proud looking. In fact, it's so big, it's vulgar." A round of appreciative cackles and titters greeted this remark, as I felt moist, cold fingertips travel down my furry washboard abdomen, and explore my spacious navel.
Shivering, I opened my eyes. The sight greeting me directly overhead on the domed ceiling was breathtaking. There, magnificent and Herculean, was the projected image of a god.
Wearing his nudity royally, this Apollo looked back down at me, exuding masculinity to all corners of the room. It was obvious from the reflection's rock-hard physique, and "Mr. King Stud" trademark a living, great full-blooded cock, lying limp and heavy between huge muscular, hairy thighs that the televised picture couldn't he anyone else, but me!
Completely absorbed in childish self-adoration, I reveled in the admiration of these wealthy homo jetsetters jaded perverts who commuted in private planes and Rolls Royces to join together in secret and lavish lust. With a body and a flagpole like mine, how could anything really go wrong? After all, wasn't my celebrated God-given organ the foundation of Priscilla's evil plot to suck sex-starved, filthy rich "manhandlers" from all over the country and persuade them to dump their excess cash in "Queersville U.S.A.? "
From my ruggedly, handsome boyish face, with thickly lashed eyes, a straight manly nose, and pouting full lips, past my broad, deeply-muscled, silky matted chest, rocky shoulders, and outstretched immensely biceped and sinewy arms, my eyes traveled down the softly furred muscular stomach to the triangular growth that stood like a deep, wiry bush on my groin. The climax of this anatomical tour came with the force of a blow. The projected picture of my titanic pneumatic tool, exuded the promise of pleasure, veiny and pulsing. The moist velvet flesh of the bell-like tip glowed above pendulous testicles, hanging immense and bull-like. The narrow hips capped column-like hairy thighs and swelling, powerful calves. "Well," I thought as I sighed in satisfaction, "they're paying to see and feel someone special, and here it is! Me in the flesh signed, sealed, and delivered."
"It's body beautiful time," I heard a lady-like voice swoon in my ear. Soft hands moving everywhere over my body broke into my reflections. They tickled! I jumped and stifled an an urge to giggle. With eyes wide open, but in silence, I kept watching the wide screened orgiastic performance up above. "I just love contact sports," another voice cooed, as more naked old farts pressed forward and joined the crowd in kneading, pinching, and prodding at my torso. Sounds of heavy breathing and wheezing filled the room.
"They say a stiff prick knows no conscience," another nelly queen drawled, leaning over the edge of the water bed and grabbing my trunk-like plunger with both hands. It stretched and hardened in his tight grip. "Well, there goes my diet out the window!" an old man's heavy voice sighed, as his frowsy, white head dove smack down between my thighs. I could feel his fat lips touch my stretching cockhead, bathing it in small, liquid circles. I gave out with another theatrical sexy groan.
"I know it's madness, but I'm freaky for toes," a wispy old weirdo squealed, literally hurling himself at my feet, drenching them with long fervent kisses, sucking each fleshy toe avidly, and in between slurps, crying out his undying love for me.
Even for me, this was too much! I never dreamed it would go this far, but I managed to control myself, as the orgiastic panting, puffing oldsters went on with increasing desperation. Their "no-holds-barred" approach was startling and direct. Not like young lovers at all no way! These experienced "man-eaters" knew their business and took their sweet time about it, too. So much so, I finally relaxed into an "I don't give a shit" attitude, and took all they could give. "You guys are too much!" I complimented them, as I squirmed and stretched my body sexily.
Now, even more busy hands squeezed and pulled at my arms, as darting tongues savored the silky blonde hair in my armpits. Under my "worked over" stiffness, a burrowing head smashed into my loosely hanging testicles. Hot lips nibbled and sucked on the fully packed bags, sending electric shocks through my torso. "I'm tripping out of my friggin' mind," I cried, trying to sound enthusiastic. Not in need of encouragement in fact, not even listening numberless lips and tongues moved in erotic circles over my bare chest and nipples. I winced in pain as sharp teeth bit on the sensitive rubbery buttons, while other mouths chewed on my reddening shoulders. In the midst of this bizarre scene, I could feel myself becoming aroused in spite of myself. Every move of these devouring mouths seemed, in a sense, to be a kind of special homage to me. like male-devotees of a sex cult, worshipping at the altar of a glorified body.
Just then, out of nowhere, two long skinny, blue-white arms were thrown around my neck, and an old craggy faced creep planted a big wet kiss full on my mouth. Slobbering obscenely, he tried to force his tongue between my tightly closed lips. I fought for a second, but by now, I was so involved in the expert lovemaking, piling sensation on sensation, that my torso twisted and writhed in uncontrollable passion. My mouth opened as he thrust an urgent tongue so deep down my throat, I gagged and choked uncontrollably. Returning kiss for kiss, I sucked on that ramming tongue, nearly pulling it out by its roots, giving back pain for pain, pleasure for pleasure, and swallowing down the juicy wetness.
Down below, my throbbing white-headed lover worked away piston-like at my straining nine incher. This time, the feeling was different! His velvety sucking seemed to be void of any sharp edges, as fleshy toothless gums slid back and forth. The ecstasy of this new technique almost sent me into orbit, as my slippery rod quivered and twitched in answer. The vigorous "eating" movements made my pelvis bounce up and down on the water-filled mattress, jamming my fiery cocktip against the back of his gurgling, strangling throat. , At last, the skinny Methusalah up top broke off his marathon kiss, withdrawing his long, slobbering tongue. I gulped for air and felt sick with the mixed smells of sweating old bodies and musky sex organs. My head was immediately jerked to one side, and there, inches away, was a throbbing, long dick wavering invitingly in front of my face. Grubby fingers pushed back the slippery foreskin that covered its hidden, wet head. Then it came right at me like a pile driver, forcing me to open my mouth and take it in all the way to the hilt. My forehead bumped against a rotund, pudgy belly, hairy and moist. Grunting with short breaths of utter delight, my fat attacker slid his pulsing, salt-flavored penis automatically in and out of my gaping mouth in a frenzy of pumping action. Whimpering deliriously, I tried vainly to move away from the rampaging invader, but my resistance only seemed to spur him on to even wilder sexual exploits. Moaning and sighing in ecstasy, he churned his hips against my sweat-smeared face, till with a final convulsive shudder, letting out a frantic yelp, he approached his final climax. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting expectantly for the splatter of his gushing white-hot seed. Letting out a Tarzan-like roar, he drove his vibrating endowment that extra inch deeper into me, and then with a final jerk, he exploded one piddly spurt of jizz and that was it! I grimaced, as I swallowed the creamy droplet effortlessly. Tense and shivering, his large protruding stomach almost smothered me as he fell forward, trembling in exhaustion and bliss. Angrily, I pushed against the fleshy and wrinkled carcass, fighting for a little air through squashed nostrils. Minutes later, his shriveled peter slipped out from my drooling lips, and I breathed freely again. But what odors! Waves of animal lust and the strong aroma of "old" sweat clouded the arena.
"Oh, fuck this shit!" I thought to myself, getting bored. The weirdness of the situation brought me back to reality. I was here to service a bunch of mangy, decrepit fossils in the art of lovemaking. Really turned off, I definitely made up my mind to get out of this God awful whoring job and to sever all connections with that freak chick, Priscilla, come hell or high water this very night!
Tense and rigid, and almost oblivious to the growing sensations brought on by the groping, licking crew, I recoiled in discomfort as anxious hands fondled the soft contours of my well rounded rump. Then a sharp fingernail penetrated my most private opening, lunging deeply inside. I grit my teeth against the pain that shot through my bowels and merged with the delicious thrills coming from the tireless, toothless cock-sucker still selfishly working away for his reward. Just as it seemed he might go on forever, he stopped, and his gripping mouth removed its pleasurable hold.
Someone yanked my legs wide apart and shoved his knees in between. I looked down curiously past my glistening, jerking pole to see who this aggressive new ravisher might be. My eyes lit on an ugly old pumpkin faced character as I'd seen all evening, his eyes blazing with bloodshot desire and his thin lips open showing big yellow horse teeth. "Come on, let me in that tail!" he ordered, lifting my heavy legs with some difficulty, and finally succeeding in resting them on his bony hairy shoulders. Then he slid both his hands under my posterior, urging me to move down onto his outthrust weapon. Not feeling very cooperative, I just let the hoary veteran do all the work.
He spit into his hand and rubbed the slippery saliva over the whole length of his saber. "I can tell you groove getting your ass fucked, right?" he asked hopefully, as he guided his boner up to the very center of my tight anus.
I cried out involuntarily, as with one quick savage jab, he pushed a ruthless path into my tight and tender ass hole. His coarse and grizzled pubic hair scraped my cheeks, as he rammed his thighs forward and ground his hard-on full force into my pain racked bottom.
"Oooooh, how great! Nice and tight! How does it feel?" he croaked, lowering my legs from his bony shoulders and letting them drop down around his baggy waist. "Move that ass, baby. I know you love every minute of it," he puffed, his stringy frame falling over my fullness, my hard pillar flat against his furry belly, pushing against his navel.
Then it happened! The slickness between our sandwiched bodies set off an electric shock wave that burned a trail through my broiling innards, leaving me strangely transported. Our tangled forms fused together, flesh against flesh, as the sex slammer pounded into my pelvis. Driving himself with all his strength, toes dug in, he pushed me deep into the water-filled action pad, drilling and reaming my chasm. I let out involuntary animal sounds, pain and pleasure taking turns sweeping through my trembling body, while the ultra-hip spectators applauded wildly in appreciation of our far-out bravura performance.
The sweat running down the saggy ruts and wrinkles of my brutal aggressor made our sexual coupling a dripply, clammy mess. He pushed his hand between our stomachs and grabbed my taut erectness, gripping it hard. I let out sobs of ecstasy while his fingers slipped up and down my sensitive loaded cannon, faster and faster.
"Give me your lips, sweetheart," he begged. His bad breath wheezed hotly from his hairy nostrils smack into my face. I strained backwards trying to avoid his open mouth, but irked by my obvious distaste, he worked his thick tongue busily down my neck, then up to my ear, sloshing in and out noisily. "What a great piece of ass," he kept muttering.
Very slowly, my raunchy Romeo would withdraw his throbbing swollen member almost to the tip, then even more slowly, return the hardened shaft into my aching opening, plunging in to the hilt. His bristly chin dug into my tender shoulder as his piggish grunts added a touch of the barnyard to the fun and games. Letting go of my cock, he cupped my behind firmly, allowing his sizzling pecker to rest deep inside me. Only for a second, though, then he was off again for the swift ride home.
In spite of myself, I responded to this super professional rape job. Getting closer and closer to a giant blowout, I wrapped my legs tighter than ever around his flabby waist, letting the friction from his heavy, pitching motions on top carry me on to my own explosion. My man-to-man rider shifted into second, building up his speed gradually, pressing inward harder and harder, heaving and tunneling in fiery plunges. Zeroing in on the homestretch, his tireless machine seemed to have reached places inside me never before even touched.
"Do you want my load? Tell me if you want it now?" he panted in my ear.
Not answering, I wailed in exaggerated protest, ass-weary from his rough-and-tumble onslaught.
"Well, you're gonna get it, like it or not!" he promised, and went on screwing frantically. We were really giving the drunken customers what they wanted a televised and live rape act they could view while they waited impatiently for their own turn.
I had just about "had it!" Much to my relief, my sexual fury seemed ripe and ready to be spent, so in a last minute of madness, I reversed my tactics, and twisting and turning my hips, lurched upwards to meet every drilling thrust of the wrinkled avenger. "Fuck me, damn it fuck!" I shouted crazily, the lewdness of the situation crowding out all other thoughts I rocked my head back and forth wildly, my mind a delirium of lust, no longer thinking, just feeling.
"I know you want it, honey. And here it comes take it!" he gurgled breathlessly, beginning a final torrid series of pelvic lunges, so together with mine we seemed to soar to a plane of lustful insanity. For a wonderful moment, his body tensed and shuddered on the brink. Then I felt the full power of his shooting come as his bloated sword squeezed and spilled into the very depths of my guts. "Oh, baby, get it in there!"
The sensations of this floodtide filling my ass with scorching sex juice sent a delicious flush through me, igniting the spark that launched my own hot fluids and sent them gushing upward. "Christ, you're fucking the shit out of me!" I groaned, as giant emissions from my own red-hot rod finally blasted forth with stormy body-shaking jolts. "Oh, damn it it's good, too good!" I crooned, my warm creamy semen shooting onto our hairy chests, soaking both our stomachs, sprinkling and dribbling over our chins and throats. We heaved in uncontrollable open-mouthed, breathless "togetherness."
Locked in a sweaty embrace, we hung on desperately to the feel we knew must soon vanish. My ravished anus, sweetly aching, seemed the natural home of this unnatural invader, his deeply embedded, copulating organ. "Don't move now. Leave it in there, you old bastard!" I whispered harshly. He cackled like a dirty old man should, so we just stayed that way for long minutes, catching our breath. The therapeutic delight of the floating bed was so warm and comfortable, I felt myself sliding into a dreamy state of total sexual bliss.
My super-satisfied bedmate finally eased his still partially erect joystick from my stretched-out rear entry. I sighed in relief and regret, as the overwhelming fullness gave way to an aching void. His withdrawal caused a loud "pop" as his thick, sticky seed oozed down over my sore cheeks. Then, patting my quivering legs affectionately, the rutty old goat stumbled drunkenly back from the bouncy water bed. Exhausted, I flung one heavy arm over my face, utterly drained and ready for beddie-bye.
I was about to doze off when I heard my ravisher simper, "He's all yours, kids." That short statement caused havoc, as all hell broke loose! The lusty, sex-horny audience hardly needed the message. They fell all over me, digging and clawing like the sex-crazed deviates they were. It was like a nightmarish dream, seeing these oncoming, bulging-eyed pansies fighting and threatening each other over every square inch of my carcass. My cries for help went unheard as the frantic crowd piled on, pushing me down into the vinyl mattress. Frightened, all thoughts of sex fled my mind as I feared the worst that the hundreds of pounds of tired old flesh piling on top of me would either crush me to death or tear the mattress apart. And that's exactly what happened!
With a loud rip, the water mattress split open, pouring gallons of water in every direction like the Johnstown Flood. My aged attackers, makeup running, wigs damp and crooked, robes soaked and soggy, let out little shrieks and frantic trills as they stampeded away slopping through the ankle deep water, leaving my bruised and beaten body alone as if I were a leper. Lying there like a stomped-on bug, I could only sigh in relief at the funky solution that had come in the nick of time, saving me from the weight of my assailants.
"Good gracious! What the hell happened here?" a familiar voice exclaimed. It was Dr. Prickett. I laughed, relieved to hear his voice. He looked around, obviously struck dumb by my chaotic surroundings. Then he cautiously tiptoed over the bridge and picked his way through the shredded remains of the mattress to my side. I noticed he had a small metal lock-box tucked under one arm.
"Join the nude set, pops. As you can see, I'm just too potent for these tired queers," I bragged, as I glanced over toward my ex-bedfellows, now clustered in little groups on their divans, busily wiping themselves off with their togas, and complaining in shrill voices. "Isn't this what you'd call a gay turn-off?"
"This is no time for jesting, Kenneth," Dr. Prickett scolded me, looking worried. His eyes were glued on my manly charms, still highly visible and generously soaked in a mixture of glistening sweat and icky goo. "I've already practically committed suicide stealing these hot papers from Priscilla's private vault. The blunt, awful truth is that although we've got enough incriminating evidence right here to ruin that dirty young girl's bawdy house operation once and for all, we've got to get it into the hands of the right people, and there's no chance of turning back even if we wanted to. So keep your fingers crossed. If our escape succeeds great! But God forbid, if we fail we'll be royally castrated! Even our murder wouldn't disturb that power-hungry child, I dare say. Come along, let's get out of here before I have a heart attack just thinking about it," Dr. Prickett gestured to me with a trembling hand.
"Getting involved with that sex freak was really a bad trip for all of us," I philosophized. "This kind of slavery bullshit has got to stop, money or no money," I concluded, standing up gingerly on the slippery, deflated water bed. "That demented psycho has gone too far this time. I mean, poor Melanie and I are just robots to her puppets to be used for her rotten profits. Jesus, sex should be pleasure as well as business," I whined in self-pity, picking a couple of black curly body hairs off my messy torso..
"Good God, boy, shut your hole! I'm frightened!" Dr. Prickett stammered, his rabbity nose twitching with anxiety. "You don't quite seem to understand that I have the data right here in my hands that will keep us out of Priscilla's clutches forever. We still have to get out of this dump before anybody finds out these documents are missing. They're dynamite, and that little booger will go ape when she notices they're missing. I wouldn't put anything too gory or gruesome past her...."
"Oh-oh, better get lost, dad, 'cause here comes our butch lesbian friend again," I interrupted. "You know, the way she busts in really breaks me up...."
"Oh, heavens!" Dr. Prickett turned white as a ghost and hid the strongbox behind his back, as he turned to face Big Frieda, elbowing her way through the entrance door. "Don't waste a second, Ken. Bring Melanie with you to the backstage dressing room that opens onto the alley. I'll have my limousine ready for a fast getaway," the fidgety old codger whispered into my ear. His nonchalance faded, as the big bull dyke came storming toward us, her horse face beet red with anger.
"Hey, stud-streetwalker! A nice botched up job you've pulled here, musclehead. You stupid males are all alike you're all fucked up!" Big Frieda yelled at the top of her voice, frowning at me and Dr. Prickett. She turned to him insultingly. "What the shit are you doing here in the VIP Lounge, you old fart? Her Highness wanted you in her office at least an hour ago, .so get your saggy ass over there." Her beady eyes narrowed as she noticed that Dr. Prickett was hiding something behind his back. I held my breath waiting to see if she'd follow through and ask what it was.
"Why you vulgar idiot! Just who do you think you're calling a fart? If you persist in showing your ignorance of proper manners and courtesy this way, I'm afraid I must leave!" Dr. Prickett bristled with exaggerated indignation. Deliberately distracting Frieda's attention, he lifted his chin into the air, and edged toward the door, careful to keep the metal box hidden from her sight.
"Now wait a damn minute, Mac!" Big Frieda roared, madder than ever, but too late. Dr. Prickett had disappeared through the doorway. I sighed in relief. "Aw, fuck off, Mary! Who needs him, the old fossil? Let 'em twirl on this!" Frieda shouted, thrusting a thick middle finger up into the air toward Prickett's vanished figure. "I wouldn't trust that old wreck if my life depended on it. Remind me to mention this little incident to the boss. If I had my way, that old sawbones would be six feet under right now. What does Mrs. Rigsby see in an old coot like that?" the grumpy lex muttered to herself, hatred still gleaming in her bleary eyes. Finally, she turned to me. O.K., chippie, let's hotfoot it over to the office on the double." Giving me a fast once-over, she sneered in disgust, and paraded off in a huff toward the back door, pushing her way through the bewildered, withered "fruits."
We left the circular sex arena, Frieda in front, me behind jogging along like a puppy dog at his master's heels. A nice feeling came from the "slap" of my lengthy cock as it swung freely against my wet thighs at every step. Up stairs and down another long corridor, we finally stopped at a doorway marked "Private Absolutely No Admittance." My heart sank as I heard Priscilla's familiar piercing laughter coming from within the office.
"Listen, do me a favor, wilya, buddy?" I pleaded. "Where's there a John so I can at least wipe off my...."
Big Frieda didn't even listen, as she flung the door wide open. I was shocked, but also pleasantly surprised, to see Melanie standing inside, still stark nude and intently watching something just out of my vision. For a second, I felt a strong urge to rush forward and embrace my copartner's familiar sexy body right then and there! She looked so good in contrast to that homo freak-in that one glance from her smoldering green eyes was all I needed to make me go weak in the knees.
Priscilla's giggles broke up my horny fantasy, as Big Frieda shoved me forward, closing the door behind us. I could hardly believe the sight going on before my eyes!
There sat our sexually deranged employer, sprawled in an office chair, her mini skirt pushed up to her waist, and her shapely legs wide apart. Purring ecstatically, she patted the head of an immense Saint Bernard dog busily engrossed in slurping all over the inside of her thighs, up and down, back and forth, working its way toward her "homemade" pussy and spearing its long tongue into the depths of her hairy target. Whimpering and licking like mad, the huge dog sported a shiny red penis which extended like an overripe pimiento.
"Hey, King Stud! Enjoying the evening? Every night is New Year's Eve around here," Priscilla greeted me, a lascivious twinkle in her China blue eyes. She looked approvingly over my jizz matted physique. "Meet one of your new sex playmates 'Spiro,' the most versatile canine since Lassie. He's got a whole new repertoire of boudoir tricks. How does that grab you?" She looked down at the lapping mutt. "Easy, boy. Come to mama!" she commanded, as the great animal obediently leaped upward, planting its huge paws on her square bony shoulders. The panting beast began automatically bumping and pumping frantically against her body.
"Oh, Kenny," Melanie cried unhappily, as she ran over and threw her arms around my neck. She buried her pretty face in my shoulder, shuddering. The feeling of her warm, curvy frame rubbing against me filled me with pleasure.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, dearie," Priscilla addressed Melanie coldly, a little irritated at her obvious revulsion. "Remember, honey, you were nothin' but a two-bit wench when I dragged you off the streets. You've never made so much money before, and I'm not about to give up a good thing just because you're getting so hoity-toity and sensitive."
"You're damned right!" Big Frieda chimed in, her hungry eyes feasting on Melanie's fully-packed fanny. "We've been working up a new gimmick to spotlight you two for a long time and this triple-spectacular is it! Your new act is bound to be the biggest hit we've had in years. Yep, sex for profit night and day, anytime and anywhere, that's our motto."
"Down, and sit!" Priscilla ordered "Spiro" impatiently, pushing away the ecstatic dog still convulsed over her body. The Saint Bernard obediently climbed down, trotted over to the other end of the room, and sat on his haunches, panting. "I've got something special worked up for you, too, my Greek God," Priscilla cooed sweetly in my direction. She looked over at Big Frieda and winked. "Let 'J. Edgar' out of the closet, darling," she ordered. With an evil leer, the lezzie wolf followed her directions, patting Melanie affectionately on the behind as she went by.
Melanie and I looked at each other wondering what next. "If only I had some way to tell you about our escape plan," I thought to myself, as I observed the sick, questioning expression in her green eyes.
Just then, loud squealing noises filled the office, as an enormous round bellied, pink and white pig ran grunting from the closet. Melanie and I gasped as the swine made a beeline for Priscilla's snatch, as if on cue, nuzzling and sucking violently.
"Come on, blondie, meet your new co-worker. He's divine!" the sick boozehound laughed. Holding her sides with mirth, Priscilla cried, " 'J. Edgar,' meet Ken, your newest partner in crime. What a suck-sexual sensation you two are gonna be!"
"You're beautiful, your Highness-just beautiful!" Big Frieda commented, guffawing and slapping her knees in glee.
While they were preoccupied with their own joke, I whispered hurriedly in Melanie's ear. "Don't ask questions, but whatever happens, do exactly as I tell you. We'll be splitting this joint in the next hour!" Melanie looked at me, startled, and then her eyes began to shine with hope.
The office entrance door flew open as the tuxedoed, young tough of a doorkeeper from the VIP room entered and spoke in a low, husky voice. "Sorry to intrude, Miss Priscilla, but your two 'special' prosties are due on stage for the door prize bidding in three minutes." Even his blase manner was shattered when he got a good look at the snorting porker, slobbering away at Priscilla's crotch. Recovering his cool, he finally shrugged and left the room.
"Go peddle your choice prime butts on stage like good children, and we'll continue this little discussion later," Priscilla dismissed us like an empress excusing her subjects.
Melanie held my hand tightly as we headed toward the hallway, taking one last horrified look at panting "Spiro" and squealing "J. Edgar."
"Just follow your noses and I'll catch up in a jiffy," Big Frieda urged. Her beady eyes roamed over Melanie's voluptuous curves greedily, as she closed the office door behind us.
I suspected there was something fishy in Frieda letting us go out alone like that, so holding Melanie back, I pressed my ear against the door and strained to hear what was being said inside. It was easy to understand our two jailers conversing through the thin panel.
"By the way, sweets, I caught that old troll Prickett rapping to muscleboy in the Lounge alone and I could have sworn he was trying to hide some sort of metal strongbox behind his back. Did the old fart ever show up?" the suspicious lesbo rasped accusingly.
"Strongbox!" Priscilla gasped, obviously upset, her voice frightened, but angry. "No, I haven't seen that filthy, rotten double-dealing rat! If that mother-fucker got hold of our records of foreign dope sales, bank holdup receipts, or my file of imported teenage prostitutes, our asses will be 'federally' cooked! Look, while I check the vault, I want you to bring those two morons back here this minute, 'dya hear? I smell trouble!"
Sensing the mad flurry of anguish and confusion about to break on our heads, I whispered to Melanie, "Come on we're splitting!" Without further warning, I dragged my reluctant sidekick down the long corridor, desperately searching for an exit.
"Oh, Ken, we'll never make it! We'll never find a way out," Melanie sputtered breathlessly, as she stumbled along after me. "Those two are terrible! I'm afraid, I'm so afraid."
"Shut up!" I snapped in annoyance. Just then, I spotted a doorway marked "Exit." Wildly, I yanked the door open and shoved Melanie through, taking a quick glance back toward the office before following. "We can't stop now. This may be our only chance our last chance to get away," I exclaimed, racing frantically down the stairway.
When we reached the bottom, I turned to my gasping, naked sexmate. Even in our desperate situation, I couldn't take my eyes off her heaving, voluptuous boobies. "Honey, it's like this. The doc has planned to pick us up in his car and get us out of this whorehouse right now. He said he'd be parked just outside the backstage dressing room wherever the hell that is."
"Hey, you stupid shits!" an irritated voice thundered from above. Melanie and I jumped in fright, and then stood there paralyzed with fear, like two rabbits in front of a boa constrictor. Big Frieda loomed above us at the top of the stairs, her ugly face screwed up in a snarling grimace. "What the hell are you nitwits doing down there? You're supposed to be...."
"Move your ass!" I hissed at Melanie, pushing her through another doorway, and then pulling her along behind me as we ran down another long hall. We could hear Big Frieda following us, roaring like a bull, the stomping of her "gun boats" reverberating down the stairwell. In back of me, Melanie let out the most God-awful scream since Fay Wray in "King Kong." Alarmed, I glanced over my shoulder to see the puffing lesbian gaining on us and looking even more like the biggest dyke this side of the Zuyder Zee, her face flushed and red, and her barrel chest heaving with anger.
"Thank God for small favors," I breathed in relief, as I spotted the "Backstage Dressing Room" sign. Literally diving for the door, I yanked it open and pulled my terrified companion into the familiar perfume and sweat scented drag queen's dressing room. Desperately, I slammed it shut, pushed Melanie toward the back wall, and stood protectively in front of her hot, trembling nudeness. Her moist boobs and furry snatch pressed sensually against my perspiring slippery back.
Seconds later, like a raging tornado, the lezzie monster threw open the door and hurled toward me, her hammy hands automatically reaching for my throat. Quick as a flash, I dodged past her, threw myself against the door, and locked it to keep anyone else from coming in. Anothe ears-plitting shriek from Melanie warned me to turn just in time to face the bull lesbo's renewed charge. Prepared for a bloody showdown, I tried to dodge the sea of fists coming at me too late!
Our bodies crashed together as we battled like two boxers, raining reckless blows on one another anywhere we could connect. Unluckily, Frieda drew first blood. One of her gristly fists landed right on target over my left eye, and I really saw stars. Taking advantage of my temporary grogginess, she grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head viciously downward, and struck the back of my neck with a blow that would have felled an ox. Almost blacking out, I crumpled to my knees on th floor.
The room was whirling about like a merry-go-round, but with my one good eye, I could still see Melanie pleading with Frieda to leave us alone and trying to hold her back from undoing her massive belt buckle.
"Remove that hand or I'll remove your body!" Frieda snarled at poor frightened Melanie. "I'm going to teach this original 'no talent' a lesson, that nobody but nobody quits Priscilla! It's gonna be a real pleasure to impress that fact into pea brain over there," she threatened with a deliriously wicked grin.
"Get out of the way, Melanie!" I warned, as I recovered enough to get to my feet, one arm in front of my face to ward off the whizzing leather belt and metal buckle. I groaned in agony as whack after whack of the whipping strap seared across my bare arm, head, and shoulder. In spite of the pain, I closed in on my crazed flogger, determined to put an end to her torture.
I had about one split second to see Big Frieda's arm raise high for the kill. Then with all the strength left in me, I launched a rocketing fist through the air and landed it smack on Frieda's kisser, scattering blood and bits of teeth in all directions. Moaning, she dropped the belt to the floor and clutched her bleeding mouth with both hands. Grabbing the leather weapon as it fell, I wrapped it around her fat neck in a strangle hold, and then with a firm grip on both ends of the belt, dragged her toward the double mirrored dressing table. Shoving the choking lezzie from behind with all my might, I watched, panting, as Big Frieda plowed into the table like a Sherman tank, hitting it with a tremendous crash. Cosmetics and makeup kits flew in all directions, and the long mirror shattered into a million pieces.
"Oh, my poor baby," Melanie rushed over and threw her arms around me.
"Outside let's go!" I choked, dragging my pain racked body with Melanie's help toward the door. Once outside in the night air, I felt a surge of relief. To think, we were finally going to escape from Priscilla's slavery and this whole bad scene! A moment later, I groaned in dismay. There was no car and no Dr. Prickett in sight anywhere. Just total darkness.
"Oh, Jesus, no!" I cried, looking up and down the road anxiously. "Haven't we had enough bad breaks already? This is a real bummer, believe me."
"Oh, darling, where is he? Where is Dr. Prickett?" Melanie whimpered hysterically, clasping and unclasping her hands and batting her saucer-sized green eyes helplessly at me.
To make things even worse, Big Frieda, fully recovered, appeared in the doorway. "I'll fix you, you wormy male pig!" she cursed, practically frothing at the mouth. We stood frozen, unable to think of any way to escape her attack. Then she took off toward us, one hand reaching for my throat, while the other held up her sagging pants.
Just at that moment, like a miracle, we heard the sound of a car speeding down the gravel drive in the dark. It screeched to a halt only feet away from us. The front door was flung open and we heard Dr. Prickett's welcome voice calling our names.
"Oh, thank heavens, it's Dr. Prickett at last," Melanie almost swooned in ecstasy, as she ran to the car and leaped into the front seat. I turned to hold up the oncoming rush of Big Frieda.
"Why you son of a bitching, double-crossing traitors!" she snapped, a look of pure hatred blazing from her freaked-out eyes. Then she came at me like a football lineman.
Ready for her this time, I threw a body block and hit her with such force, she landed on the ground as if a ten ton truck had clipped her. For a time, she lay there completely winded. Taking advantage of her zonked out state, I yanked her loose trousers down till they lay tangled around her army boots. I had to laugh in spite of myself at the sight of her boxer undershorts and the thick dark patch or wiry pubic hair protruding menacingly through the open fly.
"Whoever said, "A good pussy is the best fly trap?'" I thought, as I got up, ran over and jumped into the back seat of the waiting limousine. But before I could get the door shut, I felt an icy grip fasten around my ankle and pull at me violently. Relentlessly, Big Frieda had crawled after me and was making one last do or die effort to hang on to her victim.
"Oh, God, not again! This is unbelievable! I can't stand it! I just can't take it any longer!" Melanie got completely hysterical in the front seat.
"Get rid of that lard ass, Ken, for Christ's sake! We've got to get the hell out of here before those strong-armed goons come running!" Dr. Prickett wailed panic-stricken.
"Fuck this shit!" I thought in disgust, and drove my knee into Frieda's bulging midsection. She let out a piggish grunt and doubled up in pain, out of breath again for another precious minute. "O.K., 'Mac,' you wanta come along for the ride, huh?" I jested, grabbing her by the hair, and with my other hand, pulling at her underpants. With one mighty tug, I lifted the hefty moose clear through the door and into the back of the automobile. Her shorts ripped apart in my hands, exposing several acres of whit flabby posterior to full view.
Big Frieda's head hit the opposite door of the Rolls Royce with a bony thud, and she lay there on the floor wedged tightly between the front and back seats. like a wrestler, I jumped and landed full force on the butch girl's meaty back. My nude front covered her naked seat snugly, as I pressed against her to keep her under control. The warmth of her soft, chunky rump sent a sexy shock through my hairy crotch and my long, limp penis, now squeezed in between her sweaty cleft.
"Close that door, Melanie!" Dr. Prickett shouted, jammed his foot of the accelerator, gunned the motor, and took off down the winding road, tires screeching.
With the ferociousness of a trapped animal, Big Frieda fought to escape from under me. "Get off, you dumb cocksucker, or I'll castrate you with my own bare hands!" Grimly determined, I kept my hold in silence, pushing my lengthening dick further into her wobbling buttocks. I began breathing faster with the exciting tenseness of the situation.
Foolishly, I loosened the pressure on her shoulders for just a second, and raised myself up far enough to look down at my own maleness pressing sexily into her backside. That's all Big Frieda needed. With one strong thrust, she bounced her head backward, and caught me with her bullet hard skull just above my sore eye, another direct hit on the same spot as before. The pain brought tears to my eyes, as a massive bruise began to form. My eyeball was now swollen and beginning to close completely.
"Ooooohhh, you dirty bastard!" I sobbed, the agony from my hurt face making my body shiver. "I'll fix your fucking ass dyke!" I promised, and deliberately ground my groin into her fleshy rear. Working up a steel-like hard-on, I threatened her with an honest to goodness rape job. "How about a nice, fat nine incher cocksicle?"
Big Frieda flinched and answered defiantly. "I swear to Christ, I'll kill you if you try anything stupid, prick face. Do you hear me? I'll kill you!"
"Just relax, 'girlie,' and you'll soon be in seventh heaven." Breathing hotly, I buried my face between her thick neck and shoulder. I deliberately pressed the moist spongy tip of my hardness against her sensitive anal entrance, a spark of electricity passing between us. The astonished les tensed, then tried to break loose in a last wrenching and jerking attempt to free herself from her cramped position. "Attagirl fight it, fight it!" I yelled, slowly and relentlessly piercing her tight, hair lined hole with my driving rapier. "I love your ass," I cooed, as the pressure from her all-encompassing canal brought me little by little to the height of passion.
Without warning, the car made a sharp swerve on the winding road, throwing Big Frieda's huge carcass hard against me. I gave out with a long, animal moan, as my loaded machine, aided by the car motion, plunged in a full soul-stirring penetration all the way between her plump cheeks. I felt a throbbing of pure pleasure surge through my legs and genitals as my hips ground wildly forward and backward in long, clean movements. I reveled in the firmness and elasticity of her flesh, as I screwed like a lust-crazed rapist.
Big Frieda, wriggling and squirming, seemed genuinely shocked at my surprise attack on her virginal butt. Her horse face was twisted with hatred and disgust with my carnal assault. Ignoring her displeasure, I pumped away until we were both gasping in time with the sucking rhythm of our bodies. With my eyes closed and my chin dug roughly into her back, I abandoned myself to the fun. Jerking up and down with fiercer and fiercer jabs, I could feel the approach of a delicious climax.
The Rolls Royce ground to a sudden halt, and Dr. Prickett switched off the headlights, leaving us blacked out in the darkness of the night. Annoyed by the interruption, just as I was about to shoot my wad, I looked up with my one good eye. Staring back down at me were the apprehensive doctor and little nervous Melanie. For a minute or two, they both just gaped in silence at what they saw.
"Oh, sweetheart, your face is a mess," Melanie finally blurted out. "You hateful cunt!" she screamed accusingly at the writhing amazon brute beneath me.
"Good God, Kenneth. What on earth's gotten into you? Here we are, our lives in dreadful danger, and you're fucking around on the floor. You really must be sick! Well, we've got to get rid of that bitch pronto, and for good!" Dr. Prickett scolded impatiently. "Wait a minute! I know what we'll do. I've got some stuff right here in my bag that'll knock her out for hours. One shot in the rear and she'll be cold as a mackerel in minutes. Then we'll dump her at the side of the road, and get the hell out of here." With that, he fumbled inside a valise that rested between him and Melanie on the front seat.
"Are my ears deceiving me, or did I hear right?" Big Frieda piped up hysterically. "Listen, you impotent old fag. If you stick a needle in this babe's ass, you'll be sorry you were ever born! I'll get even with you if it takes me a lifetime!" Desperate, she began bucking like a wild mare, hell-bent on shaking me off her naked back.
"Keep your trap shut, you twat, or I'll beat you to death!" I threatened, hanging on for dear life. I pulled up on my arm lock, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and used all my strength to maneuver her so that a sizable hunk of her broad derriere would be within striking range of the doctor's hypodermic needle. At the same time, my body quivered in ecstasy as each and every bounce of her tail massaged my bigger than life-sized organ toward newer heights of passion.
"Oh, be careful, darlings, and pu-leeze hurry!" Melanie whined, looking apprehensively through the rear window, wringing her hands.
"Come on, doc, damn it. Shove the frigging needle in!" I shouted impatiently. The luscious action of those blubbery cheeks against my lower belly caused me to gasp with involuntary delight. The pressure of her rectal passage throttling my blood-gorged column so tightly was gradually driving me right out of my skull.
"Attaboy, sonny, hold the patient still just one more second," Dr. Prickett puffed jubilantly, his grinning face red and flushed as he leaned far over the front seat and aimed a menacing long needle at the bouncing fanny of the frantic lavender fem. When the glistening metal point found its mark, Big Frieda let out a shriek like a stuck pig. Dr. Prickett's approving grunt reassured us the contents were now safely well inside her buttocks.
Moaning like a savage animal, the panting lesbian's eyes were already glazing over. This was for real, and she knew it! With a desperate whimper, Frieda fought the effects of the drug, but in just a few seconds, her struggles ceased and she lay still and limp. Meanwhile, my throbbing erection was still buried deep in that unresponding hot chasm. Its tight pleasurable grip didn't let up. In fact, the pressure seemed to intensify, if anything. Very carefully, I relaxed my hold on the dormant lezzie. With my full weight on top of her sweaty torso, I let go of her arm and head. I gulped with the wild sensation of having my privates completely trapped in the slippery heat of Frieda's anal prison. In spite of myself, I knew I was now too far gone to abandon my victim till I'd gone all the way to final orgasm.
In the excitement, neither Dr. Prickett nor Melanie seemed aware of my dilemma. He heaved a sigh of relief as he slid back down in the driver's seat and fumbled with his carrying case in the dark. Melanie patted him approvingly on the head.
"Thank you, my dear," Dr. Prickett smiled, wheezing noisily. "Now just let me catch my breath for a moment or two. It'll take all three of us, you know, to drag this bloated hunk of blubber out of the car."
With only seconds to spare, I feverishly reached around Big Frieda with both hands, digging underneath her leather jacket and damp t-shirt, hunting for the warm globes of her monstous breasts. First, I found her nipples, like hard firm nuts, then I cupped both her voluptuous tits.
Almost tearing them apart, I clawed and dug with my fingers deep into the balloon shaped mounds. "God Almighty!" I breathed passionately, my fuck-maddened joint fighting the walls of her opening for space, more space, steeping itself in her zonked out body. Thrill upon thrill lashed at my groin, as our sweaty flesh met and parted, met and parted. I growled deep in my throat as long low whimpers of joy came from my lips. It was just too much, man! Huge breasts, wide hips, and the two soft, close-together muscles of that double-cushioned bottom.
Moving easily and fearlessly into that slippery hole, I rose and fell all the way in one last stroke and finally exploded with a great shudder, a lavish eruption that started between my legs and rose through my stomach to my tongue. I felt the hot wash of the spreading sperm bathe my rutting machine in a warm flood and lost myself in the oblivion of her juicy abyss. "If this dyke could only feel my cock tearing her ass hole apart, she'd never forget me!" I thought to myself, as the receptively passive rear end surrounded and accepted my throbbing manhood, drinking its surging cargo dry. My body went tense as the paralysis of climax began to take over, while my lust-flushed brain nearly swooned with the delight of the thick shooting, earth shaking spurts. I rocked and jolted with insatiable desire as I continued to plow, plow, plow, forcing my way fully inside her come-filled tunnel of love.
Victorious and gratified, I slumped over exhausted, limp as a rag. I hung on to the slowly diminishing orgiastic throbs still pulsing through my rigid two-by-four, as my chest rose and fell against her sweaty, jizz-flecked backside. I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in time with my throbbing, spent tool I smiled to myself and tried to visualize Frieda's face when she woke up to the ache and pain in her stretched, overflowing rectum.
"Let's get moving, Melanie. Every minute counts!" Dr. Prickett yelled, jumping out and running around the other side of the limousine to open her door.
I reluctantly withdrew my saturated tube from Big Frieda's corn-holed socket, just as Dr. Prickett opened the back door, next to my feet. Slowly, I lifted my played out body up off the ravished and now snoring butch female.
"You grab that end, Kenny, while we hoist the tail," Dr. Prickett suggested, his eyes riveted on my oozing, drenched club.
I turned around clumsily in the tight quarters to face my two fellow conspirators, my rump pressing against the opposite door. Momentarily, my good eye zeroed in on Melanie's swaying melons and her triangular centerpiece. I had forgotten that she was still bare-assed to the breeze, too. Leaning forward, I reached around Big Frieda's overblown body and wrapped both my arms around her fully packed bosom. Getting a good grip on her gigantic knockers, I lifted upward with one mighty tug, my dripping straight-shooter resting atop the dangling frowsy head of our unconscious victim.
Big Fireda's dungarees were still pulled down and twisted at her ankles just above her size twelve Army boots, so Melanie and Dr. Prickett had to lift both heavy legs at once. Weaving and stumbling like drunken clowns, they pulled and I shoved till we finally got "two-ton Tillie" out of the car.
"Over here, kids," Dr. Prickett directed, as we carried the limp les to the dirt embankment at the side of the highway.
"Oh, Dr. Prickett, look back that way! I see car lights!" Melanie cried, wide-eyed and hysterical, as she stared in the direction of the Cock 'N' Clit Country Club.
That was all we needed to hear! With one mighty heave, we tossed the weighty, half nude dyke over the curbing and watched her knocked out carcass roll till it came to rest against a metal signpost. She was still sleeping like a baby, thank God!
"Jesus, let's get the fuck out of here!" Dr. Prickett whimpered. He sounded really scared as he watched the distant headlights coming closer and closer. "It's Priscilla's strongmen, I just know it!" he said, grabbing Melanie's hand and running to the parked limousine. They dove inside like panic-stricken bunnies.
In spite of the approaching danger, curiosity got the best of me. I just had to take one last look at good old Frieda before leaving her forever. Straining to see in the moonlight, I bent over close to our snoring enemy. My eyes moved up to the sign she was leaning against. I let out a huge guffaw, got up, and with one strong leap, landed in the front seat of the Rolls next to Melanie. We zoomed away, tires shrieking. Dr. Prickett and Melanie, both nervous as cats, looked annoyed at my hilarity as we sped down the freeway to freedom.
"What' so damn funny?" Dr. Prickett asked, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
"That sign Frieda crashed into! Far out!" I gasped, still doubled up with laughter.
"What did it say, for God's sake?" Melanie asked, a little irritated at my private joke.
"No dumping!" I screamed in delight.
That seemed to break the tension. We sped away from the scene of our escapade, chortling and giggling like kids after a Halloween prank.
CHAPTER NINE
Slowly I opened my eyes from a peaceful snooze to face a drooling, auburn hedged vagina, upside down, only inches from my nose. The odor of sweat and musky come filled my nostrils. Two alabaster thighs, wrapped around my face, exuded waves of warmth through my cheeks. Down below between my pulsing loins, I could feel a hot, moist mouth enveloping my solid boner, its caressing suction sending flashes of pleasure through my stretched out torso.
Dreamily, I recalled how Melanie and I, just hours before, had gone fuck crazy celebrating our triumphant return to our very own Anytime Modeling Agency with an all-out, no-holds-barred sin session on the familiar dilapidated couch. Then as a final nightcap, we had relaxed in a classic "69" position, and gone absolutely berserk in a never-to-be-forgotten twin eat-out before drinking ourselves into an exhausted sleep.
Now it was morning and I was hungry again. Drawing Melanie closer, I gently ran my hand over my seductive teammate's rounded hips and full white thighs. Pressing my nose into the sticky luxuriant pubic growth, I began wetting the tender crease of flesh with my stiff and spirited tongue, slurping up the delicate flavors of her previous shoot-out. I lashed out snake-like with a frenzy amounting almost to madness and groaned like a savage animal, breath quickening and heart pounding.
I heard Melanie sigh as she awakened, trembling under the fiery impact of my titillating, searing kisses. Joining in the action, she raised her free leg past my bobbing head, leaving her thighs slightly parted and her dark dampness open like an orchid. With lips closed around the smooth mound, my tongue explored her inner depths, greedily sucking and nibbling her clit with increasing vigor. I smiled to myself as Melanie, shuddering gently, offered her pinkish slit to me without reservation.
As my part of our duo blowjob, I thrust my hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine, driving my stiff maleness into the searing channel of her willing mouth. I quivered and sobbed, intoxicated with the full tide of bliss that permeated every limb of my body. I flinched as Melanie's sharp fingernail probed between the cleft of my firm butt, piercing the secret recesses of my ass to the knuckle. With abandon, I savored the feverish jolts of pleasure now leaping from anus to scrotum. Not to be surpassed by my overheated sidekick, I ran my hand over the neat, soft curve of Melanie's velvety rear end, wedging my middle finger between the soft cheeks of her fanny, and began to excite her further with the full length of my diddling invader.
I felt the muscles tensing throughout my body, as our stroke for stroke togetherness increased in intensity and speed. I pulled at her hips avidly, and Melanie shivered, as her pelvis rotated urgently, round and round. My extended tongue speared past the swelling folds of her outer lips, hunting the hidden cave of her sex sheath and deftly inserting itself. My breath caught in my throat as I tasted the heat and moisture of her love-juiced trough. I buried my face in her, open-mouthed, sopping up her bright red innards, straining to touch the bottomless pit of that delectable womb.
Downstairs, I felt the quivering tension of Melanie's lips and mouth, filled with my glorious hugeness, twisting and weaving from side to side. I countered with furious plunges, my blonde silky covered testicles slapping hard and wetly against my lover's pounding forehead. Simultaneously, her tunneling finger stabbed deeper into my gyrating posterior, worming its way far past the mouth of my bruised rear entrance. Our bodies heaved violently as we sought our satisfaction, devouring each other's privates, hungrily, rapturously.
With clean sweeps of my tongue, I whipped up the froth inside her steaming gusher. In answer, Melanie screwed wildly with lusty jerks and jogs of her hips and bottom. I ate ravenously of the very center of her sex arena, coaxing her instrument of love until I brought on the shaking and bucking that meant the approach of her climax. Then a sudden convulsion, and her thighs oozed with excited juices that poured out of her overflooding swamp. Moaning deliriously, Melanie came in one shattering moment, wild and mean, while I chokingly sucked my reward the creamy deluge of love's labor lost, the almost strangling sweetness of her honeycomb.
I felt the hot wash of her orgasm fill my throat to overflowing like a jetting waterfall, as I moaned in rapture. Supremely delighted with myself, I concentrated on her continuing eruption, completely oblivious to everything, but the warm flood that flowed from the very door of the womanhood. Melanie seemed to be emptying herself to her very source. I swallowed, backed away, and then lunged inward again.
When her ardor finally diminished, she sobbed with relief and bit sharply down on my throbbing appendage still entrenched deep in her wide-stretched mouth.
"Let's change positions," I suggested, licking my chops voraciously. "Sit on it, honey. I like to watch it go in."
Reluctantly, Melanie allowed me to withdraw my slippery joystick, bit by bit. I laid on my back expectantly, and took a good long look at my sex kitten's treasure. Struggling to sit up, she wiped off her lips daintily, then straddled my pelvis, with knees bent alongside my ribs. Ready now for the ultimate act of bliss, Melanie parted her thighs, revealing the pink nether lips hidden between their juncture and the curly dark hair above. My famous swollen member throbbed in anticipation of the new horizons in view. Holding my moistened rapier tenderly, my sweetie-pie inserted the head of that glorious flagstaff inside her spread beaver, watching it bury itself. A soft hissing sound came from her lips as she pressed herself downward. Her auburn tressed head bent forward as she felt the mighty flesh-sword slip into the heart of her nest.
"Right on!" I choked, whimpering in sexual torment, as I slid upward, filling her completely. Considerate, but forceful, Melanie braced herself for the fun ahead. We strove to please each other completely in satisfying our sensual needs, fulfilling the holy rites of our near perfect male-female relationship. Watching her boobs jostling up and down violently, I lifted my buttocks and shoved in as far as I could go, then let out again and in again with deep moans of ecstasy. "Love it, love it, love it!" I urged crazily.
"You're still the best piece of meat in the world, lover," Melanie purred, busting her ass to meet my thrusts, blow for blow. She slammed homeward against my pelvis with every body twist she could think of. My eyes swept over the curvy sexpot's swaying orbs, soft belly, and loins running with perspiration. Her boiling young blood seemed to drive her on with ever increasing urgency. "How does it feel?" she gasped, then squeezed all the harder.
"Are you kidding?" I answered, shifting the weight of my tail and groaning gently, enjoying the tingling sensations she was inducing with her hip-swivels, boldly matching my bedroom bounce. I trembled with the excitement that swept through my frame. "No bullshitting, you're the high point in my sex life," I panted, nearly swooning. Melanie was tearing the insides out of me with her furious pounding, almost knocking the wind out of me with every gyration. Never once did we stop as we raced onward ready to burst together into a rapturous climax. "Your body is so bitchin'! " I rasped, drunk with lust.
Just then, the telephone began to ring. Startled more than scared, we stopped our action-packed screwing and stared blankly at the instrument as it jangled away on the edge of the desk next to our steaming love seat.
I let out a howl, annoyed by the untimely interruption of our sex games. "Who the hell can that be?" I spit venomously. "What a lousy time to pick to call! Nobody could possibly know we're even here except...."
"Dr. Prickett!" Melanie finished my sentence, her stranglehold on my palpitating stick squeezing like a tourniquet. "Oh, Kenny! Something must have gone wrong!" she looked at me, wide-eyed and panic-stricken.
"Who gives a fuck! We just won't answer it," I ordered, grumbling, then reached forward with my hands and opened her moist feminine charms with my fingers. Concentrating intently on what I was doing to her pretty little cave, I toyed with the tiny crimson guard, my thumbs rolling the burning flesh with quick strokes.
But the mood was hard to sustain since the ringing of the phone went on and on.
"Please, darling!" Melanie whined, looking worried. "Please, stop!" She pushed my fingers off her pulsing hot spot with a slap of her hand. "We really must answer it. It might be news about Priscilla. I just couldn't stand another hassle with that terrible sadist 'he-she.' Who knows what she's up to now?" she wailed, wringing her hands tragically.
"All right already, scaredy cat. Answer it then, damn rU" I sneered, washing my hands of the entire scene. Leaning back, I folded my burly arms behind my head and sulked. "I've had just about enough shit from that queer quack and that hard-bitten fag-in-drag. Don't forget, you guys were the ones who talked me into this whole sordid mess."
Real pro that she was, Melanie ignored my childish complaints, leaned all the way back over the edge of the couch, twisted sideways so that she could reach past the edge of the desk and grabbed the receiver without even disturbing our pleasure-giving coupling. I grit my teeth and struggled to keep from shooting as her vise-like throttle on my love-basket seemed to be touching the very nerve center of my torso. I could feel her simmering juices trickling over the inside of my throbbing thighs and further down past my loose hairy balls. No doubt about it, those boiling sex fires were building up inside me, promising to burst forth with a bigger bang than hers.
"Good morning, Anytime Modeling Agency, Miss Melanie speaking," she cooed into the telephone with a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. Struggling to sit up, she gestured toward me furiously to do the same and listen in on the conversation.
Frowning, I obeyed, but then like a naughty kid, I began playing around and hugged her to me. That smooth skin rubbing against mine and those hanging breasts of hers, pressing on my matted chest, just added fuel to the fire. I nuzzled her neck avidly, as I sucked on her earlobe and rotated her full-filled mounds wildly with both hands. Uncontrollable surges of passion orbited up my magnificent passion pole which still crammed her sheath to the hilt and held our bodies together as one. Melanie's eyes rolled in exasperation, as she tried to push me far enough away so that we could both listen to the telephone she held between our two heads.
"Melanie, me dear, it's Dr. Prickett," the voice from the other end chirped enthusiastically. "I'm sorry to disturb you two youngsters, but it's most important! I just got an urgent cast call from a prominent movie director friend of mine. He's a major studio man who's just getting into pornie productions. Mind you, not the run-of-the-mill two-bit smut sagas, but real first run full-length extravaganzas with color and sound. They're bound to break all box office records for erotic movies in 1971!" He paused for breath and waited for our reaction to this announcement.
Dirty skin flicks were the last thing I was thinking about as I glanced down at those pink knobs of flesh, so invitingly cresting the soft twin peaks, crushed between our trembling bodies and only inches away. Pushing the curvy hills upward, I bent my head down and fastened my lips over one nipple like a plunger over a plugged drain. Melanie fell back, aghast, leaning on one arm, trying to control herself as she watched me fondle the goodies I'd been eyeballing.
Dr. Prickett went on, probably a little disappointed at our silence. "Anyway I took the liberty of setting up an interview this evening for the two of you. This might be the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that could make you both stag film superstars playing young, passionate, idealistic, long-haired sex rebels. It's easy money, kids, and with the equipment nature has given you, you'd be fools not to take advantage of it. It should be one heckuva educational experience, and just think! You'll be getting paid for mixing pleasure with perversion."
"Oh, swell!" I came up gulping for air, madder than hell and yelled into the mouthpiece. "We just barely missed getting our asses into the mouthpiece. "We just barely missed getting our asses shot off by that 'strange puss' and her paid killers, and now, you're already busy pegging us to do another job equally gross filthy nude pics! Well, screw you, dad, and fuck your fun, fame, and fortune in low-down sex fantasies. We're laying low for awhile! We need our rest!" With that, I returned to balling my broad, pummeling her titties with my hands and pinching the flaming tips, while my fleshy dagger stabbed her again and again. Putting all of myself into a five star performance, my growing desires rapidly spread as I tunneled away like a man possessed. Melanie purred in sensual contentment, trying not to lose control.
"For a guy hung like a horse, you sure lack balls!" Dr. Prickett scolded, sounding hurt. "How can you miss? You're calling the shots now, and this promises to be a really fantastic deal! If you kids play your sheets right, you can't help but become smash film successes. Why, you're certain to build up a following, and from then on, it's easy street. So come on! Be reasonable, my boy. Remember, people forget very fast. You're only as good as your last gig."
A wide smile of comprehension spread over Melanie's face, as she thought this over. "Listen sweetie, maybe he's got something," she murmured sexily. "It sounds like a trippy idea to me. I mean, for us to be nudie superstars with worldwide publicity and all that show-biz stuff. Pretty please, honey, don't be an old fuddy-duddy! We've always had the glamor, and not much know-how, but no it's gonna be different. We have lots going for us and our names are already big thanks to 'sewer mouth' Priscilla's undercover imagine thigh work. Besides, it's really not much fun being out of work," she reminded me, blinking her thickly lashed green eyes innocently.
"Kee-rist! Pardon me for breathing!" I yelled resentfully. "I hope you both won't be too upset if I cut in on this meeting of the minds, but a freaky thought just happened to occur to me. like, whatever became of that 'priceless' tin box full of 'damaging evidence'? I mean, knowing how rotten and evil as well as smart and cunning Priscilla is, how is that 'evidence' going to prevent her from sending her goon squad after us? Man, once they catch us, our international movie careers won't be worth a plugged nickel."
Dr. Prickett at the other end of the line cleared his throat, chuckled, and answered reassuringly. "Now, now, don't worry your two pretty pin heads over that. Consuela I mean, Mrs. Rigsby, our guardian angel, has the box and its precious contents securely locked in her private safe deposit box. If anything should happen to any one of us, the district attorney has explicit instructions to open the container and proceed with a legal prosecution of Priscilla's illegal sexploitation hanky-panky. My son, there's enough in those papers to keep that black-hearted bitch in the clink till we're all old and gray. So you see, we're in the clear, and for now, the sky's the limit!" he bragged triumphantly.
"Oh, Dr. Prickett, you're really something else, you know that?" Melanie burbled happily, swaying her treasure chest in rhythm with her raging downstrokes. "Now that everything's settled, let's stop farting around and get grooving on this big nudie star trip."
"Spoken like a real pro! I have always admired your spirit, my child," Prickett complimented her. "After all, we didn't make the rotten world we live in, so what's wrong with earning piles of money, being the center of a million pairs of eyes, and getting mobbed and kissed by half-crazy teeny boppers? Heaven knows, sex is here to stay, and we might as well share in the good times while we're still young enough to enjoy them."
"You're blowing my mind, doc," Melanie squealed enthusiastically, as she wiggled up and down in pure joy. Her renewed action left my soaking saber throbbing and aching for more.
"That settles it then!" Dr. Prickett concluded. "Consuela my dear and only love is right here at my side witnessing this evening's interview. Tomorrow, bright and early, I'll be shopping around for the proper vehicles to display your sexual prowess. It certainly looks like a new and exciting future for both of you, so get a good rest while you can, and lots of luck in the future! I'll phone back soon. Oh, by the way," he giggled, "Consuela sends her greetings and says, 'Just dial 'L' for lust!' "
There was a hasty click at the other end of the line. Melanie leaned backward, bending her slim body until she just managed to place the receiver properly on the phone base. An ecstatic smile glowed on her pretty face.
I growled like a beast as the tightness of her lovelock acted like a sex prod, impelling me to lean forward toward my partner's creamy bosom. I squeezed her ample globes with rough fingers, and massaged the nipples till they stood up hard and firm. Then I moved my head toward her slim waist and rounded belly, exploring the deep mystery of her navel with my probing tongue. She was really hot again, far out of her mind, straining her well-shaped derriere upwards to make herself even more exposed and inviting. As unrestrainable as a lioness in heat, she rolled her eyes, ran her hands up and down my muscle-bound arms, and manipulated her thighs crazily, squishing my rampaging piston, and begging with every fibre of her body for one more final super-grand ail-American orgiastic climax!
Trying to suppress the shudders that racked her torso, Melanie finally managed to sit up. I let go of her bountiful tits, but smiled happily as her new position forced my tubular pride and joy to penetrate her warmth even deeper. With her legs wide apart, she was able to take all my gratifying length with ease. "Savage!" she cried, pressing her lips against mine, kissing me open-mouthed and hard tongued. With our bodies locked in maniacal abandon, we clung to each other, striving and searching for new ways to heighten our prolonged sexual bout. "Shoot in me, darling shoot!" my sin mate begged, her eyes glazed and unseeing, her nails cutting long welts down my back, and her frame molded against mine in a passion of welcome.
"O-o-o-oh, yeah! I can't hold back much longer," I swooned, falling back on the cushions, holding her tightly against my chest and belly. We lay there in a clinch, face to face, body to body, my hands locked together across her lower back, her slender arms wrapped around my neck. I was lost to the world, and all I wanted to do now was cornel My sexed-up kitten's breath was heavier, sounding harsh in my ear as my searing rod, strong and straight, punched upward high into her essence in final proof of my manly strength. "I'm coming home, babe," I promised, arching so that my pelvis met hers with sledge hammer force, again and again.
Pumping potently, feeding it into her, deep and slick in a reckless delirium, I barely noticed as Melanie froze in an almost motionless orgasm. Joyous whimpers rose from her mouth and grew into full throated cries of bliss, as my drilling reached the ultimate in intensity at the very moment she blew her wad. The second time around, her love nest drooled and flowed with juice like a split wine barrel. Heaving and shaking, she thrashed around, her hips went into orbit, and her throat gave out the weirdest sounds. I marveled at the way her genital muscles contracted and sucked my nine incher far within her deluged pool like a vacuum cleaner, sending me into even wilder sexual frenzy. The feeling was fucking incredible, man!
Short of breath, my heart beating at an unbelievable rate, I let out a piercing bellow that shook the office, as I finally came in a quick, turbulent storm of quivering thighs, spilling forth my hot cargo in a good old, full-bodied ejaculation. Growling and snarling like a hungry beast in search of prey, I gave it to her hard and long, as our lovemaking brought me to my supreme-triumph total sexual satisfaction transporting me into pure, unthinking sweetness. My hips were thrusting involuntarily, wanting more, as giant electric charges passed through my being, spurring me on to greater passion. Melanie churned her pelvis, dredging the streaming seed out of me, as our fluids mingled freely with each other in our long, drawn out eruption. Wide-eyed and panting, we lay crushed together, feverishly linked in our love embrace, gasping with exertions.
"I'm totally wiped out," I laughed, hating to admit the approaching end of our waning desires, but really all petered out from our fiery love-in.
The sweat from our bellies joined and ran down our legs, while Melanie rubbed her slippery knockers, solid and milky soft, across my furry-damp bare chest. "You sure turn a mean trick, baby doll," I complimented her affectionately, running my hands over her velvet skinned bottom. I reveled in the round, plump cheeks of her ass, stroking, caressing, and pinching them gently. "There's nobody makes me as happy as you do, sweetheart."
"Yeah, why do our ballings always seem so special?" she whispered hoarsely, as I felt her hot and sweet breath on my cheek. She sighed with pleasure and ran her hands over our thighs, still drenched with sticky fluid. "Gosh, was that ever a good fuck! It gets better all the time, ya' know?" she giggled, tightening the grip of her naked legs around my discharged weapon still buried in the center of her slushy bearded cunt.
Stretched out like a contented tomcat, I let go of her tender baby pink body slowly, fuck-happy-relaxed, and lay back, inert. We remained that way for a few minutes in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs, catching our breaths, my nuts still jetting sporadic spurts of warm jizz, the streaming overload running down onto the cushions, forming a thick puddle.
"Oooooh, I'm beginning to dig it already!" Melanie's voice suddenly interrupted my reverie. "Can't you see our naked assets jiggling across a movie screen the size of a football field? I mean, I bet there'll be a couple of major studios dangling fabulous million dollar pictures in front of our faces in no time! Who knows, we might even become king and queen of those hard-core dirty screw films! Why, I can see it all now from rags to nudies riches. . . "
I stopped listening to her little girl babblings, as my mind wandered back to the out-of-sight passionate night we had gone through and the sex-filled morning workout just finished. I yawned and lay very still, half asleep, my face buried in my love mate's soft, long hair. Stirring slightly, I groaned contentedly, then sank slowly into deep slumber. "Movieland, here we come!" I thought to myself. "But first, a growing boy like me needs his beauty rest."
