Brenda Jones sat on the cottage's double bed and watched her husband of one week, Bob, pull the drapes over the sliding glass doors, shutting off the view of Cape Cod, the spit of sand, the Atlantic and the overcast sky, making the light in the room very dim. A week before, she would've thought the mood was very romantic. There they were, the two of them, all alone in a secluded beach front bungalow, just back from a swim in the ocean. She was wearing her tiny, black string bikini and he was in his form-fitting, Olympic speed-swimmer trunks. Due to the wetness of their suits and the skimpiness of their cut, they both might as well have been naked. The triangular cups of her bikini top barely covered the jutting firm mounds of her large breasts and the tiny vee of the bikini bottom was nothing more than a g-string between her round, trim thighs. The wetness of her suit caused the acetate fabric to cling to, to outline the hard points of her nipples, the plump horseshoe shape of her pussy mound and its deep central indentation. Bob's suit was-likewise revealing. It clung to him like a second skin, outlining the shape of his massive testicles and the visibly throbbing, swelling length of his big penis.
A week before, the scene would've been set for romance, but now she wasn't sure that there was any romance left in their relationship. There was sex, yes, lust, yes, but the other thing seemed to have gone by the wayside.
"I REALLY WANT TO FUCK YOU AGAIN, BABY," Bob said thickly, as he moved closer to the bed. He was a big man, muscular, a former state college football player, and though he was twenty-four now, there was still something exceedingly boyish about him, particularly his face. He had a kind of cherubic look, his cheeks were round, and his eyes were small, bright, always eager. He wasn't handsome in any classic sense, but was good looking in a healthy, farm-boy way. Adding to his youthful looks was his hair, which was blonde and very curly, like sheep's wool. It had earned him the nickname of "Curly" on the football team and he still used that name in business. Bob "Curly" Jones was a sales representative for a pharmaceutical company and a successful one. He'd learned that his college football career was often a stepping stone to a big sale, and by using the nickname, he could easily steer the conversation to the desired subject.
Brenda tried to smile at him, but it wasn't easy. When he talked to her like that, using coarse language, it made her mad. It was part of what was ruining the romance. For her, calling "making love" fucking was like taking something beautiful and rubbing it in the dirt. It made her think of seedy motels or the backseats of cars, or grinding loins and sweat, and animal noises.
"I SAID I WANT TO SCREW," he repeated.
"I heard you, Bob," she said, pushing a lock of her past shoulder length, silky straight brown hair from her face. She could see that he meant what he said, too. His penis was pulsing harder, pushing at the leg hole of his tight trunks, trying to poke out through it.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
Brenda caught herself frowning. She wanted to tell him "yes," that this marriage bit wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, that she'd hoped for something different, something more gentle, sensitive, more loving ... less lusting. It wasn't that she didn't like sex, because she did, very much. She hadn't had all that much experience at it before she'd met Bob. She'd led a fairly sheltered life, as sheltered as a pretty girl can be in a Los Angeles suburb. Her parents had kept a close rein on her and on the boys she dated until she was twenty-one, at which point she left home, moved into an apartment with two other girlfriends from high school, and started going to city college, majoring in office skills. Brenda got her certificate, all right, and as pretty as she was, with her big, soft brown eyes, her smooth, model's face, wide, generous mouth and exquisitely curvaceous body, she had no trouble landing a job. She was even more pleased when, through the job, she met Bob, who subsequently proposed to her, because she hated secretarial work and never wanted to do it again. In fact, she never wanted to work at any job again. Bob made a lot of money and she intended to be a good housewife.
"No, nothing's wrong," she said.
"You're not sore still?"
She shook her head. Their first couple of days together in the cottage had turned into marathon lovemaking sessions. The prolonged and repeated intercourse had made her so bruised and swollen that she could barely walk.
"WELL, THEN, STRIP DOWN, BABY, AND LET'S GET IT ON," he said, reaching for his trunks' waistband.
She reached behind her back for the tie to her bikini top, watching him as he peeled the tight suit down over his bulging loins. His body was muscular, but no longer really hard and in condition ... all but that enormous penis of his, that is.
When he jerked his trunks down, his big, ruddy cock flipped up like a tempered steel spring, snapping from horizontal to vertical, smacking hard against his bare, smooth chest, making the flesh quiver. The head of his penis, a great, swollen mushroom of dark red, pushed throbbingly against his breastbone, and in the middle of its deep, plum-like cleft, at the tiny slit, there was a single, milky drop of pre-cum which glistened lewdly in the soft light. The whole underside of his organ was facing her, the long, thick shaft laced with winding blue veins, flexing tendons, rigid sinews, and she could see how red it was in places, blotches of rosy color on the smooth pink skin. The red was from friction burn, from the almost non-stop intercourse of their first days as husband and wife. Under the crisp, coarse blonde hairs of his pubic bush hung the bloated ruddy bag of his scrotum. It was wrinkly, leathery and sparsely furred, but the hairs it did have were long and wildly curling. Under the thick skin, she could see his huge, kidney-shaped testicles slowly rotating, drawing up for the climax soon to come.
"Want some help?" he said, as he knelt on the bed beside her.
She frowned and shook her head. It was another example of how their relationship had changed. A few days before, he wouldn't have asked her like that, he wouldn't have asked her at all. He would've kissed and caressed her and undressed her himself, building her up slowly to the ultimate act. Now, he just wanted her clothes off as fast as possible and his big cock in her pussy.
She unfastened her bikini top and let it fall from her breasts. She didn't move for a moment, but just sat there, showing her luscious, snow white mounds to him, the pink nipples all crinkled up into tight, hard points. Her breasts, like his crotch, were pale compared to the rest of her, as the swim-suit had kept them hidden from the sun. She wanted him to do something nice, to reach out and touch her nipples, to rub them and the supple cones, to lick and kiss them until she couldn't stand it. Bob did something, all right, but it wasn't what she wanted at all.
The blonde man reached down and took hold of his upraised penis, wrapping his fist about the meaty shaft. The lust-swollen flesh was burning hot to the touch and he groaned softly as he began to pump his fist up and down, masturbating himself with obvious pleasure.
Brenda glared at him, but he didn't notice. He was too busy playing with himself and leering at her breasts. She told herself that she wasn't going to get angry, that it was their last day at the Cape, the last day of their honeymoon, and she didn't want to spoil it with a row. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that at least he was looking at her while he jacked off. It was not much comfort, however.
She lifted her long, slender legs and rolled the tiny bikini bottom down over her hips and thighs. When the small triangle of fabric cleared her pussy mound, when her husband could see the soft, fluffy brown hairs that topped it, she heard him give a little gasp of delight. That did please her. She rolled the bikini bottoms all the way down and kicked them off over her feet. No sooner than she'd gotten them off, than Bob put his big hand on her silky thigh.
"OPEN WIDER, BABY," he said hoarsely, "LET ME SEE."
She leaned back on her hands and spread her legs, lifting her knees up high, giving him a look at everything she had. As she did that, as she exposed her whole crotch to him, she got an unmistakable thrill between her legs, a thrill that shot up over her flat, smooth stomach, that licked at the tight peaks of her breasts.
"AAAHHH! IT'S SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!" he groaned, his hand moving faster, gripping his cock tighter, so that the big, rubbery head swelled out even more, so that it took on a more purplish color from all the trapped blood. "IT'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CUNT I'VE EVER SEEN!"
Brenda's face flushed with pride and pleasure. She liked being told that she was pretty, that any part of her was pretty. There was something deliciously wicked about showing her vagina off so boldly, even to her husband, and that he adored it so only made the naughtiness that much more sweet. She carelessly put her hand between her legs and ran her fingers over the soft brown fleece. The dense thatch of hair above her vagina feathered out as it teased down on either side of her pink-lipped slit, so that the very bottom of it was completely hairless. When she moved her fingers lower, down over the fine tuft of hairs that fringed her ragged labia, she could feel how damp they were, and the heat coming off her pussy lips was a tangible thing. There was no doubt about it, she was getting excited.
She looked over at his monumental erection, at his fist pumping savagely up and down it, and her heart began to pound. It was at moments like these that the minor irritation brought on by the newness of living together day and night, by the inevitable destruction of fantasies about married life, about each other, seemed inconsequential. It was at moments like these that Brenda knew why she had picked Bob, why she would stay with him. There was something chemical between them, something so basic that it defied rational explanation. Though she would have much rather been wooed into submission, she could not deny to herself that every time she saw his penis like that, bulging and thick with lust-heated blood, every vein sticking out from the shaft, the huge rubbery head horribly swollen, all of that for her, because of her, it never failed to move her. She wanted him again, wanted him as much as he wanted her.
As she pressed her fingers against the soft, warm lips of her vagina, she could feel the slippery moisture already oozing from between them, the hot seepage of her cunt already flowing to lubricate the way for that monstrous erection; she could feel the ravenous hunger in her belly and loins. She wanted to make love again, to be screwed long and slow, fast and hard, to be made to orgasm again and again around that huge pistoning cock of his.
When she looked up from the purplish bulb, up to his face, she moaned softly. His cheeks were horribly flushed and he was staring so intently at her pussy, at her stroking fingers as he masturbated, that it frightened her. The lust in his eyes was almost mindless, pure animal hunger.
"On your BACK," he said abruptly, his fist milking a steady dribble of thick white fluid up from the hair-fringed bag of his scrotum.
Brenda jerked as if he'd struck her, jerked both from the coldness of his words and from the sight of all that pre-cum oozing from his aroused cockhead. He was already so excited! How in the world was he going to hold out once he got inside of her?!
Bob didn't give her a chance to ponder the question. When she didn't obey him immediately, he rolled over on top of her, his heavy weight forcing her to drop flat on her back on the bed, his hips sliding between her splayed thighs, holding her legs wide apart.
"JUST A SECOND! WAIT!" she moaned, flinching at the feel of his hard testicles as they dug into the softness of her round buttocks, at the feel of his iron hard penis as the underside rubbed incitefully against the pliant pink petals of her throbbing cunt. "BOB, PLEASE!"
Bob, his face beet red, his breathing coming fast and hard, his cock standing up like a red hot pole between them, was in no mood for waiting. His cock was so hard, so bloated with blood, that it felt like it was about to split its outer skin, and the whole thing ached horribly from root to tip, ached from all the previous orgasms. He knew that there was only one way to soothe that burning, that aching, and that was to slide his thick cock between the hot, slippery lips of her cunt, to bury it in the tight sheath, to let it lie throbbing between the layers of wet and willing flesh. There would be no passionate tongue kissing, no tender squeezing of breasts, no prolonged fingering of clitoris and pussy. Bob could tell that his wife was already hot enough for it. He could tell by the sweet, musky fumes coming off her loins, by the sticky wet feel of her pussy lips against the underside of his cock.
"BOB!! " she bawled, as he wedged his thighs wider apart, and in so doing spread her crotch even wider, too, as he squirmed against her upturned fork, grinding his long, hot penis into her tender wet cunt.
Bob groaned in ecstasy, screwing his hips forward and back, sliding his aching penis against the soothingly hot and wet lips of her vagina, feeling the damp, soft hairs tickling at the bloated, oozing head of his cock.
She shuddered as she felt the hard, hairy orbs of his balls mashing against the mouth of her pussy, mashing so hard that for a second she was afraid he was going to try to push them up inside her. She looked at her husband's face, at the glazed expression of his eyes, at the hard, cruel set of his mouth, and a chill passed over her heart. It was all happening again; it was all falling apart right before her eyes. Somehow, someway, everything was getting screwed up. It was like Bob wasn't really making love to her, like he was acting out some crazy fantasy in his head, that she was nothing more than a warm, supple mannequin that moved.
"HERE, IT COMES, BABY," he choked, his hot breath rushing over her face, neck, breasts, his hand jamming down between their bellies to grip the thick neck of his cock, to bend the bloated head down, to wedge it against the sensitive, hair-rimmed petals of her pussy.
Brenda groaned as she felt the blazing hot knob nose between her labia and her belly went to jelly. She was suddenly .consumed by a hunger of her own, a hunger that blocked out everything else. She slipped her hands up to grip his tensed biceps and waited, trembling all over, for the sweeping rush, the deep spearing thrust.
He grunted and snapped his hips, throwing his full weight behind the lunge.
"YEEEEEE!" she shrieked, her eyes widening, her back arching. The massive, semen-lubricated head of his cock surged between her labia, crushing through the moist opening of her cunt, scouring over the hard button of her clitoris, plunging right up into her narrow channel. As wet as she was, the pain was terrible. It felt like the girth of his penis was going to split her wide open, from cunt to belly button. She twisted and turned her hips, whimpering.
Bob was too excited by the feel of her hot pussy securely fastened around the upper third of his cock to realize she was in awful pain. All he could think of was getting all the way in. To that end, he jerked his hips back an inch or so, dragging his bulging cockhead through the slick drapery of her cunt, further moistening it in the viscous seepage of her genitals, then hurling himself forward, groaning with animalish delight as his rigid staff sank deeper, as the deliciously snug sheath slipped halfway down over his cock.
"NOT SO HARD!" she wailed, writhing under the brutal lunge. "BOB, PLEASE, TAKE IT EASY!"
Bob couldn't hear her. He couldn't see her, either, as his eyes were shut tight. He took advantage of her wild squirming to wedge the rest of his thick rod into her vagina. Her pathetic squirming and the resulting tightening of her stomach and cuntal muscles only made his brutal entry more pleasurable.
Crushed under his weight, the monstrous girth of his steely cockroot distending the very mouth of her vagina, the luridly swollen bag of his balls nuzzling lewdly against her tiny anus, Brenda stopped fighting and lay there, gasping, whimpering softly as the great cock throbbed out against the walls of her cunt, stretching it even further, threatening to split it wide open.
Bob buried his face in the soft, sweetly scented hollow of her neck and let out a low grunt of satisfaction. Then, groaning from the exquisite friction, the soothing caress of her buttery inner ridges and folds, he started to fuck her, dragging his big, gleaming penis back from the depths of her scalding hot womb, then lunging forward, skewering it back inside. He worked in a torrid frenzy, his powerful ass-cheeks bobbing up and down between her widely splayed thighs, the long, brutal rod of his lust-hardened cock plowing between her slippery wet cuntal lips, slithering deep into her soft belly. He puffed and panted into her neck, taking hold of her firm, smooth buttocks, pulling her loins, her juicy cunt, toward him as he thrust, forcing her to fuck him back.
Gradually, the spearing thrusts, the surging length of his thick, smooth penis stretched out the walls of her pussy, coaxing a heavy flow of warm, slick fluid from her loins, fluid that made the sliding in and out deliciously easy. As the lubricating juice oozed from her distended slit, the pain began to fade, replaced by a sensation of devastating pleasure. His cock moved faster and faster, darting through the tight, muscular grip of her cunt, its upper surface rubbing incitefully over the tiny, nerve-filled bud of her clitoris, making sparks of joy shoot over her upturned mound. Everything was suddenly so marvelously wet and slippery, her juices gushing out around the hot hard shaft as it thrust in, oozing around it as it pulled out, and there was no more pain, nothing but delight.
"YESSSSS," she moaned ecstatically, throwing her arms against his broad back, twisting her buttocks rhythmically against the grip of his powerful fingers, twisting, rolling her pussy down over his cock as it plunged into her, lifting her knees up and clamping them hard against his sides.
Bob groaned excitedly as he felt her cunt tip up even further, as he felt her legs tighten against him. She was offering herself to him, offering him the full length of her vagina to fuck. He thrust harder, grunting from the effort, making the bedsprings squeal and squeak, rolling his hips, rolling his lurid erection over the wetly sheathing walls of her contracting pussy, feeling the bump, the tug of her inner folds, and wrinkles as his massive cockhead surged in and out.
Whimpering piteously, like a little lost child, the lovely brunette clung to her new husband with all her strength. She slid her long legs up over the small of his back and locked her ankles over his bobbing buttocks, greedily taking each and every deeply skewering thrust of his blood-heated cock, pulling with her legs as he lunged, pulling him into her even harder, her pussy quivering, clutching, convulsing about the pistoning rod. The friction heat was building up in the walls of her cunt and everything was coming unglued, her juices were smearing everywhere, over her buttocks, over his hard testicles, and she could feel herself starting to build up to climax, the delicious shivers of ecstasy shooting over her cunt, rippling up her spine like bursts of electrical current.
Bob was pumping on her for all he was worth, every inch of his body straining, driving, misted with a fine sheen of sweat. He could smell her pussy, smell it as he lunged, as a rush of air wafted up between their jerking bodies. That odor, so sweetly pungent, so musky, only aroused him more, and made him more eager to jet his thick rich semen into her seething loins. He snapped his hips in a blur, sending the great, glistening ramrod of his lust-bloated penis plundering into her quivering pussy.
"YESSSSS! YES!" she cried, her legs scissoring wantonly over his back, sliding incitefully over his sides, then crushing tight about his waist as the first flicker of orgasm licked over her cunt. She could feel her whole vagina starting to tremble, to shiver with contractions, again and again and again, the delectable ripple of feeling as her pussy convulsed from the entrance inward, milking the long cock, milking it into her ravenous depths. She went with the convulsions, squeezing her stomach muscles in time with the contractions, and was rewarded at once as Bob gasped with pleasure and double-timed his deeply skewering thrusts. A powerful jolt of current surged up her backbone and she went wild, pounding her bare heels against his buttocks, licking and kissing frantically at the side of his flushed, feverish face.
"OOOOHHHH!" Bob groaned, hurling himself into her so hard that he actually scooted her body across the mattress, his fingers digging deeply into the resilient cheeks of her ass. Every muscle in his body tensed, quivering, he held her nailed to the bed, stuck on his hard-throbbing cock like a bug on a pin.
Brenda's eyes opened wide as she felt the huge penis jerk against the flexing grip of her vagina. "NO!" she gasped. "NO, BOB! BOB, JUST A LITTLE MORE! PLEASE, A LITTLE MORE!! "
The blonde man squirmed against her, his face twisted from the effort, his lips curled back from his teeth. It was too late. Bob could not stop what was happening. He was over the brink. He let out a groan and started fucking her as fast and as hard as he could, his testicles pumping madly, orgasm enveloping him.
She shuddered violently as she felt the first molten spray of cum shoot into her pussy. Too soon!! It was like she'd been riding in a big balloon, rising up higher and higher into the clouds, the fleecy pink clouds, and then, without warning, the balloon had been burst and she was tumbling back to earth. That she'd gotten so excited, that she was so close to climax herself, only made the situation worse. He was pounding her unmercifully, his face twisted with animal ecstasy, actually knocking the breath from her lungs as he jetted his boiling cum into her belly by the tablespoonful.
"OH, BABY! BABY!" he wheezed into her neck, every inch of his penis pulsing, bucking within her quaking cunt.
Brenda lay there and took it, lay there until his wild humping slowed to a halt, until his hot semen filled her pussy to overflowing, her own pleasure rapidly fading, turning into a cold, seething anger.
"Are you finished?" she said. The tone of her voice was so icy that it made the big man start. He pushed up from her belly on his hands and blinked at her for a long moment before saying anything. "Is something wrong, baby?" he asked.
"Do you really have to ask?" she snapped, twisting, turning, trying to get free of the weight of his loins, of the skewering length of his deeply embedded, still-throbbing cock.
"Wait a minute! Brenda, please!" he said, grabbing her by the wrists and pinning her arms at her sides. "Tell me what's the matter?"
She turned her face to the side, averting her eyes from his. She felt horrible. Not only was she let down by his premature orgasm, but she felt incredibly stupid, childish for making a scene over it ... nonetheless, she could not keep from speaking, from trying to get back at him. "Nothing's the matter," she said, flatly. "Everything's perfectly wonderful."
As she said that, her pussy muscles tigthened teasingly about his rigid penis, milking at it. Bob's eyes widened, then a wide grin spread across his face. He suddenly knew what the problem was. She wanted more fucking. His hot little wife wanted more! Even as he grinned down at her, as he started to move his hips, to pull his big, long cock back, then shove it into the scalding heat of her liquid loins, her eyelids fluttered shut and she cooed rapturously up at him.
"DARLING! OH, DARLING!" she moaned, her legs locking tight around his back.
He began to work up speed, screwing his cock in and out of her semen-lubricated pussy faster and faster, and as he did, she started to whimper and squirm excitedly under him, snapping her hips up from the bed, making her wet cunt greedily sheath every inch of his huge cock.
Brenda had already built herself up to one pleasure plateau and it didn't take much more fucking to put her head back up in the clouds. Waves of delight danced in her jerking crotch as the long cock slogged in and out, as its powerful pistoning action forced the sperm that already filled her belly to come burbling out, oozing down over her butt-cheeks, smearing incitefully over her anus and his pendulous scrotum. She humped passionately, with total abandon, her bottom thrusting so hard that the impact of her wet loins against his made the supple cones of her firm breasts jiggle like Jello on a plate.
Even as the friction heat began to build up in the shaft of his cock, even as he felt Brenda's tight pussy begin to tug harder, insistently at the hard-driving length of his cock, Bob knew that it was all going to be for nothing. Every time his stiff penis throbbed in response to her cuntal spasms, the ache in his balls was excruciating. He had a case of the "lover's nuts," and then some. The hurt was so bad that it unmanned him. He could feel his cock starting to lose its bone, starting to buckle in the middle, to go all softy and rubbery.
"OH!! " she gasped as a particularly powerful convulsion of her pussy, coupled with a hard upward thrust, caused his limp cock to slip out, then slide wetly against her thigh.
"BABY," Bob groaned, shaking his head. "BABY, I..."
But Brenda was already fumbling down in under her slippery buttocks, grabbing hold of the thick but flaccid shaft of his penis. She pushed the rubbery head between her widely splayed labia and tried to stuff the shaft back inside her. Under the pressure of her hand, the spineless cock buckled and the tip refused to slide in. Whimpering anxiously, she pushed even harder, but the waggly-tipped rod refused to go back up her.
"Baby, I'm sorry," Bob said, as she dropped his cock, shoving it away from her as if it were something highly disgusting. "Really, I am. I guess we've done it too much. It hurts so bad that I can't keep it up."
She glared at him, thinking bitterly about the fact that he hadn't bothered to consider how sore she was earlier, as if her feelings didn't matter.
"Maybe if we rested a few minutes," he suggested.
"Get up," she said, "You're squashing me!"
"What?! Oh, oh, I'm sorry, baby," he said, meekly, rolling off her semen-soaked loins and onto his side on the bed. He let his eyes travel over her silky curves, down to the cum-drenched plane of her pussy, to the tiny drops of milky fluid clinging to her soft brown pubic hairs. The sight of her naked cunt dripping with his own sperm sent a thrill shooting up his spine, which in turn made his penis throb excitedly, which in turn made his testicles ache something awful. He winced and shut his eyes, the color draining from his face.
Brenda knew that it was all over for the day, that Bob was utterly spent, fucked out, and it made her madder to think that she would have to bear the tension of unsated desire for the whole day. She jumped up from the bed and started for the bathroom, the warm seepage of his cum dribbling from the mouth of her pussy, oozing down the insides of her thighs.
"Brenda, baby," Bob called to her back, "we could try again in a half hour."
She glanced back at him. He was kidding himself, maybe, but he wasn't kidding her. Suddenly, he looked much smaller to her, much weaker, much more vulnerable.
"No thanks," she said. Then she marched into the bathroom and shut the door.
The honeymoon was over in more ways than one.
CHAPTER TWO
"You've got to be kidding!" Bob Jones said to the supper clean but young man in the red blazer on the other side of the airline ticket counter.
"I'm sorry, sir," the ticket agent said, giving both Bob and Brenda a tired smile, "but the baggage handlers' strike has shut down our operations completely. There are no planes taking off from this airport."
"What the hell do you propose to do about this, then?! " Bob said angrily, waving the return round trip tickets he'd purchased in Los Angeles in the fellow's face. "These seats are already bought and paid for. I've got to be in L.A. by tomorrow. I've got important business. How are you going to get us there?! "
The agent took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. Obviously, he had been through this same routine a hundred times that evening.
"The only way out of Boston in the foreseeable future is by train or bus, sir," he said.
"Train?! Bus?! ! You've got to be joking!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but all the airlines on the East Coast have been affected by the strike. It's either the train or the bus, I'm afraid. The airline will pay for your ticket, of course, and refund you the difference in the fares. We've already taken the liberty of arranging for a sleeping compartment to be reserved for you and your wife on the train departing in half an hour. We also have a bus waiting out front to take you and your luggage directly to the station."
"And just how long is this train trip going to take?" Bob snarled. "Five or six days?! "
The agent gave Brenda a pained look. "No, sir, you'll be home in three days," he said. "The train is an express."
"Three goddamn days! Do you have any idea what that's going to cost me?! " Bob said.
The agent looked helpless.
Brenda couldn't stand listening to her husband's carping anymore. It was plain to her, just as it was plain to the ticket agent, that Bob was just using the flight cancellation as an excuse to vent some pent-up anger at someone ... anger that should have been directed at her. She could well understand his irritation because she felt similarly uptight, abraded. It was the inevitable result of two strong personalities being brought into sudden, prolonged contact. She could also understand why he'd need an outlet for his temper. As a college football player, he got to unload everything, all his frustrations and inner tension on the field, in brutal physical contact, but now his outlets were few and far between. Even though she could understand what he was doing and why, she could not condone it. It was childish and demeaning.
"Bob?" she said, putting her hand on his arm. "Why don't we get on the bus. We don't want to miss that train."
He looked at her and, for an instant, his fury was directed at its intended target, then he caught himself. "Yeah, yeah, all right," he said, picking up the bags, "but I'm going to see my attorney when I get back to Los Angeles. You can bet on that!"
"Have a nice trip," the agent said.
Bob and Brenda walked out to the front of the terminal, where a redcap directed them to the bus the airline had chartered. Bob turned their baggage over to the gray-uniformed driver, then the two of them climbed up the bus' front steps. The bus was quite crowded, packed with many other highly irritated people. Bob and Brenda had to go all the way to the rear to find a seat. They sat down on the wide bench seat at the back next to a middle-aged couple.
The man, a silver-haired, highly distinguished looking fellow, immediately turned to Brenda and smiled. "It's going to hell in a handcart," he said.
"WhatExcuse me?" she said.
"The world," the man said, his steely gray eyes taking in her pretty face appreciatively. He broke off from his staring quite abruptly and shoved his hand out to Bob across Brenda's chest. "My name's Art Harris," he said.
Bob accepted the handshake and introduced himself and Brenda.
"This is my wife, Gwen," Harris said, indicating the exceedingly prim looking woman beside him.
"How do you do," Mrs. Harris said, stiffly. She seemed very preoccupied with the uncomfortable situation. She was a lovely woman, though. Her face was smooth and unlined, elegantly beautiful with a strong arched nose, a wide-lipped mouth and haunting violet eyes. Her hair was dyed silver-white and intricately coiffed. She wore a simple, tasteful pinstriped suit and a white blouse with a ruffled collar with a narrow, black string tie.
"Glad to meet you," Brenda said, peering around Mr. Harris at the older woman.
"If I didn't have most of my money wrapped up in gold certificates," Harris said, "I'd be worried as heck about how things are going in this country."
"Gold certificates?" Brenda said, as the bus inched forward, moving out into traffic. "I'm a stock broker," Harris said. "I make my living telling other people how to invest. Believe me, gold is just about the only sure thing there is."
"What about property?" Bob said. Harris looked up from Brenda and over at her husband. "Property is fine," he said, authoritatively, "but it's not easily convertible into goods and services ... and access to goods and services is the name of the game in a depression."
Brenda instantly liked Mr. Harris. There was something about the twinkle in his eyes, something merry and mischievous that intrigued her. He was quite handsome, too, a gentleman, a man of the world. He seemed much mellower than Bob, aged like fine wine.
"But you don't actually possess the gold, do you?" she asked. "I mean, all you have is the piece of paper, right?"
Harris gave her a big grin. "You know something about it then?" he said, obviously pleased. "You're right that all I have is the paper, but the paper entitles me to collect my gold, which is on reserve in an approved federal depository. Even if all the banks in the country collapsed, I could still get at my gold."
"You don't really think the banks are going to fold, do you?" Bob said.
"Arthur, really!" Mrs. Harris said. "Must you always talk shop? It's so depressing. I'm sure Bob and Brenda would rather talk about something more cheerful."
Mr. Harris gave his wife a sour look. Even though she'd spoken the words in a light, carefree tone, it was plain that the subject had come up many times before and that it was a sore point between them.
"like what, for instance?" he said nastily.
The obvious antagonism between the older man and his wife was very embarrassing to Brenda. It was the kind of public display of ill feeling that made her skin crawl. She felt bound and determined to break the sudden, chilling silence.
"Plays," she said. "What about plays. Did you see any while you were here?"
Mr. Harris smiled, clearly relieved when his wife immediately took up the invitation and began discussing the shows they'd been to in New York.
Brenda tried to listen to what Gwen was saying, but it wasn't easy. She did prattle on at a fast clip, more interested in the sound of her own voice than in what she was saying. The young woman found her attention kept turning back to Art. Every time she looked at him, she caught him looking at her. It was very flattering, though a little disturbing. She felt a kind of rapport with the man. It was a good-natured, sympathetic feeling. The twinkle in his eyes as he half-listened to his wife talk said that he had a sense of humor about his life, his wife, his marital difficulties. He was sharing that humor with Brenda, very discreetly, of course.
Bob joined in on the discussion of the new Broadway plays. His job brought him to the East Coast often enough so that he was fairly up-to-date on the productions and the stars. He and Mrs. Harris seemed to hit it off quite well; they both had similar taste in musical comedy.
After about a thirty minute ride, the bus pulled up in front of the train station. As the passengers disembarked, they were met by an employee of the airlines, who handed them their train tickets and checked their names off the flight's passenger list.
Bob and Brenda and Art and Gwen walked through the station together, followed by a redcap, who had all their luggage stacked up on a metal cart. It amused Brenda that Bob had sprung for the baggage. Generally speaking, he was very tight about money in such a situation, but in this case he wanted to impress the Harris' more than he wanted to save a couple of bucks.
They followed a tile-lined, dome-ceilinged tunnel down to the loading platform. The train was there, waiting. It was a very modern looking thing, all gleaming steel, low and sleek ... not exactly what Brenda had expected. The loading platform was what she'd expected, though ... grimy, ancient, well worn.
The two couples climbed up into the nearest open door, then set about finding a conductor who could locate their compartments. They found the conductor in the third car up, supervising the loading of bed linen and towels. He was a big, burly man in his late forties. His uniform was navy blue with gold buttons and he wore a blue conductor's hat with a black plastic visor.
"Can I be of service?" he said, when Mr. Harris stepped up to him.
Harris and Bob showed the man their tickets. He glanced at them and nodded, turning to look at Mrs. Harris and Brenda. Quickly, furtively, he gave both women the once-over.
Brenda was a bit startled by the man's boldness. He was sizing her up right in front of her husband! Not that Bob noticed. He was too busy telling Harris about football. The conductor was not an especially handsome man. His skin was sallow, his cheeks had pock marks in them, and his nose was a bit big and round at the tip, and, in a way, that made the once-over more disturbing. For a fleeting instant, it felt like she was being undressed, like he was looking at every secret part of her body. She looked over at Mrs. Harris for some kind of reaction, but the older woman was smiling at the conductor.
"This way, please," the conductor said, turning and walking through the tourist class car.
The two couples followed him through the dining car, the observation car, and then into a pullman car, where he stopped. The corridors were quite narrow. On the left were windows and on the right the doors to the individual sleeping compartments were located.
"Mr. and Mrs. Jones," the conductor said, "you are in Number 34 and Mr. and Mrs. Harris are in 35." He opened the doors for them, then added. "If you require anything, you will find buttons for room service, for maid and porter, and for me on the inside wall. I will be by in about fifteen minutes to check your tickets."
Mr. Harris reached in his pants pocket and drew out a bill, shoving it into the conductor's hand. Bob winced and grudgingly did the same.
"Perhaps you'd like to join us for cocktails after you freshen up a bit?" Mrs. Harris said.
"That would be great," Bob said. "Why don't we meet in the observation car in fifteen minutes?"
Brenda was not nearly as enthused about the cocktails as Bob, but she managed to smile at the woman politely. Then she and Bob entered the compartment and he closed the door behind them.
"It's like a goddam closet," Bob said, regarding the small room with disgust.
It was, indeed, cramped, no more than ten by ten. The far wall was taken up by a long plate glass window and flanking it, sticking out at right angles to it, were two bench seats. The seats were upholstered in a plush red velvet and looked fairly comfortable. Above the right hand seat was a small, brass luggage rack, and above the left was a closed compartment, which made up into the upper berth.
Brenda agreed with him, but she said nothing, not wanting to encourage his anger. She removed her coat, hung it up on the hook by the door, then sat down by the window and looked out across the rows of tracks to the next train over. She felt totally drained. Coping with Bob at the bungalow, coping with Bob at the airport, coping with Bob on the bus had exhausted her.
"You're not just going to sit there, are you?" he said.
Brenda looked up at him. "Why?" she said.
He made a face. "Because we're supposed to be getting ready for cocktails," he said exasperatedly.
She stared out the window. The last thing in the world she wanted at that point was cocktails with Mr. and Mrs. Harris. She knew from experience at the Cape Cod resort how that would work out. While Bob monopolized Art, boring him with the tedious details of his famous goal line stand of 1976, she would be stuck with Gwen. Though the woman seemed pleasant enough in a vaguely snobbish way, there was something about her that put Brenda off. It wasn't the mannish suit or her "airs" of refinement; it was nothing that Brenda could really put her finger on.
"Aren't you even going to fix your makeup?" he said.
She stifled the urge to give him a sarcastic answer. "I'm not going, Bob," she said, flatly. "I'm exhausted from all the hassles we went through today. All I want to do is to get into bed and sleep until tomorrow morning."
"Damned, Brenda!" he said. "Those people have gone out of their way to be nice to us. I think we owe it to them to accept their invitation."
"You go, Bob," she said. "Tell them that I was too tired, that I'll see them tomorrow. It'll be fine. They'll understand that I'm not scrubbing them."
"No, they won't," he said. "It's a phony excuse. It sounds phony even to me."
"Who cares?"
"I do," he said, glaring at her. "I think the Harris' are people worth knowing."
"Are you going to sell them some pills?" she said.
Bob stiffened. "No," he said, "no mother fucking pills, Brenda. I think I could get some sound financial advice from Art. I think I could get it free of charge. Do you know what one of those brokers gets for counseling. It's an arm and a leg, I can tell you. This could be real good for both of us, baby. Art could let us in on something big."
"Bob," she said firmly, "I'm not moving from this seat. Make my apologies to the Harris'. "
"Shit!" he said, his face reddening, his big meaty hands opening and closing at his sides.
For the first time, Brenda felt afraid of Bob. A cold chill rippled up her spine and she shivered. He was big enough, strong enough to kill her easily with his bare hands. Instead of attacking her, though, he turned and stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door shut after him.
Brenda realized that she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly, then breathed in. It wasn't working out between them and she couldn't kid herself that it was. When she married Bob, she thought she was getting a big, protective, confident man, the kind of guy a girl could rely on in all ways, but the truth was, Bob only looked the part. Inside, he was childish, immature, nothing more than an overgrown baby. Instead of being nurtured, protected by her husband, she could see that she was the one who was going to have to be his keeper, his mother figure. It was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow.
If she hadn't been so tired, she probably would've broken down and cried, but as it was, she was too exhausted, too empty inside. She pressed the call button for the maid and pulled down the blind over the long window.
In about two minutes, there was an answering knock on her door. She opened it and smiled at the small, Latin-looking woman dressed in a white maid's outfit.
"Come in, please," Brenda said. "I'd like for you to make up the berths."
"Yes, ma'am," said the young woman, immediately setting out to do just that. The white outfit was very becoming to her, as it emphasized her smooth mocha-colored skin and the coal blackness of her hair and eyes.
Brenda watched the girl work, marveling at her efficiency. She also marveled that such a good-looking young woman would take such a menial job. The maid had a very attractive face, with wide, high cheekbones, huge dark eyes and a full, soft mouth. Brenda finally couldn't stand the not-knowing and she blurted out the question that was gnawing at her.
"Excuse me, miss," she said, "but could you tell me something personal?"
The maid straightened up, cocking her head as she said, "Yes?"
"It just struck me as strange that such a lovely girl as you would be working as a maid on a train?" Brenda said. "Isn't there anything else you could do?"
The maid beamed at her, then blushed. "I am new to this country," she said in halting English. "I no speak so good. I am learn, though."
"Oh, I see," Brenda said, nodding. "I hope you stick at the studying. A girl with a face and personality like you have could work anywhere almost. You could be an executive secretary, a receptionist, anything."
"Thank you, ma'am," she said, smiling, showing Brenda her dimples. "Will there be anything else?"
Brenda shook her head. "No, thank you," she said, fumbling in her purse for a tip.
The maid accepted the change gratefully, then made her exit. Brenda watched the girl's legs as the door closed. The maid had remarkably long slender legs, the kind of legs that advertise panty hose, the kind of legs that turn men's heads.
Brenda looked down at the made-up berth. It was crisp and clean, and all she wanted was to slip off to sleep. She undressed quickly, stripping down to her brassiere and hot pink bikini panties, then climbed into bed. The sheets were soft and cool and she let herself relax completely. It was only after a heavy drowsiness had begun to slip over her that she remembered she'd left the room light on. By that time, she was too sleepy to get up to turn it off. Anyway, she figured that Bob would need the light to see his berth when he returned from the cocktail party. She shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
She didn't dream right away, but just sort of floated, light as air, comfortable and safe under the covers. She remained like that for several minutes, in a kind of limbo state. Then she heard a knock at the compartment door.
For the longest time, she couldn't be sure that the knock was real, that she wasn't, in fact, dreaming it. She wanted to speak up, to say something and that way find out for sure, but her body was no longer light; it was incredibly heavy and she could not move a muscle, could not even open her mouth.
The knock came again and then she heard the sound of a key sliding into the lock. At the metallic click of the bolt turning back, she tensed. It had to be Bob, she told herself, Bob coming back to get something he forgot. She lay there on her side, facing the door, and tried to open her eyelids just enough to peek out. Opening them at all was a difficult task ... they felt like they weighed a ton ... and it took her longer than she'd anticipated. By the time she could see, the compartment door had opened, then closed; by the time she could see, the burly conductor was standing in the compartment with her, towering over her in his spotless blue uniform.
Her first instinct was to sit bolt upright in bed, to demand what he was doing there, but she could not make her body obey her. It wasn't just the drowsiness in her limbs, either. Brenda was afraid.
The conductor took off his hat and wiped his heavy brow with the back of his hand. His hair was black, thinning a bit on top, and his forehead was damp with perspiration. His small, dark eyes roamed over her supine body, over the lush, rounded curves her breasts and hips made under the covers.
Brenda was suddenly aware of something, something annoying, irritating. For the longest time, she couldn't put her finger on what it was, and then it hit her: his breathing! He was looking at her, leering at her, and his breathing was getting heavier and heavier, rasping in his chest. She cringed at the thought that he was getting turned on.
The conductor put his hat back on and moved closer to her, practically tiptoeing.
Brenda knew that she had to get up, that she had to stop him before something terrible happened, but she could not move. Where was Bob?! she thought, wildly. Where was her big, strong, protective husband when she really needed him?! !
The hoarse breathing grew louder and louder, and then something touched her long, brown hair. She could see his stubby fingers, the coarse black hairs that covered the back of his hand as he tenderly caressed her hair. The sensation was horrible, intimate, all the more shocking because it was so gentle, so feather light, like butterflies flitting over her.
He stroked her hair for a moment, then pulled back, panting hard. He turned away from her quickly and walked to the door, locking it.
Brenda's pulse rate soared. She was terrified and at the same time furious with herself for not waking up, for not reacting sooner. Now, she realized, he had committed himself by locking the door. Now it was too late!
The conductor moved back beside her, putting his fingers to the edge of the covers, taking hold of them firmly, then slowly pulling them down.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the horror, but that didn't stop the man from pulling the covers down to her waist, from exposing her whole upper torso from the sheer, peach-colored tricot nylon cups of her brassiere, which clung like a second skin to her jutting breasts, to the silky flatness of her tanned belly. The brassiere concealed nothing. Her breasts might as well have been completely naked. Her nipples were clearly visible in the centers of the snow white mounds, pink and round and soft with sleep.
She heard his sudden, harsh intake of breath as he leered down at her succulent young breasts, and something began to dawn on her, something truly staggering. The conductor couldn't be expecting her to sleep on serenely while he assaulted her, so it was plain that either he already knew that she was awake and had taken her silence, her pretending to sleep as consent, or else none of that mattered to him because he figured to make love to her come hell or high water and face the consequences later. Either of the two possibilities were devastating to her ... the first implied that she was nothing more than a slut, that he had read her lustfulness at a glance; the second implied that he was so stimulated by her, so excited, that he was willing to do anything, to risk anything to possess her.
Brenda was anything but a slut, but nonetheless, the sheer perversity of that idea gave her an unmistakable thrill, a thoroughly wicked tingle between her legs. She stifled the pleasurable sensation, retreating into panic, fear, into mental cries for her husband to come and save her.
The conductor's hand dropped down over her left breast, covering it entirely, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. Then the thumb and forefinger sought out her soft, pink nipple, catching it, pinching it, rolling and twisting at it through the slithery fabric until it tautened, until it stood up, all pointy and hard from her sleek breast.
Brenda was stunned by the way her body was responding to the stranger's unwanted touch. He was treating her roughly, tugging at her hot nipple, using it to pull the supple mound of her breast up from her chest, up into a steep-sided cone. Though the brutal caress hurt, though it humiliated her, it also sent another twinge of pleasure shooting down over her stomach, down between her thighs and caused a delicious surge of warmth to spread over her pussy. That wave of pleasure stung her much worse than the animalish fondling. It told her that she was starting to get aroused, to get aroused against her will like a mongrel bitch in heat. She didn't want to make love to the conductor! She loved her husband, loved Bob! She tried frantically to raise her arms, to kick out with her feet, to do something to stop him, but her arms and legs were too heavy to move. She lay there, paralyzed, her eyes tightly closed, her breathing shallow and weak, while he toyed with her breasts.
Then the stubby fingers left her stiff nipple and teased down over her silky belly, sending a tickling ripple of feeling coursing through her. Her entire body jerked as he took hold of the covers again, as he slowly began to pull them all the way off her. She could not make her hands work, could not grab the blanket and pull it back up. He was exposing her whole body! She shivered in the chill of the compartment, laying there on her back, clad only in her sheer brassiere and her tiny, see-through, hot pink bikini panties. He leaned over her, sliding his hand over her round hip, slipping his fingers in under the waistband of her panties and peeling them down.
Her face burning with shame, her head reeling from the pressure of the hot blood pounding in it, Brenda tried desperately to move her hand, to grab hold of her panties and pull them back up, but she couldn't. She lay there very still, very quiet, still pretending to be asleep while he pulled her panties down, down over her hips, down over the fat mound of her pussy, while every fiber of her body cried out for her to scream.
When the slithery panties came away from her crotch, when the conductor got his first glimpse of her bare cunt, he made a low, guttural sound. He stared down hungrily at the lush brown bush above her puckering pink slit, at the soft, curling hairs that fringed her pliant, inviting vaginal lips, at the jutting, resilient cheeks of her ass beneath.
Brenda had never been so humiliated in all her life. Her anger at herself for allowing the thing to continue past the point of no return built and built until she couldn't bear it anymore. She had to turn her fury elsewhere ... to Bob! Bob, who'd left her all alone to go and milk a new contact, Bob, who only thought of himself, Bob, who probably wouldn't care who raped her anyway. She shivered. She knew that wasn't true. She knew that a man as insecure as Bob would care very much who was making love to her, with or without her consent, and especially with. If she did fuck the conductor, if she did really give herself to him, holding back nothing, what a bitter lesson that would teach her husband! As she thought that, an awesome wave of excitement hit her.
The conductor, oblivious to her mind, interested only in her sexy young body, yanked her panties down over her legs, pulling them off her feet and throwing them on the floor. Then he put both his hairy hands to her knees and pushed outward.
Brenda fought the prying pressure with all her strength, but it was useless. As the train lurched into motion, jerkily at first, then smoothly rolling out of the station and into the train yard and into the night, the man parted her thighs with little effort, splayed them wide open, and peered down at her bare crotch. There was nothing he could not see. The whole horseshoe-shaped hummock of her pussy was tipped up to his view, the hair-fringed lips thick and fleshy at the top of her slit, then tapering down to a thin hairless ribbon at the bottom, at the very mouth of her vagina. He could also see that there was moisture down there, tiny dew-like beads of a clear fluid forming on the inner edges of her pussy lips.
Brenda didn't understand what was happening to her. Her loins were suddenly on fire and she could smell the scent of her own arousal, musky and pungent, wafting up over her belly. Somehow, someway, the stranger had gotten her hot! She cringed inwardly as she realized that she was ready for him, hot and wet and waiting ... and he knew it.
The panting man reached for his fly, unzipping it, shoving his hand inside. He drew out his long, thick-fleshed penis and held it cradled in his fist like a great club. The massive, purplish head pulsed inches from her thigh, every vein along the underside of the hard shaft bulging with lust-heated blood, every sinew drawn bowstring taut.
While she watched through slitted eyelids, he tightened his grip around the huge cock, holding it pointed up at his chin, and gave it a single, root-to-tip caress, gliding his fingers down over the dark, yellowish brown skin of his outer sheath, down until they rested in the matted, black hair at its root, down until they touched the wrinkled, brownish-red pouch of his scrotum. As his clenched fist slid back up the shaft, a gush of thin, pearly fluid escaped from the tiny slit in its head. That premature semen oozed down over the blind face of his bulb, down over the shaft, smearing between his fingers in gummy, sticky webs of white.
Brenda's nostrils flared wide as the odor of his crotch, of his dripping penis, hit her. It was like nothing she'd ever smelled before, like something from a zoo, from an animal husbandry experiment. It was cloying, richly sweet, and underpinned with a rank, sour musk that stole her breath away.
The conductor reached down with his other hand and put the tips of his thumb and forefinger to her naked pussy, gingerly prying the sleepy, puffy pink petals apart, peeling them back on themselves to expose the glistening wet entrance to her tight vagina.
As the man touched her pussy, fondling it as if he owned it, something terrible happened to Brenda: she began to orgasm! It struck her like lightning, suddenly and without warning. One second she was aware of a warmth, a tingling in her loins, and the next, as he began to work his fingers up and down her moist pink gulley, joy exploded in her crotch. It was so unexpected, so devastating, that she was caught completely off-guard ... and for the first time since the conductor's entry into her compartment, she moved. To her horror, her shame, she moved her hips, lifting her pussy up, grinding it incitefully against his hard, thick fingers, urging them on, forcing them to dig deeper into her slit, to rub over the oily little marble of her clitoris.
Sensing her ecstasy, the man forcefully thrust his middle finger into her vagina, pushing aside the smooth, hot, slippery walls, screwing it in to the knuckle, then fucking it in and out faster and faster, until her cunt was oozing clear, sticky juice in a steady stream, until it dribbled down over her saucy butt-cheeks.
Unable to help herself, Brenda writhed on the bed, responding to the man's obscenely intimate fingering with soft mewlings, with salacious twisting and squirming of her hips, responding to the tickling of her cunt into the long, thick digit. She was falling through space, tumbling head over heels through the blackness, her mind alight with orgasmic fireworks, and it didn't matter who was bringing her off ... all that mattered was that she was cumming!
Only when the conductor had her tight pussy really sopping wet, when his finger gleamed with her lubricant, when her swollen pink pussylips drooped down from her mound, gaping wide open, did he stop finger-fucking her.
Brenda gasped as his finger jerked from her belly, leaving her contracting cunt to squeeze on thin air. A whining, subservient moan erupted from her throat and the sound of it, the wanton arousal in it, shamed and degraded her. And strangely, perversely, that added humiliation only served to incite her further, to make her ravenous for more of the lewd, illicit touch, for more orgasm at the hands of a stranger. She flung her slender thighs wide apart, lifting her knees up, tipping her sticky wet, friction-reddened pussy up to him, offering it to him submissively.
As the conductor grunted, as he scrambled between her splayed thighs, bending the head of his huge penis down, wedging her legs open even wider with his knees, as she felt the crushing weight of his body come down on her loins, she thought she would faint dead away from the excitement raging through her body. He was going to fuck her! To fuck her with his long, dark-fleshed penis! And she wanted it! Wanted it in the worst way, every gruesomely thick inch of it!
When he pressed the wet, hot tip of his cock into the open mouth of her cunt, she whimpered, automatically pushing her hips up, making the broad head nose between her labia, making her tight pussy sphincter stretch over it. He was so big! She gasped as the man responded to her thrust with a thrust of his own. For a horrible instant, the pressure upon her cunt, her whole crotch was agonizing, and then, slowly at first, her pussy yielded to him and the massive knob insolently rammed up into her slick channel, ripping the walls wide apart.
"UHHHH!! ! " she bawled, her hands clutching desperately at his broad shoulders as the huge penis glided faster, pouring into her, filling every inch of her vaginal passage with hard, throbbing flesh. As the shaft surged up into her, its upper surface rasped salaciously over her already excited clitoris, sending shooting stars of pleasure racing through her mound. He kept on pushing until his whole penis was sheathed in her hot, tight belly, until his massive, sperm-swollen balls ground incitefully into the silky softness of her buttocks.
Never in her life had Brenda been so completely filled, so plundered! As he hauled his rampaging cock back through the clutching, sucking grip of her vagina, as the rim of his cockhead teased over the wet nodule of her clitoris, she began to climax again. Her hips started jerking out of control, her back arching up from the bed, and she was cumming a hundred times harder than the first time, her pussy squeezing at the big, lust-heated erection.
"YES!" she shrieked, trying to lock her long legs around the small of his back. He was too thick, too broad in the body. The best she could do was to clamp her knees tightly against his sides while her orgasming cunt milked and contracted about his thrusting cock.
As the train picked up speed, swaying rhythmically from side to side as it raced along the track, the burly conductor panted and puffed, fucking into her tight, wet pussy, whipping his long, gleaming penis in and out, mashing the hairy root against the sticky, searing hot meat of her crotch, wallowing in the tugging caress of her hotly spasming cunt.
Totally out of control, totally lost, the new bride cooed and shuddered at every brutal impact of his loins against hers, at every lewd throb of his plundering shaft against her pulsating pussy walls, at the feel of his bloated scrotum digging lasciviously between her bare ass-cheeks.
"HAR-DER!" she whined up at him, her cheeks horribly flushed, her hands stroking his face and neck. "DO IT HAR-DER!! "
The conductor's face turned beet red and he shifted into high gear, ramming his long cock in and out as fast as he could, beating a savage tattoo on the wet flesh of her loins.
She could feel him reaching his peak, feel it in the brutal skewering he was giving her, feel it in the spastic twitching of that big cock deep in her belly. She rolled her hips wildly, making his penis rub round and round over the slippery drapery of her cunt and pulled his face down to hers. She opened her mouth wide to receive his thick, wet tongue, and as the hot, pebbly thing slid between her teeth and over her tongue, she closed her lips tight about it and began to suck it. The taste of his mouth was sharp and acrid, but she didn't care. He was almost ready to cum, to fill her trembling pussy with his rich, creamy sperm!
Above the rasping sound of their breathing, above the obscene suck and slap of their torrid loins, above the clickety-clack of the train, the sound of someone trying the compartment's door handle was plainly audible. Then there was a brisk knock.
That knock froze the conductor in mid-thrust. His dripping, friction-reddened cock was halfway in her, flexing madly.
"BABY?" Bob said through the door, knocking again. "BABY, IT'S ME. OPEN UP."
"OH, MY GOD!" Brenda gasped.
The conductor seemed amused by her fright. He lowered his hips, sheathing his cock in her cunt to the hairs.
"COME ON, BRENDA!" Bob said, impatiently.
She shuddered violently as the huge cock slid home. She almost climaxed again. Fighting out from under the ecstatic delirium, she frantically kissed the conductor's face.
"PLEASE!" she begged him in a whisper. "PLEASE GET OFF! PLEASE, BEFORE HE KNOWS SOMETHING'S WRONG!! ! "
The man snapped his hips hard, slamming his penis in and out of her wet pussy three, four, five times, then jerking it free. No sooner had the long, thick-fleshed rod slipped back, rearing up like a gleaming tree limb between them, than he was scooting down, putting his hands to the sides of her knees, holding her sticky crotch splayed wide. Before Brenda could groan, the conductor was mashing his open mouth against her naked, parted slit, sliding his thick tongue right up into her cunt!
She had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from screaming as he swirled and lashed his long tool about in her belly, sweeping over her inner ridges and folds, greedily eating out her tender pussy.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" the sound of Bob's fist thudded into the compartment.
The conductor gave her quivering cunt one last lick, teasing the tip of his tongue around the puffy petals and through the wet hairs, then jumped up from the bed and began stuffing his hugely erect penis back into his pants.
If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Brenda would've laughed aloud at the man's antics. His cock refused to bend and it absolutely had to bend if he was going to get it back inside his fly. It was like he was trying to cram a baseball bat down his pants! When he finally succeeded ... only by squatting down and changing the angle of the dangle ... he turned abruptly for the door. She had just enough time to whip the covers back over her highly aroused and nakedly splayed pink cunt before he unlocked the door and opened it.
"Dammit, Bren..." Bob began, but he shut up quickly when he came face to face with the lewdly grinning conductor. He looked over the man's shoulder and saw his wife bundled up under the covers of the lower berth and a sinking feeling hit him in the pit of the stomach. He turned on the conductor at once. "What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded.
"He was just checking our tickets, Bob," Brenda answered for the man. Under the covers, her pussy felt absolutely marvelous, all tingly and glowing, and she had to fight the wicked urge to slip her hand down and touch it, to rub her erect clitoris with a fingertip.
Bob regarded the man suspiciously. "Why the hell was the door locked then?" he said.
"Sometimes," the conductor told him, his smile unswerving, "the doors lock of their own accord, especially if they are slammed too hard. A faulty mechanism. I will have it checked in the morning. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have to see to the other passengers' tickets."
For a second, Bob remained right where he was, blocking the man's path out of the compartment, then stepped aside and let him pass. There was a burning pain in his stomach and his big hands were drawn up into massive fists. He was being stupid, he told himself. He knew Brenda better than to doubt her ... after all, she was his wife. She wasn't the type to fool around with a guy like that. He was just imagining things, acting like the typical jealous husband.
He shut the door hard, then tested it to see if the lock shut. It didn't. When he turned back to Brenda, he noticed how rosy her cheeks were, almost like she had a fever.
"What did you come back for?" she said, smiling at him.
Bob had to stop and think a second. "My All-American picture," he said, remembering. "I wanted to show Art and Gwen what I looked like in my prime."
"It's in the small suitcase," she said.
"I know where it is," he said, moving over to the luggage rack to take down the bag. As he did, his foot touched something on the floor. Automatically, he glanced down ... and froze.
"Is something the matter?" Brenda asked, sweetly.
Bob caught himself at once. "No, I just had a little twinge in my back," he said, quickly taking down the bag and opening it on the small window table. He took out the picture, closed the bag and replaced it in the rack, then moved for the door.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay here with me?" Brenda said, teasingly, sliding her naked leg out from under the covers and waving it at him provocatively.
Bob's face turned beet red all the way up to the tips of his ears. The change was so sudden, so alarming, that Brenda sat up in bed, holding the covers up around her chin.
"Bob! Bob, are you all right?! " she said.
The hot, angry color slowly faded from his cheeks. As it did, a strange smile passed over his face, a distant smile, as if he were reacting to some cosmic joke.
"Of course, I'm all right," he said, too easily. "The Harris' are waiting. I've got to go."
With that, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. He walked about three feet down the corridor, then stopped and sagged back against the metal wall.
Bob "Curly" Jones was anything but all right. He felt like all the stuffing had been ripped out of him with a meat hook. What had he touched on the floor with his foot, what he had glanced at so briefly, was something that he wished to God he had never seen. The something was Brenda's hot pink bikini panties.
CHAPTER THREE
Bob returned to the lounge car, not because he felt much like showing off his old team photo anymore or because he felt like getting inside investment dope from Art, but because he had no place else to go.
Right off the bat, the Harris' asked him if anything was wrong, as his face was very pale and he was clearly rattled. He told them about his bad back, about the big game injury that still troubled him, and that seemed to satisfy them. That they had been able to tell he was upset made him angry. As a salesman, he was used to concealing things like his emotions and motives, and his loss of control in the situation was in a way more aggravating to him than what he had discovered about his wife. That she could get to him so easily, shake him up so badly, infuriated him, and he was determined to make a conscious effort to have a good time.
Mostly, the effort involved drinking a lot of martinis. He was still drinking when the Harris' begged off, pleading exhaustion. They said goodnight and he sat alone in the dimply lit observation deck of the lounge car, watching the stars and the dark, shadowy shapes of trees and farm houses glide past.
Bob didn't want to go back to his compartment. He ordered another drink and the white-uniformed waiter gave him a doubtful look. Bob insisted and the waiter gave in, ambling downstairs to the bar.
The big blonde man slumped back in his reclining chair and closed his eyes. His whole body felt numbed by the alcohol. He could hardly feel his hips and tongue. He'd drunk way too much, but he didn't give a damn. He was on the verge of being sloppy, shit-faced drunk, and even though the booze had anesthetized his body, it hadn't done anything to shut down his mind. He kept running over the last few seconds in the compartment, when Brenda had stuck her leg out of the covers and invited him into bed with her. He knew now that she was naked under the sheet, that she'd probably been screwing that conductor, and the thought that she'd want to take him on, too, right afterwards, made him feel physically ill.
When the waiter brought the martini, Bob drank it down like water. Then he made a face.
"Did you put any vodka at all in that?" he demanded of the man. "I couldn't taste it if you did. Tasted like nothing at all."
"I put vodka in it, sir," the man said, trying to smile confidently. "I put the same measure in all the drinks. I think you've probably had enough, that's why you can't taste it. I think you should go back to your compartment now."
Bob shrugged off the man's helping hand and staggered to his feet. He leaned against the side of the seat, rocking back and forth. A smile spread across his face.
"Train sure is moving funny," he said.
"Yes, I guess it is," the waiter said. "Would you like some help getting back to your compartment?"
Bob scowled at him. "No," he said, pushing off stubbornly down the aisle.
It felt like he had big soft pillows under his feet and his knees were all rubbery, but Bob made it down the stairs and started off through the train. The only time he got a bit queasy was when he passed between the cars, walking through the little, covered area above the couplings. The problem was that the floor moved, the metal plates sliding back and forth as the train rounded curves. He hurried on through the empty corridors until he came to his own compartment.
Bob started to open the door, but as he did, he got a horrible image in his mind. He could see himself going into the compartment, undressing, then having Brenda wake up and demand that he get in bed with her, that he fuck her. The thought of pushing his cock into her already fucked pussy, of feeling another man's cum lubricating the way for him, made him recoil.
He stood in the center of the hallway, swaying back and forth with the motion of the train, unable to decide what to do. Finally, he realized that he had to go to the bathroom, and that put an end to his immediate dilemma. He staggered on down the corridor to the metal door marked "Men." The door was closed, but there was a little gurney, a maintenance cart with mops and sponges and trash cans parked across the hall.
Bob opened the door and lurched into the bathroom. It was a very small room, with just enough for one person to use the lavatory, then turn to wash his hands in the sink. The walls were made of a copper-colored metal and there was a mirror and electric outlet over the sink. The single window was made of frosted glass.
He straddled the toilet bowl, steadying himself with a hand on a little brass handle set in the wall and intended for that purpose, and then unzipped his fly. As he reached inside and took hold of his penis, he winced. It was already half-hard. A piss hard. He cradled the throbbing rod in his hand, admiring it. He had a hell of a big cock, he told himself as he slid his fingers up and down, making the thick outer sheath of skin glide back and forth over the stiffening inner bone. His penis pulsed hotly against his palm and a surge of pleasure rushed down the shaft, tickling over his testicles like tiny sparks of electricity. He had a hell of a lot bigger cock than that flabby-assed conductor, he thought smugly, massaging himself rhythmically, working the long rod through his tightened fist. He was a hell of a lot more of a man, too.
Bob stood there and masturbated ... not because he was particularly horny ... his balls still ached from the long honeymoon ... but because he was drunk, because he wanted somehow to get back at Brenda for cheating on him. Masturbating was a drunk's childish answer. He was depriving her of his cock while getting pleasure, denying her the use of it, while indulging himself in a selfish act.
"I'd rather fuck my goddamn hand," he muttered, his eyelids half-closing as the friction heat built up in the shaft of his penis in his palm. He was jacking off quite hard, pulling, pushing on the luridly erect stick of meat as fast as he could. As he did that, he imagined Brenda sitting on the John in front of him, staring in horror at what he was doing, unable to get up, to move away. He imagined her being forced to look right into the tiny slit in the bobbing head of his penis while he worked himself up to a gushing, spurting climax. He laughed aloud. How sweet it would be to squirt in her face! To spray the cheating bitch from eyebrows to chin in his thick, sticky cum!
The train was going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, and Bob was masturbating in time to it, hanging on to the handle with one hand while he pumped his thick-fleshed cock with the other, groaning softly, panting as the delicious glow of pleasure built up in his big bulb and in his scrotum. He was going to cum, all right, cum all over the place! Hot, slippery pre-cum was already beginning to seep from his cockhead, and his lewdly massaging fingers smeared the viscous fluid all over his erect shaft, from the spongy crowning ridge of his bulb to the massive, hair-fringed root of his cock.
"YEAH! YEAH!! " he gasped, shutting his eyes tight, holding his hand still, squeezing rhythmically with his fingers while he fucked his hips forward and back, driving his penis through the flexing ring. Making like a pussy, he thought excitedly. A cumming pussy!
Then something very startling happened. The door to the lavatory suddenly swung inward and he found himself looking at a lovely Latin girl dressed in a white maid's uniform. From that point on things seemed to be moving in slow motion.
He tried to turn aside, to stuff his erect, semen dripping cock back into his pants, but before he even stepped back from the John, the maid was looking down at him, at what he held cradled in his hand. Her dark eyes grew huge and round and there was a sudden blush of color in her cheeks.
"OH!" she said, her hand jerking automatically up to her face, as if to shield the sight of that luridly aroused cock from her eyes.
Bob felt his own face burn with embarrassment. Made clumsy and confused by the booze and by his own shame, he turned the wrong way, turned to face her, aiming the huge throbbing lance right at her pretty face.
She stared at it in horror. The expression on her face said that she knew what he'd been doing to himself in the privacy of the bathroom.
Then the train took a sharp curve and both of them were thrown off balance. Bob was hurled back against the wall and the poor maid was thrust forward, into the bathroom with him, thrown right into his arms. The bathroom door slammed shut behind her.
For a long moment, Bob just stood there, his back to the wall, his arms around the girl's slender waist. He could feel the firm, jutting mounds of her breasts pushing against his chest, feel the svelte curve of her hips just below his hands! He could smell the sweet scent of her black hair. It was a moment of pure rapture. The moment ended abruptly when his lust-thickened cock, which was sandwiched between their tightly pressed stomachs, gave a hearty throb.
"NO!! " the girl gasped, suddenly fighting him, pushing back from the burning, twitching pole of his naked cock.
Bob slipped his hands up and caught the girl's wrists, pinning her hands to her hips. "WAIT," he said, his tongue thick from the martinis. "WAIT A SECOND, BABY!"
"If you no let me go, I scream!" she said, her eyes full of terror.
He smiled at her. She was a sexy little piece of tail. Her skin was very smooth, very soft, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like if she was naked, naked and rubbing up against him. He shivered.
"LET ME GO!" she whined, struggling, twisting against the iron-hard grip of his hands.
He squeezed her wrists even harder.
"OOOHHHH!" she whimpered, her long eyelashes fluttering at the sudden, intense pain. She stopped fighting him at once and went limp, sobbing softly, the tears running down over her round, blushing cheeks.
Bob found himself suddenly, very, very excited, more excited than he could ever remember being. He knew what was causing the arousal, too. It was the combination of her dark, smoldering Latin beauty and the fact that he was using brute force to subdue her. He puffed and panted, unable to get enough air in his lungs, and his long, thick cock jerked up and down spastically, every vein bulging, every ligament jutting. He carefully watched her face as she stole a furtive peek at his massively aroused penis, then shut her eyes tight. He was sure that he caught a tiny, flickering bit of lust there, under the terror and revulsion.
"Please, mister," she begged him, "let me go. If you do, I promise I won't tell anyone."
Bob smiled. An idea had just popped into his boozy brain, an idea about how he could kill two birds with one stone, how he could get back at Brenda, how he could have himself one hell of a good time doing it.
"You don't want to go," he said, hoarsely. "What?! ! " she said.
He nodded. "We both know what you want, oaby," he said, pushing her wrists behind her back and trapping them in his big left hand.
She glared at him, her sensuously thick upper lip curling back from her white, even teeth.
"You want some of my big, white dick," he told her. His pulse rate soared as he reached up with his free hand and began unbuttoning the front of her blouse. She tried to twist away, but he screwed her wrists up higher behind her back and she whimpered and stopped struggling.
"If you don't leave me alone," she said weakly, "I'm going to start screaming."
"I'll make you scream, all right," he said, slipping his hand into her blouse. He groaned as he felt bare skin under his fingers. No brassiere! Just firm, supple breasts. He brushed the tips of his fingers over her nipples and found them long and hot and hard, all crinkled up from the peaks of her up-thrusting mounds.
The maid jerked her face to the side, averting her eyes from his, her face burning with shame.
"No, you don't want it," he said, catching one of the stubs between his thumb and forefinger and rolling it back and forth incitefully. "Not much!! "
"You're hurting me!" she moaned.
Bob let go of her nipple and roughly pushed the front of her blouse open, spreading it apart, exposing the sleek, honey-colored cones of her ripe breasts, the tight chocolate brown points of her nipples.
"OOOOHHHH!" he groaned, leering at the succulent pears, running his fingers over them, mashing them hard up against her chest, making the hard nipples dig into his palm. He mauled her animalishly, kneading her breasts under his fingers, squeezing them into distorted bulging shapes, plucking and twisting ruthlessly at her taunted buds.
The maid stood there, sobbing, trembling, shuddering violently each time he tweaked her nipples, her cheeks blushing darker and darker.
Bob let go of her breasts and pulled back, looking down at them, at the red marks around her areolas, at the way they had crinkled up even more, sticking up proudly like little brown pencil stubs.
"Want me to suck 'em up?" he said.
She recoiled, her eyes full of panic.
"I thought so," he said, dropping his open mouth onto the tautened peak of her right breast. He didn't just take the nipple between his lips; he sucked the whole end of her breast into his mouth, sucking, pulling the hot bud way over the back of his tongue.
"AAAAGGGHHHH!" she gasped, shivering as he nursed hungrily on half her breast at once, as he swept his hot, wet tongue round and round, teasing her erect nipple.
"UMMMMMM," he hummed ecstatically, greedily working his mouth over the silky smooth flesh, forcing the hard stub to push in and out of his pursed lips. As he sucked and licked, he used his free hand to knead the lower half of her breast, to milk it into his blazing mouth.
"STOP! STOP, PLEEEEEEASE!! " she moaned, trying to back up, to pull her tender breast from his madly sucking mouth.
Bob would have none of that. He bit down, digging the hard edge of his teeth into the supple flesh, nipping at her stiff nipple.
"OH!" she cried, flinching as he gnawed at her breast.
Bob munched and mouthed the smooth, slobber-moistened skin, delighting in the way the girl writhed each time he nipped her. He could sense her growing confusion. She didn't know whether she wanted him to stop any longer; she didn't know if she would try and escape, even if he let go of her arms. He was getting to her!
He raised his mouth from her gleaming nipple, admiring his handiwork for a second, then mashing his face against the smooth skin of her belly, licking it, kissing it passionately.
"OOOHHH, AAAGGGHHH!" she warbled, as he bent lower and lower, as that wet, lashing tongue of his squirmed down over her stomach, down to the waistband of her panties.
Bob tried to get his tongue in under the elastic band, but it was too tight. He straightened up and looked her in the eye. "YOU'D LIKE FOR ME TO LICK YOU ON THE PUSSY, WOULDN'T
YOU?" he said.
"UHHH!! " she whined, shaking her head.
He reached down and caught up the hem of her skirt, rumpling it up over her belly, exposing her long, silky legs and the small, black nylon triangle of her panties. Without pausing, he hooked his fingers in under the waistband and yanked downward, ripping the underwear right off her body, unveiling the broad, plump mound of her cunt.
"NOOOOOO!" she bawled, writhing, trying desperately to close her thighs tight and conceal her most secret place from his leering eyes. It was an impossible task. Her slim thighs were set too far apart on her pelvis. Even when she had her knees clamped tightly together, the entire jutting mound of her pussy was visible.
Bob stared at her pussy, at the dense tuft of wild black hairs that topped it, at the glistening, petal-like lips almost totally hidden under the mat of thick fur. He could see tiny beads of moisture clinging to the soft curls that fringed the parted labia. Groaning, he reached out and grabbed her pussy, clutching it all in his big hand, raking his fingers through the thatch of silky soft hairs.
The maid shuddered violently at the intimate caress, but she didn't try to kick or squirm away. She stood there, pliant, like putty in his hands.
"SWEET LITTLE CUNT," he murmured, rubbing his fingertips up and down on either side of her deepening slit. There was no doubt in his mind that he had her now. He could smell her passion, rich and musky and pungent, and he could feel it, thick and viscous under his massaging fingertips.
He kneaded her pussy flesh greedily, incitefully, just as he had kneaded her breasts. After a few seconds, the maid let out a strange, mewling cry of subservience and shame, and then her smooth hips began to move, to jerk, to buck against his lewdly insinuating fingers.
Bob fondled her harder, delighting in the husky cooing sounds he was wringing from her lips.
"like that, huh?" he said, sliding his index finger down into her moist gulley, down in between the swollen sticky petals of her cunt.
She shut her eyes tight, swallowing down the cry of rapturous pleasure that was bubbling in her throat. Her lips were parted, her tongue moving back and forth over the edge of her white teeth, so pink and wet.
"Would you like it better if I kissed it?" he said, teasing deeper into her slit, feeling for the jutting little pearl of her clitoris.
The maid went rigid when he touched her thrill center, went rigid and gasped, her eyelashes fluttering.
"Wouldn't you like it better if it was my tongue doing this?" he said, working the juicy nodule back and forth with his fingertip.
Her svelte hips began to squirm wantonly, with a seeming will of their own. Though she made no verbal answer, those lascivious thrusts were answer enough for Bob. He grinned at the blushing, panting girl.
"Yes, I guess you would," he said. "Some kind of kick having a blonde Anglo between those brown thighs of yours, licking away at your hairy cunt, huh? Something to tell your grandchildren about, huh?"
The maid opened her eyes and looked at him. There was anger in his voice. Menace, too.
"If you want your pussy sucked," he said, "you'll do everything I say. No questions. No nothing. Understand?"
Bob didn't really give the girl a chance to respond. He let go of her hands and grabbed her around the waist, twisting her to the side, then pushing down with all his strength.
"OH!" the maid wailed as he forced her to sit on the toilet, as her bare cheeks made contact with the cool plastic seat.
"No trouble," he reminded her, his right hand slipping up to hold the blood-thickened shaft of his upraised penis.
She looked up at that manly staff, lifted over her head like some kind of fleshy sword, and she suddenly lost all her composure. Whether it was the fact that he was blonde that did it or whether she was just lonely and love-starved, being a stranger in a strange land, the Latin girl let out a shrill whimper of agreement. Then, instead of trying to get away, to avoid the inevitable lewd contact, instead of trying to push down the hem of her skirt and hide the wet nakedness of her vagina, she grabbed her skirt, pulled it up to her chin, and splayed her thighs as wide apart as the narrow room would allow, offering him the black-furred mound of her cunt in a gesture of unmistakable desire.
Bob looked at her proffered pussy critically, at the round jutting cheeks of her ass beneath, as he carelessly played with his erection.
"Tongue City?" he said.
The maid wasn't sure what he meant, but recognized the first word and nodded rapidly, lifting her knees, tipping her seething slit up to him. When he didn't immediately drop to his knees in front of her, when he didn't immediately plant his hot, wet mouth on her palpitating pussy, when he didn't immediately slide his long, thick tongue up into her contracting passage, the passionate young woman let out a bleating moan of impatience ... and slid her own delicate fingers down around the outsides of her thighs and in under the curve of her buttocks, taking hold of the ragged, red flanges of her pussylips and in one sudden movement, peeling them back, splaying her slit wide open from top to bottom, showing him the creamy crimson lining, glistening with pungent lubricant.
"First," he said, "I need a suck."
The maid blinked at him, not understanding.
Bob grinned. "Here, I'll show you," he said, bending his luridly erect penis down from the vertical, bending it down until the massive, rubbery head was on a line with the girl's face. Then he moved forward, aiming his cock with his fist.
The girl plainly was caught off-guard. She just sat there with her legs spread as the hot bulb mashed into her lips and chin, smearing them with his thick pre-cum.
"GO ON, SUCK!" he said, grinding his hips, making his knob dig harder against and between her lips, crushing them back against her teeth. The sight of his massively engorged cock, ruddy with seething blood, jammed against her pretty mouth, dwarfing it, very much appealed to him.
The maid shut her eyes and began to cry again, her hands fluttering helplessly at her sides. She turned her face to the side, causing the heavy cockhead to slide across her lips.
Bob was too drunk and too damned angry to give a hoot in hell whether or not the girl liked giving blow jobs. He reached down and caught hold of the point of her chin and turned her face back toward him.
"OPEN," he said.
She looked at the huge, dripping head, then up at his face, her eyes pleading for mercy, offering anything else, anything but that.
"Shit!" Bob snarled, sliding his fingers up higher, digging the tips into the hinge points of her jaw.
"UH!" she gasped, as white hot pain lanced into her skull, as her mouth opened of its own accord, like the mouth of a ventriloquist's dummy.
"That's better," Bob said, guiding his fleshy rod forward with his other hand. He rammed the heavy tip between her parted lips and teeth and into the hot, moist cavern of her mouth.
The maid gagged and choked as the blood-filled snout insolently crushed into her mouth, as the salty flavor of his pre-cum exploded over her taste buds. Though she whimpered, though she tried to shake her head to avoid the monstrous, nasty bulb, it kept on pushing forward, filling her mouth to the point of pain, pushing out against the insides of her cheeks, mashing down on her tongue, pushing up against the roof of her mouth, forcing her jaws to creak further apart until her lips ovaled obscenely over the bloated head.
Bob wallowed in the delicious heat of her mouth. He had to have more! More! He leaned into her, driving his penis deeper between her soft, wet lips.
The maid's eyes shut as the great, spongy ridge of his cockhead popped past her tightly stretched lips, squirming between her teeth and into her mouth. It forced her jaws so far apart that it felt like her whole face was going to crack open.
The sight of her thick, sensual lips wrapped tight about his cock's neck, of his penis bulb distending, ballooning out her smooth mocha-colored cheeks, did something to Bob. Even more than the marvelous feeling of being held, trapped between the warm wetness of tongue and cheeks, the sight of his huge cock ramming into her face enraged and aroused him.
"EAT IT!" he groaned, sliding the thick shaft to her, pushing the tip down over the back of her tongue, making the underside of it rasp over her lip.
She gagged horribly as the blunt tip butted against the back of her throat, her hands reaching up to try and push it back ... but it was too late, far too late. Bob was already jerking his cock back, watching in utter fascination as his great cockhead reappeared between her ovaled lips. Easily half of the ruddy, vein-marbled length was coated with her lubricating saliva. He thrust again, harder, and his moistened penis jammed deeper, the snout nosing into the tightness of her throat.
The maid openly wept as the cruelly lunging rod surged down into her gullet, stretching the walls wide apart, ripping them. But even though the unnatural invasion of her mouth was sheer agony, she did not put up any real struggle, did not try to cry out or hurt him in order to get free.
Bob put his hand flat on top of her head and, holding his hips still, began to rock her face back and forth, sliding his great slobbery bulb and shaft between her wet lips, forcing her to eat it all.
She groaned as she felt his coarse pubic hair rasp her lips, her nose, her chin, and her eyes opened wide in shock and astonishment as she watched the impossibly huge and thick shaft glide forward and back right under her very nose, as she felt the smooth, velvety skin working salaciously between her lips, over her throat, delving into her unprotected throat.
Her expression was so bug-eyed, so full of childish wonder, that it made Bob laugh out loud.
"Good, huh?" he said, chuckling, making her bob her head faster, reaching down to pull his scrotum out of his fly, then mashing his testicles against her saliva-moistened chin.
"HNNNNNNNN," she panted, moving like a puppet, a flesh and blood puppet to suit his whims.
As Bob fucked into her throat, he could feel her starting to push against him, her forehead pressing eagerly against his palm as he brought his bulge back from the depths of her gullet, pressing forward to hurry the moment when all that straining, lust-hardened meat was buried in her throat. She was learning to like it, all right.
"NOW, SUCK IT, BABY," he said, letting go of her head and digging his fingers into her cheeks, trying to get his desires through to her.
The maid was oblivious to everything but the feel of all that hot penis rubbing against her lips and tongue. She bobbed her head without his prompting, panting gasping around the impossibly thick pole.
What she was doing felt great, but Bob was still a long way from cumming. He needed more friction and needed it at once. He let go of her face and slipped his hand down between her legs, working his fingers down over the hairy summit of her cunt, digging them into her wet slit. He easily found the hot little shaft of her clitoris and began stroking it, pinching it, rolling it about between his fingertips.
The effect was immediate. The raven-haired girl went berserk. Her hips starting flipping on the toilet seat and she started sucking on his big cock like there was no tomorrow. Her cheeks went concave about the gleaming shaft and she nursed passionately on the whole bulging length of it as it plowed incessantly between her lips.
"OOOOWWWEEEE!" Bob grunted, his knees turning to jelly at the sheer animal power of her suction. It felt like she was trying to suck his balls right up through the hollow stem of his piercing cock! He fingered her harder, working his throbbing tool in time to the pinching, tweezing caresses.
The maid whimpered and hunched up from the toilet seat like a wanton slut, her lips nibbling, her tongue lashing at the hard-driving rod as it burrowed into her throat. Between her legs, skyrockets of pleasure were going off, coursing up over her seething, oozing slit, tickling at her tautened nipples. She was getting hotter by the second and could tell that he was getting hotter, too, not only by the increased fury of his thrusts, but by the taste of his cock. She could taste the ever-increasing drip of his pre-cum. It filled her mouth with a salty flavor and an acrid odor that made her want to swoon, that drove her wild with raw animal lust.
"HEY!" Bob exclaimed as her hands suddenly jerked up to clutch at his muscular buttocks, as her fingers dug into the firm cheeks. Mind-numbing waves of joy lanced through his loins as she went for broke, bobbing, shifting her head, stuffing his towering penis in and out of her mouth as fast as she could. Her tightly stretched lips, rubbed bright red from friction against the thick shaft, glided eagerly down over the bulging veins, the long, curly pubic hairs, down to nurse at the very root of his steaming manhood.
Bob couldn't believe the change that had taken place in the girl. She was a fiend for cock! She was sucking with all her might, bobbing her head as fast as she could and pulling ... pulling with her hands, forcing his hips to fuck into her open throat!
"HNNNNNN!! ! she whined frantically, her smooth hips leaping up from the toilet seat, slamming her cunt hard against his hand.
Suddenly, the finger Bob was using to stroke her clitoris was engulfed in a tight, hot passage. Her pussy had gobbled it up! He felt the seething fleshy inner folds and ridges, smoothing his digit around inside as she humped it, as she greedily worked it in and out. He stuffed a second finger in beside the first, wedging the walls of her pussy wide apart, letting her go to town.
Everything was coming unglued, getting hotter and hotter. His whole cock was glowing with delicious sensation; her pussy was squeezing at his fingers, contracting around them hungrily and the slick moisture of her loins was smearing all over the insides of her thighs and all over his hand. Bob wanted it all to stay the way it was. He wanted to keep on feeling that amazing warmth, that tingling in his balls, to keep on feeling her wet pussy tugging at his fingers; he wanted to remain on the verge of orgasm, in that sweet, sweet limbo that comes just before total release. What he wanted and what was to be were two different things.
"MUHHHHH!! ! " the maid warbled about his slogging penis, her eyes bulging.
Bob knew what was about to happen. He groaned as her pussy clamped down on his fingers with a vengeance. She was cumming!
Her hands dug into his buttocks frantically as her own ass began to flip and jerk spastically, out of rhythm, out of control. She pulled her head back, preparing to bottom his cock one more time, but in her orgasmic confusion, she pulled back too far and the huge, red cock slipped from her lips, snapping up against his chest, giving her an obscene salute. Frantic from her climax, she went wild on his upraised penis, licking it with her small pink tongue, nibbling it with her teeth, making a trough out of her soft lips and sliding them feverishly up and down the underside of his shaft, down over his aching testicles, then all the way back up to the semen-oozing tip. She licked away the white fluid, whimpering with pleasure, then mashed her open mouth against the heavy folds of skin directly under his slit. She clamped her teeth down on that tender drapery and, shrieking her ecstasy, shook her head from side to side, snapping his cock back and forth, like a terrier with a long, gleaming, hairless pink rat.
"YYYYEEEE!" he croaked, stiffening as joy detonated in his cockhead, as it coursed down the length of his pulsating meat, spreading over his balls. He tried to fight down the awesome surge of pleasure, not because he didn't want to cum, but because he knew that if he could postpone it, even for a second or two, the final rush would be that much more devastating. He bit down on the tip of his tongue, trying to block out the ecstasy with pain.
The girl was chewing gently on the rubbery head of his cock, cooing deliriously as she tossed her hips. Her cunt had loosened up so that he probably could've jammed his whole fist up her if he'd wanted to. The smell in the closed room was unbelievable, like a den of foxes in heat, all musky and dank. He bit down harder, until he could taste the metallic flavor of his own blood. It was no good. No good at all. The hot Latin girl was licking the pre-cum right from his slit, sweeping her tongue over it again and again. She was playing with dynamite and didn't know it ... or maybe she did. None of that mattered.
Bob let out a choked gasp as the dam burst in his loins, as pleasure engulfed him, as his stiff spear began to buck and jerk madly against her face.
"OH! OH!! " she cried, trying to catch hold of the twitching thing, to get the head back between her lips.
That was not part of Bob's game plan. He wanted to have his pleasure and revenge at the same time. Because the revenge was taken out on a surrogate Brenda, a hapless maid, it was not any less sweet.
He jumped back a step, grabbing his cock by the root, fast-pumping it like a maniac, holding it aimed at her startled face, her open mouth.
He could feel the first spurt come gushing up from his balls, feel it spritzing up the hollow stem of his penis, feel it jetting from his bulb like white lava.
"UHHHH!! " she wailed as semen splattered her cheek, dribbling pale gobs off of the edge of her jaw and earlobe. She moved her mouth over, opening it wide, wiggling her tongue to catch the next spray.
Bob anticipated her maneuver and pointed his cock higher, shooting a long strand of sperm into her hairline.
"NO, PLEEEEEASE!" she bawled miserably as the warm fluid ran down the center of her forehead, down between her eyebrows, down over the bridge of her nose.
The next gust hit her square on the tip of the nose and splattered all over the front of her face, tiny drops like white mist over her cheeks. That seemed to break her spirit. She stopped pleading with him and slumped back against the toilet tank.
The best laid plans of mice and men, Bob thought, still masturbating furiously. He wasn't getting the kind of revenge he wanted, wasn't getting the kind of satisfaction he thought he would. The sobbing girl was not Brenda ... hurting her wasn't what he wanted to do.
"OOOHHH, HHEEEEE!" he groaned, grabbing her by the hair and ramming his spurting cock into her mouth.
She whinnied ecstatically as warm semen flooded into her tongue and poured down her throat. Then her lips tightened and she began to suck and swallow, suck and swallow, gulping down every drop of the rich, creamy juice.
She kept on sucking, swallowing, until he had no more cum to squirt, until his penis began to wilt and shrivel. Even that didn't seem to bother her. Once she got started sucking cock, she didn't know how to quit. She started bobbing her head again, sucking so hard that his rubbery shaft was drawn out, stretched into a thin band of flaccid flesh.
Bob had to pry her lips off him and then hold her down on the seat with one hand while he stuffed his aching penis back into his fly with the other. Instead of feeling better after having cheated on Brenda, after having paid her back, he felt worse. He felt weak and cheap, and what was worse, every time he looked down at the lovely Latin girl, at the white cum smeared all over her face, at how he had degraded her and done it on purpose to increase his own pleasure, he felt physically ill.
"KISS IT NOW," she begged him, lifting her knees up, showing him the ragged, gaping slit of her hot cunt.
He suddenly was very woozy and had to reach out to steady himself on the wall.
"LICK IT, NOW," she pleaded, running her fingertips round and round the seething fissure.
"Air," he said, gaspingly. "Got to get some air."
With that, he turned and opened the bathroom door and lurched out into the hallway. The door slammed shut and he was alone. It wasn't fair! he told himself. Wasn't fair that he couldn't even let himself enjoy cheating on her! The waves of nausea hit him again and he lunged for the car door. It was cool in the little corridor between the cars and the rush of air over his face made him feel better. He breathed deep and slow, deep and slow, over and over, until the dizziness went away.
What was really ridiculous, really pathetic, was that he sincerely loved Brenda. That was why he couldn't allow himself to really get it on with the Latin maid. His attempt at paying her back was kid stuff. What really stung was the notion that no matter what she did, no matter how she treated him, he would still love her. The idea of being some kind of kick toy didn't appeal to him. He didn't want to be under the thumb of some wanton bitch.
The burning pain in his gut swept over him again and he started to cry, to really cry. He couldn't remember when he'd cried like that before, or if he ever had, and was glad that the sound of his sobbing was muffled by the roar of the train, the clatter of the wheels on the tracks. He bawled like a baby until he was all cried out, until he was completely drained, then straightened up and mopped his face with his sleeve.
He was determined to be practical, pragmatic about what had happened. If his marriage was over, if it was destroyed, then there was nothing he could do, but if there was the slightest hope of salvaging it, he would do his best to make a go of it. That meant he was going to try and get into Brenda's head, to understand what she needed that he wasn't giving her, what she was looking for when she slept with the conductor.
Just the thought of her giving herself to another man made his blood pressure boil. He had to take deep breaths again to calm himself. When he regained his composure, he started back into the car. He got about three steps before his knees went all rubbery and he had to lean against the wall for support. He cursed himself for having drunk so much, for having taken that last martini in particular, then sort of sidled along the smooth metal wall until he got to the door of his compartment. He carefully opened the door, slipped inside, then inched his way, one foot ahead of the other, to the edge of his berth. He tumbled onto the smooth blanket and was instantly, blissfully asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brenda hadn't heard Bob come in that night, so she got quite a surprise when she awoke the next morning to find him sprawled across his berth, fully clothed. That wasn't the only surprise she got, either. When she slipped out of bed to have a look at him, she stepped on something with her bare foot, something soft and slippery. She bent down and picked up her panties from the rug. At first it didn't dawn on her that the underwear was of any importance, Then she remembered who had taken them off of her and when. She also remembered the sudden change that had come over Bob when he was taking down the suitcase.
She glanced over at the slumbering hulk on the opposite bed. Had he seen?! Had he seen her panties on the floor and known that she'd been up to no good?! ! The snoring body told her nothing, except that he'd tied one on. That really worried her because Bob was not usually a heavy drinker.
She moved closer to him, peering at his round face. He was dead to the world. She gently took hold of his shoulder, intending to turn him over and undress him and put him under the covers, where he could sleep it off in comfort. She got him turned onto his back, all right, but no further. The biggest surprise of all was right there, under her nose.
Bob's fly was open! More than that, she could see something white and powdery encrusted on it, Cum! Dried cum! she thought, a great lump rising in her throat. She had to be sure! She reached a trembling hand right into his fly and caught hold of the flaccid, sticky shaft of his penis, then pulled it out into the light of day. Her blood ran cold. The entire head of his penis was encrusted with the same white powder and there were definite signs of lipstick marks around the thick, fleshy neck.
She slumped back onto her own bed like she'd been punched hard in the stomach. There was no doubt in her mind what had happened. Bob had seen her panties and had realized that she'd cheated on him. He'd gone right out and gotten drunk, then gotten some floozy to blow him. Even though she was the instigator of the whole affair, even though she knew she was to blame, she was furious at Bob. Just that he would try to get back at her that way, paying her back in kind, angered her. What right did he have to go out and give his love to another woman when he didn't even have enough to satisfy her?! That he had succeeded in hurting her incensed her ... and made her want to hurt him back, much much worse.
"Hot shot lover," she said to the sleeping man, her tone mocking. "Some man you are. Some husband."
Bob stirred, but did not awaken.
"Do you think this is going to be the end of it?" she said. "Do you think that just because you went out and got yourself sucked off that I'm going to suddenly go all meek and weepy and turn into some kind of house pet who'd never ever do anything like that again?"
Bob snored on.
"Well, if you do, Curly," she said, "you're wrong, dead wrong. I'm not going to let you have the last word on this. I'm not going to give in. You think that you're a big powerful stud and that you can snow me with one little blow job. Ha! A woman can outlast any man, can go longer, harder, can wear any man down to mush. I'm going to teach you, Mr. Jones. I'm going to teach you good."
She removed her brassiere and then put on a light, gauzy summer dress. She was completely naked beneath it and felt wonderful. Her anger suffused her veins with a kind of righteous fire. She put on her high heels, picked up her purse, and started for the door. As her hand closed on the knob, she turned back to her sleeping husband.
"You're going to be sorry you ever started this," she told him. "I'm going to make love to whoever I please ... and I'm going to start with your good friend, your new investment counselor, Art Harris!"
With that, she stormed out of the compartment and started to head for the Harris' door. As she did, she got a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Harris as they exited the car at the other end, moving toward the dining car. She hadn't really considered how she was going to get the man alone, but now a plan was forming in her mind. She followed the couple to the dining car, remaining back out of sight as they took a table. She took a piece of paper out of her purse and scribbled a note to Art on it, saying that there was an emergency and he was needed back at his compartment at once.
She left the note unsigned and stopped a waiter, giving him the folded piece of paper and telling him to hand it to the silver-haired gentleman in exactly five minutes. She gave the man a big tip and he promised to do just as she said.
Brenda walked back to the Harris' compartment, her whole body tingling at the wicked, wicked thought of what she was about to do. She'd never seduced a man before ... not even Bob ... and now she was going to do it all with poor dumb Bob sleeping next door, only inches away from all the action. When she thought about Art Harris, about what he was going to be like, she got a powerful surge of excitement between her legs. He was older, wiser, more experienced than Bob, and looked so debonair, so distinguished. She knew that he was going to be all the things that Bob wasn't, romantic, tender, considerate, and she was determined to make the most out of the fleeting moments they would have together.
She found a porter who didn't know her and told him that she was locked out of her compartment. She gave the short, husky black man a big smile and he didn't ask any questions. He just opened the Harris' compartment for her and smiled back. She slipped inside and shut the door, then kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress up over her head. Completely naked, she lay back on the rumpled bed and waited.
Art Harris didn't know what to think when the waiter handed him the note. He read it twice and then just stared at it.
"Is something wrong?" Gwen asked him over the top of her menu.
"No, nothing," he said. "I've got to go back to the compartment. There's been some kind of mix-up or something. You go ahead and order. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Art walked briskly back to his pullman car, wondering what the heck was so important. He fitted his key to the door lock, and as he did, someone called to him from inside. It was a woman's voice, low and sultry. "It's open," she said.
He got a sudden chill up his spine, like electricity crawling up his backbone and in under his scalp. Automatically, he glanced back down the hallway in the direction of the dining car to see if Gwen was following him. The corridor was empty, so he opened the door and entered.
"Hi, there," Brenda said. She was all stretched out on her back on the rumpled lower berth and didn't have a stitch of clothing on.
Art blinked in amazement. Not in his wildest dreams had he expected to find such a treat waiting for him. The loveliness of the naked brunette stunned him. Her skin was creamy smooth, like satin, and she had the kind of firm young body that made his mouth go dry. Her sleek, sloping breasts sat up high on her chest, and even though there was no brassiere to support them, to push them together, she still had a deep, inviting cleavage. The peaks of her breasts were capped with small, soft pink nipples, tiny buds that practically begged to be sucked and nibbled upon. Brenda was quite slender. Under her svelte skin, the bones of her rib cage could be seen. Her belly had a slight swelling to it just beneath the deep navel. Her hips were round and pleasingly slim, and between her long legs, thatching the protuberant mound of her pussy, was a thick tuft of brown hair.
"You'd better shut the door," she said, smiling at him. "There's a draft."
Art didn't move. He just kept on leering at her naked cunt.
"I said close the door," she repeated, shifting her silky thighs together impatiently.
He turned and pulled the door closed, then turned back to stare some more. He felt his own libido rising as he saw the voluptuous nakedness of her beautiful body beginning to come alive in anxious anticipation.
"You sent the note?" he said, his voice choked with emotion.
She laughed. "Uh-huh," she said.
"You said something about an emergency?"
Her eyes glittered. "Yes, Mr. Harris," she said, "there is an emergency. Can you guess where it is?"
He swallowed hard as he watched her scissor her thighs together some more. He could guess, all right.
"Why don't you come a little closer?" she said, her heart thudding violently as her excitement grew.
"Uh, Brenda," he said, holding up his hand, "what about your husband. What about Bob."
"What about him?"
"Well, I like him," Art said, his eyes darting from breasts to pussy and back again. "So?"
"I wouldn't want to hurt him."
"Do you want to hurt me."
"Uhh, no, of course not."
"Then come over here, lover," she said, turning the last word into a breathy sigh. He was very glad that he hadn't succeeded. She was as beautiful as Miss America and it was plain that she loved to fuck. She was a dream come true.
He moved quickly to the side of the bed and leaned over her, gazing down at the crinkly swelling tips of her nipples, at her deliciously curvaceous breasts, and down lower, down along the almost girlish curve of her body to the silky brown fleece of her pubic vee and the already moistened, slightly quivering lips of her pussy there between her artlessly splayed thighs.
He started to bend lower, to kiss her on the mouth, to climb into bed with her, but she put her warm hand to his chest and stopped him. Her eyes were burning with passion. "NO, LOVER," she cooed to him, "STRIP DOWN FIRST. I WANT TO FEEL ALL OF YOU NAKED AGAINST ME."
If she'd asked him to stand on his head and whistle "Dixie" he would've done it, gladly. He started to undress, removing his suit jacket, then his tie, then stripping off his shirt. There was no thought in his mind about neatness. He flung his clothes left and right and moved quickly to unfasten his belt. He could feel her eyes on his well-muscled chest, on the tufts of silver gray hair that sprouted around his dark nipples as he dropped his pants down and stepped out of them. The bulge in the front of his jockey shorts was tremendous. It ran from the center of his crotch all the way around his hip.
"OOOOH, DARLING!" Brenda cooed delightedly, staring right at his monstrous erection. She shocked herself by the unmistakable eagerness she felt, by her wicked curiosity as to the size and shape and color of his penis. "DARLING, COME CLOSER!"
Art kicked off his shoes, then peeled down his underwear. As he did so, the lust-swollen length of his erect penis jerked up, bobbing obscenely from his salt and pepper pubic bush.
"MMMMMMMM ... NICE," she sighed, shivering as she extended one hand to lovingly caress the long, thick flesh of his manly penis. It throbbed under her gentle, loving touch and swelled into full, jutting erection, every vein, every tendon bulging out against the smooth, pink-skinned outer sheath.
She touched it cautiously with her other hand, extending her slim arm across the tips of her full, tantalizing breasts. Then she had both hands wrapped tight about the thick, turgid pole of his cock and she was stroking it hungrily, working the thick, fleshy skin back and forth between her palms as his penis pulsed and throbbed excitedly. There was no thought in her mind about anything but what she was doing, what she was feeling.
"YEEEAAAHHH, YOU DO THAT SO GOOD!" Art groaned, his eyelids narrowing to mere slits as the warm waves of pleasure rippled up his aroused man meat, as he watched her playing greedily with the long, lewd staff of his penis.
Brenda could feel her breathing getting heavier, her face becoming hotter as she toyed with the rigid cock. She felt so sexy that she could hardly stand it.
Her legs parted a little more and Art could easily see in the bright room light the beaded moistness that rimmed the tender pink lips of her vagina. When her legs opened wider, the tempting folds of her tight pussy seemed to flower into eager openness. He knew that she wanted him, wanted him for real, wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
He climbed onto the bed beside her and reached a gentle hand down to the voluptuous swell of her firm buttocks. Her skin was so smooth that it made his palm ache with longing, made his penis jerk and flex anxiously. All thoughts of his wife waiting patiently for him back in the dining car vanished as he cupped Brenda's sweet, succulent ass-cheeks in his hand.
She trembled against him, her eyes closing, her tautened nipples grazing his bare chest as her lips eagerly sought his. Art kissed her hard and hot and she responded with a soft, whimpering moan. She opened her mouth wide and jammed her wet, wiggling tongue between his teeth, surging it over his tongue, stabbing it down his throat.
Her hand shook with the frenzied excitement coursing through her body as she reached down between their bellies and firmly grasped the one thing she needed more than anything ... his big, thick cock.
Art moaned from the wantonly exquisite pressure of her fingers around the thick, blood-engorged length of his cock and he kissed her arousedly, answering her fervent soul-kiss with one of his own. He felt strangely excited, even dizzied, and knew that it wasn't just the kissing that was doing it to him ... it was the greedy, pumping caress of her hand on his hot penis.
Suddenly, he knew just how badly he needed her, how much he liked her husband; it didn't matter that he loved his own wife. He clutched her buttocks tighter, digging his fingers into the softly resilient flesh, and he knew that whatever the cost, it was going to be worth it.
The naked brunette eagerly squirmed her supple body against his, wiggling her smooth pelvis against his, and he could feel the awesome heat of her passion-riddled loins sweeping over his naked scrotum.
Her thighs parted still further as she lay on her side facing him, and his cock shot up between them as if it had its own salacious variety of radar. It eagerly searched for the warm, moist slit of her pussy that lay nestled between those silky, trembling thighs. Her arms went around him and she gripped him frantically, breathing in short, shallow gasps as her nails dug into his naked back. Her thighs opened shamelessly wide and she closed them around his hips as he rolled effortlessly onto her smooth belly.
"LOVER! LOVER, YOU'RE SO BIG AND HARD, SO BEAUTIFUL!" she moaned up at him deliriously. She made no effort to keep her voice down, and the idea that Bob might overhear her passionate pleading gave her a sudden surge of wicked excitement. "OOOHHH, I CAN'T
STAND IT ANY LONGER! I'VE GOT TO HAVE IT. I'VE GOT TO FEEL IT INSIDE OF ME! FUCK ME, LOVER! FUCK ME WITH YOUR BIG COCK!"
The intensity of her pleas made chills rush up Art's spine. She was going to go crazy if he didn't fuck her, if he didn't quench her seething hunger with the milky fluid of his thick cum.
Her soft hands seemed to be everywhere at once, hotly searching his hard, muscled nakedness, exploring his body. She touched him all over, feeling the ridges of his muscles, brushing over the hairy patches of his legs and chest, the epaulettes of silvery hair on his shoulders, anxiously squeezing the firm, sinewy cheeks of his buttocks. His cock probed deeply between her slender thighs, the bulbous, pulsing head pressing incitingly against the puckered moist lips of her sex.
She squirmed fervently under his weight, wantonly thrusting her hand between their bellies to spread apart the pliant pink folds of her pussy, to give him total access to her hot and sticky slit.
"HURRY, LOVER! PLEASE! I CAN'T WAIT!! I'VE GOT TO HAVE YOUR COCK!! " she whined, kissing him again and again, licking at his lips and his nose in her growing frenzy of feminine arousal.
He squeezed the soft fleshiness of her firm breasts, rubbing his palm over the crinkly hard peaks of her nipples until her thighs opened wider still, until her loins wiggled upward, until she had the bloated head of his penis luridly between the wetly splayed lips of her vagina. ' upward, until she had the bloated head of his penis luridly between the wetly splayed lips of her vagina.
"OH!! " Art gasped, his whole body trembling from the tickling fingers of a hundred curly soft pubic hairs teasing around his swollen cockhead. The heat of her passion-fevered pussy raged over his bulb, making his testicles glow with a delicious tingling sensation.
Brenda moaned throatily. She could stand the tension no longer. She opened her legs so wide that the outsides of her knees actually touched the surface of the bed, then locked her ankles around his hips, pounding on his bare buttocks with her bare feet.
"NOW! NOW, PLEEEEEASE!" she bawled, her lips trembling, her eyelids fluttering as if she were about to pass out from the steam heat of her own frantic lust.
Art stared down at her feverishly flushed face. She was on the verge of orgasm and he hadn't even started to fuck her yet! The knowledge that he had done this had so aroused this luscious young piece of ass that it made his chest swell with pride. He wanted nothing more than to sink his hugely throbbing penis between her wide-parted thighs and fuck the living hell out of her, but she was too fast for him and far too eager; she wanted it even more than he did. She grabbed for his jutting, blood-pulsing cock and, with a squeal of anxious pleasure, worked it between the pliant sticky folds of her ravenous pussy, pushing the bulbous head of his cock through the fleecy brown softness of her pubic curls and into the tight, hot, clasping grip of her seething cunt.
"UHHHH!! UHHHHH, IT'S GOING IN! OH, LOVER!! LOVER, IT'S HUGE!! IT'S TEARING ME!! PUSH! PUSH IT IN!! RAM IT IN!! " she wailed, her eyes open, but glazed with passion as she looked up at him.
Art let out a deep grunt of pleasure as he lunged, as he entered her with a single, hard-driving stroke, a hugely powerful lunge that sank his cock into her upturned pussy with an ease that surprised and delighted him. He plowed into her delicious tight wetness like a fist pounding into soft, sweet butter.
"OOOOOH!! OOOOOOOH, LOVER!! ! " she mewled, gasping up at him, her eyeballs bulging as the taut, rubbery grip of her vagina pulled him wantonly into the searing, liquid depths of her trembling belly.
Art winced at the powerful, crushing grip of her madly convulsing cunt. The walls closed hotly around the thrusting shaft of his hardened penis like a warm, moist fist. He closed his eyes and savored the exquisite narrowness of her young pussy. He loved his wife, loved her dearly, but her cunt had never, ever been like this!!
Deep into her very insides, his lust-hardened cock probed rapaciously. Her tightness was so extreme that it felt like he was being skinned alive. His discomfort quickly subsided in the gushing flood of her pussy juices, a veritable torrent of warm, moist lubrication that oozed around the thick, pistoning length of his cock, and made his total entry into her an effortless delight. Aside from the quantity of her pussy juice, which was remarkable in itself, there was also the quality of it ... which was truly amazing. Art had never felt anything like it before. It was heavy and slick, like 30-weight oil, and pungently scented with womanly musk. It not only smeared all over the long, thick length of his penis, but over his pubic hair as well, over his testicles and thighs until everything between his legs was drenched in its slithery, slippery moisture.
Beside himself with hunger, Art began fucking her with every inch of his hard, manly cock, her nakedness beneath him mewling and writhing with the frenzied, half-panicked passions of a young virgin getting it for the first time.
She gurgled and grunted with every thrust of his long, stiff penis. Her smooth buttocks were upturned beneath his weight and he could see the rippling after-shocks of his deep-thrusting fucking as her skin shivered with the strength of his brutal lunges.
He was hurting her a little, that he was sure of, hurting her and making her love it at the same time. Art enjoyed what he was doing to her no end. He reveled in his ability to bring sweet rapturous pain to this beauty contest brunette, to turn her into softly quivering jelly in his strong arms.
The heat of her tightly squeezing pussy was baking his cock and he could feel the ridges and valleys of her cuntal walls slipping down over the jutting tip of his scorching cockhead. He drove into her harder, bashing his sticky groin against her, bashing his slippery balls into her firm buttocks. She snapped her bottom up from the bed, meeting his animal lunges with surprising vigor, grunting and moaning like a bitch in heat, squirming like a thing possessed of the devil.
Brenda felt like a thing possessed, too. Every square inch of her lithe young body was suffused with rapacious lust, a savage hunter. She wanted to be consumed, enveloped, flooded with scalding love juice from this distinguished stranger, to be made to shriek out her joy as her pussy fluttered around his thick, fleshy lance.
The two of them hunched and humped on the bed like a pair of minks caught up in the fury of their semi-annual mating frenzy, their bodies locked together by the unquenchable thirst for forbidden, adulterous sensation.
Art grinned down at her lust-contorted face, still beautiful despite the agonized grimace of rising desire that twisted her pretty features. She was on the verge of her screaming, back-scratching orgasm. His virile, muscular body was soaked with sweat, tiny rivulets of perspiration dripping from the hollows and crevices of his legs and torso and oozing onto the silky expanse of the young woman's softly quivering flesh.
He pumped up and down like a madman, a deep-thrusting rhythm of long, hard strokes, every one boring into her to the hilt, pushing hard into the tight, moist grip of her cunt until his balls ground lewdly between her firm buttocks, until his groin ground salaciously against the soft pink flesh of her gaping, moisture-beaded pussy.
He could feel her starting to let go, feel her supple young body beginning to stiffen, every muscle, every sinew caught up in the wildly pleasurable ascent to oblivion.
She gripped him painfully tight with the insides of her thighs, opening and closing them scissor-like as she matched his pile driving cock thrusts ounce for ounce with the up-thrusting, ravenous flesh of her inflamed pussy. She ground hotly against his hard, muscular virility, her moans degenerating into a hoarse, muffled gasp as she fought to bite back the piercing shriek of ecstasy welling up in her throat.
"OH!! OHHHH!! " she gasped, her eyes suddenly popping wide open as if a thousand volts of electricity had been shot through her sputtering, juicy cunt.
She gulped down the scream that hammered in her throat and Art leered sadistically at her suddenly deeply flushed cheeks. He knew what that rosy red color meant. He grabbed a quick breath, then stepped up his powerful, lust-stirring lunges. His cock was pumping in and out of her flowered open pussylips so quickly that the sides of his shaft seemed to heat up from the intense friction.
"LOVER! LOVER!! ! " she squealed, clutching frantically at his back, locking her legs tight about his waist. "LOVER, I'M CUMMING! CUMMMMMMING!! ! "
She jerked her knees up until they were practically buried in his armpits, mewling, moaning hysterically as joy exploded between her thighs, as her pussy contracted savagely about the thrusting pole of his thick, fleshy penis. She shook convulsively, gasping, choking for air, and every single spasm of her naked, sweat-soaked body sucked another deep thrust from his still hard cock.
Art slowed his merciless pace, sensing that his ardent little lover would be yelling her lungs out if he didn't. She shook and shuddered in the vibrant aftermath of her orgasm, her legs still locked tight about his waist, her pussy still squeezing, milking, teasing the hugely throbbing length of his massive cock.
"OOOOOH, LOVER! LOVER, HOW DO YOU DO IT?! ! ! " she moaned. "I'M A LUMP OF JELLY AND YOU'RE STILL HARD AS A ROCK!! "
Art grinned down at her despite himself. He always enjoyed a compliment about his sexual performance ... and this hot little brunette was making him feel like a prime stud. He gave his spirited rod a playful flex and then groaned at her instantaneous response, at the way her belly tightened about the deeply buried thickness of his skewering erection.
"UHHHH!! OHHHH!! ! " she moaned deliriously, rubbing the tautening peaks of her firm breasts against his sweaty, hairy chest.
He levered himself upward, pulling his stiffened rigidity from her seething, fluttering pussy. His lust-thickened penis jerked up, gleaming with juice, rubbed a furious red from the prolonged friction with her cuntal walls, jutting from his hair-matted loins like a lewd spear.
"AAAAGGGHHH!" Brenda gasped, peering at the monstrous rod, at the white, sticky seepage oozing from its bloated head. "IT'S EVEN BIGGER THAN BEFORE!! "
He swung his weight off of her and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting his legs dangle down. His penis arched up from his loins like an obscene red banana, every blue vein bulging with lust-heated blood. His cock ached, but it ached wonderfully.
She crawled off the bed and slipped to her knees between his legs, leering up at the thick, fleshy rod of his cock and the sperm-bloated orbs of his testicles in their ruddy, hair-fringed sack.
"OOOOH, LOVER, I WANT IT!" she crooned to him, putting her hands on his knees, gently pushing his thighs wider apart.
It was only then that Art realized what she wanted to do to him. The young wife wanted to suck his juice-smeared cock! She was going to give him a blow job!
The naked brunette eyed the steely hard erection that stood up between his muscular thighs like a third leg. Her fingers began to caress it lovingly, like it was some priceless treasure. She stroked it anxiously, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she stared at the tiny slit in the bulbous, blood-engorged head. She got a secret, tingling thrill as she thought about Bob, as she realized that this was exactly what some strange woman had done to him the night before. Talk about turnabout! She worked the slippery, thick, fleshy foreskin back and forth, groaning with animalish excitement as she saw the heavy bluish veins throb and pulse with fresh excitement.
She stroked it and fondled it lovingly until her own pungently-scented juices were smeared over her hand, oozing out between her tightly-clutching fingers, until Art moaned with the growing pressure of the sperm building up in his pendulous testicles.
Unable to stop himself, he began to move his hips, his buttocks rising up off the edge of the table as he worked his hair-matted loins back and forth, working them in time to her eager pulls on the hard, pulsing length of his erection. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once ... along the stiffened thickness of his cock, cradling the swollen, sensitive balls, tenderly caressing the, leathery sac of his scrotum, the wisp coarse hairs tickling her palm.
Then, with a giggle of delight, she pushed her head down between his parted thighs and salaciously licked at the bulbous, purplish head of his cock with her small, pink tongue, swirling it over the glistening, smooth dome.
Art winced and shivered as his cock flexed ominously, pulsing right into her lovely face, its surface moistened now with the combined wetness of her viscous pussy lubricant and the warm saliva of her mouth.
"More?" she asked, her eyes bright, feverish with passion.
He nodded.
She grinned at him impishly. "SAY IT THEN," she said, teasingly lapping at the rumpled little bunch of skin just beneath his oozing slit, at the drapery of his nerve bundle.
He swallowed hard. Then the words erupted from his throat in a torrent, "SUCK ME! SUCK MY COCK! DAMMIT, HURRY! HURRY BEFORE I SHOOT OFF IN YOUR FUCKING FACE!! " he snarled. The obscenities had a startling effect on the gorgeous young brunette. Her cheeks flushed deeply, then she moaned in ecstasy. She drove the huge bulb between her parted lips, working her Ovalled mouth down along the turgid pole of his penis, drawing her throat down over his jutting cock like a tight condom. The warmth of her clasping lips and tongue enclosed his cock in a fervent pressure of arousal that made him shudder again and again with exquisite rippling shock waves of seething desire. Her wet tongue swirled heatedly over the underside of his erection, lashing back and forth, back and forth as her cheeks hollowed, as she commenced to suck frenziedly on his bulging, lust-swollen rod.
Earl groaned anxiously and reached out for her, grabbing hold of the back of her head and simultaneously pulling her face toward him as he nudged his hips forward. He ruthlessly shoved his big cock down her tight throat, half-expecting her to gag and choke on the inhuman mouthful, but to his delight she took it all ... greedily.
Brenda sucked all that thick, hot meat down like she wanted to eat him alive. Using her fingertips, she guided the long staff right down her throat, stuffing, cramming it between her obscenely ovalled lips. She only stopped when there was no more cock to be had, when her lovely lips were pressed tight against his hairy groin, when his hugely throbbing cock was embedded totally in her convulsing throat.
Art grunted as the encasing wet warmth of her mouth closed tightly about his cock, like a warm fist drenched in butter. When Brenda did something, she did it all out, no holds barred. He looked down at her delicious nakedness, at her firm, up-thrusting breasts bobbing and jiggling as she worked frantically between his widely splayed thighs, trying frantically to bring him off. The in-sides of his legs rubbed incitefully over the sides of her head as her mouth worked hungrily up and down the full, hardened length of his cock. He could see it all happening. He could see the soft pinkness of his erect penis, gliding up and down, painting the fleshy shaft with shining slobber.
She rubbed the swollen sperm-laden orbs of his testicles with her opened palms, kneading them, urging them to give up their hot and gummy load. He could feel their weight throbbing anxiously as they rested in the palms of her hands. They were bloated horribly ... painfully ... and he knew that soon they would be throbbing hard, pumping their hot and sticky load right down her Miss America throat!
He pushed hard into the ovaled softness of her mouth and gasped in astonishment as she began to nurse even more frenziedly at his long cock. She was letting him fuck in and out of her throat and sucking at every inch of it as it slid back and forth between her gaping lips! She took it without choking, without coughing, the muscles of her throat constricting deliciously about the thickness of his erection. She breathed wheezingly through her flared nostrils, her lips ovaled to the splitting point about his cock, her fingers toying with, milking at his tender scrotum.
No man on earth could've held out against that kind of sweet cocksucking pleasure for long. In fact, many men would've shot off in their pants just watching that big, thick cock of his screwing in and out between her lovely lips, those massive hairy balls of his grinding against her sweet chin.
Art's head went back and he let out a short, guttural grunt of ecstasy. Then his fingers were clutching hard at the back of her head, ripping at her silky hair in his excess of enthusiasm and his hips were jerking forward and back, forcing his penis to fuck madly in and out of her throat as joy burst over his loins, as his pelvis shuddered like a tree in a strong wind, as his balls flexed and throbbed with wild ecstasy. Cum was gushing up the inside of his hard-jerking penis, forced up and out by the violent spasms that racked his loins.
The first molten spurt raged into Brenda's mouth, gushing over the back of her tongue and into her throat. She whimpered at the stark, salty taste, at the gooey consistency, but she gulped it all down and squeezed his balls for more, milking them greedily between her fingers.
"OOOOWWEEEE!" Art groaned, his hips flipping, driving his semen-spewing cock in and out of her pursed lips, teasing his orgasm on and on.
All that hot, hard meat was flying into her face and it was fountaining in her throat and in her mouth. She was staggered by the sheer volume of his charge. It was like he'd been saving it up for months just for an occasion like this. She gulped and swallowed, bolting the viscous rich fluid down as fast as she could, fighting to keep ahead of the next spurt, the next choking rush, but there always seemed to be more of it jetting into her mouth. Her jaws ached and so did her throat, not just from the hurtful presence of his huge penis, but from the repeated, frantic swallowing.
Oblivious to her discomfort, the silver-haired man humped on, trapping her flushed face between his hands and fucking into her mercilessly.
Brenda whimpered, Brenda whined, Brenda prayed that the endless spurting, the endless bucking and jerking between her pain-parted lips would stop. She could feel the hot, sticky load he'd already sent shooting into her sloshing about thickly in her belly, distending it. Her whole head reeled from the cloying odor of his pungent sperm, from the acrid flavor. She wanted him to stop orgasming or she thought she would have to scream!
Just then, just as she began to sob, as her gulping and swallowing broke rhythm, as a huge gush of cum backed up in her mouth and oozed out from between her lips and the slogging sides of his shaft, as it poured down over her chin, dribbling over her throat, as she choked, sputtered, her face contorted in a tearful grimace of pain and disgust, she happened to glance over at the compartment door.
It was open! Open just a crack and someone was looking in at them!
"MUHHLLLLPP!! " she gurgled helplessly.
Art thought she wanted more cock and shoved every inch of what he had to her, bashing his bristling root against her ovaled lips, sliding it all in and out with a rolling, gyrating motion of his hips.
Brenda swallowed a hurtfully enormous gulp of semen down, the tears rushing from her eyes, trickling down over her flushed cheeks. She could do nothing to warn him, to stop him. She was skewered on his long cock, forced to suck and swallow, suck and swallow over and over again to keep from strangling. Suddenly, she realized that things weren't working out as she'd thought. She was feeling no sense of triumph, no sense of accomplishment as she gulped down the spurting fluid. She felt used, horribly, callously used. And the fact that she was putting on a show for someone in the corridor only made her feel worse.
The compartment door swung open a bit wider just before it was pushed closed. At that instant, Brenda got a look at the figure in the hall. It was a middle-aged woman with a severely coiffed hairdo. It was Mrs. Harris! It didn't matter how long the woman had been standing there, whether or not she'd seen her husband fucking Brenda's pussy. What he was doing right then, orgasming into her open mouth, was quite sufficient to give her a good idea of what had been going on while she waited in the dining car. The look on Mrs. Harris' face made Brenda's blood run cold. It was a look of pure hate, a look that said she was mad enough to kill.
When the door latch clicked shut, the sound froze Art. He jerked around, peering over his shoulder.
"WhatWhat was that!! " he said.
Brenda took advantage of his distraction to remove the still oozing organ from her lips. As she did so, a gush of warm, slippery sperm rushed over the corner of her mouth and then dripped from her lower lip, hanging in long, yo-yoing strands from the point of her chin.
"What was that?! " he repeated, looking down at her.
"Nothing," she said, closing her eyes and slumping back. Her stomach felt so bloated, so filled with rich cum that it was about to explode. Never in her life had she ever felt so utterly used, violated. The whole length of her throat was raw and aching from the lengthy oral sex and her little pussy hung wide open, pink lips gaping like the petals of an overblown rose, quivering slightly as she breathed.
"It sounded like the door," he said, jumping up from the bed and walking over toward it. He opened the door a little and stuck his head out into the hall. Seeing no one, he pulled his head back and shut the door. "No one out there, but I damn well should've locked it."
Brenda couldn't bring herself to tell him that they'd been observed by his wife, that she'd seen him ejaculating into her mouth. It was all too, too horrible, too humiliating.
Art leered down at her nakedly splayed pussy and said, "Now, where were we?"
She took that as a cue to get the heck out of there. Before he could stop her, she grabbed up her dress and slipped it on, then got into her high heels and started for the door.
"Hey!" he protested, reaching out to grab her by the arm.
She tried to fend him off, but he pulled her up close to him, mashing her unharnessed breasts against his naked chest, mashing the hot, sticky length of his still-erect penis against the inside of her thigh.
"There's plenty more where that came from," he said, sliding his hands down to cup her lush I buttocks.
"I've got to go," she said, twisting away from him. "I've got to go before Bob wakes up and misses me."
Art frowned. "I'm going to miss you more than he ever will, I'll tell you that," he said.
She gave him a little smile. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I have to leave." Then, as an afterthought, she said, "Thanks."
"Glad to oblige," he said, grinning at her. "Any time you feel like some more, you just leave me another note, all right?"
Brenda nodded, her hand on the door knob. She had no intention of every having anything more to do with Art Harris again. She couldn't bear the thought of perhaps being forced to endure what she just had another time. Gulping down all that rank sperm! It made her feel sick just to think about it!
"Give my best to Bob," Art said, as she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
She didn't smile at that. It was a nasty thing for him to say, a cutting thing. It underscored the fact that he had cuckolded Bob, that he had stolen his most precious possession. Brenda shut the door, her lower lip trembling, tears brimming in her eyes. Art Harris might have stolen Bob's most precious possession, but she, his new wife, had carelessly, childishly flaunted it, practically begged for him to have it. A smothering sense of shame engulfed her and she couldn't just stand there in the corridor and weep. She rushed into the ladies room and locked herself in. There, alone, she sobbed into yards and yards of toilet tissue, crying for Bob, for herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Where did you go to so early?" Bob asked when Brenda returned to their compartment a bit later. He was dressed in his blue terry cloth robe, sitting on the edge of his berth.
"Early?" she said, scowling at him. "I waited until after nine and I couldn't wake you so I went out."
Bob's face darkened. He remembered the night before all too well, the booze, the forcible oral rape he'd committed on the maid in the bathroom. He also remembered what had caused him to go out and do such a stupid thing.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" he asked, solemnly.
Brenda started, her eyes wide with surprise. "What?" she said.
"Do you have anything to tell me?" he repeated tiredly. He was hoping that they could get the thing out in the open and then bury it once and for all.
"No," she said, sharply, "why, should I?"
"I don't know, should you?"
Brenda turned her back to him and patted at her hair, primping it in the reflection of the mirror.
Bob looked up at her, at her body, grimacing as he did so. With the light coming through her gauzy dress from the other side, he could see right through it. He could see that she wasn't wearing any panties or brassiere. He could see the deep crack between her buttocks and the crinkly tips of her nipples. The burning pain stabbed into his gut.
"Why are you dressed like that?" he said, wishing to hell he'd kept his big mouth shut, that he'd let sleeping dogs lie.
"What do you mean 'like that'? " she snapped, turning on him with a cold fury in her eyes. Even as she spoke, she knew that she was over-reacting, responding to the overwhelming sense of guilt she felt at what she'd done both with Art and the conductor, at how she'd sullied both herself and her marriage in a couple of moments of infantile weakness.
"I mean," Bob said, having no choice but to see the thing through once he'd opened the can of worms, "that you aren't wearing any underwear, Brenda, and in that dress anybody who wants to look can see everything you've got."
"I'm surprise that you noticed," she said.
That wasn't what she meant. Bob knew what she meant, that she was surprised that he cared. He knew he was screwing up something awful, that he was taking entirely the wrong tack with her, antagonizing her instead of making up with her, so he decided to start all over.
"Did you sleep all right?" he asked.
Brenda flinched. She couldn't be sure if he was twisting the knife in, if he was implying that she might have difficulty sleeping with all the guilt she had. She reacted defensively.
"I slept fine," she said. "Just fine."
The coldness of her tone told him that changing the subject hadn't done any good. What he wanted to do was to sweep her up in his arms, to tell her that he still loved her, that he would go on loving her no matter what, but somehow, as he looked at her, at the anger in her eyes, he could not bring himself to make such a gentle, vulnerable admission.
If there was anything standing between the two young people at that moment, it was pride. Neither wanted to give in to the other, to show weakness. They were still so new at marriage, at living together, that each of them thought that eventually one personality would come on top and would dominate the relationship.
Brenda looked at herself in the mirror criticall She didn't look any different to herself for having cheated on Bob, but she sure felt a lot different. She felt like she'd been through the wringer a couple of times. She kept thinking about Mrs. Harris, about the look on her face when she caught her and Art hard at it; she kept wondering if she had caught Bob with that other the woman the night before if she'd have been so indignant, so furious. Her own thudding heart gave her the answer: yes! Yes, and she wouldn't have closed the door and slipped away, leaving them to finish whatever it was they'd started, either. She would've leaped right in there and torn them apart. She would've scratched the little whore's eyes out!
"Brenda, are you all right?" Bob asked with concern. She glared at herself in the mirror with such hate in her eyes that it alarmed him. "Brenda?"
She turned and looked through him. "Everything's just fine," she said, flatly.
Bob couldn't take it anymore, pride or no pride. "Damned, baby!" he groaned. "What the hell is happening to us?! We're just falling apart!"
She focused on him, eyeing him curiously, as if he were some kind of insect.
"I know things have been rough for the last day or so," he went on, stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out, "but we've got to hang together. We've just got to. All of this is going to be over in a couple of days and we'll be back in L.A. and we can start really living our life."
Brenda shuddered. If the honeymoon was any example of how their life was going to be, she didn't want any part of it. She felt like a steel pin-ball being knocked back and forth by huge invisible flippers. One second she loved Bob with all her heart and was ready to fight to keep him, and the next, she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. She was tired, yes, exhausted by the events of the last day or so, but that was not, could not have been the reason for her total confusion.
"You still do want to live with me, don't you?" he said.
The croak in his voice set her teeth on edge. She wanted to answer "yes," but didn't. She wished that he hadn't felt compelled to ask the question, that he would've been man enough to assume, to expect it from her. She had to laugh inwardly at that, bitterly at that. Maybe he had assumed things about her, maybe he had expected things from her ... up until the moment when he realized she'd made love to the conductor the minute his back was turned!
"Hell, Brenda! Answer me!" he moaned.
"I'm not sure," she said, telling the truth.
Bob frowned, the burning pain billowing up over his chest. He was losing her! He could feel her slipping away! If there'd been any way to strike out, to physically change things, he would have done it in that instant. He would've kicked down doors, punched through walls, beaten a dozen men senseless with his bare hands. The truly horrible thing was that as big as he was, and powerful, he was helpless to hold her.
"Brenda, I love you so much," he said, choking with emotion.
She was shocked at the real, honest feelings in his voice. That he could still love her after what she'd done, that he could take her back only made her feelings of guilt and self-loathing deeper. For a second, she wanted to hurt herself, to hurt him even more, to really show him the kind of sweet young girl he'd married, to tell him that she'd just gotten through fucking and sucking Art Harris, that she'd eaten his spewing cum until she thought her sides would split. But looking at him, at the pain in his face, she could not do it.
"Brenda, I need you," he said, slipping off the edge of the berth and moving toward her.
She didn't move away when he slipped his arms about her narrow waist, when he hugged her back tight to his chest, her buttocks to his loins. She wanted to be crushed by him, to be protected and punished at the same time. She reached up and touched his face tenderly.
Bob buried his face in the soft, smooth nape of her neck and slid his right hand up from her waist, up over the ripely swelling mound of her breast. He firmly squeezed her breast, holding her soft nipple trapped between his thumb and forefinger while he kissed her neck passionately.
She winced at his touch, at the flicker of feeling that shot from her nipple to her crotch, to her already fucked, already orgasmed cunt. The sensation was so overpowering that she almost fainted in his arms.
"BOB!" she moaned, shaking her head, trying to pry his massaging fingers from her breast. "BOB, NO!"
Bob wanted to make love to her in the worst way. Not just because he needed the physical release of an ejaculation, but because he needed the sense of union, of togetherness that only the ultimate sexual act could provide. He wanted to fuck her and make her cum, and that way heal up the wounds between them.
"BABY, PLEASE," he gasped into her neck, his free hand fumbling with the hem of her dress, pushing it up over the backs of her thighs, up over the naked cheeks of her ass, bunching it up around her waist and pulling her hard against him.
"OOOHHHHH!" she groaned as she felt something long, thick and hot nudge between her buttocks. His cock! His hard cock!
"I NEED YOU, BABY," he panted, grinding his hips, grinding the head of his lust-thickened penis into her asscrack. "I REALLY NEED YOU."
Suddenly it was no longer a question of whether or not Brenda wanted to fuck him. More than that she didn't want him to get close to her flowered open pussy. If he felt it with his fingers, he would know that she'd just fucked someone else. If he pushed his big cock into it, he would know from the way it was stretched, the way it easily sheathed his massive member, that she'd cheated on him again. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting him like that.
"NO!! " she cried, clawing at the back of his hand with her nails, kicking with her heels.
Bob held her tighter, refusing to give her up, refusing to admit defeat. "PLEASE, IT'LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE," he moaned into her neck, his hips lewdly thrusting, the rubbery head of his hot penis ramming hard against the smooth band of skin that separated her cunt and anus. "COME ON, BRENDA, LET'S FUCK. LET'S FUCK LIKE WE DID AT THE CAPE."
She stiffened at that. She didn't want to fuck like at the Cape. She didn't want to fuck at all, not with him! He disgusted her, he infuriated her. Why did he have to ask! Why did he have to whine!!
"BEND OVER A LITTLE AND I CAN SLIP IT UP YOU FROM BEHIND," he said.
She couldn't stand it. In a blinding movement, she raised her right foot and stomped it down on his bare toes.
"YOW!! " Bob cried, roughly pushing her away from him, hopping about on his uninjured foot while he cradled the battered one in his hands. The pain was not so bad, but the humiliation was. His own wife had resorted to violence to avoid his caresses. Bob staggered back to the edge of his berth and looked at her helplessly.
"Why?! " he said. "Why did you do that?! ! "
"Because I wasn't interested in what you had to offer," she said. "And you weren't taking 'no' for an answer."
The hurt, the pain, welled up in Bob, and bitter words erupted from his throat. "I suppose what the conductor has is much more interesting," he said.
Brenda just glared at him. Again, he wished that he'd kept his mouth shut, that he'd left the subject of her infidelity buried forever.
When she spoke, her voice was totally without emotion, like a computer's. "Yes, I guess you're probably right," she said. "Much more interesting."
Bob couldn't believe his ears. If what she'd said was the truth?! ! If she really preferred the conductor to him?! ! ! He couldn't just sit there anymore. He wanted to lash out, to rip something, to take out the animal anger coursing through his veins. He wanted to lash out and he didn't dare, so he stripped out of his robe and pulled on his pants.
Brenda watched him dress with a distant, glazed look in her eyes. What she had just done was horrible and she knew it. She was paralyzed with horror.
He pulled on his shirt and shoes and stormed out of the compartment, leaving her standing there like a waxwork dummy.
CHAPTER SIX
Brenda stood there for a full minute without breathing. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but she was frozen. The sound of a soft knock on the compartment door broke her trance. She burst into fresh tears, burying her face in her hands.
The knock came again, and when she did not answer it, the door handle turned and pushed open. Brenda gaped at the uninvited visitor.
"I heard the hubbub right through the walls,"
Mrs. Harris said, shutting the door behind her. "I could tell that you two kids were having a hard time of it. I figured that you might be in need of a little consolation." She raised her right hand and showed Brenda a bottle of Scotch.
The brunette couldn't say a word. She tried, but nothing would come out. Of all the people to come and comfort her! The woman whose husband she had made love to! The woman who had witnessed the adultery.
"I think you'd better sit down, child," Gwen said, putting a motherly arm about her trembling shoulders and helping her over to the edge of the bed.
Brenda sat down and the older woman sat down right beside her, so that their thighs were touching from hip to knee. Brenda did not recoil away from the touch of the other woman's body, partially because she was numbed, partially because the warmth and the softness of Mrs. Harris' skin was soothing to her.
"Men are such animals," Gwen said, bitterly, giving her a hug. "Give them the slightest chance and they're out tomcatting around behind your back."
Brenda jerked her eyes toward Gwen's. She couldn't bear it any longer. "I'm sorrrrry!! ! " she bawled, throwing her face against the woman's ample bosom. "I'm so sorrrrrry!! ! "
"There, there, child," Gwen said, gently patting the weeping girl on the back, holding her breasts out-thrust, letting Brenda rub her face against them to her heart's content. "It's all right."
"No, it's not!! " she cried. "You know it's not!
You saw! You saw Art and me!" Gwen beamed down at her. "Yes, I did," she said softly.
"How can you be so nice to me now?! How can you be?! ! "
"There, there," Gwen said, turning Brenda's lushed, tear-streaked face back into the ripe swell-ng of her breasts. "You hush now."
The brunette buried her face in the older woman's cleavage and wept. Gwen's skin was very smooth and was scented with an expensive French perfume.
"I've known Mr. Harris for a long, long time, child," Gwen said. "I know what he's capable of. You don't know how sorry I am that it happened to you."
Brenda could not let that pass. "B-but I did it!" she sobbed. "I was the one who seduced him! It's all my fault!! "
Gwen shook her head and clucked her tongue. "No, child," she said, "that's the way my Art operates. He always makes the victim feel like the seducer ... that way, he can make an easier exit when the time comes. Believe me, I know it's true. I know he was after you from the first moment he set eyes on you at the airport."
"Men!! " Brenda cried. "They're all animals!! "
"There, there," Gwen said, "you know that some men are better than others. Better at the things that count. I think we should have a little drink. A toast to the men who are better. What do you say?"
Brenda was never much of a drinker, but she nodded anyway, wanting to please the woman.
Gwen poured out a couple of stiff shots into paper cups she'd brought, then handed one to Brenda. "I want you to drink it all down," she said.
Brenda gave the amber-colored fluid a doubtful look.
"You just pretend that it's a very special medicine that's going to make you feel a whole lot better. Now, down the hatch!" Gwen said. And with that, she reached over and took hold of the base of the cup, tipping it up, forcing Brenda to swallow it down or get a Scotch bath.
The brunette gulped it all down in a single swallow, then gasped in horror as the burning fluid stole her breath away.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Gwen said, refilling her cup. "One more like that and you'll be well on the road to recovery."
"No, please, I..." Brenda began to protest, but the woman was already tipping the cup up and more of the liquor was rushing into her mouth. She swallowed again, tears coming to her eyes.
"Not so bad the second time, huh?" Gwen said, carefully sipping at her own drink.
Brenda could not answer until the burning went away.
"It's fine," she lied. "Just fine."
Gwen regarded her strangely, then said, "He didn't hurt you, did he, child?"
Brenda blinked at her.
"Here, have some more Scotch," the older woman said, filling Brenda's cup to the brim. "Drink, drink."
The brunette obeyed without thinking. She was surprised at the easy way the liquor went down this time, almost like water. When she lowered the cup from her lips, it all hit her, all six ounces of straight hard stuff.
"Oh!" she said, shutting her eyes as the room began to spin. It was suddenly stiflingly hot and little beads of perspiration broke out on her face.
"Much better," Gwen said merrily, putting the long-necked bottle down on the floor at her feet. "Feeling good?"
Brenda nodded. It was true. She did feel a lot better, all warm and toasty inside, and kind of giddy.
"Now, child," Gwen said, "I want you to show me where that animal husband of mine hurt you."
Brenda stared at her in disbelief.
"Oh, it's all right," the older woman said. "I'm a registered nurse. I just want to make sure that he didn't do any real harm to you. I couldn't bear the thought. Here, let me help you with your dress."
Brenda didn't want to be undressed by the strange woman, but the booze had muddled her mind and made her fingers numb. She couldn't seem to get coordinated. It didn't bother her very much, though. She felt marvelous. Her whole body was aglow and between her legs, like a snug little bake oven. Her pussy radiated warmth and good cheer.
"My goodness, child!" Gwen said, giggling. "You're getting pie-eyed on me!"
Brenda giggled, too, though she wasn't quite sure why. Her dress was slipping off her shoulders and she was suddenly naked to the waist.
"WHAT PERFECT BREASTS!" Gwen exclaimed, not only looking at the naked mounds, but touching them with her fingers. "Such silky smooth skin!! "
The brunette shuddered at the woman's gentle touch. "No, please, don't," she said thickly.
"Oh, it's all right," Gwen reassured her. "We're all girls here. There's nothing to worry about."
Brenda smiled dreamily. Gwen was right. There was nothing to worry about. She could feel the older woman massaging her breasts with a soothing, knowing touch, working the soft round nipples back and forth against the pads of her thumbs until they stood out all pink and crinkly.
"WONDERFUL LITTLE NIPPLES!" Gwen said, teasing the tautened buds.
A powerful quiver of excitement surged from Brenda's breasts to her loins. It was an unwanted surge. As drunk as she was, the brunette knew that a woman wasn't supposed to make another woman feel things like that.
"OH, PLEASE," she said. "NO MORE."
"Of course, child," Gwen said, admiring the stiff nipples with open lust. "I don't see any bruises here. Let's get the rest of your clothes off."
Brenda felt insistent tugging at the dress around her hips, and before she knew it, she was being shoved on her back on the bed and the dress was being drawn down over her thighs and off her feet.
"NO PANTIES!" Gwen said. "MY, WHAT A WICKED LITTLE GIRL!"
Brenda pushed up on her elbows and tried to focus her eyes on the older woman. It seemed to Brenda that Gwen's face was deeply flushed and that she was breathing with difficulty.
Gwen moved closer, gently putting a hand on the young woman's right knee and pushing, making her splay her thighs wider apart. "That's it," she said, coaxingly, "let Nurse Harris see all of it."
Brenda whimpered and tried to close her legs, but Gwen wouldn't allow it. She sat there with her thighs widely spread while the older woman leered down at the brown fleece of her pussy, at the tender, moist pink lips of her vagina, at the succulent rounds of her jutting buttocks.
Gwen's hand moved down along her silky smooth thigh, moved closer to the protuberant mound of her pussy. Brenda shuddered violently at the tingling thrill that shot up her leg and the older woman paused, hesitating as if unsure how far to go. Then Gwen pulled back and straightened up.
"My, but it's gotten awfully warm in here, hasn't it?" she said, fanning herself with her hand. "I think I might take off a few things just to get more comfortable."
Brenda was stunned to see Mrs. Harris start to disrobe. The woman quickly stripped out of her dress, standing there for a moment in her lavender brassiere and panties, pausing as if to let her admire the ripe curves of her breasts, the swell of her belly, the roundness of her hips. Brenda looked, all right, but she didn't understand, not at all.
"OOOOH, THIS IS NAUGHTY, ISN'T IT?! " Gwen said, undoing the clasp of her brassiere, peeling the tight cups from over the heavy, dark-tipped mounds of her womanly breasts. She then peeled her panties down, exposing, between her slender thighs, a mound that was covered with a dense jungle of shiny black hairs. Hairs that grew from the sides of her pussylips inward, so that at the center of his mound, directly over the slit between her ragged labia, where the two opposing waves of hair met, there was a startling ruff, a veritable Mohawk of soft fur. Her vagina was much darker than the surrounding skin, the wrinkly lips protruding slightly from her crotch. Beneath the tender, moist slit hung the firm, muscular domes of her ass.
"WellWhat do you think?" Gwen said, putting her hands on her hips, spreading her feet wide apart and swinging her shoulders from side to side, making her heavy-tipped breasts sway and jostle provocatively.
Brenda didn't know what to think, or what to do.
"Oh, now, don't you worry," Gwen said, climbing up on the bed beside her. "I told you that there was nothing to worry about, didn't I?"
The brunette nodded, her eyes riveted to the supple, firm globes of Gwen's breasts, to the bushy triangle between her thighs.
Gwen leaned over her, carelessly allowing her bare breasts to brush Brenda's.
"UHHHH," Brenda moaned softly as stiff nipple made deliciously wicked contact with stiff nipple, as the smooth, silky domes slid over each other. The heat billowing up behind her eyes and in her chest was staggering, frightening. She didn't want to feel that way, to feel all hot between her legs at the touch of Gwen's breasts against hers, but she couldn't help it.
"SUCH SMOOTH THIGHS," Gwen cooed, reaching down and putting her hand on the brunette's leg, not five inches from the silky tuft of brown hair, from the pinkly gleaming pussy slit.
Brenda felt like she was suffocating. Urges, urges that she'd never felt before, were suddenly surging through her body. Did she really want to kiss Gwen's long, dark red nipples?! Did she really want the older woman's hand to stray further to the left, to touch her naked cunt?!
Gwen could sense the confusion in the younger girl's mind. It was just what she'd hoped for. Without another word, the ripe-figured woman rolled over on top of the startled Brenda, rolled right between her legs, right onto her saddle, mounting her the way a man would have.
"UUUHHHH, AAAHHHH!" the brunette gasped. It didn't feel like a man! Those lush breasts were nuzzling against hers and she could feel Gwen's pubic bush, the dense fur tickling way up high on her inner thighs. Her face flushed crimson with embarrassment and she tried to push the woman off.
"You like this, don't you?" Gwen said, squirming lasciviously between Brenda's legs, making their breasts rub, scooting her hips forward so that her hairy cunt actually bumped against the younger woman's.
"OH!! " Brenda cried, her whole body jerking violently in Gwen's arms at the intimate contact, at the hot, wet touching of their labia.
"YOU DO LIKE IT! I KNEW YOU WOULD! I JUST KNEW IT!! " Gwen said huskily, her hands slipping down along Brenda's sides, down over her round hips, down to squeeze sensually at the resilient cheeks of her ripe buttocks.
"NO! OH, GWEN, STOP!! PLEEEEEASE!! " Brenda sobbed, utterly stunned by the sudden turn of events. In her attempt to push away from the lewd, lesbian embrace, she accidentally took hold of Gwen's right breast. For a crazy moment, she held that supple, silky globe in her hand, the hot, taut nipple tickling her fingers. It was so marvelous, so sexy, that it hurt her to let go of it. "OH, I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO..." she moaned.
"I LIKED IT, CHILD," Gwen said. "DO IT SOME MORE. PLAY WITH GWEN'S BIG TITS. SQUEEZE THEM ALL YOU WANT."
Brenda squirmed her hips, trying to evade the fingers incitefully kneading her buttocks, slowly creeping deeper and deeper into her tight crack, and her movement only caused her naked vagina to rub teasingly over the sticky mound of Gwen's cunt.
"NOOOO! PLEASE!! ! I JUST CAN'T!! IT'S WRONG!! " she cried, her voice the whine of an exhausted child, her cheeks glowing with arousal.
Gwen paid her no mind. She moved her hands lower, making her fingers crawl over the smooth ass-cheeks, and lower still, until the fingertips found silky fur and much hotter, much softer skin ... the velvet of her pussylips!
"NO!" Brenda gasped, jerking away from the lewd caress.
"Don't make it hard for me, child," Gwen said, gently stroking the moist entrance to her pussy with a fingertip. "Just relax and let it happen."
Brenda shuddered in the woman's arms, unable to fight down the delightful sensation that exploded between her legs.
"Nice, huh?" Gwen said, fondling every inch of her pussy from the top of her slit to the bottom.
The brunette shivered and slipped her arms around the older woman's neck, hugging her tight, making their breasts mash together, nipple to nipple. Whatever Gwen was doing to her, no matter how perverted, it felt so wonderful that it stole her breath away.
"MUCH BETTER," Gwen moaned, teasing the mouth of her vagina with a finger, then sliding it down lower, deeper into the tight crack, rubbing it salaciously over the red hot button of her anus, then back again to poke at the mouth of her sex.
Over and over the fingertip moved the short distance between anus and pussy, teasing, torturing both and fucking into neither one. The sensation was so thrilling that Brenda began to pant and puff. She buried her face in the older woman's neck and wantonly lifted her feet and legs from the bed, tipping her nakedly exposed bottom up, inviting penetration in either orifice.
Gwen grabbed her slim ankles and wrapped her long legs around her waist. The brunette cooed excitedly, squeezing her thighs tight about Gwen's smooth middle, mimicking the man-woman fucking position.
Even as the younger girl writhed arousedly, rubbing her crotch up into the hairy loins of the woman on top of her, Gwen was already sliding her hand down the back of her thigh, sliding it right back onto Brenda's hot pussy. She stopped thrashing as felt smooth, gentle fingers pushing her labia apart, making her pussy flower wide open.
"OH!" she moaned when Gwen took hold of her hand and pulled it between their bellies, forcing it down over the jutting, hairy mound of her cunt. Suddenly, Brenda needed no prompting. She was a woman; she knew just what to do. She cupped the fat, moist cunt in her hand, her fingertips searching among the hot, sticky flaps for the opening to her slit, the heel of her hand rubbing incitefully into the top of Gwen's vagina, into the hard node of her erect clitoris.
"CHILD! YES, CHILD!! " Gwen wailed, her hips churning, grinding her wet pussy flesh over the smooth palm. She gently slid her middle finger up into Brenda's tight pussy.
The brunette whimpered as she felt herself giving way, parting to the insistently probing digit. Then the older woman was toying expertly with her clitoris, making the sparks shoot wildly over her mound.
"OOOHHHH!" Brenda gasped, her back arching suddenly up from the bed as climax surged through her loins.
"HA! YES! CUM! CUM FOR ME!! " Gwen cried, her finger fucking in and out of the wet sheath in a blur, buffeting the oily marble of her clitoris.
Beside herself with ecstasy, Brenda fumbled with the puffy flaps in her hand, peeling the thick, fleshy lips back, putting a finger to the small, flexing hold and shoving. As her finger shot up the slithery moist passage, as her pussy clamped down on the flipping finger that was fucking it, she playfully bit Gwen's earlobe.
"OWWW!" the older woman cried, her hips churning at the feel of the finger slipping up inside of her.
Once she felt pussy wrapped around her finger, Brenda couldn't seem to get enough of it. She diddled the hairy pussy as fast as she could, all the while kissing and licking at Gwen's radiant face.
The silver-haired woman raised her face up out of range, and leered down at the writhing, hunching, fingering girl. "CHILD, I WANT TO EAT YOUR PUSSY," she said, hoarsely.
A shiver rippled right up inside Brenda's pussy, rippling in time to the finger thrusting in and out. The young wife knew that she could not and would not stop the older woman from doing anything, that she wanted it to happen.
Gwen scooted back, dropping to all fours on the bed between Brenda's widely-splayed thighs, and with her round ass stuck up high in the air and her lush, womanly breasts mashed into the covers, she shoved her open mouth down on the swollen, brown-fleeced cunt.
"UHHHHH!! ! " Brenda wailed as hot moist lips swarmed over her pussy, sucking hungrily at the very entrance to her cunt, as slippery tongue squirmed over her tender labia, parting them even wider, delving between them to flick at her hard clitoris.
"NUMMMMMM!! " Gwen moaned, rooting about between Brenda's thighs like a hog at trough, sucking up the fragrant, musky lubricant that oozed from the gaping slit.
Brenda started to move her bottom rhythmically, to fuck up into the madly sucking mouth. Her back arched up from the bed again and again as the tickling radiance washed over her naked cunt. She could see Gwen's hair-sprayed head down there between her thighs and see her long wet tongue lashing among her wet pubic hairs, swirling over the sensitive, angry flesh of her vagina. She could see the long tongue licking up between her labia, sliding against the hot chick pea of her clitoris.
The feeling was too moving, too devastating.
Demons danced in the young wife's veins, danced and demanded more, more!!
"OHHH, PLEASE!" Brenda babbled. "PLEASE LET ME DO IT! I WANT TO DO IT, TOO!! "
Gwen raised her shining lips from the succulent pussy feast. She grinned. It was the moment she'd been waiting for! She quickly turned around on the bed, swinging her leg over the girl's upturned face, holding her seething cunt directly over it.
Brenda couldn't bear it any longer. She reached up and grabbed hold of the jutting buttocks and pulled the older woman's fork down onto her face, kissing at the black pussy hair, nuzzling her nose into the steaming pussy slit.
Gwen sat back, her face flushed with pleasure. She sat back, pinning Brenda's head to the bed with her blazing cunt, then starting to slide her hips forward and back, to incitefully rub her entire hair-fringed gash over the girl's face.
Brenda fell to licking and lapping madly at the pungently scented slit, her fingers prying at the cheeky buttocks, holding them wide apart so she could get at it all. The silky hairs felt marvelous against her lips and tongue and the heat the woman's mound gave off was incredible. Waves of searing warmth laced with the animal musk of hot pussy washed over Brenda's face, drowning her in sexy sensation.
"IN ME!" Gwen cried, shaking her hips, making her fleshy labia part over the girl's mouth. "SLIDE IT IN ME!! "
Brenda could barely hear her over the swish of silky thighs rubbing over her ears, but she heard well enough. The brunette thrust upward with the tip of her tongue, and to her delight, the warm halves of Gwen's cunt came apart like magic and gobbled her wet tool. Her mouth was jammed hard against the flexing cuntal sphincter and her tongue was lashing about deep in the older woman's belly. The feeling of all that wet and ready pussy flesh against her tongue made her whimper and whine with excitement. It was so sexy! So sexy that she could hardly stand it!!
At the feel of tongue darting deep into her belly, of lips nursing on the hair-rimmed mouth of her cunt, the older woman went berserk. She grabbed hold of Brenda's thighs and dropped her face between them, wallowing in her wet crotch, grinding the tip of her nose into her blazing pore and spearing her long tongue up into the slick pussy channel to the root.
Brenda warbled up into the muffling, smothering folds of Gwen's cunt as the older woman began snorting and sniffling into her splayed fork, bobbing her head hard against Brenda's behind, fucking her tongue in and out of the trembling sheath as fast as she could.
As she bobbed her head, Gwen tipped her bottom up a bit, forcing Brenda to raise her head from the bed in order to maintain the cunt to mouth contact. The girl did the best that she could, but the strain on her neck was too great for her to maintain the position for long. When her head dropped back down to the bed, she stared up at the furious, horseshoe-shaped mound of Gwen's pussy. Both her inner and outer labia were puckering from her fork, and between them she could see the much redder, much juicier flesh. It was too sexy! Too sexy! Unable to hold back, Brenda jerked her head up between Gwen's thighs and began kissing the swollen petals, licking the wet hairs, reveling in the sharp, pungent aroma of pussy, in the keen taste of the steadily oozing lubricant.
Gwen was not satisfied with the depth she was getting into the girl's cunt. She slipped her arms and shoulders inside of Brenda's thighs, making the backs of her knees slide up behind her armpits, then she plowed even more furiously between the warm, wet layers of flesh.
Brenda made no protest as Gwen once again dropped her bottom, pinning her head to the bed. She was too busy cumming to protest. Just the feel of Gwen's soft hairs rubbing over her lips, the feel of smooth buttocks against her cheeks, of hard-twitching pussy tugging at her tongue, was more than enough. Shuddering, whinnying, she madly rolled her tongue lasciviously in Gwen's cunt, licking passionately over the wet walls, drinking down the heavy flow of rich juice.
Above her, Gwen suddenly stiffened and her pussy seized up around Brenda's darting tongue. The older woman let out a low moan and then started humping up and down on the brunette's defenseless face, humping out her own feverish orgasm.
The ecstasy was contagious. The more Gwen writhed, the more she hunched, the more excited Brenda got. She was sweeping her tongue round and round the buttery walls, eating pussy like it was going out of style, sucking as much of the pliant, fleshy lips as she could get into her mouth.
The older woman suddenly threw herself back down on Brenda's spread crotch, only this time she was aiming for a different target. Instead of thrusting her tongue back into that loose and fuck ready vagina, she jammed her lips and tongue lower down, jamming them hard against the round, winking button of her anus. Pressing her lips to the blazing ring, she swirled her tongue over its wrinkly surface hungrily, shivering with her own wanton frenzy.
The feel of that tongue licking at her anus was like an electric shock to Brenda's nervous system. She jerked spastically on the bed, cumming again, cumming harder as the lewd, wet probe teased her most private place. As the wave of joy swept her up, she ate Gwen's pussy even more savagely, actually chewing on the drooping flaps, actually sliding her tongue up between the wide-splayed buttocks.
Gwen came and came and came, her mouth locked tight to the younger girl's rectum, sucking it furiously, trying to get it to open up so she could slide her tongue inside.
The nasty, sucking, sputtering sounds between her ass-cheeks made Brenda writhe frantically, hunching up obscenely from the bed to smack her naked pore against the wet, nursing lips.
Finally, the older woman stopped sucking, stopped humping, and rolled to the side. Brenda automatically reached out for her, wanting to be held to be squeezed, to be loved, but Gwen was moving away from her, over to the edge of the bed. Brenda propped herself up on her elbows, getting a spellbinding look at the woman's naked and dripping cunt as she bent down to retrieve something from the floor.
"Here we go!" Gwen said, brandishing the Scotch bottle.
Brenda moaned. She didn't want anymore booze. She wanted more sex.
Gwen winked at her and then put the mouth of the bottle to her lips. In a single movement, she shoved the entire seven inch length of the neck down her throat. When she pulled the bottle back, it gleamed with her saliva.
"Want some?" Gwen said, waving the bottle to her.
Brenda's lower jaw sagged.
"HURRY UP!" Gwen said. "ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES!"
The brunette did what she was told. Trembling with excitement, she lowered her breasts to the bed and stuck her naked ass up in the air. She started to look back around the curve of her hip, but Gwen was already in motion. She felt the hard cap of the bottle brush her pussylips, and then there was a sudden, terrible pressure against her loins, a pressure that gave way to ecstatic pleasure as her vagina opened up, as the thick bottle rammed up her cunt.
"UHHHH!! ! " she howled into the pillow, feeling the thing corkscrew inside her, rolling over the tender drapery of her pulsating cunt.
Gwen was an old hand with Scotch bottles. She knew just what to do. In less than a minute, she had the brunette moaning and hunching back into the hard thrusts, forcing her pussy to swallow down the smooth neck of the bottle.
"CUM FOR ME, CHILD!" Gwen said, jerking the bottle faster, turning it into a greenish blur between her pink and gleaming labia.
"UHH! UHHHH!! ! " Brenda cried, swiveling her smooth bottom in a great circle, making it rub incitefully over her erect clitoris.
"CUM! CUM!! CUM!! ! " the older woman panted, punctuating her command with brutal thrusts of the dildo.
Brenda could not stop herself. The bottom dropped out of the world and she fell down, a sickening plunge through the darkness, her loins bursting with heat, racked by hard contractions, joy rocketing up and down her spine in nonstop waves. It was the biggest, hardest orgasm she'd ever had. It went on and on until she thought she'd go mad from it. And Gwen just kept on working the bottle into her cunt, making it happen again and again, stretching it out until she sobbed and pleaded for her to end it.
Gwen smiled at her and kept right on fucking. She could see the way those hair-fringed pink pussy lips of hers were clinging to the bottle neck and she knew just how wonderful the sensation had to be. Only when Brenda collapsed, face down on the bed, legs and arms splayed out helplessly, her chest heaving, did the older woman relent. She pulled the gleaming bottle neck from Brenda's pussy and paused to run her fingertips over the wide-parted slit.
"WONDERFUL!" Gwen cried excitedly. "Just wonderful! Everything is going to work out just fine!"
Brenda moaned into the slobber-moistened pillow. She didn't have the slightest idea what her new friend was talking about. Her pussy felt torn and stretched as it never had before, and there was a great, gnawing emptiness between her legs in her belly.
"Oh, I know you're going to enjoy yourself, child," Gwen said. "It's all arranged."
Brenda rolled over on her side and blinked at the older woman. "Arranged?" she said.
"That's right, child," Gwen said, jumping down from the bed and starting to dress.
When Brenda tried to get up, Gwen waved her back down.
"No, child, you just stay right there," Gwen said, sheathing her big breasts in her lavender brassiere cups. "You don't have to move a muscle. like I said, everything's arranged."
The brunette shook her head to clear it. "I don't understand," she said. "Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving, child," she said. "I'm not invited to the party. It's just you and them."
"Me and who?! "
"Oh, child!" she chided, reaching over and pressing the bell button for the conductor. "Just have a little patience and you'll find out."
Brenda was way too weak from the end to end orgasms to be impatient. She sagged back against the bed and closed her eyes. She must've drifted off to sleep at once because she didn't hear Mrs. Harris leave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brenda awakened to the feel of something circling her ankles, something turning her over onto her belly, then spreading her thighs. She was in such a daze that she didn't come fully to her senses until she felt something warm rush over her nakedly exposed vagina, something like a summer breeze.
"OH!" she gasped, trying to push up from the rumpled bed to move her legs. She could do neither. She jerked her head around and saw three grinning male faces behind her, two of which she recognized.
"Hi, lady," said the black porter who'd helped her get into the Harris' compartment earlier. He held her right foot tight to the edge of the bed.
"Have a nice nap?" asked the conductor. He was sitting on the bed between her splayed thighs.
A man she'd never seen before, a Latin-looking fellow in a stained white t-shirt, had hold of her left foot.
"What are you doing?! " she cried, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. It was a pathetic gesture considering how far apart the men were holding her legs.
The conductor and the porter grinned.
"Fiesta!" said the Latin. "Party time!"
"In the vernacular, gang bang," said the conductor.
"NOOO!! " Brenda bawled, thrashing madly, trying to scratch the men with her nails, anything to get free.
"I think you'd better get her wrists, too," the conductor said.
The men grabbed her frantically flailing hands and pulled them down onto the bed. Brenda tried to fight, but they were too strong. All she managed to do was to exhaust herself further.
The conductor removed his cap and then started to strip out of his uniform.
"PLEASE! PLEASE!" Brenda begged him. "I'll make love to you, but not them! Please, not them, too!"
"I don't think she-likes us," the Latin said to the porter. "Maybe she's race prejudice?"
The porter leered at the pink, moist slit of her vagina down between her parted buttocks. He shook his head. "This lady isn't prejudice," he said. "She just don't know what she's missing. Once she tries black, she ain't never going to go back!"
"Why?! Why are you doing this?! ! " she sobbed.
The conductor stepped out of his pants and neatly folded them, laying them across the opposite seat. He stood there in his shoes, socks and jockey shorts, the monstrous length of his penis jutting out of the leg hole of his briefs, throbbing luridly against his thigh.
"Why?! ! ! "
"Because we know you aren't the kind of woman to make trouble," he said, peeling down his shorts. His hugely erect cock flipped up, slapping hard against his white, sallow chest. Below the vein-marbled staff hung his massive testicles, heavy, bulging orbs that shifted sluggishly in their leathery sac.
"YOU'RE THE KIND OF WOMAN WHO-LIKES TO SCREW," the Latin said.
The porter chuckled. "LADY, YOU'D SCREW ANYTHING," he said. "Screw a damned billy goat if you could get him up!"
"But I will make trouble!! " she cried. "My husband will kill all of you!! "
The three men exchanged wry smirks.
"He will!" she protested.
"Sure, lady," the porter said. "He'll kill us right after you tell him how you made it first with our conductor, then with that Mr. Harris, then with Mrs. Harris, then with all of us."
"Hee-hee," the Latin said merrily. "I think he'll kill you before he kills us, lady."
The conductor once again knelt on the bed between her legs, his cock upraised like a ruddy, purple-headed lance, his balls snuggling uptight to its root like a pair of goose eggs. He reached out and put his fingers to the smooth cheeks of her ass and levered them apart.
"OOOOHHHH!" Brenda moaned, feeling her crotch responding to the prying pressure, feeling her labia flare wide apart, feeling her anus quiver as it fought to remain tightly closed.
"Sweet little white pie," the porter said, smacking his lips. "It sure looks like that Mrs. Harris went to town on it. She sucked you good, huh, lady?"
"Made her cum, I bet," said the Latin.
"Hold her tight," the conductor said, digging his thumbs deeper into the resilient flesh, splaying her cheeks wider apart. He lowered his face and once again blew his hot breath over the wetly gleaming flesh of her vagina, only this time she was held wide open and his breath gusted up into her belly.
"OH!" she gasped, wincing at the lewd sensation, at the way the rush of air ruffled her moist hairs, at the way it teased against her hot pussylips.
"COME ON, MAN!" the Latin said. "ARE YOU GOING TO EAT HER OUT OR WHAT?! "
The conductor raised his face up from between Brenda's cheeks. "I know what I'm doing," he said.
"PLEASE! PLEASE!! I'LL GIVE YOU MONEY, ANYTHING, JUST DON'T DO THIS!! " she pleaded, once again feeling the lust-stirring rush of air gust over her tender slit. She didn't want to get aroused by what he was doing to her; she didn't want to encourage these men in anything, but the aftermath of her repeated previous orgasms was still glowing in her belly, licking at her breasts, and she wasn't sure that she could control herself. It wasn't that she was attracted to any of the men, or that the situation was at all appealing to her, but she could already feel her vagina beginning to contract, to flex in anticipation.
The conductor held his thumbs on either side of her hair-fringed slit, holding the lips of her cunt wide open, actually flattening out the naked plane of her crotch. Edging further forward, he extended his tongue and gently touched the sticky hot petals.
"OH!" she groaned, her hips jerking involuntarily.
"SHOOO-WEEE!! " the Latin said. "That lesbo bitch really did a number on her, just like she said she was! The lady here is hot to trot!"
Brenda didn't want to respond to the butterfly light licking caress coming at her nakedly splayed pussy from behind. She wanted Bob to come and save her, to drag her away from these leering animals. As she thought that, she got a cold chill up her spine. What would Bob do if he did break in on the gang rape. Would he think that she'd asked for it. Would he just glare at her and walk back out?
The conductor's mobile tongue traced crazy circles through her tangled pubic hair, teasing around the open, vulnerable mouth of her vagina.
"LOOK AT THAT MAN EAT!" the porter exclaimed, leaning way over so he could watch the action from above.
"You ain't seen nothing yet!" the Latin said excitedly. "We got ourselves one sicko conductor ... you just wait and see!"
Brenda shuddered, her belly tightening reflexively as he easily slid his wide, thick tongue between her parted labia and surged it deep into her cunt. As he was attacking it from behind, he got much deeper penetration than he had before. It felt like he was trying to squirm his tongue right up out of her mouth! She whimpered in shame as his tongue rubbed lewdly against her aroused clitoris, setting off a fresh flurry of sparks, making her cuntal passage ripple and tug.
"GO FOR IT!" the porter cried, greedily watching his boss bob his head, watching the obscenely stiffened tongue glide between the splayed petals, delving deep into the hollow of her liquid loins.
She choked back the cry of wanton excitement that threatened to betray her. She told herself over and over that she did not want this, that it was happening against her will, that she was a victim. But she could not convince herself that somehow, someway, she was to blame, not only for what was going on, but for the unmistakable feelings of pleasure and arousal that were coursing through her body as the man slavishly gobbled her open cunt, fucking his tongue madly through the hotly palpitating orifice.
Then the deeply squirming tongue withdrew and the pressure of his face pressed hard against her butt-cheeks lifted. She moaned in embarrassment as she felt a trickle of her own sexual lubricant, love juice mixed with his thick saliva, oozing down the inside of her thigh.
The conductor moved his thumbs up higher in her crack, bracketing the tiny, pink ring of her wrinkled anus with them, then pushing outward, making the round hole flatten out into a narrow slit.
"Here comes El Sicko!" the Latin said.
Both of the male spectators lowered their heads closer so as not to miss anything.
Brenda had a horrible premonition of what was about to happen to her, but she was too weak to struggle anymore.
The conductor pressed his parted lips to her anus, squeezing her buttocks tight in his hands, anticipating the violent jerk of her body away from the lewd kiss. He held her firmly in place and mashed his mouth against her pore, kissing it passionately, rubbing his cheeks back and forth, groaning with excitement.
"YEEEEEE!" Brenda shrieked, her back arching, lower jaw dropping as the warm, wet mouth covered her anus. Even though she'd tried to steel herself against just such a thing, the staggering reality of was happening between her buttocks was absolutely overwhelming. Mrs. Harris had kissed and sucked her anus only moments before, but her caress was not like the conductor's. Hers was gentle, soft, not savage and hurtful. Brenda whimpered as she felt hard, sharp teeth nipping at her tightly clenched nether hole, as she felt hot, thick tongue sliding incitefully over it.
"LOOK AT THAT SUCKER LICK ASS!" the Latin said.
"He's really doing it!" said the porter.
The conductor was not content merely to lick, either. He mashed his mouth tight to the tiny ring and started darting the tip of his tongue against the constricted muscle, prodding it over and over, trying to push up inside.
Brenda tried to clench her buttocks together, but his hands were too strong. She let out a miserable wail of subservience and shame as she felt the heat of his mouth and tongue working on her tightly closed pore, making it stretch like taffy.
The conductor waited until he thought the time was right and then he jabbed into the softly fluttering hole with all his might.
"UHHHHH!! ! " she bawled as the thick tongue slithered up into her rectum. The sensation was too degrading for words. And it got worse when he started to slide his tongue in and out, fucking into the hot, rubbery depths of her ass.
"I never seen the like!" the porter groaned, his eyes bulging.
"El Sicko!" the Latin chirped.
Brenda tried to draw up into herself, to shut out the cruelly pinioning hands, the obscenely skewering tongue that was burrowing between her buttocks, wiggling luridly over her trembling bowels. She tried to shut it out, but it was impossible. The reality of the rumpled bed, the grunting behind her, the pressure of hands spreading her cheeky ass wide open; all of it swept in on her, engulfing her in shame and revulsion.
The conductor sniffled and snorted against her anus, deliriously rolling his tongue over the tight, hot walls, driving it through the fluttering sphincter. He could feel the young woman beneath him quaking with horror as he violated her and that only further aroused his animal passion.
Brenda groaned with relief as the long tongue finally pulled out of her ass. Her relief, however, was short-lived.
"GET HER UP ON HER KNEES!" the conductor barked impatiently.
The brunette was unceremoniously shoved into a submissive kneeling position on the bed, her sweet, smooth bottom raised high in the air.
"GO GET IT!" the porter shouted, as the conductor levered his knees between her spread thighs, forcing them to open even wider.
"OOOOHHHHH!" Brenda wailed. It felt like he was trying to split her pelvis in two!
The conductor put the fingers of his left hand to her upturned buttocks, using his thumb and forefinger to open the deep, tight crack. As he leered at the glistening, friction-reddened anal ring, he wrapped his right hand around the fleshy staff of his blood-engorged member and started to masturbate, sliding the thick outer sheath up and down over the rock-hard inner bone.
Brenda could hear him back there, panting, hear the slithery satin on satin sound of his hand sliding up and down his rigid prong. She still had hope, hope that he would fuck her in the pussy and not in the other place, but it was faint hope, indeed.
The conductor worked himself up into a state of lustful frenzy, rubbing his thick cock until the white semen dripped obscenely from the bulging tip. Once his purplish bulb was coated with the viscous fluid, once he was hot enough, he bent his cockhead down, aiming it between the spread thumb and forefinger of his left hand, aiming it at the tiny, soft ring of her anus.
"HOLD HER TIGHT!" he growled, edging his cock closer, holding it a scant half inch from her anus.
Brenda knew that her hopes were dashed. She could feel the awesome heat coming off his cockhead, feel it raging over the sensitive skin of her anus. He was going to rape her rectum! She buried her face in the pillow and began to sob. Her situation was so hopeless that it did not even occur to her to cry out for help. These brutal men had her where they wanted her. They had her all figured out. She didn't dare raise a ruckus for fear Bob would come running ... for fear he would see the lewd coupling and think that she instigated it.
"Once I get the head in you can let go," the conductor told them. "When I'm in that far, I've got it made in the shade."
Brenda let out a bleating cry of anticipated agony, her pretty face contorted with terror.
The conductor suddenly reared back and thrust forward with all his might, spearing his semen-moistened cockhead right into the wet and warmed ring of her anus.
"UHHHH-YEEEEE!! ! " Brenda screamed as the huge ramrod crushed between her buttocks, as the impossibly broad head plowed into her tender pore. She tried to throw herself forward on the bed, to jump away from the sadistic lunge, but the hands of the other men held her fast. There was no escape.
"SONOFABITCH!" the porter groaned, watching from a distance of less than a foot as the thick purple cockhead plunged through the tiny anal ring, as the small hole flared wide open, yawning, tearing, slipping down over the knobbish tip, down over the jutting spongy rim, clasping, enclosing the whole head of his huge penis.
The conductor grunted with pleasure as he felt her anus give way, opening like a rosebud to receive his massive erection. His cock was steely hard and her pore was wet; there was no stopping him. He lunged again, bucking his hips with savage fury, skewering another three inches of thick and throbbing cock up her ass.
"YEEEEE!! ! " she screamed again, louder. It felt like they were pouring molten lead up her rectum. She writhed and squirmed frantically, like a bug on a pin, struggling with all her strength to avoid further impalement.
The Latin man, alarmed by her screams and not wanting to have his pleasure interrupted, grabbed hold of her long hair and jammed her face down hard into the pillow, muffling her agonized shrieks and half-smothering her.
"TURN HER LOOSE!" the conductor cried to the men.
The second that their hands released her, she began to jerk and twist her buttocks beneath him, trying desperately to disengage his brutally thick penis from her rectum, but, as the conductor well knew, her wild thrashings only made her predicament worse. Every time she bucked and writhed, she forced his stiff prick deeper into her bowels. It slithered, inch by tube-splitting inch, up into her tightly resisting anus until he had his broad, hairy cock root pressed tight to the distended, broken ring, until his hot, hard balls were mashed against the mouth of her vagina, until the full, straining length of his immense erection was buried in her seething ass.
"MAN, SHE'S TIGHT!" the conductor wheezed, his eyes bulging. "A FUCKING VIRGIN IN
THE ASS!"
"NOT NO MORE," the porter said, stripping out of his uniform coat, then his shirt. His chest was the same dark chocolate hue as his face and very heavily-muscled. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, stepping out of them.
"SHOOOOO-WEEE, MAN!" the Latin said, gawking at the porter's underwear, at the huge throbbing bulge that was pitching a tent in the front of them. "YOU GOT A BONE-ON AND THEN SOME!"
"Yeah," the porter said, pulling down his shorts. His ebony-skinned penis snapped up, arching from the crisp black hairs of his loins to the middle of his breastbone, where the massive, knobby head oozed gobs of sticky white, smearing it between his jutting pectorals.
Gasping from the effort, the conductor started to fuck into Brenda's ass. He moved very slowly, taking his time. Even as it was, it felt like the tight, rubbery walls of her rectum were skinning his cock alive.
Brenda sobbed brokenly into the pillow. She realized that it was pointless to resist the rudely invading rod, that any movement on her part only increased her pain ... and his pleasure. The huge penis was slogging in and out, in and out, scouring over her tender anus, stabbing so deep into her belly that she was frightened that he might kill her with it. The waves of agony coursed down the backs of her thighs as the horrible erection thrust home and shot up her spine as it drew back.
The conductor put his hands flat to her buttocks and levered them apart, watching with rising lust as his great, blood-thickened cock pierced the tiny hole, as the searing heat of her bowels enclosed his aching penis. He moved a little faster on each succeeding lunge, building up the friction heat in the walls of her rectum, widening the narrow passage for the much harder fucking to come.
"HEY, MAN!" the porter said, climbing up on the bed beside him. "Hey, why don't you give somebody else a go. You already fucked her once, remember?"
"I never fucked her here," the conductor said.
"Nobody ever fucked her there," the Latin said, taking off his t-shirt and pants. "Not even her old man!"
"I WANT SOME OF THAT PUSSY, MAN," the porter said. "COME ON, THERE'S PLENTY OF ROOM IN THERE FOR BOTH OF US."
The conductor's eyes widened and an obscene grin spread over his face. He leaned way over her trembling, silky back and hissed in her ear, "HOW'D YOU LIKE THATHOW'D YOU LIKE TWO BIG DICKS FUCKING YOU AT THE SAME TIME?"
"THREE!" the Latin said, hauling out close to a foot of solid muscle. His penis was like a pale yellowish brown club capped with a bloated, shiny maroon bulb. Underneath it, his ruddy scrotum hung to mid-thigh, weighed down by the heft of his huge testicles.
"OOOHHHH, NNNOOOOOO!" she gasped, between her clenched teeth. "NO, NO MORE!"
"SHE'S UP FOR IT," the porter said.
"YEAH!" said the Latin, working the fleshy sheath of his cock back and forth anxiously, making pre-cum ooze and drip from his slit.
"Coming up!" the conductor said, locking his arms so tight around her waist that she thought he was going to break her in half.
She whimpered as she felt herself lifted up, as the conductor held her back pinned tight to his chest and just straightened up. She whimpered again, much louder as he let all of her body weight fall on the joining point of their bodies, on the broad root of his cock and the hotly-stretched ring of her anus.
"GANGWAY!" the porter said, starting to fumble between her splayed, limp legs.
"NO! WAIT!" the conductor said. "Let me stand up first."
"Stand up?" the Latin croaked.
"YOWWWWW!! ! " Brenda howled as he stepped back off the bed, as he bounced her on his rudely insinuating cock, as the deeply embedded head jabbed high in her bowels. She dangled there, skewered utterly on his cock, her knees lifted, thighs helplessly parted.
The porter jumped down to the floor, standing toe to toe with the conductor, squirming between her thighs, then rubbing his dark fingers over the pink flesh of her cunt.
Brenda shuddered and groaned as she felt him opening her up, parting her slit wide to receive his huge black cock.
"NICE AND WET!" the porter said, reaching up to bend his cock down and taking hold of her thigh, forcing her to wrap it about his thick waist.
She locked her legs around his middle, not so much to accommodate him, as to take some of the weight off her poor raped anus.
The black man grasped his long, aching cock in his right hand and jammed it mercilessly between her wet labia, surging it straight up into the tender cavern of her cunt.
"YEEEEEEE!! ! " Brenda screamed as the second penis slithered up inside her quaking belly, up alongside the conductor's hotly throbbing staff. It felt like she was ripping, splitting in two from anus to cunt! She lay trapped between the two gasping men, whining with agony and humiliation, sandwiched by the two brutal cocks, which were separated in her loins by only a single thin membrane.
"AAGGGHHH! I CAN FEEL YOUR DICK THROBBING!" the porter groaned excitedly.
The conductor laughed. "How 'bout this, then?" he said, starting to fuck in and out of her ass.
The black man gritted his teeth and his eyelids fluttered. The whole underside of his deeply buried penis was being massaged by the sliding cock in her ass. Moaning into her flushed, pain-racked face, he, too, started to fuck up into her belly, shooting hard thrusts into the widely stretched depths of her wet pussy.
Brenda tried to fight it for a second, tried to claw her way upward, away from the hurtful ramrods, but the pain was much, much worse. Sobbing, she relaxed and let it happen. She was wedged between the two men's chests, held up in the air by their hands at her thighs and buttocks, held still while they fucked ruthlessly into her tortured loins, their lunges hitting a syncopated rhythm, one thrusting in as the other withdrew, so that there was always throbbing cock skewering into her. They battered her smooth, young body back and forth between them like a bag of shredded foam rubber, their long, thick, gleaming penises shafting viciously into her crotch like twin battering rams.
The Latin watched, mesmerized for a moment as the two glistening cocks plowed up into her. When he hunkered down and peered up at the action, he could actually see the pinkly clasping edges of her cunt drawing back on the out-stroke, clinging desperately to the black-skinned, satiny smooth cock, only to be stuffed back in on themselves as the dark spear plunged home. The same thing was happening to her anus, the distended ring clutching to the hard-driving shaft. The men's testicles were bobbing all over the place as they hunched, slapping into each other, into her thighs and buttocks, swinging back and forth between their parted thighs.
Unable to bear being left out any longer, the Latin leaped to the bed and reached out for Brenda's face, grabbing her hair, forcing her to turn her mouth toward him.
"UHHHHH!! " she moaned as more cock came her way, as the Latin's sperm-moistened bulb crushed against her pain-parted lips. She could not keep it out. Everything hurt too much. She could keep nothing out.
"Yeeee-hah!" the Latin cried, hauling her head down, forcing the warm, wet ring of her mouth to slip down over the head of his aching cock. He kept right on pulling until her lewdly ovaled lips slipped half way down his cock, then, huffing and puffing from the pleasure he was getting from her, he started to push her face up and down, making her blow him.
The pungent taste of his penis exploded in her mouth, burning almost as badly as the cock that skewered up her ass from behind. His salty semen instantly mixed with and thickened her saliva, lubricating the way for the bulgingly erect shaft. While she whimpered in horror at the total subjugation of her body, she found her mouth and throat being wantonly used, abused by yet another hard-fucking cock.
The sight of their friend making her suck his cock right under their noses, turned on the conductor and porter no end. Their savagely pistoning cocks thrust faster and faster into Brenda's widely stretching cunt and anus, building up the friction heat in her loins until she thought she could feel herself melting. Along with that awesome heat came a flicker, a tingling of something else, something that was not pain.
Suddenly, her whole body jerked, cunt and mouth and anus tightening down on the plunging, reaming cocks. She whinnied madly into the Latin's velvety cockhead, the mixture of semen and slobber bubbling from her ovaled lips.
"HEY! HEY, SHE'S CUMMING!" the porter howled.
Brenda didn't want it to be true. She would've given anything if it hadn't been true. But she could not deny the strange upswelling of feeling surging through her plundered loins. It was almost as if her very helplessness, as if the terrible, multiple rape of her body, was only part of some terrible punishment she had to endure. The really awful part, the worst part, was sweeping over her now. She was doomed to orgasm, to cum around the thick fleshy cocks thrusting into her against her will, doomed to give them the ultimate pleasure of hearing her squeals of ecstasy.
Then it was too late to speculate. Her hips began to thrust backwards to meet the plunging strokes of the conductor's cock crammed into her rectum; they they leaped forward to gulp the whole ebony length of the porter's cock in a single lunge. Her lips tightened around the Latin's hard-pulsing member, sucking at the full length of it as they slid up and down, up and down over its glistening shaft.
"UUUHHHHHH!" the Latin croaked, and his knees began to knock as his cock fountained in her mouth.
Delirious, Brenda greedily gulped down the raging spurts of his thick semen, reaching up with her hand to milk the throbbing shaft, to urge more of the viscous, warm fluid into her throat. As she sucked and swallowed the scalding jets of cum, her entire body undulated wildly between the two other men and her buttocks began a salacious, gyrating rhythm of their own, squirming in desperate abandoned circles between the two impaling rods.
"MUHHHHH!! ! MUHHHHHM!" she gurgled around the cum-spitting cock, thrashing, twisting eagerly on the hard-driving rods as they plowed deep into cunt and rectum.
The conductor let out a strangled yelp and his cock bucked hard against the walls of her rectum. Gush after gush of blazing semen shot into her trembling bowels.
Brenda came again, then, harder, shivering violently at the jets of sperm flooding mouth and ass, nibbling, kissing at the slobbery, rubbery head of the Latin's ejaculating cock, mindless of how his cum was spurting all over her face, her cheeks, her chin.
The porter could hold out no longer. He reared back and jammed his sturdy manmeat into her so hard that her breasts bounced up to almost touch her chin.
"YEEEEEEE!! ! " she shrieked, letting the skewering cockhead slip from her spermy lips, her legs kicking frantically as the hugely throbbing black cock exploded in her loins.
The quartet thrashed and squirmed out its ecstasy, semen dripping, smearing everywhere, and the obscene suck and slap of sweaty, lust-heated bodies filling the compartment with a symphony of animal passion.
Finally, the men stopped fucking into her and, one by one, they slumped back onto the bed. Brenda clung to the porter as the conductor's softening penis slipped free of her broken anus and then, as the black man dropped back onto the bed, she fell on top of him. The heap of sated bodies did not move for a long time. The only sign of life was the deep, labored breathing.
Then, the Latin groaned and sat up. He looked at the upturned, snow white ass of the brunette and grinned. Wrapping his fist about his cock, he quickly masturbated himself into full erection, then moved in around behind the oblivious woman.
Brenda, knew something was wrong when she felt fingers prying insistently at her buttocks again.
"NO!! " she sobbed. "NOT AGAIN!! "
"Hey, lady," the Latin said, fitting the massive maroon head of his penis to her sperm-lubricated anus. "I ain't had a go at your ass, yet. You'd better be good or we'll tell your husband how you got this little party together."
"Yeah," said the porter, starting to move his hips, to slide his cock, which though limp was still embedded in her pussy, in and out, working up his own second erection. "You'd better do just like we tell you, lady, give us all the sex we want, or your hubby's going to get the bad news."
"NO! OOHHH! STOP!! " she cried.
"Be good!" the conductor snarled, shoving his limp cock against her mouth. "Or the shit is going to hit the fan!"
That's just what happened, too.
Bob Jones had been waiting around in the dining car, trying to think of a way to win his wife back, and he'd thought he had finally come up with something that would work, so he'd ambled back to his compartment.
The second he stood in front of the door he could hear the sounds of an orgy in progress. His first thought was that his wife was putting on another free fuck and suck session for some of the train's employees. When he carefully, quietly fitted his key to the lock and opened the door a tiny crack, nothing he saw altered his opinion. There Brenda was, lewdly accepting the long, gleaming cocks of not one, but three horny men!
The burning pain in his gut was terrible. She was obviously enjoying it, obviously getting off. Why, even the other men were laughing at the way she was cumming!
Bob's impulse was to shut the door, to forget about Brenda, to forget about his marriage to her. Some things are not meant to be. He would've shut the door and walked away, if the scene hadn't been so perversely strange to him. It hurt like hell for him to watch all those guys getting off on his wife's nubile young body, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from it. He watched until all four of them collapsed, his heart thudding up in his throat.
If that Latin-looking guy hadn't spoken up, if he'd kept his mouth shut and just climbed onto her ass and started fucking her, Bob would never have hung around. He would've left, hurt, maybe damaged forever, but he would've left.
As it was, he realized in a single, blinding instant that Brenda was being held against her will, that those men were raping her! A surge of righteous fury exploded in his veins and he knew he was going to do something, something to revenge her, to revenge himself.
He stopped back from the door and walked calmly over to the fire extinguisher which was encased in a glass box. Alongside the extinguisher was a fire axe. He removed the long-handled axe from the case and then, using the strength of his hands, he wrenched the blade from it. He dropped the blade on the floor and smacked the end of the handle into his palm. It made a satisfying sound. He then turned back to the open door, walking confidently, ready for anything.
All hell broke loose when Bob "Curly" Jones burst through the compartment door and let out a blood-curdling scream of fury.
"Oh damned!" the Latin cried, jumping back from Brenda's ass, his eyes bulging with fear as he saw the huge man with the club in his hand.
He was too slow. Bob swung on him, the axe handle cutting a wide swath through the air, hissing as it zeroed in on target. The handle made a hollow, thunking sound as it rebounded off the back of the Latin's skull.
The man dropped like a stone, his knees buckling out from under him., "Hey! Hey, what the hell do you think..." the conductor started to say, trying to bluff his way out of the bad scene.
Bob would not be bluffed. He jumped up on the bed and grabbed the conductor by the hair.
"This is what I think I'm doing!" Bob said, ramming the man's head against the headboard.
"Stop that!" the porter growled, pushing Brenda off him and scrambling to his feet to come to the aid of his boss.
Bob flicked the end of the handle at him almost carelessly. The end of it hit the porter between the eyes, making him cry out in pain.
"Oww!" he moaned, clutching his forehead. "Why you dirty..."
Bob smiled at him ... and took a full cut with the club.
The handle impacted right behind the man's right ear and he, too, dropped like a puppet whose strings had all been cut at once.
"Stop it! For damned's sake!! " the conductor howled, trying frantically to keep his head from being bashed against the headboard. Even when he put his hands out flat on it and pushed with all his might, he couldn't hold back the power of the ex-football player's fury.
Over and over, Bob thunked his head against the wall, grinning from ear to ear as he did it. He kept on bashing the man even after he'd passed out, when he had to hold him up to continue the highly satisfying pounding.
"No more, Bob!" Brenda pleaded. "Bob, you're going to kill him!"
Bob looked at her and nodded. "No! He's not worth it!" she cried. "He's just slime! I don't want to see you go to jail for him! I love you, Bob! Bob! Bob, stop!! "
The big blonde man paused and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. As he did that, he relaxed his grip on the conductor, allowing the unconscious man to fall face down onto the bed.
"I'm sorry, Brenda," he said. "I'm sorry for everything. It's all been my fault."
"No! No, it hasn't!" she protested. "I've been just awful. I think I deserved what I got here." He scowled.
"No, I mean it, Bob, I've only been thinking of myself. You can't have a relationship like that. It takes two people, two people working together."
Bob smirked. "I guess it's been both our faults," he said. "Neither of us knew what to expect from the other. We had all these fantasties about how it was going to be."
"It's going to be all right, though," she said.
He gave her a doubtful look.
"Even after all this ugliness," she said, with conviction, "you know why?"
Bob shrugged.
"Because after all of this," she said, "we still love each other. As long as we've got that, I know we can stay together and grow as people."
"I do love you, Brenda," Bob said, his voice suddenly all choked up.
"I know," Brenda said, throwing herself in his big, strong arms.
