Living in a foreign country, especially when one is unfamiliar with the language, is difficult enough. When one is a woman, alone, helpless, and an illegal alien who is unable to complain to her embassy, it becomes even more difficult.
Such a woman is Teresa, the heroine of our book, who has separated from her husband, though her religion prevents her actually divorcing him. The man still lives in the Latin country she has fled, with her two sons. Although she entered the U.S. legally, Teresa has overstayed her legal time, intent on never returning to her country. She works and sends almost all her money to her sons, both of whom are turning out like their indolent father. One has already been forced to marry because he has gotten a girl in trouble, and the other seems headed in a similar direction.
Sex is something distasteful to Teresa. Her husband liked to drink a lot, and he almost never worked. So he was either home drunk, or home making violent, uncomfortable love to her, usually pumping in and out very quickly, with no thought to giving her any kind of pleasure.
Teresa has given up hope of finding love. Certainly she wants nothing more to do with sex. It is therefore ironic that in the very country she has come to in order to escape sex, she not only finds more of it, but discovers just how good it can feel. She also discovers what it is like to really love a man, and what seems like an unhappy situation has a happy ending.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
That Friday morning started out like any other morning for the red-haired woman who had just passed her thirty-ninth birthday. She worked hard seven days a week, never taking time to rest, the need to earn more money driving her harder and harder. Here, in the Estados Unidos, the United States, she was earning twenty times more money than anything either she or her parents had earned in the Latin country from which she had come. The trouble was, everything cost twenty times more in the United States. So Teresa kept half the money, and sent the rest to her son, who still lived in the country she had run away from.
She was fast becoming disgusted with her two sons. The older was now twenty, and he had been forced to marry a girl he had been playing around with, and at the age of thirty-nine, Teresa was a grandmother. The boy, like his father, knew no work, had no desire to learn how to work, and expected his mother to support him, his wife, and his daughter, for the rest of his life. She, like a dummy, continued sending money to him every month. She also sent money to her younger son, who was starting college, but whose ambition was plainly to sponge off his mother much the way his older brother was doing.
Teresa hadn't heard from her husband in more than ten years, ever since she had gotten her legal separation from him. Unfortunately the church forbade divorce, and she was forced to legally remain the man's wife for the rest of her life, though she suspected he was living with heaven-only-knew how many other women. He had been typical of the men in her country, treating her like chattel, making her do the work and living off her, then rewarding her with a painful entry into her body whenever it pleased him. It had always been wham-bam-thank you, ma'am, in and out in a hurry, making it an extremely discomforting experience for her, at best.
Teresa had married at the age of sixteen in order to escape the clutches of a huge family, where her father wanted to turn her into a slave as he had her three older sisters, and as he intended doing to her two younger sisters. Her older sisters had worked as maids for the wealthy landowners who lived on large estancias, or estates. She was also trained as a maid, but she had married and escaped her father's household, only to discover her husband was no less a tyrant. She had worked hard for him for more than sixteen years, taking time out to have two sons, and then one day someone had told her about the Estados Unidos and how a woman was able to make much more money, there. She had obtained a legal separation from her husband, and then she had packed her bags, gotten herself a passport, and had come to the United States, barely able to speak English. In the six years that she had been in the country, she had learned the language until she was able to speak it distinctly. Her accent remained, but it was slight. She was determined never to go back to the poverty she had left. At least here there were toilets instead of outhouses. A woman was able to shower or bathe, daily, and Teresa did so, two times a day. This was such a populated country, she knew that unless she accidentally encountered a person from immigration who demanded to see her passport, the chances were, she would never be discovered.
One day very soon she was going to stop sending money to her sons. One day she would build financial security for herself.
Her hair had been mousy brown when she had come to the U.S. so she had dyed it a bright red. She felt it made her look prettier.
She had deep brown eyes, a straight nose, and full lips. Her face was neither oval nor oblong, but just right. Her red-tinted hair, touched up every week, was cut very short, and she had bangs.
Unlike other maids, Teresa was not employed by an agency. She was so good, word of mouth got her more jobs than she was able to handle.
This particular Friday-through-Monday she was working at a local hotel where some kind of convention-or-other was taking place. She was one of the extra maids the hotel always hired for such occasions. They had to pay her a bit more, but she, like all the temporary help they put on, was more than worth it., Because she was expected to do double duty, Teresa, along with the other temporary help, was given a room at the hotel. Usually there was a special section reserved for the help, but that section had been filled up by the time she arrived, so she was given a room in one of the guest buildings, and though it was an opulent room, it was plainly for the guests who normally paid the least. There was one bathroom for every two rooms, and one had to lock the other bathroom door when one went into the bathroom to prevent the other person from walking in at an inauspicious time.
That Friday morning, when Teresa awoke, it was four-forty-five, and the sun was not yet up. She had to be ready by six, and so decided to take a bath in the sunken tub after completing all other bathroom requirements. It was a large, deep, oval tub against the far wall of the bathroom. Her mind was still a little fogged, and she forgot to lock the other door. She ran the water, then removed her robe, standing and looking at her body in a large vanity mirror across the room that was quickly being fogged up. Her breasts were not large, but neither were they small. Like the rest of her skin they had whitened since she had come to the U.S. Her nipples were soft, chocolate buttons surrounded by equally chocolate circles, and the way they seemed to stare at her reflection let her know her body was still firm and solid after thirty-nine years. She didn't have to do special exercises. Her occupation kept her busy, bending and stretching all the time, keeping her body firm and her muscles loose. There wasn't an ounce of excess flesh on her tender body.
Stepping into the bathtub, she sank into the steamy water. There was some bubble bath provided by the hotel, and she used it, relaxing and enjoying herself. The tub water felt so delightful and relaxing, Teresa almost fell asleep, her head propped against the rounded tile edge. She yawned, stretching, wriggling her toes in the deep, bubble-topped water. The tub was so big one was literally able to swim in it.
Doing a complete three-hundred-sixty-degree rollover, she stretched herself again in the sunken pool of a tub, keeping her face just above the tickling bubbles. Though the imitation marble from which the tub was fashioned was fake, as was all the other expensive-looking things in the bathroom, to Teresa it felt like true luxury. Using her toes, she twisted the brass-plated fish that was the hot water faucet, adding more to the tub. She enjoyed seeing her nakedness hidden beneath the heavy froth of white bubbles. The water was getting too hot, so she toed it off. She still had more than a half hour, and she wanted to relax in the tub for at least fifteen more minutes.
Abruptly, the other bathroom door, the one she had forgotten to lock, suddenly slammed open. A tall, somewhat heavy man, wearing nothing but skin staggered into the bathroom. He was tanned all over, and though he had the beginnings of a belly, he was otherwise fairly well-built.
Teresa gasped as the man staggered over to the toilet and stood there, emptying his bladder. It was obvious from the way his hair was wildly sticking out all over his head that he had just awakened.
Though she was unable to see his face, what with his back to her at the moment, she was almost able to visualize his eyes being closed. He was still half-asleep and it was obvious he hadn't seen or heard her. She remained very still under the bubbles, barely breathing.
The trickling sound finally stopped, and there was the sound of the toilet being flushed. Then he turned, and for the first time Teresa had a glimpse of the front of him. Facially he was hard to make out because some of his hair was hanging over his forehead, making him look like some semi-simian creature, though there was almost no hair on the rest of him, save for the little under his arms and on his pelvis. What astounded her, making her gasp loudly, was the semi-erection he sported. Even in its half-hard state, the man's penis was longer and thicker than anything her husband had owned.
The man was looking at her, blinking, unable to believe his eyes.
"What the heck..." he gasped. "It's the first time I've ever seen a bathroom come equipped with someone to do back-scrubbing. Who're you?"
His voice was still thick with sleep, but from the glitter in his eyes it was obvious the man was starting to wake up in a hurry.
"Please sir," she gasped. "I have the room next to yours. We share the same bathroom, and I forgot to lock the door when I came in here."
"Well I'm grateful for that!" the man said, yawning. "I really needed to empty myself."
"I would very much appreciate it if you would leave," she told him, noting that his penis was thickening and lengthening even more."
"Why?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the tub. 'This is the first little bit of pleasure I've had in a long time. I figured this convention was going to be a drag, but seeing you makes it all worthwhile."
"You are not behaving like a true gentleman," she insisted, beginning to shiver with fright. There was something almost terrible about the way the ogre was looking at her.
"I'm sick and tired of being a true gentleman," he told her. "Do you believe in lust at first sight?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked if you believe in lust at first sight. You see, I don't believe in love at first sight, but the moment I saw you, I became very much in lust with you. I know it sounds crazy, and normally I'm not the kind of man who chases after women. But you are special. You are really special."
"I-I don't know wh-what you mean," she told him, "but I would appreciate your leaving here so that I might be able to get out of the tub."
"No," he told her. "You look like a water nymph there, so delicate, so fragile, so absolutely delicious."
He stared at the white, rounded shoulders that shone as the soap bubbles slid off them, and though he was unable to see her body, he was already imagining what lay beneath all that foam. She had an exceptional face as far as he was concerned, and it disturbed him to think that some other conventioneer might be wedded to this lovely creature and was going to use her body. To think, some other slob would be sliding into her, using her, enjoying her. Yet the instant he had seen her he had felt something very strongly tug at him. It had happened twice before in his lifetime. The first time was the night of his high school graduation, where he had seen a girl standing by herself in the halls of the high school. He had walked over to her, talked to her, and had agreed to meet her when the graduation ceremony was over. They had gone out in his car, and afterward, he had brought her to his father's house where he had banged the ass off her. They had gone together for more than four years after that. After a silly argument, she had gotten "even" with him by marrying someone else. The second time had been when he had seen his wife. He had gone to bed with her less than five minutes after meeting her, and he had married her the next day. Unfortunately his wife was attracted to men other than himself, and though he was still married, and he still liked her, he had to accept the fact that she would never be a one-man woman. He no longer lived with his wife, though they occasionally did sleep together, and he still loved every moment of it.
Now here was the same feeling, happening to him for the third time in his life. He wanted this woman.
"Please sir," Teresa pleaded. "I have to be out of here and dressed in a little while. Otherwise I'll lose my job."
"You work here?" he asked, and she nodded. "What time d'you have to start working?"
"At six," she told him. "So please leave and permit me to get out of here."
"Oh no!" he told her, and he swung his feet over, dipping them in the tub. "Move over, honey. You and I are going to swim together for a little while."
"No ... you can't... sir ... don't... please ..." Teresa gasped, horrified, staring with terror gripping her heart as the man's feet touched hers when he splashed them into the tub. He looked like such a grotesque monster. With almost no hair to cover him his body looked more frightening than ever to the poor woman. Most men looked bigger with their clothes on, but here was a man who looked almost like a hulking brute stark naked, his large biceps and triceps swelling, even his pectorals bulging. If there was a slight heaviness to his stomach, it was still a lot less than the gut her husband had grown over the years. His thighs rippled with bunches of muscles, and as he slid down next to her, facing her, she edged away to the far corner of the tub, frightened of the massive penis he was sporting. She was already scrambling up, trying to cling to the cold imitation marble in the corner.
"How dare you ..." she gasped. "Who are you to try and do this terrible thing to me?"
"I am called Martin," he told her. "And I am crazy about you. And now that I see you, I've decided that before I leave here, I have to have you."
Martin stopped speaking. He stared for a long, long time looking at the beautiful nakedness of the incredibly lovely body of the woman as it scampered away from him, fearfully clinging to the walls, her eyes wide with terror and anger. Foam clung in fluffy streaks to her high, rounded breasts, dripping down her flat belly and silkily curved wet hips and beautiful loins. He saw her pubic hair was darker than the red hair on her head and smiled at her vanity. She was an absolutely delightful sight, someone about whom he had been dreaming for a long, long time. In his eyes she was perfection, and he was certain she must be some kind of a dream since no woman in real life looked that good ... from her tangled red bangs shading those wide-open, black-lashed brown eyes, to the slenderhess of her lovely ankles still hidden beneath the white bubbles in the tub. She had the kind of body that he was certain had drawn him to the room he had taken. As one of the ten foremost architects in the country, he had his choice of the finest hotel suites, yet something had told him not to waste his money on an expensive room this time around. Now he was glad he had listened to the little voice inside him. She was the most stunning female he had seen in ages. Martin Roth had often had an opportunity to sleep with many different women, and he occasionally took advantage of the many offers made to him. Yet not one of the women came close to the perfection he found in this particular female, and he was damned if he would let her get away from him so easily.
The wetly heated glowing reality of this fantastic woman nakedly staring at him was too much.
"What's your name?" he asked.
T-Teresa," she gasped. "Please... please sir, for the love of God leave me alone," she pleaded, her eyes darting to the side as he stood up in the tub. She was sidling along the wall, looking for some kind of escape.
Martin laughed again, his wide-awake eyes narrowing in anticipation as he closed in on her. She put both hands up to ward him off, and he grabbed her two wrists and pinned her against the corner, so that her right shoulder touched one wall, and her left shoulder touched another.
"N-No... no... no..." she whimpered, turning her head from side to side as his hair-covered, grotesque face came closer. She smelled the sleep on his breath and a low groan came from her as his mouth caught hen and kissed her ripe lips. The hairs from his day-old mustache and beard scratched her, and she frantically tugged her head from side to side, her wrists desperately fighting the steel grip in which he had her wrists. Finally she tugged her mouth from his, but it didn't stop the man from continuing to kiss her wherever he was able to put his mouth. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her throat, her eyelids, her nose, her hair-covered forehead, her temples, and wherever he kissed, he savored the taste of her. All of her was a sweet, delicious treat, so arousing and definitely made to be loved. She was sighing and whimpering, still turning her head this way and that as his hungry kisses continued covering her entire face and her soft throat.
"No ... please ... Mr. Martin ... stop it ... please ... don't do this ... leave me ... alone ... sir ..." she was gasping.
"I can't," he told her. "I just can't. There's something about you that's special."
He tugged her close to him and then, in a strongly fierce grip, he held her tight, mashing the satiny wet warmth of her tender flesh into his shuddering body, his stolid phallus standing upright between their bellies. His left hand reached behind her head and gripped it tightly, and he held her face steady so he was able to kiss her mouth with his own, a jolting thrill shooting through him as he crushed her so tightly to him, her rounded, swollen breasts were rubbing solidly against his chest. With his lancing tongue he pushed straight between her teeth, something Teresa's husband had never done. Her husband had been interested solely in fucking, and never once had he bothered to hug and kiss and embrace her other than to hold her steady while he fucked her. Teresa was taken aback by the tongue whispering its way through her mouth, and though she struggled, his hand held her head too steady for her to pull away. The man gloried in the scintillating, lusting daggers of sensation that sliced so strongly through his groin.
Teresa pushed frantically against the man's firm, hard shoulders with her two hands but discovered there was no way for her frail body to break his strong hold. She breathed heavily through strongly dilated nostrils, feeling as if the man was sucking the very life out of her.
Damn the man! Had he gone completely crazy? Either that, or he was drunk this early in the morning. A sane, decent, sober man would never behave this way with a woman he had just met. She continued shoving and wriggling, and then her foot slipped on the wet surface of the bathtub beneath the sudsy water and she most certainly would have had a nasty fall had he not caught her, gripping her all the more tightly, clutching her to him.
He stopped his kissing for a moment, pulling his lips away from hers for a moment, and he was panting heavily. Martin looked at her, gasping heavily, almost out of breath, and he said, "I'm glad you didn't get hurt. I would never have forgiven myself if you had. I don't want anything happening to someone like you, so you just hold tightly to me, Teresa." His voice was harsh with the lust he felt as he wrapped his arms more securely around her curving feminine torso, his hands reaching down to fill themselves with her rounded buttocks. He pressed her body firmly to his, grinding his pelvis against hers, rubbing his penis all the more strongly against her belly, kissing her deeply, strongly, repeatedly.
A shuddering jolt burst through Teresa as she felt her exposed vagina being mashed against the man's testicles. Her round behind was starting to become inflamed in his tightly gripping hands. The way he totally overpowered and all but smothered her was not only sapping her strength, but for the first time in her life she found her will to resist was weakening. Though she had allowed her husband to manhandle her, she had never once liked it. With this man it was a completely different story. The feeling of his blood-bloated, passion-glutted phallus beating in continually jerking, twitching spasms against the softness of her trembling belly as his mouth pressed to hers, the tongue fucking in and out as a penis would in her cunt, made Teresa tremble, but not so much with fear as with building arousal.
Without realizing it, the woman raised her arms and wrapped them around the man, her fingers touching the hardness of his shoulders, his back, and then his buttocks. This was the first time in her life she was allowing her hands to explore the body of a man, and she had to admit, she found the hardness of his flesh exciting and thrilling under the calloused fingers of her hands. His lancing, digging tongue still working in her mouth seemed to be moving in time with the throbbingly insistent beat of his fully rigid penile organ. Teresa, not used to this kind of lovemaking, allowed her tongue to respond to his, slowly, gently, teasingly, as a low moan escaped from the depths of her gasping throat. The two of them sucked and teased and let their tongues dance from mouth to mouth as the bubbles in the tub slowly began disappearing from around their feet.
As they stood belly-to-belly, clinging tightly to one another and gasping and panting, their mouths continually kissing and sucking, feeling the incredibly delightful tingle of naked flesh against naked flesh, Teresa's eyes opened again as their mouths momentarily came apart, and the sight of his hair-covered face snapped her out of the temporary euphoria into which she had sunk. The realization of what she had been doing hit her like a blow to the solar plexus. What in the name of almighty God was she doing? Heaven help herl Was it this easy to suddenly turn into a wanton slut? Just like that, she was letting this horrible-looking strange man hug and kiss her while he embraced her naked body with his own nudity.
"No..." she whispered. "Senor Martin ... no .. .do not do this thing. It is wrong and we must stop it now, before we go too far." She was talking faster, babbling almost incoherently as her face pulled away from his and she pushed solidly against his strong chest.
"We have to do it," he insisted, wrapping an arm around her torso and pinning her own arms to her sides. His breath came in ragged pants as his chest pressed against her breasts, and she was able to feel the irregularity. "Don't keep saying no. You know you want me to make love to you."
With one hand still tightly wrapped around her, he managed to turn her body a little away from his so that his other hand had access to her flesh. He slid a sensitive finger between her trembling thighs, into her moistened flesh, running it back and forth along the entire length of her trembling vulva. Teresa shut her eyes, tossing her beautiful head back, leaving her throat open to his hungering mouth. The beautiful swells of her fabulously tantalizing breasts stood ovally up from the flatness of her chest, their tips the hue of cocoa beans, the nippies just as hard, looking just as tasty. His head dipped and Martin tasted the delightful flavor of her, chewing with his teeth, letting them surround one bud of deliciousness while his finger continued sliding very softly back and forth, moving in and out of her swollen vaginal lips, feeling the sweet syrupy oil that continued pouring all over his moving hand.
The tightness with which his other hand gripped her wriggling body, pinning her arms against her torso, made Teresa writhe with discomfort, but all this was shortly forgotten because of the continually enchanting sensation caused by his nibbling teeth and licking tongue on her breast that seemed to be drawing her very life out through her swollen nipple. The strong and tight muscles inside her were constantly pulling-overpowering demons that were trying to engulf her, making fun of the voice in her brain that reminded her that all this was wrong. His kissing mouth and moving finger were far greater jailers than the band of his arm wrapped around her limply struggling form.
Teresa was panting heavily, panting as she had never panted in her life, save for those two exciting moments when she had given birth to each of her sons. She trembled, waiting, curious what this man would do next to her shuddering flesh that, for the first time, was betraying her. The complete inner workings of her quivering body trembled, knowing what surely had to follow. The man's finger was no longer moving the length of her vulva, but was now sliding into her, not pushing too deeply, but in, then out, then in a little more, then out. He was playing with her with the way a virtuoso harpist might play with a well-tuned harp, and the sighs and gasps of delight oozing from her mouth was the music he was making as she wailed softly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the bathroom walls.
Martin Roth felt a wildly overpowering thrill continuing to well up inside him as he tugged the full, delightfully feminine body that was Teresa against him, arching her breasts into him as she wriggled and gasped out the thrilling rapture she was beginning to feel because of what his mouth and hand were doing to her. His penis was so gigantic at this moment it no longer resembled a human appendage, but looked like it might belong to some bull or rhinoceros. He looked down at the throbbingly twitching organ, seeing the way the head continued welling up and flexing as it continually pulsed and oozed the continual seepage of seminal oil. He also saw Teresa's brown-haired vagina, the cuntlips all soaked with her own juices. They were plump, full cuntlips, the kind he admired, and he saw the way her labia were parting, like the petals of a blossoming flower in a time-stop movie. Her upper thighs were already suddenly drenched with her oily lubricity.
Gripping the shank of his penis, Martin forced it lower until the head was pushing between Teresa's thighs. He rubbed it against the pulsating, syrupy lips of her tender vagina, and she gasped, "Ahhh-hhhhhhh..."
The contact of her slippery vaginal flesh with the weighty head of his throbbing penis made Martin struggle to keep his own balance in the tub. After waiting for so long for another right woman to show up, here she was, at last, the reality was too hard for him to believe. Still gripping his penile barrel, he rubbed the head of the powerful weapon back and forth between her slick labia, and he soon discovered it felt so good he didn't want to stop. Christ! She was really something.
Teresa, without realizing it, had raised herself on her toes to better feel what he was doing to her as the dominant lance of his throbbing penis continued slurping back and forth between the dripping lips of her vulva. Her thighs were unwillingly opening, spreading as her pelvis rubbed and shuddered against the mammoth tip of the man's pulsating cock. He was no longer pinning her arms to her sides. His hands were busy, one holding his penis in place, while the other took the place of his mouth on her twitching breasts. He stroked and fingered her mammaries, occasionally dipping his mouth so that his lips might once again pull at her nipples. This sent burning spears of pleasure shooting through her entire body. Teresa responded by thrusting her pelvis forward. Her inner thighs and vaginal lips surrounded the head of his solidly burgeoning penis, and like a hood her labia slid over it, trying to engulf it into her. She was unable to keep her own hips from thrusting back and forth, and it was almost as if his penis was already far inside her. This way, without actually embedding itself into her, it felt far more thrilling to Teresa than anything her husband had ever done to her.
Martin looked down at the thrilling sight he was enjoying, the inciting movement of their genitals slipping and sliding against one another. Teresa was rapidly becoming unconscious of everything other than the burning touch of his body and hands against her own body. She was rapidly being aroused to where she was looking forward to what would happen, next. Her head was moving quickly from side to side, her bangs whipping across her forehead. Heaven help her but she was truly aroused. For the first time in her entire life, she was aroused. Catching her rounded hips in his hands, Martin brought her around to face him fully, guiding her vagina until the blood-bloated, pulsating, blunt head of his enormous shaft was rubbing against the little clitoral button, and it was as if someone had touched Teresa with a bolt of raw lightning.
"Aaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" she shuddered, gasping and panting, feeling the jagged electricity charge delightfully and uncontrollably through her body Martin kept his mighty truncheon pressed against her little organ, and sparks showered through her as if she was about to short-circuit altogether.
Teresa reached out and gripped the man's firm shoulder to keep herself on her feet. She spread her legs wider to maintain her balance, and the curren she felt from the touch of his penis against he clitoris continued powering its way through he trembling body.
Martin tightened his buttocks, then took a deep breath and shoved forward with his hips, the tip of his penis pressing more strongly against the button of her aroused body, and he almost heard a bell ringing inside her. He realized it must have been quite some time since this woman had allowed herself to indulge in any physical enjoyment. He was sensitive to the fact that she was close to her satisfaction, and he didn't want to hurry it. He intended to make the most of her, and at the same time he wanted her to enjoy him. Martin knew this was too good to be a one-time thing. He had to know more about her.
"My work," she whispered, the voice in her brain warning her she somehow had to get out of this.
"Yes," he nodded. "Your work. You mustn't be late."
Holding onto her, he reached down into the soap dish and picked up the cake of soap. Then he proceeded to rub her body with it, washing her down, splashing about with his feet as he lathered her from top to bottom. He rubbed her breasts, massaging and teasing them, rubbing the nipples repeatedly.
Teresa found herself unable to fight his touch, and she whimpered, her hands reaching out to hold onto him. No man had ever paid such careful attention to her before, and she was overwhelmed by it.
The feel of her beautiful, pear-shaped breasts, slippery and warm in his massaging hands, caused new thrills of ecstatic delight to charge through Martin Roth. His penis shuddered and swelled a little bit more. He soaped his own body now, then ran the bar of soap over his groin, rubbing the cake of soap over his lengthy cock, sending new jolts of lust rippling through the massively poking instrument. Then he returned to lather Teresa's hips, buttocks and thighs, and then he ran his hands between her beautiful legs, soaping her aching vagina again and again.
The thoroughly aroused woman bucked, slamming her body against his working hand, trying hard to capture it between her thighs and keep it where she needed it. His hand reached even further between her legs. He dropped the soap and extended two fingers, pushing them gently inside her wetly sucking vaginal channel. Her frantic muscles inside desperately clutched at his fingers and began squeezing them, and now Teresa was shuddering and murmuring incoherently. "Ay Dios!" she gasped.
"Sweet Teresa," he gasped. "Lovely Teresa. I think I've been waiting for you all my life. And you've been waiting for me. Here, this is what you want," he whispered, and sliding his fingers out, he pressed his slithery, throbbing penis just inside Teresa's heated, soap-slicked vaginal chamber.
"Ahhhhhhhh ... hhhhhuuuuunnnnn hhhhh ... ohhhhhhhhhhh ..." Teresa gasped, and her thighs, of their own accord, spread wider as she arched up to give this strange man freer access to her aching hollow. Martin felt her vagina close tightly around his burning masculine pipe like a clamping bivalve, gripping the stolidity of his aching penile flesh with bands of interior muscle that felt like millions of working fingers. His throbbing penis sliced into the tenderly pulsating flesh and rapturous ribbons of sheer pleasure became so intense within him, they were hardly able to be withstood.
Teresa's arms were tightly gripping the man around his slightly thick waist and his hands on her hips helped her keep her balance as she hurled her body back and forth on his hips, feeling the thick rod pushing deeper into her. The soap had made his entrance into her easy, and even though his thickness was stretching her inner tunnel, she felt no discomfort whatsoever. She felt the man's semen-swollen scrotum' swinging between her thighs, thwacking wetly against her perineum as her ankles hooked behind his so she was able to lean back in the circle of his arms and feel even better penetration. The massive, blunt-tipped phallus was punching its way deeper and deeper into her. Everything had been blotted out in her mind except the burning fever in the pit of her aching belly, as well as the screaming itch making her clitoris vacillate. Teresa had never known such bliss in her life, and she felt it already coming to a peak.
"Aaaahhhhhh . . . hhhuuunnn hhhhhh .. . ohhhhhhh . .. wwwwaaaahhhh .. ." she continually chanted, still slamming her pelvis repeatedly into the man, moving with harder, faster jerks, impaling herself on as much of the giant shaft as their standing positions would allow, moving in a raging frenzy. Then, with no real warning other than the previous tingles she had felt, incredible spasms began shaking her, internally. They mounted to a rising crest, and then her whole world fell away as, for the first time, she discovered the meaning of bliss.
HHHHHITTTTTSSSS ... HAAPPPPPENNNIH-NNNGGGGGG!" She screamed again and again, slamming her pelvis solidly against Martin, hitting him with such power, they almost fell. Bone crashed against bone, flesh wetly smacked against flesh, and Teresa found herself dissolving in a. fiery blistering of light, internally shattering her.
Martin clung to her as her mouth hung slackly open. The sound of her panting was so obscene, it echoed licentiously through the bathroom, and she shuddered, feeling totally overpowered. So this was what her husband felt all those times. No wonder he never seemed to have enough of her. Yet she was more angry than ever at him for never having permitted her to enjoy such a feeling.
Her convulsing vagina was still pulling on the steely length of penis inside her, and she realized the man had not yet achieved his own satisfaction. She backed away, and his stolidly rigid organ slid from the aching depths of her vagina.
Teresa stood there, shuddering beyond control, trembling and shaking in wracking quakes as the last of the orgasm in her drained what little strength she had left. She leaned against the man, ashamed of what she had done, yet unable to hide herself from him she felt so weak. If she was to dress and be ready for work she would need his help. Heaven help her, but she felt so weak she wanted to lie down and simply go to sleep again. Even so, her mind was churning with all kinds of crazy thoughts. Why had she allowed this to happen in the first place? Having been chaste all these years, how had she so easily slipped and permitted a strange man, a man who was not her husband, to do such a thing to her? She felt like some kind of tiny little home dynamo that had been hooked into a high-voltage line attached to a major utility. Being plugged in, so to speak, had set her off, but she had not generated enough power to set the man off.
CHAPTER TWO
"Are you all right?" Martin Roth asked her.
Shutting her eyes, she nodded wearily as he turned on the shower and washed away the soap from both their bodies. She stood there, her head hanging down, feeling ashamed for having let this man touch her. She felt even more ashamed for permitting him to rinse her naked body off as if she were some small child.
He helped her from the curb, and more shame ran through her as she realized she had actually liked what he had done to her. Teresa blushed, looking at the man's mammoth erection and wondered what he would do to make it reduce. He was drying her all over with a fluffy towel, and she gasped as she realized the touch of his fingers, even through the towel, was reawakening these evilly salacious urges in her.
Roth hung up the towel after drying himself off, and he carried Teresa into her own bedroom and he put her on the bed. She looked at the clock in there, and she saw it was five-twenty-five. Was that all? Perhaps she'd be able to rest for a little while. She certainly felt as if she needed rest. She sensed his jumping phallus and shut her eyes, just lying there, breathing evenly.
Teresa's eyes fluttered open and she saw him standing above her, his face wearing a look of total inscrutability, fixed as it were with a no-expression expression. She stared at his strong, masculine body that even now looked menacing, and she felt that she detested herself for continuing to look at his penis. All this was wrong and she had to let him know, here and now, that what had happened before must never happen again.
"Something is still bothering you," he said, sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her head.
"What we did just now," she said to him, "it was as much my fault as it was yours. You mustn't blame yourself completely."
"Blame?" he asked. "Why is there blame to be fixed anywhere?"
"Don't you understand, it was wrong."
"Wrong? Did you enjoy it?"
"That was why it was wrong," she insisted.
"Are you trying to say that all enjoyable things are wrong?"
"Mr. Martin ..."
"Martin, just Martin."
"Martin, the church has taught us that man is conceived in sin. What we did might well conceive a child, and so the act must be thought of as a sinful one.
'To begin with, I'm incapable of making any woman pregnant," he told her. "I had a vasectomy many years ago. However, what we did was no sin. I saw you, I felt this overpowering need for you, and I made love to you."
"Do you make love to all women for whom you feel this need?"
"I did nothing wrong," he told her. 'To begin with, there are very, very few women I've ever felt this need with. My wife, who no longer lives with me, was one of them."
"Your wife!" she gasped. "You're a married man, and you visit this shame on me? You know this is wrong."
T know it's right," he insisted. "What's more, before you leave this room I'm going to make love to you again."
"No!" she gasped. "I have to hurry. I have my work ..."
"You have a half hour before you have to go to work," he told her. "We can make love, and you can still be dressed in plenty of time to go to work."
Oh Senor Martin, have you no sense of decency? Must you shame me this way? I will not permit it to happen this time, for the sake of both our souls."
Martin was already on the bed, on top of her, and he said, "I'm sorry, Teresa, but you have to learn the difference between what I feel for you and mere lust for its own sake. I'm going to fuck you, dear woman, no matter how much you resist. For my own peace of mind and body I have to fuck you."
"No!" she gasped, trying to clamp her thighs shut. "No, no, definitely not! I will not allow this!"
His hands swept under her knees and he threw himself forward as he swept her knees back. She struggled, swiping at him with her hands, pulling his long, matted hair, but he still pushed her knees back until they were on either side of her head on the pillow. He lay on top of her, his weight crushing her, and as she pulled his hair, he still managed to press his mouth against hers. He kissed her long and hard, and she tried thrusting his tongue from her mouth with her own tongue, but when her tongue did push his oral organ out, he sucked it into his own mouth and chewed on it as she wriggled beneath him, trying to fight him off.
"No ..." she gasped, "you don't understand. We will be punished for this. You mustn't ... you mustn't..."
Martin pressed the tip of his throbbingly shuddering penis against the heatedly moistened lips of her wet vagina. He began pushing forward as Teresa started struggling, trying to force him away. But in the position she was in, she was helpless. He was so much stronger than she. This time she had no soap to smooth the way, and as he parted her curls and slipped between the two pairs of lips, she trembled. He pushed, and there was resistance.
"Good Lord!" he gasped. "You're tight, very tight. How long has it been since you done something like this."
"Dios Mio!" Teresa cried out. "Don't you understand, to do this is for both of us to commit adultery."
"Don't you understand," he said to her. "If what you say is true, then we've already committed the big A. Whether you do it once or a million times doesn't count. Besides," he gasped, slowly sinking into her to the hilt, "it feels so good."
"Aaaaaaaannnnnhhhhhhhhhhh!" Teresa gasped, feeling his thick phallus make her tunnel swell. This time she felt it, every bit of it. He clamped his mouth on hers to silence her with kisses, and Teresa ashamedly lay there and allowed him to kiss her without kissing back.
Pulling his mouth from hers, he stared into her eyes and said, "You like it, Teresa, I can tell. I can see it written all over your face."
He was right, and she hated him for it. Her husband had done this to her for years and she had felt nothing other than discomfort. Now this stranger was doing this to her body, and she was craving more and more and more, which was all the more reason why she had to fight it and somehow or other make him understand that he must never do this to her, again.
Martin's hands grabbed her wrists and held her arms down as his shoulders pressed against the backs of her thighs, keeping her knees over his shoulders. She kicked with her heels, drumming them on his back, but this only spurred him to slide out a little and then push in all over again. He thrilled to the slow engulfing of his penis in the tightness of her vaginal maw. He once again withdrew, moving just as slowly, then eased it right back in again, each time pulling out a little more, then shoving in a little deeper, enjoying his control over her, thrilling to the utterly unbelievable sensations sweeping over him. No matter what happened in the future, this was another of those mornings to remember that would be locked away inside him, forever.
Teresa's hair was swinging wildly around on her head, and she was glad it was so short. Once all this was over, it would take only minutes for her to correct anything with a comb. Martin pressed his weight on her, his face pressing against hers as he kissed her mouth repeatedly. Teresa, ashamed she was unable to repel the man, remained unmoving. Her mind tried to fix on something to prevent her feeling any enjoyment from what was happening. His balls swinging against her buttocks felt like a weighty hammer, but concentrating on that happening only served to enhance her arousal. His hard cock was pressing past her cervix into the throbbingly sucking depths of her tight pussy. At one point it felt as if his penis was trying .to pound its way into her womb, right into the uterus, itself.
"Uuuuuunnnnnggggghhhhh ... Mr. Martin ..." she gasped. "You're hurting me."
Martin grunted deep in his throat and flexed the head of his throbbing penis into the tight depths of her squeezing tunnel. Now that there was no soap to lather the way, it hurt, it hurt as much as when her husband used to do it to her, but the hurt was mixed with the incredible ecstasy of knowing that after all these years of her body not being used, she was able to handle so mammoth an organ, taking it all into her quivering belly. She felt his balls rubbing against her buttocks, and his pubic hair was tickling her outer labia. Blessed virgin! Was it possible for her to do this and still be a good, religious woman? No! This was wrong, it was terrible, and yet... he fit so perfectly into her, moving with such ease. Her husband, who had been so much thinner, moved so poorly inside her. He had always made her feel revulsion, and her body had never had any desire to participate when he did this to her. She mustn't permit herself to have feelings, now. She had to fight it, fight it all the way. If she was unable to dislodge him, then she had to hope that he would finish quickly and pull out. She wanted to hate this man for what he was doing to her, and she did dislike the fact that he had forced himself on her. Yet it took so much willpower to continually struggle and resist.
Unlike her husband, this man was not attempting to be domineering. Rather he was masterful and in complete command, and though she felt this was wrong, Teresa saw in his face that he was as concerned for her as he was for himself. Though it made hating him that much harder, she persisted, knowing to submit and accept this so readily was to make a place in hell for herself.
In her attempt to fight off the feelings coursing through her, she tried pushing her buttocks into the mattress, grinding her buttocks in a rotary movement as the man pounded in and out of her body with long, hard thrusts. Unwanted flares of thrilling sensations were building in her belly, and her mind screamed out the insane delight she was starting to feel. No! No! No! She must not allow this to happen to her. She had to fight such feelings.
Martin dimly wondered if this woman was so inwardly sensual she might possibly enjoy another climax, or even a set of climaxes before he finally achieved his own satisfaction. Lord! She was a most exceptional woman, and he didn't want this to ever end. If the Inferno was anything as Dante ahd pictured it, he very much wanted to spend eternity sexually tied to this wonderful woman. He'd fuck her forever and teach her to love him, even in Hell, itself. Though she was unaware of it, her pelvis was revolving, spinning wildly, jerking this way and that, even though she was pinned down with her knees thrown over Martin's shoulders. He'd found himself a truly passionate woman, and even if she didn't realize it, she was made for fucking. God in Heaven! What a woman! What a fantastic woman! The moment he had seen her he had known, but what he had seen had been a mere shadow of the truth.
He slammed into her with renewed vigor, knowing that no matter how much she insisted on resisting, if she was indeed the soul-mate he believed her to be, before this was over she would come around to his way of thinking. He pounded, nailed and thrust his solid organ ever' deeper into the tightly clutching grip of her seething cunt, fucking like an insane maniac until it appeared her continually battered interior would begin to bleed from the continued pounding it was receiving. Her interior muscles responded against the orders of her mind, clamping themselves around his probing shaft like a squid's tentacles, and though her mind was pleading for him to stop, her body was already begging for more. Her vaginal opening was a mouth with muscles for teeth, seeking to bite every last bit of his throbbing phallus making its way into her. And when she had finished vaginally chewing up his cock, she wanted to go to work on his testicles.
Dios mio! she thought. What kind of monster am I becoming to harbor such horrible thoughts. I must put such ideas out of my mind, once and for all.
Teresa's eyes focused in disbelief on her rounded knees on either side of her face, bent over Martin's shoulders, and her head began tossing, fitfully. Her mouth was hanging open as she continually panted, "Ohhhhh ... uhhhhhhh ... aaaannnnnnhhhhhh ..." with each forward thrust of his hammering phallus. She was chanting, moaning out the rising bliss in her body that her mind still refused to accept as her physical interior reached for the distant light at the end of the tunnel. She was chanting and moaning, and gasping, struggling to once again achieve the physical ecstasy she had known in the bathroom. It was there, all right, just beyond her reach, and if her brain tried shutting it out, her body was intent on reaching for it.
Teresa gasped, the thick penis in her making her feel as if she had been neatly cleaved right up the middle, a sword of lust slicing her neatly in half, and her legs began kicking his back even harder as she realized she was about to have another orgasm. With superhuman strength she began moving her pelvis up and down, and her mind blanked out its protests as screams of ecstasy bubbled from her wide open mouth, the heated breath searing her lungs in its passing.
Unable to control herself, Teresa slammed her fulcrum up to meet the downward thrusts of the solid organ. Her teeth sank solidly into the man's shoulder, biting deep with the ecstasy she was thrillingly feeling. Waves of beatitude charged through her, and then she fell back, almost lifeless on the bed.
Martin felt her body go slack, and he allowed her thighs to slip off his shoulders and surround his hips as he continued pumping solidly into her. He slowed his thrusts, making them gentle, waiting for her to recover, moving in and out of her overworked vagina between the lovely brackets of her white thighs. He'd forced himself with sheer willpower to weather the storm of her second paroxysm-like orgasm, knowing now that when the time came for him to achieve his own peak, she would be right there, alongside him. Both the girl he'd known in his youth and his wife were pale imitations of this woman. He just hoped he'd be able to hold off long enough so that the two of them would be able to share a cataclysm the next time around. .
From far, far away, at the outer edges of her emotional galactic system, Teresa's whirling, churning, spinning mind slowly began to wend its way back to her throbbing body, and she was aware of a gentle thrill moving in and out of her body, filling her with voluptuous enjoyment. Her legs automatically closed around Martin's waist, pressing tightly inward, clutching him firmly to her, loving the way his hard chest mashed against her roundly flattened breasts, making them look as if a part of her had spilled out and over. Without thinking, she reached for his head and tugged his face to hers, gripping his tongue and ferociously sucking on it. Somewhere, deep in her mind, a voice was once again warning her this was all wrong, but she was through listening to voices at the moment. Her emotions were unable to remain in check. She discovered that by tugging him more firmly against her own body, his penis rode higher in her vagina, massaging the ultra-sensitive upper wall, and the wild thrills she had experienced twice, so far, were once again beginning to invade her body. Teresa arched herself against the living magic wand that filled her, feeling the way it seemed to control everything that was happening. She was dross that had been turned to gold by the powering magic of his throbbingly magic organ.
As he continued pounding into the woman's narrow inner tunnel, Martin moved his head lower, letting his tongue run over her rounded breasts. Balancing himself on one hand, he pushed her breast higher, making it easier for him to pop the nipple into his mouth, and he began to hungrily suck on it. The mammary was a rounded, full mastoid, and he sucked on it for quite awhile as Teresa lay there, trying to sort out everything in her mind. She wanted to fight, to push him away, to continue telling him this wasn't right, but her body was saying so many other things to her, she was unable to resist the constant attention of his penis, his hands, and his mouth. He alternated between one breast and the other, his tongue a moving whip that was constantly hitting her sensitive nipples, making her moan hollowly as she tried to utter refusals, feeling them turn to deeply gasping sighs. Her brown eyes seemed to deepen each time his tongue moved from one breast to the other, and when he raised his eyes to look at her he saw her black irises beginning to shrink to tiny pinpoints as if she were freaking out with sexual delight. No woman had ever responded so strongly to the way his mouth made love, and he was pleased. He was more than pleased, more certain than ever that he had finally found the single woman in the whole world completely right for him.
His body arched and thrust forward, beating rhythmic sounds from her hollowed interior. Teresa wriggled, moaned, and sighed, the sounds like haunted music. His teeth and lips and tongue continued playing her body as if it were a virtuoso instrument, biting, chewing, sucking, and pulling on her tenderly quivering nipples. Her breast points shuddered and vibrated as he sensed the arching reverberations traveling through Teresa's tight body. None of the other women he had known had ever responded so strongly. There had never been lovemaking like this, either for the inexperienced woman, or the very experienced man. It was as if love was something brand-new for the both of them.
Teresa no longer had the capacity to resist, even if her mind swam with denials. Her hands moved against her will, finding the man's lean, hardened buttocks, feeling them steel-lined with planes of muscle. With both hands she clung tightly to his flat gluteal cheeks, clinging to him as she unwittingly wrapped her womanly calves over his strong, masculine lower legs. She began arching, lifting, responding to his continual thrustings into her. The soft bottoms of her feet rubbed up and down his strong, hot-fleshed calves, moving like tenderly soothing hands, affectionately curious to know more and more of the man. For the first time in her life she wanted to really know a man. She wanted to know every particle, ever cell, every last little atom and molecule of him. She wanted to know his flesh, his bone, his muscle, his nerves, his hair. She had to know every part of him, every opening, every membrane, every tooth and nail. Her hands continued exploring further, sliding tenderly along his fleshy waist, then moving to his flat hips. Her fingers moved the other way, bypassing his waist again, this time feeling the shape of his ribs, then touching his muscular shoulders all over again. She slid her hands behind him and touched his flexible backbone, a fused steel cable holding his wonderfully delight-giving flesh together. The back of his strong neck, covered with little black hairs, despite cords of powerful muscle felt extremely vulnerable under her palms as she tenderly cupped it.
Martin thrilled to the adventurous movements of her wonderful hands as they wandered over him. The pulsing he felt in his groin continued wildly mounting. This was a wanting, giving woman. She might never have realized it until now, but she was as eager to please as she was to be pleased. Her softly yielding body accepted the hard inches of his driving phallus as it slammed into her with deeply driving thrusts, like earth surrendering to a plough, and now she unwittingly opened herself to him completely, her flesh surrounding him and holding him to her, as her fingers kneaded his buttocks like malleable clay beneath her.
For the first time in ages, Martin felt like a lover and not like a man merely fucking a woman. He was invincible. Lord! He was unable to remember when he had lasted this long, and he was certain he'd be able to go on forever.
Teresa's red hair was a flaming sea beating against the whiteness of the pillow in continual whacks, and Martin found the curved shape of her ear pressed into its depths. The heatedly yielding pseudo penis of his pink tongue found the shell-shaped orifice and he circled it wetly, then thrust inside the tender passage firing her brain with his insistent messages of desire. He was licking and lapping, and Teresa was gasping and crying out as she wriggled and groveled beneath him. Sinking his teeth into her earlobe he left indentations of his rapturous love for her, and the blood went charging to her flesh, making the little flap turn bright carmine.
Tiny little sounds of abject servitude began tumbling from the woman's lips as she continued squirming under his hard body. Now she felt totally and wantonly subjugated, and though she knew this was all wrong she was powerless to resist the wonderful thrills she felt. Looking up through glazed eyes at the man's loving and adoring face, she wondered at the expression on it, never having seen anyone look at her that way, before, not even her husband.
"Amor ..." she sighed, clutching him tightly to her. "Querido amor," she crooned, for the first time kissing a man back with true passion.
Martin felt joyous stabs of total animal pleasure charging through him as her shapely thighs and calves continued tightening and releasing with the upward thrusts of her moving body that continued responding to the burial of his penis inside her. Her mouth was gaping open with delicious abandon and her head moved to make it easier for him to kiss her tender throat as well as her delightfully curved shoulder. Martin continued thrusting the relentless length of his solid steel pole into the wet softness of her impassioned cunt. Additional charges of heady delight were moving tantalizingly through his prick, his hands, his mouth, and his anxious mind. For him, there was nothing other than the continuous plunging of his battering penis into the heated pink moistness of her seething, sucking vagina, hungry and ravenous for whatever he was able to gain from burying himself in her thrillingly rapturous, now welcoming flesh.
Martin lifted his body a little, allowing himself to look down to where his weighty penis was now slipping smoothly in and out between the flushed, puffy hair-framed lips of her shuddering cunt, drinking in the feel of the clasping pink flaps of tight flesh, clinging gluttonously to his raging and furious length of penis. Christl He had held back much longer than he had intended. He just wasn't able to contain himself much longer. His whole body was about to shatter.
"Teresa ... sweet Teresa ..." he gasped. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" he grunted, his heated breath coming from his dilated nostrils and searing her flesh like flames from a dragon's mouth. His practiced drive and superb sexual ability was causing her to climb the sheer cliffs of towering emotion.
The woman's brain was all aflame with a myriad of different, clashing thoughts, some telling her not to respond, others telling her she had no choice but to respond as she whimpered helplessly in time to his powering lunges, the sounds almost instinctive and basic to her survival.
Martin found himself thrusting more and more vibrantly into her, jamming the length of his heavily swollen spear into the heatedly sucking depths of her clenching vagina as her body now bucked wildly. He punched into her with jarring force, slamming, beating, and pounding, the slippery secretions from deep inside her coating and easing the way with every throbbing plunge.
"Si... si... si..." she gasped. "Mas, quiero mas ... more, I want more," she told him, straining her body against his powering length, arching so strongly that both their flailing bodies lifted momentarily from the mattress. She rode him, her frenzied heels now digging into his body, spurring him on to even greater effort, her legs tightening as she found herself working and laboring up and down the length of the pole with which he had filled her previously unwilling body. The throes of ecstatic anesthesia had temporarily numbed her conscience, and all she cared about was this wonderfully fucking man who seemed to know only too well how to use her body.
"Ohhhhhhhh ... Teresa ..." he gasped.
"Harderrrrrrr ... harrrrrderrrrrrr ... harrrr-rrrderrrrrrrrrrr ... per favor ... harrrrrrrrrder-rrrrrr..." she begged, her legs now wrapped tightly around the barrel of his body, her inner thighs frantically crushing the sides of his ribs as she ground her cunt into his groin with a bruising tempo, enjoying the constant punishment his drubbing phallus was giving her surrendering pussy. Her wound-around thighs climbed higher and higher on his body, soon they were beneath his armpits, presenting him with a completely uptilted cunt into which he thrust straight down again and again.
Martin attacked her even more powerfully, as the smell of her, a total female animal in heat, only added to his maniacal fury. Her squeezing thigh continued pulling him even more tightly against the flattened roundness of her voluptuous breasts.
Abruptly the dull ache in his throbbing testicles. swelled from a pinpoint of light behind his eyeball to an all-consuming explosion somewhere inside him, and he knew his moment was at hand The. was no way for him to restrain himself any longer.
"AAAAAAAAA NNNNNNNGGGGGGGG ... HHHHHHAAAAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH ... UUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN .. . HHHHHH-AAAAAANNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHH ... NOWWWWWWWWWW . . . A A A A A-UUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH!"
It was all the warning he was able to give her. Teresa responded with, "Si ... si ... now, mi amor!"
The red-haired woman thrust herself even more violently against his body, sensing she, too, was about to peak, and this would be the best of them all. She uncontrollably hurled herself against his body, and then she was shrieking, "AAAAAAIIIII-EEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAA ... EEEE!"
Her hot vaginal walls began secreting their heated gushes of delightfully blissful liquid. For the first time in her life she was pouring lubricant from her interior the way a man spurted semen, and it washed all around the thrusting pole, inundating that pulsing penis.
As Teresa lurched and wriggled beneath the man in wild convulsion, her vaginal mouth and frantic inner muscles feverishly tugging at his cock, Martin felt his own thick ropes of sperm finally unleash themselves far, far inside the quivering depths of her trembling body.
Teresa ground her loins with wanton shamelessness tightly against the man, clasping him solidly to her, his glorious male organ buried all the way inside her, dumping his fluid into her. It shuddered and shook, firing its liquid fill into her feminine container, and for the first time Teresa actually welcomed the semen of a man into her body.
"Hold me tight, mi querido," she begged, "por favor please ... hold me close ... hold me ... hold me ..." she moaned, her slender thighs quivering and her entire body vibrating completely out of control as she gloried in the burning heat of his bubbling testicular liquid spurting hotly into her achingly receptive vagina. In her gasping and shivering happiness, she felt inner waves lift her and carry her to the heights of paradise. Small sobs tore from her gasping throat.
Martin Roth slumped to the side, sliding off Teresa, his energy momentarily drained. His fury, his very life force had filled her vaginal center, his heated sperm mixing with her erotic oils, and he lay there near her, his body still jerking reflexively, though his penis, now in the open air, was releasing no more white glue.
Teresa slowly came out of the funk into which she had allowed herself to be swallowed. Her head was spinning, but she realized she had done a terrible thing. Had the man raped her she would have been able to go to confession and be absolved. But though she had fought him at the beginning, she had even-taully welcomed him into her, and this was a sin from which she feared there would be no absolution.
Struggling to her feet, she returned to the bathroom to wash his contents from her body, then she hurriedly dressed, seeing it was ten minutes to six, and in her black maid's uniform was barely on time to begin her duties.
CHAPTER THREE
Teresa was assigned two jobs that morning. First, she was to begin by helping the waitresses. The staff was short-handed, and so she was given an apron to cover her maid's uniform. She would wait on the breakfast tables, and afterward she would have to clean up certain rooms.
It was six-thirty when she had all the tables at her station properly set, and then she was allowed to go to the service dining room where she had her own breakfast. Usually she said nothing to any of the others working there. For some reason she found she had nothing in common with them. Rather, her mind, against her will, reviewed what had happened that morning in the bathroom and her bedroom, and the more she dwelled on it, the more ashamed she felt. Imagine, she had actually allowed herself to enjoy what a strange man had done to her body. What kind of a puta, a prostitute, lurked under her.
At seven-thirty, she went to the main dining room, and for the next half hour waited around until the guests began slowly straggling in. Little by little she got busier until she had no time for thinking. She took orders, served meals, hurried to and from the kitchen carrying heavy trays, grateful they had males to handle busing of empty dishes.
It was almost nine-thirty when the tall, suave, handsome man sat at one of the tables and gave her his order. At first she didn't recognize him, but when he smiled she immediately knew Martin Roth. Shaved, with his hair properly combed, he looked like an entirely different person. He was no longer apelike in appearance. On the contrary, he was muy guapo, very handsome.
He didn't behave in a cutesy way, trying to pinch her bottom, nor did he wink at her or make sly remarks. In fact, he spoke more civilly to her than most of the people on whom she had waited. He thanked her when she brought his food, and there was genuine warmth in his eyes, which irritated Teresa even more, because she wanted to hate this man, and he was making it very difficult for her to do that.
Some of the architects had brought their wives, but Roth was alone, and Teresa remembered him saying something about living apart from his wife. If she had a husband like this one, she'd want to be near him, always.
When he left the dining room after eating, Teresa felt a hole open up in her life. The man had made himself a part of her whether she liked it or not. Common sense told her the best thing would be for the man to never speak to her again. He'd be doing her a favor leaving her alone. Yet deep down inside her heart yearned for the man to talk to her, to speak words of love to her, to make her feel like a true woman. Yes, that was what had happened that morning. Though what he had done was wrong, he had made her feel like a true woman.
At ten o'clock, when the dining room had closed, she set the table for the one-o'clock lunch meal, then left. She had been assigned to the upper floor of the main hotel, where she was to clean and vacuum all the different rooms to which she had been assigned. Since she was to serve both lunch and supper meals, she had been given no more than six rooms to handle before having lunch, herself.
Teresa hurried through the first five rooms having no one in her way. It was when she got to the sixth room she discovered trouble. Since there was no sign on the door telling her not to disturb the occupants, she used the key she had been given to let herself in.
As she walked in, she froze. Inside the room there were four people, two males and two females.
"Pardon me," she said. "I will come back later."
"No, s'all right," a half-potted woman with brown hair told her. "Might as well get it over and done with. Just don't mind us, honey. Clean up the place and then scram."
"Hey, Debbie," one of the men, a short, dark-haired man with a large nose and a bushy mustache called to her. "Who're you talkin' to."
"If you'd open your eyes," the one called Debbie said to him, "you'd be able to see."
"I'll be back later," Teresa insisted, about to back out.
"Hey, you get this room spic and span right now," the naked Debbie insisted, standing, "or I'll call the management and tell 'em you aren't doing a proper job. I'll see to it you get sacked."
Teresa, unaware of what these people might or might not be able to do, decided that at the moment she was better off not trying to fight with them. The little, brown-haired girl, and she was little-even shorter than Teresa's five-feet-two-inches had a compact body at the present time, but the way she was abusing it meant that one day it would get flabby and jellylike. She had firm, small, rounded breasts with tan nipples and almost no areolae. Her waist was slender enough, and she had almost flat, boyish hips.
The blonde who was first starting to awaken on the other bed had monstrous breasts, though the rest of her body was lean and almost as boyish as that of the one called Debbie. She was an attractive-enough woman, but like Debbie, she was, or had been, blind-drunk.
Not so the two men in the room. The two of them, the mustached one Debbie called Al, with his hair combed to cover his huge ears-say rather messed up to cover his huge ears, was in one-piece red underwear, and all that was missing were the parts to cover his hands and feet.
"Whass gon' on here?" the second man, clean-shaven, with stringy brown hair asked, sitting up on the floor where he had probably slept the entire night.
It was obvious the room belonged to one of the couples, and the four of them had decided on a switch party. They had gotten roaring drunk and had come back to this room. The women had stripped, the men had gotten down to their underwear, and then everyone had simply conked out.
While the clean-shaven one, who was called Pau by the blonde everyone else called Andrea, staggered to the bathroom scratching his head, the short one called Al licked his lips and yawned am finally got to his own feet.
"Well hi there," he yawned again, grinning at Teresa. "Come to join the party? Hey, I got some-thin' to show you." He took a deep breath and beat his chest, and in a quick movement unbuttoned his underwear and let it fall to the floor revealing a penis that looked as long and as thin as a pencil that had seen a sharpener too often. The skin was sallow-looking save for the top which was a bright cherry that was shaped like an onion.
Teresa, having been loved so violently earlier in the day, thought she was incapable of being shocked at anything, but she had to admit the open behavior of these people was disgusting. She turned away from them and started vacuuming the carpet, wanting to finish as quickly as possible and get out of this terrible room.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched as Al, the short one with the mustache, now totally naked, beckoned to Andrea, the blonde. Andrea got off the bed and staggered over to the corner of the room where a TV set rested on a stand. Al grabbed Andrea and shoved her against the TV set, all but bending her over it, using a knee to push her thighs apart, and then he began rubbing his hand up ant down the inside of Andrea's very oily inner thighs.
"I like to fuck a cunt from the rear every now and again," he shouted loud enough to be heard over the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
Using his fingers to keep her leaking vaginal lips spread wide apart, his used his other hand to guide his phallic lance right up against the spread-open lips of her seething, dripping cunt, totally oblivious to the fact that the door was open and passersby would be able to peer in. Andrea's cunt was obviously one that had been used rather considerably, and since Al's cock was so tiny, he had no problem shoving it straight into the gaping orifice with a single upward flexing of his hips., "Yeah," he grinned, still yelling. "Your cunt is looser than Debbie's, but it'll do."
The blonde bent over the top of the TV set, hugging it tightly against her as Al pressed his groin against her asscheeks and began rotating his hips as he violently started plunging his penis in and out of her sucking pussy. Andrea went into insane gyrations, herself. She slammed her slurping cunt back and forth in time to the obscenely vehement thrusts and rotations as if she were constantly corkscrewing herself back and forth on and away from his moving cock. She had no trouble engulfing the entire length of his short stub, and somehow she had developed the muscles in her cunt so that they were able to cling to the throbbing cock. She screeched in delightful ecstasy feeling his solid meat drive all the way up into her fiery center.
As the plunging penis moved back and forth in the woman's sucking cunt, barely able to reveal itself on each backstroke, Teresa, from the corner of her eye, saw it was covered with a colorless bubbling froth. As his pelvis banged against her ass-cheeks, the froth enmeshed itself in his pubic hairs and smeared against her asscheeks, making her buttocks shine and glisten. In spite of the sounds of the vacuum cleaner, Teresa was able to hear the continuing squish-squish of their movements as the blonde began riding the little penis all the more violently, her arms tightly around the TV set. Al, the short man with the nose bigger than his penis, responded, his thighs whacking against the backs of her delightful thighs, and he powered into her with all the violence in him, driving so hard, her feet were lifted off the floor on each forward stroke as his pelvis hoisted her buttocks in the air.
"I'm ... uhhhhhh ... gonna shoot..." Al was gasping. "Can't hold it back."
"Just a little longer ..." Andrea was begging. "Hold back a little longer. Take your cock out and suck my cunt for a little while. Come on, Al. Be a sport... uhhhhhhh ..."
"Why the fuck should I?" the tiny man asked as he drove his skinny little penis that much harder into the sucking depths of her anxious inferno.
"Hell!" she gasped. "I'll do anything you want... but I have to come."
"Lick my asshole?" he asked, still moving.
"Yes, yes, yes, only don't come until I've come."
"Shit!" Al muttered. "This is gonna kill the feeling for me."
"I'll make it up to you, I will," Andrea promised as he finally slowed down.
How in heaven's name can those two rutting animals enjoy what they're doing? Teresa wondered.
There was no tenderness, no love, no inner feeling of any kind. It was the way her husband used to do things to her. At least Martin Roth had shown a strong emotional feeling toward her, and he had stimulated a strong emotional response from her. There had been a kind of love, if only for a little while. Between these people in this room there was nothing. It was purely flesh on flesh, and totally animalistic. Although what she had done with Martin Roth was still intolerable in her own mind, Teresa realized that what was happening between these people was something far worse.
"Hey, I got me a great idea," Al said as the taller, clean-shaven one known as Paul emerged from the bathroom. "I wanna see Andrea and Debbie making it together, and once the two of you come, Paul and I will screw the two of you and make you both come again."
How thoroughly disgusting! Teresa thought as she vacuumed the large overstuffed chair across the room.
"What about the maid?" Paul asked.
"We'll let her see how it's done," Al laughed. "Who knows, a little visual stimulation is all she might need to want to join in with us."
"Oh come on, Al," Debbie, Al's wife, spoke up. "You know I don't go in for things like that. I'm no lesbian. Heck, I'm not even bi. I don't get any pleasure from licking another woman's vagina."
'Too bad," Andrea, the blonde, laughed. "If our husbands want to see us eating each other, that's what they're going to see."
Without warning, she leaped on Debbie, surrounding her head with her arms, tightly gripping her as she brought her mouth down solidly on hers. She rubbed her large, bouncing breasts against the smaller, firmer breasts of the brown-haired woman, feeling them automatically harden as her own pink nipples welled into anxious spikes of delight.
Debbie began struggling, trying to push the other woman away, but Andrea was not so easily discouraged. Laughing, she began moving one of her hands up the inner thigh of the other female.
Debbie, unable to breathe, finally managed to tear her mouth away from Andrea's lips, saying, "Come on, knock it off, I didn't bargain for this. A little swapping is fine, but this is ridiculous."
"This is going to be fun," Andrea told her, and she once again pressed her lips demandingly against the smaller mouth of the objecting Debbie. She sucked at the brown-haired woman's mouth as if her own oral center had the power of the vacuum in Teresa's hand. .
The blonde's larger breasts were rubbing all the more sensuously against those of the brunette's smaller, firmer mammaries, and it was obvious to everyone in the room, Teresa included, that the one known as Debbie was becoming affected by the contact. The combination of Andrea's blisteringly heated kisses added to the pressure of the blonde's breasts violently rubbing and massaging her own mammaries made Debbie start to pant as her nostrils swelled and dilated.
The blonde's fingers, continually dancing their way up the other woman's tender thigh, now discovered the mossy covering of fur blanketing the other female's pussy. Teresa, still cleaning, changing the sheets of the unoccupied bed, watched as Andrea's fingers moved through the brown-haired woman's pelvic thatch until they finally found their objective; the woman's outer labia. The fingers slowly slid gently back and forth, and more moisture began bubbling and seeping from Debbie's already tantalized and aroused inner womanhood. It looked like colorless sap oozing from a maple tree. Andrea rubbed consistently until Debbie began sighing, then a finger parted the outer labia and snaked between the inner labia, massaging the secret vestibule hidden behind those cuntlips.
"Jee-sussssss!" Andrea began muttering. "Now I know what Al meant when he thought my cunt was loose compared to yours. You have one tight, sweet little box there."
Now Andrea's forefinger, followed by her middle finger, was sliding in, and the two digits moved in and out of the slithery temple. The continual plunging of her fingers, sliding in and out, in and out, continued, and it was obvious Debbie was feeling more and more heated liquidity building in the depths of her tightly sucking vagina. Her mind was being overcome by her aroused senses, and at this point she no longer seemed to care whether it was a man's or a woman's finger moving in and out of her seething slit. She attempted to make one more effort to object, and pulling her mouth from Andrea's, she said, "Come on, Andrea, stop it! I'm not a dyke."
"Who do you think you're kidding?" Andrea laughed. "You don't really want me to stop finger-fucking you, and you know it, honey."
Teresa had finished making the bed, and now she was dusting the furniture, and though she did her best to keep her face averted, because of the mirrors in the room, or the reflecting face of the turned-off TV set, she was able to see everything going on. She watched as Andrea's fingers pushed a little deeper, once again feeling sympathy for the brown-haired woman, only her own body was also inwardly responding. She almost felt the fucking fingers sliding into the tight depths of her own heatedly aroused cunt. Andrea's palm was pressing against Debbie's pelted lips, occasionally brushing the beadlike extension of the reddened clitoris.
Staring at Debbie's clitoris in the mirror, Teresa realized this was the fust time she had actually ever seen one. She had first become aware of the existence of her own little bud this morning, when Martin Roth had touched her there. Now she saw what one looked like. In the mirror, at that distance, it looked like nothing more than a miniature red nipple, and just looking at Debbie's made her aware her own was erecting and rubbing against her rayon panties.
"Now this is what I call one fabulous pussy," Andrea muttered, pressing kisses against Debbie's throat as her fingers continued slipping in and out of the heatedly slimy orifice. "Sheesh! She's so damned tight her cunt is just begging for someone to make oral love to it."
There was no doubt about it. The lovely brown-haired Debbie was completely trapped by the constant movement of Andrea's fingers. Her bright eyes were glistening with lust, and her thighs, previously tightly pressed around Andrea's probing hand, fighting the pressure of Andrea's fingers, were now wide apart and welcoming them as she continued wriggling. She moved in cadence with the invading digits, welcoming them into her. She lifted her buttocks a bit better allowing Andrea deeper access to her squeezing inner tunnel. She began moaning with lust.
"Come on," Andrea laughed, looking at the two men who had been hungrily watching. "Admit it! You like what I'm doing, don't you!"
"Uhhhhhhhh ... yes ... but..."
"Uh-uh! No buts," Andrea laughed, and then she leaned down and began kissing Debbie's left nipple, gently lapping at the turgid bud.
"Thatta girl," the clean-shaven Paul urged. "That's the way, Andrea. Do a good job on her. Ill give her a king-sized fuck," he said, pointing to a hard penis that was only a little longer and thicker than that belonging to the one called Al. "You just keep working on her."
"Ahhhhh, come on, don't take forever about it," Al insisted. "I was all set to shoot when Andrea stopped me. You know, making a guy hold back his come is very unhealthy."
"Look at those solid breasts," Andrea was saying to the two men as Teresa went into the bathroom to clean up. Even if she was unable to see anything, she heard very clearly.
"Yeah," Al agreed. "Debbie may have small tits, but they sure are solid. Like two alligator pears."
Andrea's hungry mouth came down again, engulfing the nipple of Debbie's right breast, this time. She began sucking noisily and hungrily, and Debbie squirmed, starting to sigh very loudly. Andrea was all over her, like an animal, a bear-a honey bear, and she had just found the tastiest hive of honey in the whole world. Her tongue flicked the now reddish-brown nipple repeatedly, making Debbie shudder and quiver, totally beyond control.
Vile! Teresa thought. Absolutely and utterly shameful. That two women should indulge in such terrible things, one with the other was something as unconscionable as the swapping that had originally been planned. Had she not been with Martin Roth, that morning, Teresa would have been certain there was no beauty in sex, at all. What these people were doing was smutty and disgusting. How in the name of heaven were people able to look at each other after having performed such unmentionable deeds? Why hadn't they allowed her to go? Did they really think that her witnessing these perverted acts would make her want to join them? But even as she thought these things, Teresa knew her body was aroused, and it took all her mental control to keep from touching herself.
The brown-haired one called Debbie was sighing loudly now, and Andrea murmured, "It's good, isn't it, honey?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Debbie nodded.
"You like the way I suck your tits and finger your cunt?"
"Better believe it," Debbie nodded. "We've been to a lot of swap parties, and I think I must have been fucked by half the men in my state, and I have to admit not one of them, my husband included, can make me feel as good as the way you make me feel."
"Watch carefully and learn, fellas," Andrea said to the two men. "This is the right way to do it."
As if in a new dream world all her own, the wriggling Debbie reached out with her small hands and cupped one of Andrea's dangling breasts. The nipple was already swollen, but when she rubbed it with her palm, it grew some more. Debbie enjoyed feeling it swell and grow until it had turned from pink to a bright red. The breast itself was a huge, soft pap, and though there was some firmness to it now, in a few short years it would start to hang like an old enema bag.
Andrea shifted a bit so her breast would begin moving toward Debbie's slavering mouth. The short brunette lifted her head, straining her neck and she began sucking strongly as she felt the large nipple run itself between her tautly anxious lips. Debbie's tongue was running over the deliciously velvety rubber, tasting the musky flavor. She began biting on it, chewing and nibbling, feeling the sponginess of the spiky extension between her teeth. She sucked as hard as she was able, slurping noisily as she tugged the nipple as far into the depths of her mouth as possible, and now it was Andrea's turn to moan and sigh.
Andrea's left hand began sliding down the trim trestle of Debbie's laddered spine as her right hand continued plunging fingers in and out of the woman's flushed vagina. Her fingers tightened around one of the smaller woman's buttocks, checking out the separation and crease where her rear cheek was joined to the lower part of her thigh, then touching the crease where the thigh was joined to her torso. Her fingers dug into the hard fullness of the buttock, then slid into the crevice between the two moonlike cheeks, touching Debbie's asshole.
Meanwhile the fingers of her other hand continued thrusting solidly in and out of the brown-haired girl's narrow love tunnel as her palm continued squashing itself against the vulva lips.
"You have one fabulous vagina," Andrea whispered. "Even your pubic hair is like soft corn silk, and the flesh of your cuntlips is so soft and tender."
Her sinking fingers rammed themselves in all the more solidly and deeply, causing one more blistering fire after another to ignite inside the wriggling, squirming woman. Debbie was sighing and gasping.
Andrea's moving, burrowing fingers shoved themselves in even more deeply. The other woman gasped and humped her rear cheeks off the mattress.
Abruptly the blonde tugged her wet and sodden fingers from the brunette's leaking womanly cave and then she lay down on top of her, belly to belly and breast to breast. The ultra-sensitive contact was unbelievably delightful to Debbie. The dark blonde hair between Andrea's open thighs pressed against the brown curls between Debbie's trembling legs, and Teresa, who had finished in the bathroom and was trying to move toward the door so she might be able to leave wondered how either of them would be able to satisfy the other, since neither had a penis.
The two women were kissing, clamping their mouths together like lovers, each one's tongue dueling with the other and trying to invade the other's oral cave. Andrea licked hungrily, tasting the other woman's slippery tongue, running her own tongue over Debbie's gums, teeth, and palate. Then she broke the kiss off, sitting back, intent now on gazing into the wetly sucking pussy over which she now had total and complete control.
Parting the sweet, cup-shaped lips of Debbie's leaking vagina with her fingers, her oral organ came lancing out and washed her own lips as she gazed with rapt attention into the fiery pink funnel beyond those taut labia. The pink-flowered delight of Debbie's cunt was now completely available to her.
From where she was standing, wrapping up the vacuum cleaner cord, Teresa realized she was clearly able to see into the deep pink well of the brown-haired woman's leaking vaginal core. How the blonde Andrea was able to bring herself to make love to that peach-like slash was something completely beyond Teresa's comprehension. This was something completely and utterly depraved and sickening. It was bad enough for two people, a man and a woman who were neither married nor in love with one another to fornicate, but this was something totally and completely obscene. It was completely beyond any kind of redemption, and she was certain these people would eventually end up burning in hell.
"Where are you going?" the one called Al asked as she tried to leave. "You haven't made up the other bed, yet."
"But I can't..." she insisted.
"Wait until they're finished and you'll be able to make the bed," he insisted. "Go on, just sit in that easy chair over there and relax. No one's going to touch you."
The wriggling Debbie was behaving more and more wantonly, thrusting her aching pelvis up and down as if anxious to feel Andrea continue.
Andrea slid her own body forward now, starting to rub the dark-blonde thatch of her own dripping pussy against the darker mat belonging to Debbie as her mouth came down on the other woman's breasts and her tongue began working over the nipples. The peaks of Debbie's breasts seemed to swell all the more in response to the pressuring tongue rubbed against each one in turn. At the same time Andrea was rubbing the dripping slabs of her own pussy against the sodden slices of the other woman's humping cunt.
Perspiration sheeted the forehead of the two females, and the gasping Debbie began wriggling insanely beneath the thrillingly undulating of Andrea's pressuring body. The squirming blonde's soft-lipped labia continued pushing and massaging the tenderly soft cunt of the other girl, letting her heated juices drip all over the dripping, sopping cunt. Each woman smelled her hot juices mixing with the fluids of the other woman. The aromatically erotic aroma made their nostrils twitch, and the effluvium also tantalized the nostrils of the observing men. The white, oily wine seeping from Debbie's ultra-sensitive channel was being sponged up by the blonde muff, and clumps of damp hair circlets formed on both pelvises in place of the usual fluffy curls. Andrea's entire body, from full, fleshy breasts to her columnar thighs was pressing all the more on the other woman, weighing her down, but it was obvious Debbie didn't seem to mind that weight, feeling nothing other than more and more heat as Andrea's sweet rictus of vagina continually sought to swallow the lips of the hot cunt beneath hers, only to feel the struggling pussy fighting back as if, like an attacking fish, it was trying to swallow her cunt.
That was when the swollen clitorises of both women came into direct contact with one another, and it was as if each had been jolted with fifty-thousand volts of electricity. Debbie jumped in spite of the weight on her, and Andrea matched her with a downward thrust, forcing their clitorises to continue rubbing against one another.
"Oh my God!" Debbie screeched and bellowed as her raw clitoris rubbed itself furiously against the heated vaginal extension belonging to Andrea.
Andrea, completely aflame now, not only crammed her dripping pussy all the more solidly against that of the other woman, but crammed more of the darker haired female's breast into her throat, her teeth succulently chewing on the flesh. Flames were brightly flaring in the kiln of her volcano-like pussy, and she felt as if burning lava was pouring from her sodden slash into the receptacle of the woman beneath her. Debbie was forcing her aching fulcrum all the higher, grinding her vagina around and around, feeling her labia rub against the other woman's sodden pussylips as her dribbling vaginal fluid mixed with the juices being spat out by the blonde Andrea's simmering cunt. Their vaginas compressed against one another very tightly, kissing one another as strongly as two mouths.
Debbie's fingers were now running maddeningly up and down Andrea's wriggling flanks, her fingers digging into solid flesh, trying to force the woman to press her vagina against hers that much more solidly.
"Hey wow!" the one called Paul gasped out loud. "A solid clit-fuck looks as good as anything they can do with their mouths. Yeah ... yeah ... come on, girls, fuck! Let's see the two of you really fuck it to one another."
There was no doubt Debbie was really feeling wild sensations. She was solidly and anxiously grinding her seething cunt with inane speed beneath Andrea's continually and relentlessly pressing labia. Both females were jerking convulsively, and it was evident the two of them were on the verge of shuddering climaxes.
The short, mustached one turned to Teresa again, saying, "Remember, don't you move from there until this is all over and you can make the bed. This is where Paul and I come in."
Walking over, he literally dragged Andrea off his own wife, and while Paul instantly jumped on Debbie, inserting his own small cock as far into her as possible, Al had Andrea on the floor and hurled himself on top of her. The hot, soaking slipperiness of her throbbing pussy completely engulfed and gobbled up the entire length of his drilling phallus. Al felt as if every last inch of his shuddering body was being engulfed by the sucking swamp draining his skinny little cock into it.
Andrea swallowed down the small man's little penis into her vaginal depths, letting it sink into her subterranean interior. Andrea was pounding on his back with her heels and her fists, beating at him in an attempt to drive what little he had even deeper as she sensed his seething cock bury what small length it had in her draining bog.
Al was pressing firmly on her rounded shoulders and arms, trying to hold her body a little away from his so he'd be able to admire her full breasts. With his knees digging into the floor, he yanked his miniscule cock all the way back until only the glistening red glans was in the blistering opening of her sucking cunt. Taking a deep breath, he slammed in with all the savage strength in his wormy body. He was fucking out of anger more than anything else, since she had made him take his cock out before he had been able to come. There would be no halfway fucking, this time. He intended screwing into her until he unleashed his entire load.
Andrea was gasping and grunting like a sow, straining to feel more cock, and angry that this self-conceited bastard had nothing more to give. Hell! The next time she'd shove his entire face and head into her cunt, and it was small enough so that all of it might fit inside. Her inflamed vagina was a blistering volcano of desire. Her throbbing vaginal muscles squeezed and tightened with all their strength, insanely sucking on the pencil-thin shortness of his almost-useless cock. Al sensed the way her labia gripped him at the very base of his shuddering cock, as if she were intent on detaching it from the rest of his body.
"Deeper, you son of a bitch!" Andrea gasped. "Shove that goddamn fucking tool of yours further into me."
Al was doing his damndest considering his lack of real equipment, trying to hit her with the longest possible battering thrusts, moving his buttocks back and forth, back and forth, on each forward movement hitting with a solid whack as his pelvis slammed into hers. Jesus! She had one deep pussy, this one had. No matter how hard he sank into her he was unable to touch bottom. Damn it all! His own wife was a better lay. But what the hell! He had started with this one, he'd finish with her.
Teresa was staring in awe, more than a little positive the man's movement was so eye-blurring fast, the friction in her inflamed tunnel would cause smoke to pour from Andrea's cunt. Eventually it would catch on fire, and the fire would fall to the carpet below her, and soon the entire room would be ablaze. Al was pumping his white-hot prick into the blonde with such power it appeared as if his moving hips were hammers literally driving the tiny brad of his throbbing cock far enough into the woman that Andrea might actually be nailed to the floor. She seemed to be completely helpless, wriggling and flailing under him like a pinned-down butterfly.
"How's it feel in there, you bitch?" Al was muttering to the woman beneath him. His vanity was such he sincerely believed it when he told her, "You're getting more cock than you'll ever be able to really handle at this point. Any harder and my cock'll be cutting into your lungs."
Debbie, lying on the bed, used to her husband's slightly skinnier and shorter wand, was receiving a somewhat more substantial vaginal massage from Paul's thrusting cock. The taller, more solidly built man was pounding his penis almost viciously into the tiny brunette's steaming slot, and Teresa was certain he was rubbing the poor woman's interior raw. Debbie's fingers were much more active than those of Andrea, massaging Paul's back, tickling his hairy asscheeks, trying her best to tug him even more deeply into her devouring quagmire. Paul's mouth was pressing itself firmly to that of Debbie. They didn't have to waste time with words, cursing one another out. The thrill of tongue on tongue was too enjoyable to let go by as his horny spike continued pronging itself into her juicy tunnel. The brown-haired female's legs were tightly wrapped around his thighs, her heels kicking his buttocks, urging him to fuck even harder and deeper. She moaned even as his mouth continued suturing itself to hers, floundering almost helplessly beneath his relentlessly constant attack.
Teresa was rooted to the chair in which she was sitting, no longer worried about threats from Al, but still unable to move, fascinated by the sight of dual cohabitation. It was plainly obvious from the heavy panting and grunts and groans that all four of them were truly enjoying themselves in spite of the fact that this was something totally shameful.
This was something she would never be able to do. She had to feel some kind of love for a man in order for her to receive something from a coupling with him. This had been obvious from the way she had responded so readily to Martin Roth, while never once enjoying what her own husband had done with her.
She stared raptly as Andrea was starting to curse more volubly, violently screaming loud and obscene words Teresa had never used, herself. How was it possible for a woman indulging in an act of love-even with a man she did not love-to curse at the man. Not once in all the years she had coupled with her husband had she ever called him anything vile. As long as she had believed herself in love with the man, she had tried making his entering her as pleasant an experience as possible. The moment she knew she no longer loved him, she stopped sleeping with him. Now here was this woman on the floor with a man obviously not her husband, sighing with lust, yet bellowing curse words, squirming and wriggling in an insane fury, using so much strength she nearly hurled the funny looking little man off her body.
"You damn, lousy, son of a bitch, scumbag," she was screaming. "Oh you mother-fucking, shit-eating son of a whore ... uuuuhhhhh ... ohhhh ..."
"Gonna come, and this time I won't stop!" Al gasped.
"OHHHHHHH YYYYEEEEAAAA .. .GGGG-GGGGHHHHHHGGGGHHHH!" Al bellowed, shovingly pumping his small cock into her with such speed his small asscheeks were a blur. His watery white semen began spurting into Andrea's sucking maw. He shrank very quickly, and even as he continued shooting he was unable to keep his penis buried in the blonde woman, and was soon spurting all over her vagina and thighs.
"AAAAIIII! YYYYAAAAGGG! GGGHHHH!" Paul was bellowing on the bed, drowning out Debbie's screeches. The two of them rolled off the bed and hit the floor with Debbie's thighs still tightly clamped around Paul's body. As a result, they kept pounding against one another.
Teresa, hearing their orgasmic yells, snapped out of her state of immobility, and running to the bed, hurriedly made it up, then turned, grabbing the vacuum cleaner, she ran from the room.
"Que desgracia!" she mutter. How disgraceful'
Finished with her morning chores, she took the vacuum cleaner back to the hall closet where it belonged, then wheeled the truck with all the dirty linen to the basement where the laundry would turn everything into clean sheets and pillowcases once again.
It was time for her to go to lunch. Hurrying to the employee dining room, she filled her plate with food, then sat and ate by herself. She was in no mood to become friendly with any of the male help. She knew what went on after working hours between the male and female help was just as bad as what she had witnessed minutes earlier.
The one thing that wouldn't leave her mind was what had happened to her, that morning. She was continually trying to push it out of her mind, but her heart felt a tugging, and her insides felt a longing.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was nearly three o'clock by the time the guests had finished their midday meal. Teresa wasn't expected to do any more chores until suppertime, and she felt it might be a good idea to go to her own room and rest. She was tired, and she knew the reason was Martin Roth. She was also restless, and the reason for that was the depravity she had witnessed.
Kicking off her shoes, she lay down on her bed and smoked one cigarette after another, going through five of them. Sleep was impossible.
She was about to get up and turn on the TV set when the door leading to the bathroom she shared with Roth opened and the man walked into her room, carrying a tray with ice cubes, a pitcher, and two glasses.
"You!" she gasped. "What will you do this time, beat me if I refuse to let you pierce me with that tent-pole you have?"
"Why do you talk that way, Teresa?" he asked, setting the tray down on the night table. "You know full well what we did wasn't some childish playing around, nor was it mere lust. I've had a lot of time to think about you and me, and I knew I had to speak to you."
"No!" she insisted. "You'll rape me again."
"I'll make you a promise," he told her, pouring martinis from the pitcher into both glasses. "I'll promise that at no time will my penis enter your vagina, at least until you ask me to do as much."
"I do not trust you," Teresa insisted.
"Though I have many faults," he admitted, "lying is not one of them."
He handed her a drink, and she reluctantly accepted it. When her fingers touched his for a brief instant, she felt sparks shooting through her body.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"Why? So you can come to my home and rape me?"
"No. It's just that when I leave here I want to see you, to be with you."
"This cannot be," she insisted. "I'm a married woman, you are a married man. Even though my husband lives in another country and we are legally separated, I have no right to sleep with another man, especially if he belongs to another woman."
They sipped their martinis, and Martin explained his relationship with his wife, saying, "Were I to divorce her, she would take half of everything I own. This way, she lives in a small house, I pay just enough expenses to keep her from calling me up, and if we do see one another, it's usually at a party where she has her own escort."
Two martinis later, Teresa found herself explaining her life story to Martin who listened sympathetically. He was the first man she had ever felt like telling her story to, and she enjoyed the fact that he didn't interrupt.
By the time she finished speaking, the pitcher of martinis was empty. Teresa put her glass on the tray and lay down. Martin lay beside her, and for a half hour did nothing but hold her. She was well aware of his erection, and knew he was struggling to keep himself under control.
Teresa began drifting off, drowsing, and suddenly came awake when she realized Martin had removed her working uniform. She was lying on the bed in her brassiere, half slip, and panties.
"Martin," she gasped. "What are you doing? You gave me your word. Please do not remove my clothes."
"I gave my word and I'll keep it," he assured her, his soothing words flowing like warm, sticky honey. He smiled again, and his smile was so open and disarming, far more cynical and knowing women would have trusted him. "I'm going to make you completely relax. I'll massage you. I often have a massage when I am tired. Lie down, sweet Teresa, don't be frightened."
"You will not rape me?" she asked.
"I promise my penis will not penetrate that sweet vagina of yours again," he told her, and he slid her half slip down and off, leaving her flesh exposed to him, save for that which was covered by her brassiere and panties.
Teresa's mind was spinning wildly. The martinis were taking their toll, and she found it all but impossible to think clearly for many minutes. Only when she felt his fingers groping at the elastic waistband of her panties did her alcohol-clouded mind clear enough to enable her to once again voice a protest at what he was trying to do. Massage or no massage, she knew perfectly well it was completely unthinkable that this man, who had twice penetrated her body with a portion of his own, should undress her. That erection of his was more terrifying than ever.
"No!" she insisted in a voice that was trembling, though she was doing her best to sound firm. "Ohh-hhhhhhhh n-o-o-o ..." she gasped, her voice trailing off into a helpless whisper as she realized Martin Roth was already pulling her panties and her stockings down to her ankles, and off.
This cannot happen again! she insisted to herself. No matter how strong my feelings are for this man, I must not allow myself to be mishandled by him again. He asks for my address, but when the convention he attends is over, we will part and never see one another again. Then III carry pain and sorrow for having let myself surrender to him. There is no future here. I must learn to protect myself.
"You must stop this, right now, Martin," she insisted as he impatiently tossed her clothing onto the floor. He looked at her, and Teresa was frightened because she saw much more in his eyes than she had ever seen in any man's eyes before. Now, with his hair combed, his face shaved, he was so handsome, and this made it all the worse because she knew nothing would develop on a permanent basis. "You gave me your word of honor. I know you are a man of honor or I would not feel as I do..." and she stopped short, realizing the admission she had just made. She did feel love for him. Why then, should she fight it, even if she knew he was using her? He had told her he was incapable of fathering any children. Why not use him? He had taught her to feel, and there was a good chance no man after him would ever make her feel good again. Why not take advantage of the fact? It wasn't fair for her to go through life being miserable, now that she had discovered just how wonderful sexual contact was.
"Please," she gasped aloud. "You promised."
"I told you I'll keep my promise," the man whispered in her ear, and for the first time Teresa realized that while she had dozed, he had undressed himself, too. He was as naked as she-more so since she still wore her brassiere. But that was gone a moment later as he whispered into her ear, "Stop fighting me, Teresa. You have been hurt enough in your life. I'm not here to bring you more pain and misery. I'm going to give you the love you so desperately need. I want you to lie back and relax while I make your beautiful body feel better than it has ever felt in its life."
His large palms cupped her full breasts, and Teresa trembled, frightened of herself as well as of him. She had to resist him, somehow.
"You promised..." she said again. "You must keep your promise. Please, Martin, I have already admitted I feel much for you. Do not shame me by using my body as if I were some cheap woman of the streets."
"Shame you? Teresa, I've had all day to think. Even in the convention room itself, I was able to think of no one but you. What you and I feel for one another is much more than mere animal magnetism, and you know it."
"Still... you promised. Let me get dressed.", "I'll keep my promise, you must prove you trust me. I want us both to remain here, this way."
"Then take your hands from my body."
"No," he said, softly. "Since the first moment I saw you in that bubble bath I knew your body belonged to me. Even though I've promised not to penetrate your womanhood with my penis, I didn't promise not to touch you. You do things to me, Teresa," he whispered in her ear, making her shudder with unwanted lust. "You do all kinds of wonderfully marvelous things to me."
"Martin... no ..." she gasped as she grew aware of heatedly delicious pleasure spreading through her body as the man continued to gently massage her breasts. She looked down, petrified with fascination, knowing she ought to remove his hands. His hot fingers pinched her nerve-filled nipples into hard, berrylike erection, and a shiver of unparalleled delight made her feel more guilty than ever. She pushed with her hands at his bare chest, but her pushing was highly ineffectual.
Teresa's naturally long eyelashes brushed against her cheeks now flushed with excitement as she allowed herself to glide back into her earlier dreamlike trance for an instant. A moment later she snapped out of it again. Featherlike fingers were softly tracing quivering paths of delicious physical sensation, and she knew she was feeling top good for it to be right.
"Stop ..." she gasped, wanting to fight him. By now the martinis had complete control over her, and she no longer had the strength to lift her hands. They fell back on the bed as she felt something hot and moist hungrily flicking over the tips of her hardened nipples. She had shut her eyes for a moment, and opening them, she saw Martin was licking with his tongue.
The smooth tongue teased the highly aroused woman's tan nipples to tingling tautness, and then the organ began smoothly snaking down over her tantalized body as his hands once again rose to knead her throbbingly aroused breasts. Down, down, down he lapped, pausing at strategic points of erotic intensity, making Teresa cry to herself for she knew there was no way to fight him off. If he were to break his word, now, she would be helpless to prevent him from entering her.
Her eyes suddenly snapped wide open as his thrusting oral member tangled in the sparse brown curls of her vagina. Madre de Dios! What was the man doing?
Martin inhaled the rich muskiness between her thighs, his dark-brown eyes wide open so he was unable to miss any of the tantalizing details of the stunningly beautiful woman's sleek and tawny body. Her skin, though not as alabaster as some blondes he had known, was still very light for a woman who had lived most of her life in a Latin-American country. The man was now uncontrollably aroused by the striking contrast between his own tan, hard-fleshed body, and her soft skin, shining so incandescently. He peered eagerly and anxiously between the soft curls of her brown vaginal hairs, his virile penis lurching to even greater length at the teasing glimpses of her rich coral labia-the lips surrounding the cunt he had twice fucked, that morning.
Although the sexually adroit architect ached to simply ram his tongue into the wet slit between her pouting cuntlips, pushing it solidly into the seething hole, he was fully aware that the longer he took teasing her, the greater her eventual passion would be. He wanted her so heated up, Teresa would finally admit to herself she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Martin was well aware of the battle going on inside her. Her resistance had to be broken down. She had to understand that the love he had for her was an all-encompassing love that included sex as a healthy part of it. For Martin Roth had made up his mind that when he left this convention, he would take Teresa with him. Even if they were unable to marry, there was no law that prevented their living together in some small town where everyone would believe they were husband and wife.
Accordingly, he sent his mouth down along the silken smoothness of her legs, tasting their delightful softness, kissing and nibbling, lapping the surface of her skin all over until her entire body jerked and twitched in uncontrollable excitement beneath him.
"Aaaaaiiiiiiiiii!" she gasped, still determined to somehow or other gain control of herself. Wrong was wrong, no matter how good it felt. She had to live with herself when all this was over.
This man must be as twisted as those four people whose room I cleaned this morning, she thought. Only perverted people kissed in places other than the mouth and the breasts. Here he had actually put his tongue against her pelvis at one point. No matter how good it felt, it was so twisted.
In spite of what was going on in her mind, Teresa was ready for what Martin had in mind, and he knew it. Yes, he was going to make her his in every way, teaching her that what passed between them was not a sickness or a distortion of love. It was love, itself.
"You have such lovely flesh, Teresa," he said to her. "You're so soft, so smooth. I'm unable to understand why your husband was never able to appreciate you."
"You say these things so I will give you permission to do what you have promised not to do," Teresa gasped. "No, Martin, though I admit I feel love for you, and I know I ought not to admit it, the truth is, I still will not allow you to do what you did to me earlier today."
Even as she said what she did, Teresa trembled, for the man's tongue was hurriedly sliding between her thighs and darting into the heatedly soaked vagina, sinking into the sodden hole that had never before been kissed by a man's mouth. It took a moment for what was happening to register in Teresa's mind, and when she realized what a horrendously horrible act was being performed on her body, she wanted to cry out for him to stop it, immediately. But even as she opened her mouth, a shudder of thrilling lightning coursed through her flesh.
"Oh no!" she sobbed. "Oh no! Martin, you must not do this terrible thing. This is something only a sick mind would think to do. How can you put your mouth down there and then expect to kiss me or any other woman, ever again?"
Yet even as her righteous protestations spilled from her mouth, Teresa slowly began to feel the truth of what was happening to her. The sinful tongue-fucking was making her frustrated body inwardly sing with sensual bliss. After a minute or two of futile attempts to apply willpower, Teresa, realized there was no way for her to resist. This might be a twisted, apostatized thing he was doing to her, but she had no way of refusing him. Her flame-filled buttocks undulated up and down, her vagina thrusting to meet the slashing attack of his lancing tongue, her thighs spread that much wider apart to make room for his burrowing head.
"Uuuuuhhhhmmmmmmm!" she moaned softly, and then her eagerly anxious hands were tangling in the long, black strands of Martin Roth's hair as her bucking hips matched the thrusting strokes of his hungering tongue.
"Yes," Martin whispered with his face between her thighs, her ears barely picking up his voice. "Let the tension out of you, my love!"
"No . . ." Teresa whimpered, but her body countered his oral thrustings. She was unable to stop herself, and one hand even released his hair so that she crossed herself, praying this reaction on her part would not keep her from the gates of heaven when her soul finally left her body.
The mere thought of what she was doing shocked her to the very core of her puritanical being, but at the same time she was filled with consuming erotic abandon. White-hot floods of inner exaltation surged through her thrashing loins, and as the man's invading tongue buried itself ever deeper inside her fire-blistered cunnus, she reveled in the obscene sensations caused by his smoothly stroking oral member sinking into her most intimate, private, feminine flesh.
"We will both be cursed for this, Martin," she wept, hating herself more than the man, because her body wanted more of what his tongue was offering.
"God does not curse people truly in love," he told her, lifting his face from the depths of her vagina, letting her see her juices running down her face.
"But the law says we do not have the right to fall in love," she sobbed, feeling his heated breath wash over her vagina.
"A manmade law says that," he told her. "Unburden your mind and allow yourself to love me, Teresa, because I love you."
She lay back, her heart beating as his face once again sank between her thighs. No matter how she allowed herself to love, now, the burden of guilt would return again, and shortly, probably with the hangover she ought to expect from all the martinis she had swallowed. She felt charged with thrilled exhilaration as his tongue continued dredging into her vaginal channel, working its way deeper into the mired depths of her trembling body.
I'm lost, she thought to herself. I'm a wickedly sinful woman. But being a good woman had been such a burden for such a long time. Her body continued automatically responding to the pressures of his mouth.
Yes, Martin knew he had her. He was delighted with the way she was responding to his frenzied oral fucking of her pussy. His moving lingual digit darted in and out even faster, massaging her throbbing clitoris each time before once again plunging itself into the sweet, heavenly depths of her seething pussy.
Readjusting his crouching body, the lust-fevered Martin Roth pressed his throbbingly turgid penis against the beautiful woman's leg. She was ready to peak at any moment, he knew it, and he was glad. Her tightly squeezing vaginal channel was vibrating uncontrollably around his plunging tongue, and her helpless whimpers were growing more and more frenzied. This was just one more step in bringing her along. Sooner or later she would understand that love was something greater than laws put down by men.
Teresa heard her own sighing whimpers and gasps as if from a long, long distance away. They mingled with the wet sluicing sounds made by Martin's mouth against her tingling vaginal puddle and the two sounds seemed to blend in perfect harmony.
An orgasm was building in Teresa's body. She was unable to believe it was happening so quickly, but it was indeed happening. How was it possible for such a thing to happen without being penetrated by her lover's penis? She was no longer in the real world, but in an entirely different world where nothing existed other than heated flesh and multitudinously joyful, ever-expanding waves of all-consuming pleasure.
Dids! I am going to come because of what he is doing with his tongue, she thought. And it is wonderful, no matter how perverted it is. It is wonderful!
"Aaaaaaiiiiiii ... siiiiii ..." she gasped, feeling the climax beginning to mount in her body. Now she was undulating totally beyond control, for the moment forgetting about the depths of degradation to which she had sunk.
Abruptly, the thrilled redheaded woman's straining vaginal muscles suddenly shuddered and melted around the strange man's wetly whipping tongue, and she let out an inhuman shriek as searing lightning burst uncontrollably through her body. Heaving and thrashing like a madwoman, she gave herself up completely to the thrillingly indescribable ecstasy exploding in her body and brain.
Her high-pitched, quavering voice echoed loudly through the hotel room, and the excited man who crouched between his thighs felt his penis stiffen, and then, without warning, he was coming, too. His face, deeply buried in the heated depths of the woman's seething pussy.
What neither of them knew was that Teresa's voice had been overheard. Her room was on the ground floor of the bungalow that was apart from the rest of the hotel, and it stood between the main hotel and the tennis courts.
Al Strunk, the scrawny little man with the big nose and bigger mustache whose room Teresa had cleaned earlier, was passing on his way back from a tennis game, and heard her shout of delight through a window that was open two inches from the bottom. Walking up to the window, he peered in and immediately recognized the redheaded maid who had sat by and watched him fucking Paul Weena's wife. Turnabout was fair play, so he watched her response to the way she was being eaten, and he had to admit, she had one fantastic body. Tonight, when she came to turn down the beds, he would contrive to get to her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Teresa lay, totally shaken by what had happened to her. She was aware Martin had come as a result of having eaten her, but she thought him no less of a man for having done so. She liked him too much, and that warning voice in her head told her to be careful. When the convention was over, he would be gone. She would never see him again.
For nearly two hours the two lay nakedly, side by side on the bed, tightly holding one another. Afterward, she rose quietly, not wanting to disturb
Martin as he slept, and she hurriedly dressed. Going downstairs to the service dining room, she had her own dinner, then went to the main dining room and waited tables. When Martin Roth came down, he smiled at her, giving no indication to the outside world what had passed between them. The only one who knew for sure was one of his arch-competitors, Al Strunk, who sat at a table at the other end of the dining room, watching the quick, efficient way Teresa waited on her customers.
Martin Roth purposely remained late, so that when all the others at his dining table were gone, he was able to talk to Teresa for a moment.
"I have a meeting at seven-forty-five," he told her. "It ought to be over by nine-thirty. Will you go for a walk with me?"
"I will be finished with my duties at that time," she nodded. "If you wish, I'll meet you in my room."
"I'll be waiting," he assured her.
Al Strunk was nothing if not sneaky. Though a top architect himself, he had gotten that way by stealing other architects ideas, and as a result was one of the most disliked men in the industry. Paul Weena was as sneaky as he, but not nearly as successful, and the two hung around together because no one else wanted anything to do with them.
That evening, while Roth, Weena, and the other architects went to the business meeting, and while the two wives were playing bingo in another room, Al Strunk returned to his room, removed his clothes, slipped on a bathrobe, and waited.
Almost an hour after he returned to his room, he heard a key turn in the lock. The door to the room opened, light from the hallway lancing inside. Then the room light went on.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Teresa said. "I had no idea no one was here. I just came to turn down the beds."
"That's all right," Al nodded. "Come on in and do it."
Theresa walked into the room and turned down the two beds.
"There," she said, ready to walk out.
"Hold on a minute," Strunk said to her. "I wanna know what you thought of the fun and games Paul and I had with our wives this morning."
"Please sir," she said, once again turning to go, "these are things about which I would rather not speak."
"Don't go yet," Al said. "If you do, I might have to tell the whole hotel that you're fucking for Martin Roth."
Teresa gasped, feeling as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating in her breast. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, and said, "'Sir, I don't know what you're talking about."
"You sure as hell goddamn well know what I'm talking about," he told her. "Now you get back in here and shut that door, or I'll tell the whole hotel.
You'll be fired, and it won't exactly help that scumbag Roth, either."
"Mr. Roth is a gentleman," Teresa insisted, immediately defending the man who had raped and seduced her.
"Roth is a big prick," Al insisted, getting to his feet. "Now you get your ass over here."
"Wh-what do you want?" Teresa asked, almost mesmerized as she slowly walked back into the room.
"I want some action from you, honey. Don't hand me shit about it being wrong. What I saw you doing with Roth today was just as wrong."
He reached out and grabbed her arms. Teresa immediately pulled his hands away from her body. "Don't you dare touch me," she gasped as he moved around her, putting himself between her and the door.
Al reached out and slapped her. Teresa stumbled back and fell on the bed. Al walked over, grabbed her arms and pulled her up. Before she knew what was happening, the scrawny man pulled her against him, pushing his tongue between her teeth. Teresa's eyes bulged with terror, feeling and tasting the man's bad breath. Gasping with horror, she pulled her head away.
"You get away from me!" she insisted. "I told you, sir, I do not like it when you touch me."
She was gasping, panting, straining to extricate herself from the strong grip of his arms. The man was treating her with a brutal roughness, very brutal, so completely different from the way Martin Roth had tenderly made love to her. She was filled with a sense of repulsion and dread.
"So you don't like my tongue?" he asked, grinning at her like some kind of evil demon. "Funny! I thought you dug tongues. From the way Martin was using his on you this afternoon, you seemed to go completely crazy. Hell! If his tongue is good enough for your hot little pussy, there's no reason why my tongue can't be good enough."
He shoved his face against hers, brushing her upper lip with his mustache as he once again stabbed his tongue into her trembling mouth.
"N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o .. ." gurgled the trembling redhead.
"You just shut the hell up, you bitch!" Al roared, his rage suddenly reaching a fevered pitch as he realized the possibilities of enjoying a pleasant evening of some willing erotica with her were just about out of the question. The maid was staring at him as if he were some kind of totally deformed monster whose very presence revolted her. Well hell! If that was the way she thought of him, then he'd treat her like some kind of beast. Time for a little humiliating degradation.
His fingers dug into her arms for a moment, then he reached up and got a tight grip on the silken textured short hair on her head. He pulled, yanking her to the floor where she now lay flat on her back.
Paying no attention to her strangled gasps of terror or to her helplessly kicking legs, he pressed on her rounded breasts with one hand, forcing her to remain pinned to the floor, and with his other hand he began undressing her. The uniform had buttons down the front and it was easy to remove. He yanked off her half slip, her pantyhose, and tugged down her panties, despite her continuing struggles.
"Stop ... stop ..." she wept. "Do not do this to me.
Grunting like a lust-crazed animal, he flipped her onto her back, unsnapped her brassiere, and pulled it from her body. Then he let her roll over onto her back again.
She lay there, nakedly staring at him as he removed his robe. When she tried getting up, he used a foot to push her back down again.
"You goddamn whoring bitch!" the man snapped, staring down at her. "You're good enough for Martin Roth, but too good for Al Strunk, huh! Well I'm going to teach you a thing or two before I'm through with you."
"Oh, no.. .no.. .sir don't do this," Teresa begged. "I have done nothing to you. Why should you wish to harm me?"
Teresa trembled as Al Strunk grinned at her. He stepped away and turned his back, saying, "You weren't too good to stay and watch what my wife and I were doing with Mr. and Mrs. Weena, today. Hell! You came, you saw. Now it's your turn to be conquered, and I'm the one to do it."
Teresa, seeing his back turned to her, grabbed her clothing and got to her feet, running for the door. Before she had gotten four yards, Al Strunk was on top of her. His arms encircled her thighs and he hurled her to the carpet again. She rolled away from him, but in so doing, rolled back into the room.
"No! No! No! No!" she loudly wept, her voice chanting the negative cry, feeling helpless and in despair as the skinny little man grabbed her hair again and dragged her to her feet. He hauled her over to the bed, and after pulling her clothing from her, throwing everything in scattered array around the room, he hurled her onto the bed. Then he stood over her, arms akimbo as he glared down at her in victorious triumph, enjoying the tears welling up in her eyes, knowing he had her under his control.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" he said, mocking her in harsh, lust-distorted tones. "You uppity bitch! Before you leave this room you're gonna suck me off!"
Although she didn't quite understand what the man wanted, Teresa knew it wasn't something good. She looked around with fear-widened eyes, blinking back the tears as she tried to find some means of getting away. There was no way out unless she wanted to try breaking through a window with her naked body, and even then there was no guarantee she would succeed. He'd probably be all over her long before she managed to make her way to freedom. Nothing was going to save her from this terrible degradation. The only way out was for the man to let her out, so demeaning as it was, she pleaded with him.
"Please, sir!" she gasped in a tone so pitifully sad that any decent man would have instantly been moved to immediate remorse. "This is so wrong. You know it. I have no love for you. Don't make me do this horrible thing. Have a heart, sir. I beg of you."
She still was unaware of precisely what it was Al Strunk wanted her to do. But a moment later, as he moved closer to the bed, his tiny penis waving toward her face, it suddenly penetrated her mind what sick thing this man wanted. He made her lie flat on her back, and then he was on his knees, using them to pin her shoulders to the mattress. He was using all his weight to keep her down so she was unable to get away, and she was unable to turn her head away from the wavering phallus that, tiny as it was, began looking bigger and bigger as it got closer and closer to her face. It was waggling from side to side just above her face.
"Oh n-o-o-o-o-o ..." she screamed at the top of her lungs, more terrified than ever, now. "Please ... this is disgusting. Take it away from me... take it away ... no-o-o-o-o-o ... I cannot do such a perverted thing. Please!"
Relentlessly, the sexually maddened Al Strunk reached behind him and slapped at her uselessly thrashing thighs beneath his taloned fingers. When her legs had stopped struggling, he turned to look down at her face, and with a broad grin, slapped his heatedly pulsating penis directly against the wailing redhead's tightly clenched lips. There was a long, wide streak of sadism and cruelty in the little man, and now an evilly demonic smile flickered over his horrible face as he pushed the head of his cock against Teresa's resisting lips.
"Mmmmmmmmnnnnmmmmnnnn!" the humiliated woman said, shuddering, refusing to open her mouth in spite of the heavy pressure.
I must not let him do this to me, her tortured mind screamed. He's a vile, horrible man. Dios! Let me die before this terrible man gets his way. I must not do something so disgusting. I would never be able to live with myself, afterward. Her eyeballs rolled in her head then stared down at the skinny little cockshaft, the head of which was still pressing against her lips, and an overpowering shudder of pure physical terror poured through her from the top of her head down to her curling toes.
The mere idea was so repugnant to Teresa, she wanted to throw up. Skinny as the little penis was, she was certain something like that in her throat would choke her, like a chicken bone. This man had to be mentally sick to even think of such a thing.
Al Strunk's gaze was firmly focused on the woman beneath him, and just looking at her fear-filled countenance, all blanched and white, caused an electrifying surge of dominating egoistic power to charge maddeningly through his bloodstream. He felt like an all-conquering, potent masculine hero, and this cringing woman was his slave to do with as he pleased.
"Come on, you bitch, start sucking my cock," he snapped at her.
Teresa shook her head with her lips still tightly clamped together as the throbbing little penis continued pushing against her mouth.
Never! She swore to herself. I'll never do it. He'll never make me put that horrible object of his in my mouth.
Despite Teresa's horrified and overpowering repugnance, she was weak compared to the man who sat on her, and there was no way for her to fight the man off. His hand was gripping her hair now, preventing her from turning her head, and he flicked his hips forward, crushing the stone-solid tip of his tiny penis against her lips while pinching her nose with his other hand so she was unable to breathe. The penis continued pulsing against her lips, bloated in its miniscule way, and a strong crotch odor filled her nostrils, making her stomach feel weak.
"You suck it!" Al gruntingly insisted, his breathing now in consistently harsh and labored gasps as he continually strove to break down the unwilling woman's resistance. "C'mon, you aren't too good to let a man stick his mouth in your crotch. There isn't any reason why a man can't shove his crotch into your mouth, too. Come on, you whore! Suck it!"
A wave of horrified self-disgust washed over the trembling Teresa. Hadn't all the events of today proved her to be precisely what the man called her? She was just that; a whore, a common, miserable slut.
"Suck my cock!" Al was insisting.
Completely overcome with loathing and detestation, Teresa was also in need of air, and since she was unable to breathe through her nose, finally parted her lips to suck in a gulp of the much-needed oxygen her brain required. Just as she had feared, the moment her lips parted, his throbbing little skinny male spear pushed straight into her unwilling mouth. She shut her lips before all of it was inside, sick with shame as he released her nostrils, letting her breathe once again. Immediately she was conscious of the slender rod between her lips, tasting the musky saltiness mixed with a certain acridity. Her tongue pressed against the bottom of the penis, feeling its smooth texture.
Dios, ayudame! God help me! She thought. But it was too late. She was submitting to this terrible sinful act, and as far as she was concerned, she was as low as any woman might possibly sink. In her own mind, no woman was lower or more despicable.
"Rub my balls with your hands," Al insisted, twisting his own hand in her hair. "Keep licking and sucking my cock. Kiss it all over!" He was grunting and groaning above her, digging fingers into her scalp so forcefully she was afraid his nails might cut through the bone and dig into her brain. "Go on, you bitch! Suck me good, really good!"
Teresa was helpless, unable to do anything other than obey. Shivering with revulsion, the red-haired woman tentatively reached up with one hand and lightly cupped his small, boyish testicles as they bounced against her chin. At the same time she firmly sucked on the man's onion-shaped cock-head, letting her tongue wash the heated flesh.
"Just keep those throat-muscles relaxed, and don't try anything funny with your teeth," he insisted.
The poor woman gasped an unintelligible plea, finding it difficult to breathe with her cheeks hollowed and sucking around the penis. Now he thrust it deeper, and the tip barely managed to touch the back of her tongue, not quite reaching her throat. His strong-smelling pubic hair was rubbing her lips, and she felt the bristly curls scrub very uncomfortably.
"Ymight as well learn with my cock," Al told her.
"One of these days you might meet some guy with a bigger cock than mine, though I don't think it's really possible, and the guy won't be as nice to you as I am, or have the patience I have. He'll rape that mouth of yours and choke the hell outta you."
Teresa mumbled another unintelligible reply as his hand remained tightly in her hair, holding her head up while he pumped his cock in and out. He was laughing, enjoying himself, feeling as if he were lord of the universe.
Teresa shut her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips unconsciously sucking the penis that moved in and out of her mouth. The red, throbbing knob was slammed into her oral cave repeatedly, but was unable to reach into her throat. She sucked, letting it run over her tongue as the spongy head scraped her palate. Her lips remained tightly pursed around the penile head. There was nothing else for her to do but accept this terrible humiliation, though she would never be able to face Martin Roth again, afterward. Perhaps she deserved this horror for having allowed herself to surrender to Martin in the first place. Maybe this was her punishment ... she wasn't certain. Her whole world had suddenly become a smelly groin shoving itself into her face. His wiry pelvic hairs almost cut her nostrils as he rubbed his pubis against her nose. Some hairs brushed her eyelids which she was forced to shut to protect her eyes.
Al Strunk watched the helpless woman he had forced to suck his cock, wondering if he might be able to raise another erection after shooting into her mouth with the idea of fucking her the regular way. Yeah! He hated snooty pussies like this one, who looked with disdain on what he had been doing with Andrea Weena, and yet have the nerve to go to her own room and "allow" some guy to suck her pussy. Well hell, he felt like a one-man revolution against the bitches of the world as his two hands tightly held Teresa's head, working her lips back and forth all the more quickly on what he believed to be an immense and choking cock. Teresa realized the sooner she made him come, the faster she'd be able to leave, so taking the cue, she decided she was ready to do anything to end this horrible act.
"Ohhhhhhh ... that's much better, honey," Al told her. "You're starting to do an acceptable job. Now just keep sucking that way, and I'll be very happy."
Teresa gagged each time the head of his penis pushed to the rear of her tongue, afraid it might suddenly grow longer and shove itself into her larynx. The tip continually brushed the roof of her mouth, and her hollowed cheeks tightly wrapped themselves around the blood-stiffened wand. The muscles in her mouth were milking the wand, and she knew his seminal spurting was the only way to end all this. His thin cock became even stiffer and harder as swirling, lust-heated, blood-bloated flesh made the little wand more turgid than ever. A seething pool grew more and more inflamed in the man's heavy, leathery testicles.
"Keep going, keep going," Al insisted.
He was almost there. He felt the tide inside himself rising higher and higher, and he made no move to restrain it or hold it back. He found her mouth to be a wonderful thing-better than his wife's, and better than Andrea Weena's. He hoped his balls had manufactured a lot of the stuff. He wanted to pump gallons down this woman's throat. Yeah, he'd shoot a hot, sticky river into this bitch's mouth, and that'd give her something to really remember him by.
His hands were tightly squeezing her working head as he pounded his cock in and out of her sucking mouth. He was leaning forward, almost lying full length on her, pressing his groin down, crushing her pretty face in his sweat-dampened brillo-like hair. He pushed his cock far, far into her mouth, straining to reach her throat, thinking, Here it comes! It was rising, rising, rising inside the shaft of his penis, and with the full length of his organ shoved as far into her mouth as possible, he stiffened, then yelled, "AAAAIIIIEEEEAAAA-AAGGGGHHHHHH!" His sperm exploded wetly into her mouth and splashed toward her gullet in thin, dribbling spurts.
"Now! Now! Now!" he gasped. "Suck it! Suck it! Suck every drop of it, you cunt!"
Without thinking, Teresa swallowed, more to protect herself so she would be able to continue breathing, than anything else. It was like a watery mushroom soup. He clutched her head more and more tightly, thrusting his swiftly wilting organ into her mouth with repeated thrusts.
Neither he nor Teresa were aware of the door opening. Paul Weena had grown bored with the architect's meeting, and taking Andrea away from the bingo game, had decided to go for a drive. They had come back to the room they now shared with the Strunks to get a jacket and a sweater.
CHAPTER SIX
The two Weenas shut the door and stood rooted to the spot, staring at what was happening.
"Well, well, well," Paul Weena said to his wife. "Looks like we're just in time for some fun. Too bad we had to leave Debbie behind, or we really would be balling."
"It's the maid," Andrea said to her husband. "I recognize her. Our boy Al has really hit it big."
The two Weenas were already undressing, and Teresa, her face smeared with semen, was gasping, "Oh no! No! No! Please, let me dress and leave."
"That's a laugh," Paul Weena told her. "You're gonna do for me what you did for Al, here."
"Ay Dios! No! I would rather die."
"Now hold on," Andrea said, removing the last vestige of her clothing. "Don't terrify the poor woman. I think she ought to be given a little gentle loving, first. After all, once I gave Debbie a little gentle loving, she was amenable to everything."
"That's true," a tired Al Strunk nodded.
"Well then," Paul said to his wife, "give her a little gentle loving."
He grabbed his wife and tossed her onto the bed, on top of Teresa, who uttered a wail of hysterical despair. She squirmed out from beneath Andrea, leaped off the bed, and ran to the farthest corner of the room. She wondered if the nightmare would ever end as her mind reeled with shock and mortification. No matter to what horrible and sinful depths she sank, there was another even more degrading level to fall to. Now they wanted her to let this horrible woman make love to her. She had seen the terrible things Andrea had done with the woman called Debbie. Now Andrea wanted to do the same things with her. How disgusting!
But all her thoughts came to a sudden and abrupt end as the terrified red-haired woman saw the anxiously naked Paul Weena step toward her, looking menacing in spite of the fact that his penis wasn't much larger than that of Al Strunk. He took one step toward her, and then another, stalking her as if she were some kind of wild beast, and she realized it was only a matter of seconds before he put his hands on her. Cowering in the corner, she stood there, waiting with her heart pounding in her breast, her firm mammaries wobbling from side to side with terror, knowing the dreadful moment when he would grab her was at hand.
Andrea stood there, her hand on her hip, feeling a thrilling shudder ripple through her as she watched her husband continue to advance on the helplessly naked maid. This was to be another new conquest for her. Andrea loved swinging with women as much as she did with men. She knew she would shortly have this red-haired woman begging for more. They all did.
For Andrea, Paul's penis was just right-not too large, not too small. True, she was capable of handling much larger ones, but she felt extremely comfortable with Paul inside her, and she knew other women usually liked his size, too. True, there were some who believed the bigger a penis was, the better it was, but Andrea had learned the truth. The atmosphere of savage sexuality permeating the luxurious bedroom pulsed excitingly through her bloodstream, and she ran her eyes over the cringing Teresa with obscene anticipation.
"No ..." Teresa was begging. "Do not do this thing ..." she screamed loudly and frantically.
Andrea sucked in her breath as she watched her husband leap for and grab the protesting woman, hurling her slender figure back onto the bed she had used with Al Strunk. Strunk was now lying on the other bed, watching everything, trying to recover from the blowjob he had just received.
Paul stood there, his fists knuckled into his hips as he stared at the cringing Teresa, his burning breath coming from his lungs in harsh gasps, and then he turned to his nakedly blonde wife.
"Come on, Andy," he said to her. "Get that lovely ass over here and put it on the bed and start kissing this one the way you worked on Debbie. Hell! She saw the whole thing, so she'll get the idea."
Perfectly cool and completely poised, enjoying the bizarre situation completely, the large-breasted blonde woman slowly approached the bed on which all of them lay. Three pairs of eyes were glued to her and she reveled at the attention she was receiving. Andrea loved being the center of attention wherever she was. She consciously swayed her boyish hips and began undulating her fairly round buttocks. Calmly, slowly, moving very gracefully, she positioned her long-limbed figure on the bed beside the woman whose eyes were now clenched tightly shut with despair, then gently wrapped her arms around the shivering body and began to caress Teresa's tensed muscles in the silken smooth roundness of her shoulders.
"That's it!" her husband began loudly gloating.
"Aw come on, give her a kiss," Al Strunk called out.
Teresa trembled as she felt herself being uncoiled and pressed into the mattress. She shivered when Andrea's lips very lightly and very gently pressed against her own extremely reluctant mouth. She had been conditioned to believe it was horribly wrong to have any kind of a relationship in a physical sense with a woman, and despite the fact that Andrea's smooth, easy touch was gentle and almost a relief after the vile way Al Strunk had manhandled her, she was unable to instinctively not pull away.
"How can you people do this thing to me?" she gasped, crying out in acute shame. "I did nothing to hurt any of you. It was all of you who forced me to stay here this morning when I wanted to leave. Now you abuse me, too."
Yet even as her mind decried the perverted touch of Andrea's feminine hands and lips now intimately caressing and loving her cringing body, Teresa discovered she was involuntarily starting to calm down. The other woman's gentle fingers were teasing her, dancing along the length and breadth of her back as Andrea very talentedly began rubbing Teresa's tightened muscles while pushing her own swollen mastoids against the red-haired woman's proudly straining mounds so that their nipples touched, just as her nipples had rubbed against those of Al Strunk's wife, earlier.
"You, maid, you touch her, too, touch my wife," Paul Weena began insisting. "Come on, start using those lips. While you're at it, fondle her breasts."
Another trembling shudder of disgust coursed through Teresa and she realized she hated these people. They were animals, all insisting she do the terrible things against all decency. Yet, as her moving fingers grazed the satin-smooth skin of Andrea's arched back, running down over the Blight curve of the woman's hips and fully bloated buttocks, a strange feeling, a surge of wanton pleasure began pulsing and shooting through her body. Not wanting to, she found herself starting to return Andrea's kisses, allowing her thrillingly aroused body to respond to the other woman's sinuously wriggling form.
"Yeah, now you're getting it," Paul Weena rasped. "Come on, you hot twats. Get a move on!"
"She's a fast learner," Al told him, feeling his own penis starting to stiffen and grow again.
Though his voice sounded rough, there was no real danger in Paul Weena. On the contrary, he was aroused and excited, feeling thrilled at seeing another woman conquered by his wife. He loved to watch Andrea go to work on these other women, knowing his wife was softening them up so he'd be able to enjoy them. Now it was his turn to feel like a master and a ruler, and his hand reached down and unconsciously began massaging his own heatedly aroused cock.
"Go down on this one," he shouted to his wife. "Suck her cunt."
"Por Dios! You are insane!" Teresa screamed out at the man. "How can you ask any woman to do a thing like that?"
Even as she spoke, Teresa felt her vagina starting to moisten as she remembered the forbidden delight she had experienced from Martin Roth's tongue in the mid-afternoon. Still, for a woman to put her mouth on such an intimate place was something utterly terrible. The very evil of this situation had suddenly aroused Teresa, in spite of the shame her mind was experiencing.
Andrea didn't hesitate for a moment. The slinky, sultry blonde woman made certain Teresa was lying flat on her back, and she began licking a lewdly licentious wet trail over the trembling Latin woman's body, pausing to pay a special oral tribute to Teresa's ripely swollen mammaries with their chocolate tan tips. Then her mouth slowly kissed its way down to the tiny dimple that was Teresa's navel. Intentionally taking all the time in the world, wanting Teresa to learn to accept this degradation, she lapped toward the brown curls covering the V resting between Teresa's tender thighs.
"Yeah," Paul insisted. "Thatta way, Andy. Suck that cunt of here!" he encouraged as his hand jacked back and forth on his shuddering penis.
On the other bed, Al Strunk now sat up, his hand clasping his half-hard cock. A little longer and it would get nice and stiff, and he'd be able to fuck the maid again. His attention, like that of Paul Weena, was completely taken up by the sight of Andrea's skillful tongue wantonly darting up and down Teresa's coral cuntal furrow. The blonde woman was starting to work on the other woman's little clitoral nodule. She sucked at the tiny pellet until the tiny, nerve-filled little bullet had surged into total miniature erection.
"Aaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Teresa gasped, unable to stop herself. Whether it was a man or a woman, it did feel good. A mouth on her vagina was wonderful.
By now, the redheaded woman was only too well aware she had been corrupted by these people, feeling her will-power draining away from her. Waves of thrilling liquid lightning charged through her desire-filled loins with each gliding stroke of the blonde's wonderful lingual organ as it played across her moistening vaginal furrow. When this evil woman began pulling on her clitoris with her lips, all Teresa's resistance simply fell away.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh yessssssssssss!" she moaned again, finding herself drifting on soft, cloudlike dreams of sensuality. Her dreamlike state was suddenly interrupted by the voice of Paul Weena, who said, "You, maid, you do it, too!" The man was overcome with his absolute power at the moment, and Teresa, understanding what he wanted, felt herself more filled with shame than ever before. "Kiss Andrea's cunt and lick it, the way she's licking yours."
The Latin woman was rocked back to stark reality by this cruel order. For a moment she was completely paralyzed with shame.
Dibs Mio! I certainly cannot touch another woman between her thighs with my mouth. This is too much. No!
"Come on, start licking that pussy," Paul insisted, now half-maddened by the sadistic lust overwhelming him. "Move that mouth onto my wife's cunt."
"I cannot do such a thing," Teresa gasped, sobbing as tears stung her eyelids and fell down her cheeks. "Please do not make me do such a horrible thing."
"Hey now, take it easy," Andrea whispered to her, calming her down as she eased her own body next to Teresa's curvaceous form. Once more she kissed Teresa, and Teresa tasted her own vagina on the other woman's mouth as their breasts once more pressed together, and their sparsely curled pussies wildly rubbed against each other, as clitoris pressed against clitoris, just as Andrea had done it with Debbie. Then Andrea whispered, "You'd better do as Paul says, honey, he can be mean."
"I can't do such a thing," the horrified woman gasped again, tearing her mouth from Andrea's, spitting out the taste of her own vagina, struggling to get up. "What you want me to do is horrible and disgusting, and I won't do it."
"Oh yes you will, you cunt," Al Strunk shouted, "or I'll tell everyone what I saw this afternoon. Andrea, get off her and lie down. We'll make her get on top of you."
Delighted with Al's suggestion, and thrilled by the idea of having her own vagina masticated, Andrea allowed herself to slide off Teresa and lay on her back beside the sobbing maid.
"Come on," Paul insisted. "Move your face between my wife's thighs," he grunted, an ominous edge of impatience lacerating his voice.
Teresa rolled over on her tear-stained face, but made no move toward Andrea. Her slender loins were fearfully shuddering and she was too distraught to do anything other than cry.
At the sight of Teresa's vulnerably upraised buttocks, a plan that had been formulating in the back of Al's mind swam to the conscious part of his brain. That was one beautiful ass, and he eventually intended sodomizing it.
"Get down the way I said," Paul insisted, "and start licking my wife's cunt," and he grasped Teresa by the ankles and pulled them back until she was lying flat on her belly. Then he tugged her around as Andrea surrounded her with her thighs.
Andrea smiled, wantonly. It had been a long time since she had felt the soft touch of a woman's lips on her vaginal flesh, and the wonderfully tasty flavor of the other woman's fluids, still lingering in her own mouth, had roused her appetite for this kind of carnal indulgence.
"Do it!" Andrea urged. "Kiss my cunt! Come on, come on, you can do it! It's easy!"
Realizing she was beaten, that there was no possible way for her to escape this horrible and sinful degradation, the miserable Teresa fought back her inner revulsion and tentatively thrust her tongue toward the fragrant, rose-pink flesh of the blonde woman's glistening cunt. At first she recoiled a little from the tart, unfamiliar moistness, but as her tongue unwillingly continued to delicately dab at the petal-like vaginal labia, she once more found herself filling with curiosity and thrills.
"Ooo-oo-oo-ooh ... yessssssssss ..." Andrea sighed, reveling beneath the licking tongue of the helpless Teresa. "Kiss me down there. Kiss my clitoris!" She arched her back to press her throbbing vaginal slit all the more tightly against the unwilling maid's tear-streaked face, yearning with all her inner being for the thrilling rapture of such a licentiously achieved orgasm.
For some reason the sound of Andrea's obscenely gasping voice in her ears seemed to disperse the inhibitions Teresa had built up over a lifetime. She trembled, recalling how wonderful it had felt to have Martin's tongue swathing through her own vagina. That was something she had finally accepted, even before she had reached her orgasm, realizing the man had loved doing it as much as she had loved having it done. Andrea had not hesitated, either. She had loved doing it. Did it really matter whether one was a male or a female? For the first time, Teresa was beginning to wonder what was true perversity, and what was perversity in the minds of certain people. For the first time she began to understand that people did these things not merely to give pleasure to others, but to receive pleasure from giving.
So this was what it was like to be depraved. For the first time in her life she began to understand what went on in the minds of these people. She had no doubt but that something like this was even better when with a man she loved, a man like Martin Roth-it was possible for her to love a man after knowing him for less than a day. Still, love was not really necessary. The body automatically reacted and compensated for the emotions.
The stern warnings of her conscience, a conscience aroused by other people had always overcome her inner sensations, and now, for the first time, with these people for whom she had no feelings whatsoever save those of hate, she was feeling aroused and thrilled. To Teresa, a vagina was a necessary part of a woman's body, but she had never really thought of it as something pretty, until now. The one at which her tongue was lapping looked like a petaled flower, a dew-dampened tea rose.
Without realizing it she was now almost eagerly snaking out her pink tongue, letting it tickle the tiny button of the blonde woman's shuddering clitoris. It jerked and hardened in continuous response, and her fierce dislike for this woman who seduced other women began fading.
"Go! Go! Go!" Paul was yelling, egging her on, encouraging her.
"Look at the way she takes to pussy," Al Strunk laughed. "Hey Paul-buddy, we got ourselves a real livewire, here. What say when she finishes with Andrea you and I really thrill her with a sandwich."
"That sounds like a fabulous idea," Paul nodded.
Feeling inwardly buoyed with a sense of joyful pleasure, the redheaded Teresa began increasing the intensity of her obscenely lapping tongue. She whirled her oral organ around the other woman's tautly extended clitoral capsule, letting her hands glide over her silken-skinned tummy to caress the really full mounds of Andrea's huge breasts. Teresa had no idea why she was touching the other woman's breasts, save for the fact that she always enjoyed feeling Martin's hands on her own breasts. This woman's breasts were larger and fuller than her own, though not quite as round, nor were they as solid and resilient as her own breasts, but she massaged and rubbed them, anyway.
"Mmmmmmmmm good ... good ..." Andrea was purring. "I really like that. Don't stop!"
A thrilling sense of lascivious delight was charging through the body of Paul Weena's wife as she enjoyed the exquisite sensations being continually built up in her by the pressure of Teresa's moving tongue. The oral digit swirled through her aroused pussy again and again, but Andrea also felt another triumph, knowing she had conquered another female, bringing her around to her own personal way of thinking. Her glittering eyes flitted from the lush, fair-skinned body of her latest female lover to the standing nakedness of the two men lasciviously enjoying what they were staring at. Andrea tingled with ecstasy as she realized she was going to have a stupendous orgasm, and that another prim and proper prude had strayed from the straight-and-narrow path of total idiocy to wonderfully crooked path of debauchery. Teresa was finally inducted into the world of thrilling carnal corruption, and she was enjoying it as much as everyone else.
"I'm ... uhhhhhh ... going to come ..." she gasped, and Teresa, feeling the quickening responses in the other woman's body, lapped all the more strongly, her tongue slurping through the creaming depths of Andrea's slick trough. She wanted the woman to come. It was time she brought happiness to someone without fighting it. How she wished this were Martin, and she was sucking his penis.
Andrea was stiffening, clenching her thighs tightly around Teresa's head as her body became like a rigid board. And then the thrills building in her suddenly peaked as Teresa's tongue flatly massaged her vaginal bud again and again.
"AAAAAYYYYYAAAVfe GGGGGHHHHHHH-UUUUNNNNNNGGG HHHHH!" she screeched out, her body leaping high off the mattress again and again, thrilling to the swishing way the other woman's tongue continued working through her body.
"Your wife sure knows how to come!" Al said to Paul. "I'll give her that, even if her cunt's a little loose."
"Her cunt's not loose," Paul insisted, watching Andrea writhe and squirm on the mattress, her thighs tightly clinging to Teresa's head. "It's just that your wife has an exceptionally tight pussy."
"Well," Al told him, "we can always settle it by seeing how the maid's cunt compares to that of the two wives."
"It's an idea," Paul nodded.
"Nan!" Al told him, "I think the sandwich idea is much better."
"Which hole d'you want?" Paul asked
"I'm going for the asshole," Al told him.
"With you in her ass, that'll make her cunt even tighter than your wife's pussy."
"Don't you like tight cunts?" Al asked.
"Love 'em," Paul admitted as Andrea slowly began recovering from her climax.
"So then, let's get on with it."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Al Strunk was already lying flat on the other bed when Paul walked over to the one where Teresa had just gone down on Andrea and lifted the maid from his wife.
"What are you doing?" Teresa asked, suddenly snapping out of the euphoria in which she had been floating.
"Al and I are going to give you a little pleasure, and then you can get dressed and leave," Paul told her.
"But haven't I done enough?" Teresa gasped. "Please sir, please let me go."
"You've been giving out pleasure," Paul told her, his grip around her body from behind very firm, his hands clutching her rounded breasts, "now Al and I have to give you pleasure. Why we'd never forgive ourselves if we let you go without making sure you enjoyed your stay here."
"Please ..." she begged, knowing immediately that pleading with these men was going to be useless.
"Just enjoy," Andrea called out from the other bed. "Hell, honey, when you can't Fight 'em join
'em." "
Teresa's legs were flailing as Paul Weena lifted her up in the air, bringing her down so that her thighs were straddling Al Strunk's body. Strunk used his hands to tug her thighs wider apart, then gripped her hips and guided her body lower, lower, lower, until Teresa felt the shuddering penis slowly poking its nose into the seething vaginal tightness between her loins. She struggled, but her body sank iower and lower on the slender penis until it was all the way inside her, and her inner thighs were resting on Al's hips.
"Now come on," Paul said to her, bending her body forward so that her breasts were dangling over Al Strunk's face. "Just keep that pretty little ass of yours steady, and I promise you you'll really feel good."
Teresa trembled, feeling the man's fingers starting to probe between the cheeks of her buttocks which were sticking up in the air. He was looking for, and finally found, the little crinkle that was her anal opening. Startled, she turned her head around as Al wrapped his arms around her body to keep her from sitting up. Once again, the Latin woman was filled with shame, having no idea what it was this horrible man intended doing to her, wishing there were some way to end this continuous nightmare. What was this man doing to her? What kind of pleasure did he get from probing into the most forbidden of her openings with his finger? At this point she was positive she was damned beyond any kind of redemption. No priest would even listen to a confession of the truth.
She jumped, feeling the man's outstretched finger pressing against her tightly puckered rectum. That was when she realized the two men had been talking while she had been "eating" the blonde woman's vagina. They had said something about a sandwich, and at the time she had passed the thought off, thinking they had been talking about food. But no, they hadn't been talking about something to eat. They had been talking about forming a "sandwich" with her as the meat and themselves as the pieces of bread. Just as Martin Roth had probed with his fingers into her vagina, widening it and making it wet before entering it with his penis, so this man, the one they called Paul, was probing her rectum with his finger, and the pressure of the very skinny finger was beginning to bother her.
"Hey," Al shouted. "I was the one who was supposed to get her ass, remember."
"Another time," Paul Weena insisted. "Say, how is her cunt?"
"It's even tighter than Debbie's."
"Yeah, well pretty soon I'll be making it even tighter."
"Oh you can't mean to do what I think you wish to do," Teresa gasped. "Please, sir, please, surely you would not do something that horrible to me!"
"You're a smart guesser," Paul told her, moving his finger deeper into her rectum as she remained in the forced position Al Strunk held her. The finger sank all the way into her rectum, then pulled out, then moved in again, then pulled out. Soon he was using two hands, using his thumbs to tug her ass-cheeks farther apart until Teresa felt rushes of cool air shooting into her rectal tunnel, chilling her warm interior.
"You have to be sick to do a thing like this," Teresa gasped. "No sane man would even think of touching a woman back there. Sir, I beg you, do not do this thing."
"Lady, you shut your face," Paul said to her, his mean countenance screwing up with even more anger. Teresa detected a tremendous sexual hunger in the sound of his voice, and she realized for the first time that the man was truly aroused by what he was going to do. Her anus thrilled him as much as her vagina had thrilled Martin Roth. Was it vaguely possible that what this man wanted was not a perversion, but was a normal sexual practice amongst people like himself?
Al Strunk was grabbing her body at the hips now, and he was lifting her violently up and down, up and down until, despite the terror and the anguish she was feeling, she was almost delirious with rapture because of the ecstatic feelings she was enjoying caused by the pulsating phallus continually fucking in and out of her tightly squeezing vaginal tunnel.
"Stop all this dumb worrying," Al told her, squeezing her body with his hands, his tongue licking at one of her nipples. "Once Paul widens that tight asshole of yours a little, hell fit his cock into that tunnel back there, and we'll both fuck you at the same time. "I'm telling you, you'll just love it!"
Teresa gasped, wanting to shout to them they mustn't do this, tears filling her eyes as she realized the vile and unnatural act this man was planning to do to her. This strange man, who she had seen fornicating with the wife of the man whose penis now impaled her vagina, was about to bury his own penis in the one hole in her body that eliminated waste matter. Dear Lord! This was one shameful thing she would never be able to survive. Dios! She certainly would never be able to face Martin Roth again after undergoing such terrible degradation. These were terrible people. They had wealth, but they were ill-mannered indecent, uncouth, nasty people with hearts of stone. The feelings she had enjoyed with Martin were good and pure compared to this. Even if she never saw Martin again, she would always have these wonderful memories to treasure. But these people were giving her horrible memories, and she hated them more with every passing moment. The two men were behaving like sick, degenerate fiends, and the woman was willing to go along with anything and everything they wanted. Both were evil sadists, intent on hurting her and causing pain.
Teresa tried tugging her buttocks from the squeezing hands of Paul Weena, but it was a completely useless attempt as the man once again probed between her cheeks with his finger, teasing her ragged outer anal mouth, and then mercilessly skewering the small elastic doughnut hole that was her rectum. Abruptly he pushed his finger deeper than ever, moving it around inside her.
Teresa clamped her mouth shut, determined to remain silent and not give them the pleasure of hearing the pain she was feeling. No other man or woman had ever touched her there before, not even that animal to whom she had been married for so many years. She clamped her teeth together, feeling the finger wiggle around inside her again, this time causing no undue strain. She clamped her lips tightly closed whenever any kind of feeling invaded her, not wanting anyone in the room to know the sensations oozing through her.
Andrea was nakedly seated in the easy chair in which she had sat when witnessing the lesbianic act between the two wives, that morning Though she probably would have been able to join in the fun, she decided to let the two men have their ball with the redheaded maid. Hell! It wasn't often she saw her husband so virile. A new woman always made his cock stand stiff for at least two or three days, and she'd be fucking with him like crazy as time went by. Besides, the maid had one helluva body. Interfering would only enhance the pain the other woman might feel while detracting from her pleasure. Considering how well her cunt had been licked, Andrea felt Teresa deserved the orgasms she was certain her husband would bring about. There was also the possibility Al Strunk would build a climax in the woman, as well, but he did have a tendency to come quickly.
Grinning with heated arousal, wildly thrilled at the prospect of fucking this woman's ass even with Al Strunk plumbing her vaginal depths with his miniscule excuse for a penis, Paul Weena began carefully rotating his finger in the tightly puckered little opening as the harried Teresa's slender body was continually propelled up and down the slender, skinny, straw-like length of Al Strunk's tiny penis. Teresa closed her mind, shutting out the finger probing her rectum, concentrating on the thrill in her vagina being built up by the penis moving in there, though she wondered if it was all of an inch in diameter. Little by little her body began relaxing, her hips moving up and down, up and down to meet the weak up-thrusts of the hot little brad continually making slurping noises as it pushed in and out of the tightness of her seething pussy.
In her mind, Teresa compared Al Strunk to Martin Roth and decided, not only was Roth better, but her husband, who had never really given her any kind of pleasure, was also better. Not that Al Strunk particularly cared. He was intent on pleasing only himself, with no regard as to what she felt. He remembered how Andrea had pleaded with him to hold back his own climax earlier in the day, and he had done so only after extracting all kinds of promises from her. After awhile, his hands were lifting and lowering her while he refused to move his own body in any way.
The finger plumbing her rectal depths was starting to build the strangest thrills in Teresa. As time continued passing, she realized the finger actually felt good. He pushed a second finger in to join the first, stretching her all over again, and once more the redheaded woman felt pain. He was pushing into her ass with no regard to her feelings. This Paul was no better than the one called Al. Teresa once again attempted to pull herself away from the rectal anguish the man's fingers were causing her.
Her heart sank as Al bit her nipple and pressed down with both hands on her hips, keeping her solidly in place so Paul's two thrusting fingers were able to continue sodomizing her. Abruptly, with no warning whatsoever, Paul suddenly yanked the two fingers from her rectal depths again. Al's hands clamped themselves all the more tightly around her trim and slender waist, and abruptly Teresa felt herself being lifted off the tiny wire-thin penis in her vagina. That was when she realized how tightly her walls had surrounded the penis. She had actually started to enjoy the movement of Al Strunk's cock inside her.
Behind her, Paul Weena gripped her squeezing asscheeks, pulling and tugging her closer and closer to the rigid skewer of his throbbingly dripping penis. He pushed the hot tip of his narrow wand into the wet quicksand of her vagina, where Al's penis had been, moments before, then he tugged it out, wet and dripping with her secretions, and he began guiding it forward until it touched the narrow little crinkle of her brown little anal opening.
Teresa trembled, terrified of what she was about to feel. She knew there was no way she'd be able to take this man's throbbing penis in the narrowly squeezing depths of her tightly clenching rectum without feeling anything other than extreme agony. She wriggled, struggling in the hope of getting free, doing her best to pull her buttocks away, but the ttwo men held her tightly in place, and she felt Paul's almost hairless loins behind her as his burningly solid phallus now moved up and down in the narrow crevice of her helplessly upturned buttocks.
There was no hope for her. Once more she was a helpless victim, and once more she was about to be used for the pleasure of others.
Now she felt a direct pressure against the sensitive bud of her extremely narrow anal stricture. The pressure was soft at first, but with the passing of seconds, it became more and more intense, relentlessly getting harder and harder. Then there was actual pain.
"Hhhhhhhuuuuunnnnnnhhhhhh ... aaaaaiiiii-iieeeeeeee... no... no... por favor... no mas... don't... eeeeyyyyyyaaaagggggghhhhhhhh ..."
Her long, loud shriek pierced the heavy hanging silence in the room as she suddenly felt the clutchingly tight, resisting nether ring of her rubbery sphincter suddenly give way before the powerfully ramming pressure of the man's stiff penis. In a blistering lancing of total wanton agony, the licentiously bloated throbbing penile point managed to finally press its way just inside her tightly squeezing sphincter with a wicked popping sound. The very pain of the perverted action shuddered through every wanton nerve-ending in Teresa's body until she felt the stiffly curling hairs trying to scrub the cheeks of her buttocks.
Teresa gasped and wept incoherently, still babbling for mercy though she knew none would be forthcoming. Even as she cried, Paul's throbbing length of slender steel continued slamming even more deeply into her, rubbing against the agonizingly stretched and puckered flesh of her opened anal tunnel, causing waves of anguish to move before it. The poor woman moaned with quivering agony as the penis sank as deep as possible. The slender, heated penis twitched and shuddered and spasmed with flexing movements, thrilled as it was to be buried in a rectum. The head was not quite able to reach her colon, sparing her a bit of pain as it was now buried to its hairy base.
Without waiting for her ass to adjust to the thickness of his penile breadth, Paul started powering his thundering phallus in and out of her rectum, and Al, who had kept his own shivering little nail of muscle from the seething depths of her quivering vaginal tunnel wrapped his hands around Teresa's slender waist again, and pulled her narrowed vaginal orifice right back over his heatedly upstanding penile shaft. Teresa moaned in total despair now that she felt the two penises filling her body. They might have been small, but moving in and out of her together, they felt gigantic.
Teresa shut her eyes, not wanting to look at the ugly man beneath her who was pumping his body hotly into hers. She concentrated solely on her sense of feeling, and as a result decided the penis in her rectum felt considerably thicker than the one in her vagina, not only because it definitely was thicker, but because her anal tunnel was so much narrower. She sensed the way the two male organs rubbed one against the other with only a thin elastic membrane of flesh separating the two channels. She wriggled constantly, hoping to free herself of the two impaling organs, aching to be away from these people once and for all. Her movement made her two tunnels widen a little, and as a result, the pain in her rectum slowly began disappearing, changing to the strangest kind of pleasure
Slowly but surely she began to respond to the twin staking of her trembling body, moving her thighs back and forth and up and down, feeling one penis move into her as the other slid out. Thrillingly exquisite pleasure, the like of which, in her wildest dreams she had been unable to foresee, wafted through her tremblingly sensitive body as she found herself buffeted back and forth between the two men.
Teresa's entire being was becoming an uncontrolled mass of throbbingly pulsating inner lust as she insanely and wildly undulated with completely wanton abandon. She was thoroughly and completely lost in the totality of the newly overpowering thrills as she madly rotated and spun her loins, happily skewering herself on the twin organs continually fucking so marvelously into her trembling body. She tightly squeezed and contracted the muscles in both her vaginal and rectal channels, giving the two men an equal quantity of pleasure and delight. A throbbingly wonderful volcanic sensation was mounting ever higher in her trembling body, and she felt an orgasm was going to overtake her. Emotionally, it would not begin to compare with the ones she had known with Martin Roth, but physically this was going to be the most powerful sensation she had ever known, because it was going to be a dual orgasm.
"Hhhhhhhhuuuuunnnnnhhhhh! Aaaannnnnn-hhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaauuuuuuggggg-hhhhhh!" she gasped and groaned as thrillingly numbing delight built to higher and higher plateaus in her shuddering body.
"My God!" Andrea whispered to herself. "I've never seen anything like that woman. Look at her go. She must be the most inwardly sensual female of all time. Even I wouldn't be able to keep up with her."
Teresa's shuddering body quivered and jerked and shook like a marionette suddenly without strings as she felt twin climaxes building and swelling inside her. They built higher and higher, and still higher, and then she was there, shouting, "AAAAIIIIYYYYAAAAGGGGHHHHHH ... AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHUUUUGGGGHHHH-HH... HHHHAAAANNNNGGGGHHHHHH... GGGGAAAANNNNNNHHHHHH!"
The two men continued fucking uncontrollably into Teresa's body without letup as she churned and jerked, and just when it appeared she was slowing down, finally recovering from the pressures of the two crises, a complete set of brand-new thrills began building inside of her, and Teresa realized that she wasn't finished. What had happened before was going to happen all over again.
Lying back on the bed, Al Strunk wasn't able to do a thing but simply stare at the way the woman was moving as her tightly clinging vaginal muscles sucked the slenderness of his pulsating penis. He stared as the second orgasm tore through the shuddering redheaded woman. Soon she was going insane with a shuddering series of orgasms, one breaking on top of the other.
Paul was enjoying himself as he hadn't in a very long time. No matter how much he enjoyed other women, he had always found his own wife superior to them. This was the first woman he had ever encountered who was superior to Andrea in sensual enjoyment. He was no fool and was well aware he would probably never see her again after today. Though he usually didn't make a practice of raping unwilling women, he was glad he had walked in when he had. In point of fact, it had taken him a little while to realize this particular woman was not a willing woman. By the time he had realized it, he just hadn't given a damn, and it was a good thing, too, because she was the sexiest, most arousing thing he had ever encountered. No matter which of her holes took a penis, she seemed capable of enjoying an orgasm.
Again and again the penises of the two raping men filled the tight genital orifices of Teresa's shuddering body. The sight was so arousing to Andrea, she decided she might as well get in on the fun. Going over to the bed, she climbed on with her loins hovering directly over Al Strunk's face. Teresa, seeing Andrea, leaned forward and engulfed a breast into her mouth as the blonde woman sat on Strunk's face, rubbing her wet cunt back and forth in his mouth, thrilling to his skinny little tongue lapping her clitoris. At the same time he maintained a rhythm with his thrusting cock, slamming it into
Teresa's vagina with all the power in him each time his tongue danced across Andrea's clitoris.
Theresa's mind was whirling and spinning very quickly, and she had no idea what to think. Her ears picked up the deep moans of low animal wails coming from Al Strunk's mouth as he continued slurping away at Andrea's heated cunt. Paul's throbbing cock in the depths of her rear tunnel felt so thrillingly delightful, she sensed the swelling penis starting to enlarge and expand as it tried reaching for her colon again and again. She also felt Al Strunk's throbbing little organ trying to swell and enlarge, and she knew the two men were all set to attain their satisfaction. From the way Andrea was shuddering back and forth on Al's face, it was obvious she wouldn't be too far behind the two men. In order to speed the woman up, Teresa bit her nipple, chewing it like a piece of hard candy. Her vaginal tract was squeezing all the more tightly around the throbbing little penis inside it, while she compressed her narrow anal channel around the other cock.
He was shouting it to the world, and then he began firing an ocean of oily white sperm into the tightly squeezing depths of Teresa's clutching rectum, and this triggered another orgasm in the maid's violently shuddering body. It was so strong, she sucked the nipple of Andrea Weena to the back of her throat, and this was all Andrea needed to set her off.
"EEEEEYYYYYIIIII! AAAAGGGG .. . HHHHHH .. . HHHHHHAAAAANNNNGGG-GGHHHH!" Andrea screamed, jerking as she began spurting her lubricating oils all over Al's face, letting the fluid soak into his mouth, his nostrils, and even his eyes. The aroma would cling to his eyebrows and mustache for days, afterward.
Now it was the little man's turn to reach his own peak. He began choking, his mouth still glued to Andrea's crack, and then he bellowed, "AAAAAA-GMMMMMRRRRRPv ... AAAHHHAAAUUU-MMMFFFAAAWWWAAA GGGHHHHHH-HHH!" He began firing piddling spurts of his thin liquid into the narrow depths of the trembling Teresa.
This was all she needed for her final orgasm, and she let Andrea's mammary fall from her mouth as she gasped, "AAAAAAAAIIIIEEEEYYYYAA-AAGGGGHHHHH!"
After that, she collapsed forward, totally out of energy. The two men pulled out of her and made her lie on the bed where Al Strunk wanted his shrunken penis to soak in her mouth for awhile. He even managed to fit his penis into her mouth, and Andrea was in the process of lapping Strunk's sperm from Teresa's vagina, when the door opened and Debbie Strunk walked. She had Martin Roth with her.
"See!" she said to Roth. 'The moment my husband told me about seeing you with the redheaded maid, I knew damn well he was going to do something with her. I don't mind his fooling around with someone like Andrea, because Andrea has a husband I can fool around with, but that woman has no one I can play with. Look at her. He's raped the hell out of her."
Martin Roth was stunned for a moment. In the short time he had come to know Teresa, he was aware she wasn't the kind to willingly surrender herself to men. It had been hard enough for him to make love to her, and he knew Teresa felt about him as he did about her.
"It's my husband's fault," Debbie was saying. "Beat the hell out of him. He's a real son of a bitch! Go on and beat the hell out of him!"
"With pleasure!" Roth nodded, and walking over to the two men, grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, and banged their heads together.
Martin helped Teresa dress, and when he finished and was ready to leave, Debbie grabbed his arm and said, "I don't know what the woman means to you, but remember, anytime you want a bang from me, it's on the house. I owe it to you for what Al did to her."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Martin said, and left with Teresa.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The convention was over. Everyone was packing to leave, including Teresa. The hotel told her they would call her again when they needed her services, and after they had paid her, she went to her room to get her small suitcase.
Martin Roth was there, waiting for her.
"I thought you had left," Teresa said.
She had carefully avoided him. for the last twenty-four hours, only seeing him when she waited on his table. After he had seen her nakedly displayed with those two men, she was certain he wanted nothing more to do with her. This was something she easily understood, since she had used infidelity as an excuse to separate herself from her husband.
"We have a lot to talk about, Teresa," he said to her.
"What is there to say?" she asked. "You walked in, you saw what happened. How can you want me after something like that?"
"Is love to be measured by sex alone?" he asked.
"That seems to be the way you measure it."
"That's the way it begins, but there is much more to love, and you know it."
"How can you love me after having seen me that way, disgraced?" she wanted to know.
"Stop talking foolishly," he insisted. "Do you think I would care even if you had done something like that willingly?"
"I would have cared if I had caught you that way."
"Because you have yet to learn the real meaning of love. Once you do, you'll understand what I'm saying."
"Are you trying to tell me that when people are in love it is all right for them to go sleeping around with anyone and everyone?" Teresa asked.
"If that were the case, I'd still be living with my wife. No, when people are in love, they want to be with one another most of the time. However, when an accident befalls one of them, such as that which happened to you, because I love you, I don't think any the less of you. Don't you understand that?"
"But they made me do such horrible, terrible things with my mouth and, well.. . using parts of my body I never thought anyone would touch."
"These are people who treat sex lightly, doing with one another what people really in love would do." .
'Martin," Teresa asked, "are you telling me you would expect me to use my mouth on your private parts?"
"Because I love you, I don't expect anything," he explained. "When two people love one another, they do what they want to do without hurting the other. At no time would I force you to use your mouth, nor would I make you give me your rear end. But by the same token I would not expect you to deny me the right to kiss your private areas."
"If I confess something, you'll think me very wanton," she said, hanging her head.
"Try me, and see," he insisted.
"I liked what I did with those terrible people," she said, letting her breath out.
"That only goes to prove you're human."
"Then you don't hate me for liking it?"
"I only hope you liked it enough to want to do things like that with me," he told her.
"But everything is over now," she said. "The convention is finished."
"Does that mean we have to be finished?"
"Martin, do you really want me?"
"Very much. I can't offer you marriage, but I can offer you a life very much like it, without the words said over us."
"I still have my children to care for," she told him. T simply cannot cut them off with no money any longer."
"You don't have to," he said to her. "I'll help, for a little while. But eventually they're going to have to stand on their own two feet."
'They're like their father. They see the women in my country supporting the men, and they're used to it."
"It's no excuse, Teresa. Your husband sponged off you for many years, from what you've told me. The time has come to stop your sons from taking after him."
"Still, I can't just abandon them."
"You won't," he assured her. "But you will offer them a chance to come to this country, where I can have them properly educated so that they'll be able to earn their own livings. If they turn that down, then they'll starve, because I won't let you send them money."
"You hardly know me, Martin. Why are you being so good to me?"
"I know you well enough to understand I want you to live with me. We'll move to a state where neither of us is known. As an architect I'm in demand all over. Even if we can't have words said over us, you'll be Mrs. Roth to the rest of the world for as long as you wish."
"That might be a very long time," Teresa told him.
"I hope it will be at least a single lifetime."
Teresa smiled and nodded, and for the first time in her life she became the aggressor. She fell to her knees in front of this man whom she adored, feeling a worshipful reverence toward him. Her hands clutched at the zipper of his blue trousers, pulling it down, and her other hand undid his belt, then pulled his pants down. Martin was taken completely by surprise and simply stood there. He watched, his eyes wide with lust and love as this woman whom he had met such a short time ago gripped his already solid phallus and began licking the tip of it all over. She did it with a verve and a gusto that matched the reluctance she had shown him at their initial meeting. Her mouth surrounded the hotly pulsing tip of his penis and she pushed it between her teeth, letting it ride on the surfboard of her tongue to her throat. Once there, she relaxed her throat and shoved her head forward, swallowing the heavy glans down her throat. It choked, stifled and gagged her, but she loved it and would not allow him to pull it out.
Her lips pulled on the solid shank, and her tongue tickled the bottom. To Teresa, he tasted heavenly. This was what a penis ought to feel and taste like. This was the thrilling sense she had almost felt when she had been forced to fellate Al Strunk. But now her mouth surrounded the organ of the man she adored, and her hand cupped his heavy dangling testicles. She sucked and slurped, licking the entire length of the heavy phallus, and then let it slide from her mouth so her tongue was able to dance lightly over the wrinkled sac containing his testicles.
When his hands rested lightly on her head, Teresa felt goose bumps rise all over her. He was responding, thrusting his hips forward, pressing gently on the back of her head, shuddering all the while. There was a strong twitching in the underside of his penis, and she sucked all the more heavily, breathing deeply, inhaling the musk of his groin and loving it.
This was the first time she had dared something like this on her own. She had to prove to herself how much she loved this man, and she was already seeing how much he adored her.
Her head bobbed back and forth, back and forth, and her lips pulled and sucked, slavering all over the throbbing organ, nibbling the heavy stalk of flesh as her fingers milked and squeezed his dangling sac, feeling it tighten around the balls which were swelling, inside.
One of her hands snaked between his thighs, behind his hanging testicles, and her fingers moved between the flat cheeks of his masculine ass. Her finger sought for, and finally found, the puckered little anal opening. She pushed with the tip of her finger, and it slid right in. Now she shoved her finger deeper, and began sawing it back and forth in time to the way her head was bobbing on the man's penis.
Teresa felt the stiffness clogging her throat become even stiffer, and then the heavy organ was swelling to even greater thickness. She thrust her head forward and back with greater speed, and when the continual pulsing in his ureter told her he was about to come, she held her breath, and when he screamed, "AAAAAAYYYAAAAIIIIGGGGG! HHHHQQQQ! RRRRGGGG! HHHHUUUGG-GHHH!" and fired blast after seminal blast down her throat, Teresa knew security for the first time in her life. At last, she had a man, a penis, and a sex life of her very own.
