"Kept Youth" is one of the "avante garde" novels published in the late fifties dealing with life in the rural midwest but unfortunately it was almost immediately suppressed. Now however, the constant battle for free expression has been won: the freedom to write, read and think about life the way that it truly is, not the way one thinks it should be.
Harold Flemming, author of this realistic novel, has vividly portrayed the sheer boredom that infiltrates and stifles the lives of many successful men's wives in "small town" America today. George Hammond, the youthful main character of this story willingly acts as a buffer between the women with whom he comes in contact, and the element of "loneliness" that is always lurking in the shadows.
Essentially this is the story of a youth who has temptation thrust upon him at an early age, temptation that would free him of his overworked life on a grubby farm; free him of the inhuman overseeing of a sadistic father. The reader may not agree with, but he certainly must sympathize with his choice when confronted with the two alternatives.
The arrival of a lovely nurse to tend to George's invalid mother initiates the string of events that leads him to the life of a "kept youth." We, in contemporary America tend to accept the fact that successful men, bored with their wives, anxious to re-establish their virility seek the sexual company of other women. However, when the reverse is true, the old idea of the "double standard" comes into effect.
In actuality, Harold Flemming's novel is more timely today than it was when it first went to print fifteen years ago and in this sense it is fortunate that it was suppressed. Today is a mushrooming period of social and economic freedom for members of the female gender. Old shackles have been cast aside and it is obvious to all that they possess the same desires and the same weakness of flesh as we males.
Why should it be so terrible then that socialite Dorothy Wainright visit George Hammond in his room over her garage, while her husband visits a call girl in Chicago? Why then should her daughter, Dorothy, not visit him too, while her son visits a "town girl" in the sanctity of her bedroom. Reason tells you that there is no difference, but tradition tells you there is. We feel that Harold Flemming shows vividly in this novel how these ancient barriers are being torn down, stone by stone.
Mr. Flemming's vignette of George's meeting with a neurotic woman who works at the town's cleaners is, we feel, the high spot in the book. He shows that beneath the layers of degradation there is a layer of sound moral fiber that comes to the fore just when one feels he is about to sink into the deepest pit of depravity.
His experience with sloppy Frieda of "Frieda's Diner" illustrates how important visual reaction is to the male psyche. His intense feelings of disgust and loathing turn to just as intense feelings of desire and craving with her simple application of make-up, a foundation garment and a stylish gown.
Without exception, the society matrons that George becomes involved with treat him on the face of it more like he were their child than their lover. His unequalled physical attributes, the true reason for their interest in him, is never commented on, never discussed. The significance of this is that in their own minds they were attempting to soften the blows to their consciences. By rationalizing with themselves this way they maintained a rather shaky position on the moralistic pedestals they had placed themselves upon.
His involvement with Mrs. Wainright's daughter Dorothy might have led George out of the sexual morass that he had so easily submitted to, but unfortunately it was so short lived that it had no lasting effect on him.
George sinks to his lowest level at the nightly "bridge games" held at Frieda's, alias Helen Vanarsdale's, home. Mr. Flemming shows strikingly to what depths the golfing and call-girl widows can sink in their incessant search for relief from their boredom.
Finally his most psyche-shattering experience occurs as he makes a feeble attempt to get relief from his life of debauchery. His meeting with the genteel, aristocratic movie queen Elizabeth Conway snuffs out the last glimmer of respect that he has for women in general, as she turns out to be the most debased of all.
Some critics who read this novel on its initial publication felt that George's easy submission to the life of a "kept youth" indicated an innate flaw in his moral fiber that made him a poor subject to weave a manuscript around. However who of us can say that given the same alternatives to choose from, that he would have chosen the harder path? And if he did, most certainly the story that followed wouldn't be nearly as interesting as the one you are about to read.
CHAPTER ONE
The day that big, blonde and buxom Olga arrived to take care of George Hammond's mother, his sex education began. George was just seventeen, of average height for his age, but powerfully built, with wide, sloping shoulders, the arms of a blacksmith and a beautifully developed torso that resembled a Roman breastplate.
George and his father couldn't suppress a gasp as the blonde goddess swung through the doorway to the old farmhouse in a business like way, as though she were fully prepared to take over the entire household. Her massive breasts swung back and forth deliciously under the drum-tight, starched white uniform that she wore. She was big and meaty, but in a completely feminine way, with her great soft curves quivering like a gelatinous mass as she pranced in on her stiletto heels.
Being only seventeen, George couldn't understand why she was wearing gossamer black hose that admittedly contrasted delightfully with her white uniform. She wiggled her great, ham-like buttocks into a chair opposite George's father, completely ignoring George and proceeded to cross one shapely silken limb over the other, as George heard for the first time the wondrous feminine sound of nylon whispering across nylon, permitting her tight skirt to ride high on a sheer black thigh.
As she swung the crossed leg back and forth, she made a ritual out of taking a pack of cigarettes from her purse and as she drew a cigarette from the pack George noticed that her long, slender fingers were tipped with talon-like, carmine-tinted nails. She pursed her passionate, bee-stung lips into a suggestive O and hesitated a full four or five seconds, licking the lips with a pink tongue before finally inserting the cigarette. She worked her heavily lipstick coated lips on the white cigarette much the way a fish does when he comes to the surface for air, until George's confused father finally leaped to his feet and with shaking fingers struck a match for her. As she held both hands over his to steady the flame, George noted that his father was staring down into her vast cleavage.
Unfortunately that was all George was to see of Olga for some time because his father sent him to the barn to tend to his chores. George's youthful mind was filled with visions of huge breasts, black silken legs, long, flowing platinum hair and full-passionate red lips. As he grasped the first cow's nipples he closed his eyes and made believe that they were Olga's and the great udder was her breast because they were approximately the same size.
George saw her briefly again at dinner, but when this was finished his father once again sent him away, this time to bed. But he couldn't sleep as he tossed and turned in his bed, his virile boyhood standing at attention beneath the sheets. Finally after several frustrating hours, George heard her heels clicking on the old wooden stairs. Then George had a brainstorm, the porch roof connected his bedroom window and the window to the room that she was going to occupy ... it was dangerous but he just had to see more of this wondrous female. He climbed out onto the porch roof, naked except for his brief jockey shorts that gave evidence of the extent of his erection. He crept stealthily along till he reached her window and peeked into the dimly lit room. What he saw inside almost caused him to fall off of the roof.
She wasn't alone; George's father was with her and he already had her immense orbs out of her uniform. He had buried his leathery farmer's face deep in the valley between, so that George couldn't see much more than his ears. Every once in a while he would come up for air and alternately suck one big nipple then the other. His bony hands were literally tearing at the giant melons, but the obvious pain only seemed to arouse her.
"Oh that's WONDERFUL Mr. Hammond ... squeeze them harder, it doesn't hurt ... they love it. You love Olga's big breasts don't you, lover? ... well, they love you, too."
George thought that he was going to tear them loose from her rib-cage as he ripped at them with extreme violence. He noticed for the first time that she was busily engaged in pulling on a very long pair of shiny black kid gloves; what for George could hardly imagine, as it was a hot summer's night. She took a long time with the gloves, smoothing out the wrinkles and avidly working her fingers into their tight prison of tissue-thin kid, all the while permitting him to have his way with her swollen orbs.
He began to unbutton the long row of buttons on her uniform till finally it flowed away from her body like a white cape and George quickly placed his hand over his mouth to suppress a gasp. The only thing she had on under the uniform was a sexy black lace waist cincher that was partially overlapped by her immense melons. Numerous black straps, embellished with red satin bows, hung down from the waist cincher, tracing a tortuous course down over her soft white stomach with its deep-set navel, then out over her bowl-like hips to be anchored to the jet black elastic tops of her stockings. The inner straps served to frame a dense, platinum bush that George's father was eagerly massaging with the tips of his fingers.
All in all this was quite a sight for George's innocent eyes to behold. Up until then he had only shown interest in slender girls with average sized breasts and rears. But now as he stared at this magnificent female towering over his father, her great melons sliding around on her rib-cage; beneath them a ridiculously tiny, nipped in waist that flared out into wide, luscious hips, he realized that he had been a childish fool.
He loved the way her shimmering black nylons were drawn almost to the bursting point by the taut garter straps, with soft creamy flesh billowing over their tops. She had a massive, blonde nest at her crotch and the wet lips of her cunt centered there gaped as though searching eagerly for a fat cock.
George's father's mobile hands didn't seem to know where to go next, she had so many goodies worth playing with. They wandered over her soft thighs, lingering on the inky blackness of her sheer hose apparently thrilling to the sensation of the smooth nylon on his gnarled fingers. He slid one big hand up and grabbed a handful of crotch, dipping a long finger into the mouth-like cunt and working it vigorously back and forth.
Olga moaned and hastily finished the task of adjusting her long kid gloves. She reached down and began to unbutton his dungarees where a great lump was evident. Quickly, with the expertness born of long practice, the buttons were undone and she reached inside to haul out his father's tremendous prong. The shaft wasn't so long, but tremendously fat, capped by a monstrous, rubbery head that was partially capped. Slowly she pulled the foreskin back until it slipped over the raised ridge and the whole scarlet head was revealed.
Out on the slanted roof, George was quietly going out of his mind at the sensual activities he was witnessing. He slid a hand under the edge of his jockey shorts and grasped his own rampant cock and began to jerk it hard. His father's face and hands were almost black from the sun, but his cock looked incredibly white against the blackness of her gloves as she led him by it across the room to the bed.
This sexy bit of action gave George an exciting view from his vantage spot on the roof of her great, white buttocks grinding together like twin hams with the little mincing steps she was forced to take in her sky-high stiletto heels. The long black garter straps extended and contracted as they cut into the twin half-moon's softness. The rear view of her dusky nylons was equally exciting, their dark seams tracing the curvaceous contours of her long legs. George's hand increased the tempo of its jerking.
Olga had George's father sit on the edge of the bed. She kneeled between his wide-spread legs, hoisting her giant orbs as she did so. She parted them and leaned forward till to Gorge's utter consternation, his father's fat cock, looking like a petrified tree stump, slid into the valley between as though it were made for the purpose. Then she jammed them together, enclosing his throbbing prong in a veritable prison of soft, white flesh.
Due to the extremely hot night the window was open and George could hear her clearly as she moaned, "I know you love Olga's big titties, baby, by the way your gorgeous cock gets hard in your pants every time you look their way ... well they love your big cock too and they want to prove it to you in the worst way ... or perhaps I should say the BEST way ... now lover just relax ... that is everything but your cock."
With these obscene words Olga began a gentle swaying back and forth motion with her hands still pressing her great melons together, his swollen prick still held securely inside.
"There, lover man ... do you like the feel of my big bubs on your dick? ... I'm fucking you with them ... now I'll go a bit faster ... faster still ... oh, look at that, with each thrust your big knob keeps popping out of my cleavage ... it's so slippery now ... ready for action ... ready to FUCK your adoring Olga's pretty pussy ... would you mind if I sucked your adorable big cock first? ... it looks SO-O-O delicious ... m-m-m-m-m-m."
George watched transfixed as her rapier-like tongue darted out to lave the big red head till it shone wetly as it emerged from her shadowy cleavage only to submerge once again into the vast softness of her bosom. Then, to George's consternation and his father's too, she didn't make the expected move forward; she merely stayed back on her silken haunches, content to have him held securely in her bosom.
"Criminettis gal, don't ya stop now," Mr. Hammond wailed, thrusting his bony hips upward in a futile attempt to force his rampant prick through.
"Oh, you liked that, lover, did you?" she cooed, rubbing her great melons together vigorously, the resultant friction making him groan. "I haven't had a chance to talk to you about my salary ... there are lots of pretty little underthings that I want to buy to excite you ... but I'm afraid that it's impossible on the money we agreed on ... now if I only had twenty dollars more a week, I could drive you out of your ever lovin' ... "
"SURE ... SURE," he moaned and it was obvious that Olga had selected the precise moment to mention salary. "Just take him in your mouth, I'm goin' out of my mind."
Now she moved forward with a smile of triumph on her face and this time as he popped free of her cleavage she grasped him tenaciously in a kid encased fist. As her hand began to move, George could see that the glove was beginning to shine brightly from his passion.
Her lips, a scant inch from his swollen cock, cooed to him, "That's it, precious, grow bigger for your baby ... oh, it's lovely, beautiful ... I just can't wait to get that big baby in my mouth. I can tell that you love the sensation of my glamorous kid gloves on him ... I knew you would, that's why I put them on. Do you like the way my fingers are rubbing the ridge. I can't wait to lick and chew his underside, I know he's most sensitive there."
Out on the roof George felt a tremendous sensation building up in his loins as he saw that Olga had teased his father long enough for now her frantic lips were devouring him, her head bobbing frantically.
Then without any warning the wizened farmer groaned and his hips thrust forward, it was obvious that his dam had overflowed from the erotic stimulation.
"Why you old bastard," Olga screamed. "I didn't want that to happen, why didn't you warn me ... you've GOT to take care of me, you simply HAVE to."
But the old farmer was through for the night as he twisted from her grasp and staggered from the room, his limp cock flapping about, sperm dripping from the head. Then the thought occurred to George that his father might look in on him before retiring for the night, but in his haste to return to his room he slipped on the steep porch roof and with a loud clatter he slid down over the shingles, fortunately catching his feet in the wooden gutter.
"Who is out there?" Olga exclaimed and George could hear her stilt heels clicking on the old wide floorboards as she came to the window.
George looked upward and saw her leaning out of the window in what ordinarily would have been a very provocative pose, her enormous naked melons hanging pendant-like over the window sill, her lovely lavender eyes wide open as she stared at him in disbelief. George made quite a picture lying there on his back in the bright moonlight, naked except for his jockey shorts which were filled to overbrimming with his elongated penis. The thin cotton material was stretched taut, indicating clearly that he was half again the size of his father.
"Sonny," she exclaimed. "What in the world are you doing out there? Come in here this instant before you break your heck ... or break your ... well, never mind about that, just come in here."
She reached down with a gloved arm and hooked it under one of his and she hoisted him up the roof and through the window as though he were a baby. With the effort a burning hot breast was pressed against his cheek for a moment, then once he was safely inside she turned on her stilt heels and once again George was treated to the awe inspiring sight of big, sexy buttocks, Olga walking with her back to him as she headed towards her closet. This time however he had a much closer view as his eager eyes drank in the sight of her great buttocks grinding together as they swayed from side to side with the movement of her walk.
The thought struck George that she was walking slower than need be and that this time her broad hips were swaying much more than they had previously. Exciting highlights contoured her gossamer, black nylon encased legs and the soft white flesh that billowed over their drum-tight tops jiggled in unison with her meaty buttocks. At the base of the cleavage between them, the silver blonde floss that surrounded her cunt tickled her thighs.
As she disappeared into the closet George realized for the first time that he was soaking wet. He had been so absorbed in what he had seen from the roof that he hadn't realized that it had begun to rain.
Then she emerged from the closet clad in a filmy transparent negligee, which seemed to reveal more than it concealed of her fantastic pulchritude. Her watermelon sized breasts jounced up and down with the movement of her steps and there was an audible slapping sound as they struck her rib-cage. The long flowing negligee had no sleeves so that her kid-gloved arms were unencumbered. The pink lips of her cunt seemed to be moving, as though whispering an invitation.
"Well, child," she said with a trace of a smile curving the tips of her full, scarlet lips upward, "I see that your ... er ... condition shall we say, hasn't changed since you were on the roof. 'Pears to me that I struck a bonanza when I came to work here ... and in Idaho of all places. Well, they say that they grow them bigger out West ... but good heavens, you're soaking wet ... we'll have to get you out of those sexy little shorts or you'll catch your death."
"No, Miss Olga," George stammered, still excited beyond belief, his cock threatening to explode right through the flimsy cotton shorts, but also fearful of discovery, fearful of his father who on occasion had given him terrible hidings, hidings that had left the skin hanging from his back. "My father might check my room. If he found me in here he'd beat me something fierce."
"Oh, he beats you does he?" Olga whispered excitedly, her eyes gleaming. "Perhaps I should beat you a little, after all you were a terribly naughty boy to peek at me the way you did? And he's naughty too ... just look at the SIZE of him."
As she spoke, Olga drew closer, towering over him, her great molescent mounds of alabaster white flesh dangling at his eye level like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from the bough. She slid a soft gloved hand down his wet back and slipped it under the taut elastic edge to his shorts and cupped a hard, boyish buttock, then pinching the flesh hard between her gloved fingers.
"There, that hurts a bit doesn't it? ... but really, isn't it a nice hurt?"
"Y-yes."
As she pinched she worked the shorts down deftly with the other hand and like a released sapling that had been tied down as a snare for small animals, his monstrous cock sprang into the air, but her attentions were centered on his buttocks as she began to strike him smartly with her gloved hand.
George's body was bronzed to a golden hue by the summer sun, leaving only a thin white strip where his swimming shorts had been. Now as she struck him unmercifully, the white patch was changing to a rosy hue, then a fiery red. With her exertion her giant orbs flopped about wildly directly before George's eyes and he had all he could do to resist the temptation of grasping these twin beauties in his hands and latching his eager lips on one of the swollen nipples that stood up like twin sentinels on a mountain top.
Finally she ceased her spanking and then her gloved hands were on his shoulders and chest, massaging and kneading his muscular torso.
"Good gracious, but you are powerfully built ... in every way, for a small boy," she said with a smile as her kid encased fingers traced a tortuous path, expertly following each muscle as only a nurse well versed in anatomy could, working ever downward, now on the finely etched stomach muscles that rippled with excitement at the sensation created by her caressing fingers combined with the exquisite soft kid.
"I'll have to do this to every inch of you, darling," she cooed, as she continued the thrilling massage, "or you'll surely catch a terrible cold."
George noticed her lower her heavily mascaraed lashes and stare at his rampant cudgel, fluid flowing freely now from the great red head and her huge melons began to heave as her breathing increased. Her fingers now were ensnared in the curly black hairs on his lower abdomen and George ceased to breathe.
"Baby ... remember Olga said EVERY inch of you and that includes ... well, you know what I mean ... but before I do you must promise me that you'll never tell your mother and father about it, they wouldn't understand that I did it purely as a nurse trying to keep someone very precious from catching a terrible cold ... do you promise?"
"You mean you're going to rub me THERE?" George gasped, twisting his reddened rear about at the mere thought, his cock growing even more, the veins standing out cord-like. "Nobody has ever touched me there, Miss Olga ... he's very sensitive; once I was hit there by a baseball and I thought that I was going to die."
"Oh, you darling, innocent child, let me hold you close and let Olga's softness get you all toasty warm while I talk to you," she exclaimed, releasing the sash to her negligee so that it flowed away from her mountainous curves and drawing him to her as she wrapped her gloved arms around his naked back. The great mounds flattened against his rock-hard chest, forcing them upward so that his chin was completely lost in her deep cleavage, the heady aroma of her exciting perfume firing his soul. "As time goes on child, you will find that many girls will want to touch you there, we'll refer to it as your cock, shall we? But you have to be very careful, for once they do both of you will get very excited and you might do something foolish ... that's the way men become fathers you know."
"Y-yes ... my father told me and he said he'd take a horsewhip to me if I ever did."
"That's a bit extreme but it gives you an idea of how careful you must be ... if you'll just keep in mind, precious, that I'm old enough to be your mother and that I am merely trying to keep you from having a nasty cold and also giving you a little experience so that when you finally fall in love you won't be completely in the dark as to what to do," Olga whispered huskily into his ear as she pressed him so deeply into her softness that he was almost enveloped by her curves.
George stood in complete submission as he felt her insert her gloved arms between their bodies and he had the delicious feeling of her kid encased fingers snaking their way around him and grasping his long, thick prick in her gloved fingers, squeezing, testing its steel-like hardness, hefting, gasping at the sheer weight of it.
"Good gracious, child, what a state you're in ... he's so HUGE ... was it what you saw me doing to your father that made you like this?" She gasped as her hands began a gentle back and forth motion, moving easily, still saturated from her earlier session with George's father.
"Did you get excited when you saw me lick and kiss his cock?"
"N-no ... that had something to do with it, I guess, but it was mainly the sight of you ... all naked, except for your shiny black stockings and high heels ... and your big breasts ... I ... I was so excited that I had to touch myself."
"Oh, you shouldn't do that, precious ... you won't have to as long as I'm working here, darling-g," she cooed, gluing her luscious, bee-stung lips to his in their first kiss, her hands working harder now. She inched along towards the bed, taking him with her as George captured a great nipple in his mouth, grasping the soft flesh that surrounded it in his hands and squeezing hard as though he was attempting to force the entire breast down his throat.
"Ou-u-u, that's delightful, darling ... Olga loves that, but now I want you to lie on your back in the middle of the bed ... I have a special treat for you, baby," she groaned, breaking the lingering kiss and forcing him back onto the bed. George lay in the deep softness of the feather bed, his prong like a red tipped missile on its launching pad of black tendrils.
"Spread your legs a bit, baby," she said as she got on her silken knees on the bed, bending forward, her great melons plummeting downward, swaying back and forth.
As he splayed his muscular legs Olga crawled between them and lay on her stomach, her head facing the length of his torso. She reached up with both hands and gingerly took him in her gloved fingers, whispering words of endearment to his proud cock as though it were a separate being apart from himself.
"There ... is my proud beauty feeling better now? ... have my hands warmed him enough? ... good heavens you've completely soaked my gloves, but I don't mind, it serves to make my hands slide up and down easier like this ... see ... I can plainly tell you like it because you're growing even bigger ... beyond my wildest dreams ... how men will envy you ... how women will go out of their minds over you ... all of that lies ahead of you, you lucky boy ... but first you must learn and to think that I have the delightful task of teaching you delicious ways to suck and fuck ... I know you must have wondered why I kissed your father here ... m-m-m-m, you taste sweeter than he did, it's the purity of youth. I didn't suck him, but I will you ... stop wiggling around so or I'll lose him ... there I told you so ... now he's mine again ... m-m-m-m ... oh, how he throbs ... but I'm not going to make the same mistake that I made with your sexy father ... it'll be a delicious long, slow suck, my sweet baby boy ... one that you'll never forget, I can assure you. No matter how many women suck your monstrous cock in the future the one that will stand out in your memory, the way your darling cock is standing out now, is the many and I can assure you there will be many sucking sessions we will have together. I will show you that women like to be sucked there too, even crave it, but that I will teach you later, lover, now just relax, everything but your cock, that is," she giggled. "And just lay back and watch me."
All the time that she was babbling on with her sexy talk, Olga was working on George's giant shaft with her gloved hands, jerking steadily, slowly, watching in utter amazement as the ripe head grew to the size of a full grown apple. She tilted his cock upward and leaned forward, running her pouting, full lips along nature's joint that ran upward on the underside of his balls to the tiny bunch of tendons that held his foreskin in place.
Olga wiggled the tip of her pointed tongue into the heart shaped cleft known to some as lover's valley on the underside of his gleaming, oily head. She nipped the sloping sides with her sharp teeth and he moaned from the delicious pleasure-pain.
"Oh, MISS OLGA," George exclaimed, twisting wildly about on the sheets in a vain attempt to jam his throbbing cock between her nibbling lips. "Take him ... PLEASE take him in your mouth, I'm going crazy."
"If you think you're crazy now, baby ... just wait," she whispered softly as she traced a swollen vein down the full length of his breathtaking shaft with her tongue. Olga had a vast warehouse of sexual knowledge and she knew full well that the sight of a woman working eagerly on a man's prick with full, lipstick coated lips was almost as exciting and sensual to a man as the act itself. So she made certain that she didn't obstruct his view by holding his cock by the head as her lips left a trail of lipstick in its wake, right down to his big ball-cocks that were nestling placidly between his smooth, hairless thighs.
George moaned and tossed his head from side to side on the pillow, his eyes never leaving her avidly working lips, as she spread his legs wide and wiggled her chin between his ball's cleavage. She sucked an egg-shaped gland into the steaming confines of her eager mouth, wetting its thoroughly with her saliva, then tracing its hair-flecked contour with her tongue.
She held it firmly, yet gently, as though she were cupping a wounded bird in her palms. Olga loved doing this for a man. It was the knowledge that he would so willingly place the source of his manhood in such a position that with just one nip he would be a man no longer. What greater trust could a man show, unless it's when he permits his barber to shave the hairs from his throat with a straight edged razor.
As she sucked lovingly on the captured ball, she pressed the heels of her palms and fingertips together forming a mock cunt and slid them down his shaft. Amazingly his cock had sheathed itself with nature's protection, but this simple action uncapped the swollen gland once again, as it popped out of the foreskin, brilliantly vermilion and oily.
She began to move her hands up and down, her gloved fingers literally saturated with his passion now, played a symphony on his tool that would have done justice to a concert violinist, as she pressed his soft ball against the roof of her mouth with a curling tongue.
"M-m-m-m, baby, did you know that you're delicious down here?" she gurgled through the side of her well stuffed mouth. "Not many men are, that's the shame of it ... I suppose it's your youth ... do you like having me suck on your ball this way? ... I hope so because I adore to."
"Oh YES-S, Miss Olga," George groaned. "But PLEASE suck the head too, I feel as though it's about to explode."
"All in good time, my precious ... but first I mustn't play any favorites, I can feel his twin quivering with anxiety against my cheek," Olga murmured as she released the saturated gland from her mouth with a resultant plopping sound. Quickly she gobbled up the other and repeated the delightful process. She lowered one gloved hand from his tool and proceeded to squeeze and massage the released ball. This them was one of Olga's favorite sexual acts; one ball in her mouth, one in her hand while the other hand worked on his cock.
She kept at it a long, long time as his buttocks writhed about on the bed in sheer ecstasy. George reached down between his wildly splayed thighs and took a great, swollen breast in each hand, his powerful fingers sinking claw-like into their pillowing softness in his excitement.
"Oh, baby ... keep that up, hurt them ... HURT them," Olga whimpered as she reluctantly let his wet ball slip from her lips. Once again she began to lick up the incredible length of his fat cock, topped by the red rose in full bloom at its top. She thrilled as she felt the swollen veins throbbing against her tongue and lips. There was a long way to go and she went with maddening slowness as she orally inspected every delightful square inch of boiling flesh.
She wet the whole steel-like body of his rampant cock, but when she approached the monstrous vermilion head, she paused teasingly, he staring down the brawny length of his farm-hardened body.
"TAKE IT ... PLEASE take it now, Miss Olga," George screamed as he thrust his slender hips upward, his great waving prong skewering the air.
"Oh, aren't you the impatient one, though," she giggled, knowing full well that this amazing hunk of boyhood was completely under her power.
But she didn't take him; instead she took the foreskin bunched below the raised lower ridge of his head in her teeth and gently tugged it upward, capping the ripe, red plum once again. "Don't you think we ought to put him to bed now, it's getting terribly late," she teased.
"OH NO-NO-NO," he wailed as he grabbed the back of her head in his big hands and attempted to jam her lips down over the satiny knob.
"Never try to do that again," she snapped, as she yanked her head free, looking at him fiercely. "We'll do it my way or no way at all, understand?"
"YES-YES," he wailed. "Do it your way, but for God's sake DO it."
She gripped his shaft once again with her gloved hands like a baseball player gripping a bat, its thickness amazing her as her long fingers couldn't completely encircle it. Her lips hung over the huge head, parted into a wide O, a scant inch from her throbbing target.
George jammed his hips upward and she teasingly drew back, gripping his fat cock with tremendous strength.
"Oh NO ... you'll BREAK him," he screamed, as an agonizing pain seared his loins.
"I'm afraid that's one thing I can't do to your luscious cock, my baby," she giggled. "You can't break him, he doesn't have any bones. At the moment he feels like he has one made of hardened steel, but he doesn't. Nature designed him to absorb tremendous punishment and come back for more, knowing full well that there would be women in the world like me."
Then, like a rattler's strike, her tongue darted into the slot, the pointed tip burrowing like a ground hog frantically entering his hole a few feet ahead of the dogs.
"Good gracious, it's like a cunt," she cried, as she wiggled the tongue in deeper. "What a man ... er, boy, you are. It's almost as though I'm having a male and female at the same time ... you certainly add a new dimension to sex."
She kept wiggling her tongue in deeper, but teasingly, carefully avoiding making any contact on the satiny surface with her pouting lips. George started to reach for her head once again, but expecting this she quickly drew back.
"Remember what you promised ... I'll get to it in my own good time, baby," she admonished.
"Yes-yes, go ahead," he said with a tone of resignation, suddenly enjoying the sensation that he was completely under the will of this dominant woman. He lowered his buttocks to the sheets and lay back in silent anticipation.
"Anyway," she giggled. "I'm not so sure that I'll be able to do what you crave so much. Your big, ripe head is so huge now I doubt if I can get him into my mouth."
"Well take as much as you can, Miss Olga, before I go nuts," he said anxiously.
She poised her widely spread lips over his great knob for a moment, like a bird about to plunge down for a worm, except that this worm was more like a gnarled tree stump. Then she swooped down and he let out a scream of anguish. Her lips, being pliable, offered no problem, but her immovable teeth did. She almost made it, but not quite. Although her mouth was open as wide as it could go, her teeth sank into the sloping sides at his thickest part.
"Sorry about that," she chuckled impishly. "But that might well solve our problem."
As Olga anticipated, George's giant cock toppled like a felled redwood, shrinking rapidly as it went. Quickly, for fear it might well rise again, she gulped his limp dick into her hot mouth and she pressed her lips into the dense, wiry mass of black hair that lay on his belly.
Her long silver-blonde locks contrasted with his black bush as she ground her chin between his balls and shook her head from side to side like a dog killing a chicken. No man, much less a growing, teenage boy, could resist such stimulation for long and she whimpered delightedly as she felt him begin to respond. The speed of his recovery was incredible, as Olga felt his savory cock expand in her mouth and begin to lengthen. As he continued to lengthen, Olga's face was pushed upward as more and more of his thick shaft slid from her clinging lips. She jerked on his emerging shaft with tenacious gloved fingers as his swelling knob puffed her cheeks taut.
Finally he was at full erection and fully three-quarters of his fat barrel could be seen below her avidly working lips. His great knob was firmly inside her steaming mouth now puffing her cheeks to the exploding point and she couldn't have released him now if she had wanted to. She fell to sucking and chewing the juicy mouthful with such a wild abandonment now that she well knew that it wouldn't be long before the geyser erupted.
Never before had Olga had such an experience. She had had many men in her lifetime, but never had she run across a cock so huge that she couldn't mouth it properly unless she first inserted it limp. The size of a man's prick was of supreme importance to Olga. She was a huge woman and her cunt matched her great size. An ordinary sized cudgel just couldn't bring her to culmination, it was just physically impossible for it to do so. She got the best results from the short but immensely thick cocks that some men have. They could turn her on by stimulating her clitoris and the entrance way to her cunt. But never had she found a man who was thick enough and long enough to give her the satisfaction that she craved.
Now here, in this mid-western town, she had found what she had sought for so long a time, in the person of a seventeen year old farm boy. As she worked her tongue and lips over the smooth, slippery contours of George's great knob, she was delirious with excitement, delirious with anticipation of what it was going to be like to have this immense, fat prong thrashing about deep inside her vagina.
But she had to be careful, they mustn't be discovered and he also mustn't discover what a supreme hold he had over her. It was imperative in her psyche that she always play the role of the dominant woman. She had a desperate craving to spank and whip this incredible boy, but that would have to come later, much later. She would have to play him the way a fisherman plays a trout with a poorly set hook ... carefully. If he ever discovered how important his giant cock was to her, he would assume the dominant role. This she knew at all costs must never happen.
As her head bobbed frantically, she felt him tense and she knew that he was about to erupt. She clung to his great, throbbing shaft with her thoroughly soiled gloved hands, not knowing quite what to expect from this amazing boy. He didn't disappoint her. His creamy life's fluid flew up the amazing length of his shaft with the speed and force of a missile leaving its underground silo. The first blast knocked her head right off his great prong, her teeth raking his rubbery knob as they left. The next blast went fully five feet in the air and splashed onto the old wide floorboards.
In the manner that George many times had steered squirting milk from a cow's udder into a milk pail, Olga grasped his fat prick just below the great vermilion gland, steering the spewing sticky come into her mouth which she held open for its eager reception.
Olga swallowed each succeeding spurt voraciously. She had to or her mouth would have overflowed and she craved every last drop.
The frantically ejaculating penis kept spewing forth its hot sperm as though it would never stop ... she HOPED it would never stop. In her lust-filled mind it was the most delicious thing ever tasted by the most fastidious of gourmets ... "If I could only bottle it!" she thought.
Finally the spurts lessened in intensity and she shortened the distance between her open mouth and the spurting red knob. When his penis throbbed out its last spurt, a thin stream of hot sticky sperm ran down his shrinking cock to mingle with the curly black hairs at its base. Olga leaned down and licked madly at the stream, following its course till her lips pressed into his matted hair and she tongued the few remaining drops.
CHAPTER TWO
"Now child I'm quite certain that you won't catch cold so you can return to your room," Olga said almost coldly as she climbed off the bed. "And don't you get any high and mighty ideas about you and me. I was merely playing the part of a nurse tending to a patient's wants, now beat it kid."
George was completely stunned. He had assumed from the violence of her emotions and the fierceness of her lovemaking that she was crazy about him; but here, immediately after the act itself, she was treating him almost disdainfully, ordering him about like a child.
"Gee, Miss Olga ... you ain't mad at me are you ... er ... after what happened I mean?" George stammered, desperate at the sudden change in her attitude.
Of course this was all part of Olga's act to keep George ignorant of what a physical bonanza he was. She didn't even answer him, merely picked up a cigarette from a pack on a table and inserted it between the same luscious pair of lips that had been so frantically working on his fevered cock just moments before. Once again George felt a stirring in his loins as he noted the delightful contrast of the milk white cigarette perched between her black kid encased fingers shining brightly from their saturation. She inhaled deeply, then blew out a cloud of smoke saying icily, "Child, you were suffering from overexposure and I merely prescribed a treatment that I felt would assure you of no ill effects, that's all ... now beat it before your old man comes back here."
"So THAT was it," George thought, in the depths of despair over the fact that this blonde goddess wasn't his and his alone. "She's expecting my old man back and I thought he was through for the night. She obviously knows more about the ways of men than I do."
What was worse she seemed impatient for him to leave, the way she stood there with her gloved arms folded under her great overhanging breasts, one shining, patent leather toe tapping vigorously.
Completely crestfallen, George left and went to his room next door and sure enough, ten minutes after he had climbed into bed he could hear his father creeping down the hall. There followed almost immediately the sounds of laughter mixed with loudly squeaking bed springs, continuing far into the night till George finally fell into a troubled sleep to dream of great breasts, lush buttocks, nylon clad legs and gloved hands that were doing delicious things to him.
As George sat at the breakfast table the following morning with Olga and his father, he tried to catch her eye, but she never once glanced his way as she cast coy, coquettish glances at the old farmer and he in turn did the same to her. Once when his father thought that George wasn't watching as he turned his back to get the toast, he reached out and squeezed one of the great mounds that was threatening to burst right out of her starched white uniform as it jutted far out over the table. She reached toward him under the security of the table and George knew by his excited expression that she had given his cock a squeeze in return.
And so it was for the rest of the day, Olga completely ignoring George, saving all of her attention for his father. Once he saw him sliding his horny hands over her shimmering black silken thighs as she sat in a chair having her lunch and when he came in from his chores he found them in embrace in a dark corner of the old large kitchen. His father had one of her giant melons out of her uniform and he was avidly sucking and mauling it. She had a hand inside his gaping fly, raking his swollen prick with her talon-like nails.
Never before had George felt so low; he began to think that it was all a dream, that it actually had never happened. At dinner that night their attentions to one another became even bolder, as if George hadn't been there at all. When she finished she climbed the stairs as George wistfully watched the broad buttocks swaying in the drum-tight uniform and the flashing silken legs as they disappeared from view.
An hour later George's comic book fell from his hands and his father almost dropped his cup of coffee as Olga descended the stairs. Both males gasped at the vision of big, beautiful Olga, dressed to the hilt in a skin-tight black satin dress that was just barely able to contain her giant hillocks, soft white flesh bulged enticingly over the top and sides and the miniskirt was cut at least five inches above her flashing black nyloned knees. She had on a fresh pair of black kid gloves, even longer and tighter than those that she had previously worn, curving into dramatic points above her shoulders. She had added an elegant sky-high wig to her platinum coiffure and pendant zircon earrings hung excitingly to her shoulders. An elegant silver blue mink stole was draped over one shoulder and a cigarette dangled from her heavily painted lips.
George noted that her heavy eyelids were tinted a bright green as she glanced down at the gloves that she was tortuously attempting to button. The gloves were obviously so agonizingly tight that she could scarcely bend her fingers to complete the task.
She went to the pop-eyed farmer, the upper halves of her giant orbs quivering like two vibrating bowls of half-set Jell-o, holding her hands out in front of her, palms upward.
"Would you mind buttoning these for me, sir, I just can't seem to manage," she said, stealing a quick glance at George for the first time that day, as the old farmer leaped to his feet to oblige her. "I know that you want to be home with your wife tonight, so I hope you won't mind if I take the boy with me ... I have a few errands to do and I hate to go out alone at night."
George didn't mind being referred to as "the boy," he was ecstatic, now he knew that it hadn't all been a delightful dream. Mr. Hammond was in a spot and he was forced to reluctantly agree to her request; so George didn't mind when he saw them in embrace as he brought the car around for her. His father had a giant orb out of her gown and she had a hand on the bulge in his jeans.
As she came down the porch steps stuffing her breast back into her gown as though it were a plastic bag of soft butter, George barely heard her whisper, "Later, baby ... and be sure to bring that big thing with you, my new gloves are anxious for some action."
George was too young to have a driver's license so he moved over and let her ease her broad rear onto the leather seat beside him, her enormous bust literally resting on the steering wheel.
"For obvious reasons I'll have to move the seat back a bit," she giggled as she reached down and pressed the lever, sliding the seat back. Her tight skirt slid far up over her silken thighs and the dashboard lights created a lovely sheen on the gossamer black nylon. As she shifted gears the dress rode higher, revealing a bit of milk white flesh above the jet black elastic tops of her stockings.
Her legs were simply magnificent, long and shapely, thick at thigh and calf, yet tapering into slender knees and ankles. George's eyes wandered eagerly over her well displayed charms, alternating from her tremendous melons, jammed together as they were by the clinging black satin, her long silken legs and her soft arms imprisoned in the vise-like grip of her armpit length gloves.
She created quite a stimulating vision to the impressionable boy and once again George felt his cock begin to expand.
"Incidentally, child, we're not going on errands as I told your father," she said casually. "You're taking me to a costume ball of sorts and I've decided that since you have such a lovely physique, you will go as Samson and I've dressed in this wicked way so that I can be the temptress Delilah. You'll find a pair of briefs in my purse. Get on the floor and disrobe, then put them on."
She wasn't asking him, she was commanding him and from the moment she began her exciting assault on him in her room, George was her slave, to obey her every wish. It was awkward undressing on the car floor, but finally he sat before her on the car floor, naked as a jaybird. He removed the briefs from her purse and was startled to discover that they were no bigger than a G-string.
"Good gosh, Olga," George said with alarm. "I'll never get into these ... er ... you know how I am."
"Oh yes you can," she snapped. "They're made of elasticized cotton and have amazing stretching qualities."
As George put his feet into the leg openings of the briefs and started to tug them up over his leg he was startled to find that they did stretch amazingly. As he adjusted it around his mid section he marveled at the way it clung to his big cock and balls like a second skin, holding them firmly in its pouch.
"Now stay down there, child, it wouldn't do for me to be seen driving a naked boy around," she said with a much softer tone this time as she glanced down, her eyes opening wide at the manly picture he presented.
Heady perfume permeated George's nostrils and he eagerly drank in her lovely legs from his vantage point under the dashboard. They looked long and seductive in the transparent dark hose, especially compelling because of the warm highlights that ran up their entire length, reflecting the dashboard light. She spread her legs just a trifle and because of his low eye level George was treated once again to the sight of her tiny black garter straps framing the platinum nest that could be plainly seen through her sheer black panties.
"Wh-where are we going, Miss Olga? I didn't know that you knew any people around here," George stammered as he stared between her legs.
"We're going to Pottsville. I worked there a couple of years ago and made quite a few friends, swinging friends you will discover. I phoned one of them last evening and she invited me to this party ... it's going to be quite an eye-opener for you ... but I can see by the expression on your naughty face that you already have found an eye-opener," she giggled. "Could it be that you can see my cunt through my panties?"
This was too much for George and he boldly reached out and rested a trembling hand on a silken knee. Although the knee was moving constantly as she was forced to constantly shift gears and work the brakes due to the hilly terrain in the area, she permitted his hot hand to stay there to George's intense delight. He became bolder and did the same with the other hand, thrilling to the smooth texture of the gossamer black nylon. Meeting with no resistance his hands began to wander over her marvelous legs, feeling, caressing, even going so far as to pinch a soft white thigh. Olga began to squirm her meaty buttocks around on the leather seat, opening her legs wide to permit him greater freedom of action.
"Child," she gasped, "if you like what you see between my legs why don't you take a closer look ... nothing personal of course, adhering strictly to our teacher-student relationship ... if you don't mind a suggestion, I love your hands on my stockings but I would appreciate your lips even more."
That was all George needed as he leaned forward and glued his lips to a hard, silken knee. He got on his knees and began a tortuous trail of wet, clinging kisses upward, finally arriving on the soft hot flesh of her thigh. His head was now under Olga's skirt, completely hidden from her view but George could hear her low moans as his lips worked upward. In the stuffy blackness he was overwhelmed by a powerful fragrance of an expensive perfume and it was obvious to him that she had expected that delightful spot to be someone's final resting place for the night. He was putting in his bid for the job and wasn't meeting with any resistance on her part. In fact as his eager lips approached her crotch, she spread her legs as far apart as her tight skirt would permit and her big buttocks quivered and shook on the car seat in anticipation.
As he kissed his way into the flaming heat of her loins, George hooked a finger under the top of her tiny panties and pulled them down, but the onslaught that Olga was anticipating didn't take place. George, his new-found confidence growing by leaps and bounds, remembered how she had teased his father by holding his cock between her breasts, turning him into a raving fool. So he decided to apply a bit of her own technique. He kissed and licked the entire area around her steaming cunt till the tendrils were saturated with his saliva. She kept twisting her big rear around on the seat in a vain attempt to make contact, then in desperation she removed a gloved hand from the wheel and hooked it over the back of his head, jamming his face into her boiling crotch.
"TAKE ME, you little wretch," she screamed, "Take me or I'll suffocate you."
And she meant it because she raised her feet and wrapped her gorgeous legs around his neck, the car gradually slowing down to a halt. She held his face in a vise of meaty, silken thighs and George could scarcely breathe as his tongue slithered deep into her vagina, wiggling like a skewered eel. His tongue lashed deep as he gave her a tongue bath worthy of any experienced lesbian and all the stronger because of his youthful vigor.
George was destined to discover in later years that some women go for the more subtle, artful approach, but not this big lusty creature; she liked her men wild and willing and that was the reason for the long kid gloves and the exciting black nylons. They were merely sexy adornments used to fan a man's passion to a white heat, so that any inhibitions he might have would turn to blackened cinders so that he could give her the type of wild loving that she needed to get any satisfaction at all from their insufficient cocks.
As George's farm-hardened hands ran roughshod over her gleaming limbs, occasionally snapping the slender garter straps into her meaty thighs, his eager tongue and lips made up in energy what they lacked in technique and that was the way she wanted it as evidenced by her low moans of pleasure and her legs that were shaking spasmodically in her delirium.
Her legs were raised now,, her feet pressing against the dashboard, so hard that the seat slid back a few notches on its steel track, a spiked heel breaking the glass on one of the dials, her fulsome thighs burning hot against the sides of his face as George knew for the first time the thrilling taste of cunt. Olga slid her voluptuous hips forward on the seat to serve her pink slit to him on a platter of meaty thighs and shimmering black nylons.
Amazingly, he felt her cunt twitching under his devouring lips, the soft, wet flesh convulsing inward upon itself so that his long tongue was sucked into the plump slot to wiggle amongst the maze of slippery surfaces and delicate tendons. George sucked up a mouthful of the juicy cunt-flesh with such eagerness that Olga cried out from sheer happiness; ecstatic over the fact that George not only had the longest, the fattest cock that she had ever had the pleasure of having, but he also showed a natural ability in the gentle art of cunt sucking.
The fluid that flowed freely from her sweetly fragrant pussy soaked his steaming lips and face as though he had dipped them in a vat of warm olive oil and he lapped up the lot liquor like a starving kitten with a bowl of milk.
Olga had stopped the car at the side of an infrequently used country road. George was so engrossed with his mouthing's he didn't notice that she was gradually inching her big buttocks sideways along the seat, away from the steering column. Then with more room to operate, she leaned forward, his head still held in a prison of sheer black nylons and slipped her gloved hands under the elastic top of his cotton briefs and hoisted his magnificent tool out into the cool night air.
From the eerie glow of the dashboard light his cock resembled a fiery headed monster leaving its lair and eyeing its fantastic length with some trepidation, she wondered where in the world would she put it all; was there room, even in her huge body for such a fleshy giant? Well she damn well meant to find out as her cunt twitched against George's lips in excited anticipation.
He was ready, there was no doubt about that as she peeled his foreskin back over the thick ridge of his knob with gloved forefinger and thumb. But knowingly she didn't cease her gentle tugging once the huge knob was unsheathed. She continued to pull the foreskin back till the excruciating pleasure-pain exerted on the connecting tiny tendons on the underside drove George to ravenous mouthing's and chewing's down below.
"Georgie baby," Olga cooed, pulling his reddened face away from her steaming crotch by the ears and looking into his soulful brown eyes, her own slitted with passion. "You have passed lesson number two with flying colors ... you are now a master pussy sucker; now it's time for lesson number three."
"But Miss Olga," he protested. "I love it so ... you're so delicious ... can't I have some more?"
"Oh you precious darling, never fear you'll have many meals served to you between my legs ... it's just that ... well ... this party we are going to will be unlike any you have ever been to before. Or I certainly HOPE it is. You really should have lesson number three under your belt ... or on your cock might be a more apt phrase," she giggled merrily, her gloved hands continuing to jerk on his massive rod.
"But what could the wonderful lessons that you are teaching me have to do with a party ... I would still like to suck your ... "
"Never mind that, just do as I say," Olga snapped, sensing that he was struggling to get out from under her dominance and assume a natural male mastery over her. She slid a gloved hand down and grasped a hard ball-cock, squeezing it just hard enough to show him how easy it would be for her to ruin him if he didn't do her bidding. He sank back submissively on his naked haunches awaiting lesson number three.
"Now that that is settled, Georgie, in lesson number three you are going to fuck me," Olga said simply, sliding her great buttocks forward to the edge of the seat, splaying her gorgeous black nylon encased limbs as wide apart as they could go, her pussy gaping, quivering in anticipation.
"Gosh Miss Olga, I'll never get him in there ... he's too big," George exclaimed, staring at her ravenous slit.
"Don't worry about that, Georgie, you'll be amazed how my pussy will stretch; your cock is just average size," Olga lied, still careful not to let him know what a sexual phenomenon he was.
"AVERAGE SIZE ... why in school the boys call me 'big cock,'" he exclaimed pridefully. "Why I've never seen a boy with ... "
"That's just it Georgie," Olga interrupted, knowing that this was a very important moment in their relationship. "You're a boy. I imagine as compared to other seventeen year olds you're quit? a prize and when you're a man you no doubt will be then too. But as compared to a mature man your cock is just average in size."
"But I'm much bigger than my father, I saw him with you while I was out on the roof ... why he's ... "
"Georgie," she interrupted once again, "your father is SMALL ... it's unfortunate for him, but he's smaller than other men ... now can we get on with the lesson?"
"Yes," George said weakly, crestfallen over the knowledge that he didn't have a big penis after all. Olga's crafty tactics had worked beautifully.
"Just press forward, baby, that's all you have to do for the moment, I will do the steering."
As he rose from his haunches she grasped his horizontal organ and steered the huge, tapered head between the lips of her juicy cunt. The knob slithered further and further in, stretching her cunt with its immensity, stretched almost to its capacity as sharp pains seared her vitals. She thrilled at the sensation of his hairy balls sliding along her smooth nylons and she gasped with delight as they made contact with the soft inner side of her thighs as they slid off the elastic tops to her stockings.
Then with a searing pain her stretched lips slid over the thick ridge at the rear of his knob and snapped down onto the foreskin at the top of his shaft. She had made it ... thrill of thrills, she had made it. Then as he pressed his cock further and further into her the realization struck her. She had him completely at her mercy. Few women would be able to take his monstrous tool. They would have to be big women with large cunts; there weren't too many of them around ... she was ecstatic.
As George's cock burrowed deeper and deeper he could feel that her inner cunt was quite alive with movement. She seemed to have numerous little muscles over which she had marvelous control. They grouped around his spongy knob clasping and unclasping as she had previously done with both mouth and hands. It was amazing, it was marvelous. This whole incredible world of sex that she was introducing him to had him frantic with passion and wild with excitement.
To Olga there seemed to be no end to his shaft. It just kept sliding in with the intensity and force of a well digger. She felt certain that soon it would be pressing against her lungs. Then she felt his big balls slap against her naked buttocks and she was delirious over the fact that she could take the full size of him.
"Now what do I do, Miss Olga, he's in all the way?" George asked, taking advantage of the moment to insert his fingers under her bra and flip a huge basketball sized melon out of its confines so that it rested high on her rib-cage, rolling about like a half inflated beach ball with the intensity of her breathing. He leaned forward and slipped the thumb sized appendage between his lips and sucked it, awaiting further orders. "Does he seem too small for you?"
"Oh no, he's just fine," Olga gasped as she took the naked orb in her gloved hands and jammed as much of the aureole and its surrounding flesh as she could get into his laving mouth. "Now take him out, but not all of the way ... ou-u-u keep sucking on my nipple I really LOVE that."
Instinctively, before withdrawing, George began to gyrate his hips, the increased friction thrilling both of them to the core, then instinct took over completely as he began to frig her passionately, drawing back and then plowing into her with all of his youthful vigor, his big balls dangling down precariously thin at the top where they joined his groin. Precariously thin because of the violent manner that they were swinging and slapping her buttocks.
Olga writhed and twisted in the grip of a fevered passion unknown to her before. Her constant squeals were high pitched as though they came from a little girl, as he rutted away, pounding his great tool deep into her vitals. Then his balls jerked as they began to feed their creamy contents into his immense shaft and it came on like the unstoppable power of a Boeing 707 taking off, blasting deep inside her, triggering her own earth-shattering orgasm.
"Did ... did I pass lesson number three?" George stammered once he had regained his breath.
"Not quite, Georgie," Olga gasped, just having had the most marvelous fuck that she had ever experienced. "But I think that if you take another test in five minutes you just might."
CHAPTER THREE
George did take the test again, but he didn't wait the five minutes. In about 45 seconds her gloved hands had his cock standing up proudly, ready for action and any teacher would have given him an A for the vigorous efforts that followed.
When they had finished Olga slid back under the wheel and as she tugged her skirt down over her gorgeous legs George realized with dismay that was to be all as she started up the car and ordered him down on the floor once again, paying him no further attention.
George sat dejectedly under the dashboard as the car hummed along and once again the old familiar feeling of lack of confidence flowed over him. She had taught him many marvelous new things, but she didn't seem in the least impressed and after all she had made him take the third test over again. He began to worry over the fact that he would have to appear before a large group of people in G-string like briefs that did nothing in the way of concealing his cock, even if it was only of average size. Not only that, it was so low cut beneath his powerful abdominal muscles that a great mass of black tendrils tumbled over the top of the snow white shorts, he wasn't at all ready to play Samson to her Delilah.
George's apprehension grew as Olga turned off the highway and drove up a long, curving gravel driveway till finally she drew the car to a halt before the pillared front of a brilliantly lit mansion.
"Now get up, child," she said in her most commanding tone. "And don't be nervous, just follow me. If anything seems unusual to you here, just remember that this is an unusual type of costume ball ... I have a sneaking suspicion that you're going to be the hit of the show."
She took his shaking hand in hers and for the first time the sensation of the exquisite kid on his fingers didn't thrill him, as she led him uncertainly up the great marble steps. As a uniformed butter opened the door to their ring, George knew that she wasn't joking when she said that this was going to be a different sort of party. He was uniformed in the typical manner from the waist up, but the only thing he had on below was a well stuffed jock strap.
George recognized the strains of a Strauss waltz from an unseen orchestra as they entered the ballroom. He was so startled that he almost fell on his face at what he saw. It was a costume party all right, but unlike any that he had ever heard of. Both men and women were in the most bizarre costumes imaginable. Sex was the theme and it seemed that without regard to modesty, every female was attempting to show off her charms in the most exciting way possible. They used every material under the sun, from peek-a-boo black lace, to diaphanous black silk. However the most popular material by far was leather and it was used in many different and intriguing ways.
One towering redhead with great pendant breasts that covered all of her upper torso down to her navel, was perched teeteringly on at least nine inch stiletto heels that were attached to a pair of mid-thigh high shining black kid boots. To enable the heels to be so high, the boots had platform soles at least six inches thick. She just stood there, teetering on her heels, obviously able to walk just a little if any and George wondered if she had been carried to the spot. Above the nipped-in boot tops shining black nylons were stretched to the bursting point over her chubby thighs. She was far overweight, but somehow the sight of her standing there helplessly on her stilt heels, all strapped in with black unmentionables, it was as eye-popping a scene as George had ever witnessed. She was strapped in so tight that George half expected her to explode out of her tautly stretched garments, sending the filmy panties, garter belt, bra and hose in all directions. Some were in agonizingly tight leather corsets, others more conservative in daringly cut leather sheaths. The men weren't quite as exposed as the women but they all had one thing in common, whatever they wore around their loins was cut as tight as possible to emphasize and outline the shape and size of their cocks.
George was puzzled because he didn't see any that matched the size of his own. "They must all have small ones," he mused.
The huge redhead spotted George standing in the doorway to the ballroom with Olga, her large green eyes wandered down over George's almost nude form in a way that seemed to reach out and caress every knotted muscle intimately. Her luscious lips formed a wide O of surprise as she noted his immense cock, straining the taut cotton briefs. She moved towards them, teetering atop her nine inch heels, her huge pendulums slithering around on her soft torso. George couldn't see how it was possibly for her wispy black lace bra to stand the strain of their great weight any longer. Great, thumb-sized nipples punched out at the diaphanous lace.
Finally she managed to reach them and she held up a meaty arm to grasp Olga, saying, "Why Olga dahling, I'm so glad that you are living in our area again. I've missed you, baby ... wherever did you find this cute child? I would certainly remember if HE had ever been to one of our get togethers before ... WOW, is he built."
"You're the LAST one I would tell, Dotty, remember I saw him first and finders keepers. George, I'd like to introduce you to our hostess for tonight, Mr. Dorothy Wainright ... he's quite a lad isn't he, Dottie? He sure passed my tests with flying colors."
"Well he hasn't passed the club's initiation test yet," she said with a smile, turning and gesturing to two men in skintight shorts standing nearby. "Turk, Alphonso, we have a prospective member here tonight, prepare me for his initiation please."
"What initiation?" George asked fearfully. "And what does she mean to prepare her for my initiation?"
"Oh don't worry about it, Georgie, she likes to be beaten a bit, that's all ... every new member has to oblige her," Olga said.
"But I don't want to join any club," George whined. "And I'm certainly not going to beat her."
"You'll beat her or you'll never lay another hand on me," Olga snapped fiercely, her lovely eyes slitting in anger.
The general hub-bub of conversation ceased as the two men led the magnificent hostess through the throng with George meekly following. The people drifted back revealing a silken mattress on the floor in the center of the ballroom with steel posts bolted to the floor at its four edges with four lengths of chain and shackles attached. Dotty lay face down on the mattress, her monstrous orbs cushioning out from her great weight. One of the men grabbed her wrist roughly and attached a shackle to it, clamping it tight and inserting a tapered steel peg into two eyelets which held her wrist firmly captive. He repeated the process with the other wrist while the other man did the same with her booted feet, causing her to lie spread-eagled with her enormous round buttocks quivering with expectancy.
Dotty pretended to struggle in an attempt to get free, the rough steel edges of the shackles cutting cruelly into her wrists. George stood quaking at the foot of the mattress as the lights in the room slowly dimmed. Then a spotlight snapped on and they were centered in its brilliant glare. There were audible gasps from the women in the assemblage as the spotlight illuminated for all to see George's rock-hard prick in its flimsy covering, quivering with youthful vitality.
"What a GREAT addition to our group," a woman squealed.
"Geeze and he's just a kid," a man exclaimed enviously.
Then one of the men went to an ancient steel chest that George hadn't noticed previously and inserted a key in a massive lock. When he had opened it and pulled up the lid George gasped at the contents. It was filled with an assortment of medieval torture devices, which although crudely made, could obviously be very efficient. He withdrew a vicious looking bull whip, broad leather belt studded with octagonal shaped steel spikes and leather arm bands studded similarly.
As the man attached the belt and arm bands to George's waist and arms, the other man took out a black leather hood and slipped it over his head. As George peered through the eye-slits and took the offered whip in his powerful hands, a feeling of power and domination flowed over him as though he were settling into a hot tub. He knew that the leather belt and arm bands set off his thick chest with its premature covering of matted black hair and his blacksmith-like arms with their bulging biceps and rippling forearm muscles.
Silence settled like a cape over the assemblage as he spread his powerful legs with their slab-like thigh muscles, his massive tool stretching the minute briefs to their limit. He cracked the whip over his head a few times to get the feel of it as his eyes bored into her massive white buttocks like twin stilettos.
Dottie had twisted her head around to watch as he cracked the long whip in the air, gradually lowering its vicious arc in the direction of her protruding globes, fear etched on her face, but her lovely eyes glistening with excitement. She was reverting to the little girl stage as her excitement grew, babbling almost incoherently. "Oh master, don't strike me on my bare bum with that nasty whip ... I won't be a bad little girl anymore."
But her frantic pleas went for naught as George lashed out with the whip and the heavy cheek jiggled under the impact of the hard leather, a red welt immediately forming on its concave surface as though it had been marked with crimson lipstick. Crack-crack-crack, the cruel leather bit into her soft flesh repeatedly as he moved about, finding new, snowy white surfaces to hit. For one unfamiliar with the art of using a bullwhip he was amazingly accurate.
George resembled a medieval executioner as he exerted every ounce of power that he could muster from his powerful body as he continued to lash away. Only when her huge buttocks were a fiery red did he cease his efforts and stare at the results of his lashing. She was twisting about on the mattress groaning, not in pain but in passion. A tall willowy brunette encased in a skin tight suit of black kid from toe to neck sensed this and dashed forward. She threw herself on her knees in front of George and without any preliminaries tugged his briefs down over his powerful thighs, his great cock springing to attention once released from its flimsy confinement.
"Oh master ... I MUST get you primed for her," she screamed as she jammed her luscious lips over him, her head bobbing frantically.
"And now I must prepare your slave for the entrance of your royal monster," she screamed as she released him and kneeled between the shackled hostess's splayed legs, leaning forward and plunging her face deep into the shadowy cleavage between her buttocks.
Dotty whimpered and her great white buttocks shook as though they were in the firm grip of a vibrating machine, the eager crowd realizing that the woman's rapier-like tongue was doing its job well as she laved the slot and then burrowed her tongue deep into the little brown orifice.
Dotty was thrilled to the core by the strangely sensual caress, the intense pain from her lacerated buttocks gradually dissolving, to be replaced by a glowing warmth that gradually grew to a white heat of passion and desire, desire for the royal monster that was projecting outward from her master's black mesh nest.
Perspiration streamed down her face, not from fear but from breathless anticipation of what she knew was coming as the woman rose, her job done and drifted back into the shadows to become a part of the audience once again.
But the expected onslaught didn't occur. She glanced back awkwardly over her naked shoulders and saw him standing there like a Greek god, fists on hips, the muscles of his powerful forearms bulging, his biceps knotted, the metallic studs gleaming brilliantly in the glare of the spotlight.
"TAKE ME, OH MASTER," Dotty wailed, raising her huge buttocks as high as the chains would permit, wiggling them wantonly as the crowd gasped, her lust-filled eyes riveted on the poker-stick cock that was shining redly in the light. The crowd gasped again, louder this time, as he shook his slim hips just a bit and his massiveness waved back and forth menacingly.
George was enjoying the moment to the utmost. He was the complete master of the situation and he was delighting in it. Not only master of the shackled woman but the crowd as well.
Dotty kept wiggling her raised buttocks seductively, tempting him, knowing that any torment that huge instrument inflicted would be beautiful agony.
The sight of the tiny cleft, saturated from the woman's ministrations, was too much for George as he climbed onto the mattress and knelt between her wide-spread legs, his powerful hands squeezing and pinching her throbbing buttocks cruelly.
"Give it to me, oh master ... give it to me NOW," she screamed, thrusting her hips backward in an attempt to make contact with the monstrous red knob that was gleaming in the spotlight.
She thrilled as she heard low, animal-like growls escaping between his clenched teeth and she knew that the moment she craved was fast approaching, every pore in her fantastic body screaming for it. Then she felt the weight of his body against her as his fevered cock pressed against its lascivious goal. He snapped his hips forward and he was enveloped in a tight cloak of hot wetness as his great head forced the delicate tissues apart. Incredibly she was more pliant than Olga as her tissues stretched to accommodate him.
She screamed repeatedly as he drove into her with piston-like strokes. She arched up from the mattress, the chains rattling as he smashed into her soft buttocks unmercifully, his powerful prick acting as a fuse, igniting a scorching fire in her loins. His powerful hands clung to her shoulders, the nails digging deep as he lunged at her like a lust-mad bull, the sharp metallic studs raking her soft white flesh, making his hard body slippery with her blood.
She was filled with a wild, insatiable craving for even more pain as she began to move in rhythmic response, snapping her lush hips back to meet the impaling lance of fire. She was truly his slave girl, his to do with what he wanted, just so long as he inflicted the sweet torture that she craved. Then he groaned and she felt a searing blast of hot sperm deep inside her kindling her own release, just as powerful, just as devastating.
CHAPTER FOUR
"That was quite a performance you put on, young man," Olga said in a tone that indicated new-found respect for other than his physical attributes, as she drove the car down the road. "I found myself a little jealous of Dotty ... you certainly can be a wicked boy when you want to."
"But that's just it, Miss Olga, I didn't want to be ... I ... I just don't know what came over me. When they dressed me up in that outfit and handed me that big whip a strange feeling came over me that I can't explain."
"Well suffice it to say that the feeling was the proper one for that moment, my lad, I had an idea that you were going to be the hit of the show, but I didn't know how much so. You had better get dressed now, if I know your father he'll be up waiting for us."
"What you mean is, he'll be up waiting for you," George said ruefully.
"I know it bothers you that your father pays so much attention to me, baby, but you must understand that he's a man whose wife has been ill for some time and he has certain physical wants that have to be taken care of. I'm doing it more as a favor to him than anything else. Isn't it better that I do it rather than his having to visit some prostitute in the village?" she whispered, reaching out and pulling down George's zipper, slipping her hand inside and snaking gloved fingers around his limp cock.
"I suppose you're right, Miss Olga, George said, thrilling once again to the contact of the soft kid on his shaft. "But I feel so jealous when I see him pawing you, he doesn't seem to care whether I see you two together or not."
"It's just that he gets so excited when he sees my ... well ... let's say overdeveloped body, that he can't resist touching me, just like I get excited when I see your cock," she giggled as her clinging fingers began to move back and forth. "He doesn't do it to make you jealous; he doesn't realize that there's anything going on between us ... he just can't help himself that's all ... GOOD GRACIOUS, you're starting another erection ... ah, the vigor of youth."
They drove in silence, her gloved hand doing excruciating things to George's rapidly expanding prick as he leaned sleepily back against the car seat enjoying every delicious moment of it. As the hot lava surged from the depths of his balls, George slipped into a much needed slumber.
George awoke some time later with a start. He was in total blackness but he could feel that his boyhood was in the grip of a slippery vacuum cleaner that seemed to be suctioning at full power.
"Wh ... where are we? ... am I blind? I can't see a thing," he exclaimed.
"No, silly boy," Olga gurgled, I've just parked the car in the barn, I HAD to have you come just once more ... you got me so excited at the party ... you got every woman at the party excited and a few of the swishy men."
Once again George leaned back against the car seat and let the now carnivorous nurse have her way with his giant rod. Even after his surging release she clung to the velvety knob with her lush lips.
Sure enough as they entered the old farmhouse, George's father was up waiting for them, pacing nervously back and forth in front of the fire.
"Where'n hell have ya been?" he snapped. "Don't ya realize that he's just a kid, it's after one o'clock."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hammond, we stopped off at a friend of mine's house and we just lost track of the time," Olga said, arching her rib-cage to emphasize the jutting quality of her immense orbs as George removed her mink stole and took it to the closet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father jam a hand deep into her cleavage, but strangely this time he didn't experience the pangs of jealousy that he had previously. His mind was filled with the vision of the huge redhead with the monstrous breasts and booted legs.
"You'd better go to bed now, Georgie," she purred. "Your father and I have something to discuss."
As he mounted the stairs George looked back over his shoulder and saw that his father already had one of her big melons out of her gown and was mouthing it avidly, but it mattered not to him now.
Even later as he lay in his bed and heard giggling and the rhythmic sound of creaking bed springs, he experienced no feeling of jealousy, his mind was centered on the fantastic body of Mrs. Dorothy Wainright. He was wide awake, the hour's sleep in the car was all that his youthful body needed to restore its vigor. He tossed and turned, trying desperately to concentrate on other things in order to bring on sleep, but his thoughts always returned to her unbelievable pulchritude, her mountainous breasts that due to her prone position he hadn't even been able to touch. His tool was at full power as he massaged himself with his rough hands.
Then he knew that sleep would never come, he had to see her again; just the mere sight of her would be enough. He had noticed that there was a balcony running along in front of the upstairs bedrooms. It was two o'clock now and the party was probably just breaking up, or would shortly. If he drove fast he could be there in forty-five minutes. He leaped out of bed and yanked on his clothes. It would be too risky to go out by way of the hall, so he slipped out of the window, hung down, his hands gripping the sill till his feet encountered the wooden gutter. Then he turned sideways and grasped the gutter, lowering his body over the edge to hang suspended, then dropped to the ground.
He ran to the barn and flung open the doors. Fortunately the ground sloped away from the barn, so he went to the car and released the brake, pushing the car backwards till it started to glide down the slope and then jumped into the driver's seat. He wasn't concerned that the amorous couple in Olga's room would hear the sound of the motor, undoubtedly an express train could rip through their room right now and they wouldn't notice. It was his mother that he was concerned about. She was a light sleeper and undoubtedly would be alarmed over the sound of the car starting up at two o'clock in the morning.
He guided the rolling car all the way to the main road before it came to a halt, then he started up the motor and he was off down the road at sixty miles an hour. Later as he encountered cars coming towards him in the vicinity of the Wainright estate he realized with delight that his timing couldn't have been better, the party must just be coming to an end.
When he saw the brilliantly lit mansion in the distance he drove off the road and parked behind some bushes, then made his way over the beautifully manicured lawn till he arrived at the vine covered pillars that held up the balcony he sought. His powerful muscles carried him up the vines with ease as he dropped quietly onto the marble paving. There was a light coming from one bedroom, casting a criss-cross pattern on the paving as it shone through the large French doors. Due to the intense heat of the night, one of the doors was slightly ajar and George could hear the low voices of two women coming from inside. Breathlessly he removed his shoes and crept quietly along till he was able to peer inside. He recognized the voluptuous form of the enchanting hostess in the process of removing her bra. Standing beside her was the willowy shape of the leather clad brunette who had assisted him so ably in his performance. She was frantically trying to get out of her skin-tight leather garment, obviously experiencing as much difficulty as if it were a long, tight glove.
"Wasn't that child simply the MOST?" Dotty exclaimed, as her bra fluttered to the floor, her immense melons plunging free to quiver gelatinously, so huge that they hung pendulously from their sheer weight. The great red aureoles were the size of an average woman's breast themselves, capped with incredibly long nipples that were still swollen with passion from George's whipping.
"He certainly HAD the most, that's for sure," the other woman giggled as she worked the clinging leather garment down over her slender hips, her naked breasts like sizable ice cream cones, jutting out into twin points.
"I hated to see him leave, but Olga said his father would be furious for her keeping him out so late. I was hoping to get my hands on him alone," Dotty said wistfully. "But she promised to bring him to see me later this week."
"Won't I do, darling-g?" the other woman said, finally freeing herself of her garment and clutching one of Dotty's great melons in her eager hands, slipping eager lips over a great appendage.
"You know how much I dig you, darling-g ... it ... it's just that I can't get the impression of that marvelous boy with his incredible cock out of my mind ... love me good tonight, Molly, I need it bad ... REAL bad."
George stood breathless, unable to believe what he was both seeing and hearing. He knew nothing of lesbian love; had never even heard of it. He was thrilled that Dotty was thinking about him, yet she permitted another woman to mouth her breast, her whimperings indicating that she was enjoying it to the fullest. But the marvelous thing was that Olga had been lying. He did have a big cock. He couldn't keep his eyes off the glamorous hostess's incredible pulchritude, her monstrous breasts that almost completely overlapped her black lace garter belt, her slender garter straps that led down to shimmering black nylon hose, the exquisite mid-thigh length black kid boots with their nine-inch heels.
As Molly sucked avidly on the huge nipple, her hands were busy tugging her hostess's diaphanous little black panties down over her flaring hips, the material stretching to the bursting point. Once over the crest of her hips, she let them slide to the floor as Dotty obligingly stepped out of them. George stared fascinated at her flaming red forest of Aphrodite, the yawning channel plainly visible through the tendrils. As he stared, a wiggling finger worked its way into the pink cleft. Molly was doing her best to make her forget about George. Then Molly dropped to her knees before her and her tongue replaced the finger, spearing deep.
"Not like that this time, baby," Dotty whimpered, reaching behind her and removing a large white candle from a heavy brass holder on her desk and holding it down to her. "I can close my eyes and make believe it's him."
She took it in her fist and holding it the way one might carve initials into a tree, she forced the pointed end deep into the saturated cunt.
"Oh Georgie-Georgie, that feels so GOOD-D-D," Dotty wailed as Molly worked her clenched fist back and forth. "It feels like it was really his ... it feels like the REAL thing."
"Wouldn't you enjoy it more if it WERE the real thing?" George offered as he entered the room from the balcony stark naked, preceded by his waving penis. If anything it was bigger than before from the mental stimulation of seeing these two fantastic women doing bizarre things to one another.
"I rawther think we would, don't yoo, Dotty?" Molly said in a clipped British accent.
CHAPTER FIVE
"GEORGIE," the magnificently constructed hostess screamed. "Is it really you?"
"Yes it's really me," George said boldly. "I think I have something for you that you want."
"I'll say you do, child," she exclaimed, her eyes glued to his waving cock. "But I've been such a naughty girl, Georgie ... I made believe that candle was you ... I really think I should be punished for such a shameful pretense, don't you?"
"Yes you should, you naughty girl," George snapped, his eyes slitting viciously as he walked slowly to her dressing table, giving both excited women a view of his quivering prick. George was learning quickly, he knew what she wanted, indeed what she needed and he was prepared to dole it out in double doses if the fruits of his labors was to be access to her unbelievable pulchritude.
He picked up a sterling silver hair brush from the table with the initials D.W. in bold relief on its gleaming surface.
"Oh you terrible boy, you're not going to strike me with THAT?" Dotty cried in mock alarm. "My big bun is all sore from the awful whipping you gave me before."
She was sitting on the bed now, her gleaming booted legs held out before her, opening and closing in convulsive motions, her fingers capped with talon-like nails, brilliantly carmine, delicious, scratching at her boiling crotch. Her eyes were like hot hands massaging his waving penis as he approached her, smacking his open palm menacingly with the flat side of the brush.
"No little girl, you've been very bad and I must punish you for it," he snarled as he sat down beside Dotty and threw her roughly across his naked thighs, his cock pressing deep into her soft tummy, taking the opportunity to grasp one of her gigantic, hanging melons for the first time, squeezing and twisting it cruelly. As he raised the hand with the brush high overhead his fingers grasped the great appendage and rolled it hard between his fingers.
"Oh pinch it HARDER ... I LOVE that," she screamed, then she screamed again as the hairbrush struck her reddened rear with a resounding CRACK. He maintained a steady rain of blows on her huge buttocks as he ripped viciously at her pendant melons with his other hand, once again the wonderfully warm feeling of complete domination of another being flowing over him.
He was fascinated by the red initials that appeared on the soft flesh as though he were stamping her with a red stamp. He wished that the brush bore the initials G.H. so that he could brand her as his own. Her whole body was ravaged with delicious pain as the silver initials dug ruthlessly into her tender flesh. She writhed and twisted from the brutal onslaught, beaten and humiliated, but this was what she craved, what she had to have in order to enjoy the dramatic ending to the scene.
In a state of almost semi-consciousness she felt herself being lifted from his thighs as the spanking ceased. She started to lay on her back but he stopped her.
"No you naughty girl, as part of your punishment I want you on top," he snapped as he scrambled into the center of the bed and lay on his back, his head on the pillow. "Now get above me."
"Yes master," she whimpered. "Anything you desire I will do."
She got unsteadily on her haunches, the boots cutting cruelly into her flesh, cutting off the circulation. She had to raise her lacerated rear high to clear his erect cock, supporting herself with her hands deep in the pillow on either side of his head, her magnificent pendant breasts so huge that they dangled scant inches from his face. As she lowered herself upon him, George started to slap her great molescent mounds together, causing them to quiver like balloons in a windstorm, pausing to squeeze and hoist them, marveling at their incredible weight.
"Oh MASTER ... he's too BIG," she wailed as she pressed fruitlessly down on his great knob with all of her weight.
Once again that night Molly saw an opportunity to assist her hostess and she climbed onto the bed and leaned her full weight on the frantic socialite's shoulders. Their combined weight did the trick as his turgid power prober deeper and deeper as the ripe enchantress swiveled her hips wantonly. She screamed with anguished pain as he impaled her on his lance, grasping her buttocks in his farm toughened hands and assisting Molly in her torturous descent.
"I don't BELIEVE it," she screamed as he found that he could go no further. "No one has ever struck bottom with me before ... "OU-U-U it feels so GOOD-D-D!!"
Then in a sensual frenzy, she began to ride him as though she were posting on a horse, he raising up to meet her downward thrusts with precise timing, timing that he had put to good use on Olga, timing that most men never acquire, no matter how experienced they are. Incredibly their culmination was timed perfectly too as both dams burst asunder and merged into one great torrent that seared their loins and fired their senses.
CHAPTER SIX
Naturally a woman with the almost primitive sexual cravings that Mrs. Dorothy Wainright the third had wouldn't let the bonanza that she had discovered in the form of George Hammond slip from her grasp. She hired him as a part time gardener; that is on the face of it she did but of course George did very little gardening.
She wouldn't even let her chauffeur pick him up after school, going instead herself in order to get him so worked up during the hour's drive to her estate by feverish ministrations of his penis that he could hardly wait to get her into the privacy of her bedroom when they arrived.
After four months George reached his seventeenth birthday and he was able to acquire his driver's license. That opened up an entirely new world to her, enabling her to have him drive on the return trip. Now she was able to concentrate entirely on arousing him to the pitch that she wanted, spending most of the time on her knees teasing his noble cock with her lush lips.
She discovered the craving for leather gloves that Olga had instilled in him and the local cleaner couldn't understand why there were always four or five pairs of black kid gloves in his shop every week from the Wainright's.
When he graduated from High School she gave him a full time job, full time that is with her lascivious cravings and he moved into a small apartment over the garage. Now he was at her beck and call constantly and he wouldn't have had it any other way, for although he always started off their numerous soirees with a ruthless beating, he in fact was her slave, a slave to her fantastic body, her mammoth bust. It had been his fortune that his first two sexual experiences has been with women who possessed abnormally large breasts; first Olga with her great orbs, then the gorgeous socialite with her even more enormous, pendant melons. This did something to his psyche that was to stick with him the rest of his life, a craving for women with huge breasts. The short experience with Olga would not have that much effect on him, but the long, drawn out relationship with Mrs. Wainright certainly did.
He grew to worship her immense melons so that during the periods when her husband was home, he would almost go out of his mind with longing for them.
One day while she was propped up on her hands above him, her giant orbs hanging down at his disposal, he mouthing first one great nipple then the other as he squeezed and tortured the pliable flesh, he muttered, "Oh I love your breasts so ... I ... I go crazy when Mr. Wainright is home and I see them bouncing around in your dress and I can't kiss them, or even touch them ... and at night it's even worse, I hardly sleep a wink."
"Why baby ... I knew you loved my breasts, but I didn't know how much so, we'll have to do something about that ... oh that's it, bite my nipple, I go wild when you do that. They're sore all day long from your bites but I love the feeling, it seems to bring me closer to you if you aren't there, just knowing that you inflicted the soreness ... I think I know what might partially solve your problem darling-g. Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."
She went to her closet for a negligee and George was thrilled at the vision of her black nyloned legs shimmering in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the huge French doors, her great, ham-like buttocks grinding together causing the shirred garter straps to cut deep into their softness as they pulled the stockings taut.
She left the bedroom enveloped in a diaphanous black negligee, returning shortly with a Polaroid camera.
"How would you like to have some photographs of the goodies you love so much when you're not able to have the real thing?" she giggled. "It might be nice to relieve yourself while you look at them."
"Oh would you?" George exclaimed excitedly. "Oh I'd LOVE that."
"Of course I will lover boy ... you ought to know by now that I'll do anything for you, although it does seem a terrible waste of your passions," she said wistfully.
George eagerly took the camera and he took dozens of photos of her great melons from every conceivable angle. She first took the precaution to comb her long, flaming red hair down over her face so that she couldn't be identified, but anyone residing anywhere within a ten mile radius would be able to tell that the enormous orbs that enveloped everything above her navel belonged to Mrs. Dorothy Wainright the third.
"If you're especially good to me this afternoon precious," she moaned as he finished taking the pictures and glued his lips once again to a swollen appendage. "I might let you take some pictures of the two of us together ... ou-u-u that's it, take as much as you can into your mouth ... the camera has a timing device on it."
"Oh that would be wonderful."
"Just lie on your back and spread your legs and I'll show you how it works," she said as she took the camera and placed it on the bed between his legs, aiming it at his erect cock, she set the timing device and then climbed quickly onto the bed above him, spreading her silken legs and lowering her great buttocks. The camera clicked when her gaping cunt was scant inches from his fiery knob and the two of them eagerly awaited the results.
"You know baby," she giggled as they waited the required time before ripping the picture from the camera. "I miss that huge cock of yours just as much as you miss my breasts. I want some pictures of him too."
The picture was incredible. It showed in full color a clear view of his erect prick projecting upwards from its black mesh nest, his big hairy balls resting on the sheets. There was an exciting foreshortened view of her shapely legs in their drum-tight covering of black nylon, with her flaming red bush and its yawning cunt between.
"Oh it's unbelievable," she screamed delightedly. "I must have one like that too."
So they repeated the pose and now they both had one; then they proceeded to take many more. Somewhere along the line the camera was forgotten as their mutual insatiable lust for one another took over. As always with them, nature overcame every obstacle.
Her solution proved to be a good one. Every night that George couldn't see his fabulous mistress, he would remove the pictures from their hiding place inside the loudspeaker section of his TV set. He had removed all of the screws but one from the frame that held the fabric over the speaker. All he had to do then was to remove the one screw and he had his pictures. As he turned the pictures over slowly, one by one, he would jerk his huge cock with his other hand. This was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it did solve the problem.
"Darling-g," she whispered to him one day as they lay in embrace in her bed. "I have something to confess to you."
"Confess? ... what do you mean?"
"Well I haven't told you before because I was afraid you might think of me ... well ... as an old woman."
"If you're an old woman you're the most beautiful one that ever lived," he giggled as he paid homage to an immense melon with his lips for the millionth time.
"No ... seriously baby ... I've never discussed age with you because although I'm considered young by adults, anyone of your age might consider me old."
"Oh come on that's ridiculous. I've always known that you're years older than I am but that doesn't make any difference."
"Yes ... but you don't know how many years ... I ... I have a daughter."
"So?"
"Not a little daughter ... a grown one."
"You're joking, you couldn't have."
"Oh yes I do. She's been at finish school but she's coming home for Christmas vacation ... I was very young when I had her," she added fearfully. "She's sixteen."
George was intrigued by the idea that the social Queen had a daughter only slightly younger than he. He wondered if she had inherited any of her mother's physical attributes, her masochistic leanings. It was with a great sense of anticipation that he awaited the day of her arrival.
When the day finally arrived and he heard the chauffeur gun the motor of the Caddy in the garage below him as he prepared to go to the airport to pick her up, he decided to stay in his room so that he could have a view of her when they returned.
An hour or so later George heard the crunch of the Caddie's big tires on the long gravel driveway and he ran to the window to see. Oddly, the chauffeur didn't stop the car in front of the steps that led to the mansion, instead he kept right on driving towards the garage and entered it, but not before George could see the young girl sitting beside him in the front seat. He caught a glimpse of a truly lovely face, topped with a sky-high, bouffant blond hairdo that was the current style with teen-agers.
George and Harry Johnson, the chauffeur, did not get along very well together. Harry, as with all the other servants, envied the fact that George didn't seem to ever do any work. He had been hired as an assistant to the head gardener, yet the head gardener did all of the landscaping and there was lots of it on such a tremendous estate. They each went their separate ways and scarcely spoke to one another.
The flooring in George's apartment was laid over the joists without any sub flooring so that he was able to hear anything that went on in the garage below. Over the sound of his radio George hear angry talk down below, so he hurried to turn it off.
"Get your rough old hands off my thigh, you'll ruin my new nylons" a girlish voice snapped.
"But Miss Carol, you didn't mind last summer ... you seemed to like it," Harry whined.
"I didn't wear nylons in the summer ... anyway, just because I let you feel my legs then, doesn't give you license to do so now," she said acidly.
"You let me touch a HELL of a lot more than your legs girlie, you let me stick my fact cock in that cunt of yours," Harry exclaimed crudely, obviously angered over an unexpected change in her attitude towards him."
"Why Harry, you old sun of a gun," George mused.
"THAT was before my mother sent me to finishing school Harry," she shouted. "I've learned that a girl of my station in life should never have anything to do with anyone in yours ... anyway, I like BIG men."
"Ain't I big enough? ... I'm six feet three."
"I don't mean in height doll," she snapped as George heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by the sound of stiletto heels clicking on the garage's cement flooring. "That isn't where it counts."
George could hardly suppress his laughter as he peered out of the window and saw the figure of a hipsy-tailsy-busty blond as she emerged from the garage door beneath. There was no doubt about it she was breathtaking. Not in the overpowering way that her mother was, she wasn't even a miniature addition. Her legs and torso were slim as a reed, but her lush buttocks were deliciously rounded as they jiggled inside her tight miniskirt. Her unbrassiered breasts were uptilted youthfully, tapering sharply into twin points that seemed about to spear right through her tight sweater as they jounced wildly with the rapid movement of her walk to the house. Her long legs were excitingly clad in nylons of a black lace pattern and her black pumps stilt-heeled.
"WOW what a dish," George thought. "Brother would I love to get into her pants, but the chances sure are small with her class consciousness."
The fact was that George was beginning to get a bit tired of having sex with just one woman. It wasn't that she didn't satisfy his every need. He knew that no woman would ever be able to match her in that department. It was just that he had such a feeling of confidence in his sexual wares that he wanted to have the satisfaction of exhibiting them to other women. His constant beatings of the socialite had developed a dominating attitude in him that needed to have women, many women, groveling at his feet. This sexy dish presented a problem, but he had the self-confidence to think that he was capable of overcoming any problem if he put his mind to it.
The remark that she had made about the fact that she liked big men. Well that was his ace in the hole and he would have to work on that angle. He knew that the Wainright's would be occupied with holiday parties for some time to come, so that would give him a little freedom of action to work out a plan.
He started by going to town and buying the tightest pair of chino pants that he could possibly fit into. They fit him like a second skin and it would take a blind person to miss the great lump of his cock and balls at his crotch.
That night Harry drove the Wainright's off to another party and George decided that this was his chance. He slipped into his chinos and pulled on a thin turtle neck sweater that showed off his V shaped torso beautifully. As an afterthought he rolled up the sleeves to his armpits so that his bulging biceps and rippling forearm muscles showed to advantage. He had noticed that Carol took the Wainright's collie for a walk every night, so he stayed glued to the window awaiting his opportunity. Just the thought of that bumptious creature in his arms made his cock expand and strain at the thin cotton fabric, outlining its every nook and cranny. The usual time for her walk came and went as gloom began to settle over him. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Perhaps it was best that it didn't anyway. There was always the threat of discovery, or Carol might talk and that would be disastrous, undoubtedly ruining the softest job that he would ever have.
Then suddenly he saw her running down the steps with the big collie on the lead. He dashed down the steps and ran to the heated green house. He went inside and cut an armload of flowers and made his way out on the lawn. He made his way casually up to the house. If his timing was right he would just about meet her at the front door as she returned. His timing was perfect. As he put his foot on one end of the long marble stairs, he could just make her out doing the same at the other end. As they approached one another the collie barked furiously.
"Oh come on Shep ... you know your old friend George," he called.
"Oh so you're George," Carol said with obvious disinterest as they came up to one another by the huge front doors. "Mother said that she had hired a boy to help Mr. Harris."
"Yes it is Miss Carol, I've been looking forward to meeting you," George said eagerly.
"Oh have you really," she said icily, tilting her nose up, not even looking at him. "Do you always get this familiar with the people that you work for?"
"Not unless they want me to be," he responded with chagrin. "I took the liberty of cutting some flowers for the house."
"Just don't try to take any liberties with me sonny," she snapped. "You may bring them in if you like."
George's desires were rising in leaps and bounds for this seemingly unattainable creature as he watched her buttocks working against her tight mini-skirt and her pointed breasts bobbing about in her ever-present tight sweater. He was rising down below too and he found it awkward walking as he followed her into the house. As they entered the brilliantly lit hallway, Shep made matters worse by jamming his snout there, getting the scent of the juices that were beginning to flow.
"SHEP ... you stop that you naughty ... " her words froze in her throat as she yanked the dog back and saw where his snout had been. "Good GRACIOUS ... did ... did Shep do that ... did he hurt you?"
"Er ... yes ... he did nip me through my pants ... I seem to be all swollen," George said shakily, grasping at the unexpected opportunity.
"Good heavens, I don't know what came over him, he's never nipped anyone before ... do you think it ... er ... he ...?" she stammered, unable to find the right word. "Do you think you'll need a band-aid?"
"Gee I might Miss Carol ... it hurts something fierce," George said, trying desperately to hide his elation over the beautiful spot he had her in.
"Shep you've been a BAD dog," she screamed, unhooking his collar with the lead still attached and whipping him cruelly several times with the lead.
She was obviously very worried. Shep was her dog and was undoubtedly more concerned over what her parents might do about the dog than she was over George's condition.
"Oh please don't hit him Miss Carol, I must have frightened him, coming up on him in the dark the way I did," George exclaimed, fearful now that all would be lost if she discovered that he wasn't nipped at all.
Then he realized what he must do. He put his hand in his pocket and gritted his teeth as he dug three of his fingernails deep into his hard prick. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to show a mark.
"Are ... are you certain that his bite made you swell up like that," she stammered, her eyes glued to the shape of his cock almost bursting the seams of his chinos, as though looking for signs of blood. "I mean ... did it ever happen to you before?"
"Well it did once, I was hit there by a baseball and it swelled up, but nothing like this."
"We ... we're going to have to look at you, you won't be embarrassed, will you?"
"Gee ... no one has ever ... I mean ... oh shucks I guess we have to."
"Would you feel better about it if I did it for you?"
"Y-yes I think that I would."
She leaned down and with fingers that trembled like a leaf in the wind she managed to get his zipper down. Then as though she were reaching into a fuse box to see if a wire was alive or not, she reached into his fly and snaked her cool, slender fingers around his massive penis, cupping it in her palm and bringing it out into the light. She gasped at the size of the pulsating red knob that lay in the heel of her palm with nature's oil dribbling from the cunt shaped slit. Three thin red slashes were plainly evident on his foot long shaft.
"Oh what a relief," she exclaimed. "It isn't bad at all. I don't even think we need bother with a band-aid, do you?"
"Naw ... he's O.K."
"Do you still hurt?"
"Not as much as before."
"Well that's good," she said, releasing his immense cock, but not putting it back in his trousers.
Then she did a strange thing. A beautiful smile came over her face as she picked up the dog's lead with the collar attached and before George knew what was happening she attached the collar around his neck.
"Wh ... what's that for?" he stammered.
"Oh you'll see," she purred as she began to lead him toward a table.
When she got to the table she turned and slid her delightful rump onto its shiny surface. "If I let go of the lead for a moment, do you promise that you won't run away doggie?" she giggled.
"Yes I promise," George said, unable to fathom what was going on. "But don't you think I should put him back in my trousers?"
"No I'd prefer that he stay where he is for the moment," she cooed, as before his startled eyes she began to tug her sweater over her head. She did it slowly, obviously for his benefit. The shirred lower edge of the sweater raised slowly upwards, revealing her bare midriff, her dimpled tummy and then her amazingly pointed breasts capped with apricot shaded nipples at least an inch in length, tapering into pebbly points.
Even before she had the sweater over her head she was drawing him to her. "If you see anything you'd like to lick doggie, be my guest," she said wickedly, as the sweater fell to the carpet.
"Miss C-Carol ... wh-what are you doing?" George gasped as she drew his head closer and closer to her pointed melons.
"I'm just a young girl playing with her doggie," she purred. "Lick me Doggie."
Still holding the lead, she drew him hypnotically towards one of her elongated nipples, a tumult of hot passion boiling through his veins. The pointed dome of flesh was soft to his now straining lips as his nose pressed deep into the tender soft cushion. He drew the sausage-like nipple into his hot mouth for a moment as she whimpered, pulling harder on the lead. He got her message and opening his mouth as wide as he could he filled it with as much as he could of her female flesh.
"Now lick it GOOD-D doggie", she wailed as she began to scissor her silken knees open and closed on the table top, still drawing him deeper into the softness of her breast till he could hardly breathe.
"Oh honey," she moaned in a throaty voice that was almost as sensual and mature as her mother's. "I dig that the MOST ... that's it, chew it up ... don't forget the other one ... ah-h-h-h."
He was chewing on the other one now, stabbing and laving the elongated nipple with the point of his tongue.
"Can I let go of the lead now, little doggie? ... somehow I don't think that you'll run away," she moaned.
George nodded affirmatively as he now had his two big hands on both sides of her pointed hillock in the manner that a football center holds the ball, squeezing it into further elongation so that he could draw more and more of her soft hot flesh into his eager mouth.
She twisted on the table and worked at the catches to her skirt, loosening it, then raising first one curvaceous buttock then the other she was able to slip it off. George released her breast and pulled back, gasping at the sensual picture she presented, the youthful vitality of her near-perfect figure enhanced by the black lace hose, held up by wispy white lace garters that had white mink pom-poms on their sides.
Those stockings, those slim white thighs, those pointed melons capped with such amazingly long nipples ... they screamed of forbidden sex and exotic vices.
Tiny little black panties filled to the brim with her cunt flesh caressed her loins. She smiled as she saw that his gaze was centered on them. She spread her legs wantonlv, wiggling her rounded rump on the shiny table top with a resultant squeaking sound.
"What fascinates you so down there little doggie," she purred, "You're licking your chops, does it look good enough to eat?"
George nodded mutely as she began to pull the lead downward, his face sliding over her vibrant young body.
"Keep licking me doggie," she commanded, slashing George along the side of his face with the chain lead.
His stroking tongue worked its way over the indentation of her chest cavity, then dipped into her navel, causing her to whimper and jerk convulsively on the table.
"Take my panties off doggie," she whispered excitedly.
George hooked his fingers into the wispy bit of black nylon and once again she slashed his face with the lead, harder this time.
"Not with your paws doggie ... you could never do it with your paws, a doggie uses his teeth," she giggled.
"WHAT?" George exclaimed in disbelief.
"Why you're as untrained as a little puppy," she scolded, lacerating his face once again with the lead. "Do as your mistress says."
George pressed his face into her soft little belly and grasped the elastic top edge of her panties in his front teeth. The spine-tingling scent of her nylon cupped cunt permeated his nostrils as he dragged the tiny panties down over her thighs. When they got to her knees he released them and they slid down her hanging legs and she kicked them from her stiletto heeled feet.
"Come and get your meal doggie," she moaned, spreading her legs once again and twisting her rump about expectantly as she drew him towards the splayed open lips of her hot cunt. The warmth of his panting breath caressed Carol's black lace encased thighs as she directed his tormenting mouth upwards by the lead. She shivered with expectancy as she awaited the first vital contact.
And then he was there. Her body leaped forwards on the desk to receive the spearing tongue, then the clinging mouth. Delightful shivers danced along her spine to explode in her brain. She felt his rough hands sliding over her naked hips and tighten in the soft flesh of her rounded buttocks as his lustful mouth paid homage to the pink, palpitate cunt that was wet and juicy of its own delicious liquor. He drew a sizable amount of slippery inner cunt flesh between his ravenous lips and nibbled on it.
Uncontrollably her hips began to squirm about as he slid a hand between her wide stretched buttocks and jammed a thick finger into the tiny puckered anus and felt it clench and unclench on his knuckle.
"FUCK me doggie," she screamed, pushing him away and sliding off of the desk. "Give me that precious fat cock of yours NOW!!"
George stared in disbelief as she got down on her knees and thrust her naked rump high in the air like a bitch in heat. George was swept along by the frenzied current of Carol's craving, as he hunched above her, staring down at the taut, quivering globes of her uptilted buttocks, her gaping twat quivering with longing for his fat cock.
"SCREW IT ... SCREW IT ... SCREW IT," she screamed, completely out of control now.
She reached behind her, groping wildly and found his fevered prong, steering it to his port of call. He lunged and for a brief moment there was resistance, then he felt himself slide into hot tightness, the great blunt head tearing its way through the delicate tissues.
She screamed and raised her buttocks even higher to meet him. He let his full weight rest on her back as he reached around her rib-cage from both sides and captured her dangling melons in his calloused hands, rotating the inch long appendages viciously between his fingers.
She ground her hips seductively and an intoxicating friction sent electric charges piercing through his nerve system.
"Now you're there doggie, FUCK IT ... FUCK IT HARD," she wailed ... I want all of your monster cock in my ass ... you must be a Saint Bernard."
Her lewd words drove George to new heights of passion, galvanizing him into violent action. Animal-like growls escaped his bared teeth as he rutted away at her, not like a human, but like a giant mastiff fucking a terrier in heat.
As he lashed away at her, her soft buttocks acted as cushions for his swinging balls as they smacked into them repeatedly, bouncing them back for the next onslaught. From her frantic screams he knew that he was hurting her, but she took it all and bagged for more, tilting her rear even higher. She seemed to have incredible muscular control as she clung to his exquisitely sensitive cock with a searing grip.
The little seductress wriggled her succulent, greedy hips from side to side 'til he felt as though his prick might break in two, delicious charges of pain jarring his nervous system. Her rear moved like a whirlwind. She was youthful, a go-go dancer on a spit of long hard cock, with the violent movements that only a young go-go dancer can manage. An older woman's spine would have snapped in ten places if she had tried to emulate her, such were the violence of her movements as she worked her skewered ass on his monstrous prick.
She was adorable yet base, vital yet depraved; so completely wanton that her mother by comparison seemed like a wooden statue. Even in his delirium George noticed the twin half-moons of her ass tense against his hairy balls and he knew that she was about to come. He wasn't that close to spewing out his hot sperm and fear of being left high and dry on her ass drove him on with maniacal fury as he pistoned his fat penis deep into her with unbelievable rapidity.
The sharp tab to the zipper on his trousers and the zipper itself cut into her flailing buttocks like a knife into warm butter, but she didn't mind, she loved the excruciating pleasure-pain. She even ground her ass against them to increase the sensation.
"Oh you wonderful Saint Bernard you ... no man has a cock so huge as yours," she wailed as she beat her clenched fists on the rug. "I feels like the thick trunk of an elephant is in my ass hole."
"Oh you like Georgie's big cock do you?" he gasped pridefully. Even in his frantic excitement George was delicious over the fact that what he had always thought was true: his was a cock to be envied by men and craved by women.
He rutted into her ass like a depraved bull until he felt his great balls tighten in preparation for the blastoff, followed by the incomparable sensation as they sent his hot, sticky sperm soaring up the great length of his shaft to spurt with incredible force deep into her ass.
"Oh I want it. I WANT IT," the frantic girl screamed, as she pulled away, sperm continuing to spurt from his prong to land in sticky mounds on the deep piled rug. She crawled on her silken knees toward the successive shots of white liquid and opened her mouth wide to receive it. The first shot hit her on the cheek with a splat, but she captured the next and the next and the next; crawling towards him as the distance shortened.
Finally George was juiceless and she wiped the sperm from her cheek with a forefinger and sucked it off as though it were a lollipop.
"You're a fraud you know," she giggled as she took a compact from her purse and applied some fresh lipstick to her lips.
"W-what do you mean?" he stammered, wondering how in the world she knew.
"Do you think that I'm so stupid that I can't tell the difference between the marks left by a doggie's teeth and those left by a boy's fingernails?"
CHAPTER SIX
Of course George realized that his life of sex and freedom from labor was destined to end someday, but he didn't realize how soon. Mrs. Wainright caught Carol and he in the midst of frantic sexual combat two days later and fired him on the spot, instructing the gate keeper to never permit him into the estate again. He tried phoning a few times to see if he could make amends but the glamorous socialite wouldn't speak to him.
He had saved some money, so he rented a furnished room in town and set out to find work. To his dismay because of his youth the only job he could find was as a dishwasher in Frieda's Diner on the main highway two miles outside of town. Frieda was a huge, blowzy blond, far overweight, with beefy arms and legs and a monumental bosom. Her bust intrigued him at first because it reminded him wistfully of his past employer. But the rest of her was so hefty, her white uniform always so soiled and grease stained, that his mild interested in her soon dissipated. She slopped around the run-down diner in sneakers, caring not a bit for her appearance as most of her trade were truck drivers and they didn't seem to mind. She was loud and raucous and was a perfect foil for their rough talk and they all loved her for it.
One rainy night just before closing time the two of them were alone and she turned to George as he walked along with an armload of dishes. "Say sonny, ya sure have a powerful set a arms for a kid ... are ya built like that all over?"
George almost dropped the whole load of dishes, he didn't like her tone or what she said. It had been evident to him all evening that she had been in a strange mood. She hadn't been her usual bantering, cheerful self. She seemed to be nervous and out of sorts.
"Aw cut your kidding Frieda, how about playing some pinball games at a buck a throw 'til closing time?" he offered, hoping to get her interest on something other than his muscular arms.
She didn't answer, just stood in his way so that he couldn't get the dishes into the kitchen, staring at his rock-hard biceps and the way his bronzed forearm muscles rippled from the heavy load.
"Naw, I don't want ta play pinball with ya sonny, that's fer kids, it's time ya learned some adult games," she said throatily, her husky voice almost purring.
"Well how about some poker," George said weakly. "I got a deck right in my pocket."
"That ain't the kind a adult game I had in mind," she said, reaching out and running a fat finger over his thin cotton shirt, probing for his washboard-like abdominal muscles. "Brother ya sure are built, y'er as hard as steel, that's the way I like a man."
George was worried. The job was very important to him. He realized that this was the only kind of work that he could hope to find till he grew a little older. He wanted to stay in town in the hopes of seeing Mrs. Wainright on the streets one day and see if the sight of him would remind her of the big cock she was missing. This was his one chance to get back into the lap of luxury, but he needed the job to sustain him in the meantime.
"C'mon sonny," she said, turning and walking away from him, her massive buttocks grinding together under the soiled uniform. "Put the dishes in the sink and come into the men's room with me, I got a nice little game ta show ya."
George was petrified. He knew that she wasn't kidding, she wanted him to service her in one way or another and the mere thought revolted him. She was so fat, so dirty, but he knew he had to go through with it. The thing that concerned him the most was that he knew that he would never be able to get his cock into any kind of condition to take care of her if that was what she was after. She was just too fat, too disgusting. After he set the dishes in the sink he frantically tried to get some response by rubbing his limp penis with his hands, but there was none, he was just too revolted by the thought of having to make love to such a woman.
When he fearfully entered the washroom she was leaning her great bulk against the filthy sink with her fat legs spread wide apart, her hands on her huge hips. As always the place was disreputable. A sour odor permeated the little room and the floor was littered with cigarette butts, beer cans and other assorted trash. Her fat figure clad in the dirty uniform and her soiled white sneakers certainly were in the right setting, but definitely not conducive to sex.
She reached into a pocket in her uniform and took out a key, handing it to him. "Lock the door sonny, then I got somethin' real nice ta show ya."
George took the key with shaking fingers and turned to lock the door. When he turned back, air hissed between his teeth as his lungs collapsed. She was holding her skirt up to her waist exposing a great black nest that came almost up to her navel. A ridiculously tiny pair of white nylon panties was so stuffed with hair and crotch flesh that she almost resembled a man. A gaping pink cunt was plainly visible through the stretched mesh. Her meaty legs were set so far apart that she could have sat on a six inch thick log and it wouldn't have touched either one. On an attractive woman this incredible sight would have driven any red blooded man out of his mind, but unfortunately for George it belonged to Frieda. Obese Frieda. Disgusting Frieda.
"I knew ya'd like it sonny," she giggled, as she noted his startled expression. "Never seen anythin' like it have ya?"
"N-no I certainly haven't," George stammered and he meant it.
"Well lover boy it's all yer's just fer the takin," she said proudly. "Many a man's gone crazy over what yer lookin' at. I got the hots so bad tanight I could scream, ya gotta take care a me. I know yer boy prick ain't big enough ta do anythin' fer me, but I happened to see that ya have a silly habit a ticklin' the underside a yer nose with the tip a yer tongue when y'er thinkin'. Ya really got some tongue there sonny ... get the message?" Frieda said, placing the fingers of her hands on both sides of her runt and pulling the massive lips wide apart, affording him an incredible view of the gaping inside with its mass of slippery tissue and tendons. Centered at the top of the open cunt was a stubby clitoris the width of a quarter.
Suddenly as George gazed at the seamy environs and the great open cunt of this disgusting, obese woman, it struck him to what terrible depths he had fallen. First his glamorous existence at the Wainright's mansion, in his mistresses perfumed boudoir, with her magnificent, well cared for body at his disposal on silken sheets ... and now this.
He knelt shakily on the floor to do his duty, he needed the job that bad. He was pleasantly surprised at, at least one thing. Frieda had been thoughtful enough to squirt cologne all over her crotch area and the aroma was overpowering. Then he closed his eyes tight and visualized Mrs. Wainright lying on her huge bed, her gorgeous long legs encased in the sheer black nylons that she always wore for him, splayed wantonly, her delectable cunt twitching. He wasn't in this disgusting washroom at all; he was kneeling before Mrs. Wainright's spread legs in her boudoir. The woman wasn't fat Frieda; it was his former mistress with her great, naked melons slithering around on her rib-cage ... he hadn't sucked her dear cunt in SO long ... he had to have it. In his make-believe world, George was building up to a fevered pitch of passion and his cock began to lengthen in his trousers, sliding rapidly down one pants leg like a snake leaving its lair. He grasped Frieda's broad hips in his hands as though her were holding up a leg of mutton to devour and without any preliminary licking as he usually did, he jammed his face into the incredibly wide-set crotch. So wide that the inner sides of her fat thighs barely touched his face as he rammed it home.
The gaping slit was so long that his nose went in, his mouth went in and even part of his chin. His long tongue slithered down the wide channel.
"Oh sonny ... ya do love it ... ya do love Frieda's big twat don't ya?" the fat proprietress wailed.
But that wasn't what George heard in his world of make-believe. He heard Mrs. Wainright whimpering, "Oh my darling, you do love my sweet cunny don't you precious?"
But something was strange, something was different ... her cunt was much larger than ever before. Could his big cock have stretched it that much? ... that must be it. Even her pubic hair had grown to an immense bush as he felt the wiry tendrils scratching his forehead, could he have planted the seeds with his sperm? ... what other explanation could there be?
George was ravenous, never had her cunt tasted so delicious before. He gulped a great amount of slippery wet tissues into his mouth and flicked his nose back and forth hard over her throbbing clitoris. Frieda screamed repeatedly as she jammed her massive hips forwards.
George couldn't breath ... his lungs were about to burst. He came up for air and drew it in in great gasping gulps, then dove back again with tongue extended like a fiery spear, sinking it into the inner depths of her vagina.
Frieda was going out of her mind from the electric thrills that were shooting through her groin. It was amazing, no one had ever turned her on like this ... and just a seventeen old boy; she was ecstatic. Then she let out a loud gasp as she saw it ... a great python was loose in his trousers. But it wasn't a python ... it was a long fat cock. The shape of the huge knob and thick shaft was clearly outlined by his drum-tight trousers. Around the knob area his pants were soaked so that they clung to it like wet tissue paper.
Frieda stared at it breathlessly, closing her eyes and then opening again, quite certain that it was an illusion. She was so transfixed that there was no sensation in her groin at all, as though she had suddenly been paralyzed from the waist down, despite George's frantic mouthing's. Her problem was much worse than Olga's. Her cunt was half again the size of hers and no-man had ever been able to satisfy her in her thirty four years. She never expected that one would ever be able to. Now as she looked at the giant cock thrashing about in George's trousers with the wild beating of his pulse her hopes were reborn.
She reached down and yanked George's sopping wet face from her steaming crotch. "Sonny, ya been here all this time and ya never told Frieda that ya had a cock like that ... what'n hell's the matter with ya? I could'a been puttin' him to good use?" she exclaimed as she reached down and unzipped his zipper and with some difficulty managed to get his throbbing prick out of his fly.
George looked up the length of her huge body clad in the filthy uniform, her face obscured by her huge, jutting breasts and the spell was broken. He wasn't in Mrs. Wainright's bedroom with his beloved former mistress. He was in Frieda's filthy washroom with disgusting Frieda and as the terrible realization struck him, his cock began to subside and bend where she was holding it, the huge head lowering slowly.
"Whatsamatter - WHATSAMATTER?" she screamed in dismay. Jerking mightily on his shrinking shaft in a vain attempt to resurrect his erection. "Ya were lovin' me up like ya really dug it a second ago ... what come over ya, are ya a queer or somethin'?"
"N-No Frieda," George stammered. "I guess it's this place ... it's so filthy."
"FERGET about that," Frieda shrieked. "It was filthy when ya started suckin' me, it didn't seem to bother ya then."
She tilted the drooping red knob up with her fingers and swooped down on it, slipping the soft but still sizable prick into her mouth. "Maybe if I suck ya," she gurgled as she pressed her lips into the great black mass of pubic hair on George's belly. She suctioned and her lips worked greedily, but there was no reaction, if anything George's prick shrunk even more at the hateful contact.
Finally she released him and got unsteadily to her feet, staring at his shrunken cock, hoping to see there what she had seen before. But it had vanished, vanished like a humming bird in a gale.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After that incident things were pretty miserable around Frieda's Diner for George. She nagged him incessantly and saved all of the dirty jobs for him to the delight of the rest of the kitchen help.
Once he saw Mrs. Wainright's fantastic body coming towards him on Main St. her great bust jouncing up and down under her silk frock. But she seemed to look right through him as she passed and not a word was spoken between them. George could have kicked himself for missing the first opportunity that he had had to speak to her; but he was so shook up by the vision of his beloved former mistress that he was speechless.
It was evening and he was on his way to the diner to work the night shift. He entered the diner and relieved the day man and found himself the sole person in the greasy place. There were no customers and it was Frieda's day off, which was a relief, he wouldn't have to put up with her nagging for a change.
His chance meeting with Mrs. Wainright and her obvious snub had left George very depressed at the futility of it all. Probably the fantastic creature had a new stud by now anyway. A woman like her had to have a big prick at her disposal constantly and as he had discovered on her balcony that night, a sexy woman too.
He was musing over the idea of leaving town and trying his luck elsewhere, when the rickety door of the diner opened and a woman pranced in, her sky-high stiletto heels clicking on the dirty tiled floor. George's eyes started at her feet and wandered upwards over black nylon encased legs that were meaty, but meaty in the right places, at calf and thigh, tapering delightfully into slender ankles and knees.
Regretfully his eyes left her legs and wandered up over her short satin skirt to hips that were amazingly broad and pliable as they wiggled with her walk. The crest of her hips flared dramatically inward to what had to be a tiny corseted waist. The waist was in deep shadow and he soon discovered the reason. The shadow was cast by the most monumental bust that George had ever laid eyes on. The bra that contained it must have been specially made because no standard size could possibly envelop their great jiggling mass. Two massive nipples threatened to pierce the thin satin bodice. Her dress was quite low cut and great amounts of alabaster white flesh bulged over the top, quivering like twin vats of Jell-o with her mincing steps. She stopped in front of him as his eyes left her great jutting melons and glanced at her face.
"FRIEDA!!" George shouted in disbelief. "It CAN'T be."
"Whatsamatter limpcock?" she snapped, using the nickname she had stuck on him after that terrible night in the John. "Ain't ya ever seen a gal dressed up before?"
"Yes ... but ... but you look so different," George stammered.
"Put yer eyeballs back in their sockets sonny, ya act as though ya never seen a pair a tits before," she said, her full, lips curving into a smile, her teeth startlingly white against the deep vermilion shade of lipstick that she had liberally applied. "Well maybe ya ain't ... not like these anyways.
"No Frieda ... not like those," George replied weakly as Frieda cupped the underside of her twin monsters and hoisted them upwards for George's inspection, their bulging upper halves threatening to pop right out of her gown.
"Well eat yet heart out limpcock cause ya ain't ever gonna get yer mits on these babies, they're reserved fer a man, not a kid who ain't got the right follow through," she snarled, twisting her torso away from George so that he could see their incredible jutting profile.
George stared in disbelief at the most magnificent hunk of femininity that he had ever laid eyes on. How could her loose, sloppy uniform have concealed such an amazing assortment of curves. He was too young to know what a tight dress and a tighter corset could do for a woman of Frieda's ampleness.
"W-why don't you dress this way when you're working Frieda, it ought to be good for business?" George gasped.
"I did at first but all them crumby truck drivers sat around starin' at my tits and hardly ate a thing. Now they don't pay no attention ta me and they eat like pigs ... but enough a that I got a bridge game comin' up at my house in a couple hours. I want-cha ta drive me ta my house, then take the car over ta Mike's garage fer a tune up. We'll lock up the diner, it'll only take a few minutes ... c'mon," she snapped, turning on her stilt heels and prancing towards the door, affording George an incredible view of her great, ham-like buttocks grinding together below her wasp-like waist.
"You mean to say that you play bridge Frieda?" George asked incredulously as he trailed behind.
"Whadaya think limpcock, I ain't got no culture?" she asked as George held the car door open on the driver's side and she slid her lush rear over the leather seat.
George couldn't think of any possible answer to that remark so he sat stiffly in silence as Frieda whisked the car out of the parking lot. Gradually the car became filled with the exciting scent of an expensive French perfume that was far different from the cheap cologne she had used in the men's room that night. It fairly screamed of thrashing silken legs, yawning thighs and gaping cunts. The impressionable youth became caught up in its spell. Then it struck him like a thunderbolt ... that long pink cunt topped by its amazing clitoris, set in the great mass of pubic hair that reached to the navel ... the incredibly wide-set thighs. On the old Frieda the awesome sight had been terrifying ... but on the new, the magnificent Frieda, it would be devastating. The mere thought sent his cock into a rapid expansion as it fattened and lengthened in his tight chinos.
As they drove down the highway the only sound in the car's interior was the exciting feminine sound of nylon hissing over nylon as Frieda moved her legs to work the pedals. As she did so her tight skirt slid further and further up over her meaty thighs till a sizable expanse of creamy white flesh could be seen above the jet blackness of the tops of her stockings. The dashboard light set off the lush contours of her legs beautifully as her powerful leg muscles could be seen working under the sheer dusky nylon.
George envisioned his head clamped tight between these silken thighs as he supped ravenously on her steaming crotch and his cock increased the speed of its extension down his pants leg. The same thighs that had been so horrifying, so disgusting to him before, now seemed worth a lifetime's quest. His knob, swollen beyond belief was almost to his knee now as his shaft extended, every minute detail of its shape outlined by his drum-tight chinos.
As Frieda moved her full-fleshed legs effortlessly, shining highlights danced up and down the length of her black nylons as they reflected the dashboard light. All of this, the hissing of nylon, the exposure of her lush legs, the great bust that jutted far out over the steering wheel, the memory of her fantastic crotch; it was all too much for George. As though moved by some energy not of his own making he reached out and dropped his left hand on a soft, hot thigh.
"Don't start somethin' ya can't finish limp-cock," Frieda snarled as she slapped his hand away.
There was something else sensual other than Frieda's legs illuminated by the dashboard light and she almost lost control of the car as she saw it. His fat cock, fully a foot long now, lay throbbing on the inside of his thigh, topped by the huge gland that was threatening to burst through his thin pants.
"OH BROTHER!" Frieda shrieked as she jammed her foot down on the accelerator. "Save it fer me baby ... save it fer me or yer fired."
"Don't worry Frieda," George said confidently as he stared down proudly at the monster imprisoned in his trousers. "I won't let you down this time."
George looked on breathlessly as a hand entered the spotlight on center stage and entwined its long fingers around his thick shaft at its base. Then like a white spider crawling up a tree trunk it worked its way up the length of his cock, testing its hardness, its incredible length.
"It feels like it's made of steel," Frieda exclaimed as her fingers tested the immensity of his swollen head, "and so HUGE."
"We're both pretty well endowed Frieda," George said as he reached out with both hands and cupped the underside of her giant bust. "As they say, it's as though we were made for each other."
His frantic activities with Carol Wainright had temporarily tempered George's craving for big breasts, but now as his fingers sunk into the softness of the biggest melons he had ever seen, the fetish roared back into his psyche at double its former strength.
As Frieda jerked on his fat cock to make certain that it maintained its erection, George jammed a hand under her taut bodice and was amazed to discover the giant orbs' jutting perfection wasn't due to the uplifting qualities of a bra; she wasn't wearing one. He grasped one naked monster in both hands and yanked it out of her bodice to the accompaniment of the sound of ripping fabric.
George gasped at the sight of a huge aureole that had the shape and size of a red tea cup, giving the effect of breast mounted on breast. Centered therein, a giant nipple gleamed redly in the dim light. He twisted the great melon towards him so easily it might have been a plastic bag filled with melted butter and jammed the great appendage between his lips, his lips curling around its contours.
"Oh BABY," Frieda wailed, as she wiggled her lush buttocks excitedly on the car seat. "That feels so GOOD-D-D, I'm so sensitive there."
As George sunk his nose deep into the softness of her breast, his lips working greedily on her great nipple, he felt the car come to a halt. Looking up he was startled to discover that they had stopped in front of a house of impressive proportions, obviously in the best part of town.
"Frieda," he exclaimed, letting the swollen nipple slip from the hot confines of his mouth," I thought we were going to your place."
"This is my place limpco ... oh I forgot, I certainly can't call you that anymore," she giggled as she turned off the ignition and dimmed the lights.
Then George noticed another thing. Her voice, it wasn't the same, it had taken on a refined tone. And her diction, it was faultless. He had to look again to make certain that it was truly Frieda.
"Frieda ... your voice ... it's different."
"Oh you've noticed, I'm afraid that this is my real voice my deah," she chuckled as they left the car and walked up the walk to the house, she towering over him, leaning forwards a bit so that she could continue her tireless massaging of his great cock.
"But why Frieda?"
"Oh it's all part of my act at the diner. I found that I had to sink to the crude level of the truck drivers. I had to be ... well sort of a pal to them, someone who could speak to them in their own language so that they wouldn't feel awkward with me."
"But Frieda ... this house, surely you can't afford ... "
"Oh yes I can my deah, you have no idea what a gold mine that dreadful place is. Haven't you ever thought about how jammed it becomes at meal times. Why it has enabled me to have a place at Acapulco and a skiing lodge in Vermont, besides my home here in town."
"Frieda you're incredible," George gasped, as with his eyes glued to the great jiggling orb that was still hanging naked out of her bodice, he stumbled over the step in front of her doorway.
George knew that he had found it again, the feathered nest that he had had with Mrs. Wainright, only this time it was doubled in spades. By comparison she paled to the magnificent voluptuousness of Frieda. And this time there would not be the complications of a husband and daughter.
"Incidentally my deah; please don't refer to me as Frieda anymore, except in the diner of course. My real name is Helen ... Helen Vanarsdale."
George smiled confidently to himself. He didn't ever intend to have to work in that greasy place again; not if he played his cards right. He knew that his trump card, his unmatchable cock, would take care of that. He could tell by the way she reluctantly let go of it and fumbled nervously in her purse for the house key that she craved it in the worst way. And it wasn't as though he was merely insidiously scheming about his future in a detached way. Far from it, George wanted to fuck this incredible hunk of femininity just as desperately as she obviously wanted him to.
"DAMN-DAMN-DAMN, I can't get the key in the lock," she wailed, her hand shaking so much that the simple task became an impossible one.
"Here Helen, let me," George exclaimed, taking the key from her shaking fingers. But his fingers were shaking too and it was several frustrating moments before he was able to open the door and before he did she had unzipped his fly and hauled his fevered prong out into the cool night air.
"Oh my deah what a MAGNIFICENT cock you have," she shrieked as she sank down before him in the open doorway, her knees striking the door jam, sending a pain shooting through her that she was completely oblivious to in her delirium. Her mouth, much wider than Olga's had been, opened wide as she grasped his fat shaft and jammed the huge red gland inside. With an expertness born of long practice, she let her teeth slide along the ripe plum, peeling the foreskin back with them.
"Inside ... let's get inside," she gurgled, her mouth stuffed to the bursting point with his giant knob.
George stepped backwards onto a deep piled rug as she scrambled along on her knees, pushing him into the room. Once inside she reached blindly behind her and slammed the door shut. Helen continued to savor her delicious mouthful as she reached up and loosened his belt and as she did the chinos slid down to his feet.
Helen pulled back for a quick look, his slippery red gland leaving her ravenous mouth with a loud plopping sound. She sat back on her haunches awestruck by the immensity of his private parts, his giant cock curving like a great scimitar from its nest of curly black pubic hair, its swollen knob glistening redly in the warm light cast by a small table lamp. Hanging half way to his knees were two coconut sized balls. They were swaying in rhythm to the rapid beat of George's pulse as was his cock.
With a wild look in her eyes, Helen crawled down beneath his splayed legs, supporting herself by her hands, awkwardly tilting her head back as far as it would go. She raised and lipped a mouthful of loose, hair-flecked skin and then gulped in as much of the heavy ball-cock as she could, rolling the mouthful of flesh from cheek to cheek as she pressed it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
As Helen continued to lave and torture George's tenderest part, her hands were active up above, jerking mightily on his shaft, bringing it to an erection the size of which George had never seen before.
Finally she let the egg-shaped gland slip from her full lips, her pointed tongue darting out to give it one last caress as she wiggled it upwards through the dense forest of black hair at his crotch and out onto the smoothness of his fat shaft.
She traced a torturous path outwards towards his giant red gland, following a corded blue vein, thrilling at the feel of it throbbing against the tip of her tongue. She licked with maddening slowness, saturating the massive body of his shaft with her saliva. Finally her tongue burrowed into the piled up foreskin just below the crest of George's knob and she nipped it playfully with her sharp front teeth.
This was no woman anxious to please her man; willing to do anything to bring them closer together at the expense of doing something that went against her natural instincts. Helen was a wanton sexpot who had always enjoyed doing this to a man. She liked the taste of a man; she loved the taste of his orgasm. Since she had never found a man with a penis large enough to bring her to fulfillment, she had turned to this as a substitute.
Now for the first time in her life she had found a penis formidable enough to follow through with a hearty fucking after her preliminary oral stimulation. The mere thought of it caused her cunt to twitch and as though with a mind of its own, hunger for the stuffing of his fat cock.
Helen leaped to her feet and literally tore her dress off of her great mass of curves. It was brand new, purchased just the day before at the most expensive boutique in town, but she didn't care, nothing else mattered but having the soul filling action of his giant instrument.
George gasped at the vision of her giant orbs swaying pendulously on her rib-cage, overlapping a goodly portion of a corset of fine black lace embellished with numerous red satin bows. The soft flesh of her plump legs billowed over the tops of her dark-toned stockings, giving the impression that they were imprisoned by the taut nylon. Her mid-section was as he had remembered it, her long legs set incredibly wide apart to accommodate her great nest of curly black hair and the long, pink cunt.
She let him savor the sight of her for just a moment, then with a cry she threw herself onto the rug and lay on her back, splaying her silken limbs wide and waving them in wanton invitation.
"C'mon baby ... give me that fat cock of yours," she wailed as her buttocks writhed in aimless patterns on the rug, her cunt gaping wide.
George fell to his knees between her legs and gave his huge cock to her eager hands. With an incredible burst of energy Helen jammed her hips and belly to his, skewing his huge prong to the very root of her saturated vagina.
"OH-H-H ... OH-H-H," she screamed. "It's so BIG-G."
"Oh you like Georgie's cock do you ... it fills you doesn't it baby," George moaned pridefully, certain now that this was a new experience for her.
"YES-YES it fills me. Now MOVE it ... FUCK ME HARD!!" she shrieked, her gorgeous buttocks vibrating about on the rug as though they were in the grip of a reducing machine.
Somewhere in the course of his affairs with Olga and Mrs. Wainright George had learned to fuck and fuck properly and that was what he proceeded to do as he drew his cock back, the great head torturing with sweet pleasure pains the slippery walls of her vagina. To the accompaniment of violent screams of passion Helen raised her hips from the rug to receive his jarring upward thrust. Her vagina sucked hotly at his giant tool as it retraced its torturous path.
Then with his balls beating out a bongo beat as they smacked against her lush buttocks he began to fuck her fast and hard. As he did he supported himself with one hand and with the other he hoisted a monstrous melon and sucked as much of the great nipple and its surrounding aureole as he could get into his eager mouth, chewing and tongue lashing the delectable flesh.
Their actions became wilder and more frantic as they both felt the first involuntary jerk that forewarned the approaching surge of orgasm. Suddenly, their already shattered senses were shattered even more by the loud ring of the doorbell directly over their heads.
"OH NO-O-O-O," Helen screamed. "I forgot all about my bridge date."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Get into that coat closet and close the door, I'll have them take their coats to my bedroom," Helen gasped as she snatched her tattered dress up from the rug and ran up the stairs. George was in a terrible state from the nerve shattering experience of his orgasm having been cut off just as it was about to surge up from his balls, but he couldn't resist staring at Helen's meaty black nyloned legs as they flashed up the stairs and her huge naked buttocks working together.
He opened the closet door and jumped inside, letting out a scream as his extended cock struck something hard. A set of golf club crashed to the floor. He turned around and closed the door.
Helen dashed into her bedroom and threw open the window. "Girls I'm terribly sorry but I had trouble with my car, I'll be down in a few moments."
Shortly thereafter, Helen descended the stairs, her massive assortment of curves held tightly in a white silk frock that looked as if it were made of wet tissue paper. The short-short mini skirt stood off in delightful contrast with the ink blackness of her hose, but it wasn't the sort of outfit one might select for an evening of bridge with three of the town's top socialites, she hadn't had the time to worry about color schemes.
"My deah you look simply ravishing," a busty blond said as Helen opened the door, her face flushed from all of her recent efforts. "I don't know when I've seen you look so lovely."
"You certainly do Helen," a tremendously tall brunette swathed in mink exclaimed. "You have such marvelous color."
"Your dress is so divine my deah," a lush redhead said. "And your black nylons go so excitingly with it."
"I know it's wicked to wear black hose with white Grace, but that's the way I feel tonight," Helen giggled. "Come on in girls."
"Oh DO-O you now?" the curvaceous blond exclaimed, a gleam coming into her eyes as they narrowed perceptibly. "You know Helen I never cease to be amazed by your bust; we girls certainly do envy you. Our husbands simply drool every time they see you."
"I'll say they do," Grace exclaimed as the foursome walked into the living room and took their places at the bridge table, three pairs of eyes glued to Helen's great bust as it went jiggling by. "Mine even goes to the extent of giving me a good jazzing after he's seen you at a party, he's so worked up."
"Oh does Roger do that too," the sexy blond exclaimed. "I always have the feeling that when Harold closes his eyes and chews on my breasts he's imagining that they're yours Helen; you're not very good for a girl's morale you know."
"Doesn't that beat all," the willowy brunette said as she shrieked with laughter. "My old bugger Tad does the same damn thing. One time when he was as passionate as it's possible for the poor old soul to get, he mumbled 'oh Helen'."
They all, including Helen, shrieked with laughter at this and then the blond dish turned to her hostess and giggled, "Well one thing you've done for us Helen, we all would have had a lot less fucks if you hadn't been around."
When the laughter finally subsided the women turned their attentions to bridge as Grace began to deal out the cards. While she was dealing Helen left the room and returned with a pitcher of martinis and filled a glass for each of them.
Within earshot in the closet George was flabbergasted. He had opened the door just enough for him to see the four women in the living room. They all had one thing in common. Each in her own way was breathtakingly desirable; all with expensively coiffed hairdos; all exquisitely gowned. Their expensive French perfumes mingled and permeated the entire first floor, wafting its way through the partially open closet door to drive George to a sensual frenzy. It was the contradiction of their obvious fine background and good breeding, as opposed to gutter-like talk that astounded him. Truck drivers at the diner rarely sunk any lower. It was George's initiation into the fact that sex and sex talk isn't relegated to the lower classes alone. And it was also his initiation into the fact that being a peeping torn created a sexual stimulation in him that was unique, a different sensation than the act itself.
As he watched the four women play their hands of bridge, George gradually had the impression that there was something in the offing other than bridge. It started with little things, such as when Grace's bronze hued stockinged leg brushed against the tall brunette's black net covered one. Instead of pulling back Grace pressed her leg harder and moved it up and down in a caressing motion. Both women glanced at one another under the hooding security of long, heavily mascaraed lashes and a trace of a smile turned the corners of their mouths upwards, their eyes quickly returning to their cards but the legs remaining pressed together.
This simple act seemed terribly exciting to George and his cock which was dangling down, nestling between his balls in the open fly that he had neglected to close, now began to fatten and rise once again.
The martinis flowed and as they did the talk became more intimate, the touching of female flesh more intimate in direct proportion to the number of martinis consumed.
"Wouldn't you like to pick something out Terry," Helen cooed as she leaned forwards, holding up a tray of hors d'ovres she had just brought in from the kitchen. "They're really delicious."
As she held the tray, Helen's great quivering melons that were threatening to burst over the top of her silk frock, were just scant inches from Terry's face.
"Yes my deah I think I'll have a boobie, it looks the most delicious by far," Terry giggled tipsily as she plunged both of her tiny hands into Helen's bodice which was gaping open due to the manner in which she was leaning forwards. The hands disappeared into the soft white flesh as though Helen's breast were made of soap lather.
"Well babykins, it seems as though you're interested in fun and games other than bridge," Helen giggled as she put the tray down and squirmed her great buttocks onto Terry's lap. "Take one out I'm certain the others won't mind, they seem to have a game of their own planned."
It was true, this had been the signal that they all had seemed to be waiting for as Grace reached down and slid her fingers, capped by long, carmine lacquered nails upwards over the tall brunette's black net hosed leg, carrying her skirt along with it. The brunette in turn reached out and wrapped her long fingers around Grace's formidable melons.
In the cramped confines of the closet George was going wild with excitement over the wanton turn in the bridge game. As Grace's hand moved upwards til it disappeared from view under the folds of the brunette's skirt at her crotch, George gasped at eight of the loveliest, the longest pair of legs that he had ever seen, all the more alluring in their taut covering of black mesh hose. Her slim white thighs shook spasmodically as George could see Grace's fingers worming their way under a tiny pair of white panties through which a great mass of black pubic hair could be seen.
As Grace slipped a carmine tipped index finger into her hot cunt, the brunette shook her head from side to side and moaned in obvious ecstasy.
Terry had both of Helen's gigantic melons out of her dress now and was kneading and twisting them cruelly as she alternately kissed the great sausage-like nipples back and forth, smack-smack-smack, as though she couldn't savor one without immediately longing to taste the other.
"Oh BABY," Helen wailed as she pounded a closed fist on the bridge table. "There's no-one who can suck my tits the way you can ... but wait a moment, I have something tastier for you to suck."
Helen scrambled off of Terry's lap screeching, "C'mon girls, it's high time we stripped for action."
As George watched the four frantic women get to their feet and rapidly disrobe, clothes flying all over the room, he realized that this wasn't the first time these four had had an evening of bridge together. He wondered if the three women's husbands knew what went on. He wondered why they bothered with all of the amenities in the beginning when they knew what would eventually happen; all undoubtedly filled with a mad craving for the action to start. Perhaps it was this sense of anticipation that made the final act more flavorful.
His rampant cock was in a state of full erection now, his rough hands cupping his fiery red gland, massaging the oil that was flowing freely from its slit into the velvety surfaces. He rubbed a finger on its undersides over the excruciatingly sensitive tiny tendons that were attached to his foreskin.
Helen was on her back on the rug now, her stiletto heeled feet drawn up tight pressing into her buttocks, her silken knees splayed as wide as they could go. Terry had grabbed a cushion from the couch and slid it under Helen's rear to give her easier access to the steaming cunt that she craved every exasperating moment that she was apart from her beloved. She was lying prone on her stomach between Helen's wide-spread legs, licking her lips and staring at the great gaping cunt and its massive profusion of curly black pubic hair, like a gourmet about to savor a delectable meal.
As she stared her long pink tongue began to dart in and out of her mouth like a rattler preparing to strike and Helen seeing this, tried to wiggle her lush rear along the rug towards that darting tongue.
"OH TERRY," Helen wailed. "Give me the only tongue that has ever really satisfied me ... GIVE it to ME-E-E-E-E-EE!!!"
Her last word was extended, ending in a shriek of delirium because Terry swooped down and skewered it deep into Helen's vagina. Helen released a series of spine-tingling screams as her woman lover supped ravenously on her boiling cunt.
In the closet George was mesmerized; he was getting a lesson in the art of cunt sucking from the lips of an expert and he made a mental note of everything she did. The way she used her rather aquiline nose to advantage, jamming it deep into the upper part of Helen's vagina and rubbing it vigorously against the slippery walls. The way she used her fingers above her nose rubbing and pinching the swollen clitoris; all the while her tongue and lips worked frantically deep in the vagina.
George tore his eyes from the wanton pair and glanced at Grace and the willowy brunette who were rolling about on the rug a few feet away in the violent throes of passion. They were in the traditional position of Eros with each one's face glued to the other's crotch. Unlike Helen who had her lovely limbs spread wide affording George a generous view of Terry's devouring mouth, these two had their thighs clasped around each other's head and George could only judge by their constant moaning and shrieking that tremendous activity was going on.
Helen began to hop her lush buttocks about on the rug and toss her head from side to side as orgasm approached, screaming, "I'm almost there baby ... here I COME-E-E-E-E!! ... that's it, don't stop, oh PLEASE don't stop baby, remember it's good to the last drop ... oh my sweet, adorable lover girl."
As Helen and Terry lay on the rug in a state of exhaustion, Terry slowly licking up the little droplets of passion from Helen's pubic hair, it was evident to George that the other two were fast approaching orgasm too as they screamed into each other's gaping cunts, the hollow sound reverberating around the room.
"I'm almost there are you?" the brunette moaned.
"NO-NO ... not quite, wait for me baby ... work a little harder," Grace gasped.
The brunette jammed her face deeper into Grace's steaming crotch, twisting her head from side to side.
"NOW ... NOW I'm ready ... OH BABY-Y-Y," Grace screamed as the torrent was unleashed. The brunette screamed at precisely the same moment as she experienced the delicious ecstasy of orgasm ... the bridge game was over.
CHAPTER NINE
As soon as the foursome was able to catch their collective breaths they rose and sat down side by side on an immense couch, all of them lighting up cigarettes. They still wore only their battle dress of wispy garter belts, shimmering nylons and stiletto heels.
George had thought it odd that four women of good taste who were so exquisitely gowned would go against the dictates of fashion that said that high heels were pass�. It was obvious now that they wore them for their sexual value alone.
"Girls I simply must go and put on for you a simply divine pair of opera length black kid gloves that my sister brought me from Paris," Helen said as she rose and walked towards the stairs, all of them staring at her meaty buttocks moving against one another, the long black garter straps that led to her taut black nylons alternately tightening and cutting into their softness, then loosening with the little mincing steps she was forced to take because of her sky-high heels. "I thought you might like to see them before we indulge in ... er ... another bridge game."
"Oh they sound exciting Helen ... but please hurry," Terry exclaimed as Helen mounted the stairs, twisting her torso slightly so that they all had a breathtaking view of her monstrous melons flopping about on her rib-cage.
"I can hardly wait to see her girls," Terry whispered excitedly as Helen disappeared from their view. "Last month at the Hammond's house-warming she was wearing long white kids. She had saturated them with her best perfume and as I stood talking to her the aroma of her perfume mixed with that divine scent of warm leather just drove me wild. She took pity on me, seeing the state that I was in and led me upstairs. We locked ourselves in the powder room and she had my dress off practically before the door closed."
"Oh you lucky thing," Grace exclaimed. "You must have been SO excited."
"Oh I was Grace ... I simply can't tell you how much. You know how much we all crave to make love to that fantastic body of hers, well just as this evening, I've always contented myself with just that. Her fantastic pussy and that great mass of black pubic hair is all that I need to completely satisfy me."
"Oh she is unbelievable there isn't she," the willowy brunette shrieked in her excitement, her long legs jerking spasmodically as she dipped an index finger capped by a long carmine lacquered nail into her cunt and wiggled it about frantically. "But do go on my deah, this sounds terribly exciting."
"Oh it was, it REALLY was ... anyway in all of the times that we had been together I was always the lover, she never touched me, but this night I sensed something different in her attitude."
"Perhaps it was something in the drink," Grace whispered.
"I thought about that Grace. I even called the Hammond's the next day to find out the ingredients she put into her punch but the bitch would not tell me, she claimed it was social top-secret."
"Oh forget about all these trivialities, she'll be down soon; I want to hear the rest of the story," the brunette snapped.
"Well girls she took off my bra, unhooked my garter belt and let it hang down by the straps. Then she dropped to her knees before me ... "
"She didn't?" the other two shrieked simultaneously.
"Yes she did girls and believe me I was delirious with anticipation. But that was nothing after what I saw her do next."
"What was that?" the two exclaimed breathlessly, as Grace too now had her index finger deep in her hot cunt.
"She sat back on her haunches and began to flick out her tongue."
"What's so unusual about that?" the brunette said, somewhat deflated.
"It wasn't the act my deah ... it was the TONGUE. I know you won't believe me but she has the longest damn tongue in captivity, longer than most men's cocks."
"OH NO-O-O-O," both women screamed.
"Oh-h-h YES," Helen giggled as she detected the envy in both women's voices. "I simply went out of my mind then imagining what that tongue could do to me."
"You MUST have," Grace exclaimed, wiggling her finger violently in her cunt. "Go on ... GO ON."
"She began by licking my thighs, every inch of them, getting them all wet with her saliva. Then she moved into my forest primeval and gave that as thorough a going over as I have ever had, at the same time she was caressing me with her gloved hands, you know how marvelous kid can feel on your bare flesh; squeezing my boobies, pinching my nipples, I was going crazy."
"Oh I know, it's simply divine. My old man insists that I wear mine to bed with him. He's too old to be very virile, but when I grab that little prick of his in my gloved hands and jerk it a few times he's like an eighteen year old marine," the brunette exclaimed. "But go on. It takes a long time to get opera length kids on properly, but it's getting to be a long time ... HURRY."
"Then she began to lick the lips of my vagina, she really gave them a tongue bath, but I was almost out of my mind I wanted that long, hot tongue in my pussy so bad. She lathered my open slit with the tip of her tongue, up and down, up and down. Then she wiggled it between the open lips and rammed it home ... girls I wish I knew the proper words to describe the sensation as she began to whip that long tongue in and out of my pussy, I almost went through the roof."
Grace and the brunette were gasping for breath now as they worked their fingers in their cunts, frantic with excitement over the lewd description.
"Girls, never did any man create the sensations in my cunt with his prick as Helen did with her tongue. It was mobile, not stiff and straight like a man. She was able to seek out the sensitive nerve endings to passion that were raw and open. Her knowledge about the structure of the insides of our vaginas is incredible."
Inside the closet, George couldn't believe what he was both seeing and hearing. Their sexual orgy had been bad enough, but George had heard about lesbian activities and he wasn't too surprised by that. But this latest incident was too much for his youthful senses to comprehend. One gorgeous socialite relating an obscene story, while two other equally lovely socialites masturbated. To what depths of depravity could these women sink to? Despite his mental censoring of their wanton activities, George opened the closet door a trifle more to make certain that he didn't miss a thing; his own sex juices were as close to the boiling over point as theirs.
"HURRY Terry, Helen will be here any moment," Grace whispered. She now had three fingers, side by side in her cunt, working them avidly.
"My hips jerked and she could tell that I was approaching orgasm and her long tongue became like a skewered python in my cunt and with a feeling that I couldn't possibly describe I came."
"EE-A-A-A," screamed the brunette. "So did I."
"OH-H-H-H so did I," Grace wailed.
The only thing that kept George from joining them as he yanked on his cock, was that Terry got up from the couch as soon as she completed her story and approached the closet saying. "Girls, I heard that Helen just received a black diamond mink from one of her admirers. I'm going to take a peek."
George was frantic ... Terry was coming to the closet. He frantically tried to stuff his immense prick into his fly but to no avail, it was just too huge. Suddenly the dark closet was lit up by the hall light as the door swung open. George tried to hide his cock by placing his hands over it, but it was like a sparrow trying to hide a Titan missile with its wings.
"GIRLS," Terry screamed after a few moments of speechless staring. "There's a young man in here with what has to be the biggest penis in the entire world."
"Does that include the Congo?" Grace giggled.
"I'm not joking girls ... come and see for yourself."
The two women on the couch scrambled to their feet and made a dash into the hall. Two more mouths dropped open to join Terry's. They heard stiletto heels clicking on the stairs and they all turned as though in a trance to see Helen coming down the stairs smoothing out the tiny wrinkles that had formed at elbow and wrist in her armpit length black kid gloves. She made a breathtaking picture as her giant naked orbs bounced up and down gelatinously with her steps, her black gloves and stockings shimmering in the lamplight.
Under ordinary circumstances they would have gasped at the sight, but they had all just uttered their gasp for the evening at the vision of the biggest prick any of them had ever laid eyes on.
"Er ... a ... I guess in all the excitement I forgot to introduce you girls to George ... he ... he works in my diner," Helen stammered as she saw the situation.
"Well Georgie, wouldn't you rather come and work for me in my nice clean home rather than that disreputable diner ... my name is Florence ... how do you do." The willowy brunette reached out a hand and shook the great red gland atop George's cock as she introduced herself.
"And me Georgie," Grace said hurriedly as she did likewise. "You can work for me anytime ... and boy would I keep you working."
"Ditto for me Georgie," Terry exclaimed as she did the same, but instead of politely releasing him as the others had done, she continued to pump his great cock up and down vigorously.
"Don't you always think there's something queer about anyone who holds your hand too long when they're shaking it Grace?" Florence giggled. "I always feel there's hidden meaning behind it."
"There's no hidden meaning about the way I feel you lanky broad," Terry snapped, tipsy from the martinis she had consumed. "I want this cock and I want it BAD."
"Just because you discovered him doesn't give you any claim on him you bitch," Florence screamed as she grabbed a handful of Terry's blond hair and yanked her backwards till she was forced to release George's big rod.
"Wait a minute girls, there's no sense fighting over him," Helen shouted above the angry words. "As you can see there's plenty enough to go around; come on Georgie let's bring that big fat cock the girls seem to be so interested in into the living room, shall we?"
She grabbed his great shaft in her kid encased palm just below his foreskin, squeezing mightily til the great, slippery head bulged even more and turned purplish, getting the message through to George that he had better not try to escape the obvious frantic desires of the three socialites.
It would have been a bizarre sight indeed to a fortunate onlooker as Helen led him thusly into the living room, followed in single file by the three female guests in their exciting black lingerie.
"Isn't his cock INCREDIBLE Florence," Grace gasped as they trooped along behind him. "I just can't wait to get my mouth on that huge knob ... I hope Helen doesn't hurt him. She must be gripping him terribly hard ... have you noticed now the head is turning purple?"
"You don't know much about pricks do you Grace," Florence said knowingly. "It's the toughest muscle on a man's body; it's almost impossible to hurt it ... now if she were leading him along by his balls ... "
The tension that had been building up between the three women was shattered by their peals of laughter.
"Gosh if you three don't beat all," Helen said solemnly. "Here we have what we four have always craved; we've discussed it so many times. What we found lacking in your husbands and my boy friends ... a long, fat cock. To me it's a serious matter, especially with my own particular problem that you all know about. And what do you do when we find it?
"Of course you're right Helen," Florence said meekly as she stared lustfully at George's great, pendulous balls as they slapped together with his steps, directly below his tight buttocks. Because of his loosened belt and open fly, George's chinos had slipped down to his ankles causing Helen to slacken her pace so that he could shuffle along. We won't poke any more fun at him."
"No he'll do all of the poking with that huge prick of his," Terry giggled.
"There you go again," Helen snapped as the fivesome stopped before the card table. "Can't you all see that he's merely a boy and rather frightened by your obscene talk? Now let that be the last of it or I'll kick you all out of here and save him for myself ... as a matter of fact maybe that's what I should ... "
"Oh no you don't Helen," Florence snapped, as the other two guests stood up defiantly, subconsciously electing the willowy brunette as spokesman for the group. "We all know that he works for you but just remember the three of us have one HELL of a lot more money than you do. We might just hire him as a lovely stud and leave you out of it altogether. With what he's got jutting out there between his legs he need never do a lick of work again."
As the four women bickered over him, the way treasure hunters usually do after discovering a lost treasure, George felt a strange feeling of raw power seeping into the marrow of his bones. Electric ripples flowed over his knotted muscles. He wasn't a frightened boy; far from it. Confidence and a feeling of complete domination of women flowed over him like a great tidal wave. Not just these four women but all women. He knew now for sure that he need never work in that greasy dump again.
However it wasn't as though he were taking the situation lightly. His emotions were as aroused to as much of a fever pitch as theirs and he could hardly wait for them to devour him as he knew they would. But first and foremost the light that flickered like a beacon in his brain was the knowledge that his was to be a lust filled life from now on minus the disadvantages of work. It was incredible, fabulous, amazing. The life of luxury that he had sought so desperately ever since his firing by Mrs. Wainright was now on the tip of his fingers; or rather the tip of his cock.
CHAPTER TEN
"Girls-girls," Helen shouted above the hub-hub as her three guests were arguing amongst themselves now. "Let's just stop all of this bickering. George is standing here with this beautiful erection and despite his youth it can't last forever."
"You're so right Helen," Florence exclaimed ... "girls let's undress him first."
With lots of giggling the four women quickly unbuttoned George's thin cotton shirt and slipped it over his broad shoulders. Suddenly all of the giggling ceased as they stared awestruck at the magnificent specimen that his nakedness presented. He was shorter than the four women but his powerful body was beautifully put together. The twin halves of his chest were finely etched, twitching with excitement, while underneath his washboard-like abdominals rippled with every movement he made. Centered in the lush black nest of his pubic hair his huge cock jutted slightly upwards, curving earthwards as though bent by the great weight of his glistening red knob. Long strands of oily spittle dangled down from its gaping slit, flapping about with the rapid beat of his pulse, seemed to make it all the more menacing. George stood proud, his powerful legs set wide apart so that they could get a good image of his great semen filled balls as they hung down in their delicate sacks of hair-flecked skin, almost to his knees. His small, compact body was completely overpowered by the massiveness of his cock and balls.
George seemed nervous, frightened, but he was feigning this. Actually, he was going silently out of his mind for these stunning sex-pots to go to work on him. He felt like grabbing his fat shaft in his hands, waving it at them and telling them to come and get it, but he knew that for this evening at least he must play the part of the submissive male.
"Good heavens the way his cock and balls are they look like a wheeled cannon ready to shoot," Terry exclaimed, finally breaking the silence.
"YES-YES, Florence gasped. "But don't you notice something different beside their size ... don't you notice the fresh, boyish quality about them; they seem as delicate and clean as a baby's ... oh sucking him off is going to be simply heaven. Not like sucking our husbands' gnarled old hairy cocks."
"George, these girls are getting so hot for your fat cock that they might eat you right up as you stand there." Helen laughed, then in a sterner voice. "Get up on the table boy."
Obediently George walked to the table, shaking his slim, boyish hips just a trifle which magnified itself into a great thrashing about, back and forth, of his great prong, flinging clear strands of spittle onto Helen's black nyloned thigh. Immediately Florence was on her knees avidly licking the thin strings from the sheer hose before they could absorb it.
"M-m-m-m ... if that's any indication how he's going to taste he'll be delicious," Florence murmured. "As though giving thanks for the opportunity that she had afforded her, Florence jammed her face into Helen's humid crotch and there were wet, sucking sounds as Helen ground her great mid-section into the lovely brunette's face, whimpering her assent. Florence lingered at this for only a few moments, whereas under ordinary circumstances it would have taken a team of horses to drag her away. She scrambled to her feet to make certain that she wasn't done out of the meal fit for kings that was in the offing.
Helen placed her exquisitely gloved palms on George's muscular shoulders and pressed firmly back till he lay prone on the shaky table, his legs dangling over at the knees, his great shaft jutting so far skywards that it was almost at the frantic women's eye-level. The clear sex juices were flowing freely now from the wide slit atop his apple-like knob now, dribbling down over the heavily veined shaft to mingle with the soft black hairs at its base.
"Girls," Grace exclaimed. "He appears to be calm enough but look at the way his cock is waving back and forth; his pulse is racing like mad ... why he's as excited as we are."
And George was excited, nearly out of his mind in fact with a craving to have the bee-stung, lipstick coated lips of any of these fine aristocratic females on his cock. He was playing the part of the subjugated male to the hilt but it was becoming increasingly hard to do so as they just stood there admiring the incredible masculinity of him as if awaiting some signal for action to start. Finally it became just too much for him to bear and he blurted out, "C'mon ladies have a heart."
"Oh our little boy wants our little bridge group to suck his cock for him, does he?" Terry giggled, licking her lips till they gleamed redly. "What do you say Helen, you're the hostess?"
"It would be impossible for us to take him one at a time girls because we could never agree in a million years who should go first," Helen chuckled. "The only fair way is for us to take him as we stand now, me at his feet, Florence by his cock, Grace by his chest and Terry by his head."
"That's no fair, Florence has the best part," Grace and Terry shouted simultaneously.
"Well then why don't we let Terry start first at his head for a few moments, then the rest of us on down the line, but I reserve the right to be the only one to touch him with my hands, he'll just love the sensation of my new kids on his bare flesh, it should pay dividends for the rest of you. After he comes we can change positions."
The others reluctantly agreed to this as it made sense. Terry began by leaning over and licking the side of his face that was nearest to her, a simple enough gesture in itself, but it foretold of unbelievable sensations that awaited him. Her tongue darted into his ear and she laved it into slippery wetness. Then as she left the ear and glued her lush lips to George's, her tongue forcing its way between his teeth, Grace leaned forwards and licked the area around his boyish nipple till it was saturated with her saliva. She took the rose budlike tidbit between her lips and nipped it with her sharp teeth.
Now it was time for the piece de resistance as Helen reached out and captured George's frantically waving shaft in tenacious gloved fingers and held it stationary for Florence. The brunette opened her mouth into a wide O and leaning forwards held it a scant inch from the throbbing knob, breathing in the sexy aroma of it, savoring the incredible tension that she was creating as the other women held their breaths. Then like a lizard snatching a fly up with his rapier-like tongue, hers darted out and penetrated the half inch long slit, tickling it madly, then withdrawing almost immediately.
"Stop fuckin' around and go down on him ya bitch," Helen snapped impatiently, reverting to her "Frieda" character in the heat of her excitement.
"We didn't set any time limit my deah," Florence said haughtily as she began rub her face over his dripping cock-head. She continued to rub her face lovingly over the velvety surfaces. Occasionally when the great red plum came near her mouth she would flick her tongue out and lap up the delectable fluid that was running down the cleft on its underside. It seemed to her as though the cleft was created by ages of cock drippings, like a river set in a chasm of its own making. But it couldn't be, this magnificent stud was only seventeen years old.
Her mind wandered aimlessly as she savored the scent of his juicy cock, enjoyed the sensation of its wild throbbing against her cheeks. The other women were becoming increasingly angry over the willowy brunette's obvious delaying tactics and Florence sensing this, frightened of losing her pole position to one of the others, jammed lips that were slippery with his oil down onto his huge cock-head. She tightened her lips as though it were a giant red grape and she was trying to split it.
George groaned with intense pleasure-pain, feeling as though she was going to split it as her lips approached his knob's widest diameter at the flaring ridge where it was joined to his shaft. Finally with an intense effort she worked her lips over the ridge and they snapped down over the edge onto his foreskin, locking the great knob in her mouth as securely as if she had used a larger bolt. Then the room was filled with wet sucking sounds as she sloshed the giant knob around in her mouth with her tongue.
"Go Baby GO!!" George wailed as he pounded his clenched fists on the table, cards flying all over the room.
And Florence really did go; she tried desperately to bob her head up and down but found that this was impossible because she couldn't force her frantic lips back up onto his huge knob. She contended herself with rolling her head from side to side and lashing the captured giant with her tongue, her teeth nibbling away at his bunched foreskin.
Now it was Helen's turn to join the act. She removed her gloved hands that had been jerking his fat shaft and cupped the great, hairy balls that were resting on the card table. She squeezed them between her kid encased fingers as though she were squeezing the rubber bulb on an old fashioned auto horn.
Then she thought of a better way. She released his balls for the moment as George groaned in protest, reaching down to try and replace her hands where they had been. Avoiding his grasp she grabbed his legs and pulled him towards her, the three guests muttering angrily through well stuffed mouths as they were forced to slide along with him. When his ass reached the edge of the table his balls dropped over the edge and bounced up and down like two yo-yos. Then she released him for this was what she wanted, dropping to her knees and capturing his pendulous orbs once again. She licked her lips in anticipation as she contented herself for the moment with playing with them. Raising them up till they were horizontal to the ground, then releasing them so that they swung wildly back and forth like two giant pendulums; clapping them together and rolling them about in her saturated gloved palms; squeezing them together so that a deep cleavage was formed between.
"My goodness," Helen giggled as she wormed her long tongue between the cleavage. "I can't remember when I've seen hairy breasts before, it's rather exciting ladies."
"Now ... slurp ... who is ... making ... slurp ... jokes?" Florence gurgled through a completely stuffed, wildly sucking mouth.
"But really my deah I'm not joking one bit. George has a lovely pair of hairy tits down here. You'll find out when it's your turn at this position."
The incredible masculinity of his monstrous balls was really getting to Helen and she could kid no longer. She opened her extremely large mouth wide and gulped a ball in its entirety into its hot confines, at the same time continuing to toy with its mate, squeezing, pinching, yanking it gently down till it was half way to the floor.
"For GOD'S sake hurry Florence," Terry screamed as she raised her lips from her soul kissing for a moment. "What does he taste like?"
Then fearful again that the other three might vote a change in their positions, Florence really went to work with a vengeance on George's massive prong, violently tossing her head from side to side, at the same time sucking his great knob as intensely as she could.
Helen felt a hardening of the ball in her mouth and she pinched her lips down on it hard to assist the sperm on its way; at the same time releasing his other ball and reaching up over her head to grasp his fat shaft, jerking it mightily.
George was in a delirium of sexual ecstasy, feeling as though he were in the grip of four suctioning vacuum tubes. Never before had any feelings ever approached the sensations that were sending delicious electric charges through his nerve system. He felt his discharge building up in his balls, but he didn't want to come now, he walked the marvelous exciting feelings to continue forever. He tried to think of unpleasant things, things that might delay his orgasm so that he might savor it a little while longer. He thought of his father, his cruel, disgusting father. He thought of his horny old hands on Olga's big teats while his mother lay desperately ill upstairs. He thought of the constant beatings that his father would give him in the woodshed, not because of anything he had done, but just to satisfy his sadistic nature. He thought of the manure pile that he alone was required to shovel during all of his younger years. He thought of these things and it made him realize how lucky he was. Kids in school had always derided him in the locker room, calling him "big cock." He knew now that they were all envious. The huge prick that he had always felt self-conscious about, setting him apart from the other boys as sort of a freak, now was to be his meal ticket. Many women would make a meal of it and he would fuck them too. If he played his cards right there was no limit to the heights he could reach.
His wandering thoughts delayed his orgasm for a few moments, but no male, especially a seventeen year old boy, could withstand the fiery onslaught of these frantic women for long. His sperm inflated balls tensed and sent the sticky, white fluid shooting up the great length of his shaft, the first hot load blasted the brunette's head off of his great knob. She desperately tried to get her lips back in place but not quickly enough as the second blast hit her on the tip of her nose with a loud splat, sending hot semen shooting into her eyes, her hair and all over her face. Oddly, George in a detached way thought of someone he had seen on TV in an old Mack Sennete comedy being hit full in the face with a cake of whipped cream. And just as the actor had stood there quietly, licking the cream from around his lips, Florence did too.
But the other three stunning women were galvanized into instant action as his sperm shot skywards.
"Look at old faithful go," Terry screamed as she leaned over George's prostrate form, twisting her head so that she caught the third load in her gaping mouth on its downward course.
"My turn," Grace screamed as she made the mistake of placing her open mouth a scant inch above George's wildly ejaculating cock and taking the full blast of the fourth shot down her throat and she fell into a fit of gasping and coughing as she couldn't swallow it properly as some of it went down the wrong throat.
The blasts were diminishing in intensity now as Helen and Terry alternated in catching the sticky fluid, their Adam's apples working rapidly as they swallowed the creamy cum. Finally Terry caught the last little spurt and Helen jammed her lips down on the rapidly receding penis, so small now that her nose was pressed into the hair of his black bush. She milked his soft shaft of the semen that hadn't been able to make its exit, tightening her gloved fingers at its base and pulling upwards, forcing the delicious fluid along ahead, sucking it greedily into her mouth.
"That's enough ... THAT'S ENOUGH," George wailed as Helen continued to suck, a great straining hurt shooting through his balls.
"Now ladies let's move down a position," Helen giggled, her face flushed a beet red as George's shrunken cock plopped from her mouth. "It's SMORGASBORD time."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They did change positions as they babbled excitedly about the amazing prize that they had found. Terry moving to his nipples, the ecstatic Grace to his soft cock, Florence reluctantly moving to his feet, while Helen moved up to his head. They all rested for a moment before renewing their onslaught, giving George a short time for his balls to fill once again. Helen reached down over his head and took his soft prick in her gloved palms and rubbed it gently the way she might warm her hands in the cold, knowing that the sensation of the soft, luxurious kid, the sensual feel of it, the utter femininity of it, would soon have him as stiff and as hard as a steel poker once again.
"You know, Helen, your term 'Smorgasbord' certainly describes this situation to a T. If his youthful cock tastes as good as his sweet nipples did," Grace said idly at her pole position as she watched excitedly for some sign of life from the cock that Helen was gently massaging in her gloved fingers. The fingers of her black kid gloves were stained white as though they had been bleached but Helen didn't mind. She planned on keeping the town cleaners pretty busy from now on. She wondered if the stains would come out of the exquisitely delicate kid. She would have to get her sister to buy her a dozen pairs or more in the event they didn't. The gloves must have cost forty or fifty dollars, but she didn't care, she'd willingly use a new pair on him every day, just as long as they brought results.
She thrilled inwardly as she felt his prick begin to harden and lengthen a bit in her palms. She increased the tempo of her massage and now it was evident to all that his cock was on the rise again.
"Oh, LOOK at it go," Grace exclaimed, wetting her lush lips with her tongue till they shone brilliantly, as she eagerly watched George's thoroughly lipstick smeared cock grow in Helen's hands, the milky whiteness of it standing out in violent contrast to her hostess's black gloves. Helen was supporting his cock now with just the palms of her hands, cupping its underside so as to give the others a clear view of the rapid progress of his erection.
"Good gracious, girls, isn't he unbelievable?" Terry exclaimed as she stared, fascinated by the rapidly growing cock. "He only has half an erection and he's already larger than my husband ever was."
His cock was stiff enough now that it didn't need any support as it gradually lifted from Helen's hands, lengthening and fattening as it rose skyward.
"Look at that. It uncaps itself," Florence exclaimed as the fiery nose of his knob peeked through the covering foreskin and gradually separated the wrinkly folds, sliding its slippery way out of the thin protective covering as his shaft continued to thicken and rise.
"It seems a shame that men get circumcised," Florence said quietly as they all stared at the awesome display. "My husband's knob is all leathery from knocking about in his trousers. I think nature gave a man his foreskin to keep his head all velvety and smooth like his is and it certainly must be more sensitive."
"I never thought about it before, Florence," Terry said seriously. "But I think you must be right. You all know that first and foremost I'm a cunt and cock-sucker. I'm always secretly delighted when I discover a man has a foreskin. I just love to tug it back with my teeth and lick and nibble on it, otherwise I feel kind of cheated."
Suddenly George felt proud of the fact that he had a foreskin to go along with his monster prick. He seemed to be discovering some delightful new fact every minute. And to think of how the boys in school used to kid him about that too.
Finally his cock was standing up straight and proud once again, requiring no more assistance from Helen's gloved hands. The four women went to work on him with if anything more of a vengeance than before and the blast of his orgasm was just as tremendous as had been the first. And it was only due to his extreme youth that he could accommodate them two additional times, so that each one had a chance at his delicious cock and balls.
Terry was the fourth one to bring him to orgasm and as he had suspected from the way she had worked so expertly on Helen's cunt and the fact that she had mentioned that this was what she liked to do best, she was the most expert by far. She sent him into spine-tingling rapture the way she concentrated mainly on the sensitive underside of his knob, knowing that it was there that she could thrill him the most; pausing occasionally to gulp the head that was swollen more than ever before into her mouth and chew it into raw sensitivity. The others were furious when, sensing his orgasm, she hooked her teeth over the ridge of his knob, locking her mouth in place and took every blast deep down her throat, not gagging as Florence had done, but quickly gulping down every delectable spurt.
After this he lay back on the table completely spent in balls and body, unable to go any further, so completely exhausted that, boy-like, he fell into a deep slumber.
"Oh NO-O-O," Florence screamed as she felt since she had had the pole position first, she would be the first to be fucked.
"I'm afraid our prize specimen is finished for tonight, girls," Helen whispered as she went to the couch and brought back an afghan, covering his nude form with it as though she were putting a baby to bed. "But if you all are as hot as I am, there's no reason that we can't ... er ... have another game of bridge amongst ourselves."
CHAPTER TWELVE
They did have their own particular brand of bridge game and the scene that was acted there was far wilder and more satisfying than any that had gone on between them before. Stimulated by George's unbelievable attributes, they writhed about on the rug in violent embrace before a fire that was roaring in the fireplace, the frantically moving shadows that were cast on the far wall creating a "Dante's Inferno-like" atmosphere.
Deep in slumber like the child that he was, George slept through it all, the shrieking, the piercing screams of orgasm after orgasm. Finally around four in the morning the three thoroughly satisfied guests staggered from the house, pausing before they did to raise the afghan and stare wistfully at George's limp, but still sizable cock nestling comfortably between his great balls.
The three guests kissed Helen on the cheek as they left in a genteel manner, as though they were departing after a quiet game of bridge, Florence whispering, "Now don't keep that fat boy-cock to yourself, my deah ... we expect to have a taste of it at least once a week or remember what I said about hiring him away from you."
"Don't worry, girls," Helen said wearily. "Same time next week."
"Gosh," Terry exclaimed as she replaced the lipstick that had been deposited on various sex organs during the long night. "My mouth is going to be watering until then."
"Not me," Grace giggled. "I loved it, but I'm not like you, Terry, it's my cunt that will be watering."
They all burst into laughter at this and the evening ended on a cheery note. As soon as the door closed Helen ran to George and shook him violently in a vain attempt to waken him, but in the deep slumber that only the young can sink to, she met with little success. Finally she had him awake to the point where she could assist him off the table and up the stairs, supporting him with her unusual strength as she walked behind him supporting his arms. As they climbed the stairs she thrilled as his pendulous balls kept slapping against her black nyloned thighs and her depleted passions somehow began to rise again.
Once in the bedroom she awkwardly supported him with one hand as she yanked back the sheets on her oversized bed and lowered him into it. Instantly he drifted into deep slumber once again. She stared down at his sleeping form for a moment, loving every finely etched muscle in his clean, boyish body; the contradiction of the great mass of curly black pubic hair that matched hers and the accompanying massive cock and balls. Gently she reached down and pried his legs apart till they were as splayed as they could go. Then slowly, so as to make certain that she not arouse him, she climbed onto the bed and crawled between his legs, unfortunately he missed the incredible sight of her monstrous melons dangling down so far that the great nipples slid over the sheets as they swayed pendulously.
She lay on her stomach between his legs, her face just inches from his bulging genitals. She reached behind her and tugged the single sheet up over them till it came to his chest. Dawn was breaking now and the light that flowed through the thin sheet illuminated the area enough so that she felt that she was in a little twilight world of her own, all alone with the massive cock and balls that lay on the sheets before her.
Easily, delicately, she peeled his foreskin back not waiting for what was a forthcoming erection to do so. She placed the tip of the soft, satiny knob between pursed lips and sucked it into her mouth as she might suck ice cream from a cone, only his limp prick was hot, marvelously hot.
She lay quietly, not moving a muscle, his penis in her mouth but not working on it, just letting it lay peacefully on her tongue, listening ... his breathing hadn't changed, wonderful ... delightful. Here in her little world beneath the sheet, a world of gathering warmth and rosy light as the sun began to cast its rays into the room, she had this amazing cock and balls at her disposal without their possessor's knowledge. There was something excruciatingly exciting about it. They were her toys to play with as she would ... no one to tell her no. Without her realizing it Helen was reverting to her childhood there beneath the sheets. The incredible night of debauchery had contributed largely to this, her subconscious not willing to accept this was throwing her gears into reverse, sending her back to her childhood where she would be safe, safe from guilt over the events that had transpired earlier. Now she had three playthings, a cock and two balls ... how lovely they were ... how delicious the penis, just like the all-day suckers mommy used to buy for her.
That's what it was ... an all-day sucker ... and the balls, oh yes, they were the balls she and her brother used to love to play with ... but how did all that hair get stuck to them?
"Oh mommy, thank you for the all-day sucker," she cooed softly. "It tastes better than usual, mommy. I want to suck it for a whole week. And the balls, mommy, someone's let the air out of them, they're soft when I pinch them like this ... and this ... oh, MOMMY, instead of growing smaller my all-day sucker is growing larger and larger. You must always buy me this kind, mommy."
Helen went on and on with her aimless child talk as George's cock fattened and lengthened once again. As the giant head puffed her cheeks out to the exploding point, raising her head under the sheets till she was forced to get up on her elbows, she dropped his balls and wrapped her gloved fingers around his thick shaft.
"Oh mommy, even the stick on my all-day sucker is growing larger. That IS unusual, mommy ... perhaps brother can make a baseball bat out of it if it grows large enough, he's always wanted a bat ... oh I want to lick the stick too, it's so sticky and nice."
Helen released George's rapidly swelling knob and began with a series of little cat-licks down his long shaft, kissing, nibbling and teasing, pressing her chin between his huge balls, nuzzling her face into his massive bush.
With one long, smoldering, juicy suck on George's cock-head, Helen scrambled to her knees, the sheet riding like a golden tent around her. Grasping his great cock in gloved hands that could hardly hold him they were so slippery with his juices, she steered the great red head between her gaping vaginal lips. She pressed forward and the giant cock slithered into her cunt, forcing the delicate tendons apart.
"Oh MOMMY," she wailed. "This feels far better than brother's little fingers ... it's much better fucking my all-day sucker ... OU-U-U, it feels so GOOD-D-D-D."
Helen was riding easily now on his great prick, like a woman posting on a fast moving horse, her legs providing the momentum as her powerful thigh muscles were used to good advantage, lifting up her great weight till there was a loud sucking sound from her cunt area as his knob almost emerged, then releasing her weight so that his cock skewered into her till their hairy bellies socked together, her great buttocks crushing his balls into the softness of the bed.
"Oh MOMMY, it's marvelous ... I feel something strange in my cunny ... like something is going to happen ... OU-U-U-U-U MOMMY ... something DID happen and it was wonderful ... who would ever think that a little all-day sucker could make you feel so good ... now, put me to bed and tuck me in mommy ... I feel awful sleepy."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
George looked out of the train window as it sped over the rails, watching the increasing ruggedness of the terrain and the lessening evidence of man's habitation as it headed for Wisconsin's lake district.
Many things had transpired since that fateful night at Helen's. He now was a legend amongst the town's upper crust. Since many of the society females were sadly neglected by their successful husbands who usually dipped their cocks between the glamorous legs of call girls in Cleveland and Chicago rather than their wives', they were thrilled to death when word flashed around like wildfire about the incredible youth that was living with Helen.
As you might assume, no woman could keep a secret of the enormity of that one and soon they were babbling about him to all of their friends. Helen began to have her bridge games more frequently, inviting a different threesome each time. Then her facile mind saw the incredible possibilities in George's male charms. She began to charge for her little bridge games and the price increased in direct proportion to the demand. Word spread to surrounding towns and it got to the point where she almost needed a secretary. Of course she never let George know about this fact, he thinking all along that the great multitude of women who swarmed to Helen's house were all her friends.
She placated the original threesome by inviting them for a game occasionally, free of charge. Of all the women that George came in physical contact with, only Helen and Terry interested him. Helen because of his fetish for huge breasts and kid gloves and Terry for her expertise at sucking cocks.
The following evening after the first bridge game, George had borrowed the car to go to town for a pack of cigarettes. Helen hadn't minded because she wanted him to drop her soiled gloves off at the cleaners. George was a little chagrined because he had hoped that she might wear them for him that night. "Don't worry, baby, I have a shorter pair I can wear for you tonight," she had said. "My sister is going to get me a bunch of pairs for you."
As he stood in the cleaners, embarrassed for fear the proprietress, a well put together red head, might recognize the white stains as semen, she looked down at them, then glanced up at him from under fluttering lids and said softly so that the other people in the shop couldn't hear, "Semen stains don't always come out, you know."
George blushed a deep red and stood speechless, not knowing what to say, the sexy dish taking the occasion to let her eyes wander over his compact body and the big lump in his tight chinos.
"No need to blush about it, sonny," she smiled, taking up an order pad and holding a pencil to it. "We're constantly running into this problem here, men sure are kinda weird, aren't they?"
"I am not ... er ... I mean I don't know how they got stained, they're my mother's," he blurted out.
"Oh really," she said. "And what might your mother's name and address be?"
"Er ... Mrs. Vanarsdale, 24 Concord Drive," he stammered, hoping against hope that she didn't know her.
"Oh REALLY," she exclaimed, her lovely lavender eyes giving a closer inspection, especially around the crotch area. "She never mentioned that she had a son."
"Oh, I've been away at school ... I ... guess that's why."
The shop was deserted now as it was close to closing time. She turned on her stiletto heels and walked towards a back room that was filled to the brim with hanging garments. Never had George seen a finer turned ass, as the meaty buttocks worked beautifully together, calling back over her shoulder to him, "If you'll just come back here a moment, son, I can find out in a moment if they can be cleaned."
George lifted up the hinged counter top and entered the semi darkened room. When he could adjust his eyes to the dimmer light he saw that she wasn't trying cleaning fluid on the gloves as he had expected, rather she was busily engaged in pulling them on over her soft white arms.
"Don't look so startled, sonny," she said. "There's only one thing that might get dried semen stains off kid as exquisite as this."
"Yes and how's that?"
"Fresh semen," she said it as casually as though she were saying ham on rye.
"Fresh SEMEN," George exclaimed, not believing he'd heard right.
"Oh good heavens, but aren't you the excitable one though," she said demurely as she glanced up at him from under heavy aqua tinted lids. "Fresh semen is the only thing that will dissolve dried semen, it loosens it and then we just wash it off. If your er ... mother had thought about it at the time it would have washed right off, but for some reason that escapes me, women never seem to think of it at the time ... I guess they have other things on their minds."
She couldn't suppress a slight smile as she spoke, continuing to tug the tight kid gloves up over her arms. Once this delightful task was completed she proceeded to smooth out the tiny folds and wrinkles till the glove had a lovely sheen up its entire length. She held her arms out from her sides, opening and closing her hands as though she were imaging that she were grasping something and George suddenly thinking how nice it would feel if it were his cock, felt his shaft begin to fatten and lengthen in the tight confines of his chinos.
"W-where will you get this semen? ... you don't have it bottled, do you?" George stammered awkwardly.
"BOTTLED ... oh, son, you're a riot. We don't have any bottled ... where would we find donors," she said, exploding into laughter, her quite formidable breasts, obviously unbrassiered, flopping about in her sweater. Then she quieted suddenly and looked at him steadily. "And you don't expect me to get it from myself, do you? Perhaps you're too young to know, but only men ... and boys, manufacture semen."
"Well where then?"
"From you of course," she said simply.
"From ME-E," George shouted.
"Oh good heavens, of COURSE from you. Now pay attention son, because I'm only going to say this once, it's quitting time and my husband needs to have his dinner cooked. When a man suspects that he might have a venereal disease, he goes to a doctor and the doctor gives him what they call a smear test. That is all I want with you, simply take a smear test from your penis. Believe me I only have a clinical attitude towards this just as the doctor would. I have a virile husband at home who takes care of any thoughts I might have about a penis that doesn't apply to my duties here."
George was beginning to believe her, but somehow the way she kept incessantly opening and closing her gloved hands and a certain undefinable glint in her lovely eyes, he wasn't absolutely convinced.
"Now for heaven's sake stop being silly, son and open up your fly and take out your penis," she said sternly.
George was dumbfounded, despite his night of debauchery with the four socialites, he was still a youth and the natural fears and bashfulness of youth hadn't completely deserted him. With shaking fingers he fumbled at his fly but couldn't seem to manage if.
"Oh here ... let me," she exclaimed impatiently ash she stepped towards him and easily, despite her kid encased fingers, tugged down his zipper. It was extremely cold in the back room and when she reached into his gaping fly and wrapped her gloved fingers around his cock, he jumped from the contact of the ice cold kid on his hot shaft, which by now was almost at full erection.
"Oh I'm sorry, son," she exclaimed, withdrawing her hands. "I'm afraid my hands haven't had time to warm the kid up yet. I'll rub them together a bit, that should do the trick."
She proceeded to rub her hands briskly together, but it seemed to George to be more in glee than anything else as she stared at his great prick jutting out of his open fly. She reached out again and George knew that his suspicions weren't unfounded, for this time her hands were visibly shaking. She took his huge red gland in the palms of both hands and massaged it the way a pitcher does when he breaks in a new baseball.
"I ... I have to rub you a bit to get the semen out," she explained weakly. "I hope you don't mind, son ... you certainly are ... are ... rather large for a boy, aren't you?"
Just as with the four socialites, when he had sensed a weakening in them, a sense of awe at the sight of his great cock, the feeling of great power over the opposite sex flowed into him like warm wine. He hadn't dared use this feeling of domination on the others. But this was different ... a mere shop girl ... she would be the perfect one to try it out on.
"Baby, is the front door locked?" he snapped.
"Y-yes ... how DARE you call me baby?"
"Cut out the crap," he snarled, stepping back so that his cock avoided her clutching gloved fingers. "You know you're just dying to suck the biggest cock you've ever seen."
"H-how did you guess?" she stammered weakly, her words barely audible as she continued to stare at the great, waving prick. "I ... I love to suck men's cocks ... but ... but I've never had a chance at any like yours."
"Tell the truth, you only like to suck boy's cocks, right?"
"H-how did you guess?" she was crying now, her cheeks becoming streaked with mascara. "I don't know what it is about me ... it ... it's the only thing that really thrills me. I went to a psychiatrist once about it, but he was a terrible man. He was fat and obese, with a huge belly and he made me suck him off or he threatened to tell my boss about it."
"Tell me in detail what you did to him," George ordered.
"W-why," she stammered, her lovely, tear-filled eyes looking away from his cock for the first time and staring into his.
"Because I'm telling you to THAT'S why," George snarled.
"C-can I lick your cock a little, while I'm telling you," she asked hopefully.
"No, only afterwards and if your story isn't good enough, if you leave out any details, not even then."
"Oh I'll tell ... I'll tell," she wailed, desperate at the thought that she might not be able to work on George's unequaled tool. "I unzipped his fly for ..."
"C'mon, baby, start at the beginning, when you entered the office," George snapped.
"Oh yes ... well when I entered his office I was disgusted by the mere sight of him. He was short and fat with a little goatee and his bullet shaped head was completely bald. It was a hot summer's day and the coat to his thin summer suit was open and grimy. His great belly protruded out over his belt and his shirt was soaked with sweat. His short, fat legs were spread as wide apart as they could go. His chair was turned away from his desk and I couldn't help but see a big lump by his fly ... "
"Oh come off it, baby," George snapped. "That was the first thing you looked for."
"OH NO ... NO IT WASN'T ... I told you I only like boys. Anyway I foolishly had worn a rather tight, thin dress due to the heat and his little pig eyes seemed to be undressing me garment by garment. He had me lay down on a couch and tell my story. I hesitated at first ... something about the way he was devouring me with his eyes told me not to, but I was so worried about my problem I started and pretty soon I blurted out the whole story. As I talked I kept glancing worriedly out of the corners of my eyes at him ... "
"You were probably worried because he hadn't taken his cock out yet," George interrupted, hating the humiliation that he was putting the poor girl through, but wanting to test his new-found power even more.
"No-No-No-o-o ... it was nothing like that, I couldn't stand him. Anyway as I glanced at him I saw that the lump had grown in his trousers, not outwardly much ... sort of thickened. To my utter horror he reached down and began to massage the lump, then he rose from his seat and waddled over and sat down on the couch beside me ... I was simply terrified. He rested his fat, clammy hand on my knee as I talked and began to slide it upwards under my skirt. I started to get up but he restrained me saying, "Don't be frightened, little lady, this is part of my treatment. He seemed to love the feel of my sheer silk stockings as he continued to run his hand all over them, even snapping my garter straps occasionally. He was making little grunting sounds and sweat was pouring down over his fat jowls ... oh he was terrible ... "
"You liked it, you bitch, didn't you? You liked his hands on your legs ... remember, you're not going to have your delicious supper if you don't tell the truth," George snapped, grasping his thick cock at its base and waving it at her in an obscene way.
"No I didn't, son ... "
"Don't call me son," George snarled. "Did you ever see a cock like this on anyone referred to as son ... from now on you'll call me 'oh-master.'"
"No I didn't, oh master," she answered obediently. "At least I didn't till he stuck his fat finger under the elastic edge of my tight panties and jammed it into my pussy. It was as big as any boy-cock I ever sucked ... I ... I have to admit I did get excited when he wiggled it about in my cunt-hole enthusiastically."
"I knew it ... I knew it," George exclaimed, trying hard to imagine this lovely girl being finger-fucked by an obese little bald headed man. "Go on."
"He continued to wiggle his fat finger in my cunt as he turned and stared with his little pig eyes into mine, saying, "Now little lady, I've had occasion to help lots of confused girls like you. There is, I'm afraid, only one cure for your problem. In order to erase the desire for sucking boy-cock from your mind, you must suck a man-cock ... "
"Ah-HA-A-A," George interrupted. "That's where you got the idea to say that the only way you can get semen off kid gloves is to use fresh semen on the spots, isn't it?" Just as he did, you make believe that you are solving a problem, when all along you know that once you handle a boy's cock-head with the gloves it won't be long before he's dying for you to suck him off ... how many other unsuspecting boys have you used this stunt on?"
" ... I know it's terrible, but quite a few I'm afraid. My problem had always been that I didn't know how to get at a boy's penis without the chance that I might frighten him and send him running to his mother. I used to lay awake nights trying to scheme up ways. When I saw how beautifully his technique worked I realized that I could apply it to my problem. I knew that once I had a boy's penis out of his pants and touched his little head with his mother's kid gloves that then it would be a piece of cake ... ah-h and such delicious cake. His technique solved the problem of getting his penis out of his fly without his suspecting anything until it was too late."
"Wow, but you're a shrewd one, you almost had me fooled, you know, but two little things gave you away ... "
"What were they?" she interrupted. "PLEASE tell me ... I HAVE to know."
"Well first of all you have a habit of licking your lips when you see an erection, as though you were looking at a lollipop."
"Oh good heavens ... I didn't realize."
"Also you keep clenching and unclenching your hands as though you can't wait to get your hands on it, that's a dead giveaway."
"Oh master, I'll never be able to thank you enough," she exclaimed, her hands opening and closing by her sides as she stared greedily at George's immense tool; her tongue flicking rapidly back and forth over her lush lips.
"There, you're doing it again."
"Oh my goodness, I guess I'll have to concentrate ... little habits are hard to break, they say."
"Go on with your story," George said sternly, the domineering tone back in his voice once again.
"Well, when he said that the only cure for me was to suck a man's cock I was terrified, for it was obvious what man's cock he was referring to and I was revolted by the mere thought of it. As much as I enjoy sucking a boy's penis, I absolutely deplore the thought of sucking a man's."
"You know, Miss, it won't be long before I'm a man," George said, as he lewdly waved his juicy cock at her. "What then?"
"W-well ... with you I might make an exception," she said wickedly, for the first time her face breaking into a smile so radiant that it made George suddenly realize that here was truly a beautiful woman.
"Go on with your tale, baby."
"He was getting me a bit excited with his fat finger, somehow making the stale odor of perspiration that enveloped him and his grotesque appearance seem not so bad. It even made me curious to see what that odd-shaped lump in his trousers was caused by. I reached over and grasped the tab to his zipper and pulled it down. I reached inside to take his penis out, fingering my way through the opening in his underpants and discovered to my amazement that he had the fattest penis I had ever touched ... even fatter than yours."
"Impossible," George said proudly.
"Oh yes it was, but that's where the similarity ended, it was shorter than it was thick, only about two inches."
"TWO INCHES?"
"Yes, two inches, or even less ... as I fingered his juicy knob that was about the size of a fully grown orange I realized that his shaft was too short for me to even get it out of his trousers. 'Take off my pants, little lady,' he said suddenly as he unbuckled his belt."
"And you did of course," George said acidly, still not convinced that this beautiful woman hadn't enjoyed the whole scene.
"Of COURSE I did," she exclaimed, tears beginning to fill her lovely eyes up once again. "He was a licensed psychiatrist and I really believed that he was trying to help me, otherwise I would have run from his office and never returned. I unbuttoned his shorts and pulled his pants and shorts down at the same time. Two great, hairy balls tumbled out and hung down over the edge of the couch, fully as large as yours ... then I looked up at his penis and I was horrified by the sight. He had pulled back his suit jacket and unbuttoned his soaked shirt and pulled that back too so that his great belly, covered by a mass of black hair, projected out so far that the shadow it cast almost obscured the stubby thing, the huge, juicy gland glistened redly. Then I noticed a terrible thing ... the great mass of black hair that covered his belly and balls didn't stop there, it ran out onto his fat shaft right up to the knob so that in appearance it seemed as though his great head was glued to his belly ... I was horrified."
"Gosh, it does sound pretty weird at that," George exclaimed.
"Weird isn't the word for it ... anyway he took his finger away from my cunt and held his shaft in his hands, only able to get his thumb and two fingers around it, it was so short. 'Now suck me off, little lady,' he said, his fat wet lips breaking into a smile, exposing an irregular set of cigar-stained teeth, drool dribbling from his mouth. I detested the thought, but willing to do anything if it would solve my problem, I leaned down and opened my mouth to take the huge knob in my mouth, but my head pressed into his great belly and I couldn't reach it. 'Wait, little lady, let me lay down so that you can get at your delicious meal,' he said calmly, picking up a big cigar from a humidor on his desk and lighting it as I arose to make way for him. He lay where I had been, his fat arms above his head as a pillow, puffing great clouds of vile-smelling smoke in the air as he ran his pig eyes over my curves."
"'Never seen a cock like mine ... have ya, little lady?' he said proudly."
"'Never,' I admitted and I wasn't telling a lie."
"I kneeled down on the floor, causing my short skirt to ride high above the tops of my dark nylons and he fingered them idly as I leaned over and slid my lips over his juicy knob. As hairy and terrible as the rest of him was, his head felt smooth and velvety to my lips, not unlike any of the boys I had sucked, but larger, much larger. So large in fact that I had great difficulty in getting the thing into my mouth. Fortunately it was all wet and slippery from his sex juices and it plopped inside. Suddenly I was revolted by the contact of his wiry hair that sprouted on his foreskin, on my lips. Then I realized that the only way I could go through with it was to close my eyes and imagine that it was a youth that I was sucking on. I did and as soon as I did, something clicked in my mind and everything was all right and I really went to work on what was now to me a huge, delicious cock-head. I almost swallowed the great, juicy gland as I slid my eagerly working lips down over his hairy shaft, licking it frantically all the while till the wiry tendrils became wet and silky from my saliva. Now I had the whole fat thing in my hot mouth as I pressed my lips hungrily into the matted hair at his crotch. I reached down and cupped his massive, pendulous balls in my hands and rubbed them together as thought I were kneading a cake mix. I was enjoying it ... Oh how I was enjoying it as I imagined that all of this masculinity belonged to a handsome youth ... then suddenly it hit me like a thunderbolt. Even in my delirium the realization got through to my mind. If the only way I could suck him off was to make believe it was a boy's prick that I held in my mouth, then it wasn't working at all ... it was still a boy that I craved, only more so now, due to his revolting grotesqueness. Now a man would seem more disgusting to me than ever. With a cry of dismay I released his cock and scrambled to my feet, crying that I couldn't go through with it, it just wasn't any good to try. He grabbed my arm and dragged me back down on my knees, snarling, 'Little lady, you'd better suck me off, or there will be lots of mothers of boys in this town and your boss too, who will hear of what's been going on in the back room of the cleaners.' I was stunned, I could report him to the medical board for his blackmail, but what good would that do me once the news was out ... a jail sentence perhaps, humiliation. So I went back to work on his cock ... what else could I do. Once again I imagined that he was a youth and soon I got caught up in my passion once again and finished him off. When I think of how I, a desperate woman with a terrible problem, went to this man for help and rather than helping me he ruined me beyond all repair, it just tortures my soul."
"Whew ... what a story," George exclaimed, compassion for this unfortunate woman flowing over him, replacing the feeling of domination that he had been experimenting with. He would try it again, but only on a mentally healthy victim. "Was that the last you saw of him?"
"No, that's the worst part. Possibly I could have shook off the effects of that one experience, but he forced me to come back repeatedly to service him, always in the same way. Now my hatred for men is so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I know that I'm hopeless."
"Possibly not," George said seriously as he stuffed his cock back in his chinos and zipped up his fly. "In three and a half years I will be twenty-one and a man. I promise you that no matter where I happen to be at the time I will return here and see if I can't get you interested in a man."
He quietly closed the door behind him and her sobs seemed to follow him as he walked solemnly down the street.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I suppose that was the only decent thing that I've ever done in my life," George mused as he stared out of the train window into the gathering dusk as the first evidence of Wisconsin's lake district drifted by. Small, ripple-less ponds at first, reflecting a ridge of giant pines that bordered the far shores, then sizable lakes with tiny lights twinkling in the murkiness, suggesting summer cottages filled with vacationers. Well this was to be his vacation too, his vacation from debauchery.
Despite his now eighteen years, George Hammond was almost a physical wreck. There is just so much that human flesh can endure and in her greediness to become a very wealthy woman, Helen had been holding nightly bridge sessions. In the beginning George had loved it, reveled in a life of sensualness that he had always dreamed of. He loved the excitement of having three different women every night. But as time wore on George gradually wore out. If he had had a full day to sleep it off and rest up for the evening's entertainment it wouldn't have been such a drain on his system. But Helen's insatiable lust for his giant cock kept him at it practically all day too.
He was steadily losing weight and he felt that at this rate he would be an old man before he became one officially. Added to all this was his craving for Terry, or rather Terry's devouring, all-consuming, torturing mouth. That evening as he walked down the street after his sad episode at the cleaners, he had seen her coming towards him, her voluptuous form swathed in mink, her stilt-heeled pumps clicking a merry tune on the sidewalk.
"Hi, Georgie boy," she had called cheerily before they even came up to each other. "After last night I didn't think you'd be on your feet for a week ... ah-h-h, the recuperative powers of youth; I didn't think that I would be able to raise myself from bed this morning."
Then looking about warily and seeing that the street was deserted, she turned her shoulder to him and reached down to clasp George's big cock that was hanging down one pants leg. "I wonder if I would be able to raise him this evening? ... pardon my glove, Georgie, but I'm just testing ... testing to see if he really is as huge as I remember him to be. I'm delighted to see that he is, I was afraid when I woke up that it might have been the martinis."
Terry was a chatterbox, the type of woman who babbles on incessantly, never giving the person she is speaking to a chance to answer, and George didn't mind, he could listen to her sexy conversation all day.
"Say, lover-boy, he's getting hard ... how about having a little two-handed bridge game," she giggled as she brought her other hand into play, pinching George's swelling knob as though she was at a fruit stand, testing a big plum. "No kidding though, Georgie, I've been dying to French you ever since I woke up this morning. My husband is a very poor substitute but I gave him the time of his life underneath the dining room table this morning. While he had breakfast up above, I had breakfast down below ... but Georgie, I was so disappointed, I'm afraid that after you I'm spoiled for any other man ... how about it, baby, can I? ... I'm just drooling at the mouth over the thought of Frenching you."
"S-sure, Miss Terry ... but where?"
"There's a phone booth just around the corner, come on," she giggled, but the giggling belied the lustful look in her eyes as she led him along by the hand as though he were her child and they were out for an evening's walk.
"B-but a phone booth ... it's icy cold and so public."
"Not a bit, Doll, it's as though the place was designed for cock sucking, you'll see," she said cheerily as they approached the booth.
"But it has big windows, someone will see."
"All they will see is a youth speaking on the phone. Notice how the windows only come down to about your waist ... all of our action is going to be confined below your waist, remember?"
"You ... you've done this before, haven't you?"
"Oodles of times, Doll, but never with anyone as well endowed as you. I started sucking boys in high school and did it for two years until I made the mistake of going down on the six-foot, eight-inch center on our basketball team. I didn't realize it because I was so excited, but the whole performance was visible through the windows. Almost everyone in town saw it, including the mayor ... I got into one HELL of a mess over it ... now step inside and unsheath that big cock of yours, lover."
There was no problem with his height because George was only five-foot-six and it was true, the bottom two-thirds of him was invisible from the street. He fumbled with shaking hands for his zipper, found it and yanked it down. Ice cold air rushed in to cool his boiling loins, his cock as hard as steel from the obscene conversation.
"Just pick up the phone and make believe you're talking to your girl friend about the spring prom, sonny," she giggled. "I'll take him out. I'm afraid I don't have the time to give you a good Frenching, not the way I will when you come to visit me. I won't be able to nibble and suck your big balls the way I want to, but I'm sure you're going to like it."
She had to tug his open fly as far away from his body as she could in order to get his giant shaft out where she could get at it, but she managed, after giggling, "What a delightful problem."
As she wet her bee-stung, pouting lips with her tongue, she took some of the juice that was flowing from his great cock-head and rubbed it all around the smooth surfaces.
"With what you've got, buster, I've got to lubricate it to get it into my mouth," she explained. Then without any preliminaries she jammed her wet lips down over the spongy head and with wet, sucking sounds she went to work on the juicy morsel. Her cheeks bulged, heavy with the weight of him, her tongue tickled and lashed, tickled and lashed as she bent eagerly to her delightful task. She began to slide her loving hand over his steaming, erotic shaft in a definite stroking motion, thrilling as she felt the turgid cock swell and grow under her stimulation.
She slipped her other hand down into his fly and captured a great, hair-flecked ball in her clasping fingers, pinching it, hefting it, marveling at the great, fluid weight. As she had shown him the night before, she sought out the tiny, delicate parts on the underside of his juicy gland with her lips and tongue. She seemed to know where they were most sensitive ... where the nerve endings to passion were wide open and raw.
To a casual observer George would have resembled a high school youth speaking on the phone to his girl, but if he had been able to hear, he would have heard groans and moans of passion and the slurping sounds of a mouth devouring a cock. The fiery heat from their mutual passions soon fogged up the windows in the cramped booth. An astute cop, if he had seen, would have wondered about that, but fortunately for the frantic twosome there were no astute policemen on the beat that night. And if he had heard the scream that rent the night air, he would have been puzzled by that too, for it wasn't the scream of someone in fear, it was the scream of a youth experiencing an orgasm.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was near midnight now and the only thing visible through the window was the wildly changing profile of the rugged terrain, silhouetted against the moon and an occasional shimmering reflection, indicating that they were passing a lake.
"Yes, that had been quite an evening, everything considered," George mused. "First the fouled up woman in the cleaners, followed by Terry's Frenching him in the phone booth." After that experience George visited Terry many times. No matter how many women went down on him in the bridge games, no one even approached her ability at that sensuous activity.
Now he was on a vacation ... most men go on vacations in the hopes of finding sex, George was going on one to get away from it. All he wanted to do was to relax in the sun and do a little fishing, something he loved to do.
He got up and stretched, he was getting tired. The train didn't carry sleepers but perhaps he could stretch out on a couple of lounge chairs in the club car. He made his way towards the rear of the train noting that most people were sleeping as they sat.
He entered the club car and was delighted to see that it was empty ... no, there was one Madonna-like figure sitting at the far end reading a magazine. George saw instantly that she was a remarkably beautiful woman.
Her bearing was elegant and aristocratic. Where her hair peeked from under the black lace mantilla it had a red-gold sheen as though it were spun from fine silk. Her neck was long and stately with a single strand of pearls at its base. The flowing black silk garment she wore hid her body from view, but it couldn't disguise a magnificent, jutting bust that jiggled gelatinously with her easy breathing. The flowing folds of the garment almost reached her ankles giving her an almost nun-like appearance. Strangely the one thing modern about her apparel was her shoes and even they were out of fashion now. They were shiny black pumps with the highest heels George had ever seen. He could see the fine sheen of black hose peeking out from under the folds.
The contrast of her stiletto heeled shoes and black stockings with the rest of her Madonna-like appearance tickled George's interest, so he sat down opposite her and picked up a magazine from a table. He glanced up for a closer look ... of course ... it was Elizabeth Conway, just about Hollywood's highest paid movie star, the modern-day Greer Garson. She had built an ethereal aura around her by selecting her films wisely; never touching the "recommended for adults only" films that were the order of the day. She was the only star on the silver screen who could make an old-fashioned love story and make it pay. She had an elegant, Victorian quality about her which made her fans, mostly older people, adore her.
As George sat there, drinking in the atmosphere that surrounded the regal woman, a feeling of awe, even reverence, flowed over him, soothing his tired body like warm baby oil. After the lascivious women that he had serviced for the past six months, George had lost respect for all members of the female sex. Now he realized that this was a mistake, there was always the good to go with the bad.
The next time he glanced up from his magazine George was startled to discover that the folds of the garment that had been caressing her ankles, were now at mid calf. Probably caused by a movement of her body he reasoned. However he didn't wait quite so long the next time he looked up from his reading and this time the garment was just below her knees. It still could be from a body movement he convinced himself, not wanting to think that it could be anything else, but involuntarily, his pulse increased the tempo of its beating.
George stared at his magazine, not seeing a thing, not daring to breathe, then slowly, very slowly he lifted his eyes ... he was thunderstruck. The garment now was at mid-thigh, her really beautifully shaped legs parted now just a trifle, clad in their exciting covering of gossamer black nylon, the sheerest he had ever seen; so tissue thin that the warm hue of her flesh shone through. He thought he saw her glance up at him for a quick moment from under hooded eyelids.
George tore his eyes away from the generous display. There was a great hammering in his chest and horror of horrors, a great pulsing in his balls as his prick sped down his pants leg towards full erection ... there was no question about it now, Elizabeth Conway, the most adored, the most respected star in all of Hollywood was blatantly exposing her legs to him. She, the essence of propriety, decency, even motherliness, the one star who never had had a breath of scandal whispered about her had widened the spread of her legs a bit more when George breathlessly looked up once again. Now he could see the jet black elastic band at the top of her stockings and the merest suggestion of white thigh deep in the shadows.
"Do you recognize me, sonny?" she asked softly, staring deeply into George's eyes.
The only sound in the club car had been the clickity-click of the wheels as they rode over the rail sections. Now her words struck him like a clap of thunder from a bolt of lightning ripping through the car. George was about to blurt out that he did recognize her, but something told him not to.
"N-no, ma'am ... I'm afraid that I don't," he stammered.
That was all ... she didn't say anything more. Had she noticed the great bulge in his trousers illuminated by the lamp, the shade so situated that it cast a spotlight-like bright circle around his crotch? He was jittery, furious with himself for not continuing the conversation ... dare he now? ... no, so much time had passed it would seem too forward for a youth of his age. If anything were to happen she must lead the way ... but those legs, those lovely, shapely, awe-inspiring legs ... he had to see more, but how ... if only he could lower the angle of his vision he was certain he could see right up to her crotch ... drop his magazine, then glance up ... that was it.
George let the magazine slip to the floor, leaned down to retrieve it and looked ... he almost fell off the chair. As though she had anticipated his tactics, the beautiful star spread her legs at least six inches more and what he saw there made Helen's crotch area seem like that belonging to a ten-year-old girl. Elizabeth Conway's thighs were set wider apart and the white streak of her tiny nylon panties was so stuffed with her cunt and great mass of curly black pubic hair that George fully expected them to explode like a balloon that had been over-inflated. Great masses of her hair hung down over the top edge of her panties as you might expect to find on an old whore, but never, ever, on the almost saint-like Elizabeth Conway.
"What are you looking at, sonny?" her voice was calm, unruffled, not a trace of condemnation in it. George quickly sat up again.
"What were you looking at, sonny?" she repeated, her legs still in their splayed condition. George just couldn't answer, he just gaped at her in utter consternation.
"Please tell me what you were looking at, sonny? ... I'm anxious to hear," she asked and this time her voice wasn't quite so calm.
"I ... I wasn't looking at anything, ma'am ... I just wanted to pick up my magazine," George stammered weakly.
"Oh come now, sonny ... you were staring at me when you were bent over that way ... I want you to tell me what you were staring at?"
Her tone now was like that of a school teacher who had caught a little boy doing something naughty. George groped frantically for words but could find none.
"Were you looking up my dress?" she said, a note of rising excitement coming into her voice, her hands clasping and unclasping at her sides. "Was what you saw up there the reason for your little dicky growing so long and fat ... was it, sonny?"
Once again George almost fell off his chair. It couldn't be, it just COULDN'T be. The one woman in all the world that he had respect for was sinking into the same bottomless pit of depravity as the others he had known recently. The spell was broken, her lascivious nature had been exposed by her lewd, obscene words. He felt like saying, "Sure, baby, I was looking at that big, fat twat of yours," but he didn't. He knew that would cancel out the hot fuck that he would get out of her shortly. It would be interesting to see just how these Hollywood broads fuck.
"Yes, ma'am, I have to admit that I was looking up your dress," George said, stammering no more. "And I sure liked what I saw up there ... you have a pretty cunny."
"Well isn't that sweet of you, sonny," she laughed, pulling her gown all the way up to her hips and raising it past her navel so that he could see the great mass of hair that rose upward over her concave tummy to the base of the little indenture. "No one has ever given it that description before ... say, sonny, why don't you come over and sit in this chair next to me so that we can ... er ... talk a bit."
George was there in two youthful bounds.
"You know, sonny, I never realized that a boy's little dicky could grow so huge ... could ... could I touch it to see if it's real?"
"Be my guest."
"Golly, sonny, now you're beginning to sound a little fresh."
"Oh I'm sorry, ma'am ... I guess just the thought of you touching my dicky got me kind of excited," George said quickly, realizing he had to seem more restrained, less sure of himself.
The star reached out and nervously placed her hot hand right on the great cock-knob in his trousers
"OU-U-U it's so BIG and it's throbbing so fast," she exclaimed, as she pinched the big head, testing its steel-like hardness. "Oh, sonny, would you mind awfully much if I saw it?"
"Here?"
"No, not here, silly, back in my compartment," she exclaimed excitedly.
"I don't know why in the world you want to see it, ma'am, it's such a big, ugly old thing," George said solemnly, suppressing a laugh only after a great effort.
"I'm certain that my description will be far different from yours," she laughed as she rose and glided towards the door.
When they entered her compartment George walked over to her berth and removed a large hardcover book. He didn't want anything to interfere with the fuck he was going to throw into Elizabeth Conway. He was about to toss it on a table and would have if she hadn't shrieked and made a frantic grab for it. He deftly avoided her clutching fingers and quickly read the title, "WHIPPING AND BONDAGE." "Will the surprises never cease?" George mused, handing her the heavy book. George had become an expert on this subject during his experiences of the last six months. Many of the women who had come to him required whipping before they could bring themselves to suck and fuck. "So she's one of those is she?" Her halo had now completely vanished from his eyes.
"Do you have a whip to go with that book, ma'am?" he asked in as much of a little boy tone as he could muster.
"Why do you ask?" she asked weakly, a frightened look coming into her lovely eyes.
"Oh nothing, ma'am ... it's just that I noticed that your book had something to do with whipping ... I ... I love to whip girls," George answered with feigned confusion.
"You DO-O-O?" she fairly screamed it out, she was so excited.
"Y-yes ... is that naughty?"
"No, it isn't naughty at all, son ... I ... I'd be happy to let you whip me if that's what you like to do," she gasped, kneeling on the bed and bending over, then flipping her voluminous skirt up over her big, luscious ass. "The whip's over there in the corner."
George smiled as he went over and picked up the big bull-whip and as he approached her she began to plead, "Oh sonny, don't whip your mommy's lovely fat buttocks ... don't punish me ... "
"O.K. if you don't want me to," George said, reveling in the situation.
"Oh no-no ... if you want to whip me, go ahead, don't pay any attention to anything I might say."
George raised his brawny arm and brought the rawhide strap down onto her great buttocks with a crack. Almost instantly raw, red welts appeared on the creamy, smooth surfaces. Then he rained a series of blow till the cheeks of her ass got red.
"Oh son, you're hurting your loving mommy so bad," she screamed as livid gashes appeared where only moments before milk white skin had been. Black tufts of cunt-hair were visible at the base of her buttock cheeks and George could hardly wait till he could spin her around and plough the gorgeous star.
"ENOUGH ... ENOUGH," she screamed, as it was obvious to George that she had experienced her orgasm. "Now fuck me, sonny ... FUCK me!"
She lay on her back and drew her skirts up to her waist exposing all of that great mass of panty-stuffing goodies that he had seen briefly back in the club car, only this time it was more wanton, more sensual. The upper half of her still looked Madonna-like, lying serenely on the bed, her face still surrounded by the black lace mantilla and the shapeless black dress below. But below her waist was as eye-catching a show as George had ever seen in a pornographic movie. The great mass of black pubic hair above the tiny, cunt-lip stuffed white panties; her long-long legs, clad excitingly in her sheer black nylons, scissoring in the air in wanton invitation; she snapping her long garter straps into the softness of her thighs and belly.
George started to undress slowly, having discovered at Helen's bridge parties that a man too can drive a woman wild with a slow strip tease. He unbuckled his belt and then grasped the tab to his zipper and very slowly pulled it down.
"Lemme see it ... LEMME SEE IT," she shrieked, completely out of control now.
"But, ma'am ... I'm afraid that my big dicky might frighten you if I show it to you all at once," George said quietly.
"Oh for GOD'S sake, take the thing out and stick it into me," she wailed.
"Oh I MUSTN'T do that, my mom says I'll make babies if I do."
"Oh SHIT," the usually aristocratic, usually queen-like star screamed, pounding her fists on the berth in her frustration.
As she did, George dropped his pants and his great corded cock sprang to attention before her disbelieving eyes; long strands of clear fluid hanging down from the purple monster at the end of his fat shaft. He shuffled toward the bed, his legs widespread so that she could take in the sight of his great, dangling balls as they swung pendulously, his huge prong too waving wildly above.
This was the sight that really sent them at Helen's bridge parties and it didn't miss with Elizabeth Conway.
"Oh it's so BEAUTIFUL," she wailed, her eyes wide open and filled with wild lust. She wiggled her way frantically on the berth till her buttocks were on the edge of the mattress, her silken legs splayed wantonly. Naturally George's great, spongy cock-head reached her long before he did and she grasped it with fingers of steel and jammed it against the tissue-thin material of her panties.
Too frantic to remove them, the gorgeous star reached down and yanked the crotch part sideways, leaving an opening just large enough for his entry. George didn't miss the opportunity as he drove the huge instrument deep into her cunt, leaving torn tissues in its wake like an icebreaker churning its powerful way through a frozen sea.
The ecstatic star screamed and screamed again, snaking her arms around George's broad shoulders, pulling his head down to mash her world-famous lips wetly against his, sucking his tongue voraciously into her mouth. She mewed crazily, loving the terrible pains that wracked the inside of her stuffed pussy just as she had loved the pain of the lash on her buttocks. The long, fat cock that now lay deep in her belly was like all of the cocks that had ever fucked her merged into one and incredibly, unbelievably, that cock of cocks belonged to a youth who had just passed puberty.
George didn't have to move, in fact he was so exhausted that he couldn't have much if he'd wanted to. She worked her cunt that was clinging like a sucking mouth, up and down his huge pole with long powerful strokes. The wild slapping of his great balls against her inflamed buttocks sent her to never before found heights of sexual frenzy. George merely supported himself with his hands stiff-armed on the edge of the bunk, letting her frantically moving body do all the work, permitting her suctioning cunt to slide at will up and down the unbelievable length of his cock. Occasionally on her upstroke he would jam forward and almost drive his swollen cock-head through the walls of her womb.
As she worked her cunt wildly on his cock, George reached beneath them and found the puckered anus centered between the cheeks of her ass and jammed his index finger in to the hilt.
"Oh MARVELOUS," she screamed. "I LOVE that ... keep it there, lover."
With his finger deep in the rectum of the world's foremost image of respectability and motherhood, George began to thrust it in and out to the rhythm of his spearing instrument as he socked his belly into hers, she with her mouth still glued to his, suctioning his tongue deep into her throat as though she were imagining that it was a cock.
She raised her big buttocks from the berth and wrapped her long, silken legs around his back and gave impetus to his forward thrusts, her powerful thigh muscles working beneath the sheer black stockings. She twisted her feet a bit so that she could jab her stiletto heels into the back of his calves as though she were spurring him on over the finish line. And in truth he was, towards the finish line of a monumental orgasm. Her digging heels caused delicious pleasure-pains to shoot like electric charges up his legs to explode like a starburst in his wildly flailing, sperm-laden balls as they slapped her buttocks on either side of his working hand in unison to his thrusts.
She too was approaching orgasm and her body had become one of an animal, no longer human, her lovely face twisted and contorted, an expression never seen on the silver screen by her fans.
"O-U-U-U ... FUCK IT HARD - FUCK IT HARD - FUCK IT HARD - FUCK IT HARD," she screamed, using an oral expression that her fans had never heard either, her obscene words oddly going in time to the clickity-click of the wheels on the rail rather than the movement of his tireless fucking.
Then as the train entered a tunnel with a roar, George felt his sperm rocket up his shaft and blast deep into her tunnel and the roar of the train was nothing compared to the roar that escaped the lips of the two wildly thrashing participants on the berth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"You know," she said idly, "you do rather well for a young boy." Elizabeth Conway had regained her composure and was calmly sitting on the edge of the berth replacing her lipstick, her garment down to her ankles once again, the Madonna-like aura surrounding her once again, the only evidence that anything had happened, her flushed cheeks.
But to George her halo had vanished in a babble of obscene words and the most excruciating fuck that he had ever had. No, not even Olga, Mrs. Wainright, Helen or any of her frantic clients could move the way she could, could fuck the way she could. He smiled inwardly at the casual way she had referred to undoubtedly the best fuck she had ever had too. He had grown used to this. Without exception none of the thirty-ish women that he had fucked and most of them were in that age group, had ever given him the compliments that he deserved over the unequalled thrills that he had given them. They always adopted an attitude that seemed to say that they had been mildly interested in going to bed with him just for the unique experience of having a youth fuck them, never daring to admit to him that he had thrilled them as no man, or woman for that matter, had. However the dead giveaway was that they always came back for more, sheepishly because they knew that he must know, but never willing to admit the fact.
And so it was with the aristocratic star. She at least had admitted that he had done "rather well," but it seemed like a left-handed compliment after their tempestuous fuck. George was excited, not so much by her animal-like behavior, but from the incredible possibilities that were open to him. As much as he had enjoyed the debauchery that had occurred night after night at Helen's, he knew that he would be an old man before his time under such conditions; he would go downhill faster than an alcoholic or a dope addict. Now once again if he played his cards right he could live in the lap of luxury with only this amazing star's sexual cravings to take care of. He decided to tease her a little to see just how much his great cock had meant to her.
"You weren't too bad either, lady," George said as he hoisted his limp but still elongated shaft in the air, holding it before his open fly for a moment so that she might drool over it, then stuffed it in and zipped up, then walking toward the compartment door. "I better go, I get off at Indian Head Lake."
"Wait-wait," she exclaimed, gesturing towards him with her graceful hand, unable to disguise her frantic tone, "I'm getting off there also. I have to make a personal appearance at a summer stock theater."
"What do you mean 'personal appearance,' do you clean up after the show or something?"
"Good heavens no," she laughed. "I ... I'm an actress, I'm surprised you haven't seen me in the movies."
"Aw shucks, I only go to see monster pictures ... you been in any of them?"
She burst into peals of laughter over this, then giggled, "No I'm afraid not, just the opposite. I'm usually in love stories."
"Oh those nudies ... I tried to get in to see one once and the manager said I wasn't old enough. Judging from a few minutes ago you should really be a star in them ... "
"Oh my goodness no," she blushed. "I act in love stories ... old fashioned love stories."
"Aw those mushy things, I can't stand them."
"You know, sonny, there's one type of movie that you could be a REAL big star in."
"Yeah, what're they called?"
"Pornographic ... you don't know what the word means of course but they're something like 'nudies' but they go just a bit further ... I ... even have a little company of my own that makes them. I get lots of tax-free money that way. Also I get a strange kick out of acting in them myself occasionally."
"But don't your fans recognize them?" George asked breathlessly, realizing the bombshell she had just dropped in his lap.
"Well first of all the type of person who goes to see my films wouldn't be caught dead at a pornographic film ... anyway I have a make-up artist change my features completely so that I'm not taking any chances with my career ... are you interested?" she asked, her jutting breasts shaking with her excited breathing.
"How far would I have to go?" George asked, trying to disguise his interest, "as far as ... we went?"
"Even farther."
"Even FURTHER ... how can you go any further?"
"Oh why don't we leave the details till later ... if you'll say yes I'll get down on my knees and French you right where you are."
"French me ... what's that."
"Suck your cock, silly."
She sucked his cock.
* * *
They got off the train together and found a sizable group of her friends awaiting her. She coquettishly held down her skirt so that no more than her ankle was revealed as though it were Victorian times. George was delighted to see that a chauffeur-driven limousine awaited them as she stood for a few minutes signing autographs.
Later when they entered a luxurious hotel that bordered the lake, George was amazed that it took four bellhops to carry her luggage. They were ushered into the V.I.P. suite and George was amazed once again as she handed each one a ten dollar bill. Brother, had he struck it rich.
"I have to get ready for my afternoon appearance," she said sweetly as the astounded bellhops left. "Why don't you take a nap? You didn't have any sleep last night, you must be dead. Before you do though, would you mind calling up the local camera store and rent a sixteen millimeter movie projector for me? ... make sure it takes sound and ask them to send a portable screen with it."
George awakened to the intoxicating aroma of a fragile French perfume and a pair of soft lips pressed to his forehead. He opened his eyes to an intricate series of dark and light patterns, then he realized that it was Elizabeth, with her black lace mantilla draped over his face.
"You DID have quite a nap, didn't you?" she cooed as she pressed the tips of her slender fingers against his cheeks, fingering the boyish hairlessness of him. "Now get up, it's time for the 'early show.'"
As George rose to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain, she went to her luggage and took out a large reel of film from a case. She went to a table where an impressive looking movie projector had been set up and expertly threaded the film.
"Gee you're pretty good at that," George admired. "What is it, 'The Roadrunner?'"
"No, I'm afraid you won't see much road running in this film, they'd all be arrested," she giggled as she walked around the room turning off the lights, finally seating herself in a large upholstered chair by the projector. "Come sit in my lap and watch the show."
"Oh, I'm too heavy for that," George said, irked a bit that she was treating him like a child.
"Oh, you're really a small boy ... most of your weight is in your ... well, you know what I mean," she giggled.
"It's good for you that I have it where it counts most," he said proudly, as he walked towards her, lewdly thrusting his slim hips forward to emphasize the massiveness of his crotch area.
"Georgie, that's a terrible way for a boy to speak," she said with feigned irritation. "Mommy doesn't like to hear you talk naughty like that."
"Oh, so she's the type that likes to make believe that there is a mother-son relationship ... I've run into that before a few times," George mused. "It gets me excited too, this should be fun."
He sat down on her lap and wiggled his shoulders between her big orbs, enjoying the warm sensation of her big nipples burning through his thin summer shirt. She sighed and flicked on the projector, then dropped her hands on his thighs, leaving them there in a relaxed way.
The picture, in full color and sound, started in an innocent enough way. The scene was the living room of an apartment, with a blonde seated on a couch casually reading a magazine, her black nyloned legs crossed, the top one waving back and forth in that maddening way women have when they are irritated, or when they crave something and in this case George was certain that it was a big fat cock.
Then he let out a gasp as his eyes became accustomed to the bright light on the screen and he could see her more clearly. At first the blonde had seemed terribly fat, but then he realized that all of her fat was in her bust, it was immense, making Helen's seem like Twiggy's. The doorbell rang and she got to her feet; George gasped again. Her melons were so gigantic that they overlapped all of her rib-cage, their bottom edges almost at her navel. Her long, slender legs, clad in their exciting covering of sheer black nylon seemed to start directly below her breasts, giving the impression that nature hadn't bothered to give her a torso. A tight silk frock did its best to contain the twin monsters, but as she walked towards the door they flopped about so wildly that George fully expected bits of material to explode all over the room.
"She really has a pair of hangers, doesn't she?" Elizabeth gushed into George's ear, seemingly as excited by their sight as he was; giving George the impression that at one time or another she had seen them at close range, VERY close range. Well if it was the last thing he did, he was going to see them at close range too. They were so huge that he could love them with both hands and both bare feet too. The intensity of the star's breathing increased in George's ear as he felt fingers fumbling at his fly. "I had a terrible time getting her to act in my films ... the moment I saw her working in a department store I knew she could make me a fortune ... well it cost me a fortune to sign her up."
"What's her name?" George gasped.
"Dolly ... she never has revealed her last name for reasons that will be obvious as the film progresses," the star said excitedly as she reached into George's open fly and unbuttoned his underpants, then sliding her cool fingers inside to probe the immensity of his expanding cock. "Oh what a team you two could make. I'd bill you as 'the couple with the mostest.'"
The fantastic blonde opened the door to a grotesque giant of a man, so huge that he filled up the entire doorway. He grinned, exposing a set of irregular, smoke-stained teeth. "I've come fer the rent, lady."
"I'm afraid I don't have the rent for you today," the blonde cooed in a deep, throaty voice.
"Aw have a heart, lady ... I just fucked the broad next door fer her rent," he said wearily.
"O.K. so if it's variety you want, this time you'll get Frenched," she giggled as she grabbed his coat and dragged him into the room.
Elizabeth's breathing was now a wild torrent in George's ear as she hoisted his great pole from his trousers and began to give it a slow jerk.
"O.K.-O.K ... but I wanna feel them big tits a yers first, they're really somethin'", he said as he stared down at what George was certain was the deepest cleavage in the world
"Oh you like my titties, do you," she said wickedly, shaking her torso so that her monstrous orbs flopped about like twin balloons in a gale, at the same time reaching down and deftly unzipping his fly. "How would you like to fuck me there?"
His pig eyes narrowed and George could see that he was getting excited as he reached out and yanked the thin straps to her gown down over her shoulders and two monstrous mounds of molescent flesh plopped into view, capped by brownish aureoles the size of grapefruits. The great, fiery-red nipples centered therein were as long as most men's limp cocks ... in short she was breathtaking.
"Now watch what she does next," the star whispered excitedly, "she really knows how to use her tits.
It didn't take the blonde long to prove it to George as she sank to her knees, at the same time hoisting a rampant cock from his trousers. It was a formidable weapon indeed, not so long or as fat as George's, but after all whose was. She didn't have to hold it up, it was like a steel poker, ramrod stiff and ready for action.
The blonde lifted her great melons up and sucked her great nipples into further erection, her avid eyes staring at his great cock-head dripping fluid on the rug. Then as though she were wearing inflated balloons for mittens she lifted them up on either side of his long shaft and clapped them together, his massive prick now a delighted prisoner of the foam rubber-like softness of her great orbs.
George was flabbergasted. Never had he seen anything equal to it. She had moved her breasts about as though they weren't attached to her body, first to her lips, then almost a foot away to envelop his cock. Somewhere nature had missed, all women should have tits like this. It added a new, exciting dimension to sex.
Then she leaned forward and an incredible thing happened. The giant head of his prick burst through her cleavage like a giant missile, bursting clear of the water from an underwater atomic submarine. She opened her lush lips wide and took it into the boiling confines of her mouth. Once her lips clamped down on it she became carnivorous. The sound track gave off loud, wet, sucking sounds as she literally gobbled up the juicy cock-head, her blonde hair flailing back and forth as she jerked her head violently from side to side.
George hardly noticed as Elizabeth twisted him on her lap and jammed her own lush lips over his knob and worked just as greedily on it as the blonde was in the film. Then the blonde drew back, the giant's slippery knob slipping from her mouth and his rock-stiff pulsating tool vanished once again into the chasm between her monstrous balloons. She moved back and forth rapidly now, her woman created cunt of breast flesh now as well lubricated with his sex juices as her cunt would be. Only this way she was able to create much more friction by jamming her great orbs around his cock with all of the strength in her strong arms.
As his cock would emerge from her cleavage, the blonde would cling to it with her eager lips for a moment then emerge from her mouth with a loud smacking sound as his prong started its return journey into the deep depths of her cleavage.
As the blonde worked away in her wanton fashion on the giant's staff, George was becoming increasingly aware of the fiery sensations that the star was creating with her own ravenous lips, her mantilla-covered head bobbing up and down, her eyes at all times glued to the frantic action that was taking place on the screen.
Then George felt his balls begin to pulsate as the sperm gathered for its upward journey and at the same moment he saw the giant tense. Simultaneously two female heads were literally blasted off the heads of two cocks. Neither as expert as Terry had been, both experienced great difficulty in regaining their mutual prizes as blast after blast spewed into their faces, ricocheting in all directions, both on the screen and live in the V.I.P. suite.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
George was shook up. It hadn't occurred to him that the room would be brilliantly lit up with floodlights; it looked so natural on the screen. It hadn't occurred to him that there would be a cameraman, a sound technician and a lighting specialist. But most of all it hadn't occurred to him that there would be a director, especially a director who was looking at his hanging cock and balls as though he were a gourmet licking his lips over a delectable meal.
The technicians were completely oblivious of him and this was fortunate, as they busied themselves with readying their equipment, while Elizabeth Conway was readying George's equipment by anointing his cock and balls with baby oil till they shone like well-waxed wood.
"It comes through better on the film if your cock glows like a beacon," she had said. "It drives women wild and they usually turn to their husbands and snap, 'Why doesn't your mangy old thing shine like that?'"
Yes he was shook up, but not so much so that he wasn't delirious with anticipation over his momentous meeting with the huge-breasted Dolly. He hadn't seen her as yet, but he knew that their meeting would be a monumental one.
"All right, Miss Conway," the director snapped enviously as though she were just one of the hired help. "You're getting carried away with yourself, the poor lad's penis was anointed enough five minutes ago ... he'll be ready to shoot before we will."
There were hearty guffaws of laughter at this from the technicians and the tension was broken as George couldn't resist joining in. He even shook his torso a bit as she released him with a resultant great swaying of cock and balls, as though saying, "Eat your heart out, you queer, you're not eating me."
"Really, George, that was obscene," the star exclaimed, not able to suppress a giggle of her own, as the chastised director slumped in his chair, tearing his greedy eyes from George's unprivate parts.
"Use that, son," he said, all business now. "Sway your penis and testicles like that when you approach her at the end of the first scene, that'll really get the women."
George had been quite startled when Elizabeth had told him that just about as many women as men are hooked on the habit of viewing pornographic films. All male eyes would be on Dolly, while female eyes would be devouring him, so it was up to him, she had said, to play up to the women, leaving the men up to the fantastic Dolly. Sex is a tremendous business in this country today and it isn't limited to men alone.
George was amazed. He had always assumed that pornographic; films were always shown at men's smokers, or in the back of pool halls, after closing time. But she had told him that he would be amazed at the number of exclusive women's clubs that bought her products.
In this film George was to play the part of a young thief who climbs through the window of a mansion and tries to open a wall safe. The camera will then show Dolly, semi-dressed they had said, combing her hair by her dressing table when she suddenly hears noises downstairs. She discovers him and he is terrified, while she, filled with sexual cravings for the handsome lad, tried to seduce him. The rest of the film will be her eventual seduction of him.
Elizabeth handed George a pair of sneakers, chinos and a T-shirt and told him to put them on. There was a sad look on the director's face as George's huge pecker disappeared into his chinos. The scenery department had built a partition at the end of the room with elegant paneling and a large French window in it. George opened the window and climbed through, then closed it behind him.
"Lights ... action ... camera," the director shouted and George could hear the whirring of the cameras. "Count to five then proceed," the director had said and George complied. A spotlight simulating moonlight shone on him from his side of the partition as he opened the window slowly and looked warily inside, turning his head from side to side so that the women could see how handsome he was. He crept easily, noiselessly inside and made his way to a great portrait that hung on an inside wall.
He made certain to bump it against the wall as he moved it aside, as this had to be the sound that Dolly heard and started to finger the dials of the exposed wall safe, first rubbing his fingers with a piece of sandpaper to show that although youthful, he was no amateur.
Then he stood startled, fearful, as he heard the click-click of stiletto heels on the stairs. He looked that way but actually he was seething inside at the mere thought of seeing Dolly in a state of undress.
The director had insisted that George not meet Dolly before the actual filming as it would be bound to add a touch of realism to the performance. "The young cock will naturally be terrified at the sight of Dolly's unbelievable pulchritude," he had said.
George waited breathlessly as Dolly's shadow preceded her into the room. The sharply defined shadow was created by a spotlight set up outside the doorway to suggest a hall light. The camera focused on the shadow designed to create a tremendous sense of anticipation in the audience ... and much could be told from it. It elongated her figure considerably, but nothing could elongate the monstrous breasts that were jouncing about on the brilliantly lit carpet. She walked slowly to let the effect sink in. Then a long, lovely leg, clad in gossamer black nylon appeared in the open doorway, followed shortly by Dolly herself, a fantastic, unbelievable Dolly, clad only in her long black stockings anchored by long black garter straps that traced their way up over her soft thighs and slightly bulging tummy to disappear under her magnificent naked melons that were jiggling about as though they were held in the firm grip of an automatic paint can shaker. There must be a garter belt, there had to be, but it was completely hidden from view by her great, overlapping breasts. Framed between the innermost straps was a great mass of blonde pubic hair, with the pinkness of her cunt-lips showing through.
George gasped ... he just couldn't help it.
"CUT!!" the director screamed. "That gasp wasn't called for, please don't improvise ... now lights, camera, action."
"Why young man ... what are you doing in my home," Dolly exclaimed, but with no fright in her voice, a look of desire coming into her lovely eyes as she stared at George's magnificent physique and bulging crotch, making George wonder if it was mere acting alone.
"Oh, please don't call the police, ma'am," George stammered and the stammering wasn't acting, it was the real thing as his fetish for huge breasts enveloped him once again with an intensity never known to him before. "My mother needs an operation and I just HAD to get the money some way."
"Oh you poor boy," Dolly cooed huskily, walking towards him slowly, her monstrous orbs swaying like two half-inflated blimps in a gentle breeze. "I understand ... don't look so frightened I'm not going to hurt you."
George stood mesmerized, his eyes almost popping out of his head as he stared at the mobile bust. In the boiling confinement of his chinos his cock was speeding to erection in record time.
"CUT," screamed the director. "You weren't supposed to get an erection till page three in the second act script ... you're supposed to be frightened ... terrified, not sexy, that all comes in the last act."
"Don't be so critical, Michael," Elizabeth snapped, for the first time showing her authority. "I knew you were wrong in having Georgie meet Dolly for the first time just wearing a garter belt and black stockings. Wouldn't any red blooded youth get a hard on at the sight of her like that?"
"I guess you're right at that," Michael said sheepishly. "It just never occurred to me ... if we can't cure this problem we've got no script."
"Does the script really matter that much in this case, Michael?" the star said, using her sweetest tone now. "After all, the audience is going to be so wild over the sight of their ... er ... unusual sexual equipment shall we say, that I doubt if they hear a word they say."
"It's true," Michael sighed enviously. "He does have some cock. The women will probably be screaming so much they'll drown out the sound track ... tell me, son, do you have any control over your dick at ALL. Do you think if you can concentrate you can get us into the second act at least?"
"I'm sorry, sir," George said sheepishly, blushing a deep red. "I'm afraid I could never look at Dolly without his getting all big ... "
"Why you darling boy," Dolly gushed. "That's the sweetest compliment a girl ever received."
"Hey Joe, get that blush," Michael shouted as he noted the color of George's face. "That's better than his acting afraid ... no one can fake a blush, it's impossible ... LIGHTS-ACTION-CAMERA!"
As Dolly sidled up to the handsome lad, her gorgeous legs in their exciting covering of sheer black hose shimmering in the bright lights, her great teats swaying pendulously, she knew that she would have to improvise from now on, but that wasn't going to be difficult after the terrible assortment of men that she had had to put up with in the past films. This handsome youth with a lump in his trousers that promised something fantastic was getting to her.
"I'll bet it hasn't been long since you used to suck your thumb when you were upset, sonny, perhaps if you sucked on this you might feel better," Dolly said softly, hoisting a gigantic orb and stuffing the sausage-like nipple into George's gaping mouth.
"Brilliant," Michael whispered. "This is going to be priceless."
George began to suck greedily on the giant appendage and things began to happen fast as the two performers became caught up in their passion.
Dolly deftly unzipped George's fly and hoisted his rampant cock out into the glare of the spotlights, hefting it, with palm underneath so that the cameras could get the full effect in a close-up shot. At the same time she reached in with her other hand and scooped up his massive balls and let them tumble from her hands as she removed them so that they danced yo-yo-like over the front of his chinos, almost to his knees.
"Oh brother, will that get the broads," Michael whispered ... "This is terrific."
"Sonny, where in the world did you ever get a pecker like this?" Dolly exclaimed as her fingers, now wrapped tenaciously around his fat shaft, began to give it a slow jerk, at the same time reaching down with her other hand and cupping a great ball-cock she hoisted it up for another camera close-up.
"I lived with my parents in India for a while and I caught elephantiasis of the cock and balls," George said seriously.
The technicians had to clap their hands over their mouths to keep from bursting into laughter at this, as Michael whispered excitedly, "What improvisation ... the kid's a natural."
"Well if you had to catch elephantiasis, sonny, you certainly couldn't have picked a better place to get it," Dolly cooed.
"That settles it, we'll never use a script with these two again," Michael whispered. "They have a fantastic rapport."
"Golly, elephantiasis of the cock must hurt something terrible, sonny, I have a little place you can put it that will make it feel MUCH better," she said soothingly, "let me show you."
Dolly led George by his great prong over to the bed. She lay on her back and spread her lovely long legs, scissoring them in the air, her palpitating pink cunt gaping wide. "That's the little place ... you like?"
"I'll never get him in there," George said bluntly.
"Oh you'll be surprised how much it stretches," she giggled, her slender fingers now toying with the foreskin oh George's uncapped knob.
Instinctively George pressed forward a bit, just enough to cause his engorged cock-head to slide out. Its redness was like that of a ripe plum against the creamy whiteness of her hand, shimmering with the come juice that was dangling in sticky strings to the carpet. Dolly slid her gyrating buttocks toward him and rubbed the fiery knob about in her massive bush, then centered it between the wet lips. George socked it into her, not the way the frightened youth in the movie would have; more like a bull who hadn't fucked in a month.
Dolly moaned incoherently as she felt the immensity of his skewering cock as it jammed tirelessly in and out, in and out. The smooth, slippery folds of her vagina squeezed tightly around his rigid shaft as she enjoyed to the utmost every inch of his steel-like, pulsing cock.
On every down stroke George's huge balls slapped against her lush buttocks, occasionally pausing with his prick deep inside her to wiggle, so that she might enjoy the tantalizing sensation of his hairy nuts pressing into the wet, stretched crevice below her vagina.
"Get a worm's eye view of his ball action," Michael whispered. The cameraman spun a wheel and the camera lowered. Then he wheeled it in below George's wildly flailing ball-cocks for a close-up.
The participants had long forgotten the fact that there were others present; that there was a movie being taken, both caught up in a sexual madness that they had never known-a total surrender to their wild cravings.
There was someone else that was giving way to her own wild cravings. Elizabeth Conway, known throughout the world as representing the zenith of respectability in this sordid world, had her make-up artist apply enough feminine war-paint to disguise her. The sight of this handsome youth fucking Dolly with the largest cock in captivity had just been too much for her tortured senses to stand. She ran into the scene, literally ripping her clothes off. She threw herself on her knees behind George's slapping testicles.
"You can have his cock, Dolly ... I WANT HIS BALLS," she screamed as she caught them in mid air on the back-swing, jamming as much of one in her wide-open mouth as she could get, sucking-sucking-sucking till the rest of it slipped in.
George was in a delirium of sexual excitement ... the two of them, so lovely ... so all consuming. Through the dense fog of passion he was vaguely aware of a loud crash ... loud voices ... but he didn't care ... just these two devouring females mattered ... but the word that found its way through to his fevered brain mattered ... "ARREST" ...
The next day the headlines read: "POLICE ARRIVE JUST IN TIME TO PREVENT MOVIE STAR ELIZABETH CONWAY AND A GROUP OF DEVIATES FROM RAPING A HELPLESS YOUTH."