Pursuing morality and immorality have been dominant goals for man since the time of recorded history. Among the proponents of morality are a group of philosophers known as Stoics; believers that man should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submit without complaint to unavoidable necessity. One of the foremost apostles of this doctrine was Lucius Annaeous Seneca, whose fame and influence impressed even the theologians of Christianity during a period of horrible persecution, despite the fact he was not a believer of their faith. His philosophies penetrated into the minds of Montaigne, Bacon, Shakespeare, Ben Johnson, Racine, Milton, and Dryden. Even in the 19th century it attracted poets like Wordsworth and thinkers like Emerson.
On the side of immorality, there was a man whose very name was, and still is, synonymous with immoral excesses of all kinds and an object of utter detest to moral Christians. Nero! This man was ruler of the Roman Empire during its "Great Age" - a period in which it flourished and expanded under the guidance of a succession of "concerned" emperors.
It is ironical that two individuals of such vastly different moral thinking - to say nothing of behavior - should be remembered today within the same conjunctive thought. The irony, however, does not stop there. Both men evolved from the same era, both men lived within the same time span, and both of them resided in the same country. Extraordinary? Yes. But there is more. And the fact that they lived under the same roof is enough to boggle the mind in its incredibility.
Yet it is truth.
A truth that becomes even more ironical when one realizes that the infamous Nero with his scandalous behavior that few men have exceeded, was the pupil of the righteous Seneca, a man famous in his own right for his preaching of moral doctrine, of which the following is an example: Virtue is a lofty, quality, sublime, royal, unconquerable, untiring. You will meet virtue in the temple, the marketplace, the senate house, manning the walls, covered with dust, sunburnt, horny-handed; you will find pleasure sulking put of sight, seeking shady nooks.
You may, then, boldly declare that the highest good is singleness of mind, for where the agreement and unity are, there must the virtues be. It is the vices that are at war with one another.
So, the immoral emperor and the virtuous philosopher lived hand-in-hand. And when it came time to die, it was the same - death by their own hands.
From this contrast in character, of morality and immorality, the author has taken the threads, infused two of the most powerful themes in literature - revenge, and sexual attraction of man and woman and woven a tale.
We see in Jill Foster a personification of many of our social ills today. She is bitter, unhappy, and disappointed that the magic promises of life have dissolved under the heat of reality. At twenty-three she is suddenly widowed. When she learns of the man who has taken the life of her husband, she becomes an avenging angel of doom.
Under her neurotic plan for revenge, Jill becomes embroiled in a grotesque manhunt that pits her own morality against the overwhelming forces of evil. Offered a second chance to experience everything she has lost - sexual contentment, happiness, companionship - she finds herself caught in a whirlpool of depravity that springs from that initial quest for revenge.
In this graphic portrayal of vengeance and immorality, the final question is not resolved until the last page, and in the immortal words of Seneca, perhaps, lies the answer: "Revenge is a confession of pain."
-The Publishers
PROLOGUE
The girl with the honey colored hair had been sitting by the terminal gate for almost half an hour. As the minutes lengthened she seemed to be reading a copy of a news magazine, flicking through the pages slowly. Most of the time, though, her eyes had been on the entrance to the boarding ramp. As the last passenger passed through Gate 16 she closed the periodical, bent gracefully to pick up a small makeup case of tooled leather and joined the end of the line. Her movements were casual and unhurried. She was not unaware of the hungry, male eyes which took in each detail of her slender figure from the soft mass of hair to the small tips of her white shoes. She was as delicately exquisite as a rare orchid and the expensively simple suit of beige colored silk flatteringly touched her hips and the contours of her long legs. Her oval face was as fresh as spring lupin and she looked as though she were the perfectly poised and turned out product of an exclusive finishing school. Without speaking she turned her ticket over to the gatemen, received it back, nodded pleasantly, and passed on.
At the steps of the jet, the girl seemed to be having trouble with the clasp of her bag. It took her a few moments to adjust it and during the interval she kept her eyes on the ramp to the terminal building.
"Better hurry, Miss," the ground steward urged and held out a hand to assist her to the steps.
Then, without haste, she stepped lightly up, followed by the steward. He watched her disappear and shook his head bewilderedly. People were always doing funny things. She could have just as well fixed her bag inside.
The DC-10 moved out as slowly and as effortlessly as a breeze, gently twisting its long, gleaming body down the runway ramp. Minutes later it was hurtling along the runway, then rising steeply on its way to Los Angeles.
* * *
Head propped against a pillow, long legs stretched as far as space would allow, Matt Grant watched the smoke from his cigarette rise and disappear with the invisible current of the air-conditioning system. His dark, lean face was in repose but there was an odd, speculative luster in his eyes as though something secretly amused him. He had been in this position from the time the huge jet had left the Cleveland airport. When he was thinking, he liked to stretch out and he was thinking now, seriously, and with a curious sense of baffled curiosity. Nothing dropped into form as it should. There were intriguing bits of a puzzle in his mind but they refused to fall into place. The whole thing just didn't make any sense!
He drew heavily upon the cigarette stub and lit another from its coal. The small tray on the arm rest beside him was all but overflowing with twisted butts. Intuition, experience, told him this was no fantastic coincidence and yet it had to be. Coincidence's that involved Victor Rizzi - head of Cleveland's underworld "family" - were Matt Grant's business. And Jill Foster was Victor Rizzi's secretary. So, she too, was his business. But why was she leaving Cleveland? Why was she traveling alone? Why? Why? Why?
Matt rubbed the knuckles of a heavy hand against his nose as though this rough massage would draw out the answer.
A week ago he had been in Mexico. There, in the countryside, the magic bush grew. Acres, upon acres; mile after mile of verdant beauty, shining in the sunlight like endless fields of ripe quivering corn. But they brought no aesthetic pleasure to the women and girls who worked among the rows harvesting the mature marijuana plants for market. Nor to the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, Mexican authorities, undercover agents, and informers who fought an endless war to shut off the supply into the United States. From Matamoros, across the Rio Grande from Brownsville, Texas, to Tijuana, with its crossing into San Diego, there were hundreds of openings. It was impossible to police this extensive border. What Washington tried to do was close the big gaps. Sometimes, Matt thought wearily, the whole thing was like a worn tire. You patched it up here and it blew out there. In Mexico City, he had talked long and earnestly with Mexican officials, government agents, local police. They had flown over the area and looked down upon the fields. It seemed incredible that such malignance, terror, agony and torture could stem from the fields of shimmering beauty.
Back in Washington, Matt had carefully prepared his report. It contained little of which the Bureau was not aware and served only to keep some sort of a check on the current activities. He had been given a pat on the head, a weeks vacation, and a transfer to Los Angeles. The transfer was not unexpected; he had worked there before. In fact he liked California. What better place to start a vacation? But he was restless. In his mind there was a file of names and faces that ranged from the lowly users and pushers to the top - the heads of the underworld "families", the brains behind the web of organized crime that spanned from coast to coast. And, Victor Rizzi was there. So was Jill Foster. It bothered him - vacation or not. . .
Matt Grant straightened up from his lounging position, ordered a martini and stared out the window. He sipped the liquor appreciatively, and smiled at his reflection in the glass. He had a much needed seven days of leisure and here he was, right in the middle of a witches' brew. Whatever Vic Rizzi - and Jill Foster - were up to was really none of his business. He chuckled, he'd simply take his seat in the orchestra and watch the show. Yet, in a small part of Matt's mind, there was a voice that wouldn't let him rest - a voice that had interested him when he had first seen the Foster girl in the terminal.
She was a thing of beauty. She had a background, breeding, education. How then, had she gotten involved with Victor Rizzi? Why was she working for a known gangster. No, "gangster" was old-fashioned. These days society had to deal with a new breed, a second generation from the mob rulers who once held all the major American cities as their private kingdoms and shooting preserves. The Capones, Schultzes, Lepkes, and Lucianos were men of musty fiction. In their places were shrewd businessmen, many of them graduates of eastern universities. They lived quietly, circumspectly and in an aura of respectability. Yet their well-manicured fingers still held the same old threads. Dope, Gambling. Prostitution. The manifold rackets from the numbers with their five-and-ten-cent bets to silent partnerships in hotels and casinos from Las Vegas to Acapulco. Nothing had really changed. The operation now was suave, polished, sophisticated. Murder was done and often, but it no longer roared around a corner in a black sedan. It came quietly and with finesse.
The Foster girl, he mused, was part of the new look. He had watched her from a point outside her vision. For all her appearance of casualness her attention had never strayed for long from the boarding gates. So, he had told himself, she is waiting for someone to show but it wasn't Rizzi. If she was taking a trip with Victor, wouldn't she have gone directly to the plane? So why the hell hadn't she gone to the plane instead of sitting there pretending to read a magazine?
Grant had decided to wait. There was time. His curiosity had been piqued as she watched gate 16, the flight to Los Angeles; his flight.
When she had finally closed the magazine, he had dropped his cigarette, mashing it out with the toe of a shoe, and joined the line ahead of her.
Now - and he smiled at the reflection in the glass - he had this interest provoking situation to watch. Maybe - just maybe - he might combine a little business with pleasure .. .
* * *
Jill Foster was suspended somewhere halfway between sleep and a drowsy wakefulness as the plane flew steadily westward. In the corners of her fine eyes small amounts of moisture had collected. Her thoughts had returned to Jack, her Jack .. . her husband . . . Lieutenant Jack Foster, member of Baltimore's vice squad on loan to the Cleveland Police Department as an undercover agent in a joint project to smash a thriving prostitution ring that floated between Cleveland, Pittsburg, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Her Jack.. . dead and buried in a cold cemetery plot, put there by one Victor Rizzi.
It had begun over a year ago. At that time, only days after Jack's death, Jill had thought it the thing to do. In her sorrow, confused and revengeful, it had seemed sensible. Now, as she looked back on it, it had been stupid - a thing some head-strong teenager might do. It had really started with Captain Elliot Fisher. It had been he who had unwittingly planted the germ of an idea in her head when he painstakingly explained the facts behind Jack's senseless death.
The tearful woman who sat across from him would not be placated by the prepared statements released after her husband's death. She pressed him relentlessly with probing questions. Why? Why? Why? she wanted to know. Why had Jack really been in Cleveland? Why had he been killed? Who had killed him? Finally, he had given in to her, telling her what he could about the events leading up to the death. Bare facts, but essential facts to Jill who lay awake that night and every night for two weeks thereafter, sleeping only when the sun rose and dispelled the lonely darkness from the bedroom and the double bed with it's single lonely occupant. During the long night Jill went over and over the few facts Captain Fisher had given her until a rough plan had formed. Then, every night, in the still darkness, she went over it, again and again, until finally after two weeks she felt she had rounded off the rough edges and had a plan that would work - a plan that would avenge her poor Jack.
Captain Fisher had told her about the person behind the prostitution ring in Cleveland and that this man was the man responsible for Jack's death. He had also told her that the killing had been professional and that there was not a thread of a clue that could link Victor Rizzi to the crime. But Jill knew it was there, somewhere, and she would find it. And when she did she would see to it that Victor Rizzi was put away.
But how was she going to get to Rizzi? How could she get close enough to him to find out what she needed to know? She could, of course, become a prostitute in his ring. She rejected it for two reasons. First, even for the memory of her dead husband, it was beyond her moral capabilities. The thought repulsed and nauseated her. Secondly, she doubted if any of those girls ever got close to him. He probably kept his own mistress, or mistresses. Finally, she decided that the only way to get close to him, and the evidence she needed, was to get a job within one of his legitimate organizations where she could be close to his contacts and his files. From a point close to him, within the organization, she could then find the information she needed. She was a trained secretary and a skilled model, so it shouldn't be too hard to get a job.
Three weeks after the funeral Jill sold all of their possessions and moved to Cleveland. For three months she gathered information on Victor Rizzi's operations. She made friends with several of the girls who worked in his legitimate enterprises and through one got an interview, and then a job as a secretary in his suite of offices. From there it had been easy. Despite her mental repulsiveness for the man, Jill worked hard to charm Victor Rizzi. Once she gained his confidence, she had set to work discovering all she could about the organization. After several months he had made her his private secretary and it took skillfullness to fight off his advances. She traveled with him wherever he went. She always insisted on separate accommodations, but found it difficult to refuse the lavish gifts, clothing and credit cards he forced on her. At the end of nine months she still had not come any closer to finding the evidence she needed.
Then, yesterday, Victor had discovered her going through his desk. Somehow she had managed to convince him that it was an innocent act, but she knew the seed of doubt had been planted. Right now the efficient organization was digging into her past and it was only a matter of time before they discovered she was the widow of Jack Foster. So she had decided to run! But where could she go where he wouldn't find her? How badly would he want her? She didn't know. But she could guess. And what was she going to do when she got to Los Angeles? There was only a little over four hundred dollars in her purse and when that was gone she didn't know where she would get more. She would have to find a job where she would be inconspicuous. She couldn't go back to modeling, or to a secretarial job. Those would be the first places he would look for her. And she had to find a place to live ...
The plane began to shudder slightly and the "fasten seat belt" sign flashed on. They were descending for the approach to Los Angeles International Airport. Oh well, she thought, first things first. I need a drink to calm my nerves. I'll buy a newspaper and check the want ads. Something will turn up . . .
CHAPTER ONE
The airport bar was crowded. At a table in one darkened corner the girl with honey-blonde hair was seated with unaffected naturalness. A neatly folded newspaper lay on the table before her. She was oblivious of the covert glances of the unattached males who scanned every detail of her breasts, legs, and face; the figure so artfully molded in the tailored suit. When her eyes did meet an inquisitive and speculative stare they did so without the slightest trace of recognition but passed on and beyond.
The man with the dark, lean face and odd speculative eyes hesitated in front of the vacant chair. The girl looked up and saw the question in his eyes.
"Certainly." She murmured. Her words were soft, tinged with a well-bred huskiness. "No one's sitting in it."
"Thank you. There doesn't seem to be a vacant table."
The girl smiled with a pleasant impersonality but said nothing. Her attention returned to the slender rows of black print.
"This is the first time I have been west of the Rockies." The man's hawk-like eyes sparkled with feigned excitement. "I've come to California to see my sister and her children. She's been trying for years to get me to come - even stay. Said I would live twenty years longer out here. Don't know whether that's a real advantage or not." He chuckled at the mild jest. Then, as an afterthought, he fished about in a breast pocket, removed an old wallet, extracted a faded photograph and tentatively extended it toward the girl. She took it with a small expression of patience. "That's my sister and her children." A pleased smile creased his features. "Of course it isn't a very good picture. I guess everyone says that about a photograph."
The girl studied the group with forced interest. "Nice looking children." She handed it back.
"It was taken several years ago." He replaced the picture in his wallet. "I guess the boys are real young men by this time.
It is going to be quite an experience to see them."
He was prattling with such disarming innocence and goodwill that the girl found herself warming despite herself. She lay the want-ad section aside.
The man beckoned to a passing waitress.
"I think I would have a gin, no vermouth but with just a touch of olive juice in it." He spoke the words with a relish. "Would you join me?"
"Gin with olive juice would suit me fine." Her fine blue eyes crinkled with laughter. "I don't think I have ever tried the combination."
"I'm Jill Foster." The girl smiled at the man and lifted an eyebrow. "Now we know each other."
Their drinks arrived and the girl sipped tentatively at the transparent liquid. Her tongue touched lightly at her lower lip and approval of the drink appeared in her eyes. She produced a cigarette, let him light it, leaned back in her chair and studied him.
His dark speculative gaze held hers. "Where you heading? Or is this your final destination?"
"This is it... I think." She said it impulsively, half out of loneliness, half out of the feeling that if Rizzi was looking for her, his men would be less likely to look for a woman and a man.
"Perhaps," he hesitated only a moment, "perhaps we could have dinner together? That is, if you don't have an engagement."
The answer came in the length of time it took her long, dark lashes to blink, twice, rapidly. "Thank you." She gave him a smile which flooded over him like warm sunshine. "I think it would be pleasant." Jill Foster took a deep breath. She had been startled by the abruptness of the question and the approach. Instinct, experience, forced her to unbend and adopt a more casual air. There was something so gentle and reassuring in the innocently beaming face ... and something vaguely familiar. "Strange," she said, "but I have the feeling that we've met somewhere before."
Matt Grant darted a quick glance at the girl. Something in what she said, not the words, but the tone, suddenly made him wary. It was as though Jill Foster knew something he didn't. That was ridiculous, he told himself. How could she?
Suddenly there was a quiet tension between them - an intangible tension like two jungle cats stalking one another in the darkness - as they quietly reappraised each other. Matt was bent slightly forward, his big hands dangling loosely between his knees. The smoke from a cigarette between his fingers drifted from under the table and twined upward in a wavering vine. Jill stared at him with a puzzled, all but frightened fascination. There was a compelling, saturnine quality about the man. He seemed gentle, and yet, somehow, quietly deadly. It was an unusual combination.
Matt knew he had to work fast; it would be only a matter of time before she remembered. Somewhere, evidently, she had seen him - or a picture of him. Was it possible that Victor Rizzi had a file on him? Just as the Bureau had one on Rizzi. The answer was obvious! Rizzi was a careful man. Nobody had ever been able to pin a thing on him. Not the Bureau, nor the FBI. Not even the IRS. And, somehow, somewhere, Jill Foster must have seen that file. It seemed incredible, but it must be true. Behind those miraculous blue eyes her mind was going clickety-click. He had seen it before. Woah! Slow down boy. You've still got the advantage. So your cover's been blown - or about to be. So what. All is not lost. You've been backed into corners before. So come out fighting. Take away that advantage.
"How is Victor?" the question was spoken slowly, softly.
Her eyes went wide. Mutely she expressed her astonishment. Her throat constricted. It was an effort to speak above a whisper.
"How did you know?" The words were barely audible.
"It's my business to know." Grant was not abrupt. The reply was almost quizzically amused.
"Who are you?"
For a moment it seemed as though Grant had not heard. He drew upon the cigarette and then leaned to press it out in a tray. Finally he reached for his wallet, opened it, and held the card for her to read.
"Oh!" She was relieved.
"I got curious." He spoke with an abstracted detachment. "I said to myself, 'Matt, why is such a lovely girl traveling all alone? Why is she being so secretive? Why is she going to Los Angeles? And where is her boss?' " He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You don't have to answer, of course, but Matt is a very curious person, especially where it involves the underworld boss of Cleveland."
She shook her head, refusing to answer. Her eyes searched his face with undisguised relief.. . and fear.
Matt tapped the knuckle of a forefinger against his teeth, his gaze never leaving hers. Suddenly a slow, amused smile of comprehension touched his features. In those wondrous eyes he read something he had not noticed before. The girl was on the run! He whistled, a low note.
"You're in hot water with Rizzi!"
At the mention of Victor's name her eyes clouded and something close to terror was a quick shadow across her lovely face. She did not answer but her head turned to watch him as he stood up. For several seconds she stared blankly at him and then rose with him. "Take me out of here." Her voice trembled. "Please."
It was a plea. What was a man to do? He walked around the table and took her arm.
"My sister," he said brightly, "you know, the one with the two boys - told me about this marvelous little restaurant up the coast. Gorgeous view of the ocean. Candlelight. Very quiet - intimate." He smiled broadly. "If I remember correctly, you did say: 'I think dinner would be pleasant.'"
* * *
Well north of the Malibu colony, on the broad highway skirting the Pacific, there is an exceptionally fine restaurant, the White Horse Inn. The service is deft, unobtrusive, and the food excellent. In a corner booth, looking out upon a terrace rock garden and miniature waterfall with the broad blue ocean as a backdrop, Matt Grant sat across the table from Jill Foster. He turned the stem of the glass, holding gin and olive juice, between his fingers and regarded her with unconcealed admiration. There was an unflawed, crystal beauty here and yet, he thought, there was a mobility of feature which gave it light and shadow. This was no cold ornament of a girl, but one which held the fire and color of a fine diamond.
From Los Angeles International Airport, where he had rented a bronze Grand Prix, they had driven out Lincoln Boulevard, through Santa Monica, and onto the twisting Pacific Coast Highway. They had said little - a word, an observation, trivialities, a silence without constraint of the awkwardness of strangers - until he had swung into the White Horse parking lot and a few moments later were seated and the stemmed drinks before them.
Now she met his gaze without embarrassment. There was even a small, quizzical light of amusement in her eyes.
"Was this invitation tonight social, or are you being snoopy - a detective?" "I'm not a detective. You know that. I'm a Treasury Agent assigned to the Bureau of Narcotics. Also," his grin was disarming, "I try, whenever possible, to be honest. So maybe it is a little of both -snoopy and social."
She nodded, satisfied. "May I have another gin?"
He ordered again for them both and they said nothing until the waiter brought the drinks.
"You're still wondering, aren't you, what I'm doing in California without Victor?"
"Wondering possibly, but I'm not too upset about it."
"At the airport you seemed to know so much. Who I was."
"I collect odd bits of information," he interjected. "You're being alone was odd."
The small smile vanished. "Was your being in the Cleveland terminal just a coincidence?"
He nodded. "It was only another trip, until I saw you waiting near the gate. I couldn't make myself believe that you alone on the plane was a thing of chance. Someone or something was wrong. I began to wonder who and what." He studied her. "Why are you running?"
She hesitated over the answer as though trying to make up her mind whether to answer. Then her eyes met his with candor and she told him the story - all of it - starting with Jack's death. When she finished she was quietly shaken. It was the first time she had told it verbally, in uninterrupted sequence.
"That was an admirable thing, but not very bright. You could be in trouble. He measured the words, "You could get killed."
She lifted one shoulder with a gesture of indifference. "I suppose so." There was a small defiance in her gaze and then it dropped. "The word has a harsh sound."
"Semantics." He paused, needing time to thing the situation out, and then opened a menu for her. "Let's order."
"You do it. Anything will be fine."
He beckoned a waiter and ordered lightly; a salad and then small steaks, rare, and with it a bottle of California Pinot Noir. When they were alone again he finished the gin.
"What will Victor do?"
There was an almost imperceptible start of surprise. Then, again she was completely poised.
"He'll start looking. He dislikes initiative on the part of the hired help."
"What will you do?" The question was unnecessary and he wondered why he had voiced it. "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business."
Unhappiness was a brief shadow. "No, I don't think you're sorry. You're reaching for something. Oh!" The tone changed. It carried, now, the open simplicity of a child. "He'll get me. That is, if he is angry enough or really wants me back."
"You're frightened." It was a statement and not a question.
"Of course."
"Why did you leave?" he pursued her.
"I got scared. I found out a lot about him. About all the cruel, inhuman things he had done - is still doing. But I couldn't find enough evidence to pin Jack's ... murder on him."
"I know what you mean. I know everything about Rizzi, but nothing I can prove. I've wanted him for a long time. The Bureau wants him. One of these days he'll make a mistake."
"Did you think I'd help you help him make one? Is that why we're here tonight, together?"
"No. But, there was a fringe area I wanted to explore."
"In the first place I couldn't help. In the second place I don't really know anything. Oh! I know his friends, his associates, some of the people who work for him, but he is not a man who exchanges confidences. I was only a small cog in the complex machinery. I know he is a big man in a big and frightening organization. But, those are things you already know." She shrugged and they drank in companionable silence for the moment.
"Have you any plans?" he asked finally.
"No. But I've always made my own way in one fashion or another."
"I'll be in town for a week at least. I'd like to see you again."
"No more questions? No more talk of Victor?"
"I'll just be my charming, ugly self and you may grow a little more susceptible to my charms."
"I hardly think so in a week," she dimpled and her eyebrow raised speculatively. "At least I don't think so anyway."
"It has happened."
"Yes. Yes, I can believe that although I'm not sure why."
Two and a half hours later, relatively happy and contented, they left the inn and drove northward through Oxnard, Ventura and finally into Santa Barbara. The night air was warm and fragrant a moon gave the rolling Pacific a silver wash. She didn't ask where they were going and seemed happy simply to relax, leaning back against the seat, her shoulder occasionally brushing his with unaffected intimacy.
"Is Grant really your name? Matt Grant? I never knew anyone with the name of Matt. Is it short for Matthew?"
"No. It's just Matt. For that matter, I never knew a girl named Jill Foster."
He made a left turn off the highway on a street leading to the harbor. At the end there was a large rambling building with its windows softly lit. Beyond were a myriad of mini-structures. The car glided to a stop in front of a stylish sign of polished gold, its simple ornateness indicitive of the premises affluency: Playa d'Oro. Beach of Gold. From balconied suites of red-tiled motif spread a panorama of old-world Spanish antiquity; a grandeur that flowed like wild prismatic fire away from the bungalows of whitewashed adobe and molded red clay nestled among colorful scented gardens of hyacinth and hydrangea, and fanned out toward the restless sea.
Jill's cheek was resting against the upholstery. She glanced at Matt with a sidelong speculation.
"We'll have a drink, if you like," he said softly. "Some brandy and coffee. Then I'll take you home . . . wherever that is."
"I've never been here before. It's all so new and beautiful. I thought maybe you were motel minded and this was it."
"Suppose I am?" The car was barely moving over the cobbled driveway.
"I don't know." She answered without hesitation. "I really don't know. And," the admission came thoughtfully, "I'm not sure why."
"This is truly one of the world's great resort complexes, and I practically never get motel minded. But in this case I'd make an exception." He paused. "Damn it. This is supposed to be a vacation." He searched her eyes. "I'm tired of being lonely. You?"
She straightened up and with a quick, impulsive gesture brushed his cheek with the barest touch of a kiss.
"Thank you, Matt Grant."
CHAPTER TWO
Matt unlocked the door and stood aside as a somewhat apprehensive Jill Foster walked past him into the suite. They had had their coffee and brandy in the Playa d'Oro's plush Gold Bar, and, while Jill was freshening up in the powder room, Matt had made arrangements for one of the secluded bungalows snuggled into and completely surrounded by the beautiful gardens. These arrangements were elaborate: a suite of rooms that was one of the finest the Playa d'Oro had to offer - complete with kitchen facilities, a well-stocked bar (including a few choices of Mart's own)
a built-in stereo system, their own private swimming pool, and a magnificent, unobstructed view of the beach, yacht harbor, and the silver-washed Pacific.
Now, as Jill entered the suite's large living room, Matt saw her draw up in surprise and pleasure, then heard her gasp as she gaped at the elaborate decor and experienced for the first time the breathtaking view from the room's picture window.
On the left, the harbor and its myriad of yachts and fishing fleet blinked out their eternal semaphore of reassurance ... and to the right, some thirty miles away, the jeweled red, blue, green and white lights of the Channel Islands looked like rubies and emeralds and diamonds. A yellowed old moon was just beginning to sink beneath the western horizon, and its shimmering luminescence made it look as if a huge golden scimitar had been placed atop the sea.
She turned to him, face uplifted in pleasure, "It's beautiful, I never realized..."
"I'm glad." Oddly enough, he felt strangely touched by her genuine gasp of admiration for the view.
"Here, let me have your coat," he said. When she took it off, her dress gaped open, revealing delightful twin mounds of softly firm alabaster flesh straining against the interwoven brassiere of the dress's bodice. He fought the impulse to bend forward and kiss those warm, visible monuments to her femaleness. But he waited, suffering the hungry torment, feeling the hunger and anger growing in his loins as if they were cursing him for being a fool and depriving them of what they needed and wanted most. He carried the coat to the vestibule closet and carefully hung it on a hanger. Then he went back into the living room. Jill was standing by the window staring silently out into the night with a fathomless expression on her face. For a split second, Matt thought she seemed terribly sad about something or the other, but when she turned to him, a warm smile lit up her features. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, nodding his head toward the immense ten-foot-long, cinnamon-colored bear skin couch in front of the window.
Jill took his invitation at face value. She kicked off her high heels and curled up like a kitten in the corner of the couch, feeling the luxurious softness of its deep cushions, the absolute sensuality of the fur cover tickling her thighs and buttocks through nylons and dress.
Matt came back with two snifters containing imported brandy. He placed them on the low cocktail table before her, then disappeared again. A moment later there was the far-off sound of music, and lights began to dim ... grew dimmer, dimmer, until there was only a soft, barely perceptible glow coming from the fixtures in the room. Matt loomed up beside her in the dimness. She felt the cushion sink downward from his weight. He held out a glass which she took. No audible toast was made, they merely touched glasses together and silently sipped.
Jill's heart had begun to speed up its tempo as she realized that they were fast approaching a moment when she would have to make a decision about going to bed together. She became aware of movement on the couch, felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder, and an arm go around her waist pulling her closer to his body. She inhaled deeply and experienced a faint, unfamiliar but rather exciting odor of expensive, male's cologne. She allowed herself to be pressed close against a firm supporting chest and lowered her head against the gold buttons on the double-breasted blue jacket. . . felt their coolness, felt the sensual softness of the cashmere used to weave his jacket.
Matt felt her warmly resilient body pressed tightly against his own, felt the firm, wonderfully alive muscles of her shoulder beneath his encircling arm, and smelled the fragrance of her perfume and hair. There was a slight tremor to that body. "Are you cold?" he asked, feeling protective and concerned.
Jill lifted her head from his chest. Her slightly parted lips were only inches from his. She said nothing, but her marvelous blue eyes carried a message of trusting assent. Gently, very gently, Matt bent forward and touched his lips to hers. His body reacted to that first contact; it rejoiced with the sudden knowledge that this was going to be the best Goddamned night in a long, long, time. She was going to be good . . . perfect! And he'd make it perfect for her. He was going to play her like a flamenco guitar, bringing low and high notes of pleasure and fire and ecstasy from her .. . passionate, melodious notes that she didn't even know existed - notes she couldn't have experienced until touched by a master's hand. Whatever he did tonight would be good, as far as she was concerned, for he knew with a sure infallible instinct that Jill could be turned on if a man wanted to spend enough time building her up ... and he knew he would spend all night, if necessary, to make her realize what wonderful things could happen when a male and a female let themselves go.
Matt continued to kiss her gently, but there was nothing gentle or soft about the throbbing ache in his sperm-churning balls, or the rising blood that pounded in his rapidly awakening cock and caused hot tingling sensations to race like lightening across its swelling head.
Gradually, his kisses became more heatedly urgent. When his tongue sought her mouth, she opened readily to receive him. The soft strands of her hair tickled his ears, and they were surprisingly effective in intensifying the pulsating ache in his groin. Without removing his lips from hers, he took the glass from her listless fingers and put it on the cocktail table. Now that her hands were free, she immediately raised them and put them behind his head. She slowly moved her hand through his hair as though she were timidly fingering an expensive fur coat.
When Matt began to stroke the satin skin of her shoulder and upper arm, Jill reacted by sucking on his tongue with a force that surprised him. Although his motions were designed to be gentle and comforting, her fingers moving at the back of his head and her hungry sucking of his tongue increased in urgency. He abruptly became aware that her knee, which had been halfway on the couch before, was now pressed against his mid-thigh; it was almost as if she were opening herself to him. And Matt instinctively knew that if he put his hand down to her vaginal mound right now, he would find that her tight little cunt was damp, warm, and slippery from her fevered impatience. She was ready now, he thought; completely ready . . .
For a moment, when Matt had first taken her into his arms, Jill had fought a silent, but violent battle with her own conscience. She couldn't help it. She couldn't! A woman needed this. Her body demanded this . . . and it had been over a year since her husband had last made love to her . . . there had been no one else in all that time .. . She wanted to be loved. She had to be loved! For a moment while she was sucking on his tongue, she wondered what it would be like to take his warmly throbbing penis in her mouth. Well, that was out of the question anyway. She had never done that with any man, not even her husband, Jack, before he had been killed by Rizzi's hired murderer. Still, though, the thought had stuck in her mind like a buzzing, persistent bee caught in a jar.
The image of her doing that with her lips to Matt Grant had a tremendous and unexpected effect on her body. She could feel twitching, a hungering sensation deep within her abdomen . .. muscles that she hadn't known existed were making themselves felt and squeezing out a hot dampness from her vagina, moistening the smooth nylon crotch band of her panties . . . muscles that seemed to contract and relax in a maddening sexual rhythm. Her erect little nipples suddenly felt supersensitive under the rich cloth of her dress; her ripely full breasts seemed to be under tremendous pressure, as if they were being crushed, or conversely, about to explode. They seemed to cry out for freedom . . . for attention, and Jill fought the urge to take off her dress in order to be more comfortable.
Matt continued to stroke her shoulder, aware now that her excited trembling had increased, along with an almost imperceptible, sexual rhythm of her moving knee against his thigh. He let his hand slide slowly and lightly down along the length of her bare arm; he was rewarded by the gentle to-and-fro movement of her elbow against his navel. There had been a renewed quickening of breath from her in just the last few seconds.
Now was the time to begin the real preliminaries, he thought. He began sliding it along her back now, down, down, down, until he could feel the supple curve of pliant flesh where her buttocks began. She moaned for the first time when his hand rested there briefly.
Matt brought his other hand up across the top of her shoulders and then gently dropped it until his fingers were resting on the firmly upthrust mound of her breast. He began to rub in soft little circular motions. He could feel her nipple, hard and erect, beneath the cloth. Jill gasped and stiffened, then abruptly, her tongue tried to drive itself down the back of his throat. Grant continued the caressing, but now his entire hand was making a circular massage of the soft, pliant mound. He could feel her naked warm skin at the top of the bodice, could feel the impatience of her voluptuous young body, and then his lingers surely slipped down the slight gap in the bodice and cupped her softly heated breast in the palm of his hand. The feel of her ripened nakedness there caused some of his gentleness to leave him. His wildly aroused cock was hurting - hammering and pounding as though it were some errant jackhammer that had gone berserk. With the flight of tenderness, Grant took complete command. His hand grasped the fevered flesh of her naked breast; and his widespread fingers captured the erotically hardened little bud of her nipple and painfully tweaked it between forefinger and thumb. His tongue worked back and forth in her mouth as though it were a wet, headless little penis fucking in and out.
Jill was actually purring loudly, and occasionally excited mewling sounds of pleasure came from deep within her throat. So wonderful was that contact between hand and breast, that the didn't realize the zipper to her dress had been tugged down in back. Her first indication that this had happened came when Matt pulled her dress off her right shoulder to reveal her love-starved breast. His mouth pulled away from hers to begin moving slowly down neck and across shoulder; then, teasingly, his tongue quivered once like lightening against her painfully erect nipple.
She moaned in loud and joyous ecstasy when the warm moist oval of his mouth tried to enclose the entire fleshy mound. His mouth sucked, his tongue licked, his teeth nibbled. And now her left shoulder was bare too. She held his head at her ripely straining breasts as though he were a small child feeding, sucking hungrily as though it were his last meal. An exaltation swept through her momentarily, but this was replaced by the sudden realization that his warmly searching hand had begun a gentle, easy stroking of her sensitive inner thighs. She held her breath as his fingers went to the waistband of her panties, swiftly moved past the elastic barrier, and slipped down her tautly trembling stomach - past the sparsely curling strands of her soft, pelt-like pubic hair - to come to rest at the very top of her wetly heated vaginal crevice. Then . . . slowly and tormentingly ... his hand moved lower, middle finger extended to part the blonde, thinly growing pubic hair, until his outstretched fingertip came into contact with the hot, slippery little slit of her cunt.
Jill, without conscious volition, clenched her thighs together. She wasn't sure if she were doing this to keep him from going further... or if she wanted to just trap that wonderful hand up between her legs like that forever. But then that period of indecision passed almost at once, and she found herself beginning to tremble violently, while her low moans began sounding in her throat. Even above her mewls of salacious contentment, and the overpowering sensations his hand was bringing to her hotly quivering vagina, Jill could hear the small shrill protests of her battered conscience screaming at her mind and body. She did nothing because she knew it was already too late. She was incapable of moving away from his gently caressing hands, his warm wonderful mouth. Her love-starved loins and breasts had cried out for over a year to be caressed and touched and fondled. She loved the sure deft touch of his hand on her eagerly pulsating vagina; she loved the feel of the strange, bear skin couch against her own bare back and shoulders; she loved everything! And in spite of the lingering memory of her husband, she wouldn't stop him. Ever!
Grant slowly worked his middle finger into the moistly quivering passage of Jill's love-starved pussy. He used thumb and forefinger to tease the hotly pulsating little bud of her clitoris, playing with it, twirling it between the fingers, bringing loud mewls of ecstatic pleasure from her heatedly aroused young body which was beginning to writhe in lewd anticipation of things yet to come. Her breath was coming in hoarse gasping pants now, in rhythm with his middle finger fucking in and out of her wetly steaming cunt. She had voluntarily relaxed her legs and spread her thighs apart as if doing everything to help him. A part of Matt's mind stood off to one side watching her in amazement. God he had instinctively known she was easily aroused - at least tonight - but she was already so hot that she was practically crying for him to fuck her. She needed cock . .. and felt to him as though she would go out of her mind if she didn't get a cock and get one soon. She was long since at the point of no return; she was completely subservient to him now.
"Baby," he whispered, taking his mouth from the soft warmth of her breast, "I want you. I want to make love to you . .. to fuck you."
Jill stiffened momentarily at the obscenity, but then chided herself. She had heard the word "fuck" from Victor and from Jack, and had used it in mental conversations with herself, so it wasn't that bad! And then, as his finger continued to play an arpeggio of lust against her sensitively responding little clitoris, she relaxed again and forgot any protest. She sat, eyes closed in rapture, with naked shoulders and head pressed tightly back against the fur-covered couch, her thighs wide apart, her feet standing on tiptoe on the rug as she sought to raise her knees and give him freer access to the whole passion-hungering valley up between her thighs. She knew that her body was on the threshold of a new awakening - a discovery of an almost forgotten land where unimaginably beautiful things could bloom and grow. And so, when Matt asked her once again, "Do you want me to make love to you?" Jill had caught his head in her hands and pulled his face close to hers. She stared deep in his eyes, feeling her heart pounding as though it were some poor frightened animal trapped in a cage much too small for it, and she breathed, "Oh . . . yes! Make love to me . . . fuck me, darling. Fuck me." She moaned loudly and abandoned herself, giving herself completely to this man who was a veritable stranger.
Matt took his mouth from hers and leaned back from her trembling, ripely expectant body. His eyes feasted on the long slender legs and thighs covered by nylons, at the creamy upper thighs above the tops of her hosiery, at the yellow lace garter belt, and at her little white bikini panties pulled down just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of golden pubic hair above coral colored, wetly glistening cuntal lips where his finger worked at will along the slippery, moistly heated walls.
Then, abruptly, the young widow felt his hands move away from her body. "What? What..." she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes and saw Matt standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the awesome bulge outlined in his pants where his huge elongated penis raged against its confinement.
"Stand up, Jill," he said.
"What?" She didn't understand.
"Stand up, baby. I'm going to strip you naked."
Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then - actually blushing because she was going to have to be a willing participant and not a passive one - she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her dress - already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts were there, shining in the half-light; her soft nylon panties were rolled halfway down over her smoothly curving hips.
Matt gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had ever seen before could top this! His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, hoarse, choked up with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful." He took a step forward, kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure motion, put out both hands and peeled her filmy white panties the rest of the way down over her lushly rounded buttocks, down the unblemished ivory columns of her thighs and her long tapered legs. He gently lifted her right leg and disengaged her foot from the panties, then took them off the other foot.
His eyes focused on the sheer nylon-hosiery held up by the yellow garter belt and he decided to leave stockings and garter belt on her; the nylons would feel wildly sensual against his own naked buttocks when she wrapped those incredibly long legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked up .. . up ... up, past the tops of the hosiery, and saw the softly pouting lips of her cunt... all rosy and shining from her seeping vaginal juices. He thought about flicking out his tongue and licking her pussy while she was standing, but some instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch with her legs spread wide. Even though he had made the decision, he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, working his way from calf to thigh.
Jill stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge throughout her nakedly aroused body. She could feel the moist heat of his lips through the material of the hosiery, could feel the cool rush of air playing over her sensually awakened buttocks and breasts. For some reason or another, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came into contact with the naked flesh of her inner thighs and used his wetly quivering tongue to lick the inner part of her thighs from just above the point where the stocking ended to . .. to ...
She stiffened as his hotly tingling lips suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently tugging at her hips to turn her around . . . obediently, she turned and now his lips were moving over the lower part of her naked back .. . and then to her slightly trembling buttocks. His warm eager lips and kisses on her sensitively responding flesh had started things happening in her body. She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a violent rhythm of love ... as if his penis were already deep inside her cock-hungry cunt, moving in and out. Her straining young breasts had begun to ache, and her wildly-aroused body was beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
Jill had never felt so weak, so helpless before in her life. She stood there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Matt's lips left her buttocks and he stood up. He put hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him again. Their mouths crushed together hungrily, and his tongue fucked rapaciously in and out of her mouth. Then, still French-kissing, he eased her down onto the couch. She sat then lay back, face up, as Matt spread her weakly trembling legs in the position he wanted them, and pressed against the back of the couch.
Jill lay there, mesmerized, as the detective stood again and quickly pulled off shoes and socks, stripped off tie and shirt, and then dropped his pants and under shorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him standing there above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with unconcealed sexual hunger. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to broad muscular shoulders, from flat belly to thick rigid penis that stood out proudly, like a knight's lance, from his curling patch of loin hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to reach out for her. Its huge purplish head throbbed with an unbelievable virility. Once again she thought of taking it in her mouth and sucking, nibbling on it as he had sucked and nibbled so deliciously on her breasts. Her mouth, dry moments before, had begun salivating.
"Do you like it, baby? Matt asked softly, watching as her body twisted seductively on the bear skin couch ... as though she were trying to grind the fur into the shadowy crevice between her buttocks. "Christ, he thought, the way she's looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it.
"Yes ... oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's . .. you're beautiful."
Matt knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure infallible instincts told him that such a thing might be a little premature; later, definitely! But she'd have to be brought along.
Jill was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw him lower himself onto the couch beside her. His naked hip touched her rib cage, and she jumped as if seared by a branding iron. His head dipped once again to her painfully full breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then the other, into his voracious hot mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until Jill wanted to scream out in delight. Wave after wave of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire young body. She could feel it from nipple to toes.
Now Matt's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of lust between breasts and belly button. He kissed and sucked and gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where her hipbone served as an anchor for the supple flesh that flared out to become the buttocks, and his kisses rained over the sides of her ass-cheeks.
Then abruptly, the naked young widow was aware that his moistly searching mouth was coming back again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling between her thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, then teased a straight uninterrupted line to her pubic hair. He breathed hotly into the softness of the sparse blonde curls, and it was at that moment Jill realized what Matt Grant was going to do next.. . knew the target of his fevered lips and tongue.
"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No ... you mustn't."
Matt heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin inwardly because he knew now, positively, that she had never had this done to her ... for if anyone had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling between her open legs, his fingers pressing into the soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the thinly delineated little mouth up between them, all pink and seeping moisture from the pair of cuntal lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the shrine, he the pilgrim who had traveled a long distance to pay homage to its succulent warmth.
"No . . . Matt. .. please," she moaned. "You can't..."
"Baby, just relax and let me do it to you. This is one of the most fantastic things a woman can feel. I'm going to kiss and lick your pussy until you're begging for it!"
The salacious words and all they implied; the visual imagery of what was about to happen, caused Jill to begin shaking with a wanton, completely uncontrollable desire. She was about to be a participant in a degenerate act that was going to take place up between her helplessly spread legs . .. not only was she permitting it, but knowingly encouraging it to be done, because her love-starved, man hungry body was crying out for it. She knew that her vagina felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any minute. Shame, guilt, fear ... all disappeared under the tidal wave of a shameless lust that simply inundated inhibitions and morality. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it! His words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so completely at the mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as he did what he said he was going to do ... as long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness.
"Oh Matt..." she whispered, then lay back, feeling the bear fur scratching against her naked shoulders and tickling the sensitive cheeks of her behind. There was a movement on the couch, then he said, "Lift your hips." Eyes closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her expectantly quivering buttocks. Almost immediately, Matt began showering her tautly rounded belly with fervent kisses. His hot mouth moved hungrily up again to her breasts, then slowly down; his tongue flicking and quivering all over her upper torso. Jill was about to go out of her mind with lust and her hips had begun grinding lewd little circles around and around on the pillow beneath them as her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, Jill moaned, begging, "Do it... do it to me, please."
"Do what?" Matt asked, watching her lust-contorted face, feeling his massively pulsating cock about to explode from excitement. Christ, she was really turned on now .. . she was about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn't even started the preliminaries.
"Lick me . . . like you said. Suck me until I cum ..."
Grinning in triumph, Matt moved slowly and tantalizingly down her abdomen again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up higher and higher. Her pelvis making little up-and-down motions as though a starving animal were blindly seeking something. Finally, not even he could stand the intolerable torment any longer, so he roughly spread her thighs even further apart, using his thumbs to separate her soft, hair-fringed vaginal lips, and then without warning savagely rammed his tongue deep into her cunt.
"GGOOOOoooooddddDDD!" Jill screamed as his wetly quivering tongue slid into her further and further, and her shamelessly aroused body reacted with convulsive lurches. Her hands cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to rip it out by the roots. Seemingly, she was trying to pull his tongue, his nose, his entire face deeper, ever deeper, into her long-starved vaginal cavity. She heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. Above the sound of her wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my God! How beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn't this happened to me before? Why? Why? It feels so .. . so . . . wonder . . . fulllll."
Matt continued his voracious sucking and tongueing of her hotly quivering young pussy, his hands slipping up over her belly to her melon-like breasts once more, cupping and squeezing them continuously while his mouth and tongue slaved away with the fervent invasion of her widespread cuntal lips. The vacuum created by his voraciously sucking lips made obscene noises that seemed to fill the room, and Jill reacted to the lewd sound as if it were the music of love - as, indeed, it was. She clenched and unclenched her hands constantly in Matt's hair as his wildly searching tongue scoured the hot vaginal hollow, then began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her clitoris.
Jill shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the hotly quivering tip of it between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue made wicked, ecstatic little circles around and around it.
Jill's head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to side; her hips were thrashing up and down - around and around - as she sought to bring other erotic nerve endings into play with his moistly quivering tongue.
Grant made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with tremendous pressure, all the while moving his tongue downward along the warm slippery slit. He licked from clitoris to a point close to the anus, feeling her soft curling pubic hair teasing against his lips and cheeks: He tasted the rising need of her feminine secretions, the slightly building perspiration that brought tantalizing sheen to the crevice between her nakedly thrashing buttocks.
Jill's wails of passion had become continuous now; she no longer attempted to make sense . .. only moans, groans, mewls, and grunts came babbling out her throat. During it all her mind was screaming, "Beautiful ... oh, God! So . . . beautiful . . . so bea . . . uuuuuu .... teee .. . ful." And suddenly, somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was aware of a velvet electricity building up and moving - quietly and unobtrusively - like summer fogs creeping in from the ocean. Only this wasn't cool like the fog, this was warm and violent. She arched her body up, seeking to intensify that electrical feeling.
Matt felt her hotly throbbing pussy grind up greedily against his face and heard the sound of her breath increasing in tempo; he realized then that she was coming close to orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the knowledge. By God, he thought she's going to get the surprise of her life when she cums. The knowledge that he was licking her where no one, not even her husband, had ever licked her before brought new strength to his tongue. He began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, faster . . . faster . . . faster, burrowing his long curling tongue far up into her lust-dilated cuntal passage. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure when he swirled and flicked his tongue around the inner walls - the sensitive, pulsating interior lips of her vagina. She was coming closer, ever closer, and so he slipped his hands beneath her wildly undulating buttocks - cupping them in his hands as though they were some sacrificial vessel - and shoved his working wet mouth even harder up between her widespread thighs. He watched her face up between her ripely bouncing breasts and sank his teeth - not brutally, but savagely enough to bring a pain - into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again ... an unholy shriek of pure animal lust as her lips contorted back over the whiteness of her teeth.
Jill's wanton cries of passion filled the motel room. She had long since burrowed her frantically quivering buttocks down into the fur-covered couch - and she could feel each individual hair of it invading her buttocks, could feel them under her armpits, on the back of her sweat-slippery neck. If his tongue hadn't already been shoved deep into the hotly clasping interior of her vagina, she would have attempted to push the bear rug in there.
Abruptly, Matt dipped down and began shifting his shoulders - first the left, then the right. He had them under her widespread knees now, and began levering them up until they were draped high up over his shoulders. The entire expanse of her helplessly inflamed loins was now bared in naked abandonment to his wildly thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth. He thrust his tongue in deeper than it had, been at any time, and momentarily thought he could feel, with his tongue, the ending of her warm vaginal cavity and the hard protuberance of her cervix.
Jill knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she didn't care. Nothing mattered any longer except that wondrously fucking tongue which was carrying her to unsuspected heights of glory. Deep in her mind, a happy, ecstatic little voice kept crying out, "Oh Matt . . . thank you . . . oh, God . . . wonderful. . .good . . . good . . . ahhh . . . God!" She was peaking, rapidly climbing to that familiar pinnacle of sensation which she knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had been more wonderful than any she had experience before, and she knew she had long since passed the point of arousal where she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had never been this aroused before, and abruptly, the kneeling man began doing something that drove her ahead of him . . . higher . .. higher ... higher into the forbidden rarified atmosphere of wild, uninhibited wantonness!
Her smoothly rounded buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his wetly driving tongue, her pelvis had been whipping up and down with superhuman strength against his face, and her groans had turned to moans which had turned to shrieks of unexcelled rapture, when Matt slowly slipped his tongue out of her desperately clenching vagina. He made one tentative lick at her clitoris, which brought another shriek of delight from her, then began a teasingly slow downward licking toward the tiny puckered ring of her obviously virginal anus. Jill gasped at the first searing contact between wet tongue and sensitive anal ring, her breath coming now in huge gulping swallows which rasped and whistled through her lust-constricted throat. She took a deep breath and almost swallowed her tongue when her errant mind finally realized what Matt was about to do. Now her conscience really screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile and perverted. It was sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried out in dismay and protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had ground eagerly upward of their own volition so he could bring his tongue into seething wet contact with the tightly puckering anal opening.
Matt wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the little brown orifice and was rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her naked body as she raised her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him additional depth and working room. He licked and sucked and continually rammed his tongue into the tiny, rhythmically flexing hole which gyrated in wanton abandonment. Now, across his shoulders, her thighs had begun to quiver spasmodically and her heels beat a tattoo of rapture down on his spine and buttocks.
She was close, he thought, so goddamned close that he could stop right now and she'd still cum without another thing being done to her. Let her cum! Let her cum first by tongue, then by cock. His throbbing rod of flesh soon had to have relief or his sperm-bloated balls would swell up and explode. He began to drive his tongue harder and harder into her anal passage, all the while exciting her hotly erect clitoris with one hand and kneading her full firm breasts with the other. Abruptly, he heard her breath catch in what he knew was the beginning of the onslaught of a climax. Drawing his tongue out of her tightly puckered anus, he returned it to her saliva and moisture-drenched pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally fuck her while his nose scraped and rubbed her clitoris. That did it!
Jill writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until she no longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as nerves began shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in the area of her hotly pulsating vagina. The glow did not remain a glow for more than a second; it was merely the beginning of a fire and earthquake which began wracking her love-starved loins and belly. The earthquake moved rapidly up the scale, and suddenly she knew there was no longer any doubt about it. She was cumming! Cumming in his mouth. She was cumming!
The scream was unearthly - half-human, half-animal - and it ripped from her lust-contorted throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over end toward the jagged rocks. "I'm cumming .. . Matt. .. Matt.. . MATT! I AM . .. CUMMMM . .. ING!" She locked her hands behind his head and used every bit of muscular power to shove his wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and face further and deeper into her wildly convulsing genitals. Her love juices actually spurted out - as though she were ejaculating in his mouth - and then began to flow copiously from her throbbing hot cunt. The viscous liquid of love inundated Matt's face and tongue and, escaping his voraciously sucking mouth, began flowing down from pussy to wetly glistening anus, where it dropped against the pillow and gathered in a warm liquid pool on the fur-covered couch. She continued to wail in rapture as the mercilessly pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds it had gone, but now dimly within her body she felt the roaring tidal wave of sensation cresting and breaking over her. Her delighted, almost incoherent scream told the story, "I'm cumming again ..."
Surprised, Matt felt the naked young blonde widow's body begin twitching uncontrollably once more. The second orgasm had hit within seconds of the first. "Jesus," he said to himself, "she really was turned on." And then his surprise deepened even further for Jill obviously was cumming a third time ... all three climaxes occurring within less than a minute.
Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, he pulled his flushed, glistening face away from between her thighs and said, "Save some for me, baby."
Jill heard his voice from far, far off. The earthquake, the tidal wave, both were fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite, so perfect. She felt her legs being lowered from his shoulders, and, with a sigh of satiated exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let her head fall loosely back.
Now her hips were being lifted as the pillow was removed. Now, the fur was softly scratching her buttocks once more. But even as she did this, there was a velvet expectancy once again in the deeper depths of her stomach and vaguely she perceived that she was cumming again - only this tiny one was merely an aftershock, a little present from her body, a song, a memory, a poem to his tongue... small, but delightful.
Matt looked down at her sweat-streaked nakedness. She was taking deep, shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation. His apprehension returned again. She looked as if she had been fucking all night and was too tired to go again. He hoped her energy hadn't been depleted completely; he'd like a little life in her tight little pussy when he shoved Ins painfully throbbing cock into it. He lifted himself on his knees and moved up until he was over her body. "Jill... did you like that?"
She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping. The tears had completely inundated her eyes, and they were already flowing down her cheeks to splash on the bear fur couch. God, he had made her feel so vitally alive, so beautiful. .. and she knew now that she had missed so much out of her life in the past because of her own ignorance. Jack had wanted to do this to her once and, frightened, she had refused. He had never tried again. She sobbed loudly.
Alarmed, Matt asked, "Jill. . . is everything all right?"
Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming above her. She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both hands and pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in appreciation. She tasted her own cum, her own vagina wetly covering his lips. After a moment, she released him with the statement; "Oh God, darling, it was . .. was . .. beautiful." And even as she said it, she realized how impotent that word "beautiful" was when it came to expressing her true feelings. "Matt... I never realized anything could be so ... so ... " She couldn't finish.
Matt grinned in relief and satisfaction. "It's going to be even better because I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to put my cock where my tongue was a moment ago. It wants to fuck you ... I want to shoot my load of cum deep in your belly, baby, deeper than anyone has ever been before. What you just had was only the beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don't you?"
His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly coming back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter bewilderment that Jill realized her earlier hunger had returned tenfold. She wanted more of him, and so she told him using his own language, "Yes. .. fuck me . .. fuck me harder and deeper than I've ever been fucked before."
"Put it in for me," Matt ordered, lowering his lean, powerful hips toward her nakedly expectant body.
Jill paused a moment, then reached down between them for his penis. She found it immediately; it would have been impossible not to find it, as large and as hard as it was. She thrilled as her fingers wrapped around the hot throbbing flesh. She could feel every muscle, every tendon, every beating vein in that godshead. She enclosed it tightly in her fist, then stroked it, moving the pliant hot flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She was pleased when he moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and fingers; she wanted to delight him, to repay him some way. There were a lot of things she supposed she could do, but she had no knowledge of what he would consider dirty... or unacceptable. Besides, the heat was building up rapidly in her loins. Her heatedly pulsating vagina wanted his long hard penis in there - wanted it in the worst way! Even now she imagined she could feel it sliding down through her waiting slipperiness . ..
She stroked the thick bulging rod two or three more times as Matt's hot lips, still tasting of her own orgasm, came down again on hers. Then she guided the lust-swollen cock-head toward her wetly waiting vagina.
Matt lowered his body a bit more, and his massively erect penis tickled against her pubic hair. Jill pushed down on it and felt an indescribable jolt of pleasure shoot through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, searing head touched the sensitive, still-flooded lips of her pussy. She used the hot bulbous tip to draw little circles of ecstasy around and around her moistly quivering cuntal lips; she moved it up and down, feeling it push deliciously against her once again erect clitoris. She even pushed it down, downward until his massive thickness came into contact with her tiny puckered anal ring. She didn't leave it there for more than a split second; that was something expressively forbidden, and she could not let her mind dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it rapidly up and down her moistened fur-lined vaginal slit, feeling almost as if she were masturbating.
Matt was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his eagerly throbbing cock - sometimes rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly, questioningly, as though she had never been asked to put a man's cock into her cunt before and didn't know what to do. Once, he was almost positive she was hinting that he should push it in her rectum, but that impression had been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. Anyway, he thought, if my prick isn't in your asshole shortly, sweetheart, you can bet that I'll have at least two fingers pushed in there reaming the hell out of you! She continued to stroke him, and it was so pleasurable that Matt decided to put an end to it before she used up some of his strength. "Open your legs as wide as you can and put it in, now," he demanded.
Jill sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the tip of his cock at the opening to her wetly throbbing vagina. Although she wanted him to go deep and hard, perversely she heard her own voice saying softly, "Do it to me slow . . . and gentle . .. make it last forever ..."
Because he wanted it to be perfect for her - this first time, at least - Matt curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle.
Jill felt the head of his massively heated penis pressing in at her vaginal opening. Reluctantly, her fingers left the warm trunk of the wonderfully pulsating instrument. The pressure at her tightly stretched cuntal lips continued for a moment, then gradually increased in strength until, with a slight wet popping noise, the lust-swollen head slid up inside her. "Ummmmm," she crooned, "beautiful."
Matt felt the velvet warmth of her pussy enclose the head of his cock. It was much tighter than he had suspected, even though his tongue had scoured out the region just moments before. Then he quit thinking and let sensation take command of his nerve centers and body control. Jill had begun a slight little squeezing, sucking motion with her cuntal lips. She wasn't doing it on purpose; it was as though some genetic memory handed down through centuries of inheritances had told her wetly quivering pussy exactly what to do. To Matt it felt as though her deeper abdominal muscles had begun rippling, carrying his cock in deeper, deeper, ever deeper into the hot heart of her love-starved womb.
Jill, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feel planted on the couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained only the feel of his heatedly throbbing cockhead stuck about an inch into her wide-stretched vagina, she began to long for more depth, for friction, for movement, for ... for ... She put it into words, "Fuck me... " Using her feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips tentatively from the couch and discovered that the movement caused his desire-hardened penis to slide in another inch or two. "Ohhh, God," she chanted, " ... so ... wonder .. full." She dropped her hips and his thick male hardness slid out until only the heavily pulsating head remained buried between the lips of her cunt. She raised and the long hard shaft moved in further ... fell back, and felt it partially withdraw.
Amused, Matt grinned down at these first little movements which betrayed her intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself for his earlier stupid uncertainty over whether she had any energy left or not. Christ, he thought, she's got enough fuel left in that hot little pussy to put us both into orbit. Then, she pushed up her pelvis again, moaning this time in frustration, and Matt decided it was time to end the game. Slowly . . . very slowly ... he pushed his thickly impatient hardness inward. It slipped easily through the inner muscles, up through the warmly clasping walls of her vaginal passage, and pushed against the very entrance of her belly up inside.
Jill's eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture of the slow entry. She had never believed that a penis' first thrust could be so heavenly; but then, of course, she had never been so aroused, so lubricated before, either. Up ... up ... up into her it went. She exalted with each new territory invaded. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Matt was in his full hard length. She could feel the bristles of the short hair on his softly swaying testicles tickling her overly-sensitive anus. She could feel the massive cock-head buried deep inside of her, throbbing imperiously against her cervix ... could feel every fleshy, muscular little ridge of his maleness pressing against her hotly quivering vaginal walls. And over it all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and happiness.
Matt began to withdraw slowly, then thrust inward slowly again. He was moving in and out of her tightly clasping pussy with his eyes closed in deep appreciation. God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt that fit so perfectly around his cock. She was milking him with her inner vaginal muscles; One set worked on the heatedly throbbing head of his penis, squeezing it then releasing it, squeezing, releasing, until he thought he would go out of his mind; another set of muscles, somewhere in the area just below the inner lips of the vagina, were moving sideways back and forth against the sensitive under part of his shaft... ah of this going on at the same time she was rising to meet each of his thrusts.
Jill realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken over her body .. . and that was fine, because she was able to concentrate on feeling . .. pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt sphincter and abdominal muscles working, hips rotating up against his hardness, felt her fingers kneading Matt's powerful shoulder muscles ... felt all this, but did not will any of it to happen. Her body was alive with sure, independent motion; her brain could relax and let the incredibly wonderful sensations roll over it. Time simply dissolved into nothingness. She didn't know how long those slow, gentle, maddeningly beautiful, strokes had been plowing into her, but gradually she began to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, and put her request into words, "Fuck me harder now, Matt. .. fuck harder."
That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous - this fucking in slow motion, but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost making him cum through use of her vaginal muscles alone, and he really hadn't had a chance to get in a little energetic fucking yet. "All right, baby. You want it harder, you'll get it harder."
Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted them until her kneecaps were pressed tightly back against her tits. The attractive young widow's eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence; she had no way of knowing that this one particular position would add at least two inches to his thrusts into the heart of her womb. She felt a momentary twinge of embarrassment at the fact that her genitals were raised helplessly in mid air, but that faded instantly when Matt grunted, "Here it comes, baby." He pulled the wetly glistening shaft out until only the head remained locked between the wetly clasping cuntal lips; then slammed down, down, down - his long hard cock burrowing far deeper into her than her own husband had ever been before.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH," she screamed in sheer exaltation as his massive erection slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this deep into the center of her belly. God, he was in so deep that it, seemed the tip of his cock was lodged midway between navel and breasts. He was in further than she had ever been fucked before. There was almost seven inches of long, hard, hot flesh inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. Her vagina felt stretched beyond repair, filled far beyond its limited capacity. And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her deeper inner muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped and twitched against the glans, another rubbed continuously against the corona; and she thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight.
Now, clamping his mouth wetly down over hers, Matt began a slow, fucking motion between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new and previously unexplored depths of her moistly quivering pussy. The blunted head of his cock soon was master of it all, and with each jerking throb, it was a little cannon making tiny explosions which seared her soft, sensitive flesh. His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant passage, and every stroke - either in or out - brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her throat.
Matt, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into the naked young widow with a fury he did not realize existed. His hip bones crashed into the back of her thighs with each stroke, and his sperm-laden testicles smacked into the trembling white smoothness of her upturned buttocks like a battering ram. He wanted to hear her cry, "Uncle", he wanted her to know that she had been fucked as she never had been before . . . and, somewhere in the back of his mind; he knew he was accomplishing these things, and the real reason for doing all this was not egotism, but the desire to bring pleasure to her so she would want him to fuck her again and again.
Jill had long since stopped thinking about her dead husband and what was being done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of enjoyment, new sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the other. She found by clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring her clitoris into continual contact with that hard pulsing flesh pistoning in and out of her being. She had surrendered totally to this stranger lying between her open legs, and she unashamedly worshipped that hot part of him that skewered so wetly, so powerfully into her.
Her body was beginning to wantonly twist and writhe now, and her sounds became one long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth and worked her tongue deep into his throat. She was an animal, she knew she was an animal, and she loved being one. She was also servile, accepting anything done to her, relishing the taint of masochism in her soul, wanting more ... more .. . more than she was getting. She was the portrait of pure wantonness: face wrung with passion, nostrils flaring like some wild female mare being mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as cables, eyes hot and smoky with lust.
As if sensing her need for another new experience, Matt released her knees from her breasts; she immediately wrapped her long tapered legs around his naked buttocks and used her calves to pull him deeper into her. The federal agent slipped his hands down over her hips and slid them beneath the smooth rounded moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks. He cupped them harshly with each hand and began kneading them like bread dough as he fucked his long hard penis in with ever greater frenzy.
Jill subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles as his fingers dug deeply into the creamy, supple flesh of her ass. Her jerked her harder up to his massive, driving hardness, and she spread her nakedly trembling thighs even further, inviting him to do what he willed as the hot, moist hole of her cunt spread open in obscene welcome. He pounded into her with a fury, then - without warning changed technique again and began making smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly all the way out of her hotly clasping vagina before plunging forward again into her uplifted loins. It was then the young blonde felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on her ass and begin moving into the sweat-dampened crevice of her buttocks itself. His outstretched middle finger started to tentatively worm its way into her defenseless, tightly puckered little hole.
He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield reluctantly. "Ohhhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her nakedly straining buttocks in an effort to get away; the motion was hopeless, though, for his cock had her firmly impaled. The groan bubbled from her lips in pained protest as his extended finger continued its unnatural invasion of her rectum. "Eeeeeeaaahhhhh, don't . . . Matt."
He thrust even harder, and now she saw the cruel smirk on his handsome face as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of subjugation.
"AAAAGGGGHHHH," she cried, as her defenseless little anus received another thrust.
Matt, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the warm rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the quivering muscles in there which gave lie to her protests. She didn't know yet, but her body was really enjoying the almost brutal fucking he was subjecting her to. Soon, and it was only a matter of seconds, she would be begging. He began working his finger around inside, stretching the puckered little anal ring ever wider and wider as his mercilessly pistoning cock brutalized her wide stretched vagina.
Jill felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage, then it, too, was inside - working in unison with the first finger ... in rhythm with his rapidly thrusting penis. The deep guttural protests coming from her chest gradually began changing from whimpers of pain to low moans of new increased pleasure as her backside became used to this strange invasion.
Within seconds she was shamelessly grinding her anus back onto his fingers as he probed them methodically around in the warm, rubbery depths. New sensation of lewd delight rippled through her abdomen and up her spine. She knew she was hopelessly impaled and helpless between the hard driving rod of flesh buried deep in her womb and the cruel, merciless fingers that wormed in and out of her behind.
She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wildly abandoned wantonness under this double rape of her naked loins, when suddenly she knew she was about to cum. She fought her own body against the orgasm; she didn't want to cum . . . not yet. All this was too beautiful to end, to change. She tightened up all of her muscles, but that only intensified the hot all-consuming vibrations that were beginning to reverberate like a gong deep in the pit of her stomach.
Matt felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her wetly clasping vaginal passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. Beneath him, Jill had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhh," with each breath. The knowledge that she was about to cum caused his own excitement to build to a fever pitch; he wanted to cum with her, at the same time. There would be more later, he knew that for a fact; he felt he could cum a hundred times with her, could fuck all night, all day, all week - forever! And so, he slipped his fingers from her tortured anus, and quickened the rhythm of his pistoning thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring persistently into the hidden recesses of her pussy.
Jill's senses were rapidly leaving her now.
There was nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her loins; she was only vaguely aware of Matt's lips leaving her mouth to clamp hotly on her right breast, of the feel of his heavily swaying testicles hammering at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving across her abdomen to add additional titillation to her erect little clitoris. The pressure of the impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was death! She would die from it. This was it!
She punched her nakedly writhing hips up, seeking one last ecstatic thrust before the dam inside of her broke. His hotly throbbing cock was a huge battering ram slamming into the portals of all her sensitivity, and the vibrations from the blows made her tingle from every follicle of her golden hair to the tip of her toes. This all had to be a dream ... it was all to beautiful to be true. Then, gradually ... the dam crumbled and the wave of ecstasy was flooding down over her.
She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhh, God! I'M... I... I'M CUM . . . MMMMM . . .-INNNNNGGGGGG." She jerked upward once with superhuman strength, then fell back, wantonly convulsing on the fur covered couch. Her frantically quivering legs beat against the softness of the cushions, and her breath came in hoarse rasping gasps as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and wracked her ripe young body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one gigantic vagina ... cumming, cumming, cumming ... that every part of her was part of it, and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the sudden knowledge that the beautifully pulsating staff that had carried her to this peak of glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm far up into her quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.
Her heart, was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast and a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay homage to the heatedly throbbing shaft of love still buried deep, deep inside. She was fainting .. . perhaps even dying, she thought... then simply let go ... let it all go away ... and drifted, drifted into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now ... I know .. . " As for Matt? He stared unbelievingly down at Jill's nakedly unconscious figure. Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch occasionally around his pleasantly satiated cock. He honestly couldn't remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her womb, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts - things he really didn't want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her ... had wound up making love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude to her and that wonderful young pussy. Most alarming of all, though, was the knowledge that he wanted to keep her, to protect her from Rizzi and his like, to give her all the things a woman like her deserved to have.
Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his rapidly deflating penis from between her thighs, and it came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable river of their warmly intermingled cum.
"Jill," he said softly. There was no answer. Gently, he picked her sensually ripe young body up in his arms and carried her across the room, and into the bedroom. He placed her, still asleep, on the huge round bed . . . then covered her nude body to protect it from the cold.
Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down beside her, covered himself with the same blanket and fell asleep
CHAPTER THREE
In the early morning light, Jill Foster stood at the window, listening to the restless surf and watching the countless gulls soaring effortlessly and in freedom. She could hear the incessant breakers and the shrill cry of hungry gulls and sandpipers but she was not really aware of them. She was deep in troubled thought. A light off-shore breeze plucked at the sheer negligee, and she was totally oblivious of the lovely picture she made. Hers was a cool, poised beauty. Yet she was far from calm in her mind. There was the very real problem of what she was to do from here on, and she could not dismiss it.
She lit a cigarette and thought about the man asleep on the bed behind her. They were strangers, even though he had accidentally come to her assistance in a time of loneliness and need. He seemed honestly concerned and had released her from the bounds of a long suppressed sexual frustration that even she had not realized went as deep as it did. Last night had been wonderful beyond her wildest dreams, and she realized only now how much she had needed that love making - sex performed by someone who was a master at his craft. Never had she experienced such a fulfilling, rewarding feeling from a man.
Crossing the room she took her purse from the bureau and counted her money. Four hundred and seventeen dollars. It was far too nice a day to stand brooding at a window. She'd get dressed and have her hair done. It was a mess after last night and she wanted to please Matt. She wanted to return in some small way all the pleasure he had given her. At least it would be a start.
She showered and dressed, tailored slacks, sandals, a plain shirt open at the throat. Ruefully she realized things hadn't been planned at all well. The wardrobe she had packed was scanty.
Then, taking her bag she closed the door softly behind her, and walked out into the bright, warm sunshine.
It was an hour later when Matt awoke. Jill's absence did not overly concern him for he had been vaguely aware of her movements earlier as she showered and dressed. He was, however, curious. Besides his own natural curiosity, there was the puzzlement of the girl herself. He lit a cigarette, rubbed a hand across a stubbled beard, and padded naked into the shower. With him it was like that every morning. First the cigarette, then a shower to wash away the lingering cobwebs of the night before, and finally a cup of instant coffee. He turned the shower tap to hot, filled the coffee pot from the basin, and plugged it in. Carefully then, he adjusted the shower spray and stepped in. It had been a long time since he had felt this good this early. He began to whistle.
* * *
For a split second, as she entered the suite, Jill felt a deep sense of disappointment because Matt wasn't there to greet her. Then she heard him singing off-key in the shower. The edges of her mouth turned up in a small impish smile of delight, and the first zephyrs of anticipation were already blowing through her belly.
God, she thought, I'm acting like nothing but a bitch in heat. She wanted Matt; she wanted him now, right now! There was a vast loneliness aching down there between her legs. There really was only one question to be answered: should she play hard to get and act coy, or take the initiative?
She strode across the room and gazed out the window toward the harbor where half a hundred boats rode at anchor. They bobbed gently up and down; the motion was a completely sexual one, and the masts looked like thin eager penises jamming the womb of the sky.
Abruptly, the young widow realized her hands were shaking and her knees felt rubbery; the moment for action or non-action had arrived. She could still turn back. Her face dimpled in sudden decision, and then she was almost frantically removing shoes, yanking down hose, stepping out of her expensive, blue tailored slacks, and taking off her blouse and brassiere. She wanted to be naked before he finished his shower.
She stood in the center of the room, waiting for him. Her breasts had darkened, and her nipples had grown erect by themselves. She groaned as she ran a hand feverishly down over her pubic hair and felt the current of desire that shot through her. She flaunted her pelvis a couple of times and whimpered deep in her throat. .. like a bitch in heat, she thought again.
When Matt still did not put in an appearance, Jill bit her lower lip indecisively and then tiptoed rapidly toward the bathroom. She opened the door. The steam hit her with a warm moistness. Through the fog, she could see his muscular body outlined in the glass door of the large shower stall. He continued to sing.
Her eyes were flashing mischievously as she slowly reached out for the door handle. Then, quickly, she opened it and stepped inside. She couldn't have asked for a better set-up, she thought; there was the treasury agent, his hair all lathered up, his eyes closed . .. and not the least bit aware that someone had stepped into the shower stall with him. She choked back a giggle as she watched him - watched the white soapy suds running down his backbone to disappear into the crevice between his strong buttocks. Slowly, with a prankish grin on her face, she reached out for his long flaccid penis .. l Grant's first awareness that someone was in the shower with him came with the soft touch of fingers gently tightening around his cock. "What in hell," he shouted, jumping in sudden alarm and almost slipping. His eyes opened - a mistake, for the soap blinded him again almost immediately. He saw enough, though.
There, as if a dream had suddenly materialized, was the naked golden body of Jill, her harvest moon breasts already wet, and a stream of water running down her belly into her silken pubic hair. She was laughing at his reaction.
The surprised yelp came out of him, "Jill?"
"Who else did you expect? Racquel Welch? After all, I am supposed to be your wife."
He gasped, then choked as soapy water ran into his mouth, for Jill had begun to slowly move her hand back and forth on his rapidly awakening penis. A low groan of desire came squawking out of his larynx, and her delighted laughter hit his ears.
Jill stepped up even closer to him and, still stroking his almost fully erect cock with her right hand, put her left arm around his waist. She knew she was getting her hair soaked. Too bad, she thought uncaringly; the hotel's hairdresser had worked almost an hour on it this morning because Jill wanted to look especially nice for him. Under the machinations of her fingers, she could feel life surging into his desire-thickening penis; it was a terribly sensual feeling as the soapy water caused her hand to slip almost without friction from head to base of the huge rod. She felt lewd excitement expanding up between her thighs as the hard living thing in her hand grew in size. Now it was elongated, sticking out in front of him as though it were the long, white-skinned neck of a turkey. "Hurry up and get the soap out of your hair and eyes," she said, beginning to feel impatient again and jerking his cock a couple of times in emphasis.
Matt, who had been standing there with his eyes closed, let the wildly erotic sensations flow over his body. He could feel Jill's breasts and nipples pressing against his chest... but the best thing of all was that excruciatingly wonderful movement of her hand stroking his hardening shaft.
Quickly he rinsed his hair and washed the soap from his blinded eyes. Then he looked at her. Even barefoot, she was almost as tall as he was. Her eyes were gazing unfathomably at him, almost as if they were daring him. Her moistly full lips - parted in amusement and, possibly hunger - were only inches from his. He reached out, planted his sinewy hands on her flaring hips, and gruffly pulled her to him. The new position made it difficult for her pliant fingers to stroke his penis, so she contented herself with holding it tightly in her fist-clenching and unclenching her hand in time to the rapid beat of his pulse down there. It was a maddening tempo, one that she found echoed in her own belly.
Matt found his thoughts in complete disarray, but that did not stop him from shoving his eagerly quivering tongue into her wet open mouth. Her tongue met his, and teased and cajoled it until he was pushing it in and out of her mouth as though he were once again orally fucking her. They dueled this way for almost a minute, the water streaming down both of their faces.
Jill was the first to break contact; when she pulled away her breath was coming in short, puppy dog-like pants. She looked at her hand gripping his soapy, wildly pulsating shaft and then pushed down on it so the wet glistening head of the penis was touching the upper entrance to her vaginal slit. He shuffled forward just a tiny bit, and she felt the hot, lust-swollen head slide against her dampened pubic hair and soap-lubricated clitoris. She groaned as a shower of heated sparks shot upward from her suddenly throbbing vagina into her belly.
"Life is just full of surprises," Matt said, French-kissing her again. He felt the wild elation growing in him as Jill began sliding the hair-covered softness of her vagina along the top of his cock. She was tall enough that he could take her this way without undue strain on his leg muscles. She was obviously ready; he could put it in right now if he wanted. Her eyes were closed as her breath rasped out hoarsely.
She did something with her pelvis and inner thighs which caused her wetly swollen cuntal lips to lock like a hot fleshy vise over his long pulsating shaft; she held him trapped that way as she began moving back and forth again. It was almost as if he were deep inside her.
Amazed, Matt began running his hands up and down her soapy buttocks. He slipped his soap-slickened middle finger down into the softly yielding crevice and nudged her tight little anal ring. She jumped and her eyes fluttered open as he slid easily in almost all the way without inflicting any discomfort on her.
The sensation of his soap lubricated finger working in and out of her rectum startled Jill. It had shot a nefarious jolt of forbidden pleasure through her. Before last night she had not even realized she was sexually sensitive there. She felt a dull sense of disappointment now as he withdrew it. Matt was doing other things with those big, capable hands of his; they were all over her, kneading her firmly ripened breasts as though they were bread dough, tweaking the nipples, stroking her abdomen in time to her own body movements. She was afire down there between her excitedly trembling thighs. She wanted him inside her. She said it, and the obscene words spilling out of her lips caused a certain amazement to register in her mind. "Fuck me, please Matt..." she crooned. It wasn't so much a command as it was a plea.
His balls throbbed, and the blood had long since been pounding hotly through the thick veins in his rigid cock. Yet... he pulled his penis from between her tightly clenched thighs. "What's wrong," she asked, whimperingly.
"Nothing. Let's not hurry it though."
"I want you now." She reached for his lust-hardened penis enclosed it in her fist again, then began yanking on it in short impatient motions.
Matt said nothing. He merely reached behind him and got the soap from the soap tray. He used the palms of both hands to raise a lather. The hot scented soap was almost an aphrodisiac in itself.
Jill didn't protest when he began to lather up her breasts; she watched the white bubbly river run down across her navel and disappear down into her drenched pubic hair. Matt now was lathering up her abdomen and hips; his hands were gentle, and the electrifying sensations arched through her belly. Then he was using two outstretched fingers and the palm of his hand to soap up her vagina. She closed her eyes and moaned; her legs becoming so weak that she felt they couldn't support her any longer. Matt kneeled in front of her and used both hands to bring a white lather to her sleek inner thighs and legs. He ran his hands up and down her lower extremities as she hungrily screwed her pelvis toward him, wanting to feel his lips against her femaledom, but he avoided it.. . then began working his way up her backside.
A part of Matt's mind stood off watching him operate. It was obvious the girl was just about to go out of her mind with lust. He knew that the upper torsos of some women became mottled, almost as if they were just getting over a bad case of measles, when they are within seconds of a climax. Anytime this mottling occurs on a woman, an orgasm is almost inevitable ... no matter what the man does or doesn't do. And Jill was that color now.
Quickly then, he lathered up his eagerly throbbing cock and used his soapy hands on her abdomen. His fingertips brushed across the wet, softly curling strands of fleece up between her legs. He didn't pause there; his hand slid down even further, middle finger extended, and began caressing her wetly throbbing cuntal slit.
Jill's naked young body almost jackknifed with the maddening contact of his finger sliding through the already fevered area. She began to moan in wild, inarticulate phrases, and her inner thighs tried to trap his hand and keep it captive. Now a second finger was making a slippery, lust-inciting intrusion, while his thumb toyed with her throbbing little clitoris ... the fingers all moving in unison.
She had to have it. . . now! She was close . . . She wanted to feel that pulsating rod of hot flesh inside her, no longer content to be patient. "Please?" It was a craven croak of desire spilling out of her throat.
Grant watching her and listening to her, reveled in the feel of her warm, velvet-soft pussy and the vibrating arousal of her goddess-like body. God, he thought, she's the hottest thing I've ever seen. She really wants it; she's so fired up that she's about to explode.
"Jill, baby," he said very slowly, "Put it in for me."
Frantically, she reached down for his soap slickened penis and pulled it up between her legs. She spread her thighs and pointed the hotly-throbbing cock toward the hungry opening of her vagina. She snaked her other arm around his waist and pulled him forward, guiding the long hardened instrument toward her eagerly awaiting cuntal lips.
Her shamelessly aroused vaginal flesh opened and closed like a hungry sea anemone as she pushed forward with her pelvis as his thick shaft of hardened flesh sliced through her wetly clasping pussy and rammed deep into the soft milking interior of her belly.
"Ahhhhh," she chanted, moving her wet, nakedly glistening body back and forth, feeling his cum-bloated scrotum swinging and teasing against her straining thighs. She reached down for his testicles and gently caressed them as she wildly whipped her pelvis to and fro - sliding her hungrily clasping cunt up and down on the massively heated penis sunk so deep up inside her. It all happened unbelievably fast. "Ahhhh? Ahhhhhhhhhhhh? AH! Aieeeee. I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming ... Oh, God, I'm cumming," she screamed. And then the young blonde was really in a frenzy, with her pelvis slamming so hard against Grant's hip bones that it seemed certain something was about to break.
Matt's eyes had widened in complete surprise. My God, he thought, she had reached an orgasm within thirty seconds of the time his prick was first shoved in. He hadn't made one single thrust on his own part; she had done all the work! She swallowed with her mouth hung loosely open, and the sound of air panting in and out of her throat made almost an obscene noise of unmistakable satisfied passion.
Jill stood there, trembling uncontrollably, as the orgasm drained away her strength. She was forced to lean against Grant; there was nothing left in her body. She was sure she had lost consciousness at the height of the climax for she had slumped, and the movement had caused his thick rigid instrument to slip out of her vagina with a wet, plopping sound that could be heard even above the hiss of the shower water and the deep gasps of her breathing.
She felt an almost uncontrollable desire to go to sleep. This in spite of her mind swarming with thoughts like a disturbed wasps' nest. She knew what had happened; she had reached a powerful orgasm, and it had been just as if she had hooked into a high voltage line.
"Are you all right?" Matt was looking at her with some concern.
She closed her eyes and nodded. A moment later, Matt's hands were on her shoulders, turning her around so the soap would wash off. She was as obedient as a small sleepy child. Then there came the velvet-like softness of a wash cloth gently rubbing between her legs as it rinsed the soap suds from her still slightly pulsating cunt. She winced when the cloth - as soft as it was - accidentally brushed against her clitoris. The organ was overly sensitive now; any touch there was painful for the moment. Then the hissing hot water was turned off.
Matt began toweling her dry, treating her as if she were an infant being dried after a bath. The roughness of the towel began bringing a new life to her body; it felt, she decided, very very sensual. Warm, comfortable, and - for the moment - satisfied, she permitted him to do anything he wanted. She even stood on tiptoe to help when he rubbed the towel between the wet cheeks of her ass. She was all too aware that he still had his mammoth erection, and dully she wondered if he wanted to be "relieved."
Matt wadded up the towel and threw it into the corner of the shower. Then, without saying a word, he picked her up and carried her out of the stall, through the bathroom, and to the huge round bed. He carried her as effortlessly as a rag doll. Feeling like a little girl, she put her head against his hairy chest. She closed her eyes and gave herself to the sensation of his heatedly erect cock rubbing across her buttocks with each step he took.
The federal agent put her in the center of the bed and stood looking down at her. She still had her eyes closed, and her ripely full breasts rose and fell like the surge of the sea with each breath. It was incredible, simply incredible, he thought. All this - mine ... for now. Once again, he wondered about her. She didn't seem the "hair trigger" type, yet - last night she had cum quickly ... and had continued to reach orgasm after orgasm, each one building on the other. And just now in the shower? She had been there within seconds after he had pushed his throbbing hardness between her warmly welcoming thighs.
On the bed, Jill's eyes blinked open. She felt a great wave of tenderness well up within her as she gazed at the agent. It was something she had never felt before about any man. Those broad shoulders, that craggy handsome face, the fur-like hair on his chest. . . and that beautiful, beautifully long penis.
She wanted that penis. She wanted to kiss it - to pay homage to it. Never before had she wanted to take one in her mouth, but then never before had one brought her such sweet rapture. Still lying on her back, she bent her knees and used the balls of her feet and shoulders to slip across the bedspread so that his thick pulsing cock was directly above her pouting mouth; it hung above her like a hardened sword. She was amazed at her own boldness, and her words sounded alien - almost unintelligible to her - when she said, "Mister Grant, put your penis in my mouth."
His laugh rumbled out, "I'd love to have you do just that, Jill; but don't you think it's time to dispense with the formalities. My friends call me Matt."
Jill suddenly giggled. It was funny. But then she stopped giggling when the "sword" dipped toward her lips. She reached up and caressed it, feeling every powerful ridge beneath the taut skin. Her eyes feasted hungrily upon it; she was beginning to understand many things. This, she thought, was the real staff of life. Her eyes were hazy - "smoky," coming from the fires that were being kindled within her, and the huge throbbing god's head was already oozing love from the eye of the glans.
She licked her lips in anticipation, then cupped the bloated sac of sperm as though she were evaluating it. Her moistly parted lips kissed the underside of the moist head, and Grant quivered like a powerful stallion at bay. Then her wetly quivering little tongue lashed out, making maddening circles around the entire lust-swollen head of the penis. Her own nakedly aroused body reacted and trembled with a suppressed power. Sighing with pleasure, she opened her lips and moved her head forward so that the cock slipped into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. She began to suck on it, gentle little milking motions that came from an instinctive knowledge older than time itself. She thrilled to the residual taste of soap, his love secretions, and still another taste. "Could it be," she asked herself, "the taste of my own vagina?" And feeling as though she were somehow completing a circle of life, she took his thick pulsating hardness inside the velvet heated depths of her throat.
Matt's hands dropped to her hair and pulled her penis-stuffed mouth even closer to him. She had begun running her tongue along the sensitive underside of his cock, and the sensations were causing great thunderheads of desire to build up in his belly. "Suck it," he panted, "suck on it, Jill." He lifted his right leg from the floor and, without pulling away from her, placed his knee on the pillow alongside her head.
A second later, he was straddling her nakedly quivering breasts and kneeling above her face. He began jerking his loins forward in the age-old motion of fucking.
Jill cupped his rock-hard buttocks in the palms of her hands. She liked him in this position; it gave her a masochistic pleasure to know that she was almost incapable of moving her head in any direction now except up and down on that hotly pulsating shaft. She slavered up and down, instinct telling her to use her tongue and teeth against the head.
Grant slowly moved his pelvis back and forth so that her lips - like the voracious lips of a hot, hairless vagina - slid along the wetly glistening trunk. God, he thought in wonderment, nothing has ever felt this good before! She obviously was inexperienced in this type of thing, but the heat of her softly moistened mouth and the way she used her tongue was absolutely fantastic. He'd had blow jobs before from women; with Jill though, it was something else - something of a greater dimension. He knew he was going to cum soon, already his boiling cauldron of semen was beginning to seek avenues of escape. He put both hands on his hips and straightened his shoulders so he could look straight down at her as he sawed in and out of her eagerly sucking mouth. Her delicate pink lips contrasted with the angry blood-infused shaft which pistoned in and out between them.
Jill, lost in a frenzy of delight, was only vaguely aware of his saying, "Better stop, or I'm going to cum." She merely sucked harder, wanting to taste his sperm, wanting that boiling eruption to flood her mouth. Yet,.. ? What would he think about her? Reluctantly, she unfastened her tightly ovalled lips from around his desire-throbbing cock. When she looked up at him, Matt seemed twenty feet tall - staring down at her as though his head were somewhere near the ceiling. He was breathing rapidly, and she could see his stomach muscles quivering as he fought for control. She swallowed and forced herself to say, "Do you want to cum in my mouth?"
Matt fought a battle within himself. Yes, he wanted to cum in that wonderfully sucking mouth, but... at the same time ... he wanted to fuck her. Maybe, if she were willing later tonight, they'd get around to other ways. Right now, though, there was one thing he wanted more than any other.
"I want to fuck you," he said firmly, then added, "between the legs!"
"Oh, darling. Yes! Then do it now." Jill was amazed that the term of endearment was coming from her lips. She abruptly realized there was an unfulfilled feeling down in her hotly pulsating vagina; that feeling rapidly swept away all other desire. She wanted him deep inside her. she wanted him to be a part of her - and her to be part of him - both joined in fucking. "Now ... do it now. Fuck me, Matt." she repeated, and opened her legs wide to receive him.
Matt put his hands beneath her knees and pushed them back until they were against the pillow. Her tight defenseless pussy was revealed beneath him; the outer lips a darker than normal color from her intense excitement, the inner lips pumping out a viscous lubricant, and the erect little clitoris engorged with blood and ready . . . ready .. . ready.
Matt put the head of his wildly throbbing penis against the puckering wet opening of her vagina and pushed forward. His pulsating cock-head parted the still wet curls of pubic hair and slipped easily down through the two sets of sensitive cuntal lips.
"OOOOOhhhh," she crooned, and her eyelids flickered in rapture.
"You like that?" he asked, not really needing assurance, but wanting to hear her say it.
"Oh, God! . . . yes. It's beautiful."
Matt pushed in a bit further; he knew he had to take this in easy stages for the position was one which would permit him to go at least two inches deeper into her. Too rapid an entry would result in pain or injury. When he had gotten about three inches inside her, he began slow withdrawal movements coupled with tiny, controlled jerking of his cock. He felt a responding twitch from her heatedly clasping vaginal walls.
"Ahhh ..." she panted, and tried to rock back and forth on the shaft of hardness impaling her between her legs.
Jill could feel his scrotum tingling against her nakedly uplifted buttocks, and she reached down and around to fondle his balls with a fevered joyousness. Matt had begun moving in and out, and she was sure she had taken all he had, not realizing that he was less than five inches into her. She could feel the pulsating head of his thickened shaft pressing against her sensitive cervix, knocking at the door to her womb. His long hard penis - like hot iron had soft feathers - rubbed the rippling walls of her vagina.
"Oooooohhhhh," she wailed, for now he was going even deeper. "You're hurting..." she began but then she felt his pubic hair tickling against the back of her thighs and knew that he was in as far as he could go. Joyously, she realized she had taken all of him; they were a perfect fit. Now his movements became masterful, she could feel him in complete command of the situation, and so she lay there, grinding her full rounded buttocks around in tiny teasing circles, as he pounded in and out of her sensually awakened young body.
Her entire belly was afire as her mind screamed out its insane delight. She knew she had become a woman. She was really being fucked and she was responding as a woman - a hot, tempestuous woman, full of fire for this wonderful man.
Matt was aware that she was approaching another explosive orgasm. Her nakedly writhing body was fighting him down there; it was as if he had hooked into a mighty game fish that was attempting to dislodge the hook. Her pelvis jerked and revolved madly, but there wasn't much she could do because of the position. It was then Matt decided to hold back his own climax and see just how much he could do for her.
He clamped down on his sphincter muscles and began pounding into her with a demonic fury, screwing his massively throbbing cock even harder and deeper into her tight little cunt until it seemed her battered cervix would be dislodged. Her fevered passageways screamed for more, and the interior muscles of her madly rippling vagina clasped his plummeting shaft like the hungry tentacles of a starving octopus. Her anus clenched and unclenched as it seemingly sought to bite and devour his heavily swinging balls as they slapped in a ceaseless drum-beat of lust against her upturned buttocks.
Jill tossed her head from side to side, her mouth open laxly, and her eyes focused in disbelief at her own knees rocking above her head. "Ohhh ... ohhh ..." she said, with each mighty shove of his long hard cock into her. It was a chant, a liturgy of love, a song whose tempo speeded up as she felt her body taking over. "Ohhh ... oohhh ... OHHHh ... Ahhh!"
Suddenly, Jill punched her pelvis up with almost superhuman strength, and her legs splayed out until it seemed as if she were splitting herself right down the middle. The scream of delight bubbled out of her mouth, "I'm cumming... Ohhh . . . AHHHHHHH . . . Aaaalllleeeeee . . . I'm cummmmmmm . . . ing!" She groveled beneath him, her fingernails digging long bloody furrows down his back before she fell lifeless against the mattress.
Matt slowed his pace to the point where he merely bobbed in and out of her like the soft surgings of the tide. He knew he could bring her on again by continuing this gentle movement, and so he bided his time. A slow movement, gentle partial withdrawal; slow in, pull out. . . slow in . . . pull out.
From somewhere way out beyond the further most planet of her emotional solar system, Jill's errant mind began returning to her body. The wild storm that had arched through the heavens of her nerves had moved on; now there was only the voluptuous, almost hypnotic, movement in and out of her contentedly throbbing cunt.
Matt was aware of the returning sensations in her languidly stirring young body. Knowing she would soon be cramped by her present position, he released her captive thighs and pulled them down alongside his hips. She almost immediately lifted her knees and wrapped her long tapered legs around his thighs, her knees pressing in tightly against and partially around his slowly pumping buttocks.
Jill was groaning - not a sound of pain, but of guttural wonderment - and the sound reverberated like an organ note from her throat. Jill couldn't believe what was happening to her; she had reached some beautifully high, wind-swept plateau - a land of pure sensation! She was cumming again! She reached up for his head, pulled his face down to hers and passionately kissed him, grinding her tongue into his mouth . . . and then she whispered, "I'm . . . cumming."
This time her climax was different - just as powerful and strong, but more controlled. She found she could manage it - bring it along - play it and make it peak like a musical piece. But, only seconds later, she discovered that in reality his hot living shaft was the baton - that he was conducting the symphony of sensation - and she was only a player following directions.
"Oooooh, God, Oooooh, God! So wonderful... so goooood!" she sang, feeling unwanted tears welling up in her eyes. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, and pulled his hairy chest down into the soft voluptuousness of her breasts. She discovered that pulling him down against her caused his rigidly thick cock to ride higher against her clitoris. .. and a wild wantoness was on her again. "I'm cumming . . . again ..." she whimpered, and her nakedly orgasming body thrashed beneath his.
Matt knew that in spite of all his control he was nearing the end of his efforts. His sperm-laden balls had begun to throb painfully, and suppressed excitement had swollen his massive shaft until his urethral opening was large enough to take a pencil.
"I'm cumming ..." she screamed, once again, and her pleasure-contorted body jerked and twisted as though she were in throes of a seizure. Her face was twisted in a wild grimace of lust, and her mouth opened and closed ceaselessly as her nostrils flared like an untamed, wildly bucking animal's.
It was time, Matt thought, and he plunged his long throbbing cock up and up, deeper and deeper into the squeezing warm cavern beneath him. He let the sensations flow up his thick hot shaft where they spread out through the scrotum and overflowed into his belly.
Jill's forehead, face, and shoulders glistened with the sheen of sweat. Her breasts felt as if they were balloons being pumped full of hot scented air, and her vagina and uterus felt as if they were stuffed with thick electric eels, all throwing off electric charges . . .,and wiggling up deeper, ever deeper, into her innermost femaledom. She knew instinctively that each preceding orgasm had been like a higher step on a high diving board, that she had reached the top, and now there was a swan dive to be made into the warm waters of oblivion. There was nothing that could stop her from making the dive, and she knew Matt was suddenly fucking her like a mad man as he sought to join her dive.
"Cum with me Matt... cum ..." she pleaded. "Cum with me ... in me ... " She wanted him with her because she was giving herself completely to him . .. something no man had ever had from her before. "Cum . . . my darling . . . please cum . . . !"
And Matt, hearing the words, felt the dam gates slowly opening within him. He slid his hands under the wildly pumping cheeks of her ass and cupped them tightly - pulling them toward him for greater access to her wide-open and pleading cunt. He rammed into her with all his strength - wanting to give her everything he had and he could feel the smooth hot flesh of her tight little cunt massaging and sucking away at his rapidly expanding cock. He fucked into her, driving every last inch of his huge thickened shaft into the hot willing hole up between her legs. A cry started within her, and at first it sounded like the low moan of the Arctic winds blowing high in the heavens; the sound grew in intensity until it was the shriek of a typhoon leveling everything before it. "AllIIIIEEEEEEE ... I'M CUMMING!" She screamed, and it was the cry of a hawk diving from great heights. Her smokey eyes stared, unseeing, at things beyond both of them. Her frantically pumping buttocks waved in lewd abandonment from side to side, screwing her wildly quivering cunt up and .down crazily on his hard pistoning penis.
The naked young blonde's wildly thrashing body triggered his own climax. He could feel the velvet explosion beginning somewhere around the spine and it spread rapidly to his balls. Matt increased the intensity of his strokes so that his scrotum swung like an iron wrecking ball against the trembling walls of her buttocks.
Then he was there; its intensity frightened him for a moment, but he let everything go. Her arms had him in a deathlike grip, but he was still able to gasp into her open mouth, "I'm cumming . .. " Her words were almost incomprehensible when she panted, "Cum in me ... cum . .. dar. . . ling."
Matt heard the whimpering moan from her and her knees flexing and unflexing powerfully back against his driving ass, as she sought to assist him. With a low moan of ecstasy, he exploded inside her, and the white hot lava of his love erupted deep down inside the wetly pulsating depths of her womb.
His cock continued to spurt and throb for almost two minutes, then it gradually stilled. Deep inside her, he could feel her muscles loosening, the uterine walls deflating, the cervix returning to its normal position, and the vaginal lips twitching like the lips of a slowly dying fish. He opened his eyes and looked down at the girl; a soft, wondering smile was etched on her lips . .. she looked happy, fulfilled! He smiled gently as he watched the even rise and fall of her voluptuously ripened breasts at repose. She was asleep - so soundly asleep that she didn't even stir when he slowly withdrew his deflated penis. It came out with a soft hissing sound and with the stopper removed, a torrent of white, expended sperm began to flow like a river out of her gaping young cunt.
Matt pulled the spread over her perspiration streaked body. Then, still naked, he walked toward the window overlooking the yacht club and stood watching the sailboats.
Behind him, he heard Jill stir on the bed. One golden arm had come out from beneath the spread, and one delicious mound of breast flesh with its inviting little nipple that was uncovered. She was still asleep and apparently dreaming now, for there was a tender smile on her face as her lips opened partially and she whispered, "Matt.. . darling."
He watched her. She had surprised hell out of him, but his biggest surprise had come with his own emotions. It was one thing to want to fuck a woman, quite another to feel a need to protect her and to want to share things with her. Christ, he was really going to have to watch his step!
* * *
The Empire Room of the Play a d'Ora was crowded when Jill and Matt arrived.
Reservations, plus the fact that they were guests of the hotel, enabled them to be seated within ten minutes. Their window table offered a magnificent view of the sun setting behind the blue-grey shrouded Channel Islands. The English gin arrived in frosted glasses.
Then Matt was left alone with Jill, with only the soft hum of other conversation in the background. She looked very female - very beautiful, he thought, and then told her so. She smiled softly in answer. Her hair looked like a golden waterfall frozen in mid-flight. Her oval face seemed softer, her lips fuller, her fine eyes a deeper haze. There was just the faintest suggestion of color high on each of her lovely cheeks. That, he was pretty sure, had come from his beard stubble during their second round of love-making after Jill had awakened. Her inner thighs would be the same color ... for the same reason.
Jill, watching the candlelight dance on his face, thought he was the most handsome man she had ever known. She told him so; he grinned in reply. She couldn't get over how contented she was, how very secure and very complete she felt around him. She lifted her glass in a toast, "What shall we drink to?"
Matt pursed his lips, then shrugged his shoulders, "To drinking?"
"No, silly. To ... to ... " she closed her eyes, unable to force herself to say it. She wanted to say, "To us!" but that would sound possessive.
Matt saved her. "To the rest of the week. May it be as pleasurable as its beginning."
She nodded, touched his glass, then drank. She sat back in her chair - completely relaxed - and let the sensations wash over her. Every single pore of her body was alive and singing. God, she felt so alive! She could spend the rest of her life just sitting here, feeling this way. How much of it was due to sex and how much of it due to being with Matt, she couldn't say. She was pretty sure, though, that the two were inseparable.
By the end of the week, though, she was sure. And, so too, was Matt.
CHAPTER FOUR
With a cold viciousness which would have startled even those who knew him well, Victor Rizzi systematically ripped and tore every dress, suit, robe and gown filling the closets and chests in the Cleveland Heights apartment overlooking Lake Erie. He hurled bottles of perfume, creams and lotions against the bathroom's tiled walls. In the living room he jerked pictures from their hangings, stamping his heel through glass and frames. With a leg broken from a chair, he wrecked the well-stocked bar and tore drapes from the windows. He roamed like some enraged ape from room to room, bent only on destruction. His eyes were black coals of fury and the normally handsome face a contorted mask. He behaved as though everything he touched and ruined was the soft yielding body of Jill Foster. There was murder in him and he cursed with appalling obscenity, low in tone, terrible in meaning.
His vanity screamed at the incredible outrage. The bitch! Always she had made him feel just a little uncomfortable, as though the clothes he wore were somehow just not right, his speech coarse, his manners clumsy. Her controlled behavior had always put him on the defensive. She remained aloof and in complete possession of herself. She had made him unsure of himself, although this was something he never admitted. And he, the sucker, had been taken in. To him, she had been more than just a private secretary. He had taken her with him when he traveled. He had never touched her. He had treated her like a lady. There had even been times when he thought about marrying her.
The humiliation gnawed at him, and he felt his fingers tighten as though her slim throat were grasped in their pressure. And all that time she had played him for a sucker. Widow of a pig. A snoopy bitch trying to get the goods on him. Shit!
He searched the bar for an unbroken bottle. The floor was littered with glass. Finally he found some bourbon in a cabinet. He opened it and drank from the bottle, carrying it with him to a chair by the window where he could look out upon the lake. The drapes of soft yellow with blue threads running through lay in an untidy heap. He kicked them aside.
Where the hell had she gone? Back to Baltimore? New York? Florida? California? He permitted himself a small smile, he knew damn well she didn't have much money. He took another drink. All of a sudden things had started going to hell. He threw the bottle against the opposite wall. He wanted Jill Foster and he would find her. Then he would see to it that she would know such agony and debasement beyond her wildest imagination. She would crawl, scream for mercy, plead for relief, search a faltering and panic-stricken mind for escape. He would destroy her honor and pride; the haughtiness with which she had always maintained herself.
He felt better now and the thin lips almost smiled. Reaching back to where the telephone lay upon the floor near an overturned table he picked it up, listened for a moment to the humming tone and then dialed slowly. He needed to make but one call. From this the order would be transmitted, fanning out through a vast invisible web. The boss wanted something done. Find a girl by the name of Jill Foster. Find her and take care of her good.
In a small apartment off El Camino Real Boulevard in Santa Barbara, Jill Foster stood at the window listening to the traffic headed for a Sunday's outing on the beach or the stretches of sand along the highway which skirted the coast all the way to San Francisco. She could hear the rushing sound of motors and tires but was not really aware of them. She was deep in thought.
Those thoughts were constantly on Matt as she waited out the lonely period until he returned from Mexico. True, it was not as bad as it might have been after that week at the Playa d'Oro had dissolved much too quickly. With Matt's help she had found the apartment and a job which occupied much of her time, but it was not the same without him around. She had found work as a hostess in one of the many restaurants in Santa Barbara, which really wasn't unpleasant work - taking customers to a table, laying the menus before them, supervising the service. The restaurant was within easy walking distance of her small apartment and when the place closed at ten o'clock she liked to stroll through the pleasant quiet rural atmosphere of the neighborhood even though it was part of a relatively large city. She would stop at a corner news vendor and buy a late edition of the Los Angeles Times to read with her morning coffee. She took this time in her life for what it was, a period of stagnation. It would be different when Matt returned. It would be incredible, she thought, if she hadn't met him and her life was reduced to nothing more than standing by the cashier's desk near the door, a sheaf of menus in her hand and a welcome smile on her face.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jill Foster walked homeward in the soft night. Overhead there was a sprinkling of stars in the sky. She liked this walk home after the confinement of the restaurant. It was quiet and a pleasant feeling of solitude enveloped her. A light breeze ruffled through the trees and set the leaves trembling. She was conscious of the click of her footsteps on the pavement, crisp and assured. It felt good to walk, breathing deeply, lifting her face to the sky. She felt curiously young and light-hearted. She turned a corner; halfway down the block was her small apartment.
The car was drawn into the shadows, and she could see the figures of a man and a girl. The rear door was open, and the girl leaned upon it in a posture of misery. As Jill approached she fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The man stooped and was patting her shoulders with clumsy reassurance. Jill started to pass. This was none of her business. A quarrel, probably, or a girl in the sort of trouble girls sometimes found themselves. Yet the kneeling figure was so forlorn, so wretched looking, that she couldn't bring herself to ignore her.
"What's wrong? May I help?"
The weeping girl looked up, staring miserably. "Please."
Instinctively, automatically, Jill stepped toward her. The weeping stopped. The girl's arms closed about her ankles in a football tackle. The man grabbed her, one hand clamped over Jill's mouth to shut off the scream already welling in her throat. She was literally thrown headlong into the car with her assailant on top of her. She struggled, fighting with a desperate terror to free herself. Nothing she did could unlock the imprisoning arms and hands. The door slammed shut, striking cruelly at her feet, thrusting her legs and knees up in an agonizing fold. She was sprawled grotesquely in an awkward bundle on the floor. The man's weight pressed against her. She heard the motor start, felt the car roll forward and knew there would be no one on the dimly lit street to see what had happened. She made a savage attempt to bite at the hand across her mouth but the pressure was so relentless her jaws could not move. She felt herself suffocating. Then, the man, straddling her almost in a position of copulation, twisted her head around. She screamed silently within her throat at the sharp pain. For a moment she stared up at an unfamiliar face. The eyes were blank; no anger, no compassion, perhaps a touch of amusement. Then he hit her, using the side of his open hand like a cleaver to strike just off the point of her chin with expert precision. The world became dark, whirling void in which she was lost.
It had all happened in no more than a minute.
Some time later, she had no way of knowing how long it was, she clawed her way back to a dim consciousness. Her first sensation was one of horror. Sitting next to her was one of the ugliest men she had ever seen. Above a muscular young body was a fleshy face covered with pock marks set around a hawkish nose and eyes that were fathomless black coals. Jill tested her mouth and lips. They opened readily but her jaw was filled with an almost intolerable pain. She tried her arms and feet and found them surprisingly free as she studied the man's emotionless eyes.
Mario Diaz sat in the battered rocking chair that he'd pulled close to Jill's bed and stared at the motionless form. Christ but the innocent little bitch was built! Just looking at her was enough to make his balls. ache and his huge thick cock stiffen and jerk inside his pants. Especially the way she was lying now, her magnificently rounded breasts just bursting out of the wisp of black lace of the brassiere that set off their snowy whiteness, the soft pink flesh of her marvelously curved thighs displayed to him below the half-slip that had ridden up practically to her waist. Best of all was the glimpse he was getting of the narrow crotch band of black nylon up between her limply open legs that had parted slightly in unconsciousness. God, it didn't even cover completely her pink little pussy, and Mario stared with lewd pleasure at the thin golden patch of pubic fleece there. It sent a dull pounding ache coursing the length of his long rigid penis. God but he'd like to have his painfully throbbing prick up in her right now, ram it deep inside her time after time while she moaned and thrashed and bucked under him. And begged for more, too! By God, that would be half the fun, to hear this stuck up little bitch actually begging for more.
But the rule, Mario reflected morosely, was strictly hands off. No damaged goods. That was the rule and Mario was going to obey it, just because he knew what was good for him. Still, he sighed at the golden opportunity denied him, then consoled himself with the knowledge that such abstinence, such chastity was in a good cause. He would give almost anything to Victor Rizzi, but he was not ready yet to give him his life. But he wished the hell she wouldn't tempt him so.
Jill stirred. She wasn't sure where she was, or who was sitting there next to her by the bed. But his intentions were unmistakable. His lecherous eyes crawled over her like dirty little cockroaches, and she wanted to brush the terror off her body. With an angry gesture, she pulled her thin half-slip down over her naked thighs, wondering where her clothes were as she shot the horrible young man a withering look and saw with disgust the massive bulge under his trousers. She turned away in revulsion. When finally she turned back the lewd eyes were obscenely feasting on her body. "Do you have to sit there and stare at me like that?" she spat at him. When he didn't answer she slipped to the side of the bed and hesitantly stood up. "Where am I?" He still didn't answer. She crossed the room gingerly. Mario leered at her lusciously rounded ass-cheeks, quivering provocatively as she walked. He sucked in his breath with an obscene panting sound, then let out a long, low whistle, Jill spun around and glared at him. A cry that was half rage, half shame escaped her tightly pursed lips. "You're rotten! Just rotten!" She paused as her mind whirled, trying to digest the situation she was in, then continued. "Who are you? Who sent you? Victor Rizzi?"
"Name's Mario, but everybody calls me Dimples," he answered finally.
"Dimples?" she repeated questioningly. "That's a stupid name for a... a thug ... a ... " her voice became shrill, turned to a scream of fury "... a kidnapper!"
Dimples leapt to his feet and strode across the room. He seized Jill by her shoulders and his nails dug cruelly into the soft, tender flesh as he shook her savagely. "Nobody calls me stupid!" he spat. Jill squirmed and writhed, trying to escape his powerful hands, but he held her tight. She threw her head back, and spoke with an hysterical laugh. "Oh, you're so big and strong and brave, aren't you? Just like your boss!" she taunted him.
Dimples pushed her away from him, holding her at arms length. When he spoke his voice was cold and cruel. "Okay Miss High-and-Mighty. You've had it!"
"What do you mean?" Jill asked with a sudden fear that she had overstepped her bounds.
Dimples held her, motionless, at arm's length, and stared insolently into her small frightened face. "I mean I want you. Now! And I'm going to have you. Now!" He gave her a shove that sent her hurling across the room. She stumbled and fell against the bed. With one gigantic stride, Dimples was beside her, clutching her by the shoulder again, pulling her to her feet. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, "like you've never been fucked before." He gave a short laugh, his lips curled back evilly over his cruel, sharp teeth.
His hands shot out, seizing the fragile nylon material of her panties and slip at the same time. With one swift motion, he ripped the clothes from her, letting them fall to the floor. His hand shot out again; this time he tore the frail fabric of her brassiere from her fearfully heaving breasts, wadded it into a ball and tossed it across the room.
Holding the panic-stricken girl by one hand now, he struggled out of his own clothes. His shirt came first, joining Jill's brassiere in the middle of the floor. Quickly, deftly, he unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his pants, easing them and his cotton under shorts down over his hips. His massive, rock-hard cock sprang free, stiff as a pole, its bulbously swollen head oozing tiny drops of excited lubricating fluid. Jill gasped in terror. Good Lord, it was the hugest thing she had ever seen. Would he really try to put that thing in her? Oh, no! He couldn't. It wouldn't fit! He would kill her, she thought, ripping into her tender flesh, tearing it to bits the way he'd ripped her clothes.
Dimples followed her gaze downward as she stood, mesmerized by his huge jutting penis. "What's the matter?" he asked with an arrogant sneer. "Haven't you ever seen a real man's cock before?"
Jill stiffened as his hand slid down over her stomach to the gentle mound of her pelvis, then slipped between her legs to slowly crawl along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gasped, struggling to free herself from his lecherous, stroking fingers; but even as she did so, a tiny warming spark of unwanted pleasure burst forth in between her legs. Huge wet tears rose to her eyes and cascaded down her face.
She began to plead pitifully with Dimples. "Don't do this to me, please. Please. Ill do anything . . . ANYTHING ... if only you'll let me go. I won't tell anyone ... I won't..." she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "Oh my God! Please let me go!"
Dimples gave her a look of withering contempt as he shoved her naked body back to the bed, then forced her down upon it. In a moment he was on his knees, over her defenselessly trembling form, his cruel eyes filled with lust, his mouth twisted sadistically.
"I'll do anything," Jill whimpered. " . .. anything ..." her voice trailed off as the utter hopelessness of her situation sank in. There was nothing she could do, she knew, and tears, fresh and abundant, flowed down her pale cheeks now.
Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, she watched him straddle her nakedly quivering breasts, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees and saw the blood-fattened head of his huge penis thrust forward to press wetly against her tightly clenched lips.
He grinned lewdly and with his thumb and forefinger reached down and pinched the nostrils of her finely chiseled little nose tightly together until she couldn't breathe.
"Mmmmmmmmph! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmph!" Jill groaned desperately, trying to hold her breath as long as she could so she wouldn't be forced to open her mouth.
"Come on, baby, open up and get a little fresh air... and a big bite of cock!" he laughed cruelly, watching her desperately twisting face slowly turning a bright crimson from the desperate struggle not to breathe.
And finally, her lungs searing from lack of oxygen, her whitened lips popped open wide, sucking in great gulps of long-denied air.
"Oh no, now baby wants to milk a little cock!" Dimples mocked above her and then shoved his hotly pulsating shaft into her helplessly gasping mouth, ramming it down deep inside, until it seemed to brush all the way back against her open throat. The captive young blonde gagged and fought wildly to expel the rock-hard member that filled her mouth so cruelly, so unnaturally. She moved her head from side to side, struggling helplessly gasping for breath. My God! She would suffocate . .. she couldn't breathe . . . she would die!
Viciously, Dimples grasped her head in both hands and pulled it forward, as she broke free just long enough to suck in more of the cool fresh air, filling her lungs, panting with relief. Then the triumphantly grinning young man's lust-hardened pole sank deep into her mouth again ... in ... in .. . until the throbbing hot tip of it was brushing against her tonsils. . . and his wiry, pubic hair grazed and tickled Jill's lips, while his sperm-filled balls slapped lewdly down against her chin. Now he began to fuck in and out of her widely ovalled mouth with long, quick strokes; and Jill fighting revulsion, began to feel a whirling tide of masochistic defeat combines with unwanted passion rising in her that took possession of her body, leaving her helpless to fight against this obscene defiling of her cock-stretched lips. With an overpowering sense of shame she felt her own sticky moistness seeping between her now wide-spread legs, felt the warmth of it suddenly hotly flooding her pulsing pussy, felt the undeniable ache and throb of desire down there between her legs.
A sudden, alien sound startled her, and her eyelids fluttered open. She uttered a muffled cry as she saw the girl who had helped abduct her standing near the bed. A lewd, lascivious grin was spread across the young girl's face and her eyes burned with a look of hungering lust.
Without breaking the rhythm of his wildly sawing cock Dimples turned his head and snapped, "What the hell do you want Stella?"
"Just what you're getting," she answered coolly, reaching down to fondle the silk-soft golden strands of Jill's nakedly cringing pubic mound. "Just what you're getting ... a piece of the action!"
Jill moaned faintly around the thick pistoning cock in her mouth, then collapsed back in defeat as Stella suddenly bent forward, moving her head down to the trembling white flesh of Jill's thighs. The young girl began to kiss the tender skin there, making the sensitive nerve ends quiver with a strange, unwanted excitement. Jill moaned again and stiffened as Stella forced her legs apart. A moment later, the girl's hungrily kissing lips wandered to the tingling little triangle up between her thighs. The hot wet kisses moved down, searching out the fleshy layers of Jill's vagina. The young girl's moistly pointed tongue licked slowly and hotly at the pulsating moist orifice, then explored the narrow, hair-lined passage until it found the tiny coral bud of Jill's clitoris.
The tantalizing touch of the younger girl's tongue sent new waves of forbidden ecstasy crashing through Jill's nakedly receptive body, while her brain reeled with a dull horror at what was happening. God but it was wonderful! she thought, and yet she found herself longing to fight off this further obscenity, this further assault against her once-pure body. Yet she was powerless under the delicious ravishment of her shamelessly aroused body and could only mewl with muffled pleasure as she submitted to the overpowering sexual stimulation coming from the long hard cock ramming in and out of her wide-stretched mouth and the gentle caresses of the wetly licking tongue up between her legs.
Wicked and evil though it was, it was wonderful, too, and she abandoned herself to the wanton delight of the lewd act she was performing as well, running her tongue shamelessly back and forth over the ' sensitive surface of Dimple's hotly throbbing cock, teasing the tiny slit in its tip, licking the drops of sticky fluid that oozed from it, tasting it, savoring it as he jerked his hips forward and fucked deep down inside the saliva-filled warm cavern of her mouth. His massively thick penis throbbed against her ovalled wet lips like a heart-beat as Dimples rested for a minute to feel the over powering sensations of her soft warm mouth, then partially withdrew before plunging in again.
Now Jill's passion-distorted brain brushed aside all rational thought, all conscious knowledge of her slavish acceptance of her lewd position, and gave herself up completely to the ecstasy of being fucked in the mouth and having her hotly pulsing pussy licked at the same time. She lay still, concentrating on the sensations, thrilling to the crescendo of hot excitement that rose almost to the bursting point in her now drenched, wildly palpitating pussy. So intent was she, that the sound of several people entering the room made no impression on her. The trio, an older woman and two men, one young the other middle-aged, stood quietly and watched the doubly debased girl writhe in helpless, submissive passion.
Madly, insanely now, she sucked on the thick pistoning cock in her mouth; her cheeks of their own volition, contracting, tightening around the long fleshy staff that moved in and out between her tightly pursed lips like a well-oiled drill. And then, suddenly, Dimples' nakedly powerful body above her was seized with a violent, wild spasm, and his abruptly jerking penis sent a thick stream of milky white sperm gushing into her tightly locked mouth, welling up and over her fully pursed young lips like a cascading fountain of half whipped cream. Jill gulped to swallow every hot drop, her throat constricting and relaxing alternately, hungrily, like a famished child sucking at its mother's breast. Close to satiation, her brain deranged with passion, she mindlessly licked and swished her tongue around the now slowly deflating penis, clinging possessively to its long thickness with her elastically ovalled lips in a last desperate effort to prolong the joy for yet another instant. At last the young man pulled away from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, and reeled backwards, a thin, glistening strand of his sperm following him away and across the firmly rounded mounds of her naked breasts as Stella's long, pointed tongue fucked in and out of Jill's wildly clasping cunt.
Each quickening stroke of that quivering wet tongue ignited a new flame of rising passion that seared Jill's tingling young cunt, spreading to her quivering belly, shooting high up through her body to lick at her tender, sensitized breasts. She seemed possessed by an insane passion that blotted out all but the ecstatic pleasure of the young girl's hard driving tongue thrust again and again, ramming deep inside her frantically clasping cunt like a miniature penis. Suddenly Jill jerked and lurched, and a wet sticky fluid gushed forth from the walls of her hotly clinging vagina. She writhed and churned wildly as her eyelids flew open to the unbelievable sight of the younger girl's hand pumping voraciously into her own cuntal passage beneath her dress. Almost simultaneously, both girls began a weird, rhythmical incantation. "OoooooOOH! ooooooooOOOOO O O H H !!! I'm cummmMMIINNGG!! I'MMM CUUMMMIIIINNNNNGGGG!!!!!!!!!!"
Jill felt her own lust tormented vagina expanding in an agonizing spasm; the quaking wet walls of her womb seemed to explode outward, and the hotly churning liquid raced the full length of her dilated pussy, gushing forth into the passion-opened mouth of the younger girl and trickled in shining rivulets down Jill's madly twitching cuntal lips and beyond, into the soft whiteness of her thighs. With a loud sigh, Stella collapsed on Jill's voluptuously curved body which had already gone limp from exhaustion.
Jill lay still, thrilling to the numbing crescendo of forbidden pleasure that swept over her. So intent was she that the sound of quiet laughter made little impression on her. It was only when a gruff voice barked out "Shut up," breaking the silence, that she remembered where she was and how she came to be there.
Jill raised her head, recognizing the harsh voice with a cry of fear. "No. NO!" she whimpered at the cruelly leering face of the middle-aged man and his two companions - the younger man who had clipped her on the chin in the car, and a middle-aged woman who had the build of a wrestler and, Jill thought hysterically, looked like Yogi Berra.
"Yes, yes," Victor Rizzi mocked, striding briskly across the room to the bed. With one vicious gesture, he yanked Stella from her position above Jill's nakedly trembling thighs, tossing the young girl to the floor as if she were a crumpled, discarded bit of paper. "GOD DAMN IT! I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT HER TOUCHED!" he screamed, propelling a fear-stricken Dimples toward the room's only door. Secretly Victor had enjoyed the debasing he had just witnessed, but he was not about to allow these four pieces of shit to disobey his orders. "Get your ass outside and keep your eyes open," he hurled at the retreating figure of Dimples. "And keep your pecker in your pants! You'll get to make good use of it later," he spat sarcastically, then turned to the frightened girl on the bed, grinning maliciously. "Now it's time to make this pig's wife do a little crawling," he concluded with an arrogant sneer.
Jill stared into the cruel face, cowering her nakedness down against the mattress as if she might somehow burrow into it and hide herself. She closed her eyes and felt the tears oozing from under her eyelids and coursed down her cheeks. Blinded, she groped for something to cover herself. There was nothing. God, if there was only something to cover her, shield her defenselessly naked body from Victor Rizzi's lust and anger filled eyes that bored into her like bits of tempered steel.
A sudden movement startled her, and her eyelids fluttered open. She uttered a shrill, half-muffled cry as she saw Rizzi standing only inches from her head. He gave a short laugh, then with a sudden movement jerked his zippered fly open. A second later he reached in to bring his rigidly pulsating cock close to her mouth. "Suck it," he demanded lewdly, while the helpless young woman cringed as if she had been struck with a closed fist.
"Suck it," he repeated sternly.
Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, Jill's crazed mind screamed for help, for a way out of this terrible situation. Her eyes closed once again as she sought vainly for an answer. Suddenly it came to her, a single word, and she began to repeat it to herself, over and over again: Matt. . . Matt. . . Matt.. .
CHAPTER SIX
Matt Grant stood quietly among the grove of orange trees not a hundred yards from the ranch house, puffing steadily on the cigarette shielded in his cupped palms. He would have liked a good strong belt of bourbon to ease the early morning chill that clutched at his stiffening body through the thin coat. But it was impossible. Instead, he forced his thoughts back to a more immediate problem, letting all the pertinent facts fall into their respective places as he went over them for what seemed the dozenth time.
He had lain on the too-short sofa in Jill's small apartment, smoking and a drink at his elbow, waiting patiently for her to come home. He had wanted to surprise her so he had not gone to the restaurant. When she had not arrived by ten-thirty he had called and discovered that she had left the restaurant on time as usual.
He had taken the car, then, and traced the route she took on her walk home. Nothing! Returning, finally, to the apartment, he had placed a call to the Bureau in Los Angeles and learned to his horror that Victor Rizzi had arrived at Los Angeles International some twenty minutes before. Rizzi was being tailed, and he was told to stay put until they notified him of Rizzi's destination.
It had been a long wait - a pack of cigarettes and five drinks worth. When the call finally came it was not what he expected - he was right back where he had been before. Rizzi's car had eluded the tail somewhere near Ojai. Additional units, plus the local sheriffs office and Highway Patrol were combing the area, but nothing had turned up yet. The voice on the phone was still droning on when he slammed the receiver down. The drive to Ojai was more like a flight, and when he arrived it all seemed unnecessary, for he still didn't know where to begin to search. Slowly, meticulously, he combed the back roads of the county, leaving the town and the highways to the men who were more familiar with them. With only a description of the car as his single clue, he searched for over two hours, until shortly after three A.M., he had found the ranch house among the orange trees - and the black limousine.
Now, afraid that Rizzi might slip away if he went for help, Matt quietly waited for it. There was no way of knowing how many men were in the rambling old house, but he had to try. There were at least three, of that he was almost certain. There was Rizzi, his chauffeur from the airport, and at least one person to watch over Jill... if they had grabbed her. There could be more. He hoped not.
Slowly, then, he began to creep toward the house, using the orange trees for cover wherever possible. The going was made more difficult by the nearly full moon which illuminated the bare ground around the house for over seventy-five feet in all directions. He skirted the entire house from a distance and still had no idea in which room Jill was being held, for all the windows in the rather large house showed light to one degree or another. He would just have to take his chances. Deciding to use the back door, he crept ever closer to it, and heard the sound of a male voice, loud, angry, just off to the left of the door. Detouring for a moment, he moved in that direction, in hopes that he might glimpse a view of the room, its occupants, and a general idea as to the layout of the house itself. He reached the window, slowly inched his fingers along its sash, and cautiously peered through. What he saw occupied his thoughts for only a moment. Jill was lying on a bed, naked, with Victor Rizzi's long white cock sawing into her mouth. Rizzi had raised his hand to slap her with an open palm, but for some strange reason the sound of the blow came to him before it was delivered, like an old movie with its sound track ahead of the action. The sound, had not been that of vicious Rizzi, but the loud thud that had caught him just below the ear, Matt realized for only an instant as he slumped toward the cold ground.
* * *
"Hey boss. We've got a visitor," Dimples exclaimed, breathlessly, bursting into the room just as Jill received the second load of hot spurting sperm down her gullet in fifteen minutes.
A barely satiated Victor Rizzi turned in anger toward the huge ox who stood in the doorway, arms dangling like a gigantic ape, and retorted, "You stupid fucking slob, can't you ever do what your told. You're suppose to be outside!" "But... but I was. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I was outside and this dude comes creeping up to the house, so I bopped 'em," he said, satisfied with his achievement.
"What? You mean there was someone outside?" It seemed incredulous to Rizzi. "Where? Show me," he said, stuffing his deflating, sperm-dripping penis back in his pants and zipping them.
* * *
When Matt Grant finally clawed his way back to awareness the things which greeted his eyes made him wish he were still unconscious. His wrists and ankles had been securely tied to a heavy straight-backed chair and only his aching head was free to move. The room in which he was being held was the one he had seen through the window. Starting with Victor Rizzi seated across from him, his trained eyes took in every detail of the small room; a muscular hood stood near the door with his arms folded, while a young girl and middle-aged woman were straightening up from the bed where Jill lay.
"What the hell are you doing to her?" Matt asked, as he struggled futilely at the bonds that held him securely.
"There's no reason to get excited," Victor Rizzi answered. "It was my wish that the young lady enjoy herself. No cause for alarm, Mr. Grant, she has just been given an injection, another small dose of hashish oil. .. her second tonight, and she responded so favorably to the first that we decided to increase the dosage. Administered to the blood stream it has an immediate effect that will last for several hours and then vanish with no ill effects," he continued with a charming smile.
"You slimy pig," Matt spat. "You'll never get away with this, Rizzi."
"Ah, but I shall, Mr. Grant, I shall. I have made elaborate plans that will completely exonerate our activities here. Besides, you see, we've checked the grounds and discovered that you are quite alone. However, there is one thing that puzzles me. How did you come to find me?"
Matt Grant sat silently. "Now, now, Mr. Grant... do you mind if I call you Matt? ... I feel that I know you well. Now, then, Matt, it will be much easier if you cooperate. It will be especially easier on Mrs. Foster."
"You leave her alone!"
"You have the positions reversed, Matt. I am in command here, not you." His voice took on a sterner quality. "I'll ask you just once more. How did you find this place?"
Still no answer.
"Very well then," Rizzi continued, "you leave me no choice." He turned toward the bed. "Stella!" Go relieve Dimples. And keep a sharp watch."
Without a word the young girl left the room. In a few moments the muscular youth appeared.
"Now, then, Matt. For one last time I ask you to reconsider. Jill will be especially unhappy about this decision of yours."
"What do you mean?"
"How do you think she's going to feel when we start in?"
"Start in?"
"Yes. I promised myself that Jill was going to pay for her indiscretions." His voice turned cruel as he stared into Matt's questioning eyes. "She is going to be debased beyond her or your wildest dreams. She will not be aware of it immediately, of course, but you will. You are going to sit there and watch me destroy this little bitch for thinking she could double cross Victor Rizzi."
Matt turned pale and clenched his fists. "You can't frighten me that way," he said.
"Not now, of course," Rizzi said. "But a little later - when you hear her screams - then, of course, you might become a little nervous." He smiled sadistically. "We'll go easy at first. But then ..." he let his voice trail off.
"You bastard!" Matt shouted.
Rizzi shook a warning finger at him. "You said we couldn't frighten you," he said, in feigned surprise. "But if you're going to yell when we only talk about degrading the young lady, what are you going to do when we actually start in on her?"
Matt restrained himself, refusing to be taunted.
"But you mustn't worry," the gangster continued. "We'll only scare Jill where it won't be generally seen. You know, in her mind. Where she can remember it for the rest of her life. Of course, though," he said, reflecting on his words, "there will be some lasting physical marks." He leaned forward, his black eyes boring into Matt's. "Marks that only she will be aware of. Stretch marks. A forever stretched cunt!" Without taking his eyes from the bound law enforcement officer he addressed Dimples. "Show him your weapon Dimples."
The muscular youth responded immediately, unzipping his fly and extracting his limp penis which even in that state was larger than most when fully erect. Slowly he began to stroke the massive shaft of flesh, and it responded immediately to his manipulations, swelling and rising, until it stood out from his body like a large limb on a small tree.
Matt, who had never felt in the least inadequate with the size of his own organ, gasped in disbelief at the now fully erect penis. Its very size he knew, would tear Jill horribly, scarring her tender young flesh forever, etching her brain for life with its painful entry. In rage, Matt struggled against his bonds, trying to get at the noxious underworld figure sitting across from him. "You bastard!" Matt spat again. "You slimy, filthy bastard!"
In response, Victor Rizzi grinned and motioned to Dimples to begin, shifting his chair in order to watch both the girl on the bed and the totally helpless Treasury Agent in the chair.
Jill looked up with a start of pleasure when Dimples leaned over her, roughly forced her legs apart and moved one big hand down to trace the length of her hair-lined cuntal furrow.
Matt, watching a few feet away, let out a bellow that sounded like that of a wounded bull, and made another futile attempt to free himself.
On the bed, Jill rolled her eyes up at Dimples. He was such a beautiful young man, she thought. Her eyes slowly traveled around the room, taking in the faces that all seemed to be directed toward her. There was Victor, and Angie, and Emma, and . .. and even Matt. They were all such beautiful people. She smiled crookedly at the pock-marked face above her, squinting to focus on it. "Hi," she said, grinning widely.
"Hi," Dimples grunted, waving his hand.
Jill squinted dreamily at the others. Matt was here too. How marvelous! Everything was wonderful. She returned her gaze to Dimples. "Hi," she repeated the word coming out slowly, sensually.
In answer, Dimples placed his hands on the young naked girl's ripely upthrust breast, pressing his thumbs and forefingers against the tiny little buds of her nipples, rolling them into a taut erection. He felt his painfully throbbing cock jerk inside his pants as he anticipated the pleasure in store for him.
His hands roved down Jill's lushly naked body, caressing the firm flesh of her gently swelling belly, moving on to explore the mass of golden, sparsely curling pubic fleece up between her legs. Jill, transfixed in her drugged haze, felt a rising tide of passion surging through her at the delicious touch of the young man's fingers. Tingling with excitement, she sat up, mouth hanging open expectantly, and positioned herself on all fours on the edge of the bed. Her nakedly gleaming ass waved in invitation. In an instant, Dimples was on his knees beside her stroking her firm-fleshed thighs again, running his hands down the outside of them, over them, spreading them apart in a slow, methodical movement and finally moving his hands up and down the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
Jill whimpered in ecstasy, and then drew her legs together in shocked surprise as the morning air blew coolly across her wetly throbbing vaginal slit. Now Dimples' hand slipped closer to her pinkly glistening pussy, gently parting the sensitive fleece-lined cuntal lips while Jill closed her eyes and gasped with pleasure. She felt the surging desire flowing through her entire body, but converging there up between her legs was a wild throbbing sensation that was beyond her control, a desire that turned her narrow cuntal passage into a hot seeping cavern of moistness. She groaned softly, lifted her feet up, and placed heels far apart on the edge of the bed to present the whole of her naked pussy to all the lewdly gaping eyes.
Dimples' finger wormed tenderly into the heated pink wetness, and Jill's entire being tingled. He probed deeper, first fingering the fleshy lips, then withdrawing to find the hard, taut bud of her clitoris. He gently stroked that, too, until she responded with a sudden little spasm of pure delight and a sensuous grinding of her buttocks that was visible to all the onlookers.
She remembered them in some dim way, their faces merging with the bright colors and sweet sounds which were the setting for the marvelous sensations she felt, and turned her head to see Matt.
She loved him so much, she knew. But he seemed angry. Now why would he be angry? She searched her befuddled brain for an answer, but was unable to find one. Jill brushed the question aside, lying nakedly back now, as Dimples' finger eased gently into her cunt, probing deeper and deeper into her moistly welcoming vaginal cavern. She moaned and tossed beneath him, then with a sudden movement threw her arms up around his neck as she began to wildly rotate her hips against his outstretched finger.
She caught the sight of Matt's face again, bright red now with fury, with hatred, with disgrace. I'll make it up to him, she promised herself. I'll explain. And hell understand. Oh, yes, he'll understand. And we'll do this together, and Matt will know how wonderful it is, and he'll understand, and he won't be angry with me any more, and he'll feel just the way I do . . . just the way I do, she thought through the dim haze of her hashish aroused passion.
Jill held Dimples closer to her, but there was something wrong - something awfully wrong! She didn't know what it was at first and then it dawned on her that his body, which should have been smooth and glistening and warm was for some reason rough and irritating. She felt it again. He was rough and irritating and somehow dry and uncomfortable. She focused her eyes on him, puzzled, and then it dawned on her that he was still fully clothed. He shouldn't be doing that, she was sure. It spoiled the fun. She began to rip the buttons of his shirt, but when her limp fingers slid around them, she reached for the zipper on his pants. She found, instead, his already erect penis.
Clasping her fingers around the young man's long blood-swollen cock, she massaged it gently, moving the foreskin back and forth, back and forth, until his hardness grew stronger springing into a separate living thing, she thought in her drug dazed reverie. She gazed at it, admiring its gigantic size and its now rock-hard rigidity, staring unblinkingly at the small hole that was like an eye at the very tip of his penis.
"Oooooh!" she moaned, falling back on the bed, her legs spread wide, her heels splayed out over the sides of it, "Oooooh, Dimples!"
With a quick twist of his wrist, he pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt and let his pants slip down. He'd been kneeling, but now he stood, leaning over Jill lying limp and waiting on the mattress. "What do you want me to do, baby?" he asked coldly.
"Ooooh," she moaned. "Ooooh .. . you know!"
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do!"
"Tell me," he ordered.
"I want you to fuck me," Jill said, all inhibitions wiped away by the exhilarating effect of the hashish. "I want you to fuck me.
Dimples shot a quick, evil glance at Matt, who watched the scene in complete and utter shock. "Say it again," he ordered her, twisting the emotional knife one more time. "Say it loud so Mister Grant can hear you."
Matt wanted to hear her say it, Jill thought. But of course she would for him. She would do anything to make him happy. She would make him ever so happy when that time came. But now she would make him happy by saying it again. "Fuck me," she said in a low, passion-thickened voice. "Fuck me!" She heard a yell that sounded as if it came from Matt, but she couldn't understand why he would be shouting when she was doing what he wanted her to. Soon his voice died away and she forgot about it as Dimples, kneeling eagerly between her open thighs, used the thick, bulbous head of his penis to part the wetly glistening lips of her vagina, leaving the excited little cuntal mouth up between her legs completely open to him. Then, she felt his heatedly pulsating shaft slip along the entire length of her vaginal furrow where it teasingly parted the softly curling strands of her pubic hair and pushed against her overly sensitive clitoris. A jolt of pleasure shot through her. "Oh . . . ahhhhhh!"
Dimples' hands closed around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, and his fingers dug harshly into her soft flesh. "Put it in," he ordered.
"I'm .. . I'm afraid. It's going to hurt," she groaned helplessly.
"Put it in!" His words snapped out like a cat-o'-nine-tails, and she flinched as though he had actually struck her.
Jill groaned piteously as she felt his brutal fingers digging even deeper into her sensitive flesh. She couldn't stand pain like that and her own burning need. In desperation, she reached back between her legs and found his hotly throbbing hardness. It was so massive that it seemed as though she couldn't possibly wrap her fingers around it. But with that first touch of her hands on his living, pulsating flesh, she knew she had to have it inside her. He was going to impale her; she knew it would hurt. He would split her. She would die. And yet... strangely ... masochistically ... she welcomed this death. Just fuck me, she thought, and then tearfully pressed his huge bulbous cock-head at the defenseless little opening of her vagina. The huge youth smiled out at the spectators as he felt her trembling hand place his cock at the wetly puckering opening to her womb. He began a slow prodding against the elastic opening, feeling the softly yielding lips parting to accommodate him. Then the huge head was through the first layer of warm, all-enveloping wet flesh and attempting to force its way inside the tight restricting ring of cuntal muscle that jealously guarded the entrance to her deeper vaginal passage.
"Aaaaaggghhhh," she groaned, panting in pain. "You're hurting me. Stop for a minute ... please."
Now, though, with the feel of her warmly clasping pussy giving way before him, Dimples no longer felt any tenderness or inclination for mercy. He wanted to be inside her - all the way. He needed to be. He wanted to fuck her, had to fuck her! And the heat of animal desire suddenly shorted out all restraint in him. He took a tighter hold on her thighs and then lunged forward, while at the same time pulling her buttocks back toward him.
"Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh," it was a shrill scream of agony from Jill, as she felt his long thick cock slam through the hotly throbbing barriers of her cunt, ramming deeper, far deeper than she had ever been penetrated before. She was being split apart - ripped asunder! She even thought she could feel her protesting stomach muscles being ripped from their anchoring tendons. Another scream gurgled from her throat, but this was hashish-induced and sounded like the wild scream of exaltation of a mating cat.
Jul struggled vainly as she dug her buttocks into the mattress and lunging sideways in an effort to escape the brutal impalement. The giant pulsating penis was like some huge diamond-headed drill boring deep into the subterranean areas of her belly. She could swear it was in so far that it must be lodged up between her breasts. Her stretched-to-capacity cuntal walls were searing blazes of agony from the invading shaft of muscle and flesh.
Jul attempted once more to struggle loose, but all her efforts were futile, and she realized he had actually skewered her, impaled her on the end of his rock-hard cock like some helpless laboratory specimen on a mounting board.
She has an absolutely incredible little cunt, Dimples thought with delight. It was tight; the tightest he had in many years, but it was all velvet and heat in there. A proud pussy, with reason to be proud. She had deep muscles that were working on him now, even though she was still moaning and groaning in pain. It was a wonderful sensation, and if he didn't watch himself he would go out of his mind. Her wetly clinging pussy lips clutched and caressed the thickness of his cock, moving like an expensive, butter-slickened suede glove - or a warm wet chamois cloth around the full length of his hardened manhood. And because she would make him cum this way - without his moving at all - Dimples decided he had better start the fuck show right now or Rizzi, watching from across the room, would think he was a rabbit who couldn't hold back.
The subserviently kneeling young girl gradually became aware that Dimples was beginning to rock rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of her hideously stretched vagina. The pain was fading now, and she began to feel once more the buildup of pleasure. Her breath became more shallow, and it rasped in her throat.
"Go on ... darling ... go on. I love it." she groaned her ass sensually back against him.
Dimples heard her words and a feeling of supreme power and achievement swept over him. He knew now that she was responding to his hotly pulsating cock as he fucked in and out with long, steady strokes that had all the accuracy of a torpedo speeding silently through the warm vaginal seas.
Little explosive sounds of delight began coming from Jill's lips with each inward thrust of that implacable shaft of hard flesh. She could feel her sensually aroused body responding to him, could feel muscles and tendons and nerves all working in unison to bring him pleasure and her relief. She spread her thighs even wider, feeling her knees scraping against the wool blanket. She could feel everything about him now. The prurient little throbs his pulsing cock's head made, the twitching, his pubic hair pressed tight against her thighs. Suddenly she dropped from her elbows to one shoulder on the bed, lifting her firmly rounded young ass up higher in an obscene offering of lust. Deep, deep inside of her, the spongy hot head of his penis grazed against the bony tip of her cervix while her uterus expanded and contracted like the dark folds of some incredibly warm accordion. She felt the first barely perceptible beginnings of the fire preceding her orgasm. It was beautiful... so beautiful. She began working toward it, edging up to it so it would not run away like some frightened bird.
And then, abruptly, Dimples pulled completely out!
"Don't," she panted. "You can't do that to me. You promised. You promised to fuck me ... to make me cum."
Dimples raised up and stared down at her. A cruel grin of victory was on his face. "And I will. Now I'm going to fuck you another way .. . you'll be on top and I'll be on the bottom."
Jill felt a rush of greater passion as her drug-dulled mind finally realized the implications of what he was saying. She would be on top; she would be boss .. . she could bring on her orgasm at will.
Dimples lay down beside her. She saw his great long cock, throbbing away, shining with juices from deep within the well-springs of her own wetly grateful vagina. And because she wanted to and no longer had any inhibitions whatsoever left, she bent forward and kissed the rigidly heated length that had brought her so much pleasure. She licked it from testicles to purplish-red head before straddling him.
Dimples, flat on his back, had his hands behind his head. He watched her with amusement.
Finally Jill said, "What shall I do?"
"Sit up on my prick. Put it between your legs - let it slip into that tight juicy little pussy - and then slowly... sit down."
The drugged young blonde did as she was instructed, feeling the huge pulsating head once again stretching her moistly quivering cuntal opening. This time, however, there was no pain, only indescribable delight as it slowly sank into her. She played with it, tightening her pussy lips around it . . . making little movements of penetration . .. one inch . . . two inches . . . out a little, in a little .. . three inches. It was a ceremonial sword being returned to its rightful sheath. Her eyes widened once again in animal passion. And finally, no longer able to deny herself the joy of full penetration, she lowered herself completely on the hotly throbbing rod. When it was finally lodged all the way in her, she shook her head in unconcealed delight, and her long honey-blonde hair swung back and forth like a golden curtain blowing in the breeze.
She began moving up and down on the thick, wetly glistening cock, making slow movements at first. She experimented, then realized that she could bring her erectly tingling clitoris into contact with the warm hard shaft. Unable to control herself, she greedily began bouncing up and down on his lap, feeling the hardened male flesh pounding deeper, ever deeper into the lonely cuntal canyon up between her open thighs. Her naked young body began twitching and writhing in uncontrollable wantonness. She groaned in complete abandonment as the deliciously punching instrument sank to new, untapped depths in her rippling womb. Her face reddened and little moans of ecstasy bubbled out of her throat. "Oh... so beautiful, so wonderful. .. oh, darling." She bent forward impulsively and kissed the surprised young man, digging her tongue into his warm wet mouth, tongue-fucking him. Then she drew back, her eyes beginning to glaze again and her breath coming faster.
Dimples felt her deliberately pull her knees in tighter around his ribcage as she sought to increase the friction. Then, when he was sure she was once again about to reach toward the orgasm, he took his hands out from behind his head and grabbed the warmly thrusting mounds of her buttocks to hold her tight against his flat stomach.
"What. .. what are you doing?" she asked, still making little movements in spite of his unbreakable grip on her buttocks.
Dimples smiled. "I promised to make you cum. And I will. But first..." Even as he was speaking, his hands once again peeled apart the soft white cheeks of her ass.
Angie, the ferrety gangster, had walked quietly up behind them. He was completely naked, and his long thick penis stood out rigidly erect and ready. He stared hungrily down at the ripe full moons of her defenselessly quivering ass, at the exposed little anus, and then at Victor Rizzi for direction.
Jill winced in surprised pain and then screamed aloud as Angie took her by the thighs and brutally forced her legs farther apart. She screamed in fright, then gasped again as Angie's outstretched finger momentarily teased, then wormed its way deep into the puckered little orifice of her anus. In and out it ground, in and out, and Jill felt a searing pain that only moments later turned to discomfort, then to a strangely soothing pleasure, bringing an aching longing in drug-crazed body, a weird masochistic desire she knew in her heart to be wicked and evil. But she knew she could never resist, not when she felt such excitement and joy and sheer ecstasy in the act.
She groaned and wiggled her hips salaciously back as Angie's finger prodded and probed inside her tightly clenched little anus, widening it, expanding it, bringing a delightful, pleasurable throb to it that made her gasp for breath. Then a second finger joined the first, forced in with a terrible urgency. He began to work the two back and forth in the narrow passage; preparing it for the entrance of his already lust-swollen cock.
The smaller hoodlum was almost ready, breathing hard, panting over her nakedly kneeling body, and his fingers thrust in and out of her tightly puckering anus as if he no longer had control of them. Then Angie, like Dimples, before, demanded that she beg him, implore him, to perform this outrageously perverted act. "Want it?" he asked coldly, cruelly, as if she were no more than an animal to be debased for his pleasure. Jill hesitated, frightened by the sadistic tone of his voice, then said, "Oooooooh! Yes!"
"Yes, what? Tell me! Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you," Angie commanded.
"I... I... " But Jill could not bring herself to speak the vile words. "I can't," she wailed.
"Like Hell you can't," Angie said, squirming his fingers deeper for emphasis.
"P.l.e.a.s.e ..." Jill whimpered, trying to hold back her tears. "Please fuck me in the ass. Please."
"Why?" Angie asked, tormenting her still further.
"Because that's what I like," Jill said, and in her drug-crazed mind she thought it was the truth.
Angie twisted around, leering obscenely, while Rizzi shrieked triumphantly, "Hear that, Matt! That's what your precious girl friend likes ... a little asshole fucking. How about that?" He poked Matt, who groaned in impatient anger. "She likes to be fucked in the ass!"
Matt's attention turned once more to Jill, lying on the bed. Angie had pulled her naked young buttocks up to a kneeling position and mounted her as if he were a stallion, and now he took his thick, swollen shaft and wrapped Jill's tiny fingers around its hotly pulsating hardness. "Put it in," he ordered, guiding her hand down toward the hairless, rubbery little opening to her rectum. Jill, too terrified to resist, and with a drug-induced desire to comply at the same time, placed the tip of the lust-thickened instrument against her fearfully cringing anus. With a quick brutal thrust that this time brought a scream of pain from her, Angie popped the blood-filled head just up inside the small, tightly puckered orifice, then slowly pressed forward and forced the elastically yielding walls further and further apart until he was sunk deep up in the tightness of her painfully quivering bowels.
He began to ram it in and out, and the intense pain Jill had felt as he entered her suddenly blended with the intense humiliation she felt; both sensations gradually turned to an oddly rising sexual stimulation. She moved experimentally back against his heatedly pulsating cock, arching her body, thrusting her nakedly gleaming buttocks up and outward, rotating them in tiny teasing circles as she met Angie's thick hardness reaming out her rectum . . . then falling forward to impale herself on Dimples' massively pistoning penis lodged so deeply in her wide-stretched vagina. Oh, God, she thought again, as a helpless ecstatic moan rose deep within her throat, this was horrible, horrible .. . but, at the same time, wickedly beautiful to be used and simultaneously fucked in the ass and vagina like a common whore. There was agony and ecstasy, all whirled together in one great sensual moment, and she thought, in spite of her initial revulsion, that the last few hours had been just that, agony and ecstasy, and she had lived through the most sensuously exciting time in her life .. . and best of all she was sharing this joy with the man she loved, Matt Grant. Gratefully, she glanced over to him, and his figure went in and out of focus as the hashish-oil sent billowing clouds of uncertainty through her brain. For just a moment, she had thought Matt was tied to a chair; but that was impossible, no one could tie up Matt!
Angie's sperm-bloated balls smacked down hard against the slavishly kneeling girl's upper thighs as his thickly burrowing cock sank deep up inside her tight little rectal passage, pushing almost to her pelvis.
Suddenly Jill no longer cared about anything but what was happening to her tortured young body. Gradually a glow was building up back there in the buttery depths of her rectum; she recognized it for what it was - a promise ... a promise that shouted, "You're about to cum . .. work at it - work at it!" She moved frantically upward against his incoming sodomizing stroke, and then fell greedily forward to sink Dimples' hotly pulsating cock to the hilt in her cock-crazed vagina.
Then, as if by some secret signal, both massive shafts of lust-hardened flesh were moving in unison, battering into her - buffeting her nakedly writhing body between them. She closed her eyes in delirium - she was a love slave. Let them do what they want to me; I'll do anything for them.
Dimples knew the second she had totally surrendered to her brutal ravishment. He had known long before she, because he could feel her responsive little twitchings deep in her vagina. She was close to cumming... it would be a climax she could never equal again. She would simply pass out at the height of it. She was coming closer . . . closer . .. closer. He could feel her inner muscles suddenly tensing, could feel the uncontrollable twitching deep within her wildly milking cunt beginning to go insane. Her breath had almost stopped; her eyes had grown wide in stunned disbelief and fevered hope. He felt the first jerkings as Angie grunted once and began spewing his sperm deep up inside her rectum. He knew that had triggered her climax for her!
Jill felt the exquisite velvet explosion beginning in her body. She felt the hot throbbing of Angie's ejaculating cock deep in her rectum and knew he was cumming inside her there. The knowledge that the perverted act had already been concluded . . . and that she had enjoyed it... was the catalyst that set off the explosion. She was close. Very close. Almost there. Almost. THERE!
"Ah? Ah? UH? I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... , I'M CUMMMIING! Oh, God! I'm cumming ..." The first convulsive wave of joy and ecstasy wracked her body, and it was then, just before her fluttering eyes closed, that she saw them . . .Victor Rizzi and all of them - even Matt - looking hot-eyed and breathless at her and her lewd, unforgivable lasciviousness.
"I'm cumming," she screamed defiantly at them. "I'm cumming," and her nostrils dilated with joy. Her nakedly convulsing body moved in a whirl-wind of lust and fulfillment. Let them stare. I am not alone in my shame. I revel in it. I grovel in it. My shame is my joy. Share my joy with me. Cum with me. Cum all of you. Her body continued to pound up and down on Dimples' hard-driving penis and then, happily, she felt it, too, spurting far, far up inside of her. That ignited new and even more powerful stages in her orgasm, and she was jetting in free-fall toward the mysterious never-before realms of sensation. She came .. . and came, her voice shrilly crying out in wonderment and exaltation .. . until finally, she felt her mind drifting off. . . and she fell forward, in a swoon of passion, upon the chest of the man who had brought this joyous moment to her.
* * *
Jill had been repeatedly fucked into unconsciousness when the door to the small room burst open with an explosion like dynamite, and two uniformed deputy sheriffs were through it in an instant. With a smooth stride that seemed practiced and unbroken, they raised their service revolvers, covering the rooms occupants.
"Police officers! Freeze! Hold it! Don't touch that gun or I'll shoot!" one of them shouted as Victor Rizzi defiantly reached under his coat. The gangster's hand stopped. Then, every detail, every single movement was lightning-fast, and was over almost before it had begun.
Matt Grant sat quietly, rubbing his wrists, as his old friend, Sheriff Ray Ball explained the details; how they had found his car and the note he had left under the windshield. After that it had been merely routine.
Matt Grant was still sitting there, an hour later. Everyone had gone; the deputies, Victor Rizzi and his cohorts, Sheriff Ball, even the ambulance attendants with their gurney and its sheet covered, unconscious occupant. But Matt Grant was still there - alone, an empty spot where his heart once was, a moisture in his unseeing eyes as he relived, over and over, the horrible memory of this early morning. Finally, as the sun began to peek in the corner of the room's only window he stood wearily and left the room. He did not look back.