With his erect cock nestled in the warm, stroking haven of soft female hands, the man groaned.
She slid her hand over the large expanding head and down and down the shaft until she was fondling the hairy purse of sperm-stuffed balls. It was a big cock, thick and lengthy. The balls were big, too, like eggs in their bag covered with soft fur.
"I love your cock," she murmured.
"Umm-I love what you're doing with it!" he said, pulling his lips from around her nipple long enough to make the enthusiastic statement, then going right back to sucking and licking again.
His back arched and he writhed when her palm cupped his balls and her fingers pressed them. That felt so good-and he was sure the pleasure was heightened by the fact that his testicles were so vulnerable, so easily hurt, and the possibility was always there. He didn't want them hurt! But...he supposed there was a bit of masochistic tendency in everyone. He was glad his was buried deep. He wasn't interested in being anyone's victim or slave.
Clay McConnel had had a bitch of a time in the army, because he didn't even take orders well, much less suck and be subservient the way some of those clowns expected, with their stripes or the metal gleaming on their shoulders.
"I like these, too," she said, letting her hand absorb and radiate the swollen heat of his nuts. "No I don't-I love them!"
"Gmmmmm," he said. He pressed himself against the ripe curves of her tensing thighs as he nursed greedily on the thick, stubby bull's-eye of her more than enticing breast.
"Ummmm," she responded, almost echoing him. "Oh that's so nice...boy I'm glad you like my breast!"
He squeezed the one he was sucking and tugged so hard at it with his mouth, he seemed to be trying to suck the stiff fleshy peak down his throat.
She slid her hand up and down the shank of his penis, definitely fascinated with it. "Umm-mmm. Oh Clay-y...was I wicked to come over here tonight without a bra, so you could do this?"
"Not wicked," he told her. "Smart. If you hadn't, I'd have torn this little blouse the rest of the way off."
"The rest of the way?" she asked, with a giggle in her voice. She looked dotingly down on the top of his head.
"Well-there ain't a hell of a lot of it to begin with," he said, moving his lips against her stiff tittytip, making it wiggle like a thick directional antenna.
It was true; the blouse was poorboy-styled, with a deeply scooped neckline. Or rather, bust-line. Tit-line. The breast he was pressing so fondly and sucking with such loving, titillating avidity, he had scooped forth...she still wore her blouse. And her belted, bell-bottomed pants, which were a slightly lighter purple than the blouse-which was more like a tee shirt, really, though it was of knitted nylon.
Clay McConnel sighed around the warm titty to which he was paying his respects. Tonight, he thought. Tonight...she comes out of her damned clothes at last. God but I want in this woman!
She was Alison Spencer, and this was their fourth date. It seemed that they'd known each other a lot longer, though. The first time he met her, through one coincidence and one accident, they had talked well over an hour, unaware of anyone else in the coffee shop. Both had been anxious to continue that conversation. like him, she was a fan of science fiction, loved John Norman's Gor series. like him again, she was a definite believer in territoriality and inherent traits as opposed to the views of the pure-environment behaviorists who were currently swaying the minds of so many with their unfortunate errors.
Alison was pretty, a girl with big pushy breasts and an extraordinarily tiny waist. That was nice. Nicer was the combination: in addition to her carnally intriguing body, she had a mind, and in working condition at that.
That same night of their first meeting, they got together again. They did nothing but talk for six solid hours. With a girl who looked the way she did, that was fantastic. Never had he met anyone he liked so much and was so comfortable with!
On their second night together she was more than ready to wind up their conversation with kissing and petting. To have her big breasts mauled, and she made lovely turned-on noises. But-she would not have her clothing opened. Disappointed, he went along. He was no rapist. Besides, he liked her. He didn't know-or rather hadn't known that such a thing existed, but: he had an idea he was falling in love.
Clay was delighted to discover that Alison was happy to handle his penis, to jack him lovingly off-and to be diddled, too; finger-fucked. Hers was the hottest pussy he'd ever touched.
He did a lot more than touch that soft, wet, hot-pussy.
The same thing happened twice more. No way she'd even allow her clothes to be so much as opened.
Now, on their fifth date, here at his apartment, she had at last come up with a solution. She had worn the deeply-scooped blouse, and no brassiere. And he had a handful-and overflowing-and a mouthful of fine large Alison Spencer tit.
Naturally, it wasn't enough.
"It's so hard" she said, squeezing his cock strongly and noting that it hardly yielded to the pressure of her fingers. "And yet so satiny soft. The skin...umm! I just LOVE it!"
Slowly, very slowly she wanked and frigged it, with a relentless but carefully gentle ardor. The delighted young woman felt him begin to shiver and rock and suck hard at her breast as she gently jacked him, tugging the loose, circumcised foreskin up and down over the shining glans and then allowing her sweaty fist to glide back down the hard, rigid male length.
She smiled happily. Even rigidly erect like this, it was just deliciously tender and vulnerable in her caressive grasp.
Abruptly he came jerkily up from her wettened breast and grabbed her the old Gable way, surrounding her with his arms. His tongue moved on an aggressively probing expedition into the liquid warmth of her mouth. His breath came fast and hard, and his nostrils flared. He kissed her strongly, moving his mouth, crushing her lips.
His brain was practically spinning. God, but he wanted her! He wanted to rape and ravish, without letup, every entry into her jerking, squirming body. The object would be to break her, to make her regret her keep-away attitude, to make her forget who she was and where she was and the very why of her existence.
A bundle of throbbing energy grew extravagantly between his legs, where his genitals lay outside his shorts, which had long ago become stuffed to the bursting point. His balls tensed, ached with the need to be freed of their imprisoned load, to blow loose into the voluptuously ripe form pressed so firmly against him.
With one hand he grasped her crotch, hard. She moaned into his mouth. Her trousered legs parted more. Willingly, she yielded up her soft hot pussy-so long as it remained clothed!
His hand slid up to the opening of her pants. Immediately he felt her back tense, and Alison's hand came to his, covered it, pressed it to her but away from the fastening of her bell-bottoms. Damn! This was the way it had been when he was thirteen, and all he'd wanted was a feel of some tit, but the so uptight owners of those intriguing bumps had nearly always got hold of his hand and moved it firmly elsewhere.
He seethed. He felt his pulse beating hard in his head, knew he'd have a headache if she jacked him off even twice or three times. He was going to fucking well blow fucking up!
With a jerk he parted their mouths. She looked at him, a little bewildered.
"God damn it, what IS this, keep away? I can't-I'm going out of my damned-we can't just keep on this way, damn it!"
Her lip trembled and her eyes went all stricken. "Oh Clay-can't we just-"
"NO!" he exploded, and Clay McConnel did what he never thought he would. Lust-driven, his mind in the control of his balls, he went into something approaching the old berserker rage of the super warriors of another time. But, it wasn't ten or twenty heads he was driven to strike off with his sword or ax.
No-his hand just shot up, out, grabbed the front of her blouse, right between the bared breast and the one still inside. He yanked, hard, while his other hand pressed her back against his couch.
She lurched forward with a groan; he pushed her back, yanked again.
The scoop-neck purple blouse tore jaggedly, down past her waist. Both her tits, pale as though they'd never seen the sun and firm and outstanding as though they defied their own size, came spilling floppily free...and stayed up and out.
The berserk rage left him as he stared. Not at her tits-at what else he had revealed in his destruction of her blouse.
A tear slipped out of her left eye and slipped unsteadily down her cheek.
He had never seen such an undergarment as this woman wore. Black, shiny like leather, it encased her body from just beneath her breasts all the way down-and vanished into her waistband.
He put forth a hand to touch the corset. It was cool, totally smooth and soft to the touch, like the petal of a rose. like leather. But it was not leather.
She made a whimpering sound. Her shoulders sagged, and those irrepressibly upstanding tits drooped a little, like unwatered flowers. Now she made no effort to stay his hand, as he opened her pants. A bit roughly, he forced her back onto the couch so that he could slide her purple pants under her ass and well down her thighs-which were beautiful.
"What is it? I mean-what's it made of?" The thing was a corset, not a girdle. It began well up on her rib cage, just at the bases of her tits, and held her like a vise, and encased her, all the way down to her crotch hair.
"L...latex," she mumbled, softly sobbing.
Wondering how it had been got on so tightly, he turned her-treating her like a child, or a slave, or more properly what she had become: a resigned, willingly malleable package that he was welcome to undress, twist, turn, examine, with quivery hands and staring eyes.
"Jesus!"
In back, the corset of shining black vinyl laced, all the way. Rawhide thongs were crisscrossed, drawn through twenty grommeted holes. The ends of the lacing were tied in many knots. She could not have done it. Someone had put this thing around her, from behind, and laced it up, and then tightened those laces-and then tightened them again, surely-and tied them, knotted the laces, again and again and again.
He touched it-her. His finger slid down the slicky smooth stuff, following the deeply indented outline of her waist. Latex, she said. Yes. But it certainly wasn't like any raincoat he'd ever seen or touched!
"Alison? Tell me about this."
"I...I...now you know-no n-now you kn-know why I didn't w-want you to take off my clothes!"
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
"Tell...you what?"
"Just tell me about it, damn it!"
"I-I'm not allowed to take it off...."
"ALLOWED!"
She sniffed. "Um-hm, allowed," she said, twitching with a little sob. "My-my parents...it's part of my figure training. That's why I go home every Wednesday and Sunday."
She was a college senior. Clay worked in an insurance office.
"Every Wed-you mean that you wear this from Monday morning to Wednesday night, without taking it off, and then from Thursday to Sunday?"
She whispered: "Yes."
"Jesus." Again, he let his fingers trace over the garment-it was so soft, so slickly smooth, so sensuous ! "It doesn't...bother you?"
"Not much. I'm used to it."
"But you have to sleep in it...used to it?"
"Um-hmm." She would not look at him.
Far, he thought, fuckin' out! He shook his head, staring, feeling. Why was it a woman was so incredibly damned fuckin' sexy in something like this, all constricting, nipping her in the way the Victorian women were in their wasp-waists, the stuff so black and shining and sexy in contrast with her skin, making her look so pale, so sweet and-sexy! Far fucking out, he mused again. His hands couldn't stop moving over it, moving over her, in it.
"Even when you sleep . .
"like you said. From Sunday morning...unless I come back Saturday night...until Wednesday night when I go up home again, and then from Thursday morning till Sunday again.
"And you didn't want me to know about it.
That's why you've always kept your clothes so...virginal. That's why you left off a bra and wore this blouse tonight-so I could get at you, a little, without hassling you about your clothes."
"Yes!"
"Training...your...figure." He shook his head. Far fuckin' OUT! "And...boy has it done the job. Al-Alison...what is your figure? Aside from absolutely great, I mean."
She still would not look at him. She was limp, as if defeated, beaten, terribly humiliated. "I...you mean...measurements? Oh that's so silly ll mean-those endless girls in Playboy, with the measurements duly given...like a litany, nearly always the same, and all the other magazines following along like dogs after a bitch, pantingly putting down the measurements of each girl. Besides, they never-"
"It must be important to the Spencer family," he pointed out, "since they put this fantastic corset on you for figure training!" He continued stroking it. It warmed up, under his hands. "Oh-sorry. I interrupted-"
"I was going to s-say...and they never give the cup size-all the other part does is tell whether a girl's thick in the ribs and broad across the back!'
Hmm, he thought, she is proud of her figure. She knows she's got absolutely great tits...and she's proud of 'em, and whatever cup size she takes I
He said, "True. What are your measurements, Alison? I mean, I can see this thing nips in your waist to something fantastic-"
Alison heaved a sigh; he saw the light reflections change on the surface of the vinyl sheath, as her ribs expanded beneath it. A little I
"Forty," she said, "Forty...twenty...thirty-seven."
"KeeRIST! Ten inches difference between bust and waist is supposed to be such a big deal, the perfect figure-and you're TWENTY inches different!"
A whisper: "Yes."
"Wow! Oh-you mentioned cup size." At last dragging his hand-one of them-away from her latex-sheathed torso, he cupped one lovely warm breast. "C?"
"Forty-B," she said, "They...look bigger, because my waist is so tiny."
"They sure do!" he said, with an appreciative laugh.
"I know," she said in a tiny, resigned voice. "It's...isn't it ridiculous?"
"RIDICULOUS!" He jerked as if kicked, then twisted around, lifted a hand to cup her chin and force her face up. Her wet eyes, all sad and mournful, met his with reluctance.
"Ridicidous!" he repeated, in that same incredulous tone. "Oh honey-you're beautiful! I love it! You're-you're the sexiest, this is the sexiest thing I ever saw!"
She blinked. "You mean...you mean you actually like me in this teeny corset Mom and Dad make me wear?"
"-like you-I love it."
"You-you're not put off by it? Really."
"Alison-would you mind just inspecting my cock?"
She looked down. Her mouth rounded, as did her eyes. If it was possible, he had a bigger erection now than he had ten minutes ago. It hadn't just stayed; the big stalk had swelled, turning dark, almost mauve in its deep-purplish, blood pulsing pink.
"Oh-h-h-h," she said, cooing, and her hand went immediately to that beautiful joystick.
"I love it, Alison," he repeated.
She broke forth in such a sunny smile that he could almost believe she'd been faking her tearfulness. "Um-m-m-mmm. Oh Clay...you...you're hurting my nipples, Clay. And...I LOVE it!"
"Good. You're going to love this big cock in you, too." He had taken over. He wasn't about to back up or cease pushing. His hands moved over her breasts, squeezing and cupping and tenderly fondling, and then slid down, too, to gain frequent feels of that super sexy latex "skin."
Her hand tightened convulsively about his prick. "Oh Clay! YES! I'm already just hung up on this outsize machine of yours! It's just fantastic ! I've wanted it in me since I first saw, that very first time, what a package it made in your pants!"
He grinned joyfully. "Well-get those pants the rest of the way off and get ready to be stuffed, Miss Super sexy!"
She flashed him a huge smile. Her hands yanked off the rest of her clothes-except that black, shining second skin-as if she were in an undressing contest. "I like that kind of talk, Mister Super sexy! And you'd better get undressed, too, and fast. Give it to me, oh yes give it to me-from behind Clay, from behind!"
Up went his eyebrows, climbing as if to an invasion of his hairline, when she slipped off the couch and hit her hands and knees on the floor. He stared at the shining rounds of her upturned ass-cheeks, at the way tufts of pubic hair showed through between her parted thighs.
Clay got out of his clothes as if he were in an undressing contest.
The kneeling girl steadied herself with her palms against the rug, spreading her legs further apart and thrusting her sassy buttocks upward invitingly. The doll with the fantastic measurements was bent so that the halves of her rump, her pushily delectable ass, were parted to reveal the cavity of her anus at the bottom center of the deep, heat-radiant division.
Below that, her parted cunt waited hungrily.
The fires of lust were about to burn his balls off, he was sure. Better make use of them fast while he had 'em! His knees thudded to the floor behind her.
Leaning into the smooth white bubbles of her ass, he tucked in his own buttocks and let inch after inch of lustily inflated cock run up into her pussy.
Keeping it slow, he savored the caress of membranous vaginal walls along the sensitive column he buried in her-and the caress of her latex hands under his stroking fingers.
"Damnation," he groaned fervently, "but your pussy feels good!"
She was past words. "Um-m-m-m-m-mmmmmm !"
The kneeling girl pressed back to impale herself on his hard-on. As if her delighted purr hadn't been enough; he didn't need words when she made sex-pleased sounds like that, and gorged her pussy on his cock!
He hunched her sexy, jiggling ass, digging into her.
"Oooooooh," she moaned, shuddering. "Fuck me forever, ForEVER!! "
He pumped hard, fast, smacking her ass with his loins, bent forward over her upturned ass so he could keep his hands on that exciting slick latex-sheathed waist that was so tiny it was hardly a waist. Each had jolt against the juddering fine roundness of her ass smacked the tensing globes and stuck her deep up the vagina to wrench deep moans from her.
Dangling from her bent, kneeling body, big globular breasts became heavy ovals that tugged relentlessly at her chest. She knelt mewing, feeling that delicious friction within her body, way up her pussy, feeling the heavy thud-thud of his cock as it beat within her with the pounding of his pulse, the hard slaps of his lower belly and crotch against the luscious white meat of her silky rear ovals.
"Good, Good! YES! Pound my ass!" Happily he pounded her ass, felt the oiled silk sheath of her cunt clasping and stroking his cock, felt its powerful muscles clenching in a hot crushing pressure all around his rigid bone.
He was writhing against the perfect curves of her rump in an accelerating tide of sensual desire and soaring pleasure. Those flames of passion still flickered in his hotly swollen balls, as he hung onto her squirmy assglobes and probed her cunt in riotous, burning need and bliss.
Into her comforting female flesh he funneled, dog-fucking, nuzzling up inside her warm and welcoming belly. His hands went rushing around her, the silky, sexy latex brushing his arms. He grabbed her dangling tits. "Oh!"
He lifted the bosomy masses, twisted them, fingers sinking into pliant flesh-as his cock sank into pliant wet flesh.
"HUH-oh-h-hh!"
His nails dug in, and she groaned and squirmed-which action circled her clasping pussy all around the wedging stalk of his meat. Vibrantly insistent, his hands twisted those opulent knockers and rearranged their satiny conformations.
"Ow...oh...OH-uh, oh baby...." She quivered in accelerated lust and tried to womb herself by cramming back onto his cock.
The latex-sheathed, quivering, so white body was shaken by shooting little tingles of pain and wanton lust. His cock sank very deep.
The passion-driven man fucked her hard and worried the love-swollen balls of her tits until they were masses of agony-and lustful excitement.
"I LOVE THAT!" she squealed.
He squeezed. "You love what?"
"That! Everything! YOU! Fucking-your cock in me, your hands, mean and hard, hurting my tits, all of it-that's what my breasts are for, I know it!"
He snapped his body back and forth, plumbing her pussy and finding it deep enough. "You might get an argument from some doctors and sexist females, honey, but not from me!"
The slap-slap sounds of his body whacking her upturned ass rose in the room, filled its air along with her grunts and groans and his gasps, and the intensifying aroma of sexuality, streaking cock and slapping, swinging balls spattering the backs of her thighs and the fronts of his with the hot slippery sap from inside her.
His hands left her tits and the dangling projectiles slapped sweatily together beneath her and speared forth their swollen nipples. Now he was gripping her ass, pulling the cheeks apart, staring down the great divide to see his cock going in and out of her fur-mouthed cunt.
She groaned. Long torpedo shapes that tugged at her chest, her breasts swung and shimmied wildly beneath her bowed body. Without his hands, they felt chilly as the sweat on them was hit by the air. Striving with all her might, she squeezed her cuntal muscles salaciously, like a hot loving mouth around the heavy, almost vicious strokes of his thick fleshy penis.
"Oh darling! Love it-love that cock!"
"You like it? I'll let you wear it sometime."
"Uh! HOOOgh! I-I'm wearing it now-all the way up to the heart, I think! Man you've got plenty for a girl!"
She shifted slightly; balanced on both knees and one hand, she slipped her other arm back under her bowed body. Her seeking fingers found the sweetly protective pubic curls adorning her cunt. The hair riffled a little with the wind of his rapidly shuttling cock. She slipped her own fingertips into that lovely soft squirrel, to the soft pulpy lips that were forced wide open by his massive erection.
The kneeling girl winced and emitted a groan when her fingers touched their goal. A throbbing little button of quivery flesh, her clit vibrated busily. Her touch on its tiny head sent liquid heat boiling back through her cunt and into her belly.
She began wiggling the tip of her middle finger against the tip of her clitoris, rapidly. Just beneath, hard fleshy thickness burned in her weeping hole, violently stretching its prim muscles and ever threatening to womb her with its large swollen head.
"Ah," he groaned. "God...damn...baby...I could fuck you forever!"
"Do," she invited.
He laughed. "Alison?"
"Hmmm?"
"Twiddle your clitoris."
"I already am."
He slapped her ass. "Wicked wench! Without permission?"
She giggled. "I was afraid my master might not think about it."
'Tour master?"
"My master."
He drove powerfully. Mighty cock pounded in and out of her and challenged the capacity of her succulent and hungry cuntal cleft.
"Who," he gasped, hanging onto her buttocks and trying to pierce the rear wall of her pussy, "is your master, woman?"
"My master is in me!"
He laughed aloud, in sheer joy. And his body slapped hell out of her naked, firm ass.
She fingered her twitchy clitoris. Her mouth wouldn't close. Her eyes glazed. Voluptuous rapture became a passionate frenzy.
"C...Cl-C-Cla-Master."
"Hmmm?"
"Please stuff me. Hard-har-r-r-rd. Pl-please...grab my titties...p-pinch my nip-pies...I-I-I'm going to c.. . "
Grinning hugely, he shoved in deep and hard, and bent over her back. Again his arms and hands slid over silky smooth latex, and his hands closed on her dangling breasts.
She cried out when he grasped each impudent extrusion of nipple.
But she hissed, "Yes-s-s! Squeeze! I'm-m...going to...c"
His fingers and thumbs tightened on the berries centered in her luscious titflesh. He squeezed as she asked, and as he was happy and delighted to do, then pulled hard enough so that he seemed trying to rip them off.
Hugely swollen, his cock stayed up her. It throbbed, hard, and she could feel it. Frantically she worked her clitoris.
Rather amazed, he was squeezing with all his might.
Then sweat poured from her contracting, writhing wet skin in an orgasm of exquisite, dazzling agony.
Lightning flashed and seared her eyeballs. A blinding nova erupted before them. No-behind them. Within her head. Her pussy blew up. Her entire passion-gripped body was locked in a sudden extreme orgasmic frenzy of twisting and shuddering.
Locked to her, vised inside her, he fell to the floor with her. He lay atop her sprawled, weakly prone form and pounded her jiggling ass-cheeks in his violent driving of his cock in and out of her hot, streaming, orgasm-squeezing cunt.
"Ohhhh," she moaned. Her cheek was against the rug her hair on the bare floor. "So good. So-o-o good. Pound me. Fuck me. I came so-o good."
She had, he realized, as he fucked and fucked, damned glad that he had hoped for this and jacked off today at noon. Yes, she'd come big; her voice was like someone's who was just coming out from under anesthesia.
He ground down on her. Squirmed, mashing her into the rug and the unyielding floor beneath.
Dug in his toes and tried to root up through her cervix. Lifted himself on his hands, and slapped hell out of her ass with his hips, his crotch, his lower belly, while his glistening, aching, wildly-jerking male member dug up her pussy, slammed and streaked in and out of her.
"Take...this!" he gasped out, between clenched teeth. Going stiff, he skewered in and held it there, while he erupted into her in spurt after splashing stingingly shot spurt.
He lay atop her back, her buttocks lovely pillows under his loins, and the latex corset so-o soft and smooth against his belly, his chest, his arms.
On top of everything else that makes me crazy about this woman, he thought in elation, she's a great wriggly, gasping, groaning, squealing fuck, and she comes Big I
"Ummm...how I love your cock, darling," she sighed rapturously. Lying on his floor on her stomach, she put back a hand to rub his ass with caressive fondness.
And she loves cock! Clay McConnel mentally added, just as rapturous as she prone woman he lay upon.
When he at last rolled from atop her, he lay on his back just beside the girl. She sat up immediately, bent far forward from the sitting position in a supple motion he didn't know the corset would allow, and pressed a loving kiss on his cock.
"Ummmm," he sighed languourously. She gave his depleted penis a long doting lick.
"Ah-ummmmm," he sighed again.
"Love it, love it, love it!" she exclaimed, and stuffed her face with limp penis.
It did not long remain that way.
"Boy," she enthused, drawing her mouth languidly back off his new erection, "do you get up fast?"
"Funny," he said, "I never did this fast before...."
She giggled. "Oh you darling!" And she lunged to lie alongside him and press his lips warmly with hers. Her hand, meanwhile, fondled the new erection she had created.
Then she surprised him. She got up and went to her purse. He lay where he was, on his back with a hard-on running straight up his belly, and watched her.
"I love the way you look in that thing!" he told her.
She turned back to him with a bright smile-and a tape measure. "I'm glad. Oh I'm glad! And the way it feels?"
"Love that, too. What's with the tape?"
She showed him. She measured his hard-on. "You're really big, Clay," she said, going about her self-appointed task in manner business-like. "Vm-hmmml A tad over nine inches in length. Thought so. And...oh yes, wow! It's the thickness a woman really feels, spreading her open inside. Oh yes, this is better still-you're nearly seven inches around, man-home runs have been hit with smaller bats. That's...let's see...ah...nearly three inches in diameter! Whew!" She bent to kiss the object of her enthusiastic acclaim. "Oh," she murmured, "Mother would LOVE this!"
CHAPTER TWO
On their next date, Alison wore some more of that kinky stuff he found so thoroughly delightful. The super-sexy covering that molded her shapely legs, he discovered, was latex!
He couldn't get enough of just running his hands over her. The red mini-skirt was latex. So, of course, was the corset underneath. And when he relieved her of the figured navy blouse-her lovely breasts, too, were encased in silky smooth latex! The seamless bra was softer and slicker than skin, a rather pale black or charcoal gray. It was an incredible turn-on.
He said so, and she hugged him in delight.
Once he had managed not to strangle on the tongue she sent straight into his mouth and for the throat, he sat back, facing her, his hands on her upper arms, his thumbs resting on the sweeping outer curves of her breasts-feeling that sexy latex.
"I love this kinky slicky stuff, Alison!" She smiled brightly. "I'm so glad."
"I've never even seen any before. And never felt anything so soft!"
"Nice," she said, drawing the word out. Her hand slipped along his thigh to squeeze the bulge in his crotch. A shudder went through her, at the contact of her hand with his beloved cock, even through his clothing. "And I have never felt anything so hard," she said, with a happy laugh. "Oh, you'd be just beeeyeautiful in latex shorts."
"Latex SHORTS! There's such an animal?"
"Sure. Boy're you dumb."
He gave her breast a mean squeeze, and she winced-and flashed her teeth and dimples in another big smile.
"What's it like, wearing this stuff, Alison?"
She cocked her head. "Well-when somebody turns on over it the way you do, Mister, it's Great! Oh...I like it. It is hot. Makes you sweat inside it. That's cold, then, when you take it off. Sweat's hard on it, and so is oil-you know, just the natural oils from our bodies. So you have to take especial care of anything made out of latex, wash it carefully, keep it powdered."
"Powdered?"
She nodded. "Yep. Also, without powder to make 'em slicky inside, and dry, I'd never get something like these stockings on." She giggled. "That can be funny, too. When you pull them on your foot, see, you get air in them. It forms a pocket, a bubble-like taking the plastic bag off a loaf of bread and wadding it up: you trap air in it without even trying. Anyhow. Once I pull them on my foot-very carefully, because they sure do tear easily, and this stuff is expensive-I have to work that big air bubble out. Then...up the leg. Slowly. A little at a time."
His hand caressed its way appreciatively up her black-sheened leg. The coating was smoother, softer than nylon.
"Crazy about it!"
She smiled brightly. "I do love your enthusiasm!"
"I'm enthusiastic about the latex, about you and your mind, about you, and you, and about this whole lovely, great, sexy package. And this, too," he said, sliding a hand in between her thighs where they bulged whitely above the tops of the snugging hose. He pressed her pussy, which was pantied in briefs-normal, standard nylon that would have been sexy as could be before he discovered latex.
Latex. A liquid, for beginners; an emulsion, with water, of synthetic rubber-or plastic. Latex was common enough now in paint, as well as in adhesives. And now, he knew, in clothing.
"Far out," he murmured, stroking from skin onto latex and back again, his hand between her inner thighs. He thought about what she'd said. "Latex shorts, huh. Where do you get 'em?"
"Oh, here and there. It's a pretty big mail order business."
"You said expensive."
She shrugged, the cleavage and inner curves of her tits moving sexily about in the V of the snug black bra. "Ohh...pure gum rubber shorts probably retail for six or seven dollars. Latex briefs...maybe fifteen or seventeen dollars."
"Whew."
"Kinks don't come cheap," she told him. "Leather briefs are more than that, I think."
"You sound defensive," he said, wondering.
Maybe she was evasive, then. It didn't matter. Producing his big swollen-crank from his shorts, she stuffed her face with it. Her mouth, he noted even as he groaned in pleasure, was capable of housing only about half of his length.
Her tongue wriggled on his dick and he felt the suction as she strove to get it into her face past the halfway point. He decided to help.
"You want more cock in the face, Miss Super sexy?"
Her face cock-stuffed, she nodded.
"Take a deep breath," he told her. "A big one."
When the kneeling girl had sucked in that great deep breath, he grasped her head. Ignoring the scrape of her teeth that hurt his cock, he pushed deep. And deeper. Her eyes bulged, then shut. Long black lashes lay along her cheeks. Her mouth was violently distended into a huge ring-just under three inches across, he remembered.
Now she had well over half of the full length of his grotesquely distended organ in her mouth, prodding her throat. He strained in more-and held it there, looking at his watch.
She trembled.
Tears rolled down her cock-stuffed face. Little gagging noises rose from her throat and emerged, muffled, from her straining mouth.
He kept his cock stuffed into her face and throat, while he timed her. Tears flowed down her face and she moved erratically, getting nervous about her breath.
Clay kept his cock rammed far back in her throat for ninety seconds, by his watch, and then released his hold on her head. Instantly she backed it off his rigid staff. She sniffed, made little coughing sounds, and rolled her eyes up to his face. She read the excitement in his eyes.
With a happy little smile, she returned her mouth to his hard-on. She went to work on the hot swollen stave with a very excited avidity. Her face plunged up and down, up and down, greasing the whole shaft with her saliva. Her tongue wriggled constantly.
She released his prick from its welcome imprisonment inside her head. Her eyes met his. Her voice was soft. "Force my throat again," she said, and thrust her mouth back over the big deeply-pink knob capping his penis.
He was happy to comply. Again he impaled her mouth, feeling the surfaces of her velvety lips glide along the sensitive flesh of his distended organ. He pushed deep into that saliva-filled chamber, and held himself there, and then pushed more deeply still.
After holding it there for a full minute, by his watch, he let go her head. Again she gasped air out, and sucked more in, and sniffed. Then she began softly nibbling, caressing his penis with the tender moist surface of her tongue, forcing her own mouth into a barely yielding elastic ring.
He forced her throat and face several times more, and she was able to get down all but the last couple of inches of his dick. She liked being forced thus; she'd not be able to take it so deeply, she told him, all by herself.
Eventually the pressure in his testicles mounted to the bursting point, and he flooded her face and throat and belly in a superb come.
Alison quit wearing pants. "Skirts show off my legs better, and I think they're pretty good legs. Besides...skirts are more accessible!"
On their next get-together, she wore a latex leotard under her dress, with the corset under that. He asked; yes. She admitted that she was terribly hot.
"But I wore the body stocking for you. Isn't it sexy?"
It was. It also had a darling little snap-crotch, he discovered. They left the leotard on, and he fondled her that way, and fucked her that way.
This time they took the "normal" position, and she was really impressive in the way she moved under him. Seized swiftly with an almost delirious passion, she grinned broadly-and planted her feet, and bucked. Latex-coated thighs rubbed his naked hips. Her smooth black-coated belly and snug little gash came up to get even more of the pressure from his thick pounding tool all along the interior of her needy chink.
The passionate girl's strong thigh muscles and pressing feet combined with his hard strokes to swallow him into the far reaches of her vagina.
"Ah! I'm getting it all! That's why I like it best like this-on the floor!"
Unashamedly lustful, she fucked him, flexing satiny-sheathed thighs and grinding her ass on the rug with tantalizing slowness. Passion warmed her belly and her eyes fluttered. The supine girl sighed aloud, stroking his sweaty skin lovingly.
"Damn but you're a good screw ! " she told him, making him blink. "Hey, that's my line."
"Who cares! You're a good fuck."
"You're a great lay!"
They laughed together, loudly, and joyously balled, on the floor of his apartment. Panting with rapture, completely open and comfortable in her sexuality, she surrendered utterly to the invasion of her sweet young body, and to the great thrill it gave her. She was squirming with uncontrollable impatience, her cunt a hot prison for his rigid sex-muscle.
The sex-captivated man propped himself up over her, on his palms and forearms, to study her. He kept his cock well inserted in the fleshy, muscular gap between her legs.
Alison's face was broad of forehead and tapered down to a chin that was both deeply dimpled and almost pointed. Her upper lip was thin, the lower full, childishly pouty. Shining, slightly wavy black hair she kept drawn back to expose her forehead and small, almost lobe-less ears. He was not wild, honestly, about the way she shaped her brows, which were squared above the inner corners of her eyes and ran back almost to points aimed at her temples. Trying for a kitty cat look, probably, he mused, but not making it. (They were a lot more beautiful to him now than he'd thought them at first, as was everything about her.)
Her nose was thin and not quite straight, long-ish, and her eyes absolutely beautiful, wide and almond-shaped and blue as a summer sky.
He loved her eyes. He loved her black, black hair. He loved the soft bush of her raven's wing pussy hair, which she kept clipped, telling him she had too damned much of it. He loved her nose-which he kissed. Her mouth...he kissed it. He loved her cunt, inside and out. He loved her quick easy smiles, her enthusiasm.
"I love you," he said.
Only a month after they'd met, they were talking marriage. She was, he thought uncomfortably, a little evasive on that subject. Alison told him she wanted to take him home with her for a few days, to meet her family.
Clay breathed more easily. Sure, he had it now. Her parents were the old-fashioned kind. This figure-training business...they made her wear the latex corset, all the time. (He had not seen her without it. She would not break the rule, or lie to her parents.) So...those really old-fashioned folks had to see him first, had to approve of him before Alison dared talk more about marriage with him.
Wow, he thought, in this day'n'age...and her a month short of age 22, and a senior in college! They agreed that he would get off and accompany her home on part of her spring break. Clay was nervous about it; Christ, Alison's parents, Brian and Alexandra must be tyrants! Even that name Alexandra-sounded like Queen Victoria!
Well, if the damned old-fashioned strict fuddy-duddies wouldn't give their approval of a young Assistant Adjuster, he'd either persuade Alison to marry him anyhow-or carry her off!
He and Alison headed out the highway in his car on one of those fine sunny, warm days that provided a taste of spring before it actually came, a teaser before the advent of the real thing. He was silent, reflective, thinking about what the next few days would be like. He dreaded the experience. Shit! He'd go up the damned wall! Any normal people would "approve," if they were into that old-fashioned bullshit, of him. But...these weirdo figure trainers of her parents....
She pointed out the "scenic route," and he took it. The car tooled along around curves and over rolling country, and then they were surrounded by woods that looked as if they ought to have some dude in a loincloth running around in them-or rather, swinging around.
This may be the last chance, he told himself, though he knew better, because he wasn't about to give up Alison Spencer no matter what her god-damned parents said. But he took action anyhow; he swung the car into a rutted lane, drove in among the trees and around a curve. Trees and bushes, even though only a few had much in the way of leaves at this time of year, made the road invisible.
That meant Clay and Alison were invisible from the road, too.
"Clay-" she began, but he was already getting out and going around the car. He jerked open the door on her side. She looked wide-eyed up at him, silently questioning.
Clay reached in and grasped her hand. She made a squeaking noise as she was pulled out of the car and had to move fast to keep from falling. He hurried her around a gigantic oak and past bushes to the great patch of moss growing there, in the almost sunless area beneath the oak.
"Clay-oh!"
Clay pushed her down.
Clay dragged up her skirt and shoved her pullover blouse up over her tits. Black vinyl bra. He clamped his hands onto her tits for a moment, squeezing. Then he reached down, shoved his hand into her panties.
"Oh!" she squealed again, gasping, when he cupped he cunt, bent back a finger, and pushed it into her pussy.
Clay grinned. Back inside that elliptic sex opening, her muscular cunt was a bubbling spring. She was wet already!
"Hu-u-uhhh!" she gasped, arching her back so that only her ass and shoulder blades rested on the moss; he had impaled her with another finger, and wiggled the two inside her, simultaneously.
Opening his pants with a little difficulty as he lay partially on her, he forced his hard-on out of his shorts, and guided it to its goal. He left her panties on, merely dragging at one leg band until he had destroyed the elastic and his cock had easy access to the soft, supple flesh inside. Curling black hair bushed out springily.
In one hard stroke, sprawling atop her, he drove his rigid cock straight up through the tight channel of her slick, salivating pussy.
"Um-m-m-A-A-AHHHHHHHHH!"
The sound was wrested from her by the sudden violent distention of her sweet slit and the closely pressing walls inside. Her eyes rolled up, back, stared fixedly. Her mouth went wide.
"Shaddup, pussy," he said, in a put-on voice, mean and crude. "Make a holler and I'll stuff yer mouth fulla fist and a fuckin tree up this squishy snatcha yers!"
"Uh! Oh-ohh!" He was rooting hard, slamming and jamming, jarring her resoundingly with each vicious, raping stroke.
Then her eyes met his, blue and glistening. "Help," she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice. "Oh help, this evil monster is raping my sweet tight virgin puss-ee-eeee!" She said it all in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
Then she jerked up both thighs, knees pointing straight up. Her blocky-heeled platforms pressed down firmly into the moss they were crushing, and she began giving him one hell of a ride.
"You sure turn on fast for a fuckin wide-eyed little virgin I found pickin' wildflowers in the woods, chick," he told her.
"Oh sir, I am so scared," she said, spacing the words so that she sounded like a bad actress doing her lines. "I am trying very hard to cooperate and make it good for you so that you will not hurt me, even though it is all just terrible and shocking and painful to my sweet little cunny and a terrible shock to my shaky psyche!"
Clay said, "Good grief."
He fucked hotly into her with strong, pummeling lunges that reddened the delicate folds of her labia and brought lust boiling up inside her humid channel. Heated secretions drooled out of her vagina to darken the moss.
The red slit of her crotch clung to his cock, which was stroking her deep, deep, with a ferocious gorging violence.
Shivering, clutching him, the moaning girl felt as if she were being pumped better, fucked more deeply by that great pumping shaft than ever in her life.
His balls were banging her so hard she could hear the repeated slaps. Cunt juice spattered and splashed and formed an ever wider patch of dark moss under their united genitals.
Still he ground in hard, seemingly trying now to cram both slippery nuts into her along with his flailing driving tool.
Then his hands crammed in under her, grasped her pantied ass-cheeks, and pulled. She gulped, expecting to feel the head of his cock in her throat. The squirming brunette flexed her ass-cheeks in his clenching fingers and hoisted her straining legs higher on either side of his lunging, fully clothed body.
Gosh, the knees of his pants will be all messed up, she thought.
The she felt the broad stiff finger sliding down the sweaty cleavage of her ass.
"Uh-" Her blue eyes widened, stared up at a tangle of branches.
He pushed.
Pressure built in her anus. She was absolutely still, staring upward, straining, straining...
Opening her legs even wider, she tilted her pelvis to accept his finger up into her anal canal.
"Uh...unnh..
Big male finger pressed on and in, popped open her cincture, slid along, into her rectum, caressing his own big male cock through thin rubber-like membranes.
She groaned. Her eyes were fixed. Her mouth remained open.
"Aaaaaaan-nnnhhhhh..
He fucked, hard. Now he was ravaging one slippery channel with his cock and spearing the contiguous channel with his finger-and because of the pressure on her inner flesh, one of those delving tissue-straining probes felt as big as the other! Both seemed hot, particularly the one up her ass. She closed her eyes. They were both cocks. She was being fucked by two cocks, both at once. The one up her ass-hole was burning hot and harder than any cock should be. It was going to burn her up.
He pounded. His lust was building, building....
He moved his hand as he did his body. The fully-clothed "rapist" kept thrusting home with finger and penis, knowing that soon he would be flooding charge after charge from his seething balls into the farthest reaches of her thirsty cunt-which was where he was straining to plant his cock.
He wished his finger could spurt something into her, too.
All he wanted was to stick her cervix with prick and her bowels with rigid middle finger. He probed in farther with that upward skewering finger, and pounded with his pelvis, driving her widening rectum down on it, like pounding the board onto the nail.
Rigid grinding finger pumped her ass-hole like a cock. He moved his hand and wiggled the finger to dilate her tight hot rear tunnel even more, while pounding his cock in with jackhammering hips, lunging grinding ass, and digging, pushing feet that dug into the mossy ground.
Hard jabbing thrusts imbedded his longest finger up her butt and stroked his own deeply delving penis, through thin walls of elastic inner tissue. Wider and wider opened her excretory tunnel, while from the pink cleavage between her legs, so broadly cock-distended by the fabulous male member she had compared to a baseball bat, drooled forth her cunt's slippery mucous.
"I-I'm...oh my GOD I'M GOING TO C-"
Orgasm hit her like a fist in the solar plexus and cut off her words, though not her voice. She screamed out a loud ululating moan, and clutched him with both hands and both crisscrossing legs.
The superlatively fucked young woman was still shuddering in her climax when her lover came, too, groaning and rooting deep with finger and cock. Semen poured into her as from a faucet wrenched violently open.
She lay still, holding the man who lay exhausted upon her. Her blue eyes stared up through lattice-worked branches at the blue sky.
"Oh my God," Alison murmured, stroking his hair. "I love you!"
CHAPTER THREE
One of many things Clay liked about Alison Spencer was that she seemed natural. If she put on false fronts, airs, he had not detected the unreality. Even though he should have, it had not occurred to him that she came from money. Had he stopped to cogitate a few seconds on all the latex she wore, and the price of the stuff, he'd have been prepared for the estate, and the house.
The country house was more than big. The barns were big; the house was huge, with tall white pillars and outside porticoes around the second floor rooms. Below the barns, handsome saddle horses grazed. Near the house there were no less than three cars, including one of those super-expensive new small Cadillacs, GM's shot at taking some of the business away from the Mercedes-Benz people.
Wealth, Clay thought, and grew a bit more nervous about Alison's surely old-fashioned parents. That was quite enough-that they were more than well off just added to his apprehension. He did his best to prepare himself, and walked up to the house and onto its broad sweeping porch, hand in hand with Alison.
The door was opened by no less than a butler, a tall, slender man, fifty-ish and imposing in his black suit Alison introduced Clay as "Mister Clay McConnel" and the butler as "Sexton." Gotta remember that, Clay told himself. I call the dude Sexton, not Mister Sexton! Then he saw the next person he was to meet, and he thought, Oh dear God!
Her name was Mary, and she was the maid. She was not tall and skinny and she was not old and fat. Mary was young, brown-haired, and vehemently well-constructed. She wore the traditional maid's uniform, but...with some kinks. The long-sleeved black dress fit her arms and her torso as if she had been sewn into it, and it made a silent but unconditional statement about her imposing breasts and her tiny waist. The dress was mini-skirted, really mini-skirted, so that she showed what appeared to be a yard or so of shapely leg encased in black mesh hose. They vanished into stilt-heeled shoes, with buckles.
Mary's skin was a beautiful deep tan, and Alison explained as they went on through the vast entrance hall that Mary's full name was Maria Concepcion Quinonez.
"A Puerto Rican," Alison said, and added matter-of-factly, "Daddy laid her in New York City and brought her right home, over a year ago."
If this were a movie or a comic strip, Clay McConnel thought, I'd say: Gulp!
That's what he'd have said when he was introduced to Alison's mother, too. He stared.
The woman with the jet-black hair alleviated in front by a streak of white, a "skunk-lock," was both tall and big. Imposing; Wagnerian. She was also youthful looking, with a vast jiggly bosom beetling like cliffs over a tiny waist. The long-sleeved black turtleneck fit her the same way the maid's long-sleeved dress did, and Alexandra Spencer's skirt of purple leather was just as mini. Clay recognized her hose, which fit like a second skin though smoother: black latex. They vanished under the abbreviated skirt, and if Mary seemed to display a yard of leg, this woman must be five-ten, over four feet of which, surely, was leg.
Her blue eyes met Clay's very directly, and her hand clasped his firmly.
"We've heard about you, Clay McConnel," she said. "You're very welcome here."
"Thank you, Mrs. Spencer," he said, and then was ass-hole enough to blurt, "you certainly aren't what I expected."
She gave him a cool smile. "I imagine that's a compliment. And call me Alexandra, please. Ah-this is Alison's younger sister Melanie. Melanie Clay McConnel."
Melanie was shortish, but with the "family bust" and a tiny waist-Clay knew why! She too wore latex hose, red. And her blue eyes gazed just as directly into his when she took his hand.
She tickled his palm.
Clay had not recovered from that new surprise when he was meeting Monica. This was Alison's older sister, divorced and returned home, almost but not quite as tall as her mother, busty and tiny-waisted, and wearing a plunge-front white blouse tucked into a short, shining skirt Clay knew was latex. Her sky-high black hose were nylon. Her eyes were blue and her nose very straight, a trifle overlong. Her chin was dimpled like Alison's-and Alexandra's.
She took his hand, but did not tickle his palm. Clay sighed in relief. He was unable even to look at Melanie. What a brat-tickling the palm of her sister's man, with her sister and mother standing right there!
There was a brother, over six feet tall and reed-thin, his eyes blue-gray and his hair dark brown, reddish in the mustache. He was Edmund, and he had a firm grip, too, and he didn't tickle Clay's palm either.
He was about 25, Clay reckoned. Monica was either a little older or a little younger. Melanie would be under age twenty. As for Alexandra: the woman whose womb had produced these four good-looking children looked hardly older than thirty, though Clay knew she had to be in her forties.
He felt a little dizzy, in that huge high-ceilinged house, surrounded by tall people. Both Edmund and Alexandra-who wore old-fashioned stilt-heeled shoes-were taller than Clay, and surely Monica was his height, five-eleven. Only Alison and Melanie were shorter-and not by much.
Clay was then taken outside to meet the gardener-handyman and his wife; they lived in the second barn, which was a sight nicer inside than Clay's apartment. Tony was short (hurray!), dark, stocky, well-built, with curly black hair framing a bony, not unhandsome face. His wife was the real creature from the outer world: Debbie was tiny and really short, five feet or perhaps slightly less, with wide girlish eyes, blue, and sunny-blonde hair. Tony and Debbie were about twenty, maybe a little older.
Back inside, surrounded by family in a living room the size of a four-room apartment, Clay was attempting to chat and wishing desperately for something cold, liquid, and flagrantly alcoholic To his rescue came Brian Spencer, in a fourth car-a bright red VW bus!
Alison's youthful-looking father was Clay's height, meaning the man was shorter than his wife when she wore heels. His figure was excellent, and Clay subsequently learned that the man with the fierce-black mustache and bushy sideburns wore a size 42 jacket and had a 31-inch waist! There was no way Brian Spencer could buy clothing off the rack; the man had to make money!
Twenty seconds after Brian Spencer was inside the house, he and Clay were shaking hands. Ten seconds later Mary materialized, as if by sorcery-mercifully bearing a tray containing a tall, frosty pitcher of martinis and a set of stemmed glasses, all of which had been frosted. Clay gratefully accepted the alcoholic largesse.
He watched Brian Spencer drain his glass at one tilt and two swallows. Great, Clay thought, and did the same. He shuddered, smiled in response to the beaming grin Brian gave him, and joined the older man in handing his glass to Mary.
The blatantly sensuous maid poured them each a fresh martini-in a fresh glass.
Brian said, "Alison says you love latex, Clay."
It was gulp time again. Clay wondered what the hell else Alison had told her old man-who looked like anything but. Did they know he dug latex corsets and bras, or just...what showed?
"I do indeed. Beautiful. Very...sensuous. Better than satin or suede to the touch."
Brian beamed. "You've never felt it next to your body?"
Clay shook his head.
"Well remedy that. I wear latex shorts, always." He broke into a huge grin. "Don't worry I Latex does melt off fat and control the figure by making the wearer sweat, because it doesn't breathe. But there's no danger to a man in latex shorts, since I assure you cock and balls are not composed of fatty tissue!"
At that statement of the man he'd expected to be such an old-fashioned Victorian, delivered in front of the entire family and the maid-who grinned from ear to pierced ear-Clay did indeed gulp. Then he managed to laugh, for which he should have got some sort of medal.
"Great!" he said, sounding only slightly choked.
Brian leaned close. "Actually Fm convinced that heated underwear generates more sperm and desire, Clay."
Clay got out: "Far out."
It was then that Clay learned Brian Spencer owned a latex manufacturing company...that is, a latex goods making company. Spencer did a big mail order business, and had retail outlets only in big cities.
"Latex," Brian said, "like leather, is a common fetish and sexual-enhancer that a lot of people love. It isn't cheap, of course. Not to make, and not to buy. There is also the problem of volume. Anything sexy in this poor country never sells in really big volume, which is one reason it has to sell higher, per item."
Clay nodded. Fascinating. Far out. The martini made him warm and mellow. The second one; he was careful to drink it far less swiftly than he had the first, though Brian kept looking hopefully at his guest's stemmed glass. Clay did not empty it
Two of these, he thought, and I'd be slightly woozy-and probably jumping Mary's ass! Or Monica's. Or Melanie's.
Or...gulp...Alexandra's!
About that time the latter reminded them that dinner would be ready in forty-five minutes or so. Mary confirmed Alexandra's silent query. Alexandra looked at Mary with thick black eyebrows elevated; Mary nodded.
"Alison," Alexandra said, "show Clay to his room-and come right back down, mind!"
Alison did; the room was on the second floor, facing front.
"Yon could at least have warned me," Clay muttered.
"What? Warned you of what, darling?"
"That your parents are...that your family's...shit. I was expecting Victoria and Albert!"
Alison left laughing, dutifully going right back down.
Clay checked out his spacious room, which was done in red, burnt orange, brown and mahogany. A bathroom with shower was part of the room, like a hotel.
After all that sweating downstairs, he mused, a shower is most definitely called for! And he stripped.
As if on cue, Mary the maid entered two seconds after he'd peeled off his shorts. Instead of turning his back or covering up with his hands, his first reaction was to spin around at the sound of the door's opening.
"Mister Brian sent you a pair of latex shorts, YUM!"
Bosom jouncing and legs flashing, Mary hurried straight to him. Her hand shot out to flip the shorts she carried onto the red bedspread. Her lips were parted in a nice little O, and her eyes were fixed on Clay's cock. Just as he started to put down a hand to cover the thing up, she hit both knees in front of him. With one hand she brushed his away. With the other she cupped his balls. And gave his penis, which flinched at first, a long, long soul kiss.
Jesus, he thought, as she sucked it into her mouth. Jesus H. Christ!
She sucked and licked, working his non-erection around in her capacious mouth while her fingers kneaded his testicles with expertise. Clay was suddenly in mind of Heston's anguished shout in Planet of the Apes: It's a ma-a-ad-house!
Clay did not shout it. He didn't even say it. He just stood there and stared down at the sexy maid-Mary the maid, surely not maid Mary-while she knelt and sucked his cock. And he thought things like Jesus H. Christ and Holy Shit!
His long, lanky hunk of penis soon began becoming a longer, thicker, and far harder, hunk of erect cock.
Now Mary had to work hard at the big swollen bone that widened her lips' aperture and formed a bridge between her heart-shaped face and his loins.
When the sexy little bitch tightened her teeth, pulsing warmth invaded his balls and flared up into his belly, which tried to knot with sexual tension.
He stared down at the top of the dark young woman's shining black head in a trance of lust.
In a long, slow and thoroughly lascivious leave-taking, she eased her pursed, straining lips back off his cock. It glistened wetly with a thorough coating of her saliva. The girl kissed its tip, and came swiftly up to her feet.
"Oh, it IS a beauty! You'll let me have it, won't you Mister Clay?"
"Jesus, you incredible sexpot, get your damned pants down and make it fast!"
With a happy smile, she spun away from him, reached up under her mini-skirt, and, grinning directly into his eyes, swiftly rolled down a pair of black panties-latex, naturally. Next she popped his eyes and half blew his staggering mind, by turning around and bending over. Up came her round tan ass, elevating like a big gun in search of a target. Her skirt she held up in the small of her back, and her legs were well apart A plump pussy with a lot of black fur curling back between her thighs seemed to stare at him like a vertical eye.
"like this?" she asked, slapping her hands onto the floor and looking back at him between her thighs, with an upside-down smile.
"like that! Hold that pose, you doll, and grab a deep breath!" He swiftly covered the few feet between him and her delectable self. Standing before him, his big hard-on swung and bobbed wildly.
"Oh, I am ready for that pretty thing of yours, Mister CLAAAAYYYYY I"
Her voice went straight up, both the scale and in volume, as he plunged his erection into the black jungle between her forked thighs and slugged her pussy full of thick, hot meat.
Her cunt didn't grab him. She was big inside, wet and slick as greased rubbed. His knob plunged all the way and gave her cervix such a gonging stoke that she tottered and squeaked, her arms and legs both stiffening against the floor to hold her in place. "GAH! Quecipote!"
"No habla Espanol, or something like that," he said, skewering in with all his might, grasping her hips and trying with all his might to flatten her ass against his flat belly.
She was almost sobbing as she said: "I said: What a cock!"
"You've sure got room for it, you darling sweet little whore!"
She wiggled her ass. "Oh! What a sweet thing to say! We've only just met and already you have a pet name for me!" She gave that upturned butt such a torque that he momentarily wondered if his cock was about to get screwed off inside her.
No way. She had plenty of room for it.
The top of her black, white lace-trimmed maid's dress was quite low and round. He hadn't known she was braless until her naked tits flopped free and started tracing out wild circles under her bowed body. Impetus was provided by the vigorous hip-twisting strokes he gave her, jamming big cock in and out of her big soft pussy and enjoying the slight pain as its swollen head bounced off her cervix, again and again.
She groaned, wiggled, her hips and large oval-shaped tan cheeks wildly oscillating and gyrating while he pumped. His thighs slapped those beautiful buttocks time and again, and the cracking smacks were loud in the room. So were her groans and exclamations-in Spanish.
The big stalk of his reaming deep-seating cock drove far within the over-bent girl, then sloshed forth her juices on its partial withdrawals, so that his pubis fleece was drenched with flowing cuntal syrup.
It felt great. He tried to knock her flying across the room into the wall. But the tawny-skinned girl remained firmly positioned like an over sized croquet wicket, and took every powerful lunge of outsize cock up her outsize pussy with great relish and never a stagger.
"You'd better...get ready for building an ark," he gasped. "Fm about to-oh NO!"
The last two words were elicited by the girl's jerking her cunt off his throbbing erection. But she had no notion of leaving it out in the cruel air to pump its cream. Instead, she spun around, naked tits bouncing about in front of her uniform, and dropped to her knees again. She grabbed cock and balls with both hands and popped the great staff into her mouth.
Next instant it went off, and she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, and then kept on sucking until he had to step back and pry her loose; all that suction on a highly sensitized and totally emptied prick was agony.
She looked up with dancing brown eyes and licked her lips. Then she rose, bent to kiss his cock, snatched up her panties, and flew out of the room.
"Holy shi-it!" the staggering Clay McConnel exclaimed, and tottered into the bathroom to take his shower.
Brother, he thought later, as he emerged from the steamy bathroom and headed for the bed and his new briefs, I've been in hotels smaller than this place. And the maid service was never so super-have I ever been serviced!
Then, having to wriggle a little, he drew the slicky latex shorts up his legs. The briefs were black. When he looked in the mirror, his belly and thighs looked very pale by contrast. The shorts felt odd, but not unpleasant. They were skintight, forming a bulging package of his genitals, which reflected the light in a pale strain-point. They were also warm; non-porous. And they held him.
"Whew," he muttered as he went for some clothes, "these things'll be a constant sexual reminder!"
And, as he drew on his pants, "I hope to hell Brian's right about there not being any fat to melt off, in the cock and balls department! If I lose weight there I'll KILL that mother!"
Then, well-fucked, showered, and dressed, Clay McConnel left his room for his first meal in this huge and strange house. Even then, after all the openness of manner and talk, and Mary's "seduction" of him, he had no idea just how odd that household and its occupants were.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dinner in the Spencer household was almost formal, in the large dining room under a twinkling chandelier of sterling and crystal. The long table was of wood, and old. Clay asked about it. No, it wasn't something that had been in the family for years; it had once graced a castle in England! Brian Spencer, who sat at the end of the table, said he'd bought it from a certain Lord Grandrith, who needed all the money he could get to pay the prohibitive British taxes on his ancestral estate.
At the end of the long table opposite her husband, sat the tall and regal Alexandra, her jet-black hair sleekly piled on her head to display her long neck and the drop earrings from her pierced ears. Gold and onyx, Clay decided. The rest of her visible self as she sat at table was ivory and onyx: her skin was light, and her dress black velvet. The sleeves were long, the front deeply cut to display a great deal of very rounded, high, and large breasts that Clay McConnel assumed were propped up by a Merry Widow bra.
Next to her, on the left, sat diminutive Melanie, in a skintight orange jumpsuit. Beside her, across from Clay, was her brother, in a denim work shirt decorated with embroidery. He wore gray jeans, and a thick belt with an enormous buckle, a three-prong affair of brass.
The embroidery, Clay was told in the light dinner conversation, had been done by Debbie, the gardener-handyman's little blonde wife.
Between Clay and Brian, on Clay's left, sat Alison, in a white silk blouse and a short skirt of pleated black latex that he thought was rather silly looking; pleated skirts weren't his thing. The little red skirt her sister Monica wore was almost straight, and much more to the liking of their guest. The skirt was latex, worn over hose of the same color and material; her blouse was clingy, multi-colored nylon with big swishy sleeves and tight, four button cuffs. Monica sat beside him, too, on her mother's side.
Throughout most of the meal, Alison used her right hand to stroke, fondle, and pat the fly of Clay's trousers. Inside, his penis, nestled warmly in its latex sheath, grew. It was not a comfortable sensation.
There was an added stimulus. Throughout most of the meal, sort of taking turns with her sister, Monica used her left hand to fondle and pat and stroke Clay's fly.. . .
He was rather surprised that no one asked him how the new shorts felt. Also that Mary, who served them the sumptuous meal, was completely natural, impersonal, cool-particularly for a young woman who had so recently sucked his cock and then bent over to take it up the hot capacious pussy he so well remembered!
Shortly after dinner, Monica mentioned some things she had to do, excused herself, and went up the broad half-turned staircase to her room.
Edmund and Melanie went out, together, a short time later. If they stated their destination, Clay didn't catch it. Not that he cared.
Bringing him a brandy, Alison bent over Clay, who admitted to himself that the full skirt with its many pleats did accentuate her wasp waist. So did the tight-fitting blue turtleneck she wore.
"You're tired," she murmured. "Go up to bed early. Keep the room dark, and quiet, and don't be surprised later when you have company, darling."
He glanced at her parents, who were enjoying the loud harpsichord record a lot more than he was. "Can we get away with it?" he whispered.
"I think so," Alison said archly.
Sure he couldn't be seen, he rubbed one of her extravagantly developed breasts. She sighed.
"Far out," he muttered.
"We will," she breathed, starting to straighten, "have to be absolutely silent about it, darling."
"Can do."
She returned to her seat, and Clay looked over to see Mary in the dining room. She was looking at him, and he knew she'd seen both the secret conversation and the wanderlust of his hand at Alison's tit. Mary winked. Then she returned to the kitchen and made more dishwashing noises.
Clay went up to bed early. He stripped, massaged the rumpled testicles and penis so long encased in warm, paper-thin rubber, and hung away his clothes. The room contained a radio, and he found an FM station that definitely played no harpsichord music. Turning it on low, he slipped in between the tan sheets, which were bordered with the squared off old castle-turret design of ancient Rome. Naked, he turned off the light
There wasn't time for him to drowse off, or even engage in much thinking. His door opened, and by the time he looked that way, she had made her swift entry and closed the door behind her. Seconds later he was joined in the double bed by a lot of tit and leg and latex corset.
"Sh-h-h-hhh," she admonished, giving his chest a brief kiss. Then she began at once giving him a nice massage. It was confined solely to his genitals.
He remembered her admonition to be absolutely silent, and now she had doubled that warning with her firm and drawn-out slushing noise. Clay was absolutely silent. He didn't have to talk, to play with her big, soft tits, anyhow.
Her hand kneaded, and massaged, and squeezed his cock and balls.
His hands squeezed, and kneaded, and massaged the milky contours of her heavy teats.
She loved it. The excitement of that tit-play got to her quickly, and she let him know it. His naked cock-fondler began wriggling her lovely body, naked except for the corset he was accustomed to, in anticipation and arousal while he admired and caressed the luscious, polished flesh of her superb breasts.
"Hu-u-um-m-mmmm," she breathed. Tremors leaped through both the massive panting projections he thrilled with his hands. Her warm fingers pressed firmly, lecherously into the full ripe eggs of his balls and the rising stalk they seemed to be extruding. The big testicles were both sensitive and vibrant in her hands.
A growing glow rocked his belly and tugged at his genitals with a subtle carnal rhythm.
Suddenly squashing her tits against her chest by jamming his palms hard against them, he pressed her back, coming up onto his side. He swung a leg across hers, imprisoning them-and the hand she kept wrapped around his nuts.
He shook the shapely projections of her chest, making each wildly bouncing ball wobble and ripple with tremors.
"I like them just as well all misshapen like this!" he told her in a whisper, and bent his mouth to a surging nipple.
"Ahhhhhh," she sighed, and her hand writhed between his thigh and hers. She began squirming.
He still held her tits. He bounced them a little in his hands, teasing them, making the nipples grate over his teeth.
She shook constantly and her breath became a series of gasps and sighs.
He began sucking. The enraptured woman became a wild, squirming thing as he sucked avidly at the delicious morsel of pantingly tumescent flesh that strained out and out from her breasts in hard erections.
A little biting action made her twitch, almost jumping. She panted fiercely and her hand clutched his balls. His clamping lips worried the rock candy crest of one swollen nipple into ever greater erection, until it contained all of its own luscious corona and was a fat, pulsing hard-on that thrust with imperious arrogance straight out from her strutting breast.
Suddenly she went rigid, trembling.
"Hoo-oo-oo-oo-oooon GG HHHHHHHH!" she sagged limply.
"Hey," he murmured, licking her nipple softly, "I never knew you to come from having these beauties sucked, sweetheart."
She said: "SHHHHHHH!" Holding his cock, her hand tugged.
Clay followed that imperative pull. He moved up onto his knees, fitting easily into the broad wedge of bed, formed when she hurled her thighs wide apart. Still gripping his erection, she pulled it toward the hungry hole in the very junction of those outward straining thighs.
Drawn unerringly to its target by her hot hand, his cock went at her. The deep-red plum tipping it nosed up against the mossy tufts at the base of her corset-held abdomen, parted the silky tendrils that were only a mass of utter blackness in the dark, and discovered the plump lobes that formed the doorway to her cunt.
"Ummmmmm," she sighed, at the feel of his sexual flesh against hers. Her knees rose on either side of him.
He stabbed his swollen organ between the impassioned girl's fleshy labial petals and paused there, teasing her, daring her to beg for the full length of his staff.
She didn't. Releasing the sturdy stave that was now safely beach-headed inside her, she grabbed his hips. And she yanked.
"Gu-u-u-uhhh!" The sound she made came straight from the throat.
Ice ran up his spinal cord. He was in her all the way to the balls, just like that. The squirming brunette acted as if she hadn't balled for a month, rather than this afternoon in the woods, just a few hours ago!
I'm a lucky sunuvabitch to get such a hot-blooded cock-loving slut for my woman! he told himself, and began fucking that hot-blooded cock-loving cunt.
While his hips flailed, he caught her shaking tits. He sank his fingers into the marshmallow masses, making their lissome flesh yield reluctantly as it twitched and quaked.
Beefy prick studded in and out of her, with slushy noises. And up came her hips, surging to meet his skewering lunges into her writhing, silky-walled cunt.
Her inward squeezing produced a hot tingling sensation in the swinging pouch of his balls, strained seedpods feeling ready to burst. She was fucking him back with every inch of her hot young body. The steamy sounds and aroma of sexuality rose about them, pervading the air of the darkened room.
The big balls of her breasts were shaking like jelly. She squirmed her furry genital bulge up against him, and ground it into his. He drove into it, splitting it wide, encunting her hard and deep with powerful pumping surges of his hips.
It occurred to him that they hadn't made it this way before, the way so many people did: silently, and in the dark. He liked it. It was a pleasant change. This way, he could just concentrate on feeling.
And he could concentrate on fucking.
He fucked her deep and hard, probing violently and far into her pulsing slit
His hands slipped beneath her to cup the quivering whiteness of her ass-swells. He gripped them tightly, tugging. Her arms shot responsively up about his neck. She mashed her open mouth up onto his, ramming her smooth, perfectly rounded and massy breasts into his chest. At the same time, she clamped down with her cunt and he groaned at the loving pressure of that wanton crack around his cock's hardened length.
Hunching, bucking, she tightened and rolled the muscular buttocks he held, driving him wild with desire.
His fingers slid over one soft cheek of her shaking ass and into the crack between the cream-sheened mounds. It was tight, hot, sweaty.
The pulsing little ass-hole, when he skewered it with his finger, was even tighter and hotter.
She grunted and gasped at that new pressure, jerking as if in convulsions.
The pungent aroma of sex, of hot united genitals and released deodorant and perspiration, all rose to assail his nostrils in a definite odor of arousal
He ran his finger up the tunnel of her ass and his cock down the molten hollow of her pussy as if trying to unite them within her. Fucking strongly, ramming her ass down onto his hand, he kept her firmly and deeply impaled cock and middle finger.
She squealed aloud. She shivered violently. Her hands clawed at him.
Then the grunting, twitching, young woman cried out, almost fainting in orgasmic joy, when her vaginal depths exploded in incandescent ecstasy.
Her coming body jerked, shuddered, convulsed-and went lump.
With his finger now rammed with ease all the way up her relaxed and dilated ass-hole, he continued stroking his big prong in and out of the contracting well of her cunt. The inner pulsing, the constant squeeze-pull of her vaginal muscles, pumped him rapidly up to the spurting point.
He ran it deep into her, driving for orgasm, filling her cunt with cock at the same time as his finger sank far into her squirming ass-hole.
The hot, wet knob of his glans swatted about inside her wrinkly slit. It soon had her thighs and belly vibrating as new desire seeped through her.
Again and again he sent it sliding down the chute, imbedding the fleshy, emphatically hardened tool utterly in the warm wet tube of her vagina.
Back she came, recovering from the draining weakening effect of her orgasm. She heaved her stomach up against his and he responded by spearing her with finger and rast-hardened cock until she groaned and shook almost violently.
They worked together in a fantastic lustful rhythm that attuned their sweaty bodies beautifully.
Once that had settled into that superbly cooperative metronomic rhythm that way, it seemed to him to go on and on. Swift fragments leaped through his brain as he rocked with her in the darkness: restless squirming, cradle rocking, pungent scent of lust...racing pulses...flexing, driving thigh muscles...nakedly trembling, hunching bodies...sleek, sleek skin like silicone, partially coated and sheathed with smooth, satin-finished latex...constant su-u-up, sh-h-hluu-PPP sounds...the flexing of luscious ass-cheeks in his hands and the squeezing of her ass-hole around his finger...its raking over the sensitive head of his shuttling cock...carnality, pleasure I
"You really...get a lot...of fuckinnng...from a man who's...already come twice...today!" he told her.
She was silent. Straining upward, she licked his lips and tried to use her big tits like spears to stab his chest. Her hips writhed back and forth with sensuous sounds against the sheet, and her crotch pumped up and down, open-mouthed cunt sliding along his cock like a rubber ring on a greased pole.
Then he clutched her, flattened her tits by crushing down on her, as he groaned and stiffened in the final crisis.
His body jerked. One last lunge he made into her slick soft channel. And then he exploded. She cried out as he did, clasping him to her with all her strength.
Vibrant energy radiated from him, jerked his body, and his juices squirted forcefully into her. Noble seed went flowing richly into her lovely vault with his grunting lunges.
He lay a long time on her, held there by her straining arms, holding her, murmuring again and again how good, how good it had been. He felt pride, too; she had come no less than three times.
At last, at long last her arms loosened. Sure he was mashing the very breath from her, he slid from her. Together, they listened to the last sucking wet slurp of his rumpled penis as it emerged from her sperm-filled vagina. Lying still, he stared at absolutely nothing.
He did not move when the bed did. She was getting up.
Then, behind his closed lids, his eyes were aware of a new red-goldness; she had turned the lights on! Groaning, he squinted his eyes tight shut, turned onto his side, opened up carefully, slowly, and looked across the room at her. She stood by the door, wearing a red and black robe.
His eyes went wide and Clay stared.
She smiled. "You're a very good fuck, Clay McConnel. If my husband had balled like that, I'd still be married!" Monica Spencer said, and with a long-distance kiss, she left his room.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered.
He stared at the door.
"Far out," he muttered.
Then, a moment later, "Jesus! Her sister!"
CHAPTER FIVE
Alison's older sister, Monica, came in here and fucked me, Clay thought, having turned out the light and flopped again on the rumpled bed. And all that business downstairs...Alison must have known Monica was feeling me up, too...and later she-Alison-was so adamant that I be quiet when she joined me.. . .
Hell, it must have been a conspiracy! Alison had wanted her sister to ball with him...and the two women had arranged it, set him up I
I've been used, Clay McConnel thought.
And then he thought: OKI
Slipping slowly off into sleep, he wondered what the hell else was going on in this crazy nutty sexy household.. . .
Melanie Spencer grunted when the gardener's hairy thighs impacted her quivering buns and jarred her forward. Tony's hands seized her though, by the buttocks. He held her steady at the same time as his fingers spread wide her ass-cheeks.
Behind her, the muscular, wiry young man began a slow motion of his hips that ground his nice hard cock into his boss's daughter...ground him ever deeper into her distended ass-hole. His hip wagging action widened still more the little funnel of her stretched and straining cloakcal passage.
Tiny moans, blissful whimper sounds, slid from the girl's parted lips. She could feel him, all of him, all his nice sturdy cock, far up in the tight reaches of her torrid ass.
She twisted her head to look over to her left. Melanie smiled.
On her knees, Tony's latex-corseted wife had her blonde head bent over male loins. But it was not her husband that Debbie sucked. His crotch was tight up against Melanie's butt, and his cock was buried in the hot hole between them.
Debbie was bobbing her head, gliding her hot little pink-tinted lips up and down the saliva-coated shaft of Edmund's cock.
As Melanie looked that way, her brother reached down and shoved his gloved fingers into Debbie's fluffy blonde hair, just above the forehead. He tugged; Melanie could see the other girl's eyebrows rise as the skin of her forehead was pulled up. Debbie's mouth left Edmund's prick with a slurp. A big drip of saliva fell from its wet tip. The kneeling wife of the gardener looked up at the employer's son.
"That's enough for now, Deb. That was lovely. You look wonderful on your knees, too, with your face stuffed up with cock. Don't you think so, Tony?"
Tony lunged into Melanie's ass and held. "Oh shit yes," he said.
"And now for your reward, Deb," Edmund said. He released the blonde's forelock.
She trembled in excitement, watching with happy anticipation while the booted man went over and broke a switch off the apple tree.
He turned back to her. "OK, Debbie, turn it up!"
"Ah," Tony said, watching the other couple while he buggered the kneeling Melanie.
But Debbie didn't have to be told. She was already delightedly assuming the position for what she loved, had to have: harsh attention. Her naked ass was elevated high and white and rounded, eagerly awaiting the hard strokes of the apple tree's switch that Edmund began to land on the pretty tail cheeks she so willingly proffered.
"Uh," Debbie grunted, when he left the first dark stripe across both juicy-looking mounds of her full-blooming ass. "Um-m-mmmMMM!" She wagged her hips, teasing him, inviting harsher blows.
Boy, Melanie Spencer thought while her father's gardener shoved his cock in and out of her ass-hole, what a kinky kook that Debbie is!
Awaking with an incredible erection, Clay lay still and tried to think it away. No go. He wasn't horny. His prick was piss-hard. At last, with a sigh of resignation, he got up, stumbled in the dark, found his robe. He pulled it on and went to the door, forgetting that he had a bathroom right here as part of his room.
He went the short distance down the hall, past closed doors, and into the bathroom. Closing that door, too, he sighed gratefully as he emptied his bladder. Since he was in a strange household-strange, and how he thought-he directed the yellow stream at the side of the toilet bowl, so as to make less noise. He closed the seat before he flushed, too, and then dutifully washed his hands.
First turning off the light, he opened the door and left the bathroom.
He hadn't got three steps along the corridor, dimly lit by the light down by the stairs, before he heard the moaning sound. Standing still, he bit his lip.
None of my business, he thought.
Mo-o-o-oa-nnnnnnn, he heard.
Coming from behind that door, he thought, gazing at the closed wooden portal in question. None of my business, he told himself again.
He heard: "Hu-u-u-uhh-nnnnNNNHHH . .
None of my business, he told himself a third time. And mentally replied: So fucking what?
A look up and down the hall told him that other doors remained secured, all except his own, and that he was very much alone.
Clay crossed the hall, walked two steps on the running carpet, and listened at the door that seemed to be moaning. More sounds came from inside. He looked both ways again. No one. Clay bent over and applied the eye of curiosity to the keyhole in the old house's old-fashioned door.
He thought: Jesus!
He saw: Brian Spencer. And Mary the maid. And Sexton the butler.
Brian, naked, sat on the bed, sort of lengthwise, with one leg stretched out on it. The other foot was on the floor. Mary knelt on the bed's very edge, one hand on his thigh and the other at his nipple. She was running her talented head up and down his cock.
Mary was not naked. She wore an extremely sexy little baby doll, red with black lace trim in scallops, and totally sheer. On the bed beside her, lay the abbreviated red panties of that Super sexy nightie. Its scalloped little skirt was fucked up onto the shelf formed above her upturned out-poked buttocks.
The butler, very, very thin indeed in his almost hairless nudity, was on the bed, too. He was fucking Mary from behind, while she sucked their boss's cock.
The moans Clay had heard came from all three of them. They were the happiest trio he could have imagined. Just the three of them, boss and servants. Fuckin' and suckin'.
Unconsciously fingering his own penis, Clay watched the way the naked butler's tiny ass-cheeks tightened up, creasing deeply, as the tall man swung his hips back and forth. It was his fucking motions, his hands pulling and pushing at the hips of the kneeling girl, that sent her open, slurping mouth on its gliding path up and down the stalk of Brian's fat hard-on.
The female voice had said "HUH!" and "Oh-AHH!" no less than three times before Clay realized that it was not Mary; her mouth was effectively stoppered against such wide-mouthed sounds of sensuous appreciation!
Still bent over, he looked up and down the hall. It remained deserted but for himself.
"Hu-u-uNNNGHHHH f
Oh, he mused, straightening. That sound came from that door, not this one! He shook his head. Oh well. Gonna be a keyhole peeper, I might as well do a thorough job of it! Voyeurism seems to be about the only kink that isn't going on around here tonight!
He was wrong.
Ambling a few steps down the hall and bending again, he peered into another nicely-lit room. This, obviously, was the master bedroom. Where Brian and Alexandra slept. Except that Brian was busy elsewhere. And his big Amazonian wife certainly wasn't sleeping!
My God!
Things had got a little more personal, and a lot kinkier. Through the keyhole of the master bedroom's door, Clay was now watching his wife-to-be sucking cunt...her mother's cunt!
It's a sexual circus around this damned place! Clay mused, with his fourth erection of the day prodding upward under his robe. God...and I expected a set of prim, old-fashioned parents. Hell, here I'm the one who's old-fashioned!
Gazing in at the corseted young brunette with the big tits rooting away between the latex-stock-tinged thighs of the corseted older brunette with the even bigger tits, Clay set about revising his thinking and his sexual attitudes.
He knew damned well Alison was no Lesbian. She was a four-alarm fire in bed-with him I Tonight she had sent him her needy older sister-he felt he could be sure of that, now. And Alexandra...had she sent her husband down to what Clay assumed must be Mary's room, to get sucked...while Alexandra got her pussy licked and sucked...by her daughter?
Jesus, he thought.
And then, Probably. These people are out of my league!
And then, with his lips tight and his resolve just as firm, Clay McConnel thought, I'll be goddamned if they are! I'll fucking well join their fucking league!
With that thought, he straightened, took a firm grip on himself and the doorknob, and turned the latter. He entered that carnal and incestuous bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
"You two need any help or is this strictly a family affair?"
Two bosomy brunettes turned blue eyes on him. Moistness from her mother's vaginal mouth sparkled on Alison's chin. The tip of her tongue appeared, traced over her lips.
"What-what are you doing up?" Alison asked. It was better than nothing, Clay supposed.
He stared at the mother and daughter Lesbian team on the bed.
"Well...after Monica came in and balled me, I went to sleep. A while ago I woke. Had to piss. I did. Heard noises, and saw Brian and Mary and Sexton, making it down the hall. Heard more noises and found you two." He paused, considered. "Yeah, that's it. That's pretty well what I'm doing up, Alison."
Mother and daughter looked at him. On her hands and knees between Alexandra's big forked thighs, Alison sighed, and her dangling tits twitched so that the nipples seemed to trace out designs above the other woman's body. Alison, he saw, wore pink lipstick. Her mother's mouth was fiery, glistening red.
"No," Alexandra said at last, and he was astonished that neither of the two appeared nonplussed by his appearance, his discovery of their girlstuff games. "We don't need help, Clay. But no, it isn't strictly a family affair, either. Do come in, Clay."
Alison smiled. "He is in."
"It might be better if you switched off the light?" Alexandra suggested.
Clay thought about that. He'd hate to miss the sight of the two most naked female bodies, decorated and enhanced as they were by the latex garments that made them even sexier, more lewdly sexy. But-yeah. Maybe it would be better, all around, if he turned off the bright overhead light. Backing up a pace, he reached behind him. Found the switch. Cut off the light-without a snap; the house was equipped throughout with silent mercury switches.
He stood awhile in the darkness, noting that a good deal of moonlight sneaked in through the undraped window. His eyes grew accustomed to that far dimmer light. The room became visible, the bed; the obscenely posed female bodies. He could see, in a sexily dim light.
Mother and daughter, he thought. Jesus.
And son-in-law to-be, he added mentally.
Then Clay took off his robe. Letting it drop to the floor in a little puddle of cloth, he stepped away from it. The young man went to join the young woman, and the older one, on the large bed.
"Don't let me interrupt you, Alison," he said, running a hand possessively over her nakedly upturned rump. "Go right on with what you were doing."
He heard Alexandra chuckle, and wondered just how much he dared with his future mother-in-law...the big sexy wench I
"Oh," Alison said, "uh...I...uh, Cla-ay...."
His hand suddenly gripped her chin. In the dimness, each could barely see the other's eyes as he shoved his face close up to hers, while he held it turned his way. He had not yet decided whether to be shocked, or mad, or glad; horrified or delighted or just accepting. It had all happened too fast. He had surprised himself by walking in on them, and they had shocked him right back, by being so cool and accepting of the interruption and his suggestion that he join them.
"Eat your mother," he said in a low, vibrant voice. "Alexandra's waiting, Alison. Eat your mother!"
"Ummmm," Alexandra said lazily, throatily. In addition to her latex corset and hose, the big woman wore gloves; long ones, tight and black, that rose past her elbows. They were of some soft, cool leather, the naked young man learned, when her hand came up to cup his testicles from beneath.
"What a lovely and nice and forceful man you are, Clay," Alexandra purred.
If there remained any ice to be broken, the way she cupped and fondled with slowly moving, gloved fingers the large well-stuffed pouch of his balls took care of it.
"You'd better do what he says, darling," Alexandra's softly purring voice went on, throaty and vibrant with a wanton's natural sexiness. "I'd hate to make him mad and have him leave us, now that this lovely and nice and forceful man has joined us."
Clay dropped one hand onto a massive pile of jiggly white flesh that lay mounded on Alexandra's chest. So broad-based and full were her tits that his hand did not cover it. He pressed down, his palm over a nipple like a large hard marble.
"I don't need a top sergeant to pass on what I say, Alexandra," he told her.
Alexandra said nothing. She just stepped up her manual stimulation of his balls, her long gloved fingers rising up to the hairy base of his penis.
Slowly, her daughter bent her head. Down and down, black hair toppling onto her mother's white thighs and black-sheathed belly. She roamed the other woman with soft hot wet diving tongue, pushing it sensuously over and into the wet flutter of her vaginal hole, letting it glide over slippery inner labia that were red as fire, withdrawing it from that juicy little slice to lick its engorged outer lips.
Then Alison's tongue traced out the entirety of her mother's pelvic perimeter, leaving it wet and glistening.
Alexandra's hand worked avidly at creating a monster between Clay's thighs. She moaned and quivered when her daughter's tongue tip trailed, very lightly, over the lips that guarded her belly's hot gap-and they opened to receive the incestuously Lesbianizing tongue.
All the while, Alexandra's hand worked over Clay's prick and balls, and his hand continued its tit-play. He was fascinated with the woman's breasts, which were fat and round, heavily padded with sexy female tissues. Except for a couple of pictures that could only be called gross, these were the biggest tits he had ever seen, much less had spread out so sumptuously before him to thrill and be thrilled by his amorous hands.
His fingers began toying with her firming nipples.
She sucked in a little gaspy breath and clamped his cockshaft.
He set his thumbs to her cherry-pink extrusions, grinning salaciously, teasing down at her. The supine brunette sighed and quivered, jerking her head as he began pushing with both thumbs.
"Uh...o-ohhh . .
Spurred by those throaty sounds of voluptuary pleasure from the woman she was gamahuching Alison began flicking her tongue rapidly bade and forth over her mother's clitoris.
The male intruder into their family games, meanwhile, pressed in with both thumbs. He managed to push both soft pouting mushrooms out of sight, burying them in the chalky bulges o tit flesh that he squeezed teasingly over them. She was gasping, stirring erratically.
He could feel them still, nipples that were firm and resilient and quivering with sensual yearning, hard lumps in the white flesh of her mammoth milk balls. He rolled them under his thumbs and they became harder within their encasement of rich flesh.
Lifting his thumbs, he watched the soft con formations of erectile flesh emerge. They rolled up out of their masses of marshmallow-like flesh to spear angrily up from her, juicily erect and in-flamed-looking.
While her gloved hand slipped sleekly up and down the now towering rod of his cock, he bent over her chest, He drew a lot of hard nipple into his mouth and began licking and sucking and giving it toothy little nips. With a grunt, Alexandra popped off an orgasm.
Drawing her mother's clit into her mouth, Alison began sucking and licking it and teasing the squirming big woman with toothy little nips to her body's very most sensitive flesh.
One hand worked on his cock; the other pressed to the back of his head, to urge Clay's mouth down onto Alexandra's high-mounded breasts.
His application of suction drew the thick stubby crown into his face. His tongue, applied stiffly to its very tip, pushed it out again. He held his mouth just so that her nipple had to scrape between his teeth as it was expelled. Then he sucked it in again. And tongued it out.
Moving restlessly into a better position and sighing around her prodigiously stiffening nipple, he speeded up his activity, until the thick tit-tip was squirting rapidly in and out of his face and saliva flowed forth to slide down the great sensuous curves of her breast. Groaning, Alexandra lurched in another orgasm.
He kept it up, pulling her nipple in and out, maintaining a slow and semi-gentle rhythm of tit-sucking that was excruciatingly pleasant. His fourth hard-on of the day stood out from his body, on an uptilting tangent with a bit of backcurve, thick and tumid and full of infusing blood. More flowed in to increase the stiffness as his heart beat with furious pulses and the frenetically aroused woman pumped her gloved hand up and down, up and down, from glans to balls and back again. Sweet feminine tongue tugged and tweaked the similar, much smaller hard-on stabbing out between the hot wet lips of her pussy. Sultry sap was pumping out of the silky curls that covered the tingling, blissful vaginal sheath. Her straining, throbbing clit was rock-hard, getting a thorough tongue-washing that had her writhing and trying to squirm all over the bed. She gasped and groaned. Another fiery jolt stabbed through her corseted belly, and she made a throaty groaning sound in that new orgasm. Teeth tightened more and more around her nipple, into her nipple. When she made no objection, he clamped it harder and began moving his mouth, deliberately making his teeth grate over that elongated bud. Throughout her sprawled big body, tension crumbled. Sweat popped from every pore.
Alexandra came again.
She began sobbing. "Please, oh please darling...no mo-o-orre...I can't STAND anymore!"
Her free hand pushed at her daughter's black-tressed head. Her other hand continued pumping the cock of her daughter's boyfriend.
He reached down and laced his fingers into Alison's flowing black locks. He tugged. With a slurping popping sound of released suction, her pink mouth came away from her mother's scarlet pussy. Saliva and cunt juice ran down Alison's chin as, on her hands and knees, she gazed from smoky eyes into his face.
Sliding down her soft hair, his hand left her. It came up under her, cupped one dangling breast. She was turned on, he found; the whole breast felt swollen and hard as a rubber ball, while the nipple had hardened into a stiff scarlet point, long and tumidly fat, like a .38 cartridge perched somehow on the end of her breast.
A wild thought came racing into Clay's head, and he grinned.
Alexandra was half out of it with her surfeit of pleasure. Clay pulled at Alison's tit until the girl flopped forward, sprawling on her mother's prostrate form and making the bigger woman grunt. Leaning on one of Alexandra's mighty mammaries, Clay kissed his woman.
"Your mother needs to be fucked."
"And how," Alison whispered. "Her crotch has developed a hole big enough to handle even that baseball bat of yours, and enough juice to fill a lemonade pitcher! But...darn it, I want that thing," she said, pressing his cock, her hand resting in her mother's gloved palm; the older woman's hand had dropped open. "She's had it all!"
"Ever tit-fucked her?"
"What?"
Clay squeezed the girl's big hard breast. "This is a hard cone...and you said she's well juiced and wide open. Scramble down there and work it into her."
"Good God! That...weird!"
"Oh, heavens to Betsy," Clay said, squeezing her breast, "I'd hate to think that anything weird happened in this house!"
Alison giggled. "Smarty! If...if I try that, what are you going to do?"
"Get behind you and give you a deep injection of baseball bat."
"Oh!" She shivered at the pleasurable thought. "I-I guess we could try...." She ducked her head, kissed his forearm. "Help me?"
"Uh...oh-m-m-mmm," her mother groaned.
Clay helped. He swung astride Alexandra, pillowing the cushions of his ass on the plump cushions of her tits-which were bigger and far more well-padded. Alison moved back and back, down between her mother's black-stockinged legs, and got into a precarious position, poised, with her big-nippled tit just at the wet open mouth of Alexandra's glistening red cunt.
With both hands, Clay distended the already gaping, pulpy lips.
"Uhhhh..." Alexandra groaned, shifting. Her gloved hand traced over his ass. "Ummmm ah "
With oily labia drawn well aside, Alison's nipple slipped from sight into her mother's pussy.
"Oh!" Alexandra said, as more hard, soft-skinned cone came pressing into her vaginal mouth. It felt strained; Clay was holding the lips wide.
Reaching back, the supine woman got a pillow under her head, then clapsed his naked buttocks with both hands.
"Ah! Oh damn!" he exclaimed, shivering, when he felt first her warm breath and then the fluttery, teasing strokes of her tongue up and down his asscrease.
With the first inch and a half of her breast forced into her mother's cunt, Alison looked questioningly up at him. "What's the matter?"
"NOTHING!"
Suddenly Alison really shocked him: "Mother! I know what you're doing! If your tongue in his ass makes him stay there and I don't get screwed tonight, I'll bite your damned predatory labia off!"
"Good lord!" Clay blurted.
Air rushed into his asscrease as the woman on whose tits he sat giggled. Her lips moving against his sensitive flesh and her voice muffled by it, she said, "Gla'. "
"Hmm?" He reached back to press one big roll of titflesh that was squelched sidewardly out by the pressure of his butt.
"You 'etter go huck my 'aughter behore I get 'itten!"
He decided that was "You'd better go fuck my daughter before I get bitten," and he laughed. Alexandra didn't even know what it was that was stuffed up her sapping pussy...the first three inches of Alison's breast, which that far back on its illustriously swollen cone must be three inches in diameter. His hands were no longer necessary to hold open the woman's pouchlips; Alison's breast had them straining in a big hot pink oval! Alexandra took it so easily because tits were not cock-hard.
"Just...get it right in, and wiggle it around," the completely captivated man said, without indicating to which woman his words were directed.
Both responded. Shoving her ripe young breast-turret into the gaping wet maw of her mother's crotch, Alison began moving her shoulders, making the breast slip in and out and move from side to side, actually straining the other woman's vulvar lips. Those slippery labia yielded more than the girl's boldly solid breast.
At the same time, Alexandra prodded hard with her soft pink tongue at the little crater of his ass-hole. Tongue-tip breached the slippery, clenching passage to try and challenge his annular muscles, and he quivered with delight and pleasure.
The slippery sliding of her delicate little female tongue up his ass-hole spurred his masculine ego, aroused sensual yearnings in him until the naked man began panting and squirming.
Bending forward, he gave her more ass at the same time as he pushed his thumb into Alison's mouth. She swirled spit around it and sucked sensuously-at the same time as the prone young woman continued moving her tit about inside her mother's sluicing wet cunt. And the older woman, with one leather-gloved hand clasping and pressing each of his ass-cheeks, did her best to impale his rectum with a tongue that was stiff as she could possibly make it.
Hot sensations rose up through his lower belly until he shuddered, though he was far from cold. Powerful desire made him feel dizzy. Before him stood a monster hard-on that was granite-hard and thicker than he had seen it in ages, a lust-maddened male weapon that absolutely had to be sheathed in a female scabbard, that was tortured and aching as though it had not eased its lust in a month-rather than three times in the previous eleven or so hours.
He hated to leave the sweet tongue up his ass. But the call of his cock was more powerful.
Alexandra sighed and dropped her black-gloved hands onto the white pillows of her tits when his butt left them and air surged coolly over the quivery masses.
Alison grinned hugely when he moved around behind her. She pushed her ass up as high as she could get it, without dislodging her breast from inside the hot wet clasp of her mother's vagina. A shiver of delight and lustful anticipation surged through the young women when his hands came onto the upturned rounds of her bottom. She wiggled in an obscene invitation, knowing her ass was white and that he could see, even in the room's dimness, the curly bush of jet black pussy hair that poked back between her thighs.
He saw it all right. Just as violent as he had been this afternoon-rather, yesterday afternoon-he crammed his violently swollen and pulsing cock into that furry nest and clove through the pulpy flesh it covered.
Alison lurched forward with the suddenness and force of his rearward entry. Hers and her mother's groans leaped up simultaneously. Alison felt the double sensation of violently impaled pussy and suddenly hard-squeezed tit. Alexandra felt only the former-the most pressure being at the outer reaches of her cunt, where she was most sensitive, for she was now being grotesquely dilated at the cunt-mouth by a breast whose mass was in her more than halfway to its base. Though it was pliable, not so hard as a cock, it was very broad and spread her painfully. Had that pussy-dilating tit been as unyieldingly hard as the stave ramming up her daughter's cunt from behind, Alexandra would surely have been torn bloodily open.
Clay's hard fast lunges were violent, rooting. The impacts of his body against Alison's backside drove her forward, and her tit was nearly swallowed in pulpy, marshy wet vaginal membranes.
The naked man, more highly aroused than he had ever been in his life, thought of none of that. All he could think of was letting his body do its thing. That precluded thought, blotted out the feel of anything but his balls swinging against Alison and his cock slamming through her squirmy in-sides, the smell of cunt and cuntal sap, the sound of slapping flesh and grunts and groans and moans, some of which were his own.
He made her jerk and quiver, rammed her rump until she was moaning and babbling with the pleasure of taking his full length from behind while his hips pounded the snowy ass-globes thrusting out above her silky thighs.
He skewered her deep. Her breast skewered her mother's cunt, broadly and to a depth of perhaps five inches-and more.
"All the way!" Alison squealed. "Push it in all the way!"
"Y-yes!" her mother seconded, groaning and squirming, helplessly impaled, egregiously dilated and unable not to love it and want more, more.
Behind Alison the straining man grunted: "Oh baby-I'm mashing your ass-cheeks now!"
"CRUSH them then!"
He tried. With every violently splatting in-stroke his scrotum swung to smack beneath her and his body slammed into her meaty rear cheeks. Cock drove far into her, hurling aside every internal tissue. But always it withdrew, as if teasing her to return with a hot-hard-long plumbing plunging rush that was far more urgent than teasing.
Suddenly Alexandra's hands were out, grabbing, clutching her daughter's unencunted breast and sinking deeply into it was leather-sheathed fingers. She pulled the thick nipple, hard, mercilessly, making it stretch far away from the breast, which was also stretching. Its twin strained into the slippery wet cunt even more deeply.
Clay pounded and lunged into the hot pudding-like morass that consumed that shaft of hard flesh.
With a loud cry, Alexandra came still again and went very limp.
Another cry rose, and the girl impaled on Clay's prick went rigid. He felt her cunt clamping on his dick as she came, and with a groan he let himself be milked, milky fluids squirting from his cock into her receptive chamber.
All three of them lay in a state of utter collapse for a long while, completely fucked out. After several minutes, Clay rolled onto his side. A minute or so after that, Alison extracted her come-smeared breast from her mother's pussy with a sound like that of a rubber-shod foot being dragged out of quicksand.
Alexandra groaned at that, clamped both hands to her vulva, and hunched onto her side. She partially curled, fetally.
It was then that Clay McConnel got his first look at Alison Spencer's mother's ass.
The Valkyrian Alexandra had an inch-long stretched well into her right buttock, where it bulged whitely from beneath her black latex corset. Studying that big capital S with wide eyes, Clay realized that it had been branded there.
Jesus, he thought. Men talk about putting a brand on their women...old Brian Spencer did! An S for Spencer, burned into her big right ham!
A few minutes later, a weary Alison returned him, wearily, to his own room. There he collapsed on the bed and slept instantly and very soundly.
CHAPTER SIX
It was late when Clay awoke the next morning, and later still by the time he got downstairs. The house was quiet. Mary and Sexton were having coffee in the kitchen. Sexton finished his just as Clay came in, and the butler said he had some things to do.
Mary gave Clay a report: Brian had risen at the usual time, and with his son Edmund he had gone to work. Monica was gone, too, in one of the other cars. Melanie was outside. Clay curbed his smile when the maid told him that neither Alison not her mother was up yet.
"It isn't like them, either of them," Mary said.
Clay jerked his head. "You never know, I guess."
He had sat down at the table; she gave him a cup of coffee and set the sugar bowl and creamer beside it.
"What would you like for breakfast?" He blinked. What would he like! "Ah...normal breakfast. Eggs. Meat."
"I'll bet it's a steak and eggs day for you. Steak and eggs coming up." Just beside his chair, she paused. "Or would you rather be sucked off?"
"Jesus!" He slapped her ass. She responded instantly with a giggle and a skip forward. "Steak V eggs!"
She began preparing. "Did you sleep well."
"Oh yeah."
"Good. I just thought...a strange house and all. Some people-"
"Nope. Slept like a log," Clay assured the bustling, fascinatingly uniformed young Puerto Rican.
"I'm so glad," Mary assured him.
He was sure she wanted to say, and or ask more. He didn't encourage that anymore than he had her suggestion of giving him a morning-well, almost noon-blowjob. Making her think he was the mopey sort in the morning, he sat and listened to the radio beside the stove while she produced sizzling sounds and marvelous aromas.
She interrupted her cooking to fix him more coffee.
Eggs, a pair, scrambled, had never tasted better than they did with the juicy, sizzling chunk of cow she served him with them. He also consumed two pieces of toast, which she buttered, and mopped up the reddish juices from his plate. Uncharacteristically, he had even consumed the fat
"You do eat with a beautiful appetite!" Mary said, with recognizably genuine pleasure. "This is the cleanest plate I've seen around this house in a long time!"
"The man was hungry, the food was marvelous."
It was then that a door banged, and a few seconds later the small younger sister came gustily into the kitchen. Melanie wore one of Mary's embroidered denim work shirts, a quite small size that seemed to be missing its first three buttons, and a pair of pale green jeans, unbelted. They fit like jeans, cupping her pretty ass-cheeks and looking as if they were trying to pucker right up into her pussy. Short boots sheathed her lower calves.
"HI! How are YOU today?"
"Great!" he said, just as enthusiastically. "Well fed and wide awake."
She checked her watch. "Wow, I'd think so! Mom and Ally up yet, Mare?"
Mary shook her head. Melanie gave hers a jerk, while rolling her large eyes.
"Brother! Heck of a way to treat a guest. My sister doesn't appreciate a good man, Clay," she said, starting to put on an overdone dramatic act, hand to breast. "Come, come my knight-fly with me and leave that woman who appreciates you not. I shall make you happy forever."
"OK."
Melanie laughed. "You sure are easy!" He shrugged. "What the hell am I going to do with myself."
"Come riding with me."
"Riding?"
"Riding, You know. like, horses." She held imaginary reins, curveted around the kitchen, and whinnied. She also jarred Mary, who gave her a surly look. "Riding. Horses. Two. One each. C'mon."
Clay went with Melanie. Tony saddled two horses for them, nodding when Clay assured him he was a novice, nodding again when the girl reminded him to double check the girth-strap of Clay's saddle.
Clay had been on a horse twice in his life. At least he didn't embarrass himself to begin with; on the horse's left, he hoisted his right foot to shove it into the stirrup, and swung up and into the saddle. The horse, dappled gray, didn't move a muscle.
"I think I got the gentlest horse on the place."
"Sure you did," Melanie said. "If I'd known you were gonna mount up like John Wayne, I might've given you Hell raiser."
"I don't think I belong on any animal with a name like that!"
Laughing, Melanie led the way around the side of the barn. Clay's horse went along willingly enough, but without enthusiasm. Its rider stared appreciatively when the girl bent down to unlatch a gate opening into a broad long field that was tree-bordered on two ends. The tightly-molded, very round cheeks of her otherwise smallish rump looked as if they were going to pop right through the green jeans.
They didn't. She left the gate open. She began teaching him how to post, so they could trot. Clay picked it up with fair speed and only fair expertise. The trotting of his mount-whose name was Hiyo Silver-still shook him and rattled his teeth, while Melanie, rising fluidly in the stirrups in precise timing with her horse's rough but predictable gait, looked just beautiful.
They tried a gallop. After the initial phase (scared to death), Clay found that was a lot easier to handle than the trot. He let Melanie lead, noting that his Hiyo Silver followed her King Edward; Clay was happy to let his horse handle that, while Melanie handled direction and pace. At least he hoped she was. She looked like she knew what she was doing. He'd hate to discover that it was the horses who were in charge.
Down by the trees at the far end of the field, she reined in. Clay started to, but Silver eased up himself. Herself. Whatever. Clay neither knew nor cared. Side by side, Silver and Edward paced along the tree line.
"You ride mighty well, slicker."
"You led, Silver followed. I stayed on."
She laughed. "That's an accomplishment, believe me! Hey-what d'you think of the family by now?"
"What do I think of the family."
"That's what I asked. Go ahead. Try being honest."
"OK," Clay said, nodding. "You're all weird." She laughed.
He said, "Tell me, little bird, do you fuck, too?"
Immediately she said, "Of course. Here, everybody fucks." He sighed. He couldn't even shake up the youngest member of the family. The horses plodded on. "Who?" Clay asked.
"Everybody here balls everybody," Melanie told him.
The horses plodded on. She twitched the rein, led the way into the trees. Silver followed Edward, with Melanie being most careful not to let a branch snap back at the man behind her.
"Careful, tall in the saddle, this's a low one."
"I'll steer around it, thanks," he said, and did.
She laughed. "Steer?"
"Don't make fun of me, cowgirl, or I'll have to lasso and hogtie you."
"Save that for Debbie," Melanie threw over her shoulder.
"What?"
She pulled up, turned. Sun fingered down through the trees, and he saw that there were glints of red in her long black hair. She wore it with the usual center part, and today had it caught around the top by a cloth fillet: a band of pale blue that he noticed came closer to the color of her eyes than her shirt.
"And how do you like the family tits?"
Clay rolled his eyes and gave his head a shake. "That's even more direct than direct, Melanie. I am a male human being. I love the family tits."
"Good. And what about the family waists?" Calmly, she pulled her denim blouse out of her denim pants and began unbuttoning it, from the bottom.
"I noticed you're wasp-waisted, too. You've got on the same kind of corset Alison wears?"
"And Mother, and Mary, and Monica, yep. And, sometimes, Daddy. Want one?"
"I...think I could do without a corset, thanks."
"Want one of these?" She peeled back the limp shirt to show him an even thinner, see-through bra. Its cups housed a pair of grapefruits that appeared to be tipped with clearly visible berries of deep pink.
"I've had breakfast."
She inspected her watch, extended her wrist so he could see. "It's lunchtime." She studied his face with her blue-eyed gaze. "Clay? Let's let the horses grab a little grass, OK?"
"While we do what, you with the tits-out blouse and the black latex corset?"
She said, "Oh...play around a little."
They dismounted and, on the far bank of a lazy stream that made an assortment of gurgly trickly wet noises over rocks, they played around a little. Both of them were steamed up in practically no time.
He didn't know if it was a conspiracy or not. First Alison's sister Monica, then her mother, and now her younger sister. While they stood kissing, she had a hand on his ass and another on the back of his neck, while a jeaned thigh pressed between his-and moved steadily up and down, teasing his balls with gently jarring strokes.
He decided. He shoved both hands down into her skin-tight jeans, which must have made her feel as if she was being cut in two at the waist. With a hand on each of the two bare, cool cheeks he found down there, he held her against him and sucked the snake-wriggly tongue she drove into his mouth. She helped, trying to crush his chest with her breasts and succeeding mainly in squashing the firm young balls all out of shape inside their bra.
"You're...cutting me in two!"
He squeezed her buttocks. "Off with the pants, then."
"Off with the pants," she echoed, and opened hers, then his. Each of them dragged down the other's jeans. His genitals were compactly contained in the black latex shorts he'd been given, or loaned; hers were on display, shielded with red-brown hair. She had to hold onto him to get her pants off over her boots; he helped hold her up with one hand in her crotch and the other on a breast that he found, surprisingly, was slightly less firm than Alison's.
Pantsless, molded in bra and corset, she smiled into his eyes-and pushed a hand into the front of his shorts.
"Uh!"
"Uh yourself. So we're both crotch-grabbers. Want me?"
"More than that. I'm damned well going to have you!" He surrounded her lips with his and applied suction to coax her tongue into his mouth. It came willingly, a thick tongue, wigwagging wildly.
"Listen, I want to bend over for you," she said at last, a little short of breath.
"All right. I'd love to see this hard-cheeked ass I've been fondling!"
"And to screw me between those cheeks?" she asked. Her voice was a low throaty purr that reminded him of her mother's.
"Ah-Melanie." His heartbeat had speeded up. While the concept fascinated him, and he'd read and thought plenty about it, he'd never fucked an ass in his life. "I'm...built pretty big."
With her hand in his shorts, she squeezed. "I know. I can feel it. Makes me twitch and tingle all over-especially in my...anus. Besides, Alison said so. But it's OK."
"OK my eye. I could tear you-ALISON SAID SO!"
"Sure. She's...reported on you, Mister Sexy Clay McConnel. Anyhow...see, that's where I like it. I'm seventeen, Clay. And since I was eleven I've been taking male tool up my back."
She spoke quietly, earnestly. He blinked. "Eleven!"
Melanie nodded. "Uh-huh. We're a sexy family, Clay. Probably the sexiest ever-the sexiest family ever told!"
"I didn't even know there was more than one thing I could do with my cock when I was eleven!"
"I didn't have one. But I've had them in me...all the men you've met here, and some others besides."
"ALL?"
"All." She nodded unembarrassedly. "Tony's. Daddy's. Edmund's. Sexton's. And all in the same place."
He managed to refrain, for once, from saying "Jesus." He squeezed her firm round ass-cheeks, slipped a finger into the crease between them. It was not deep; it was hot. She trembled and pushed backward, against his hands. "In here," he said.
"In-n-n-n theer-r-r-rrre," she said, dreamily.
"Turn around, cowgirl," he said.
"STANDING UP?"
"I want to measure us."
She turned around. Her high, round buttocks were beautiful, firm and well-parted, with only a trace of the dimples above them showing below the edge of the tightly-laced corset.
"The height is just right," he told her, letting her feel his crotch against her ass. "I thought so."
"Wow! I've NEVER been balled standing up! Oh wow-how about if I stand against that tree, and-oh wow, yeah man!"
She broke away from him, hurried the few feet to the fat-boled sycamore, gray and green and sturdy. She braced her rounded legs well apart, leaned forward to set her hands against the three, and walked them down, bending until her lovely rump was upturned and he could see the sweet little packet of her dark-curled pussy.
She looked back at him around her shoulder.
"Oh! That is a big one!"
"Too much?" he asked, skinning the tight thin sheath of rubber that formed his shorts the rest of the way off.
She sighed. "Ooooh! Come and find out!"
With his cock jumping and swinging around lewdly, he went over to the bowed, waiting girl. Seventeen, he thought, letting his hands wander the emphatically firm skin of each widely-spaced half of her juicy ass. And fucking-ass-fuckingsince she was eleven. I wonder who was first into this cute little cul-which must've been a damned sight more little, then!
She shivered, wagged her hips, and a coating of goose pimples appeared on the solid melons of her cheeks. Twin quivering balls of vanilla cream flesh, they were widely split right down the middle. The cheeks framed a tempting target, a dainty little ring of whiskey-colored skin that looked to be slightly less tightly coiled and more puckered than the ass-holes he'd seen, even in X movies in which far less shapely chicks took cock up the back with seeming ease and lack of pain.
"Oh," she breathed, again giving her hips a slow gyration. "Oh, come into me, baby...I'm so ready for you...slow, slo-o-ow-w-w-w-w..."
He pressed the head of his cock between her bottom-cheeks and up against that darling little anal hole. He pushed.
The bent girl shivered as her anal ring opened slowly, as if reluctantly, to give him admittance into the well-secured chamber of buggery. She sucked up a good breath, pressed against the tree, and poked her ass back. Then, wringing and shivering, she had an ass-hole full of pulsing cock.
"Ummmmmmmmm," she sighed, and for a moment she was going to fall right down in pleasure.
She didn't; she kept her legs braced against the ground and her hands against the tree.
He kept it still and quiet up her rectal chute, waiting for her to decide when she was ready for more, for him to move. He could see that the skin of that puckered slot was stretched taut as the head of a drum. It contracted involuntarily, squeezing him strongly in the round little tube, then opened suddenly. With a long sigh, she relaxed in full acceptance of his massive, probing erection up her unvirginal ass-hole.
"Oh-ummmmm. Oh, baby I Can I ever feel you! That's the biggest bone I've ever had in me, man! And...it feels nothing but good!"
He caressed her flanks, standing still behind her, with a couple of inches of cock out in the cold. "You're sure about that?"
"Uh-huh." She shivered. "UMMMMM Have-have I got it all?"
"Nope."
"WOW!"
He began to effect a long, slow withdrawal, watching his cock emerge, watching her anus stretch along the shaft, dingily.
"Melanie? You're sort of getting my cherry."
"What?"
He smiled. "I've never fucked an ass before."
"No KID-dingg?"
"No shit. No kidding." Did I have to mention that? But contrary to what he'd read, there wasn't a sign of shit on his prick. He had an idea that too damned many books were written by guys who had never tried what they wrote about.
"Gee, that's exciting," Melanie said. Her anus was squeezing hard, now, with him back out until only the glans was inside the ring. "Do you like it?"
"I love it. And here I come back."
"A-A-AH-H-HHHHHHH! Oh boy, do you come BACK!"
He pumped three times, in and out, thrilled. The only times his cock had ever been more tightly clasped was in a hand.
"Tight?" she asked, wiggling.
"Uh-huh!"
"Hot?"
"Amen!"
"Nice?"
"Great!"
She laughed aloud in happiness, standing bent with her ass-hole full the big cock of her sister's boyfriend. "Let's...let's stop talking," she gasped, taken by a new shiver. "Just...just fuck me, OK? Give me a good hard ride, Clay!"
His heart seemed to leap joyously up and flop over with a thud. "Brace yourself," he said.
Then he began giving her a good hard ride. He stabbed his cock in and out of her much widened little ass-hole with swift back-and-forth swings of his hips. He had all the power and control in the world, standing this way. He lurched in hard, staffing that sweaty little hole like the corking of a bottle. With drum-thumping heart, he thundered into the young girl's rectal canal.
Gone was that sexy, pouting anal rosebud-now a great round juicy hole hugged his prick, fitted itself to its shape and extruded taut flesh along it with each of his outstrokes. Even her ass-cheeks were wedged lewdly wide-and pounded steadily by his lurching pelvis.
The girl was fucking herself, too. Loving it up the ass, loving this biggest cock she had ever housed there, she took advantage of her standing position and the leverage gained by her hands against the tree. Her whole body moved. She swung the spheres of her backside with a swerving play of her hips, happily fucking the scarlet mouth between them.
Hot sensations raced into him from his imprisoned hard-on. Her rectal cunt closed on it like a vise of elastic flesh all around his bony stiffness. Her movements and his pumps were roughly stretching and distending that clinging ring with the smooth knob of his prick.
Thank God, she loosened up and became very moist inside. He supposed that was sweat and cock juice, since he didn't yet know that an anus in love with its penetrator oiled itself much the same as a cunt. It was going to be over damned soon anyhow, but with her wet and hot so tight this way, he could prolong it a bit longer.
She came first. He saw-and felt-an anal orgasm for the first time.
Little quivers of stress were running up and down his calves from the long standing and pushing, straining his calves to control his movements against her upturned backside and in and out of its soft hot hollow. He eased up while she came, groaning, and bent his knees a little to change the direction of strain.
Slowly his nuts relaxed inside their snug little bag. The muscular twitch in his left calf eased up, stopped. He drew and expelled several long, deep breaths.
Then he resumed his strong pumping into her ever-widening ass-hole. He shuddered though; never had he felt such incredible squeezing tightness in his life.
He knew then that he must extend this new knowledge, his new thrill of buggery. Alison would feel his cock up her ass!
Stepping up the pace, swinging his hips rapidly back and forth, he gave the bent teenager a good hard eviscerating rear fuck with all the force of his hips. The blood of atavistic passion pulsed through his veins like liquid fire.
Tremors flowed through the milky-white cheeks of her rump as he drove between them and fucked up her ass-hole. Heavy, sperm-stuffed agates swung to rap her quiver-filled flesh. The pressure mounted and mounted inside them.
A line of ice ran up his back. "I'm...going to...spray your ass...full of come!" he gasped out
"Yes! Oh yes, do, do that! Shoot in me-Ahhhhhh!"
His legs quaked and felt weak and his nuts seemed trying to draw up into his churning guts.
His cock jerked, coming in long hard spurts up into her cringing back.
It was the greatest orgasm experience he'd experienced in a long while, because her rectum remained tight around his penis the whole while, not growing a bit more loose in sensation even when he had thoroughly slicked it with semen.
He was still gasping, standing behind her on trembling legs, when she herself pulled her body forward. He looked down, watched his less hard cock tug slowly, obscenely out of her outstretching anal mouth. Then it popped free and swung loosely down. It was streaked, he saw, only with semen. Again contrary to what he had read, there was not the faintest trace of brown on his dirt-chute digger.
The girl partially straightened, then spun around and bent to suck and lick the deflating peter straight out of her ass-hole. Her red-shot black hair was a soft caress against his belly and on his thighs where it tumbled loosely.
"That lucky dam' Alison...you do have a magnificent cock! And you're not hung-up either, are you?"
"How could I be, around this place?"
With a laugh, she gave his cock a squeeze and his lips a kiss. Then the girl began dressing, suggesting that he do the same. Clay did, mostly watching her. As they approached the horses he said, "Melanie."
"Hhh?" She gave him a girlish questioning look, eyebrows up.
He patted her green-jeaned fanny. "I loved fucking your ass."
"Ohh! I loved you doing it-and you did do a thorough job, Mister!"
Smiling happily, Clay and Melanie dragged the horses away from the grass they had been cropping, mounted up, and headed back for the barn.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As the two horses approached the rear of the Spencer barn, Melanie shushed Clay to silence. He picked up on her conspiratorial manner and shut up, becoming her accomplice in...he didn't know.
When she swung down, so did he. In silence, they hitched the horses there, behind the barn, to the uprights supporting a wooden hay-chute that ran down from the loft. A small door was set into the back of the barn up there. It was through it that hay was loaded into the loft, to be dropped down for the horses, particularly in winter.
Sitting down at the base of the chute, Melanie removed her boots. Each had a strap for tugging them on; she attached them to her belt-loops, then stood. She waited while Clay emulated her. He watched, then, while the girl walked barefoot up the polished chute, bent forward and upward, with a hand on the rail on either side. Pausing precariously at the top, she opened the little door of wood slats. It opened outward, and she had to hang on and lean back.
Stepping into the loft, she turned and beckoned. Clay found that the chute was not so steep as it looked, and that his feet seemed to adhere to the polished wood of the chute so that he was agile enough in making the climb. He was soon at her side, inside the barn on its second level. It was warm, and they were surrounded by hay. She pulled the little door to with silent care.
When the girl sat down on a bale of hay and began replacing her boots, so did Clay. He had no idea of the reason for their stealth, but it was fun. Who were they sneaking up on, and why?
Walking as silently as he could on a smooth, hardwood floor littered with hay, he followed the stealthy girl across the dimness of the loft.
She halted again, this time beneath big overhead beams. From one of them dangled a rope, both ends hanging from where it passed over a pulley attached to a beam. The ends of the rope disappeared through a square hole in the floor. It was through the hole, Clay realized, that hay was dropped to the floor, eight feet below. Thus the horses could not get at the ray until it was dropped to them.
The ropes, he noticed, were drawn taut, and they trembled with some sort of strain. Joining Melanie in the almost darkness, he peered down.
He was looking at two short people, one with curly black hair, the other a silky-looking mass of blonde waves. Tony, the gardener-handyman and his equally young wife, Debbie. Tony wore a white tee shirt that stretched taut over a good chest and showed the fine wiry musculature of his arms and his fiat stomach. His pants were black chinos.
His wife wore heeled boots, the predictable corset of black latex-laced very tightly up the front, rather than the back-and nothing else, unless one counted the broad belt of black leather that was buckled about her tiny waist, outside the corset. The belt gleamed with five or six O-shaped rings, shiny nickel.
The young woman's wrists were bound together and secured to a big hook at the end of the rope depending from the loft. But it was not that which forced her to stand on tiptoe. To her left nipple, which was far more scarlet than the right, was clipped a standard, normal clothespin. To its end was attached a slim cord, like fishing line. It ran tautly up to a beam, around which it had been passed twice before being tied.
Debbie's right breast stuck straight out in a lovely cone, raised by the pressure on her upraised arms. Her left titty, though, strained upward from her body, and the tied cord attached to its clamping clothespin was what kept her on her toes. Clay gathered that the clothespin was too tight to pull off without being opened-or extreme pain-and she maintained her position to relieve the strain as best she could.
Using a leather strap no wider than a finger and about four feet long, her husband was calmly, methodically beating her. Nor were the lashes mere love taps.
Clay's stomach tightened up, as did his fists...but then he realized that Debbie's writhing and moans were of pleasure, not agony. The little blonde, then, was one of those people who loved bondage and pain, perhaps needed it to get off: a genuine masochist, if the latter was true.
He watched the slim whip fall with a hiss on the cheeky buttocks which it partially enwrapped, bringing a jerk and a loud grunt from the victim. The whip dropped away and Clay raised an eyebrow at the deep pink stripe that marked the blonde's lily-white hued bottom.
He remembered a line from one book or another about whipping, how the lashes had "changed the lilies into roses, and the roses into poppies." Clay remembered, too, the recent book from Gerald and Caroline Green: S-M The Last Taboo. Among other things, they had noted that Kinsey's Institute for Sex Research, at IU, had found that 20% of the males and 12% of the females surveyed had admitted to having been aroused by "sadomasochistic" stories. Which probably meant that several percent more had been, but had not "confessed." Mainly because the country was full of dummies who still wouldn't or couldn't admit that bondage, pain, and sexuality were all mixed up in nearly every member of the race.
So was almost any form of violence, Clay mused, watching Tony's whip-his loving whip-fall again on his wife's naked backside. He had noticed and would never forget how obviously turned on Alison had been when he "raped" her, just yesterday. Rape to most women, real rape, was an absolutely horrible experience. But the thought of it was undeniably erotic to many.
"The sex murderer," the Greens had noted in their book, "is seldom a sadist."
Clay doubted whether Tony was, either. If you loved someone, and that someone was a masochist, wasn't giving them what they wanted and needed an act of love?
"HOOOOOOOO-UGH-O-O-ONNNNGHHH!" the blonde below groaned out loudly, and the secretly watching Clay and Melanie knew that Debbie had come, from being whipped.
Melanie began playing with Clay's cock.
Tony waited while his wife gasped and shivered out her orgasm. Then the whip rose, trembled, and swept down to slash her harshly across both her helplessly-and willingly!-proffered cheeks.
She sobbed aloud.
"Enough, baby?" Tony asked, staring at her wealed ass.
"N-no," she said, squirming. "P-please...more, give me more, darling!"
He gave her more. The whip cracked very loudly onto her corset, but Clay was sure she felt that less than the thwacks on the butt, though they made far less noise. Shivers coursed through the girl's pain-racked, sweat-glistening form and her tears flowed in wet rivulets. Nerve-flaming spasms twitched her thighs, and her hips were surging back and forth, hunching, urging her pussy to an invisible lover in obvious growing sensuality. The relentless whip snapped her again to leave a new stripe across her twin rear globes.
Melanie dug Clay's cock out of his pants and the latex shorts, and her fist slid up and down, up and down, while the two of them stared down at the fascinating scene.
"Debbie needs it," Melanie whispered, with her lips brushing Clay's ear. "It's-you know, her thing," she added unnecessarily.
Dropping the whip, Tony approached his wife and fondled her streaked, silky rump. She moaned and sighed at his touch and her flexed hips forced the full round cheeks out in exaggerated prominence. They saw her strain her neck to kiss her husband, heard her murmur, "I love you."
Tony took her down from her straining position of bondage-and bound her anew. This time he used leather straps to make a package of her, all bent and doubled and redoubled, with her bruised and welted ass up and out.
When he pushed his sturdy hard-on into her and began fucking her strongly from behind, Melanie dropped to her knees began sucking Gay's prick. Tony had to ball his woman from behind; her wrists were bound back above her butt, her ankles and knees were tied together, and she was in a tight kneeling position, breasts squashed onto her thighs, heels into her lower ass-cheeks, her face at her knees. She looked like a human package ready to be brown-papered, stringed, and mailed.
The noises were very juicy as Tony squatted and slung his cock in and out of her, again and again, granting and gasping, driving hard, his loins and the forefronts of his tawny, black-haired thighs spanking her striped ass-cheeks.
In Melanie's softly suckling mouth, Clay's penis was just as hard and needy, and considerably bigger. Staring down at the way Tony's went in and out of the submissive, totally helpless and motionless little blonde, Clay licked his lips. Melanie made a tiny "nguh" sound as his prick grew still bigger.
Clay watched the short dark man come, ramming in hard to explode his jism well up his whipped wife's pussy.
With a long sigh, Tony pulled out, and rose to his feet on shaky legs.
"MORE!" Debbie wailed. "I NEED Mo-O-O-orrrrre!"
"Bitch," Tony said, and slapped her ass.
Tugging at the rope-and-pully-mounted hay-hook, he pushed it through one of the rings on the back of Debbie's belt, and then hooked it under the rope connecting her wrists. That way the pressure was borne by both waist and arms as he began pulling on the rope's other end, hoisting the red-assed package of woman flesh.
Up she came, five or six inches at a time, the pulley creaking. She swayed and swung, turning slightly this way and that, rising higher and higher-to the square hole where stood Clay McConnel!
Melanie gave his dick a hard swallowing suck, let it out patted it and squeezed his balls, and rose to her feet She made a half-bow and a sweeping gesture: presenting him with Debbie, whose trussed, folded form was now rising through the square hay-drop. Then, blowing Clay a kiss, Melanie left him.
The packaged Debbie now swung and turned slowly in midair-precisely at the level of Clay's loins and only a foot or so away. Tearing his gaze from her proffered, whip-marked ass, he looked down.
The other end of Debbie's rope had been tied off. Tony was gone. Clay blinked, licked his lips.
"Mo-o-orrre," Debbie whispered.
He stared at the dangling, spinning package of naked female flesh turning slowly before him. Her pale-furred cunt was reddened, open, very wet.
"Oh please mo-ore," the blonde whimpered.
Clay reached out to catch hold of the rope a foot or so above her cramped body. He pulled her toward him. A touch adjusted the angle, since she had a tendency to swing and turn a little at the end of her tether. Then with his hands on her bound thighs he tugged her back and both of them sighed as his cock slid easily into her wet and wide-open cunt.
Hanging onto her hips, digging his fingers into the hot crevices between her thighs and belly where they were jammed together, he held that human pendulum in place. And he fucked . . .it. It loved the deep penetration, and made sighing gasping happy mewling noises to make certain he knew that he gave nothing but pleasure.
Gathering momentum, he pounded hell out of her whipped haunches with a flurry of swift hard strokes that carried him well up into her.
Her cunt was a lake, leaking her juices and her husband's. A long string of spermy semen swung down, down, and broke off to drop through the square hay-chute and splat onto the floor below. Clay's huge purplish rod whipped in and out of her vastly dilated pussy so swiftly and easily that he wondered it did her any good at all.
But yes; her labia moved, writhing, and he felt the ripple of her pulpy, meaty inner tissues. The little blonde wasn't huge in the vagina; she was small. It was just that she was so extremely wet...he knew she was feeling plenty of friction...and so was he.
Perversely, he gave her a push. Her folded body swung away, until only the swollen wet tip of his cock still pressed between her cunt lips. The Law of Motion came into play. She swung back. Her own slight momentum buried his cock up her.
He pushed her again. She swung out, and back, her wet furrow sliding warmly down his cock-staff until her butts banged off his upper thighs, and he shoved her again.
Thus he made her even more literally a human pendulum, and thus he fucked her, or rather let the pendulum fuck itself on him, for he stood still while her swinging body jammed itself full, time after time. And she came again, sighing and breathing thanks and wordless sighs.
He stood at the edge of the hay-drop, and pushed her back and forth, back and forth, listening to the juicy squishy noises of rigidly immovable cock into mobile cunt, noting the drop of their combined juices-and Tony's-down to the barn floor below, listening to her sighs and happy whimpers, and enjoying the whole weird scene thoroughly.
His hands gripped the widespread cheeks of her bottom tightly, drew her back onto the big bobbing stalk of his cock. Moltenly volatile cuntal folds caressed every inch of that throbbing fleshy hardness that poled up her from behind.
Then he pushed her away again.
She was helpless, a helplessness-loving, fuck-loving package who could do nothing but be manhandled and pierced, allow her own pendulum-like motion to get her moist and glistening labia distended and the thoroughly wet channel of her vagina stuffed with thick male tool.
She had stopped making anything resembling needy noises, sated and happy, when he at last groaned and dragged her back hard while he blew his wad up into her cunt from behind.
Sagging at the knees, feeling a little dizzy after two standing fucks in one afternoon, Clay let go the girl-package. He watched his semen drool out of her widened, reddened hole to splash to the floor nine or ten feet beneath her.
When he glanced around, it was to find Tony sitting on a bale of hay a few feet behind him, feet up. The short, dark, young man was chewing an alfalfa stem. He smiled around it.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "You look shot down. I'll take care of her now."
CHAPTER EIGHT
That night, after dinner, Clay and the Spencers played poker-all but Melanie, who was out on a date. Clay lost a dollar and eighty-five cents.
"Good," Brian beamed, raking in his winnings. "This hotel hereby charges you a buck eighty-five for room and board, Clay."
Clay grinned. "OK. Having paid, I think TA like to join you for another drink."
They had that drink, while the others wended off bedward-maybe. Who, Clay mused, could ever be sure who was going to bed around this place-and with whom? He and Brian had a little talk, but there was no hair-raising questioning about Clay's finances or future, none at all. They did talk quite a bit about latex, and the business, and the country, and how in hell it was possible to have inflation and depression simultaneously ("Because Arthur Burns," Brian Spencer said, "does not know his posterior from an excavation. He'd have made a fine king...in about Ten B.C.")
They parted company, and Clay, who had showered before dinner and washed the essence of two women and two men-including himself-off his genitals, now merely stripped and crawled into bed.
He wasn't sleepy. Excitement was too high. It would be just too much-or rather, not enough-if there wasn't some kinky sexual activity around the old nuthouse tonight!
He was not disappointed. Again, he had a surreptitious nocturnal visitor, which is to say that a naked lady joined him in bed about a half-hour after he entered it
"All right," he said, as his bed was mounted in the darkness by a nigh-invisible body, "who is it this time?"
"You were expecting maybe Madame de Pompadour?"
It was Alison. She came nakedly against him, and he had kissed and been kissed, fondled and been fondled for eight or ten minutes before he realized.
"Hey!" He moved his hands over naked flesh. "You-you're nekkid!"
"It's the only way to fly," she murmured, nuzzling his nipple.
"I mean-I'm actually feeling your waist. You've got skin! You're not wearing your corset!"
She giggled. "I noticed that, too. Mother took it off, and I've just had a thorough sponging. Feels good."
"Wow! I've never even seen you totally naked!"
"Permission is hereby granted," she said, "to feel all you want. Urn mm m mm. Yeah, there, too, man!"
"Skin's just as soft as that latex," he announced, caressing her denuded waist and back with both hands. "God-I want to see!"
She giggled again. "Actually I am very fat."
"I'll be damned!" The evidence of his hands was to the contrary, way over to the contrary.
"Anyhow-would you mind seeing another time?" she asked softly, cupping his balls and handling them fondly. She was moving downward.
"Darling, I want you to be done, and that's all. Will you keep your hands at your sides and be absolutely still?" Her wet wriggly tongue passed over the head of his cock.
"Uh...the question isn't will I, but CAN I, with that kind of stuff going on."
"Going down," she corrected, licking and fondling. "You've got to get with it. Havent you noticed that people are saying "Whass goin' down' these days, instead of 'What's goin' on?'"
"Uh...yeah. But...I know what's going down. Or rather who."
In the darkness that made her totally invisible, she giggled and shoved her mouth halfway down his cock. In a long, lingering glide, she slid her soft ovaled lip-sheath back up the tumid stalk. Her mouth came off with a sucking pop sound.
"All right, smarty," she said, "have it your way then. Now-do I get to do this my way? Will you be absolutely still? I want you to just be done, Clay. Without touching me, or anything; just lie there and enjoy."
"I promise."
She tickled his ass-hole. "Lift your legs, sweetheart.. . "
He brought his knees up and his eyelids down; he couldn't see anything anyhow. If he was to lie here and be pure object, he might as well shut out everything and concentrate on pure tactile sensation. Be nice if I could be deaf for a few minutes, he thought, then grunted and twitched.
After quite a bit of moving around down at the end of the bed, the darting, flicking wet softness of a tongue began teasing and titillating the crown of his burgeoning penis. Keeping his hands still, quivering a little at the wonderful feeling of loving, licking, lapping tongue on his appreciative organ, he lay there and thought about Alison's tits.
The sweetly ardent tongue lapped his cock, and he thought about Melanie's ass.
Prehensile tongue flashed over the silky surface of his cockhead, and he groaned aloud. Wet lips nuzzled brazenly, and he thought about the lasciviously fascinating, tied up package of Debbie. And his cock up her wet slurpy vagina.
Long wet tongue stabbed lecherously at his balls, making him grunt while they licked over the swollen flesh-pouch.
He thought about nothing but Alison's mouth. "God DAMN! Oh baby that's GOOD!" he cried enthusiastically into the darkness. His hands moved, but not to his loving cock-licker. He began messing around with his own nipples.
Slowly, with torturous lack of hurry, widely ovaled lips began slipping down over the huge bulbous knob tipping his cock, down and down the long thick vein-pulsing shaft. He trembled and grabbed his chest with both hands; this was the longest, most exciting entry of his cock into a mouth that he had ever experienced. She was turned on and anxious to see only to his pleasure tonight.
Maybe site's a little nervous, the supine man thought, and grinned into the darkness. Maybe she's had reports by now-and knows how happy both her sisters, her mother, her maid, and her, uh, tenant are with that thing between my legs she calls a baseball bat I
Male ego soared. Male cock was sweetly, beautifully sucked. Up and down, with tantalizing patient slowness, glided that wet lip-furling cock-sucking mouth. He groaned aloud in carnal ecstasy. The steady bobbing of that busy head and the soft sucking sensations were moving him toward a helpless erotic frenzy.
"Christ you're good I Oh, oh darling! Oh shit-I'm going to come like a-an antiaircraft gun!"
The cock-loving mouth that fed on his prick and fed his enthusiasm was busy, and stuffed full anyhow, and made no reply.
His ass writhed sensually, helplessly. The tendons corded along the inner surfaces of his thighs. He began moving helplessly, shoving his joint into wet wide-split mouth, splaying soft supple lips. Helplessly, though he had little leverage lying this way on his back, he pushed with his lust-drenched loins, swiveling his hips to gorge cocksucking face on the entire length of his penis, a swollen rod of fleshy throbbing rigidity.
The stepping up of the powerful oral suction brought a groan jerking up from his throat and he slapped his hands down to grab the sheet. Fingertips prodded coaxingly at his testicles. They blew up. Groaning and gasping, he sent what felt like a gallon of come spewing up wriggly tongue and down steadily swallowing throat.
Then he sagged, trying to let the mattress swallow him, spent and happy and gasping.
Clay squinched his eyes tight shut when the lights came on, but as soon as he cracked them, he opened wide and stared.
On the foot of the bed, between his widespread legs and still licking his lips, was Sexton! Clay's staring gaze went from the man to Alison, who stood, beautifully naked and white and tiny-waisted, by the light switch.
"I'm glad you liked it and were so vociferous about liking it, darling," Alison said, ambling nakedly back to the bed. "Both Daddy and Edmund have said that Sexton gives better head than any of us."
Clay's mouth opened but he said nothing.
Alison only smiled. Clay didn't know whether to be pissed or silent, grateful or angry at having been tricked. There was no way he could deny his enjoyment of being sucked off by the butler-he'd said it was great, loud and clear! If he made any noises now to the contrary, he'd come off as a bigot.
How can being heterosexual be bigotry! he demanded of himself.
And he answered just as silently: If you blow your dummy stack now and let'em know you're horrified because it was a man's mouth on your dick, that's how. You'd never have allowed it, had you been able to see. As it is...Clay my boy, Sexton dug it and so did you !
"Beg pardon, sir," the naked butler said, kneeling up so that the pink hard-on bobbed around before his skinny body. "But I am in dire need of relief!"
Clay didn't quite chuckle. But he kept his voice from sounding angry, which he thought was quite an accomplishment. "Well, don't look at me, Sexton, I'm afraid cocksucking isn't my bag!"
Standing over both men, Alison touched the butler on his bony shoulder. "Come along, Sexton, relief is just around the corner."
Clay bit his lip and dragged his gaze away from Sexton's mouth. The damned thing didn't look sweet and soft!
Sexton started to back off the bed. And there stood Alison, Clay's woman, all ready to take the butler off and get him off. Clay's brain worked madly. A lot of relays had clicked over in there in the past few days. His sexual education had doubled, trebled, quintupled. He had accepted one new revelation and situation after another. He was smugly proud of the way he had been so cool and walked in to join Alison and her mother, last night.
Sexton stood up. Alison smiled down at his prick. Both of them turned. Clay stared at the tiny male butt atop its skinny thighs, at the beautiful rounded white ass beside it, on Alison's superbly round thighs, like a couple of columns of marble coated with white silk.
They were going to go somewhere else, and fuck.
The dam' skinny butler, Clay thought trembling, had sucked him off, and now he was going to go off and ball Clay's woman. It was the way of the Spencers. All into one and one into all. Father and mother, son and three daughters, maid and butler, and, Clay supposed, gardener and wife. All ten of them. The ten musketeers. And...Clay McConnel. The Outsider.
These goddam fuckin' people are Crazy!
Another part of his brain replied: Maybe. They also have a lot of fun. They make ole Giacomo Casanova look like an uptight Victorian!
Alison and Sexton started toward the door.
Another relay clicked over inside Clay's head, and his brain shot forward in a new gear. He jerked himself up into a sitting position.
"Hey, you two!"
Sexton and Alison froze, slowly turned to look back at the naked man on the bed.
"Wait a minute!" Clay snapped. His eyes glittered. He licked his lips. "Come back here. Stay right here. Go ahead, you two...while I watch my future bride get herself fucked!"
With a joyous, sunshiny smile and a little throaty cry, Alison came running back to him. Her arms whipped around him as she plopped down on the side of the bed.
"Oh darling! Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. I want to see."
"Ummmm!" She pressed her nakedness strongly against him, straining to him, kissing and pressing hard. He felt very proud. And a mite crazy.
Crazy or not, Clayton McConnel was soon seated in a chair, idly messing with his own limp pecker, while he watched the woman he planned to marry get cunt-stuffed by the family's long, skinny, old butler.
And it was fascinating. Titillating. Marvelously obscene. Surely evil. Completely amoral.
Also fun, and sexy as all hell.
Under the lightweight man, Alison had a great deal more freedom of movement. The consummately nubile brunette twitched and hunched and lurched, back and forth and sideways.
Gripping each other tightly, deeply hollowing, Sexton's buttocks rose and fell, rose and fell. She moved too, rocking him in the cozy cradle of her loins, his body looking frail to the watching Clay as the butler was ensconced in the white meat of the girl's thighs, while he sank his lust-dilated bat in deep to churn her juices.
They flowed and flowed. Clay was able to see that. He could see Sexton's long, pendulous balls slapping in it, too, and slapping at the very bottom curves of the woman's partially upturned ass-cheeks.
The horny servant's body wallowed happily over that white and baby-pink skin with stormy lustful force. Clay watched thighs like soft lithe velvet rise on either side of the humping man, watched her feet thrust down on those tiny buttocks, trying to force him deeper into her. He watched while the other man rose and fell hard, socking his cock in and out of the far younger woman's scalding clutch with all his might. His ass wiggled, two little oval pads perched between his long narrow back and long shank-like legs. The steady impacts of his crotch against hers sent the sighing brunette into wild activity, sent her full naked tits into a violent paroxysm of movement. Hot juices poured from her, practically spurting, to coat her quivery thighs and darken the sheet under the man's long rumply ball-sac.
Playing with his cock to no purpose, Clay watched.
Male body was pounding the superlatively female body of his woman. And he watched. And he loved it.
With every out-stroke, his cock came slurping forth so that Clay could see its thick redness, dripping with her fluids. Then it tucked away again, vanishing into the sucking hot pudding of her vagina.
The man was pounding her in a wild surge of hyper activity, with all the strength he could muster.
The constant undulations of her pneumatic hips ensured her getting the entire hot length of his pulsing cock-which she could feel, pulsing away inside her. A great groan erupted from deep in his bony, perspiration-flecked chest and he ground in to sink his prick deep, as deep as his little grinding ass-cheeks could power it.
Clay watched the older man swerve his hips to fill her up, to twist flailing organ inside the girl's flesh. His long bony body ground over her soft curves while the broad knob of his deep-seated prick frictioned against quaking, flinching cuntal walls like watered silk.
With all his strength he hammered her writhing body, bouncing hard and fucking hard, and her mounded tits bounced and jiggled every time his body slapped onto hers.
Give it to her, Sexton, old sexy Sexton, Clay urged mentally. Sock it to her, man, cock it to her! Make her squirm and whimper and beg and make her commme! Go to town, you horny cocksucker!"
"HUNNNNHHH!" she grunt-groaned, when Sexton knelt up, hoisted her legs, and really gored into her.
Then he was groaning, too, and really clamping his ass-cheeks together to strain in, and Clay knew he was watching another man spew hot seminal fluids into the woman he meant to marry.
A few minutes later Sexton, having come, went.
A few minutes after that, having kissed and fondled Clay and told him how exciting it was to have him watch while she was screwed, rose and started for the door.
"Where you going?"
She turned back. "My room."
He got up, walked toward her and around her. Taking up a stance between the blue-robed brunette and the door to his room, he folded his arm.
"No you aren't. That's a bullshit charade. You're staying here."
She smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
"I didn't. Drag ass in the bathroom and get Sexton's scum out of your pussy."
"Yowzah!" Smiling, she went trippily to the bathroom.
"And leave that dam' robe in there," he called after her. Then he went over to flip on the bedside lamp, after which he returned to shut off the bright overhead light. Make yourself at home, he thought, and he put on his robe and went downstairs. He raided the refrigerator for a hunk of roast beef and two diminutive bottles of golden Miller's.
He was sitting in the chair, facing the bedroom door and sipping beer, when she emerged. With a sudden bright smile, she struck a pose. She was naked. Clay shook his head.
"Jesus. What a fertility goddess! You look like an old-time idealized statue, all tits and hips and no waist at all."
She grinned, wagged her hips, clamped her hands on either side of her waist just above those flaring hips, and pressed. Her fingertips nearly touched.
"Glad you like the body, sweetheart."
"I love the body. I love the woman. Want a beer."
"No thanks."
"Good. I feel like drinking 'em both. I think I feel a silly question coming on, but...does everybody make it with everyone else here?"
Alison nodded.
"Everybody'! With everybody? Every-body?"
She swayed over to his chair, a mobile fertility goddess, done in pink and white with black furry decorations on top and in the middle. "Yes," she said. "Does that shake you up?"
"Sure," he said, sounding anything but shaken. "I hadn't expected anything like this...this sex-ridden household!"
She seemed to flow down to her knees beside his chair. She leaned on his thigh. Blue eyes looked up at him. "But you're into it, Clay-you're worthy of the family! According to our count, you've come seven times in-" She paused to check her watch, which was all she wore. "Seven times in the past thirty-one hours!"
He wrapped a cold hand around a large ivory and carnation tit.
"So you've all been checking, and comparing notes, huh? I ought to be pissed-off, you know."
She looked sad. "What can I do to make Master unpissed-off?"
"Come around here between my legs and give me your mouth. Let's see if we can't make it eight times in thirty-two hours!"
CHAPTER NINE
Clay was happy and proud, almost smugly proud of himself. He assumed he had passed the last test the Spencer family had to offer. He had been sucked off by a man, and he had watched while that same man balled Alison.
He was mistaken. There were lots more things he had never done!
It was in late afternoon, for instance, when he discovered Monica getting it from her father. Clay entered, and soon he and Brian were screwing Brian's divorced daughter simultaneously. That seemed wild enough to Clay...until Alison and Alexandra showed up. The two used their mouths to "clean up" all three of the others. A participant while father fucked daughter, Clay now watched mother suck daughter, daughter suck and lick father, sister lick and suck sister. After that mini-orgy, he and Brian each sported a new hard-on.
The two men decided to keep them, and went out for a horseback ride. No, nothing sexual came of it. Brian and Clay both drew the line at horses-and at each other.
When they returned to the barn, they both helped Tony tie up his naked wife. The idea was to make a hemp-wrapped mummy of the delighted blonde.
The girl stood passive and bright of eye while the three men wound strand after strand of thin, cutting cord beneath the bulges of her breasts-the nipples of which, along with the aureoles, had been painted blue with water-color marking pen-and about her elbows. Her arms were pinned to her quivering sides so snugly that she could hardly draw breath.
Each breath she took, the bondage-loving young woman told them, was an icy little pain. And each new cinching of the binding cord was a reminder that she was being taken farther and farther from freedom.
She loved it.
The blonde watched, pressing her chin into her neck to look down, while the three silent men circled her body with the supple cords and drew each new coil tight, carefully and thoroughly tight. Her "captors" were frighteningly efficient, and so very neat about cocooning her with strand after strand of hempen cord I
She stood submissively silent and accepting, her pretty little knees unsteady and tremorous, while the three men, with a pretense of brutality and callousness, continued the business of rendering her totally powerless in every limb and muscle. A series of knots molded her elbows and torso efficiently and immovably together.
Debbie's strained breathing tried to fight against the constriction about her middle. Clay remembered that she was accustomed to corsetry. Any woman on these premises could take a lot more stringent binding than any average or "normal" woman elsewhere.
The men had even put on her, not without difficulty, the tight gloves and hose of shining black latex. The gloves were without fingers and rose nearly to her shoulders, while the opera-length hose clung so tightly to her thighs less than an inch below her. vulva that the white thigh flesh bulged.
Hose and gloves protected her skin from the hempen harshness of the rope.
Maintaining their silence, the three men went to work on her gloved wrists. Each wrist was looped with wickedly tight strands around which even the latex, like a second skin, bulged.
The gloves were hot and tight, Debbie admitted when prompted, and they cramped her as well. But she was grateful for their protective coating.
Clay watched fascinated while Tony circled his wife's fingers with slim cord, then pulled it in taut and drew it around her fingers with good tugs. Each time the rope circled a finger it was looped again, and pulled tight. Tony stepped back, flexing his fingers, while Brian attached the finger-binding cord to the other vehemently tight ropes that compressed the young woman's body and arms.
Working almost leisurely, the three men had been at their task for fifteen minutes, and they had made the quivering blonde unconditionally helpless. It wasn't just that she was unable to move her arms...she could not move her hands. The voluntary victim was roped so tightly that even moving her body was painfully difficult. She didn't try. She was comfortable, in the security of voluntary bondage. "UH-umgh-ohhh.. . "
"Oh lord. I don't want to have to listen to her silly groans and kitten whimpers!" Tony said.
Carefully, the immobile girl was lowered to her knees. Brian and Clay stood by with growing ' erections while Tony fucked his wife in the head.
Hunching with rippling, supple hips, the dark young man rammed hard swelling rod into her pretty face. Then kneeling, helplessly bound blonde made no objection, but accepted her face full of cock happily. The watchers saw him quiver, knew the curly-haired brunet was feeling her serpentine tongue, twisting and writhing provocatively over his trembling male staff.
He had to hold her head with both hands, fingers twining interestingly in the pale tresses of her wavy, cloud-fleecy hair, to prevent her from being knocked over.
The big thing he shoved at her with his lithe hips was hot in her mouth, and hugely swollen so that it strained her jaws.
Helplessly bound and kneeling, held in place and face-fucked, the girl's mouth was full of hot cock. So tightly were her arms bound to her body that their upper reaches cramped her breasts, which were quite naked save for their pretty blue enhancement. They were crammed together in front of her, forced to jut.
It was over those trembling tits that Tony poured his semen, while she licked her lips and moaned sorrowfully for the creamy essence she was not getting down her gullet.
Then Tony gagged her with what Clay learned had been a birthday present from Brian-to Debbie, not Tony. There was a round rubber ball, attached to the center of a strap of black leather, with a buckle. The ball went into her mouth. The strap encircled her head, and buckled. She was gagged, unable to make more than the tiniest of kitten-sounds.
They raised her to her feet, with the semen hardening on her jiggly tits. They roped her legs, at mid-thigh, above the knees, immediately below the knees, and at ankles.
The three stepped back, smiling. They looked at the voluntary victim. She was motionless; the girl dared not so much as attempt a movement. It was quite impossible for her to attempt the slightest act without losing her balance and toppling to the floor.
All three of them carried her to the couch in the warm little nest she and Tony shared, in part of the estate's second barn. They stretched her out. With one of her own elastic headbands, a scintillant royal blue, Tony blindfolded her.
She was rendered totally immobile, silent, and sightless.
"Thank you," Tony told the two men. He clamped a hand roughly on one of his wife's tits-she twitched-then he released it. "If you are grateful, too, wiggle your toes, Deb."
Ten toes wiggled. Tony smiled. Brian and Clay left, and walked up to the big house.
"What'll he do?" Clay asked. "How long will she stay that way?"
Brian shrugged. "She loves it, you do know that?"
Clay nodded.
"He'll leave her bound-and gagged and blindfolded-for hours," Brian said. "Not all night this time, she's too tightly bound. Their lovemaking tonight will be a semblance of rape. She's wild about that."
Clay considered that information in silence.
"You should know, Clay, that bondage is very, very sexy indeed to a lot of women-and to some men, too. And you should remember that the women here, my wife, my daughters-are accustomed to a form of bondage: the corset. I think Alison will both want and need it, now and again. Alexandra does. She tells me, when she wants to be totally helpless. It's exciting to me to be told, asked, and it's a turn-on to her, too, because it's hard for her, and thus thrilling."
Clay assimilated the new sexual knowledge, added it to the growing file in the memory banks of his mind. They were getting stuffed.
Dinner that evening was both tasteful and quite normal. Clay had an after-dinner brandy with Brian and Monica, and was soon quite sleepy.
When he awoke, about 3 am, it took him quite awhile to realize what had happened. Someone must have dropped a sleeping pill into his brandy! And now...he was tied up!
Shackled, actually. Simply, easily, without pain and without much discomfort, a leather bracelet circled each of his wrists, and was attached to the other. He was far from motionless, as he and Brian and Tony had left Debbie that afternoon. But he was denied any use of his hands. His ankles were shackled in precisely the same way.
"For God's sake!"
Alexandra chuckled at his first waking words.
Yes, Alexandra. And it must have taken her a lot of time and trouble-and a lot of powder-to get into what she was wearing. It was a sleeveless pullover of shining black latex, covering her from mid-thigh--and mid-buttock--to the high, round neck. There was no snap crotch. The thin black rubber was pulled so tightly up into her crotch that Clay could see the separation of her pussylips.
Though the garment was sleeveless and legless, her limbs were not bare. They, too, were sheathed in black; high stockings of latex on her legs, high gloves of supple, black kidskin leather on her arms and hands. Her hair was piled on her head, coiled and coiffed and pearl-strewn. Drop earrings caught the light, moving with her every action. They were Siamese, black surrounded and etched with gold, and their shape was what was called teardrop. With her outfit, Clay thought, the eardrops were definitely cunt-shaped!
"God you're beautiful. Sexy-Super sexy!" he told her. He writhed, tugging each wrist against the other. There was no result.
Standing over him, she smiled. The coils and strands of her piled raven hair gleamed under the bright overhead light, in lustrous highlights. She was a thoroughly enchanting seductress, her middle cinched in and her large bouffant breasts puffed up and out in huge ripe spheroids with broad round bases and pointed ends, like strange overripe black fruits.
Alexandra said nothing.
"Do I have to be tied like this?"
"You aren't tied, you're shackled. And yes, you do. You've been endangering your health, engaging in entirely too much sexual activity around here. Tonight you'll have to make do with the single man's friend."
"What?"
She looked down at him, one eyebrow lifted, a big black-clad woman who had not looked so imperious, so regal before. The transformation was blatant, bemazing and intriguing.
"You had also better be quiet, Clay, or I'll have to gag you."
"Wha-a-att?"
She flashed him a smile.
Then she sat down on the bed beside him. His bed. With the bright overhead lights on, the latex rippling and flashing on her large magnificently proportioned body. His girl's mother. His host's wife. A woman, he had learned with something akin to disbelief, who was forty-four years old. It showed only on the backs of her hands and around her eyes.
And she began to lick and chew and tug at his nipples, worrying them, sending sensual fire mingled with some pain through him, until he was moaning and twitching, twitching, trying to tear his hands loose so he could get them on her, destroy the latex because there wouldn't be time to take it off carefully, and sink his cock up her black-fleeced pussy.
No way. He was her prisoner.
His nipples were prisoners of her mouth.
She licked them, she sucked them, she tongued and toothed and lipped them, for many maddening minutes.
"Huh!" he gasped, when without lifting her face from his chest, which he was fast discovering was very sensuously sensitive indeed, she slipped a leather-clad hand onto his genitals.
Her hand played over it for many minutes. Cool, smoothly kidskinned fingers fondled the dangling sac of sex-swollen flesh under his cock, twiddled tormentingly over its hot head, all slimy and glistening as it hopefully oozed slick lubricative sauce. Leather-clad palm rubbed up and down the base, the underside of his prick, stroking the veins and the big sperm tube that looked so like a vein but carried so different a fluid from the red juice of life.
"A prick like a baseball bat," she murmured around his nipple, and raised her head long enough to pluck a hair from between her teeth.
"Jesus, Alexandra!"
"Christ, Clay," she answered, and sucked his other nipple.
A leather hand, cool and softly supple, closed around his cock.
A thrill of excitement swelled all through him as his stiff prick bobbed inside the tight, hot tunnel formed by her fist. Bitch! It was a clinging sheath that moved steadily, up and back, like a living cunt. Bitch! What the hell!
Creeping, mounting internal heat and sheer lust made him bite back a heavy groan. His legs twitched. Tendons stood out against the bare skin. He gritted his teeth, tugged at his bonds. They did not yield. They were simple, not even tight, but effective. He could not pluck loose the three links of little chain and the spring-clip connecting his wrists. His bonds did not yield.
Her caress of his supple sex pole exerted a magical, heady influence that took the form of an itchy tightening and quiver in his balls. Blood pounded through the whole genital package. The bloated, shining head of his cock drooled more sap. That big head topping his upstanding male meat was a lurid, angrily crimson bloom every time it appeared at the end of her black leather fist.
She lifted her head from his wet chest, looked at the sturdy rod she played so sensuously with.
"It's so marvelously big," the big woman said in a soft, entranced voice. "And so hard!"
With a renewed groan, he surged his penile pole into her containing hand, a vise of leather, Plum-like cock-crown bloomed even more.
Sweet slut, he thought in an agony of lust and the futile feeling of helplessness to aid or interfere, it loves your damned leather-sheathed jacking hand!
"Shall I just keep on until it squirts, darling?" she asked casually, her other hand slipping down to administer a teasing squeeze to his nut-sack.
He groaned.
Tonight, she had said, you'll have to make do with a single man's friend. By that she meant hand, he was sure, what a single and shy friend of his called his "wife." She meant to jack him off, whether he said no or yes. He said nothing, but gritted his teeth.
She jacked him off.
By the time she finished that long jacking off, fierce pains like little knives were shooting through his crotch.
Then it was his big throbbing dick that was shooting.
She made no attempt to catch it in her mouth. Directing the spurts, watching them with bright eyes, Alexandra directed them onto his own naked belly; one ejaculatory blast shot as far as his chest.
She released his tingling cock, patted it. Then she bent and kissed him. And she left.
He lay there shackled hand and foot, and waited. His semen dried on his belly, or filmed over in the case of the one large puddly blob that had collected around his navel. Nothing happened. No one came.
Clay was drifting away into sleep when the door opened and a black negligee'd Mary came in. Without a word she knelt on the bed and began lapping at him.
The silent, sexy maid licked up and swallowed, loudly, every last trace of his semen.
Then she released him. And with a smile, she turned and walked to the door.
Though he was a bit stiff, Clay was able to move, to use his hands and legs. His desperate resolution loaned him more strength, and speed, and flexibility of long immobilized limbs. Running on naked feet, he caught her just at the door. Flung her back into the room. Turned off the light.
She didn't cry out; she giggled when he pounced on her and bore her back onto the bed. The tormented man fastened his mouth on her tits, and began sucking hard, as well as chewing at ever growing nipples.
He fell asleep eating Mary's tits.
At about five-thirty in the morning, she awoke him, accidentally. She was creeping out of the room. Again, he caught her at the door.
As he bore her down, she whispered.
"Madam asked me to tell you that if you did not enjoy what you endured tonight, you are welcome to turn the tables. You can-OW! Oh Mister Cla-ay-must it be there?"
"YES!"
"Oh-oh dear Saint Teresa...Gahhh! You're so BIG!"
"It's about half piss-hard, Mary. And-it-seems to-fit-up your-pretty, sassy-assssssss!"
It did. In a few seconds she was moaning in pleasure. Her rectum opened up, and he pummeled it with cock. Nor did he stop until he had given her an ass-full of seminal enema. Only then did Clay stagger back to bed. He slept until eleven-fifteen, which was when Alison woke him, sucking softly between his legs.
CHAPTER TEN
Clay did not avail himself of the offer to turn the tables on Alexandra. He didn't know if she was disappointed or not. He didn't care. As a matter-of-fact, on the day after she had jacked off the bound young man, he did not emerge from his room. Neither did Alison. Fucked out by ten pm, having pumped out more orgasms in one day than ever in his life in such a short time, he slept the clock around.
Alison never made objection or complaint, though she walked carefully for several days thereafter. She did tell him, later, that he had taken her cherry; the warm clasping ass-hole he had invaded late in the afternoon of that day-the fourth time his cock had run up her-had never been opened by a man.
That was nice, he told her.
He learned that her younger sister was a virgin, too. (He also learned that she was a liar-she was sixteen, not seventeen, and she'd been twelve, not eleven, when her brother Edmund first breached her ass.) Melanie was a virgin in reverse of her sister. Buggered more times than she could hope to count, she had preserved the hit of skin in her vagina that branded her virgin, despite the open condition of her anus.
"She's a pervert," Monica said, the night she and Clay played, out in the barn, with Tony's bound wife.
That broke Clay up.
After a while he asked, "Because she-likes it in the back, Monny?"
"Because she insists on preserving her silly hymen! There's nothing wrong with buggery. Hey-I've got a thought. How about if I make a suggestion?"
Clay agreed.
Monica explained. She would turn the bound Debbie up, here on the floor of her own cozy little apartment in the former barn. The lights would be turned off. Clay would come over when Monica invited. Debbie would be on her hands and knees, ass up. Clay was not to touch her. Monica would be seated astride the girl's back, facing rearward. She would hold Debbie's pretty, round cheeks open. The idea was for Clay to fuck Debbie's ass-hole without ever touching her; instead, he would have Monica's bare tits to occupy his hands.
He agreed.
Debbie liked the idea, too, but with her hands tied and the gag in, she wasn't able to say much, or hope to participate other than as an object, an open hole.
Monica carried the concept further, making a little scenario. Debbie was her virgin roommate, and she was tricking her. She'd get her bound, and in position, the shrinking little virgin. Then, with the room very dark, she'd sneak over and call in Clay, who would be waiting outside.
"OK," Clay said, and went outside.
He waited, thinking. He had a lot to think about, these days. And nights. For one thing, he'd have to be going back to town, back to work. That was going to be hard! , Then Monica opened the door and hissed. "Pssst! Psst-hey you, Mister anal rapist. Come on in-the virgin victim is prepared on the altar. Get that sacrificial knife of yours out and up and bring it in here!"
Grinning, he went into the dark room and let Monica lead him to where the "sacrificial victim" knelt on the carpet. Monica told him when she was astride; he reached out in the darkness and found her bare breasts.
Monica reached out in the darkness and found his cock, which was high and hard. She commented that, while she guided it forward between an upturned pair of nice warm, round buttocks. When his glans pressed against the hot little pit, she released his staff, and used her hands to peel the cheeks well back on either side of it.
Slowly, clinging to Monica's tits, Clay pushed his cock into that reluctant rectal entry. He felt the grip of straining, muscular anal ring, the radiant heat from within that colonic canal.
He kept pushing, ever slowly, until he was over halfway inside. Debbie hadn't made a sound. He assumed Monica had left the bondage-loving blonde gagged. Holding his prick in place, he toyed with Monica's nipples, making her moan and gasp.
Then he pulled his cock out, slowly, sent it in again, slowly. This time he sank it a little deeper in that invisible anal fissure. And held it, while he cupped Monica's equally invisible tits from beneath and jiggled them up and down. And again he pulled his cock back, and back, and let it slide slowly back in again.
The third time he repeated that gentle enculade, the way was smooth and clear and easy, and he sank in every long thick inch of his prick.
"She has it all," he said quietly. "God, but it feels good!"
"Lovely," Monica murmured. "Squeeze, will you?"
He heard some little juicy sounds. "While you diddle yourself?"
There was a smile in her voice: "Yes!"
With his cock deeply ass-encapsulated, his fingers traced over the curving sides of Monica's tits, "seeing" the smooth, plump struts in the darkness with his hands, which he let creep beneath to cup their bulging under hang.
A little wiggle of his hips made his prick move about in its hot, clasping prison. He began tightening his hands, fingers sinking into titsy flesh-balls, ever tightening about those sumptuously rounded gourds.
Monica sat wide-legged and jiggled her clit while Clay hung onto her Spencer-big tits, and snapped his pelvis back and forth, back and forth. He plugged clasping-tail hole with long, thick cock and squirmed his hips to dilate the tight canal to its limits. Invisible in the darkness of the room, all lights off and the drapes pulled tightly together, his face wore an expression of carnal craving as he punched in, and in.
Overpowering sensations of bliss swelled up deep within his lust-wracked body. He listened to the sounds of cock into ass, ever juicier ass, and fingers slopping about in an even juicier cunt, and to Monica's grunts and moans as she tossed herself off, and he surged and ground in.
Now he was lewdly plowing with his broad club of flesh, burying it up tight distended back-hole. Tightly clinging membranes seemed to be scalding his sexual staff with intense inner heat. Groaning, his hips bucking and writhing, he rocked rhythmically back and forth against trembling buttocks, up their fiery central slot and back.
"Uh-uggggghhhhhhh," Monica grunted, a long drawn-out sound, trembling with emotion as she came.
As if her orgasm were a signal, Clay's cock swelled still more seeming to be gathering itself like a predatory beast.
The contents of his balls exploded up a suddenly quivering, jerking ass, spewing out of him into the hot anal chamber. He groaned aloud and ground in.
It was when half-erect tool was just plopping noisily out of steamy, semen-packed ass-hole that the pair of hands slid around him from behind, and a pair of hot round tits crushed themselves against his back.
Monica switched on the lights, grinning.
Behind Clay and pressed against him was Debbie, crooning and sighing, rubbing her vulva against his bare butt. And before him knelt her naked husband.
"Son of a bitch," Clay said.
Monica laughed, a clear happy sound, not a triumphant laugh at all. "Tricked again," she said. Clay had little time to think about what he'd just been tricked into doing. He was soon enthralled, watching sexy little blonde Debbie on her hands and knees behind her husband, sucking Clay's semen out of Tony's anus.
Monica accompanied him up to the house, and spent the night with him.
In the morning Alexandra came in, and then Alison, and then Edmund, and a little later, Melanie also joined them. The bed became very crowded. Clay had two fingers of each hand thrust up a juicy wet slippery cunt. A mouth worked on his cock. For all he knew, it was Edmund's mouth, and Clay found that he didn't give a damn. Alexandra's tits hung over his face, with her kneeling behind him while she used both hands on his nipples. He sucked and tongue-lashed her swollen fat red nipples.
He was never sure who had mouthed his cock.
Monica sat on it and jogged up and down for awhile.
Then Alison took her place.
Then Melanie did, and Clay was amazed at the youngster's ability to shove her lovely hot little ass-hole down the big upward spearing staff of his groin. After a time, Alexandra took her place, and Clay saw that Monica and Alison were curled and coiled in a very pretty 69 while Melanie was on her knees sucking her big brother's prick-with one of Alison's fingers up her back hole.
"I feel like a-an OUTSIDER!" Clay practically shouted. "I'm the only non-family person here!"
Sex was temporarily sidetracked while everyone laughed. Then they began again.
That evening there was the official announcement. Clay had to go back to town and that damned, dull office. Alison had to begin the new semester. And-next weekend, on Saturday night officially, was the once-a-mouth Spencer Orgy Night.
"Jesus Christ! Clay McConnel burst out. "An orgy-what the hell have we BEEN doing?"
Once again, he had broken them all up.
Much later that evening, Brian laid a hand on Clay's shoulder.
"My daughter has just advised me that she damned well intends to spend the week with you."
"Great," Clay said, though Alison hadn't mentioned it to him. He supposed that was part of the strange code of the Spencers; she had first cleared with her parents her intention of moving in with him. He supposed she'd broach the subject to him tomorrow morning, on their way back to the city.
"I agreed to her sinful desires," Brian said, with a little smile.
"I'm glad," Clay told him. "After this fantastic vacation, the week to come is going to be a bitch! Alison's being there with me will make it...bearable."
Brian nodded, still smiling. Then his face went serious.
"I see no reason for her to have to come home Wednesday as usual, unless she wants to, Clay. You know now that this visit with us was a test-of you. We aren't like other people."
Clay grinned broadly at that. It was like saying horses had manes, or sugar was sweet.
"Any of us would be miserable with...normal people. Monica tried. She was in love, or whatever it was. But she couldn't stand it."
"So you've been testing me to see if I was a fit husband for Alison."
"That's right," Brian said, without the hint of apology. "And we're all delighted with you. You passed with flying...cock. Alison belongs with a man like you-with you. You belong with her. And with us, Clay."
Clay didn't say thanks. He had mixed emotions about being tested, without his knowing until the test was under way, and about the tricks that had been played on him.
Brian's hand had come back onto his shoulder again, and the man's face had once more gone all serious. Clay knew he was about to get something heavy laid on him.
"So-as I said, Alison needn't come home, Wednesday night, as she has every Wednesday night of her college years. Take care of her, Clay. The corset is to come off after dinner, and she's to take a long bath and be well massaged. She'll wash the corset. And it's to be laced on her again before she leaves for classes on Thursday morning."
Clay felt no mirth-but he was aware of a surge of emotion.
My God, he thought in elation and with a deep growing sense of responsibility, it's the same as if a medieval lord were handing over the key to his daughter's chastity beltl
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clay and Alison drove back to town together on Monday. There was no time to do anything about her moving into his place-which she brought up during the automobile ride. Both of them had to scuttle, when they reached the city. Instead of going home as usual that evening, though, he went over to her place. Her parents financed a little apartment; it would not do for her to share one, or live in the women's dorm, with her...unusual undergarment.
They talked a lot Monday night, got to bed late, messed with each other, kissing and fondling, and went to sleep without any further sexual activity. The following evening she sucked him off before dinner, which she insisted on preparing. Much later, in bed, he used his hand on her breasts and the other at her clitoris to bring her off.
He really looked forward to Wednesday night, and the ritualistic removal of her corset.
There was nothing particularly sexy about standing behind a woman and untying, then unlacing and removing her torso-sheath of black latex. But it was enormously sexy, because he had looked forward to it and thought it was sexy.
His hands were actually trembling so that getting those final laces out wasn't easy, and he cursed. Alison didn't know why. Nervously she thought perhaps that the whole business was a put-off to Clay-until she felt the hot length of cock against her buttocks. It was a massive, burning hot thing, jerking back and forth, pulsing vibratorily like an overheated engine in danger of cracking its own block.
With a happy little chuckle, Alison poked her naked rump back against that huge hunk of hot meat.
"Ahhhhhhh," she sighed, as the corset went completely loose; he had drawn the rawhide lace completely free, and only her hands held the latex body shaper in place, loosely. Then: "Say, man...what's that branding iron you've got back there? I think it's going to burn a mark into my bottom..."
"I'll show you what it is!" he said hoarsely, quivering, and started to ram it at her.
Trembling and making happy little cooing sounds, his woman turned. Letting the waist-cincher drop to the floor, she went to her knees. Her hands scooped up his great hairy balls while her open mouth shot out to capture the hugely swollen cock that thrust out from him like a ripe, succulent banana, except for its deeply pink color.
"HUHHH!" he grunted, when her mouth slid halfway down that hot needy shank.
Her hand fondled his nuts lovingly. Her unbearably teasing mouth coursed with wet ardor up and down the soft-skinned but rock-hard pole, in a way that brought little moans and gasps of involuntary lust from his open mouth.
Boiling spasms of lubricious desire raced heatedly, wildly throughout his trembling body.
He was already aflame with carnal want. Now, the moist pressures of her pumping mouth...the flickering teasing touches of her tongue...her gentle fingers tweaking his balls...all combined to drive his lust up to a furious tempo of throbbing need.
He stared hotly down at her, trembling, watching the lewdly pleasureful way she slid her wet mouth up and down the length of his thick, pulsating cock.
She seemed madly in love with it, sucking on the timid stick with furious energy, flailing it with her flicking tongue until he wanted to yell in rapturous agony.
He shot off all too fast; his excitement was at far too high a peak for him to be able to control himself. She swallowed and swallowed, and when he drew her up from his emptied penis he made sure he gave her a kiss on her cocksucking, beloved mouth.
"Whew! You really got turned on, lover."
"I did! You know it...I'm not even sure why. It was one hell of a turn-on."
She smiled, holding onto his hips. "I hope it always is, Clay!"
"Came like a kid," he said, "in no time."
"I loved it. Just knowing you're so excited-and because of me-excites me. Fro glad you came so fast. We have lots of comes ahead of us, darling."
"Yeah I" he said, letting his mind dwell on that "Oh-hey, you better go take that long soak, and wash the corset huh." He bent, picked up the collapsed hunk of bonded rubber, and handed it to her.
He sat while she was in the bathroom, and thought and thought. Man oh man! What a life they were going to have together.
For the first time then, the first time since Sunday, he thought about the orgy scheduled for this weekend, out at her parents' house. He was amazed at his own reaction: he shrugged. Who needs it? I've got Alison!
He had Alison. And next morning he laced her into the shaping sheath of latex again, and that was sexy, too. She had urged him to make sure it was tight; he made it tight, all right. She left the apartment very erect, though not stiff.
All his sexual thoughts didn't interfere with his work. There was plenty of it that day, and he got into it quickly. A plant accident had brought in a goodly number of claims from the same group insurance policy, and the whole thing was handed to Clay. He was glad, much later when he thought about it. He had been submerged in work all day, and had enjoyed it. Had there not been so much to do, he knew, he'd have gone halfway up the wall!
He got home before she did, and remembered only then her late class on Thursdays. Swell. He fixed dinner, not too interested but setting everything up so that it could simmer and be fine. Then he stripped naked, pulled the drapes, doused the lights, and waited.
When Alison came in, she was grabbed, borne to the floor, and raped. He knew she wouldn't be displeased; she'd liked it well enough that day in the woods, en route out to her parents' home.
He was right. She loved it.
Her blouse got torn. It stayed on, as did her skirt. Her panties were dragged roughly off by her panting "rapist," who sent three runners down her stockings in the process of getting those filmy, already damp-crotched panties down her legs and off.
Then he was on her, and into her, lying on the rug just inside the door.
"HOO-AAGHHHHHHH!" she cried out, when his ripe erection burst violently up into her. She felt her every inner tissue being hurled forcibly aside, felt her vagina dilated instantly, violently, by the girth of his driving cock.
His body slapped hers with fleshy thumps. Beneath her, the floor refused to yield. She received the full impact and force of each hard jolting thrust up her belly.
Tremor after tremor leapt through her curvaceous hips and tensing, flexing thighs. Her hands leaped to the man atop her, ran hungrily over his nakedness, pulled him to her-which was totally unnecessary.
He groaned. He loved that, loved her enthusiasm and the way he was pounding her body with his, loved the sensation of hot, jerk-twitching vaginal membranes seemingly chewing on his heavy meat.
"I...think you...'re be-beating me...to...to a bloody pulp!" she groaned out, shuddering.
"Want me...to stop? Rather be...fucked like...a...lady?"
She grinned wickedly, a very willing rapee. "Uh! Just...just keep it...up, lover-r-r-r...being a b-bl-bloody pulp...isn't so ba-ad!"
Laughing joyously, he did his powerful best to fuck her even harder.
The heavy slamming impacts hurt his pubic bone. He didn't give a damn. It all felt great.
She was getting the greatest fuck of her life-getting more cock than she'd ever had rummaging up her. And loving it; the delighted brunette was groaning, gasping, nestled happily in his demanding embrace and delighting in the thick pillars of intensely male thighs that hammered his rock-hard pole into her.
His toes dug in and bulging calves and taut ass-cheeks strained powerfully.
His excitement and the perverse wildness of it all transferred themselves to her, too. Suddenly she was pounding the carpet with her stockinged heels. The moaning girl's entire quivery form snapped into a convulsive rigidity as orgasm after frenzied orgasm paraded through her. That final completion was intolerable agony-and the peak of absolute ecstasy.
To make it even better, he came before she was through blowing her own cork. Hot jolting lightning seemed to blast his entire organism.
Viscously thick semen hurtled forth from his tightened balls. Groaning and shivering, he ground into her, hanging on and being held onto, trying to come forever.
They didn't get up from the floor forever. That night they must have told each other the magnificent trio of words "I love you" dozens of times. That continued into the next day, though Alison persuaded him not to come.
"Save it," she urged.
Reluctantly, he saved it. And Saturday afternoon they drove out into the country again, for the orgy at Spencer House.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was the first daisy chain Clay McConnel had ever seen.
It wasn't like the movies, either. Not only could he see, and hear the grunts and groans and wet squishing sounds up close, he could smell the ever rising odor of sex, of genitals and perspiration and sweat and the juices from excited cunts and hard cocks.
Where to begin?
With the long rangy butler, Sexton. He was naked, and he sat comfortably in a chair, scooted forward toward the edge of the seat. His legs were widely parted, outstretched, and a cushion padded the space behind him and the chair's back.
On the butler's hard-on cock sat Debbie, blonde and tiny-and pierced up the ass. Her breasts were only partially visible; one of Sexton's hands came around from behind her to clamp each of those pretty white apples. Every time she wiggled, the stiff prick impaling her anus wiggled around in her rectum. Her buttocks were partially flattened and spread out on his thighs. And she was doing a lot of writheful wiggling.
Before the chair knelt Edmund-with his back to it. As lithe as he was reed-thin, Alison's older brother was arched backward, with his head out of sight between the legs of both Debbie and Sexton. Edmund's arms were up and back bent, his hands under Debbie's thighs, which he held high. That way her entire weight rested on her ass-and on Sexton's cock. Edmund was sucking her empty pussy and partially filling it by running his tongue swiftly in and out, in and out.
In front of Edmund was the maid, dark-skinned Mary. She was rocking herself back and forth, so that her mouth slid to and fro along the out-spearing shank of the young man's prick.
Her rocking not only filled her mouth with stiff cock, it ran another virile male tool in and out of her cunt. For on his back beneath her, his head right at the knees of the kneeling Edmund, lay Tony. Mary knelt astride his naked form, seated on his cock. Her legs were on the carpet from knees to toes, in either side of his supine body; her palms, too, pressed the floor for leverage in her steady rocking.
That rocking was aided by the steady surging of her employer, who knelt astride Tony's out? stretched but unparted legs, behind the kneeling Puerto Rican girl. Brian's huge sexual instrument was contained in her ass, rubbing steadily over Tony's, through the thin membrane that separated the girl's cock-stuffed ass-hole from her cock-distended vagina.
Behind Brian knelt his wife, black-gloved and wearing both latex hose and corset. Her face was shoved into the crack of his ass, and she was slavishly teasing and lapping his little anus with her wet, lewdly searching tongue. The big woman with the pinned-up mass of gleaming raven hair trembled and slewed her hips back and forth. Beneath her, the long torpedo shapes of her extraordinary breasts swung loosely, lewdly.
Her thighs straddled a scarlet pillow, and on it lay Alison's head. Her face was invisible; lying on her back with the scarlet pillow beneath her head and an electric blue one under her buttocks, Clay's future bride was happily and assiduously eating her mother out.
Alison's mouth and busy tongue made slippery squelching noises in her mother's pussy.
Monica's mouth and ceaselessly working tongue made obscene squelching noises in her sister's pussy.
Monica knelt between Alison's outstretched legs-sheathed in sexy black fishnet hose that formed a lovely, fascinatingly contrasting latticework on her pale thighs and calves. The older sister sighfully mouthed the open cunt of her younger sibling, while the latter similarly ate her mother.
Clay was at the end of the chain. With his cock up Monica's pussy from behind, he jarred her body with constant thrusts into that hot mushy hole.
But he was not fucking wildly or rapidly; he continually craned his neck to look along the line stretched out in front of him, fascinatedly watching the others. He and Debbie had the best views of any of the participants-but Debbie, with a cock in her ass and a tongue in her vulva, had her eyes closed. The very best view, of course, was Melanie's. The youngest Spencer and the youngest person present, Melanie was director. (Directrix, she told her father primly, was a sexist word. "Oh my," Brian had grinned, "shame on me-I'd HATE to call attention to your femaleness!" All had laughed, but thereafter he and the others referred to Melanie as Director, without an-ix or I-ess female ending on the word.)
It was her turn, Clay had been told. Orgies that just happened were nice, but tended to be messes, with someone or someones being left out. They had come up with the concept, long ago, of one of their number having a month to think of some group activity for the next togetherness session.
This long mixed sex daisy chain, then, was Melanie's invention. She had pieced it together on paper, made the announcement, told each what he or she was to do. She was their...sexual choreographer.
Right now she stood over by the wood-paneled wall, by the light switch. With bright eyes, she watched the other ten people. Her tongue frequently traced a glistening little path over her lower lip.
Pulling slowly back to the head of his cock, Clay ran it back up Monica from behind, jarring her forward. Her nose and tongue slid into her sister's flowing crack. With a twitch, Alison grasped her mother's thighs more tightly and sent her tongue jabbing up into the woman's black furred cunt. Writhing, Alexandra similarly invaded her husband's ass-hole with her own wet pink tongue, furled to make a plunging probe of it. Brian groaned and jammed forward into Mary's rectal canal with his quivering hard-on. "AAHHHGHH-I feel that cock!" Tony groaned, and humped his hips to send his own tool straight up into Mary's cunt, rubbing Brian's. Mary braced her hands to keep from strangling herself on Edmund's penis, and sucked hard at it. A ripple of excitement ran up his flat, indeed slightly concave belly, and he chewed at Debbie's dripping soft pussylips, knowing she dug the slight pain. Clamping her hands over Sexton's to crush his fingers into her tits, Debbie squirmed on that mouth at her cunt, and thus on Sexton's cock which was nicely and hotly contained up her far from virginal ass-hole.
And Sexton smiled, groaned, and clamped her jiggly young titties.
"Invasion of the privateer!" Melanie suddenly called out-and the little brunette in the knee-length white boots and tipless bra snapped off the light switch!
The Orgy Room was plunged instantly into darkness, a total velvety blackness that blotted out even Monica's back a few inches from Clay's eyes.
The Orgy Room was a big sprawling chamber in the basement. It was carpeted with soft scarlet, high-pile plush rug laid down on a foam rubber pad. There was a couch. There were three chairs. There must have been half a hundred pillows of assorted sizes, shapes, and colors. There was a foam rubber and velvet-padded bench on four A-shaping legs: a whipping bench. Too, there were half a dozen battery vibrators lying about, in three colors. And one strap-on dildo.
And now all was in darkness, with Melanie lose on the ten-person chain.
Clay grunted when he felt the teasing fingers wriggling over his assc rease, pretending to scratch at his anus. He swung a hand back-to touch nothing. He heard Melanie's little giggle, but already she was moving away.
"UH!" Monica got her nose mashed when Alison, whose nipple had just been pinched by her younger sister, involuntarily lurched with her hips. Alison grabbed at the offending fingers, but they and their owner were already gone.
Brian was stabbed in the ear with a nice stiff little nipple, and landed a slap on his daughter's compact, cock-loving ass even as she skipped away to tease someone else.
Debbie squeaked and jerked when sharp-nailed fingertips scratched over the violently erect, red-rouged nipple spearing out between Sexton's fingers. He groaned at her sudden sharp movement on his cock. And Melanie, giggling, tripped away.
From behind, two hands began playing with Clay's ass and, reaching in through the fork of his thighs, his balls. He reached behind him even as he lurched forward into the kneeling Monica. His hands found Melanie's brassiered breasts with their bare nipples, and he squeezed them both. She mashed them against his back and rubbed her furry-and virginal-pussy against his ass.
"Little bitch," he said, backward. "No one's ever going to come, with you hotfooting around teasing us this way!"
"Who cares? Everybody's having fun!"
Moving around him, she knelt and he felt her hand on his cock, as he pushed it in and out of the teenager's older sister. Monica felt it too, which was Melanie's intention. She groaned and quivered, twitched and shook while Melanie's hand played with her clitoris and dripping vulva.
Clay continued his unhurried pumping in and out of that sap-filled recess while the younger girl played with its throbbing trigger. Clay's hand, meanwhile, groped over a warm young body in the darkness, until he found first the globes and then the warmth-radiating crack of Melanie's bottom.
He began fondling, squeezing and lifting the nicely cloven ass globes, testing and reveling in the plasticity of the sexy hemispheres, letting roaming fingers wander titillantly down into the long pink furrow that divided them. Again and again he ran his fingertip over the soft coil of her anus, gently pushing each time.
Suddenly his hand was joined by hers-which was wet. With her sister's cunt-sap, he realized. Melanie smeared it over her own ass-hole.
Clay pushed his longest finger straight up into the girl's anus, actually feeling the tautness and then swift relaxation of her sphincter muscle. Finger spearing Melanie's rectum did not stop him from pushing cock in and out of her sister's cunt, continuing his regular rhythm of long slow strokes.
The combination of his cock and Melanie's finger sent Monica over the edge. Moaning, shivering, sounding as if she wept, she climaxed and her cunt grabbed its plug again and again. Clay minded not at all.
When Monica sagged weakly, he drew his dripping big poker out of her and laid demanding hands on her younger sister. Seconds later, he was pushing cunt-wet dick all the way up the squirming girl's rear.
God, he thought, as he rammed her receptive ass and heard her delighted gurgles and sighs, this is wild! He went over in his mind what was happening, aromatically and noisily-and invisibly-all around him.
He and Sexton and Brian were fucking ass. Tony was fucking cunt-or being fucked by one, since he lay beneath Mary. Mary was meanwhile eating cock; the only one of the hunching, humping, moaning, sighing, eleven who had cock in three orifices of her shapely body. Edmund, like Alison, was eating cunt....Clay could no longer be sure whether Monica still kept her mouth busy between Alison's tensing thighs or not. Alexandra, while being pussy-licked by her daughter, was sweetly rim-jobbing her husband even as he plunged in and out of the maid's ass-hole.
Jesus, Clay McConnel thought, and gouged deeply into the cock-loving ass-hole of his future wife's "baby" sister.
Melanie reached around to give his balls a little squeeze.
"Oh that's so good," she sighed, and he knew from her voice that her head was turned back his way. "Keep it in, in, keep it in!"
"No way I won't!"
"Uh...and now...come along..."
Warned, Clay moved when she did. The girl crawled forward. He felt a change in the angle of her butt's upturn, wondered what she was about
Then he heard Alison say, huskily, "Oh thank you, Monica darling. I thought you'd gone away and left me high and wet!"
"Monica shit," Melanie told her sister wetly. "It's me. Clay and I have knocked Monica out...rendered her whore de combat!"
Clay chuckled at the double pun that combined French and English, and held himself desperately in check. Determined to hold out, to make it last, he held himself to slow, short strokes up Melanie's ass despite his urge to fuck her hard and long and fast in a wild drive for orgasm.
About twenty seconds later Alison squealed, announced mushily that she was coming, then squealed again.
Again Melanie's hand came back to fondle Clay's testicles.
"That's our second good deed for the day," she told him over her shoulder. "Can you hang in there awhile longer?"
"Honey I'd like to hang it in you for the next two hours I"
She giggled, patted. "Let's move some more."
She crawled. He followed, keeping his cock in her ass. She soon reported to him what she was doing: jamming four fingers rapidly up and down in her mother's cunt. Clay held still, his organ anally ensconced, taking a rest and winding down. He heard Alexandra's moans. Heard her grunts. Heard her yell. He was sure the thumps he then hears were made by her body, toppling over to curl and writhe in orgasm.
Melanie's third good deed! She had taken care of both her sisters and her mother-and all the while with Clay's turgid dick bulging the walls of her rectum.
She moved forward, just a little. Clay stayed with her. He heard her say "Hi Daddy," and he heard Brian's grunt. Clay wondered what Melanie was doing.
"OH GOD!" Tony cried out. "I'm done for!"
"Ooo-ahh-m-m-m-mmmmm," Mary sighed, as the gardener splashed semen up her ass. "Oh, oh, ohhh...I-I'm getting it from both ends!"
Which told Clay that both Tony and Edmund were "done for," and that Mary had semen running down her throat and down out of her cunt onto the standing tool of the man beneath her...whose tool would not be standing many more seconds!
He was jarred by a jarring of Melanie's body. Brian had begun hunching rapidly into the maid to give her a third seminal injection-spurred by her daughter's fondling his ass and balls, from behind.
Smiling, Clay listened to Brian's long, drawn-out sigh as he pumped out his hot load into Mary's ass-hole. Clay drew long and pushed slowly back in, allowing himself a nice stroke in and out of Melanie's sweetly clamping ass.
A moving body brushed his, and sounds soon told him that both Alison and Mary were ecstatically happy...Alison was lapping Tony's semen out of the Puerto Rican maid's dark-lipped vaginal
Clay had no idea then that Debbie had come a number of times, and that Sexton had long since shot his wad up into the little blonde's squirming intestines. She was limply sagging back onto the equally limp butler, as a matter-of-fact, and Edmund lay stretched out on the floor, gasping.
Hair brushed Clay's balls; a hand gave him a tentative exploration and a fond squeeze.
"The winnah-h-h-h and new champeeeeeen," Monica announced into the darkness, from the vicinity of Clay's crotch, "Cla-a-a-ayy MccCon-nel! Still hard as a rock and pumping like a piston!"
"Hurra-a-a-ayyyyy!" Alison called. A couple of male voices echoed her-weakly and halfheartedly.
Trying not to preen with pride, Clay stroked in and out of the young girl's wriggly backside. Her sister lay beneath her and joined her mouth to
Melanie's lower one, an inch below the tiny hole now strained so grotesquely round and wide by Clay's pistoning dick. Monica's lips surrounded Melanie's soft labia, and she sucked.
The others moved in the darkness. Then someone turned on the lights. All stared at the trio still engaged in pumping sucking sexual activity.
Standing beside her brother, Alison put a hand over and began playing with his genitals. Her fingers pressed and squeezed; her palm moved caressingly up and down the undersurface of his penis. Edmund stood still, his eyes fastened on his other two sisters and the man so pleasantly occupied with them.
Soon little Debbie was on her knees again, palms on the floor. She gently sucked and flicked her warm lapping tongue at the very head of Brian's spent penis. Behind her, Tony steadily hand-spanked his blonde wife's upturned, naked bottom.
With a groan and a series of shudders, Clay pumped hot semen up into Melanie's squirming, clenching ass-hole. Just as warm though not so thick, fluid flowed from her open cunt into Monica's mouth. Sighing, panting a little, Clay pulled his depleted prick free and stepped back. He staggered a little.
Jesus, he thought, Tm shot! These dam' people know how to take it easy and make this orgy stuff last. I may be asleep in about two minutes...and I wouldn't bet on another hardron before about Tuesday...afternoon I He continued moving backward until his legs encountered the couch. He sat down, suddenly. A bit hazy of eye, he watched the others.
Melanie merely stretched out on the floor and lay still. One leg was up and over, shielding her loins in a clear indication to everyone that she'd had enough for the present.
Monica's activity would have seemed strangely tame, high schoolish, had it not been for her nakedness. With Sexton still seated in the large chair, she went over and slid onto his thighs-onto what would have been his lap had he worn anything to make a lap. Wrapping her arms around him and pressing her nearer breast firmly into his bone-plated chest, she began softly nuzzling his neck.
Alison and her brother seemed to be having a nipple-pinching contest. Edmund had a lot more available to pinch-but Alison was worrying and working with his small male nipples just as avidly. Clay saw that they had reddened and speared out from Edmund's chest in little hard-ons.
Having fixed herself a Scotch over ice, their tall, voluptuous mother watched the two amorous siblings.
Mary had gone to hands and knees beside Debbie, whose upturned ass was reddened a bit by Tony's steadily spanking hand. Happy with the attentions of two kneeling young women, each offering no urging her mouth, Brian stood over them with a little smile on his face. Tucking in his hips, he drew his slimy cock from Debbie's mouth. It had grown, Clay saw. Brian moved only a little, to offer himself to the full, red lips of the kneeling maid.
Kneeling close beside the blonde, the Puerto Ri-can girl's skin and jet-black hair formed a lovely, artistic and sexy contrast. Her mouth formed a shining red ring around the standing man's slowly swelling dick.
Clay watched with fascination. He was not even aware that his own hand was between his thighs, idly manipulating his balls.
"You need help with that, champion," a throaty voice said.
Clay looked up at Alexandra. She smiled, offered him her glass. He took a sip of her Scotch.
"Thanks."
"What else can I do for you?"
He smiled rather wistfully. "Put me to bed."
Alexandra's smile was broader. She finished the Scotch. "Nonsense," she said. "That's not really what you want. Here."
Alexandra slipped easily down onto her latex-sheathed knees. She was between his parted legs. Her black-gloved hands moved to her own breasts, great balls hung loosely in swollen masses from just beneath her collarbones. She pressed them together, catching his long but far from hard cock between them.
Holding her own tits to form an enclosing tunnel of warmth and soft skin, she began moving them, all around his cock. At the same time she moved her kneeling body too, rocking, providing his organ with soft titillating friction from two directions at once.
"Ohh," he groaned, "that's good!"
"I thought you'd like it," Alexandra purred, moving and moving.
The softness of those fleshy, pale white mounds surrounding his cock filled him with a restless new sensation of flaring lust. It was so warm, in her titsy tunnel!
Her back was to the others. She concentrated on him, on his penis. Her shoulders moved and her hips rocked, just a little, to impart more movement. Sheathed in soft black leather, her hands continually revised the shape of her breasts as she kept them locked and moving around his penis.
It grew. Her own hands kneaded and massaged her large tits, and those warmth-radiating gourds of satiny-skinned flesh massaged his cock. He felt relentless surges of sensuality flickering about deep in his pelvis, in his tightening testicles.
"Lovely, Alexandra," he said quietly, leaning forward and covering her hands with his. He pressed. His fingers dug into the compact softness of her bewitching breasts, "I do love your tits."
She looked into his face with smoky eyes. The head of his cock appeared in the cleavage between her breasts, and it was swollen and dark with the blood that swelled it. The kneeling woman looked down at it, and licked her lips.
He surged his hips to shove his cock in and out between her tits, which both her hands and his kept pressed firmly around it. The masses of her bosom were damp and slippery now, with perspiration.
She responded with a starved eagerness that was almost whorishly wanton. Her breath began to come in swift panting surges.
"They're yours," she told him in a whisper hoarse with rising libidinous intoxication. "Take them, darling...and do what you want with them!"
"I like fucking them," he said, and moved more urgently.
He had lost contact with the rest of the room and the nine other people in it. The purring voice from behind him came as a surprise.
"What a sexy pair you are!" Alison said. "But Alexandra's breasts are getting all the attention I ask!"
When she leaned over the back of the couch, Alison's naked breasts flopped warmly down onto Clay's shoulders, the back of his neck. They were crowded together, bracing his neck, when she reached down with both arms. Her hands began scratching lightly up and down and around on his chest.
Little flickers of pleasure leaped back into him from his fingernail-assaulted nipples. He sighed, worked his buttocks against the couch, sawing his now long and thick penis in and out of the deep warm, sweat-wet cleft between Alexandra's breasts.
Once again he lost track of what the others were doing. It didn't matter; he had the attention of two women, the loving attention, and he was happy and occupied. His libido soared-and so did its outward manifestation. The organ moving in and out between Alexandra's swollen white knockers became even longer, thicker, and rigidly firm.
While the daughter fondled his chest and teased his nipples, he fucked her kneeling mother's tits.
(Monica lay on her back on the floor. Over her knelt Debbie. Holding one of the blonde's dangling tits with both hands, fingers digging in, Monica sucked and bit and chewed at the scarlet morsel at its very tip. Moaning, Debbie held her head well up, while Brian fucked her face. Behind her, Tony had two fingers up her ass and two more buried in her cunt. He was moving his arm rapidly, simultaneously fucking both her orifices, his rigid fingers whipping in two or three inches and then out nearly all the way before ramming back up her again.)
Seemingly about to break her neck, Alexandra forced her head down to kiss the shining head of the huge male instrument that was driving up between her tits, abrading them with an unbelievable stiffness. Her kiss was soft, gentle, slightly sucking, and very warm. His cock leaped and throbbed.
With a sudden great shiver, she tugged her gloved hands from beneath his. Her breasts rippled around his hard-on. It jerked. The big woman placed both hands on his legs, levered herself up. When her hands pressured his thighs inward, he allowed himself to be manipulated.
Alexandra moved astride his thighs, her big warm ones pressing their outer surfaces with the soft caress of her hose, paper-thin sheaths of lightweight rubber.
Alison's Junoesque mother-except that no statue of the ancient goddess had ever been created with such big swollen jiggly tits-smiled into his face. Her cunt lips bulged, full and muscular, right above his boldly upstanding cock. Her hand took hold of its base with cool leather-coated fingers.
She squatted.
The big woman's calf muscles bulged enticingly and her face took on an expression of concentration as her warm hand steered the virile column of his groin up into the swollen, voluptuous lips of her cunt.
"Uh!" he gasped. His prick was vanishing steadily, and she was flamingly hot inside. Flamingly-and inflammatorily.
Tightening the firm big ovals of her rump, she writhed her broad hips in a slow movement that was totally erotic. Wet and warm and silkily sliding, her cunt glided all around his upstanding column of sex.
He released a long sigh. One of Alison's hands continued raking his nipple; the other took hold of the far larger strut of her mother's left tit-tip.
Alexandra pressed down hard, squirming, forcing him deeper. And deeper.
"AAAAAAGHHHHHHH!" she gusted out. Her bulging eyes actually leaked bright sparkling tears at the sensation of the huge standing shaft's ultra-violent throbbing and expanding between the tender folds of flesh that cushioned her vaginal track.
She worked atop him, constantly and steadily pumping herself up and down and groaning, sighing with passion and the effort of her strong, lust-dictated movements. Her straining legs quivered and her calves bulged. Tendons stood out in her thighs, and quivered.
Her standing, pumping body claimed his cock, clutched and clenched his cock, sucked his cock with hotly seething pussy muscles.
The cream-skinned flopping pears of her big missile-shaped tits bounced exuberantly in the free air.
Behind him, Alison continued leaning over the couch, continued crowding the back of his neck with her breasts, and her hand continued working away at his nipples and at her mother's.
A hot flush of pleasure engulfed his entire organism and his body seemed to vibrate as if dynamo-driven. Warm wet cunt slithered up and down the thick shaft of his hard meat, splayed lips and inner walls clasping the hot flesh excitedly, and excitingly. Her pumping big body filled his ears with the hot wet sounds of exuberant fucking.
(Mary and Melanie were almost identically engaged with Sexton. Mary rode his stiff new erection, bobbing her butt and slapping his bony thighs. Leaning over the back of his chair, Melanie twisted the butler's nipples as well as those swollen red-brown nodes that tipped the maid's jumping jiggly breasts. There was a difference from the sort of attention and activity Clay was receiving. Mary's middle finger was most of the way up the seated butler's ass. And his eyes were fixed, glassy, as if he were in a sexual hypnosis.)
With her mouth open and panting wildly, Alexandra bounced. Her body danced on Clay's. She sucked up increasingly deep breaths into her burning lungs, causing her beautiful breasts to thrust out more and more, shadowing him and jiggling before her.
The wet silky sheath of her pussy felt wonderful, sliding up and down his cock. He shivered, knew his balls were tightening, knew he was going to come. His hands clamped her tits, tightened. And tightened some more.
Then, groaning, pressing her down with both hands, he shot his fianc'e's mother full of semen.
A few minutes later, taking deep breaths to return his inhalations to normal, he was watching his wife-to-be suck his semen out of the red-lipped crotch of her groaning mother.
And the orgy continued.. . .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I love you!"
Clay looked up smiling as Alison's voice came ringingly out of the bathroom, reaching him where he sat in one of the hotel room's two easy chairs. He was naked. His hand was toying with his cock. It was an idle toying; he wasn't trying to make it hard. But he had. It was hard, a thick glistening shaft with a big pulsing crown that was deeply pink with its engorging blood.
"I love you, too, baby. And you'd better drag ass in here pretty damned soon!"
"Oh please," she called in a high, squeaky voice. "Don't rush me, sweetheart. You KNOW I'm a virgin, and I know this is our honeymoon, and believe me I want you. But...I'm a little scared.. . . "
Clay grinned. A game already, and on the first night of their life together; the evening of the day of their wedding. OK, he mused, he'd play that game.
The day of their wedding. He wondered if ever a bridegroom had been kissed as he had been. He knew he hadn't married just Alison Spencer-now
McConnel. He had married her mother, and her sisters, and the family maid, and the wife of the family gardener-handyman. And for all he knew, there was an assortment of aunts and cousins, just as sexy and free of hang-ups as Alison and Alexandra, Monica and Melanie, Mary and Debbie!
His "virgin" bride entered the dimly lit room, lovely with her jet hair down, a mocha-colored nightie of wispy nylon billowing and whispering about her in yards and yards of net. Playing shy, she came over to where he sat.
Her blue eyes went wide and stared. "DAR-ling! You're PLAYING with yourself I"
"I'm anxious," he told her.
She forgot all about the virgin bride routine. "But you shouldn't do that...I'll play with that lovely thing. You keep your hands busy with ME!"
He chuckled, running his hand up and down her thigh, through the wispy gown. "You're starting out early as a dictatorial nagging wife."
She chuckled. "What do you want, a 'Please let me love up your cock while you do...ahh, this and that with me'? "
"Not necessary," he said, and pulled her up close to the chair. He hoisted her billowing skirts, admiring her knees and thighs along the way. When he had bared her newly-clipped, black furred vulva, he pressed his mouth to it in a lingering kiss.
She trembled. "Uh-o-o-o-oohhh...Clayy-y-y...."
Clinging to her buttocks with both hands, he grew more involved in what he was doing. And she sighed and trembled.
The marvelous mouth muffing her filled her with warm glows of pleasure; made her shiver and make little vocal sighing sounds of pure delight. Her hips arched automatically to his beloved face while he licked the full lips that framed the warm, damp opening of her cunt.
"Oh darling," she sighed, her voice wispy as her bride's gown.
The standing woman moaned and shivered and squirmed, suffering from an excess of moisture in the vagina. The knobby little head of her lust-trigger pushed resolutely forth, wet from the copious syrup of her overworking glands. Long and wet, his tongue teased over her clitoris, and she jerked violently. Almost instantly, her nipples rose stiffly up from the massy mounds of her breasts.
He licked, swallowing her fluids and making splashing sounds in them with his tongue, until she moaned in orgasm and sank to her knees.
Soon after, it was her tongue that was busy, lewdly licking over the glistening head of his erection. With a hand on her gently bobbing head, pressing down into the mass of shining black hair, he sighed. He looked around the room, tired to hold back his sexuality by thinking about the wedding, their presents.
There had been a lot of them. The Spencers had money. Most exciting, though, had been the private, open-later gifts.
While his woman sucked his cock, he thought about them, and the thinking did nothing to hold back the tightening of his balls.
One present had been to him, for Alison: a new corset, of lace-up latex. It was an eighteen-inch little thing, for him to begin reducing her waist even further-and Alison had squealed happily over it!
Another gift was a branding iron, with an M for McConnel. It, too, had been given to Clay. For Alison. Thinking about it and wondering if he would use it, he began hunching in to fuck her sweetly sucking face.
