Beverly circled her nipple with the silver disc, moving the massager around in a slow, sensuous, provocative rotation. Up-down-through her deep cleavage-around and around-along the outside-then back again-the shivering, shuddering reaction of her tits forcing warm blood to race to her nipples and further engorge them. She hadn't even touched the taut brownish rims of her aureoles yet, but both of the tips of her tits were fully erect and throbbing.
Beverly's fingers contracted involuntarily. She pressed the breast she was holding hard against the vibrator, then ran the silver disc over the nipple. A delicious tremor of icy heat ran down from the hard point, going straight to her ...
ONE
"Werner!" the luscious young film actress shouted impatiently. Even from a distance of several hundred feet, her voice reached him over the freshly fallen snow outside the ski lodge with a clarity that suggested intimacy-physical intimacy. "God damn you, are you in there? Do you hear me? Or are you fucking some other woman behind my back? I wouldn't put it past you ... bastard ... !"
The roaring blaze in the big fireplace bathed Werner Kranz's grinning face in a becoming reddish-orange light. So she had come back to him for more sex, after all, he thought smugly. Her carefully feigned hesitation about agreeing to a second rendezvous must have been diminished by his equally put-on indifference to whether she showed up in his bed again or not. Despite her fame and beauty, she wasn't as young as some of the other women he had screwed, so maybe she could no longer afford to be too choosey. Werner was glad she had come. There was something elegant and sophisticated about her sensuality that appealed to him and was a welcome change from the sexually adventurous but intellectually vacuous younger women who had been hiking up the steep slope lately to be instructed by him in the one sport he preferred to skiing.
He didn't bother to answer her repeated calls to him, but waited, letting her stew a little in her own juices, letting some suspense build, some anxiety on her part. "You look beautiful," he told her when she finally appeared in the doorway of the lodge, out of breath, to disarm any anger she might have accumulated along with the anxiety. "Just look at all that color in your cheeks ... I wonder if your ass cheeks are glowing like that, too ... I hope I get to find out. Very soon. Before it fades."
"Skimeister," his sexy visitor panted, "you're full of shit-like all the other men I have the lousy luck to meet!"
But he could tell that she wasn't really angry. He laughed, his slight Austrian accent tingeing even his laughter. The accent, the touch of exoticism it gave his other masculine attributes, was only one of the things that had made Snow Valley's resident ski instructor little short of an advertised tourist commodity. Women guests practically booked his sexual services in advance ... the reservation desk clerk was constantly being asked to verify that Werner Kranz would be available for ski instruction during the proposed visit to the resort.
And even if the management had had the nerve to charge a stud fee for Werner's unofficial services, there would have been plenty of willing and unabashed takers. Snow Valley wasn't a resort for skiers on a budget, despite its atmosphere of informality. Its rates were high and guests of either sex could easily run up weekly tabs of four figures if they weren't careful, or if they were wealthy enough not to have to be careful about how much they spent on their pleasures. They paid without grumbling because Snow Valley was an "in" place. Having been there in the wintertime was a status symbol, a mark of affluence, a proof that one swung only in the most exclusive circles.
The resort was something quite different to Werner Kranz-it was his kingdom, the small ice-covered pond in which he was the reigning bullfrog. There was a certain degree of cynical shrewdness in the fact that he stayed on there, regularly turning down flattering and lucrative offers to establish himself in a similar capacity elsewhere. Only Werner was fully aware that a comfortable, luxurious ski resort like Snow Valley, New York was the only place where a one-time Olympic champion, now slightly over the hill, athletically speaking, could be secure. He had been hired in the first place on rather questionable credentials, before the resort had made it to the big time. His status had risen steadily along with its reputation. An Adonis imported from Austria, Werner had indeed once won an Olympic silver medal, but the only records he had ever set had been in various bedrooms. No one at Snow Valley ever bothered to look up the actual details of his brief and not-so-glorious athletic career. He was always referred to by the front-desk personnel as "our former Olympic champion," and, since he certainly looked and acted the part to perfection, that was good enough for the resort and its patrons. He was a first-rate skiing instructor, which was all that really mattered now.
Christina Blake was one of the few women who saw through Werner even while falling under his spell. As a Hollywood actress of less than the front rank herself, she knew from personal experience how important it was to hold on to whatever claim to fame you did happen to have and make the most of it, exploiting it for maximum mileage in the hope that it would lead to bigger and better-and more secure-things. It was difficult to dislike this sexy son of a bitch, she thought to herself now-almost impossible to not fall temporarily in lust with him. She could easily imagine less jaded women than herself making the mistake of falling in love with him, too. But not her. She'd been around too long. It was going to be strictly grab the sex and run with her.
Christina possessed her own charisma, a soft and slippery sheen typical of women to whom
"work" means getting out of bed in the morning and looking beautiful and desirable in front of a camera for part of the-day only. Werner responded to her subtle display of wealth, influence, and purchased class with respect, but not quite the idolatry that the movie star was used to-and bored by. To Werner, money was essential but only in amounts large enough to ensure a fairly comfortable lifestyle. Sex was the only thing he really couldn't live without, and getting it had never been a problem for him.
What appealed to him about Christina was the way she had skillfully used her celebrity to exploit herself further, instead of simply riding on what she had already accomplished. Money could be obtained in many ways, reputable or not, but fame and popularity-as opposed to notoriety-were much more elusive acquisitions. It was possible to buy a little of both, but not the true and lasting kind that Christina promised to achieve eventually, if her luck held out as it had until now.
"If you're offended by the fact that I'm attracted to you physically," Werner told her now, "I can assure you that I admire a woman like you for her achievements just as much if not more."
Christina smiled, her lips seeming to beckon him. "Double bullshit," she retorted. "like any other woman, I think I'd rather be admired and wanted for my immediate, personal attributes."
"Which, in your case, are considerable," he said immediately, already thinking about how they would make love.
"Oh? Name some of them."
"Your figure, for example," he suggested.
"So far so good ... let's hear you break it down into its component parts."
"Well, you have a beautiful bosom," he ventured uncertainly.
"Okay ... good tits. Go on, this is getting interesting."
"A shapely derriere," he said slyly, admiring it. Her snug-fitting ski pants left little of it to the imagination, even if he hadn't already seen it bared.
"Translation: nice ass."
Werner had already begun to suspect that she was turned on by a little healthy vulgarity. It was a not uncommon quirk among women who moved in the best social circles and had to cultivate refined language habits in their public lives.He was willing to play her game.
"Gorgeous legs," he went on, caressing them with both hands, "that meet at a beautiful cunt."
He had uttered the magic word, and she responded with the countersign: "Fuck me!" she demanded, throwing herself into his arms.
She purred with lewd contentment when his hands stroked her sides, then moved lower to caress the enticing flare of her hips. She liked feeling his admiring fingers pressing into the firm flesh of her ass cheeks, liked seeing the glazed look of happy horniness in his eyes. She rotated her voluptuous hips in a lusty circular motion, inviting him to touch her everywhere, to fondle her more intimately, to jam his crotch tightly into hers, to tear off her clothes and screw her silly and then screw her some more.
"Jesus, Christina ... you're so ... so damned sensuous!" Werner gasped.
Christina looked up at his face, at his muscular, well-formed body, at the hint of an erection beginning to stir inside the tight crotch of his own ski pants, at the shuddery way he breathed and the way his powerful physique had begun to tense with anticipation. "I like looking at you, too. You're a handsome ... stud, Werner," she told him frankly. She let her left hand swing forward until it could feel the heat radiating through his pants from his prick. Her mouth opened in a little gasp of lust, then she tightened her fingers around his erection and squeezed it hard. With her other hand, she unzipped Werner's pants and pulled his cock out. Now she could grasp and caress it in both hands.
The upcurved shaft was hard and hot to the touch, but Christina liked most the smooth, almost satiny texture of the skin. She let her fingertips slide up and down the side of the shaft, then rubbed the head. With a mischievous smile, she held the cock still and pressed a fingertip to the drop of lubrication that had appeared at the end of it. She raised her fingertip to her lips and touched her tongue to the glistening drop of fluid.
"So good," she moaned. She felt a corresponding trickle of excitement in the depths of her vagina. She broke away from Werner and took her time getting undressed and lying back in an instinctively seductive pose on the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace. Raising one knee, opening the fluffy triangle of her pussy, she began to caress herself all over, getting her nipples erected, her clit protruded from its hood. "Well?" she demanded huskily, staring up at him. "What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you invited me up here for?"
Only Werner's eyes moved at first, darting restlessly from her lovely face to her breasts, to the dark wedge of her cunt and then back to her tits again. "Yes," he breathed. Then, louder, "Hell, yes!" He threw off his own clothes and knelt on the rug between her open thighs and lowered himself onto her lewdly displayed body.
Christina felt her heartbeat accelerate as she reached up for him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Her lips parted and she turned her head face upward, begging him for a kiss. His tongue searched the interior of her mouth, probing, exploring, wallowing in the warm, saliva-slick goodness. He pressed his tongue against hers and reveled in the slippery textures and erogenous friction of kissing Christina Blake's hungry mouth.
Christina was enjoying herself immensely, and subtly assuming the upper hand, taking command of the situation. It was easy to do so. Just a simple shift of her hips guided his cockhead toward her cuntal crevice. Werner automatically made a blind thrust that made his prick slide up across the erect bump of her clit. Christina arched upward at the pressure on her little sexual trigger, then sank back down on the fur, waiting for Werner's cock to find the tiny, inviting oval of her cunt mouth. She knew he would find it very quickly, but even so it was a surprise when he did. When Werner's massive knob pressed against her pussy lips and began to force itself between them, stretching them wide, a hot, wet happiness flowed up through her body from the orifice and made her shiver with lustful anticipation. Her knees opened wider. The head of his cock pressed thrillingly deeper through her vaginal opening. Her cunt muscles felt and memorized the shape of the organ as it penetrated her. She gave a quick twist of her hips and part of the shaft plunged inside her craving cunt.
It was a warm, secure, comforting feeling, a feeling Christina could never get enough of. Just letting her vaginal walls relax and spread open to make room for another inch or two of cockshaft made her juices flow faster and thicker. She could easily imagine what it looked like down there-the pink, orchid-like folds of her pussy sheath stretching obscenely, gloatingly wider around Werner's thick hard cock, molding itself around him, melting over the length of his male endowment like so much softening butter. Her hands flattened on his lower back and pushed down, urging him to bury his cock deeper into the mushy slot of her wildly aroused cunt.
Christina enjoyed the feeling of being penetrated almost as much as the actual fucking ... she had always liked screwing, even in her early teens when she hadn't put out as often or as completely as some girls she knew. "Oh, Werner, don't tease me, give me a little more, baby," she purred. "Give me a lot more, while you're at it-give me all of it and then fuck me with it!"
Werner pushed harder and they both felt the dry friction heat pulsating through their joined genitals as her labia tightened around the base of his shaft. The pressure dragged her clit down toward the mouth of her cunt and the swollen little love button fairly buzzed with heat and arousal ... each time Werner pulled back to start a fresh stroke, the hood of Christina's clit slid erotically back and forth over its tip, which in turn rubbed against his unusually thick cockshaft, and a hot tingle of electric heat shot up her spine. It was this shuddery, shivery tingling from her clit that made her vaginal oils flow more freely. Christina rolled her hips lasciviously in a humping rhythm and Werner followed her lead, plunging deep into her and pulling back, fucking her in the brutal way she wanted. She felt her heartbeat speed up again. Now the whole surface of her skin was warm and flushed and beaded with sweat, alert, alive, and responsive to every sensation. She felt his coarse crotch hairs scratching the tender flesh in the moist red valley around her cunt lips. One tuft skidded across the naked and vulnerable point of her clitoris ... she stiffened, groaned with pleasure, then pushed her cunt up at him faster, more insistently.
"Fuck me, you big-dicked bastard!" Christina demanded. "Ram that cock into me! Let me have it! Make me come! Fuck me-fuck me-fuck me!"
Werner was in fuck heaven. She felt hot and wet and unbelievably sensuous, the soft moist pressure of her vaginal walls rubbing fiercely all over his cock as he pistoned it in and out of her like a maddened rapist, the sweaty-slick mounds of her voluptuous breasts sliding under his chest, the long smooth lengths of her strong thighs tightening against his hips as he rode her to the finish line in a dead heat. Werner wallowed in the sweet, heated honey of her pussy. His hands began to slither all over, smoothing over her hot, sweaty flesh, caressing each of the sensual, sexy curves and hills and hollows of her luscious body as he used it as the willing receptacle of his lust.
Christina moved under him in ecstatic abandon. Werner had the key that could and did unlock all of the eroticism that simmered under her cool, refined exterior. Each touch of his hands, each slow, passionate swivel his cock made in the steaming swamp of her vagina, each gasp of shared delight, made her body react more lustily, with more whorish abandon. She moved her hands from his shoulders and back down to his ass, pushing on his bare butt, urging him to screw her deeper, harder, faster, to give her all of his strong hard prick.
And Werner did. He plunged himself into her pussy at full, rigid length and rammed his hard, flat stomach against the taut mound of her cuntal bulge. The extra pressure sent fireworks of pure sexual pleasure rocketing through her body. Christina started moaning, screaming, panting for breath.
"Oh, come on, keep fucking me, stud-just keep going, keep dicking me-ohhhh, yeah, that's it, you horny fucker, that way, keep doing that! Oh Werner-it feels so fucking good! It's going to do it for me, it's going to make me come like crazy," she gasped, staring up at his tight grin, his sweating face above hers. Both their bodies were gleaming with a thin, shiny film of sweat, the steady motions of their bodies on the fur rug stirred up more and more of the thick, sensual reek of sex. Werner lowered his face to the sweating hollow between her neck and shoulder.
"Good-good pussy, Christina," he muttered. "Good, hot tight cunt around my cock, good luscious tits under me, good long legs around me-fucking me, fucking me-fucking me, you bitch!"
"Oh, yes, and I love it, you know I do! I love the way you fuck me, the way your big cock moves inside me, I love the way it goes into my cunt sooooo deep! Please don't stop, Werner, please keep going, keep on fucking me, baby-I'm almost there!" Christina moaned.
"Yes, yes, you whore, you love my cock, love fucking, love feeling my big prick sliding right up into your box all the way, shoving into you, grind around and make your hot cunt juice come faster and faster ... you love it as much as I love giving it to you ... Ahhhhh, Christina, you slut! Take it-take it all, take all of my prick and milk it now, move around it, fuck back at me!" Werner's voice rose in volume and urgency as the beat of their fucking accelerated sharply.
The rhythm had been slow and easy, but now it gained speed like a train just cresting a mountain and preparing for the long plunge down the other side. Christina tried to catch her breath, but the violent, regular pushes of his body against hers and the deep, furious strokes his cock was now making into her cunt made her pant like a steam engine. She put her hands on his ass again and pushed, then locked her legs around him and humped with bestial abandon ...
It wasn't enough to satisfy her. She wanted to feel him plunging deeper! She raised her legs, wrapped her hands around the back of her knees, and pulled her thighs painfully wide apart, opening up her whole cunt to him. Now Werner was on top of her, driving the full pistoning length of his prick in and out of her vagina like a jackhammer. And she loved it! Her back arched, giving him a direct, straight shot right to the bottom of her pussy. It went in deeper. She thought that she could feel it ramming up into her throat from below and choking her! She was grotesquely upended underneath him, holding her legs up, shoving her cunt at him, rolling her head and shoulders and gasping. The tension in her body had her pussy clamped around his prick like a vise on a pipe. She lifted her ass a foot off the rug and held herself up in the air to receive his battering ram thrusts.
The awful, punishing impalement made her breath stick in her throat. Christina whimpered. She whined. She gurgled, wanting him to stuff his prick all the way into her and leave it there, deep in her cunt, but she couldn't talk without a massive effort. Finally the words came out, one by one: "Ah-ah-ah, please, please! Please come on-come with me, Werner! Oh, you stud ... you ... please!" Christina knew that she was going to explode in a few seconds. The orgasmic fury was upon her, inside her, all around her, and all that remained to make it complete was the feeling of his semen spurting into her as she came.
"I'm going to-I'm going to shoot," Werner panted as he rose and fell on top of her.
His cock felt like the proverbial greased lightning, powering down into her inexorably, ripping back out, thrusting and withdrawing with superhuman force, until Christina could no longer keep up with it ... her ass remained high in the air, her cunt open, her legs splayed-but she couldn't move against the violent strokes he was giving her. She could only keep her cunt ready and hold herself immobile to ward off the possibility that some clumsy movement would ruin his orgasm or hers. She tried to keep steady, tried to squeeze his cock on its out-strokes and open up again on the deep hard lunges of its re-entry, but it was no use. She was too close to coming to be able to help him ejaculate!
"Oh, oh, oh God!" she grunted hysterically.
"Here, here-take it-take it!" Werner shouted suddenly, and his prick rammed into her vagina like a missile splitting the sky, throwing a fantastic thrust all the way to the deepest part of her womb. Then he exploded inside her!
Christina let herself go completely. Her cunt muscles spasmed shut around his cock. Her arms twitched, pulling her legs up until her thighs touched her tits. She let her fucker roll and heave on top of her, battering her body with his bulk as he shot sperm into her sexual slot while the tidal waves of orgasm rippled hotly outward from her crotch ... she couldn't stop or control it, and she didn't want to. It was the biggest, strongest, most violent come she'd had in a long time, and Christina happily let herself drown in it ... just as her cunt seemed to be flooded by his jism and drowning in it. That first spewing blast had been so forceful that even the numbed nerves in her cervix felt" the load of semen ripping past them. Now, Christina's orgasm accelerated and peaked, tossing her body about like a ship caught in a hurricane. She wanted to scream-to shout-to pray and beg and give thanks to the gods for this titanic climax that she and Werner were giving each other, sharing together ... but the powerful reaction in her cunt kept her vocal cords from working properly, along with every other part of her anatomy. All of her was coming, not just her cunt!
Werner pumped again and again, filling her with his potent male seed, shoving himself deeper, pulling back only a fraction before thrusting fully into her again. His cock pulsed in the throes of a fierce ejaculation even after there was no more semen in it to spit out. With a gasp, he let his aching muscles relax at last. He slumped, still wedged to the hilt in her body, and let Christina uncoil under him. After he'd finished and gone limp on top of her, even after he'd tried to pull out of her, Christina kept climaxing. She rode the rippling waves of pleasure that were wracking her body, smiling up at her stud's handsome, sweating face as the colossal orgasm finally began to taper off.
"How did I do?" she asked impishly. "Compared to all the other women you've enticed up here, I mean."
"Top marks," he replied breathlessly. "Do I get your sexual seal of approval."
"Definitely."
He wasn't just exaggerating to flatter her. She had been tremendous, truly exceptional, eclipsing even her bawdy performance the one previous time they'd made it together.
As much as women were the same, they were all different. That kept the challenge of seducing each new one alive and interesting, kept Werner's sexual curiosity piqued.
The resort afforded him a continual supply of new talent along with a unique opportunity to physically capitalize upon it. Werner did have standards-high ones. He wasn't just another male animal ready and willing at all times to go through the motions of copulation with just any female who offered herself to him. Open aggressiveness on the part of the woman often turned him off rather than on. Only when the femininity remained intact, as it did in the case of Christina Blake, could Werner accept being the prey instead of the hunter.
There were women who considered him the ultimate male chauvinist, and perhaps he was to some extent. But he was also sympathetic and understanding of the needs, and not just the sexual ones, of the many women who became a part of his private life, however temporarily. Whether they came to him or he sought them out didn't really matter. What was important was that they did come together, as he and Christina had just done.
Werner's alter ego on the premises was one of the least athletic men in captivity, both in physical appearance and fact. His professional name was Barney Ballard, but his rotund build had earned him a variety of nicknames, with "Balloon" and "Blimp" the least uncomplimentary. His official position was that of social director-not that the people who came to Snow Valley ever needed much help or supervision in their socializing. Barney was a typical stand-up comedian, whose duties included acting as master of ceremonies at weekend celebrity showcases. Because of his comedy routines, he was second only to Werner Kranz in his popularity among the resort's permanent staff. Broadway columnists and a small army of other comedians, singers, and stars who'd played Snow
Valley celebrated his gluttony from coast to coast on talk shows and the like. As one of them had once put it, "Balloon" was the butt of more crude jokes than a pig's ass, which he resembled in his porcine obesity.
Without question, he was the complete antithesis of Werner Kranz.
"Girls come here to catch Werner," Maggie Slater, the middle-aged, wealthy owner and manager of the resort always cracked, "and to run away from Barney."
The moodiness that Werner affected as part of his act to attract women didn't stop Ballard from basing any number of jokes on the ski instructor's near-legendary sexual prowess. Chuck Trevor, the resort's public relations man, exploited the complementary images of the two men for all they were worth. Trevor was careful to take care of the people who had the most influence with Maggie Slater. Among these, of course, was Werner: Maggie might no longer be young, but she was far from dead yet and for all her shrewd business sense she had never been immune to the charms of handsome, amoral young studs. So Chuck Trevor made certain that every attractive woman guest he spotted in his publicity-photo-scouting rounds, and particularly every female celebrity, attractive or not, met the sexy skimeister.
"Chuck," Werner had once told him effusively after a night of drinking and screwing, "you couldn't be better to me if you were paid to be my own private pimp!"
It was a measure of Trevor's professionalism that he considered this a compliment and was flattered by Werner's appreciation of his services.
Christina Blake had originally come to the resort as just such a celebrity guest of the management, a promotion policy Maggie had dreamt up and that had turned out to be well worth the cost in the past.
"People read that so-and-so is here at Snow Valley living it up," Maggie explained, "and the next thing you know, we get a reservation from half the social climbers in New York State."
It was a blatant publicity ploy, but it had paid off handsomely in magazine articles and photos, giving Snow Valley the not entirely undeserved reputation of being a playground for the jet set and the stars. And no one had directly benefited from these Broadway and Hollywood importations more than Werner. He had always admired female beauty, but when it was backed up by material success and fame, his admiration could quite easily expand into little short of worship.
"There's something extra special about seducing somebody really important," he confessed. "It acts like an alloy in metals, giving a guy extra hardness."
And so he had looked forward to meeting Christina Blake. Chuck Trevor had arranged for some publicity shots to be taken on the main slope outside the ski lodge that Werner was given the use of, some distance from the main buildings of the resort. Christina had shown up with her full entourage of manager, press agent, and personal photographer-ass kissers all three, Werner had noticed at a glance.
Although it was mid-day, she was only a silhouette at first, the sun ricocheting off her. Werner had to lower his sunglasses over his eyes to see whether she lived up to her films and still shots. She passed the test. "I'm Werner," he said in his lingering but pleasant Austrian accent. "It's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh after admiring you in your films."
She didn't bother to introduce the three men with her to him: the paid flunkies of aspiring stars, like those of established stars, were expected to remain anonymous and unsung idolaters and slaves.
"Do you think you can teach me how to use these fucking things long enough to get a picture of me standing up instead of sitting on my ass?" Christina asked bluntly, indicating the skis and poles being carried by one of the men.
He caught the note of challenge in her voice. "I can teach anybody who's reasonably serious about it. But if you're only here to pretend for the photographer, I'll have to go back inside and change into my uniform for such childish nonsense."
This was another part of the image he had carefully put together and projected: the stern teacher who would put up with no frivolity, not even from the famous, when it came to skiing.
"You have a special uniform for nonsense?" Christina asked, intrigued. "What is it-a clown suit?"
"You're just here to play around in the snow," he said with feigned contempt.
"Not really," she apologized. "I really do want to try it ... it looks so beautiful, all the snow and the people flying down the slopes and everything. But I'm no good at athletic things. Don't be mad at me. You did say you had a nonsense uniform."
He smiled at her with more warmth than he had deigned to show previously. "That's what I call most of the outfits you see in the fashion magazines. They aren't made for skiing ... they're for looking at, and picture-taking."
The actress looked down at herself over the rise of her large breasts in her six-hundred-dollar pink parka lined with Finnish muskrat fur. "You mean like mine?"
"Come inside," he suggested. "I've got the right clothes for you in there."
The man with the camera stepped forward to object: "The studio wants her photographed in this outfit."
"When she's in the studio, she can do what the studio says," Werner said grandiloquently. "When we're on my snow, you all do what I say." With that sally, he took Christina's arm and led her toward the lodge. She was clearly impressed by the way her new ski instructor had put the photographer in his place. Most of the time, she moved in a world of neurotic heroine-worship, questionable sexual identity, and ruthless manipulation for profit ... it was refreshing to be with a man who was undeniably accomplished in his field and unimpressed by who she was. The fact that Werner Kranz was impossibly handsome, lean and hard-muscled and bronzed by years of exposure to the winter weather and the sunlight reflected off the snow, was a bonus-the icing on the beefcake, so to speak.
"Is this where you live?" she asked once they were inside the simple A-frame wooden structure. "It's marvelous-to be up here all alone, looking down at the rest of the world, with the snow all around you."
He smiled more suggestively. "This is where I operate," he corrected her slyly. "And I'm not up here all alone, usually. like now. You're here with me."
"True ... " She watched him as he dug into a large closet well stocked with skiing apparel-women's as well as men's. Be prepared must be his motto, she thought. She tried to live by it herself, taking opportunities for romance as they offered themselves to her. She was used to making up her mind about whether to fuck a given guy or not very quickly. Her beauty and physical splendor had made her the object of male interest very early, and she had long ago decided upon a sexual code of conduct for herself. It allowed as much activity as she desired-but with the important qualification that she indulge herself seriously only with men of achievement and renown, men who could advance her career or prestige. "You're nothing but a star fucker," one of her flings had once remarked bitterly. It struck her now as it had at the time-as a crude but accurate description of her attitude. Apart from eliminating the constant and often tempting propositions that came her way from men who could offer her little except their physical attractiveness and sexual skill, it freed her to concentrate most of her energy on a constant round of publicity-garnering sexual adventures, of which this ski-resort visit was the latest-only it had been sexless up until now. Werner Kranz could do nothing to advance her ambitions, but on the other hand she didn't intend this to be a serious affair. Just a zipless fuck that promised to be fun.
"Tell me, Werner," she said, "weren't you in the Olympics once? I think that Mr. Trevor mentioned it to me ... "
"Champion. Giant slalom," he replied, still buried in the closet.
Good, she thought, he has credentials besides a body. She was getting to the point where she was having trouble achieving orgasm without the inner assurance and stimulus provided by the thought that the man fucking her was a man of influence and significance. Mind over body. "You've been intimate with a lot of stars, I'll bet."
"A few," he said, not boasting for once. He offered her a pair of puffy, quilted bright-blue nylon pants that resembled two inflated sausage skins tied together, and a matching jacket with a hood. "Here, these ought to fit you."
"Ugh! They're so sexless!"
"You don't have anything to worry about in that department. You'd look sexy in anything. And sex is an indoor sport. When I teach that, neither the instructor nor the pupil wears anything."
She searched his face for a hint of humor, but he deliberately kept it set in an expression of grim seriousness that implied that he was only offering the joke because she couldn't meet him on his lofty plane of professionalism.
"You're a hard man," she said, stressing the assessment's double meaning by letting her gaze drift down to the well-fitted crotch of his ski pants.
"Try me sometime," he retorted boldly.
Still holding the blue outfit he'd handed her, she sat down in one of the comfortable leather armchairs by the fireplace and casually opened a silver box on the coffee table next to it. The contents were familiar to her: marijuana in one airtight glass vial, cocaine in another; rolling papers and a tiny silver coke spoon handy inside the box as well.
"Well, well, look what we've got here ... I'd have thought someone as athletic as you would be a health nut, or at the very least take a hard line on physical fitness. But you look fit ... and I'm sure you know how to take a hard line on the things that count." She was studying him now as she might have examined a nude statue on exhibit in an art gallery, noting in particular the increasing swell at his crotch. "You like skiing down the bed sheets even better than down the slopes," she said provocatively. "I can see that much."
"You can see a lot more if you like." He was enjoying this verbal foreplay as much as she did. "The best place to learn the fundamentals of skiing safely is under simulated conditions-my bed, for example, since you mention it. The sheets are white and the mattress has something of the same consistency and 'give' as a good snow base."
"What a coincidence ... you could say much the same thing about my body," Christina said mockingly. But her eyes were burning with lust. "Will there be any charge for this lesson?" she asked as he advanced toward her.
His hard-on had assumed massive proportions, exaggerated by the way the synthetic material of the ski pants clung to it as he walked. "No. This one is on the house." He dug down boldly into the taut trousers and pulled out his prick, displaying its full virile rigidity. The lewd visual encouragement was all that a woman like Christina Blake needed to propel herself toward him.
"I'll tell you something," Werner added heatedly as her lips slid over the thick tomato-like mass of his cockhead and sealed themselves possessively around the shaft. "You'll have no health worries with me." She groaned with delight-the sound of a sexual glutton indulging her insatiable appetite for cock-as she began to suck him, her tongue flicking wetly around his turgid organ. "The whites of eggs," Werner continued in a gasp, his hands going down to hold her bobbing head and stroke it, "are the only pure protein source in nature ... in a moment I'll give you a mouthful of my own fresh hot egg whites ... "
He had barely gotten the words out before he made good his promise, his come spilling out of his overexcited cock and splashing like a violent summer rainstorm against the roof of her mouth and her tongue, the rich warm seminal flow oozing erotically from the corners of her still-sucking mouth.
He pulled a huge, bright-red handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. "This time red doesn't necessarily mean 'stop', " he laughed.
She wiped her lips clean of the surplus come and smiled up at him. "It looks like a flag."
"It is. I use it to wave or tie to a ski pole, for warning purposes, on the trails."
"Too bad I didn't see it before I came in here."
"I don't think you would have heeded a warning any way ... you liked doing that for me," he said coolly.
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Just stating my opinion."
She lifted her mammoth breasts, unencumbered by a brassiere, out of her sweater and pushed them against the palms of his hands. "Then give me your professional opinion about these," she taunted.
"U.S. Grade-A jumbos," Werner assured her, kneading the firm mounds of flesh and feeling the nipples stiffening against his palms, which were damp and hot with sweat from his sudden ejaculation into her mouth.
"You like sucking, too," Christina breathed. "And I'm not asking you-I'm telling you! Suck them! Suck my tits!"
He was already pressing his mouth down over the conical pinkness of one large hard nipple while rolling its twin around between his thumb and forefinger. He grunted in agreement as he sucked and licked each luscious breast in turn, then slid slowly downward on her body, tearing her pants open with impatient fingers. In a matter of seconds, her vagina appeared in its furrowed nakedness, already moist and palpitating as it awaited the attack of his lips and tongue.
"Beautiful," he declared, before burying his face in it.
She jammed his head between her thighs, against her mushy swamp. Werner could inhale the musky scent of her dripping excitement, could taste her fluids on his tongue as he ran it into the satiny slit between her parted labia. He pushed his tongue up and down inside the fleshy groove, lapping Christina's cunt with genuine relish. Her moist, glistening scarlet lips, with their lining of soft hairs, fluttered eagerly open and shut around his penetrating tongue, and her expanding clit throbbed as fiercely as a tiny penis. Werner ate her pussy furiously. She came quickly, just as he had done when she'd gone down on him, her tongue-fucked pussy overflowing with the warm vaginal juices tapped by the heat and intensity of her arousal. He was inundated by her climactic flood.
The three men waiting outside knew better than to say anything about the long delay when Werner and Christina finally did emerge from the ski lodge. The photography session itself went smoothly. Christina was in a good mood after the glorious orgasm he'd just given her, and Werner was a natural ham, a combination that made for easy and productive picture-taking. The quickness of it all and the pair's professionalism in following his instructions lessened the irritation of the photographer who'd been kept waiting in the snow outside the lodge for nearly an hour.
Christina's manager and press agent knew perfectly well what had gone on inside.
"She's a cunt," the manager said to Werner while the two of them were watching Christina pose alone. "But she's a smart cunt and a sexy cunt ... if she only had some real talent to go along with it, she could be one hell of a star. Even as it is, in a couple more years you'll be boasting to your buddies about how you had her 'back then'-you'll see."
Werner didn't say anything in reply, although inwardly he thought that what the man had said did pretty well sum up Christina Blake. She had two out of three show-business qualifications going for her, and Werner sincerely hoped that she would go on to become one of the really big names in the entertainment world.
In a way, he had a stake in her career now, too. After all, he didn't give his body to just anyone who came along, either.
TWO
Werner packed it in early one afternoon, turning a group of beginning skiers over to one of the other instructors. "Take good care of them," he said to the young man who began leading them away toward the easy slopes. Werner couldn't remember his colleague's name at the moment, so he didn't want to engage him in any prolonged conversation. They were all the same, anyway-college students on their way to becoming ski bums, or older addicts of the sport who were already bona fide ski bums.
There seemed to be something almost addictive about the sport that turned perfectly ordinary people into slope junkies who wandered from resort to resort in search of ideal skiing conditions. Werner was beginning to be heartily sick of them all-their endless talk about travel, skiing, and sex, in that order of priority; their temporary loyalties; their fierce competitiveness in noncompetitive situations. Not that he had any intention of trying to kick the habit himself.
He went indoors and headed directly for one of the guest lounges for a good stiff drink.
"Werner!" the bartender greeted him effusively. "You've been a stranger around here lately, man."
"I decided to check out the afternoon crowd once, to see if I've been missing anything," the Austrian admitted, surveying the unusually large crowd in the bar. "Is something special going on?"
"Some political caucus or something."
Chuck Trevor showed up a moment later. "Werner," he said, "I've been up to the lodge looking for you. I want you to meet a terrific woman ... "
"I've already met my share of them this week."
"No, I mean it ... she's something special."
"She'd have to be to give me a hard-on, the way I feel today."
Trevor paid no attention to his protest. "Her name's Elizabeth Lawrence and she's a V.I.P. in Washington."
Werner had become an American citizen so recently that it seemed like a patriotic duty to show some interest. "Oh yeah? What is she?"
"A Congresswoman."
"From where?"
"Some Midwestern state, I think."
"That's all I need-making small talk about inflation and tax reform with some farmer's daughter milkmaid type."
"You said the right word there, my boy ... she's got more milk in her jugs than any cow I've ever seen you with here."
"More than Christina Blake, star of stage, screen, and TV jiggle shows?"
"Definitely."
"You're bullshitting me."
"No, honest! And she's got fantastic legs, too."
"Come on. If they had anybody like that in Congress, they'd have her on every front page of every newspaper in the country every day. She'd be the first woman President by now."
"She does get an awful lot of press coverage. But it's not good politics to play up the sex angle. It loses the women's vote, because the feminists think she's just being exploited by the media and the non-feminists get jealous. We're not quite ready for a political platform built on 'Cunt Power' yet, but when we are, she'll get my vote."
Werner laughed. "You sound like her advance-publicity man."
"I wouldn't mind making advances toward her. It's just that I was talking to her and she told me that. I believe it, too."
"Bullshit artists always believe other bullshit artists."
"Well, believe me, stud-you'll be making a big mistake if you don't at least check her out. Come on over and talk to her a minute."
Werner's nod of agreement was more weary and polite than enthusiastic. But he reminded himself that Chuck had never yet pointed him in the direction of any female he hadn't found at least interesting. "Okay, where is she?"
"They're meeting in the Blue Room. It ought to be breaking up in a few minutes."
"Then I have time for another drink."
"Dutch courage?"
"No, just Austrian arrogance."
"Since when have you ever needed any of that?"
"Cunt."
"You said it."
Her name was Elizabeth Lawrence, and as soon as he was introduced to her Werner did recall having seen both the name and her picture in print before.
"I feel better about my new nationality already," he said gallantly, "just knowing that someone like you is involved in our government."
"I've been told you became an American citizen this past summer. Congratulations," the Congresswoman replied warmly.
She was soft-spoken and diminutive, a surprise considering her reputation as a tough and resourceful political adversary. The media had dubbed her the sexiest woman in national politics, apart from the high-priced call girls who serviced the men on Capitol Hill, and looking at her now, Werner couldn't dispute her probable right to the title. For a rather petite woman her bosom was nothing short of enormous. It would have been impossible for her to disguise her assets there even had she wanted to, which she obviously did not. The sensational cleavage and double thrust of bosom arrested men's eyes and had something of a hypnotic effect on them. Werner was no exception.
"Do you ski?" he asked her in mid-ogle.
She laughed pleasantly. "I'm afraid not. Everything with me seems to be an uphill battle. That leaves out skiing."
"Suppose I teach you a few of the fundamentals? It might just help you to win a skier's vote sometime."
"I'm from Ohio, not Colorado, unfortunately," she said. "But I certainly wouldn't mind a morning's exercise out on those beautiful slopes, in the fresh air and sunshine."
"How about tomorrow, then? Chuck Trevor would be glad to bring you up to my lodge."
"Your lodge? The one on top of the mountain? I was admiring it from the balcony of my room ... that sounds lovely."
"I'll expect you about nine, then."
"Yes, thank you, Werner ... I think you'll make an excellent American citizen."
After excusing himself, Werner sought out Chuck Trevor and cheerfully admitted that he'd been wrong.
"You must be losing your touch," the public relations man said. "How come you didn't line her up for tonight?"
Werner ruefully shook his head. "The way I feel today, I could be castrated and never know my balls were missing. They need a night's rest to get back into form, just like the rest of me does."
Elizabeth Lawrence was, if nothing else, a refreshing change from the type of woman Werner usually met at the resort. She possessed and exploited a degree of power with which he could be only remotely familiar. There was really nothing quite like political influence. Money couldn't buy it, at least not directly, and charm was just a basic requirement. It took more than both those things. Elizabeth certainly had put it all together successfully, and, having been widowed for several years, with no children, she didn't even have man or family behind her. She was only one of seven female members of the House of Representatives.
She looked young and attractive in the fashionable but not ostentatious skiing outfit she wore next morning.
He decided to try the same ploy on her that had succeeded so outrageously with Christina Blake. "Why don't you let me help you into something more practical? Your outfit's very pretty, but it's more for apr�s ski than for falling down in the snow the way all beginners do."
"Hmmmmm ... you've become Americanized in record time, I see. A brand-new citizen, and already he's making suggestive suggestions."
"I didn't mean to."
"I'll bet! But with that sexy accent of yours, you don't have to. It must do half the work of getting a woman into bed for you. Your accent's just right for a screen lover."
"I prefer making love on beds ... screens are so uncomfortable and unerotic."
Elizabeth laughed. "A witty ski instructor. What more could I ask for?"
The well-oiled machinery of seduction was in gear again. Werner was rested up and raring to go again, a night's sleep sans sex having done wonders for his weary libido of the day before.
He dug a jumpsuit out of his well-stocked closet and handed it to her. "Try this on," he urged.
"Where do I undress?"
"Right here. But if you insist on privacy, the bathroom is over there ... "
She didn't move. "Help me unzip."
It was only a question of exactly when they were going to get it on together after that: where was settled, how would take care of itself, and why no longer mattered.
"I love your breasts," he said boldly once they were freed from her clothing. "I never saw such large nipples."
"Are they like two eggs sunny-side up? That's what someone once told me."
"I'm jealous already, if you served them to that someone."
"Don't be," she said. "There's plenty left over for you. Suck them-if you want to."
He had to force his mouth wider open than usual just to cram the reddish-brown nipples inside ... there was just too much tit there for one guy to handle!
"I don't usually do this sort of thing," Elizabeth gasped as he sucked on one of the juicy, throbbingly responsive cones of flesh. "It's too risky for a woman in my position-I hope you'll be discreet about it!"
He let up on his steady suction and tonguing long enough to speak. "Don't worry. The only position I want you in is horizontal-legs up and cunt wide open!"
"You're the instructor," she laughed. "Just tell me what you want me to do. Or, better yet-show me!"
It took Werner no time at all to shed his clothes, mount her, and make his entry into her body.
"I think you ought to run for President," he panted as they quickly established a pounding coital rhythm, their bodies moving together in beautiful, instinctive synchronization.
"Only if you agree to be my Secretary of the Interior," she moaned.
She shrieked in exquisite pain when Werner drilled his dick straight up into her body and her vagina finally gave way completely to his impaling possession of it, opening wider, deeper, than she was sure it had ever responded to any man. The brutally male mass of flesh and blood and swollen, rigid erectile tissue rammed between her stretched-open labia and buried itself forcefully in the very depths of her cunt. Elizabeth couldn't believe that anything so devastating could also feel so good. She was as full of cock as she could be-and she loved it!
Werner knew exactly what she must be going through. Elizabeth was one of those fairly inhibited types who rarely took the initiative in a seduction and who thought it wasn't lady-like to respond whole-heartedly to a good, thorough screwing ... he'd change her attitude toward that, though, before they were through. Women might be slightly uneasy about the sheer size of his equipment at first, but once it was in them and fucking away they just couldn't get enough of it. They all begged him to screw them until they couldn't sit down-except on his dick! None of them ever seemed to get too sore for that!
"You're a hot one," he told Elizabeth. "A hot-cunted bitch who loves to get fucked!"
She barely heard his lewd remarks, except as blurred speech penetrating the ringing in her ears as she grew half-dizzy and sick with pure lust. He was fucking her hard now. He'd pull that horse prick of his almost all the way out of her, forcing her, in degraded response, to tighten her cunt muscles around the shaft and betray how badly she wanted it to remain inside her ... then, using his muscular weight to obtain sufficient leverage, Werner would drive his tool all the way back up into her shudderingly receptive pussy again, until he was buried in cunt to the balls, the force of the thrust squeezing the breath from Elizabeth's body. But she did love it! She was responding to it greedily, gloating in the most intense, overpowering erotic pleasure her body had every surrendered itself to! He screwed the elegant Congresswoman like a rutting stallion, and she found herself answering his fucking like a horny mare. The very discomfort of the withdrawal-reinsertion process, the very shame of how whorishly she was behaving with this complete stranger, became an inseparable part of her joy in the lewd coupling. Guilt-fear-reluctance-reserve-had all fled from her, to be replaced by only one thing: a desire to be fucked-filled-driven insane with lust-by that mighty cock, again and again and again. All day long if it were possible!
"Oh, Werner-lover-do it to me!"
"Whatever you want, beautiful ... whatever you want, wherever you want, as long as you want it!"
His prick plunged repeatedly into the fiery depths of her pussy. She was getting wet and mushy, and as the friction increased and her vaginal fluids gushed, her wanton delight mounted along with her physiological reactions. Elizabeth begged Werner to fuck her even harder. She was floating-high on sex!
She only groaned with sensuous pleasure when she felt her vaginal walls tightening in anticipation-and then flexing rapidly in orgasm as Werner began to pump his potent spunk into her in quick, high-powered spurts. Her sperm-inundated cunt shuddered deliciously in the throes of the first good climax she'd had in months. And it wouldn't be the last, she vowed wildly as she and Werner rode each other to the summit of erotic bliss. She'd have him again before she let him so much as get out of the bed-this glorious young stud bastard!
Elizabeth wasn't just anybody's piece of ass, as she had mentioned to Werner. She was an intelligent and selective woman with more than enough attributes to make her desirable to a large segment of the male population.
Why she had responded so instantly and unthinkingly to the fairly crude predatory appeal of a man like Werner disturbed her, on and off, during the remaining two days of her stay at the resort. She knew that she wasn't wanton and promiscuous by nature-quite the opposite, as a rule. Years of self-criticism and careful career planning, along with a typically uptight Midwestern background, had taught her to be cautious to the verge of cynicism about traditionally aggressive men-especially when, like the ski instructor, they were almost too good-looking for their own good. And yet here she had allowed-encouraged, really-this handsome but blatantly obvious seducer, who was practically a professional way-layer of vulnerable women, to fuck her to orgasmic oblivion and back only hours after they'd met. There was the additional, even more unwelcome, fact to come to terms with that she had enjoyed the experience enormously and only regretted (a.) not having given herself to a man of Werner's caliber long before; (b.) being forced to leave Snow Valley after only three days of virtually nonstop screwing.
"I never performed fellatio before, you know," she confessed to Werner in the polite legal terminology that came naturally to a woman who'd started her career as an attorney-at-law. "I never thought I'd want to, either. But once I had your cock in my mouth-it felt good."
"There's nothing unnatural about sucking," Werner assured her. "It's part of the mother-child relationship, after all."
"You make giving a blow job sound almost maternal."
"It could be."
"I don't feel very maternal toward you, except maybe in the way that Jocasta felt about Oedipus."
"Ummmmm ... " He interrupted this discussion by entering her again, to show her that cocksucking was just another component part of a complete relationship between a man and a woman. After that, in an ultimate and intimate expression of his appreciation for what she'd done for him, he returned the oral favor, sinking his handsome face into the wet valley between her thighs and licking away the ravaging fever that his cock had stirred up inside her vagina.
Elizabeth shivered hotly as he began to run his tongue over her pouting pussy lips, over her clit, into the deep glistening groove of her cunt. She loved having him go down on her. She moaned, shaking her ass and tits as she let her body once again surrender to the extraordinarily exciting sensations he was giving her. It was thrilling to be licked and tongued down there! It was even better than having a good, hard, potent cock in her, she decided. Werner's talented tongue was already coaxing her toward her climax. A long-drawn-out cry of pre-orgasmic ecstasy welled up in her throat and escaped from her panting lips as her whole body tensed-and she came violently against the mouth he kept plastered wetly to her vulva. His tongue snaked over the tip of her clit repeatedly as a torrent of vaginal secretions told him how effective his cunnilingual efforts had been. He crushed his wide-open mouth against her melting cunt and sucked and drank greedily as the Congresswoman came and came and came, her lower body flexing uncontrollably and rubbing her wet cunt lips over his face as he fucked her with his tongue and her passion gradually spent itself-for the moment.
"I want you to come down to Washington to see me soon," Elizabeth told him before she left.
"I will," Werner promised.
"I'll never forget you," she said fervently.
"I'll never forget you, either," he replied automatically.
But they were both already eagerly speculating about just who and what would be next.
THREE
Werner claimed to be a student of nipples ... it pleased him to think of himself as an accomplished scholar in such an endlessly fascinating and relatively unplowed field.
He loved the form and size and thrust of female breasts in general, but his personal preoccupation was with their tips-the pink, russet, and burgundy peaks of those rounded womanly hills. When he saw a woman-just about any woman-his eyes slid down the perpendicular from her face to the outermost extensions of her body almost automatically, as though her nose and throat were a ski slope and the valley of her cleavage the obvious landing plateau ... at least for the moment.
Over the years he had developed an uncanny ability to predict the color and shape of nipples in advance, before actually seeing and sucking them. There was an infinite variety-hard little buttons, like doorbells on the knockers; the lavish fried-egg-like spreads; the grainy ink splotches like erotic Rorschach tests; and his own favorite of them all-the conicals, pointed like two overturned ice cream cones just waiting to be licked and nibbled on and devoured bit by bit. His sensuous mouth formed itself into a sort of suction cup automatically, at the mere possibility of discovering a new specimen of this type ... he claimed to be able to detect them no matter how many layers of fabric shrouded them from his sight.
"I have X-ray eyes when it comes to big tits," he boasted amiably.
Whether this was true or not, he certainly scored an impressively high percentage when it came to getting invitations to examine those tits that attracted him most and thus verify his suspicions. The women he approached with his nipple theory were invariably flattered by his admiring interest in their breasts, couched as it usually was in the surprisingly suggestive language of physiological research, and they usually agreed to let him prove or disprove his theory.
It was in the course of one of these mammary research projects that he met a lovely titian-haired girl of twenty named Beverly Jones. She hung precariously over her table in the dining room with all the ripe fullness of a pair of luscious honeydew melons about to be served whole, her breasts thrusting arrogantly against the revealing angora of her pink sweater. Werner's eyes skied over the soft rise of those boobs and zeroed in instinctively on the centered points of each hill.
Her nipples-gloriously unencumbered by anything so crassly civilized as a brassiere-were peaked, almost steeple-like in their haughty thrust. He had real difficulty restraining himself from making a direct, groping approach ... but that would mean lowering himself to the level of just another uncouth, horny male aggressor. And with her anatomy, that would probably make him just another volunteer in any army of unwanted admirers. Instead, Werner signalled discreetly but frantically to Chuck Trevor across the dining room, managing to convey with his gestures and facial expression that this was an emergency situation-penis erectus in extremis.
"She's a weekender," the sympathetic press agent finally informed the ski instructor, after he had made a quick, head-swiveling dash to the front desk in the nearby lobby and back again. "And she's here alone, as far as the desk clerk could tell ... name's Beverly Jones ... and God, what I wouldn't give for a chance to be The Devil in Miss Jones!"
"--likewise ... what a pair of boobs!" Werner said enthusiastically. "I've got to meet her."
"I'll try to get her in Fireside after dinner," Trevor promised. "Let's just hope it's not silicone or Frederick's of Hollywood's latest set of only-her-dressmaker-knows-for-sure falsies." Trevor's position as staff publicist enabled him to freely approach any guest on the pretense of inviting them to pose for photographs for the resort's brochures and advertisements. Young girls were without exception thrilled and flattered by the offer, and this access to them and the buildup Trevor invariably gave the girls about Werner Kranz had proved to be priceless aids to the skimeister in his past efforts at sexual conquest. Most of the time, it was easy as falling down a slope-or into bed.
But dinner seemed endless to Werner that evening. The moment he saw the devilishly endowed Miss Jones leave her table and be intercepted by a smiling Trevor, Werner wiped his all-but-slavering mouth with his napkin, excused himself to the others at the table, and headed straight for the Fireside Lounge.
It was located in the more remote reaches of the main building, down a series of corridors that one needed a road map to negotiate after a few drinks. By operating it as a semi-private club, it was possible to get around the state liquor authority's regulation about a four-A.M. closing time ... as a result, there were many nights when the lounge was open and filled well past dawn, with guests retreating to it from the five other bars on the premises for "one more," finally staggering like zombies into the breakfast area for an un--likely chaser of eggs and sausage before going to their rooms to sleep it off.
Werner thrived on the atmosphere of the place-and on the alluring, open-minded females who seemed to be attracted by the huge blazing fireplace that gave the lounge its name. He was its most loyal and consistently successful patron. There were days in winter when he went directly from its oak-paneled intimacy and warmth out onto the ski slopes, relying upon the freshness of the snow, the reflected morning sunlight, and the astringent, bracing air to revive him after a night devoted to cruising.
On this particular evening, however, he was determined to score and to score fast and accurately. Trevor had already slipped in to assure him of Miss Jones' imminent arrival, adding a few pertinent, appetite-whetting details he had gleaned in his brief conversation with her.
"Her name's Beverly, all right, she's from Pittsburgh, God help her, and she wants to break into show business, which means you've got half your work already done for you if you play it right." Trevor rattled off these essentials in a single panting breath.
"Bust into show business would be a better word for it, "Werner suggested with a laugh. "Can't you see her strutting down a runway in Las Vegas with nothing on above the waist but two dime-sized pasties right now?"
Trevor groaned. "Have a heart, guy-I'm already getting a hard-on fit to split my pants."
There was a perfunctory laugh from Werner to mollify the frustrated public relations man until his usefulness for the evening had been fulfilled.
Then Werner left his drink half-consumed to phone "Balloon" and make certain that the comedian had no plans to occupy the ski lodge that night.
"No, I'm going home with The Times and The Daily News," Ballard reported. "And I'll probably end up in bed with The Post in my hand." . It was an ancient New York City gag updated, and horny, tit-obsessed Werner refused to honor it with a laugh. "Make sure you pound it in your own place," he cautioned.
"What you got going, pal? It couldn't be that big, red-headed sack of melons I saw bouncing around in the dining room, could it?"
"Chuck told you?"
"He didn't have to. The minute I caught those titties, I knew you'd be all over her, like fresh snow on a slope."
"You've been around here too long for your own good. I ought to tell Maggie to shop around for a new house blimp."
"Balloon" laughed, but not without some vague interior misgivings . ... Werner Kranz had a good deal of influence with the all-powerful ownermost of it between his legs-and years of inbreeding at the resort had made all of its veteran staff members a wee bit insecure at any suggestion of carrying tales about their indiscretions to the matriarchal authority. "Balloon" was generally, and rightly, assumed to be Werner's closest male friend at the resort, but he was all too well aware that the handsome ski instructor was essentially a loner as far as the other men were concerned ... they could occupy his time and energy only in the absence of any decent representative of the opposite sex. The moment a decent or better woman entered the periphery of Werner's vision, his radar focused in on her and he seemed psychologically and physiologically incapable of ignoring her long enough to go to the bathroom; in fact, he appeared to require her acknowledgement of his interest in him even if she wasn't really all that desirable to him and even if it went no further than an exchange of knowing looks across a room.
"Those tits look big enough to ski down."
"Balloon" said, seeking Werner's renewed confidence in him. He knew that Werner was a vain stud who never tired of having his tastes and assessments praised and his conquests-past, present, or purely speculative-envied.
"You know what, Barney? I want to fuck her so bad I can taste the sperm in my mouth-there's so much of it, it's starting to back up inside me." He grunted at his own admission-because thinking and talking about sex often excited him into small fits of coughing and clearing his throat, literally taking his breath away in anticipation or frustration.
"I can tell you're horny, kid," Ballard said soothingly. "Don't worry, you've got the whole slope-both of 'em, in fact-all to yourself tonight." Barney believed that he understood how the complex young foreign stud's devious but one-track mind worked, and it was reassuring to him to know that Werner liked him at least as much as he did any other man at the resort. Werner was such an unusual combination of ingredients that it was no simple business to translate his moods into an understandable rationale ... like an Austrian recipe handed down from one chef to another over generations, Werner Kranz was a well-spiced mixture of meat and mentality subject to continuing variations. Not everyone at the ski resort appreciated or liked him, just as not every diner savored a particular sauce or entree. He could be alternately charming and sullen, carefree and morose. But one thing he was, consistently-relentlessly sexual, driven by his own insatiable lusts.
"Fucking is like breathing with me," he had once confided to "Balloon" in all seriousness. "I'll die the minute I stop doing it."
Meanwhile, the tempting twenty-year-old object of all this amorous attention and plotting was in a state of aggravated horniness, as willing and eager to be seduced as Werner was to do the seducing.
Beverly Jones thought she was a nice, old-fashioned girl-and she was, in a couple ways. She wanted a man-just one at a time-to help fill up her days and, more importantly, her nights; but Beverly wasn't about to go out chasing him, whoever he would turn out to be. No, she was too nice, too old-fashioned, too downright feminine to do that. But she wasn't too old-fashioned to take advantage of the fact that, this weekend at the ski resort, Mr. Right might come to her, without any effort on her part. Or to recognize the tension going up her spine earlier that day, after she'd checked into her room, as frustration-or to know that, if it continued, the tension was going to give her one hell of an annoying headache on her very first night here, the kind of ache no aspirin tablet could dissolve. It was a sex-hunger headache, and the tension came from deep inside her pelvis.
She tried to get rid of it first by undressing and lying back in a hot tub after her long drive here, soaking in beauty oils, luxuriously stretching her long, perfectly tanned legs, watching the way her creamy-white breasts which had excited so much attention tried to float on top of the scented water but were just too heavy, despite their firmness. Built-in water wings ... by the time she had dried her body with one of the fluffy white towels provided by the management, Beverly resigned herself to the fact that this was one of those "headaches" a young girl without a steady boyfriend got, and that could only be cured in one way.
And Beverly was modern and liberated enough to have brought the cure along with her in her suitcase. She unwound the long cord and plugged it into the electrical outlet conveniently located at the head of the bed. She tugged one end of the slip knot at her waist and her long yellow bathrobe fell open. She leaned over to fold the blanket and top sheet back, then hung the robe neatly on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. She hesitated, feeling melancholy and just a little guilty ... but a lewd tingle of anticipation ran up her spine, tightening her muscles with pleasure instead of aching frustration and need. With her conscience soothed, the anticipation pulsed more strongly inside her body, bringing a weak smile to her wide, full-lipped mouth. Beverly looked at the innocent white cord that trailed up over the edge of the mattress and ended under the big soft pillow, where she'd secreted the vibrator. She caught a glimpse of her nude body in the large mirror over the dresser, and smiled more broadly.
Her flaming red hair hung just past her shoulder blades, rippling, glossy, pampered. Her summer tan hadn't faded yet, was still smooth and deep, dark enough to make the sudden paleness where her bikini had covered her stand out like a shock. The triangular white patches over her huge breasts made her large, conical nipples look as dark as two coffee beans against the translucent skin.
Her waist was narrow, a scant twenty inches-she would have looked fragile because of her sheer slenderness if her muscle tone hadn't been so obviously taut and springy. Her belly was almost flat, with just a hint of a domed curve between her navel and the white area where her skimpy bikini bottom had shielded her skin from the sun.
And that white strip made her lush hips look wider-not that brood-mare broadness that so many women seemed to end up with when all their assets have dropped to their asses, but firm and rideable ... the upper third of her flaring ass cheeks was tanned, too, the moon-pale lower curves like a generous double scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Beverly examined herself in the mirror for another moment, trying to visualize the kind of man she wished were there in the room with her, the kind of man she hoped to meet here on this vacation. But his face wasn't clear in her imagination. For that matter, his body was fuzzy and indistinct, too, although she did know that she wanted broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a nice hard ass and a large, reliable cock.
I don't see why ... they all say I'm pretty, but why do I never meet anybody nice ... interesting ... at the bars back home? She turned full-face toward the mirror, fluffing her reddish brown pussy hairs with the fanned-out fingers of her left hand. She stared down at the thicket, noticing with satisfaction how the little scarlet-lipped crevice of her too-seldom-screwed pussy peeped shyly through the luxuriant curls. That's all they seem interested in-that and these! Beverly cupped her sensational breasts in her hands, lifting them toward her reflection and squeezing them, which made them look even bigger. The silver-dollar-sized aureoles swelled until they were over two inches across and the faint bluish traceries of veins under the clear skin showed around them.
She tried to put the foggy image of her fantasy lover out of her mind, but the idea wouldn't go away. Well, to hell with men-all of them! she thought, dismissing every one of them except the ideal, mystery man of her thoughts. lean take care of myself, as far as that goes ... better than most guys could! Beverly rubbed the ball of one thumb across a nipple, shivering as the eager little nerves inside the cone sent urgent messages down to her pussy and up to her brain. The nipple started to grow, puffing out, stiffening, reaching out like a very blunt fingertip. The taut aureole around it crinkled even tighter, and Beverly turned away from her mirror image and got into her empty double bed.
She reached under the pillow and brought out the hard plastic egg with the flat, silvery disc attached to it. She thumbed the switch on the cord. The red egg and silver disc hummed, buzzing like the interference that warns a stereo system isn't grounded correctly. The device shook just hard enough to make the edges of her fingernails turn into a blur when she picked it up. Beverly pushed the smooth, clean, ironed top sheet down to her waist, lay back comfortably, and touched the vibrating silver plate to one of her breasts.
Those cool, clean sheets felt fantastic against her just-washed naked body. She slid her long legs around under the covers, sampling the smooth textures of the resort's linen, letting the fluffy cloud of her pubic hair rub against the cotton sheet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of her skin against the sheets and the jiggling, warming, enlivening shudders the vibrator made go through her full, firm breast.
Beverly circled her nipple with the silver disc, moving the massager around in a slow, sensuous, provocative rotation. She did one breast thoroughly, then held her other breast still with her free hand while she moved the vibrator to it. Up-down-through her deep cleavage-around and around-along the outside-then back again-the shivering, shuddering reaction of her tits forcing warm blood to race to her nipples and further engorge them. She hadn't even touched the taut brownish rims of her aureoles yet, but both of the tips of her tits were fully erect and throbbing. They pointed upward and outward, accenting the exciting vee of her cleavage.
Beverly's fingers contracted involuntarily. She pressed the breast she was holding hard against the vibrator, then ran the silver disc over the nipple. A delicious tremor of icy heat ran down from the hard point, going straight to her cunt and making it contract sharply, involuntarily. Her whole crotch tightened up in a quick hot spasm, and warm sticky moisture dewed the lips of her pussy. She let a little moan of pleasure escape from her lips as her pelvis rolled forward in an automatic reflex. She pressed the vibrator harder against her nipple.
It felt wonderful! She loved it-the warm, enfolding, stroking feeling she got when that magical disc pushed her nipple flat against the firm softness of her quaking breast and made the whole mass of it jiggle like a mound of jello. Even the less-sensitive aureole seemed to kiss the silver disc possessively, to burn and pulse with hotly awakened lust. She moved the vibrator in a tight circle, never letting the disc slip off her nipple. The wild feeling of the rapidly spreading and intensifying vibrations deep in her vagina spun around the tip of her stiffening, as-yet-untouched clitoris.
Beverly's lips parted in a deep gasp of passion. She pulled the vibrator away from her breast and let herself unwind for a moment, shuddering deliciously. Oh my, oh my God! she exulted. Sometimes it feels so fucking good that I think I'm going to go off just from having my tits massaged like that ... I almost wish it didn't feel so damned good, it practically spoils you for fucking by comparison! She looked down between her shaking breasts and ran the still-buzzing vibrator along the underside of each lush tit.
The brown-tipped mounds jiggled again. Her nipples blurred before her eyes. A softer, gentler, more insidiously all-pervasive excitement and sense of pleasure flooded through her body, but it still had that tinge of electric passion she got from the direct pressure of the buzzing disc on her nipples. The demanding warmth in her pussy grew and grew. She knew, by the increasing pressure down there, that her vagina must be leaking thin, clear, oily fluid by now. She pressed her thighs tightly together to contain and increase the sensation of arousal, squeezing the turgidly responsive lips of her pussy against each other under the sheet.
Her clit was well on its way to full erection-she could tell, without having to touch it. The little sex-spike usually hid away inside its hood of flesh at the very top of her cuntal crevice-but now it was extending itself eagerly, forcing its way out into the open, begging to be touched and stimulated.
She rubbed her thighs together to coax a little more cream from her vagina, then parted her legs wide and pushed the sheet and blanket down to her knees. Even with the steady excitement of the vibrator buzzing her titties into quivering heat, she could feel the slight chill as the air hit the moisture on her pussy lips. "Mmmmmm," Beverly murmured. Her spine tingled, and her hips arched a bit off the mattress, pushing her pussy forward.
The vague vision of the man she had in her head became a little more tangible. She could almost see him leaning over the bed, reaching for her naked body, ready to gently caress her breasts, stroke the triangle of her reddish pussy fur, cup the wet bowl of her juiced-up cunt in the flat of his hand and tease its lips open with a probing, arousing finger, tickling her clit ... she pressed her thighs together again and moaned with passion.
She liked teasing herself like this, but she couldn't keep it up much longer. She began to slide the humming vibrator down her stomach toward her cunt. She let the silvery disc skate erotically across the bulge of her mons veneris, and a hot thrill of lustful sensation rewarded her at once. She gasped, really turned on now, almost as wild for it as though she actually did have a human lover there in the bedroom with her, preparing to make love to her.
Beverly teased herself a little longer, pressing the machine up and down each side of her cuntal aperture, squeezing her trembling thighs tightly against each other to contain her mounting excitement and impatience. Her pelvis shuddered, twisted from side to side on the bed. Beverly knew that the very first touch of the vibrator on her cunt itself would wind her up tighter than any clock-spring. She bit down on her lower lip and slid the vibrator steadily closer to her pussy. Her knees rose from the bed. Her feet drew up, bracing themselves against the mattress. The little red plastic egg flipped over the silver disc and the vibrator's business end pressed right against the slit of her cunt and her extended clit.
"Ahhhhh-Jesus Christ, yes!" The device bounced up and down on her pussy as she tried to hold it in place with shaking fingers. The hot, shivery feeling that rushed right through the most responsive parts of her craving body made it tighten and flex uncontrollably. Sweat sprang out on her tanned thighs, her full, heaving breasts. Beverly moaned helplessly as she grasped the vibrator with both hands and crushed the maddening disc hard against her wet pussy lips and clit. She rolled and swiveled and wrenched, pushing the mound of her cunt up and her hands, with the vibrator, down against it. The slippery-wet folds of her labia gaped obscenely open under the relentless pressure and the silver disc buzzed triumphantly against the even more sensitive flesh inside the opening. Her clit looked like a tiny firecracker about to go off. Beverly pushed the vibrator right inside her vagina and held it there as her whole body spasmed in voluptuous joy.
She was panting like a bitch in heat, and the fantasy lover had vanished from her thoughts ... it was just Beverly and the vibrator now, making love to each other in an erotic fury.
She knew it was useless to try to tease herself any longer. Even if she'd wanted to hold back and prolong this exquisite torture, her body wouldn't let her do it. It was all she could do to keep from pressing the disc against her burning clitoris and going off like a ton of TNT!
Beverly ground the massager against the mouth of her hungry pussy and fucked herself with it until the hot syrup from her loins oozed over her fingers and she almost lost her grip. Groaning, she slid the electric sex toy up toward her clit and let just the edge of the spinning, buzzing disc touch the very tip of her hard little love-bud.
It was glorious-incredible! Beverly screamed. Her body arched high off the bed. She jerked the machine away from her cunt with a convulsive movement-it was just too damn strong!
But it was too late to keep the almost intolerable stimulation from firing her come-trigger-her clit. Her whole body ached, then spasmed. She plunged two fingers brazenly inside her cunt and frigged herself frantically to keep it going. The silver disc was buzzing loudly against her other palm when she recklessly slammed it against her clit again while fingering herself. Beverly felt her vagina opening and closing rapidly around her fingers, like a baby's greedily sucking mouth-sucking for the cock that, unfortunately, wasn't there. She came at last, her entire body galloping in a wild rhythm, her tits exploding, her nipples shooting skyrockets of sensation through the rest of her body, her cunt gushing clear fluid and contracting so forcefully that her fingers were pushed half-way out. She hung suspended for a long moment, the vibrator pulsing right through her body, it seemed ... then she fell back on the bed.
But it hit her again ... the forces she had stirred up deep inside her vagina were too powerful to be released in a single orgasm. She climaxed again, even more strongly than before, the sensations flying through her like an electric shock, searing her flesh. Her clit burned and throbbed until she wanted to scream at the exquisite pain ... ecstatic pleasure blasted her out of her mind. She arched off the bed again, and again and again. Her hand fell away from between her shuddering thighs and the vibrator rolled across the mattress and onto the floor. She didn't need it any more ... it had done its work only too well!
Her head turned from side to side. The arching and twisting of her body slowed until the mattress creaked less violently under her ass. With a final exultant groan, the awesome power of her orgasm faded. Beverly lay limp, spent. "Oh, my God ... I, ohhh Christ yesss!" she breathed faintly.
A long while later, her eyes fluttered open. Beverly groped along the cord and flicked the switch off. The buzzing stopped. The vibrator lay inert on the floor, but, unlike her come-devastated body, ready to go again at a second's notice. She knew that she had to get up, pull herself together, and dress for dinner. But it seemed to take an impossible amount of effort to lift her nude, orgasm-glutted body off the bed.
Part of her-difficult as it was to believe-was still not quite satisfied. Great as the vibrator always was, she knew that she needed and preferred the real thing. She wanted a man to fuck her and give her the same glorious sensations of unbridled lust! Maybe she'd meet one tonight ...
And so it was that, by the time Werner approached her in the lounge, Beverly was as hot as the flames crackling in the nearby fireplace again. Her breasts looked even larger and more tempting to the ski instructor now that he was all but inserted into the narrow valley between them ... Trevor had delivered her as promised, and it hadn't taken a smooth, good-looking operator like Werner long to make his move. Now the two of them were squeezed over a tiny table in the warm, intimately low-lit room. Beverly's breasts seemed out to burst the flimsy restraint of her sweater and knock her drink right off the table.
"Your birthday is April fourteenth?" He repeated what she'd just told him. "That means you're an Aries ... a good sign."
"I thought you were the ski instructor here, not the resident astrologer," she said lightly.
"I'm all kinds of things. I enjoy playing around with the stars-a lot of stars come here, you know."
"I'm sure they do, but I'm not a star, unfortunately ... "
"Sure you are. A whole galaxy." He ogled her body. "The Milky Way, in fact."
She slapped him playfully across his lips. "Naughty, naughty," she said. The drinks were getting to her ... she was feeling uninhibited and appallingly horny again.
The fact that she was now aware of the effect her chief physical assets had on him but wasn't particularly offended, gave Werner a hard-on immediately. It was as though any guilt he might have harbored over her innocence had been swept away by the light, teasing slap.
He took one of her hands under the table and led it to his crotch. With only the flickering fire and candlelight to illuminate the room, the other people in the bar couldn't see what was going on under their table ... besides, they were all engrossed in their own drinking or flirting, or both.
"You must have been a big star in Austria," Beverly whispered huskily as her brazenly groping fingers gauged the length and thickness of Werner's primary attraction.
"I'm just as big in America," he assured her lewdly.
There wasn't much point in wasting more time in the lounge. They were both hot for it, more than ready. As inconspicuously as he could, Werner smothered his erection under his staff jacket and led Beverly out through an emergency exit-and if this wasn't an emergency, he didn't know what could be-and toward the lodge.
Unzipping, unbuttoning, and tearing the clothes from her luscious body was an act of intense eroticism all by itself. She offered so little resistance or coyness that he decided her physical ripening had come early in her adolescence and had probably subjected her to relentless male pursuit and seduction attempts from the very beginning of her womanhood.
His own clothes fell away from the rigid thrust of his prick as though they were being shed like skin from a snake. Once clear of the fabric, his frustrated cock stood out at a thirty-degree angle from the hard flatness of his stomach and abdomen, its swollen purplish head gleaming in the faint light that came in through the windows, reflected off the snow.
"You're so hard," Beverly moaned as she caressed his cock. "And to think there aren't any bones in it at all!"
"I never saw a cock on a skeleton yet," Werner laughed.
She was already on her knees in front of him and had begun her oral descent into ecstasy as he spoke. He interrupted her greed momentarily by grasping her red hair.
"Just let me put it between those big tits for a minute, first," he pleaded, staring down at them.
"Sure." Holding her hands palms upward like a figure on an ancient Egyptian relief carving, balancing her breasts upon them as though they were being weighed on an old-fashioned scale for an entry in the Guiness Book of Sexual Records, she fed the fullness of them to his swollen penis, pressing the lush mounds against his cockshaft from either side and enveloping it completely in tit.
"Fuck me there, if you want to," she invited.
He wanted to. And his cock was long enough to make it possible for him to savor a double pleasure-slipping it upward between the soft mounds of her breasts and all the way to her warm, wet lips as she twisted her head down to help. Her pink tongue slithered out of her mouth and rubbed lightly over the agitated glans as her breasts caressed the shaft.
"You're the sign of the Ram," he reminded her in a horse whisper. "You make me feel like a very horny goat!"
"That's good ... because I want you to ram it into me!" she demanded urgently. "If you think my tits are giving your cock a ride, you haven't felt anything yet. Wait until you try the usual route!"
Rather reluctantly, he abandoned the slippery, sensuous highway between her breasts to explore the burning heat of the tunnel between her thighs. Aroused as she was, she yielded readily to his plunging invasion, and he entered her easily to the hilt. What she had said was true ... sensational as fucking her tits had been, her tight, hot, voraciously grasping and milking cunt was a veritable pathway to the stars!
"You really do have the most sensational tits I've ever seen-let along fucked," Werner told her heatedly as he began to pump his erection in and out of her tunnel of love with an energy and finesse that made her groan in delight. "But your cunt is just as wild! Too bad you can't show it all the time ... " His crotch filled with a fresh rush of hot, pounding blood, making his prick swell even larger inside her vagina, when, gasping, Beverly pressed her breasts against him, flattening them against his chest. Now that Werner's cock was safely lodged all the way into her pussy, Beverly encouraged him to fuck her with long, hard strokes. She squeezed his cockhead with her well-developed cunt muscles, gloating over the eerie, delicious sensations its throbbing response to the pressure gave her. Her hands dug into his back, urging him on. She stroked his shoulders. She let her fingers glide down the furrow of his spine to his buttocks. She pushed her pelvis up and forward, then pulled her hands down on his ass cheeks to pump his prick in and out of her at the reckless pace her aroused body required, fucking him as furiously as she had used the vibrator only two hours before. All of his turgid Austrian sex-sausage was tightly jammed into her. She was as happy as she'd ever been in her life. This was even better than anything she'd dared to hope she'd find on this vacation. All she wanted was that incredibly good, filling, satisfying, blissful feeling of this stud's cock inside her pussy, fucking it to oblivion, stroke by potent stroke. Beverly felt her whole body melting and clinging to his prick. She was so mushy, so erotically wet and squishy, down there deep in her cunt! Her hands tightened their grip on his muscular ass. More sensations lashed through both their humping bodies as they conspired to drive each other insane with sensual pleasure.
And she kept milking her own pleasure from his sturdy, reliable prick, luxuriating in the hot tight friction of his coarse male crotch hairs against her clitoris, the crushing of her cunt lips under his virile weight ... the almost violent rhythm of their fucking accelerated into total erotic abandon. Beverly moaned deep in her throat ... it was like adding oxygen to a fire that had already begun to blaze out of control! Where the feeling around her clit had been a hot, glowing pink, it was now incandescent, white-hot, melting ... Werner's cock seemed to double and triple in size as it slammed into her body with brutal male passion. She didn't know if it was swelling up to shoot, or if her cunt was desperately clamping down tighter around it. She didn't care! All that mattered was the fantastic pressure in her plugged pelvis, the tightening knot of sexual tension that had finally and decisively replaced the gnawing void of her lonely masturbatory hunger for a real, flesh and blood lover to fuck her just like this!
His face was buried in the hollow of her neck. He was panting, groaning, heaving out long, violent, effortful breaths. Beverly groaned too. She heard a voice-her voice-over the wild squishing and thumping and grunting sounds of their lust-crazed copulation. The voice seemed to be praying to some unknown deity of illicit sexuality: "Oh God, God, oh please, God damn you, God, come on, do it to me, fuck me, make me come, oh sweet Jesus, fuck me, fuck me, come, come ... ! "
It was her voice, all right-shameless, brazen, exulting in this totally fulfilling act of passion. Beverly dug her fingernails savagely into the cheeks of Werner's pumping ass. Her legs shuddered around his powerful thighs. Her arms were locked around him, holding every inch of his cock prisoner inside her twat. She threw her cunt up against the descending piston of his prick. She screamed with lust. It was only a matter of moments-hot, sweaty, breathless, mindless moments of animalistic fucking-before they both climaxed, the fever in their flesh intensified to the critical point by their lewd conversation earlier and the quick culmination of a relationship so eagerly anticipated and still only an hour old.
With a grunt of bestial satisfaction, even Werner had to admit defeat. His apparently superhuman sexual stamina gave out at last, and he peaked. Beverly knew that he was ejaculating inside her. She could count each hot wet burst flying up into her cunt, the stiffness, the throbbing release, the heat, the rigidity of his prick as it erupted inside her all telling her that she had driven him half berserk with lust and that her body was going to suck every drop of his virility from him now. She welcomed the flood of semen with a cry of joy. A dam burst within her. She came, too, at least as hard as she had with the vibrator. The tension unwound. It poured out. It inundated her. Another hard, heavy thrust of Werner's cock ignited her clit. It exploded. She melted and froze, dripped and congealed. Werner slowed down, then stopped fucking altogether, but the marvelous feelings in her pussy didn't fade away for some time. She was almost delirious with pleasure by the time her mind and body finally relaxed and assured her that it was indeed over and that she had survived the sublime experience.
"Are you going to teach me to ski, too?" she asked, after the sweet tremors had relinquished their claim to her body and she could trust herself to speak.
"Yes ... but first of all," he said quietly, as drained by the fuck as she was, "you'll have to familiarize yourself completely with the equipment."
Jumping easily over her supine body, he straddled the width of her shoulders and rested his buttocks on the twin cushions of her bosom. He could feel her big nipples dent the lean firmness of his ass cheeks as he took his limp cock in his fist and stroked himself into a fresh erection only inches from her wide, fascinated eyes and panting mouth.
"Here," he explained, sliding his cock along the line of her parted lips, "is the ski pole-Werner
Kranz's own custom-made design. It is used to give you mobility as well as stability on the slopes."
She sucked as much of it, still glistening and pungent-tasting from having been inside her, into her mouth as she could without blocking her throat.
"You're an excellent pupil," he said. "I can see-and feel-that much already."
It was almost too big to get all the way inside her mouth, yawn and strain though she might. Beverly groaned. How far down did she have to go to turn him on? Keeping her tongue down, out of the way, she moved her lips further along the huge hard rod, backing up, sliding lower around it, stopping the steady downward advance of her luscious lips only long enough to renew the saliva-slickness she needed to keep the long glide down Werner's tremendous penis smooth and easy.
She felt an astonishing reawakening of lust blaze up between her thighs. The huge head of the cock pressed against the top of her throat. She pulled back, adjusting her angle of attack, holding her lips taut around the thick shaft, and made juicy circles with her tongue around it as she pushed her mouth down again.
Werner moaned. She was turning him on, all right! Her sense of accomplishment spurred her on to attempt the actual deep-throating. His cock plunged in and out of her throat, almost blowing her head off with each fierce, horny lunge. But she held on and rode it, sucking furiously. Werner's hands ran up and down her legs. He placed one hand over the plump wet mound of her pussy and rubbed it. His breath burned against her cunt lips. She pushed her crotch toward his head blindly as they slipped into a sixty-nine position, and ground her pussy against his face as she deep-throated him with increasing confidence and skill. A creamy rush of fluid from deep inside her vagina told her that her lover was tonguing its lips lightly. Her entire cunt heated up as though his breath on it were a bellows feeding air to a fire.
She didn't even have to consciously think about the mechanics of cocksucking any longer, just let nature take its course as her mouth pumped up and down on that enormous prick. All her attention was riveted on the male hands that pressed her body against his face. Beverly threw her legs over Werner's shoulders and shoved her cunt against his mouth. He thrust his cock deep into her mouth and throat-and his tongue deep into her twat.
Beverly gulped. The spongy mass of Werner's glans swelled up, pulsed, then swelled again ... it plunged in and out of her lewdly sucking lips ... it fucked her throat fast and hard and it kept growing, threatening to choke her. She hardly had room to breathe around it. She couldn't lick it fast enough. The thrusts and swelling and the rotating, pistoning motion of his prick were out of her control. Beverly felt her mouth automatically sucking, her face being willingly raped by that steely cock. Her lips milked greedily at the throbbing length of shaft. She rubbed a wet tongue all over it ... that slowed the pulsations for a second-and then Werner Kranz came in her mouth.
A torrent of thick warm semen filled her mouth. Beverly swallowed quickly. She wanted to pull her head back, but the jism was already running down into her throat and backing up, trickling down her chin from the corners of her overloaded mouth. She gulped again, desperately, and more viscous male fluid bathed her throat and tongue. Werner's fingers dug deeper into her ass cheeks as he fucked her with his tongue. She heard him moan at the luscious taste of her own cuntal secretions ... she kept swallowing, trying to milk the rest of the semen from that inexhaustible, still-pumping cock. After half-a-dozen strokes, the last few drops oozed out of his come-slit. Beverly licked the head of his cock, wanting it to give her even more of the rich potent cream. She sucked until the agitated cockhead throbbed hotly and swelled up to fill her entire mouth-but no more come emerged from it. She had drained him at last.
FOUR
No one was surprised when Beverly moved into the lodge for the remainder of her stay. It certainly never bothered Maggie that her skimeister lured so many of the female guests into his quarters overnight or for whole weeks at a time, as long as they had already paid in full for the room they had reserved. None of them got a refund, although one or two had actually had the gall to ask ... "Think of it as a stud fee, dear," Maggie had bluntly told one such stingy bitch. End of discussion.
He IS good for business, in more ways than one, she thought, after a blushing Beverly had informed her that she wouldn't be using her room for the rest of the weekend. The girls are intrigued by him-the bastard!
Once Werner had accomplished his initial entry into a newcomer's lovely body, he assumed exclusive territorial rights to it for the duration of her visit to the resort. Nothing infuriated the usually amiable Austrian stud more than to discover his latest conquest in the arms of another employee or guest ... it meant social ostracism from the Kranz circle for both offenders. His easily bruised male ego amused some of the girls, especially the more promiscuous ones, annoyed others, and enlisted still others in a kind of unofficial club composed of Kranz-tested-and-endorsed cunts ... the younger they were, the prouder they tended to be of having gone to bed with him.
Beverly's stay was only a brief one, increasing her chances of meeting the strict standards of (temporary) fidelity that Werner expected from his conquests. He was something of a male chauvinist, after all-firmly settled in a traditionally European attitude about male-over-female dominance ... it was surprising how many women still cheerfully submitted to such an outdated concept of life and love in an age of alleged sexual liberation.
"You're a tougher teacher out here than you are inside, in bed," Beverly complained as Werner devoted the following morning to teaching her the rudiments of skiing.
"When I make love, I make love," he replied. "When I teach skiing, I teach skiing."
"Couldn't we combine the two?" she asked hopefully.
"Too cold," he laughed.
"Well, I've already decided I like the lovemaking lessons a hell of a lot better."
"That's because you're such an apt pupil. We'll practice some more later on today."
"Thank God ... why can't we at least ride up on the lift, and ski down?"
"The lift is for Alpine skiing. I'm teaching you the Nordic style. It's simpler and safer. like having oral sex instead of regular intercourse. Birth control still isn't one-hundred-per-cent reliable, you know."
"Mine is. Anyway, I like to live dangerously."
"It would take weeks before you'd be ready to go down even that mild slope over there. You have to learn to 'read' the snow, and you're only going to be here two more days-alas."
"If I survive today, that is. My legs ache already."
"I'll give them my special massage later ... you'll live to make love with me many, many times again, my dear-that I can promise you."
"Broken-legged love, probably ... I can just see us now, me with two plaster casts thrown over your shoulders-helpless-at your mercy."-
A smile furrowed Werner's tanned face. "There's no way skiing can damage the parts you need to fuck with," he assured her.
"Right. I forgot-no bones in your cock. What a relief!"
His arms stole around her waist as he tried to position her skis correctly for the lesson. "Just move the skis around any way you feel like it-vertically, laterally, however they feel most comfortable, at first."
"That doesn't sound like skiing-more like just wiggling my legs and ass around."
"You have to get used to having such long things attached to you. It's an unnatural sensation at first."
"I had a pretty long thing attached to me last night and it felt perfectly natural."
Laughing, Werner shook his head. "It's ski-instruction time now, Beverly," he re-emphasized. "Get your mind off sex for just one moment, if you can. Come on, walk around a little ... take sideways steps and make sort of wagon-wheel patterns in the snow. Watch me ... like this." Beverly did as she was told, circling about awkwardly, leaving ski imprints in the snow like the spokes of a wheel. "Good," Werner said. "Now reverse yourself and do it in the opposite direction." Beverly again obeyed his instructions.
They went on to the combination step-turn. Inevitably, she fell down.
"Werner!" she complained. "Help! I can't get off my ass!"
"Take it easy, it's nothing. Just sit down and put the skis out in front of you. Now take your hands out of the pole straps and lean forward ... see how simple it is?" He was watching the way her breasts thrust against her parka and threatened to topple her over when she leaned forward as he had told her to. It was getting difficult to keep his mind on teaching. "Now grab your poles again and kneel on just one leg ... all you have to do now is pull yourself up."
"But I keep losing my balance ... "
"That's because your body is all tits," he laughed. "You're going to have to learn to lean farther back than other, less endowed women, to compensate."
"Bastard!" She steadied herself on his forearm and laughed helplessly, both at her predicament and at what he had said. "I still want to ride the lift at least once," she insisted.
"Only if you ride it both ways."
"All right ... that sounds like fun. I can use the rest after last night."
"But it's against the rules."
"Whose rules?"
"Mine, of course," Werner said mock-seriously.
"Uh-oh. That's worse than if it were just a state law or something." She had come to understand him quite well in such a very short time.
"Women are impossible as skiers," Werner said in feigned disgust.
"Men are just impossible, period," Beverly retorted.
But once they were alone together inside the ski lodge again, they got along splendidly, the war between the sexes forgotten for the time being. Once again it was nonstop fucking-pure, unadulterated, lustful fucking, shameless, animal. Beverly tried to get Werner's cock into her the moment they were both undressed, but this time he stopped her, and, instead, rolled her onto her back. Werner kissed her hotly on the lips, his hands instinctively starting to rove over her lush body. Beverly hissed with fierce delight, ground her hips up almost masochistically against his groin. When he tweaked her nipples, then sucked them, she went into a tailspin of uncontrollable lust!
And when Werner touched her cunt, sought out her begging-for-a-screwing clitoris with his lips and tongue and teeth, the girl wailed in eerie erotic agitation, spreading her legs wide and bringing up her knees to fully expose her vulva to him in a gesture of complete and impatient surrender. "Fuck me!" she demanded, her voice hoarse with desire. "Fuck me now, Werner, now! I can't wait! Honest to God-I can't fucking wait another minute, I need it so bad!"
A moment later he had mounted her, too aroused himself by her sensuous nudity and unashamed provocativeness to tease her. Their mouths still welded together in a deep, tonguing kiss, Beverly's groping fingers seizing his prick and guiding it home inside her wet pussy, Werner drove his tool into her super-responsive twat with one slow, steady, dead-on stroke. It brought a gasp from both of them as he hit bottom in her cunt.
"Oh, God!" Beverly cried. "Oh, dear God in heaven ... good! It's so fucking good with you, Werner! It's never been like this for me, I swear! You make me feel so shameless-so erotic-so animal! I love it when you ball me, I really love it! Fuck me! Hard! Make me come with that huge hard ski pole of yours! Make me come all over the fucking place, again and again! Fuck me!"
As of that moment, nothing else, the outside world, nothing! mattered to either of them. She was primal woman-he was primal man. Their primal screams of mutual ecstasy reverberated from the walls of the lodge as they joined their bodies in a frenzy of desire.
Werner supposed-when, later, he could think it all over coolly in retrospect-that every man who's ever lived and loved has cherished that eternal pornographic dream of finding a woman so avid for sex that she'd do anything to win the sublime privilege of having his big, hard prick plunging in and out of her insatiable cunt. Usually it's only the male of the species who harbors such rampaging sexual fantasies and secret urges, who absolutely has to have juicy cunt to bury himself in every so often or he'll die ... the woman remains the wooed and not the wooer.
But damn it all to hell! goes the man's dream. Wouldn't it be fantastic if just once in my life the woman would come whimpering around, begging for it, crawling for cock? If I could be the fucking stud sex object for once?!
And here Werner, who'd certainly had more than his fair share of eager females, was blitzed right out of his skull at this young girl's frenzied response to him, at having Beverly Jones, a "nice" girl under any other circumstances, thrashing and panting and moaning in her helpless, undeniable need for him to fuck her ... they fucked, all right. God, how they fucked! As though the public-address system in the inn had just announced that the world would end in an hour. like filthy, rutting animals meeting and mating in the forest, male met female and possessed her savagely, rocking the bed, banging the walls, making the springs in the mattress squeal and groan in protest. They were balling so furiously, so mindlessly, that an avalanche could've descended upon the lodge and caved its peaked roof in over their heads, and they'd never have missed a stroke as they literally fucked each other into infinity! Beverly needed cock! Werner needed cunt! It was as simple and basic and as healthily vulgar as that!
And if they didn't get it, it wasn't going to be for lack of trying.
The bestial grunts and barks and slurps of passion that abraded Beverly's throat were an ego-hyping music to Werner's ears. He believed the girl when she said that no other man had done this to her, that he was giving her a satisfaction unique in her (admittedly limited) experience up to this point. When he was done with her, she'd never be able to give herself to another man without comparing him to Werner Kranz-and inevitably finding the poor guy wanting! She didn't mind his brutal use of her body in the least ... on the contrary, she reveled in it. She couldn't get enough of it. She responded to each thrust with an equally savage back-thrust of her cunt, their pelvises slamming and grinding together unsparingly.
Beverly came and came, each new climax announced with a wild grunt and shriek of excitement, with a new flood of cries, curses, encouragements-and pleas for more. "Don't stop!" she begged. "Oh, God, Werner-don't stop now!"
But finally, their bodies running wet with sweat, her breasts and belly and thighs a slippery mass of heated flesh against his harder masculine frame, Werner couldn't keep up the pace, couldn't wait any longer before giving his swollen cock and aching nuts the relief they so desperately required. Out it came, hot and hard, a spurting torrent jetting deep into her thirstily sucking vaginal mouth like a geyser, despite his recent depletion in this very same bed the night before.
"You monster," Beverly chuckled breathlessly, as they lay panting in each other's arms afterward. "You beautiful, horny, filthy monster! The way you fucked me! It was fantastic-absolutely beyond my wettest, wildest dreams! I feel so sore-so fucked out-so deliciously sore it's almost as good as coming just to be able to still feel what your cock did to me in there! Dear God, I'm afraid I'll turn into a nympho after this weekend, I'm never going to be able to get enough of this ... I'll ... "
But she didn't finish the sentence. Once again, their superhuman sexual labors took their physical toll. Even though it was just a little past noon, with bright sunshine streaming through the windows of the lodge, they slept ... Beverly pillowed on Werner's chest, enfolded in his arms-a dreamy, grateful smile on her lips.
They couldn't rest for long: the extended holiday weekend was a busy time for Werner. His corps of instructors was regularly enlarged on ordinary weekends; over holiday periods it swelled to at least twenty. It took up much of the time he usually devoted to personal instruction-in bed or on the slopes-just to supervise such a large staff and ensure a level of quality in keeping with his high professional standards. The reputation of the resort depended on it, to a large extent.
"I'm known all over the skiing world," Werner remarked to Ballard, not boasting, for once, but simply stating a fact. "I want to make sure I'm known as excellent, not as a has-been."
"You are, kid," Barney assured him. "You're the best there is."
Werner accepted such blatant flattery as no more than his due.
"That girl, Beverly Jones-I wonder if we could do something for her to get her started," he thought aloud, as they watched her dutifully going through the practice patterns Werner had shown her earlier on her own. "In show business."
"You've already done the important thing," Ballard cracked just a shade enviously. "You put her on all fours and milked her."
"She's an unusual girl," Werner said noncommittally.
"Only above the waist."
"Careers iri show business are being made these days on a lot less."
"Sure ... look at the tits on me, and where have they got me!"
The self-deprecation appealed to Werner. He threw a mock punch at the chubby social director, then ducked to avoid the counterattack.
"You're going to go places," Werner promised. "All you have to do is stick with me." It was a promise he had made many times over the years. Neither man was exactly thrilled by the prospect of reaching retirement age as an employee of the ski resort.
"It's too easy, staying on here," Ballard reflected aloud. "The food, the booze, the broads, the celebrities, the recognition, the easy applause-how the hell can a lazy ass like me say, 'I don't want it any more, I'm chucking it all and heading for New York or Hollywood to take my chances with a thousand others who all think they're God's gift to the entertainment world'? "
Werner diplomatically said nothing. The prospect of stagnating in comfortable mediocrity and obscurity was too painful to think about for long. And he didn't have to. There were always distractions like Beverly to help him avoid such self-contemplation.
That night they explored new territories-at Beverly's fevered request. It was as though she were determined to have Werner in every way humanly possible, while she still could. She protested at first when Werner insisted on going down on her before the main event, which she was anxious to get to. But once he had peeled back her delectable pussy lips and wrapped siphoning lips around her clit, she quickly changed her mind about cunnilingus being a poor substitute for direct screwing.
"Oh, oh Werner, darling," she gasped, clamping and unclamping those long, lithe legs around his head in a steady rhythm right along with the probing of his tongue into her twat, "the way you eat me! It's the most exciting thing in the world for me-I want it to last forever, but I can't, I already feel as though I were coming! Oh God! Yes ... I am ... fuck! ... I'm coming, already, I'm coming in your mouth, I can't stand it, it's so good, I can't, I can't ... "
She begged him to stop after her first orgasm, but Werner kept at her, licking and sucking and relentlessly tongue-fucking her snatch. Once Beverly's body started climbing the steep slope of orally-induced ecstasy again, there was no stopping her. Her second explosion was even stronger, more prolonged, than the first ... especially when Werner, concentrating his tongue action on her clit as she came, eased a thumb between her dripping pussy lips and deep into her cunt, a fingertip sliding between her thighs and teasing and penetrating her ass-hole a moment later, helping her to reach orgasm.
Then, before Beverly could even get her breath back, he was on top of her, his prick slowly sliding in and out of her mushy cunt, his fingertip still supplying a plunging counterpoint in her anus as he fucked her.
"Darling, oh darling," she croaked. "If you only knew what that does to me! But you do, you bastard! You do know how you're turning me on!" She paused, gasping for breath, then added with an unexpected seriousness, in mid-stroke, "Sometime, Werner, when I feel ready to try it ... you've got to do that to me."
"Do what to you?" he grunted.
"Put your cock in there. In my behind. My ass ... you've got to fuck my ass. Nobody ever has, but I've heard about it. Other women have told me they come like crazy that way! Everything-I want to try everything there is with you before this weekend's over. Oh, God-do it now! Now, Werner! I want to! I've just got to find out what it's like to get ass-fucked! Take your cock out of my cunt and ram it up my ass! No-be gentle, baby. But do it. I know you've done it to other women. So do it to me. Now, Werner-oh, do it now! I'm really hot for it, I'm ready to try anything!"
"Are you serious? You'd really like to give it a try?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me up the ass, darling! Show me how!"
He reared up on his elbows to pull his cock slowly out of her. It was slick and glistening with her vaginal fluids: they wouldn't need any artificial lubrication for this spur-of-the-moment experiment with anal intercourse. Beverly had guessed correctly-Werner had done it to plenty of other women, and he loved it. He'd assumed that Beverly just wasn't that kind of liberated fuck yet. How wrong he'd been ... after what they'd already done together, he should have known better than to underestimate her erotic appetites, her lust for any kind of sexual sport.
"It takes two, baby," Werner panted. "Without your cooperation, it won't be anything at all ... you've got to relax your sweet ass and not fight it. You've really got to want my cock up your ass!"
"I do, oh I do!" she swore wildly. "Give it to me! Quick!"
She twisted away from him, rolled onto her belly. Her face flat against the pillows, her breasts cushioning her torso, her hands under her belly toying with her pussy, she squirmed her ripe buttocks at him. "Please!" she groaned. Werner couldn't have refused the brazen invitation even had he wanted to. It was as though a blowtorch had been applied to his balls. His cock was burning hot, frantic to be plunged into something, anything, and fuck itself to ejaculation. He had to fuck her! Cunt, ass-it didn't matter. As long as he could come in her!
But he forced himself to go slowly, to restrain his pounding lust, to get Beverly relaxed and receptive. Gently, he kissed her shoulders, her back, ran his lips and tongue down the indentation of her spine all the way to the cleft of that temptingly proffered ass. She moaned, writhed, pushed her bottom more urgently up toward him. "Fuck me, Werner-I want you in there, I really do!"
"You're going to have me in there in a minute." Werner gathered up the extra pillows, raised her, shoved the pillows under her tummy to cushion in and raise her ass high off the mattress. Then he spread Beverly's legs wide, arranging them carefully. Her buttocks parted. He stared down lustfully at the puckered pink rosebud of her anal opening, thrilled by the thought that no one had ever penetrated it until now. He was going to be the first. Her anal virginity was his to take.
She sucked in her breath with a loud hiss and jerked her hips when he pushed his index finger into her ass, loosening it up ... in and out he plunged it, feeling her sphincter relax and accept the penetration. Then he put a second finger inside. Beverly tensed, groaned.
"If two fingers hurt you, think what it's going to feel like when my big prick gets in there," Werner warned.
"I don't care! I can take it-I'll be all right, Werner. I want you to do it, no matter what. No matter what happens, even if I never see you again, we'll at least have shared this everything-together." He probed deeper. "Yes, oh yes!" she gasped. "That's enough, baby. I feel loose enough to take it now. Put it in me. Your big, beautiful stud prick. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Put it in. Fuck my ass with it. Fuck me in the ass now. Do it!"
A raging fire cauterized Werner's loins as he crawled closer to her waiting buttocks and pressed the wet, slippery snout of his prick against her smooth anal pucker. "There," he whispered, pushing a little. "How does it feel? Too big? Too hard? I can still stop ... "
She sucked in another lewd, rasping breath. "It feels great! Just big and just hard enough! Do it! I'm ready, I want it! Just do it, the way you did it to those other women! Fuck my ass for me!"
He became pure brute then: her words, the inviting, wanton wriggling of her ass against his crotch, his frustration, all conspired to complete the rape of her ass-hole. As his cock pressed forward, spread the tiny opening, slipped inside the tight virginal sphincter muscle, Beverly groaned, buried her face in the mattress-and pushed back recklessly to assist the penetration. His cockhead pushed through the ring of yielding, stretching muscle and plunged inside her anus. He heard Beverly's suffocated grunts of pain as he slid into her, inch by inch. She thrashed, her anal muscles tightening in an instinctive attempt to force his cock back out again-but it was now too late for such second thoughts. Werner felt his smothered cock force its way through the clamping tissues and bore steadily deeper into her anus ... and, as the pain faded and the wonder of having her ass violated for the first time registered in her apprehensive mind, Beverly surrendered to the sheer animalism of it and cooperated fully in the perverted use he intended to make of her body. Werner felt her ass relax and seem to suck his cock deeper inside it. He was in her all the way! Buried to the balls in her behind! Slowly-cautiously-he began to retreat. Beverly groaned-not in pain, but in protest at being deprived of even a few inches of his cock. Werner thrust forward, deep into her again. He began to fuck her. And she loved it!
"It's good, so good!" she cried in disbelief. "I never would've believed it could feel this wild! Oh, Werner! I feel so evil-so deliciously perverted! I want to keep your cock in there forever, all the way up my ass, actually fucking my ass! Oh, I only wish there were two of you, so you could fuck me in the cunt while you're doing it this way, too ... I'm finger-fucking myself, Werner, I can't help myself, I'm just too turned on! Do you ... will you ... ? "
"What, baby? What do you want me to do?" he grunted.
"Are you going to-shoot off in there? I want you to-I want to feel it."
"I not only can-I fully intend to!" He groped about under her body with one hand, found her cunt, began fingering her hot, swollen clit while she diddled herself furiously further down, holding the lips of her pussy wide open with both her hands and rubbing the sticky flesh between them as hard as she could. And all the while, her ass milked his plunging cock. "And when I come in you," Werner gloated salaciously, driving hard and fast now, "you will, too. You won't be able to stop yourself. You'll come in a fucking flood."
"Yes, darling," she groaned, gritting out the words, "talk to me like that while you fuck my ass, mean and dirty ... talk to me, get me even hotter, make me come just listening to you, you filthy big-dicked son of a bitching stud! Tell me how my ass feels to fuck ... is it tight? Tighter than my juicy cunt?"
"It feels great," he croaked, rocking back and forth on his knees even faster now. "It's tight, so God-damned tight it's scraping the skin right off my cock! It feels like I'm caught in a vise-a hot, wet, fleshy vise-crushing my penis-as though you wanted to tighten up so hard that your ass'll pull my dick right off-you bitch! Hot-cunted, hot-assed, fuck-loving bitch!"
"Oh, darling, darling! Yes, tell me! Anything you want, I'll do anything, treat me like a cheap whore, just use my body, fuck it any way you want to! Your fingers! In my cunt! Ahhhhh-yesssss!Rub me there, rub me hard, make it hurt! Fuck me hard, too! Hard and rough! Never stop screwing me! Fuck your perverted little whore. Fuck her dirty little ass! Fuck it shitless!"
It was just too much. Her body humping back at his so abandonedly-her legs flexing uncontrollably-her ass-hole tightening and squeezing her cunt muscles compressing around the fingers he had buried in her sopping-wet pussy-and then, to hear her talk like that--! Werner shot. Deep into her ass, hard and hot, and so wet that it suddenly felt as though he'd plunged his exploding prick into a bowl of warm, still-congealing jello. Each fierce spurt made Beverly squeal and thrash about in sheer ecstasy, and she fucked her ass back at him with savage greed, oblivious to pain, coming just as he'd promised her, in a cuntal tidal wave, all over his fingers, the sheets, everything ... again and again, helpless. All that remained in either of their minds was sensation-voluptuous excess and sensual indulgence-physical sensation for sensation's sake alone! Pure sex! Animal response!
Finally, it was over-even this sublime erotic experience had to end.. Exhausted, they slept, Werner's depleted prick still lodged inside her anus.
Beverly left to go back home in New York City on that Tuesday morning, after another night of total erotic abandon-promising, as they all did, to return to Snow Valley and, of course, to Werner, as soon and as often as possible.
That night he lay awake, reviewing first the weekend's events and then his life in general, disturbed by the absence of a partner to divert his thoughts. Werner really didn't care for introspection despite a habitual tendency to indulge in it on the rare occasions when he was sleeping alone. That was the second most important reason why he so rarely allowed himself to end up in bed alone. The most important reason lay like a serpent in repose, along the flat of his abdomen under the sheet that was all that covered his naked body. Despite all the furious fucking he and Beverly had done all weekend, he was still horny. He reached down and fondled his insatiable cock as he meditated abstractly, examining its smooth surface with inquisitive fingers and the sensitive flat of his palm. In a matter of moments, he had aroused it to full turgidity and begun a slow hydraulic pumping of its skin around its hardened, inflexible core, grunting with satisfaction at the first act of masturbation he'd had to do in quite some time. Jerking off shifted his train of thought onto a much more pleasant track as though his prick were a magic wand inside his fist, bringing him down to earth again, from the lofty sphere of the theoretical and the aesthetic to the strictly human level of the erotic, the lewd, and the lascivious.
Beverly ... big tits ... milk jugs ... suck ... fuck ... juicy hot cunt ... fuck my ass ... ass, ass, ass ... coming ... Christ! ran the indistinct but highly stimulating thread of his heated thoughts as he whacked himself quickly and efficiently to orgasm. His climax erupted like so much lava over his belly, wetting the wiry thatch of his pubic hair, bringing a deep groan of blissful satisfaction from his lips. He wiped himself off with a towel, slipped back into bed, and shut off all conscious thought altogether as his relaxed body finally went off into a deep, dreamless sleep to prepare itself for the further exertions that would no doubt come in the immediate future.
FIVE
Werner's position at the resort was a rather equivocal one. On the one hand, he was, after all, nothing more than just another hired hand at a mountain resort, forced to obey certain restrictions and report for duty at certain times, like any dishwasher or maid. On the other hand, he had become a local celebrity out of all proportion to his real importance and income. And he had undoubted influence with Maggie Slater, the owner-and that was all-important. She was the first to realize that a man in Werner's pseudo-glamorous profession needed a more flexible schedule and more license with the rules than most of her other employees, on whom she tended to be tough and uncompromising.
"I want Mr. Kranz to have an entirely free hand when it comes to operating the skiing facilities," she instructed the members of her administrative staff, and that was that ... he alone among the several hundred employees enjoyed such carte blanche control over his specific responsibility.
They were all inevitably jealous of him, and suspected that his hold on Maggie came from more than his talents on the slopes. What none of them knew for certain-although it had always been widely rumored-was that Werner had been an interim lover for Maggie after the death of her husband and before she had become wealthy enough to be able to afford to be indifferent to what the rest of the world thought about the succession of young gigolos who had succeeded him.
Maggie was at least twenty years older than Werner-the exact difference was indeterminable because of her unreliability about stating her age-and it had been no more than a matter of convenience, of supply and demand, for both of them. It was to Maggie's credit that, as a smart businesswoman, she didn't disparage Werner for his opportunism in having filled a physical and emotional need of hers during a crucial period of her life-even though she had recognized his motivation as mercenary from the very beginning. When he'd made romantic overtures toward her shortly after his job interview, she'd accepted them for what they were and taken advantage of them. It was never intended to be a permanent arrangement, but it had been just what the doctor should've prescribed for her at that difficult time, and Maggie continued to feel a lingering, quasi-maternal affection for the young stud who had served her briefly but so well.
Now, it was as though they had never made it together. Maggie obviously didn't care to reminisce about their ardent but fleeting affair, and Werner was simply grateful that he'd met his obligation and had been freed to go on to other quarry. Specifically, younger quarry.
So perhaps there was a kind of poetic justice in his latest entanglement, with a woman of upper-middle-age who didn't meet most of his usual standards for sexual attention. She had used all the wiles of cynical experience to ensnare him, and then employed the bitchiness she was notorious for as an actress to chip away at his ego.
It was obvious to her from the beginning that the ski instructor had been spoiled by a succession of younger sluts, all eager to add themselves to his much-publicized list of erotic playmates. Werner was getting more than a little vain and careless in the process-a perfect target for Erica Townsend's liberated aggressiveness and competitive spirit.
Even Werner had to admit to himself that he was attracted more to Erica's reputation and talent than to her physical presence, at least at first. Not that she was at all unattractive ... she had retained a certain undeniable regal quality and aristocratic hauteur that went well with her face-the kind of features that women's magazine writers tactfully described as "handsome" rather than conventionally beautiful-in spite of her fifty-odd years of fast living. But, well-preserved as she was, Erica had inevitably lost some of the luster of youth, the taut and seamless complexion, the natural uplift of breasts, that Werner took for granted in his younger sex partners.
She was immediately aware that he was attracted to her status as a celebrated screen and stage actress rather than to her now less than extraordinary physical attributes. The realization simultaneously irked and amused her, tempting her to dismiss Werner as just another male groupie. But then, sizing him up as a worthy adversary, she decided to cast herself in the role of a hardened, super-sophisticated woman of the world.
"Never go after fame as a goal in itself," she warned Werner casually while making small talk with him during their first meeting. "You can't fuck fame, baby. It's cold and relentless, and it will wind up fucking you instead. Right up that cute little ass of yours."
Erica Townsend pulled few punches, verbally or otherwise. Her whole attitude was a challenge to him and Werner knew it. He was constitutionally incapable of letting a challenge from a woman go unanswered.
"I'm very selective," he assured her lightly. "My bed is like an altar to sex-only the best are sacrificed there."
She laughed throatily. "You're full of shit, that's what you are. Take it from a broad who's made the rounds quite a few times-you already take yourself too seriously for your own good. At my age you just might get away with it, but on you it looks absurd."
"You ought to come up to my lodge sometime ... I'd show you how serious I can really be."
"Oh? How about right now-or do you have to have advance notice to get yourself in the mood, like some actors I've worked with?"
She had him aroused, all right-not sexually so much as with a simmering kind of humiliated anger he wasn't used to experiencing, let alone dealing with. Who the hell did this bitch think she was, anyway-talking to Werner Kranz like that?!
"It's still mid-morning. Morning is for skiing."
"I figured you'd back down, so I'm not at all that disappointed."
The edges of his perpetual tan-the earlobes, the tip of his nose, the base of his neck-reddened noticeably. Erica observed his frustrated reaction with a peculiar kind of perverse female pleasure.
"See that man over there? Remember him?" Werner said with elaborate sarcasm, pointing none too discreetly. "Isn't he your husband?"
"Um ... yes, for the time being, now that I think about it," Erica laughed.
"And he won't mind if you go up to the lodge with me to screw around?"
"How delightfully naive you are, dear boy! Of course not. We have an understanding. That kind of marriage. Wide open and straining at the seams."
Werner, the product of a respectable European upbringing, still looked and felt a little dubious as he glanced over toward the other man again. Erica's third or fourth husband (no one kept count any more) was older than Werner, but conspicuously younger than Erica and quite good-looking. He looked capable of handling even this aggressive cunt.
"I've been with many married women," Werner boasted. "But never with their husbands standing right by waiting for sloppy seconds."
She wasn't offended, as he had hoped she'd be. "Think of it as something wicked and sinful, then ... it might help your performance. You know, the way little boys look at dirty pictures when they jerk off?"
That did it!
"You come with me," Werner growled, ordering her about like a Storm Trooper. "We'll skip the ski lesson and I'll try to teach you something of one of the many things which you obviously know nothing about!"
Erica chuckled. One had to know her fairly well to appreciate the fact that she was entertaining herself enormously just by putting the ski instructor down. If it required going the distance with him, she was perfectly willing to-not necessarily out of any great lust for him but because fucking him would give her an even better opportunity to undermine his ridiculous male egocentricity.
She winked at her husband as they passed him. "Werner is going to fit me with a new skiing outfit," she explained casually but suggestively.
Her husband merely smiled, nodded, and waved, ramming his ski poles into the fresh layer of snow with seemingly renewed energy and enthusiasm. Werner wondered briefly whether he might be a voyeur or one of those equally strange types who got his kicks just from the knowledge that his wife was having intimate relationships with a variety of other men.
"It won't take long," Werner called to the husband brazenly.
"Well, you never know about these things," Erica added with a ring of mischievous laughter permeating her voice-laughter at Werner's expense, as usual. He fumed all the way up the slope to the lodge.
"Step into my parlor," he almost spat as he held the door open for her.
"Nursery rhymes, yet. How kinky."
Werner had decided to try an entirely new and different strategy on her. He would simply step into the shower room, strip stark naked, and present himself to her. It struck him as an appropriately bold dare, a counter-challenge to her insultingly combative attitude. Even if she said something to put him down, he'd be able to score a point by reading her hunger for his body in her eyes, on her face ... and she'd be hungry for it once she saw it, all right. If she was at all normal!
"What happens now?" she asked brightly, with the same infuriating mixture of nonchalance and impudence.
"Unbuckle your wet boots and take them off while I use the bathroom for a minute," he said coldly.
"You can leave the door open ... I've been married several times, and I've lived in France."
"I've been there too," he retorted. "I've visited France and I've fucked plenty of married bitches ... that's why I'm closing the door."
While she tugged at the lightweight but bulky ski suit she'd purchased especially for this trip, he went into the bathroom and tore off every stitch of clothing covering his body.
Before he ventured back into the living-bedroom, however, he wanted to build an erection to impress her with. She hadn't done anything to inspire his lust-quite the contrary-so he'd have to resort to manual starting now. In a burst of blurring speed, skinning himself lewdly back and forth, he grasped his cock in his fist and quickly managed to make it rise to the challenge.
"It's not fair to play with yourself," Erica called through the revealingly thin bathroom door. "Forget what I said about dirty pic-ures ... masturbation is the opium of the masses, I believe somebody once said, and I've always held out for stronger highs."
"I'll be right out." You cunt! he added mentally.
He flung the door open with a dramatic gesture and bang, and stood there naked and aroused and momentarily stunned by the sight of Erica Townsend, who was as completely stripped as he was. She lay ready on the oversized bed, her legs spread and surprisingly taut and shapely, her fingers half-buried in a fistful of silky pubic hair as she held the lips of her pussy wide open and coaxed her clitoris out of its hiding place. The raunchiness of her pose and behavior gave Werner a full measure of phallic solidity immediately, without any further help from his hand.
She was the one reading his facial expression and finding it satisfactory. "Not bad for an old bitch-is that what you're thinking?" she taunted.
"Let's fuck," he said.
By stroking her thighs and rubbing them together like two pieces of kindling, she had ignited a fire between them even before she actually touched her cunt and clit. His words were like gasoline poured on the sparks ... she was on fire internally now, consumed by horniness.
The next sensation Erica became aware of was hot, moist breath striking her nakedly exposed pussy, fanning the fires of lust within her vagina. Then there was a sudden, unexpected rush of pleasure so fierce' that she screamed out loud! Werner had thrust his thick, stiffened tongue right between the slick, hot lips of her pussy, against the extra-sensitive surface of her little love button. He licked her clit, circled it with the rough underside of his tongue, then tickled the point expertly with his slick tongue-tip. Erica groaned, pushing her heated pussy against his face. Werner made his tongue long and flat and rigid, and began to lap and slap at the inner surfaces of Erica's cunt as though he were applying plaster to her vagina walls, his energetic tongue licking up and down the smooth, hot flesh of her creaming pussy. He bored into her clit, tickling it viciously, making her shriek with helpless pleasure.
"Oh! Oh God! Oh, fuck me! Stick it in me, Werner!" Erica squealed. "Fuck me with your tongue, you son of a bitching stud! Hurry, hurry! Lick me, suck on my pussy, quick!"
She doesn't sound like such a stuck-up bitch now! Werner exulted, grinning with the mouth he had pressed hard against the seething lips of the older woman's cunt. Yeah, these smart-ass cunts, they all sing a different tune once they've had a taste of some real head!
His tongue felt almost as thick as a small cock-and much more flexible-as it burrowed deep into Erica's tight, smoldering twat, probing and twisting so deep that it actually licked against the surface of her quivering womb. She shuddered and moaned, reaching down to tug on Werner's hair, grinding her box ever more insistently up against his face as he ate her.
"Oh! Fuck! It's good! It's so damned good!" Erica hissed, her legs and ass cheeks writhing uncontrollably.
Encouraged by the effect his oral attack was having on her, Werner slammed his tongue into her dripping snatch again and again, licking and slurping obscenely, noisily. He could taste her pussy juice flowing out of her, practically drowning him in a honeyed bath of liquid passion. She pushed desperately on his head, forcing him to lick more of the moist hot interior of her orifice. She felt herself spasming helplessly, just on the edge of climax.
"Come on, baby," she grunted. "Don't stop. Don't stop now. Make me come. Just a little more ... oh please! Please!"
Her groans of naked lust were sweet music to his ears. Beg for it, you old whore! he wanted to shout into the depths of her juiced-up sex. Beg for my tongue, for my cock, for a good hard come! And then beg for more!
But, although this herculean act of cunnilingus had begun as a way of proving something to himself and to her, Werner was getting too genuinely turned on by the sweet taste of Erica's hot box to feel really antagonistic toward her much longer. He grunted with real relish as his thick tongue plunged luxuriantly deep, hard, into the honey pot of her twat, tasting the luscious syrup. Erica screamed again as she felt the first waves of orgasm sweep all through her body. She flooded his face in her creamy response to his tongue-fucking. Just a moment more, she prayed, and she'd be there--!
Werner pulled his tongue out of her snapping-turtle of a pussy with a lurid slurping noise. Then, before Erica could even beg him to go on eating her, she felt his tongue-smeared with her own stickiness-working on her clit again, rubbing it hard enough to keep it stiff and throbbing, but not hard enough to make her come that way. He was teasing her, she realized in horrified frustration paying her back, as she knew she only too well deserved, for her bitchiness. And he was teasing her very efficiently ... his expert tongue revolved lewdly all around her pulsating love bud, circling the hot spot she needed to have stimulated if she hoped to climax, nipping and biting it playfully. She was almost out of her mind with lust! Crazy with her desire to come! She seized a double fistful of Werner's hair and tried to crush his mouth against her cunt again ... she wasn't going to let him get away with this. She was going to come if she had to do the job herself!
Werner's hard tongue lashed out over the blade of her turgid clit again. It was like pulling a strip of coarse sandpaper over a sharp metal spike-the sparks of her renewed arousal fairly flew through her vagina! Erica pushed her legs still further apart in her frenzy to have him lick her. "Eat me!" she demanded, her voice, carefully trained to project to the last row of seats in a large theater if necessary, bouncing off the walls of the the small ski lodge. "Lick meeeee ... do it, you prick ... oh yesssss ... just a little more, oh I beg of you, let me, let me come now ... please ... I'm going to!. . .Ohhhhh!"
But as soon as she made the mistake of saying that she was coming, Erica felt Werner's wonderful tongue slipping off the point of her clitoris again. She was ready to die with frustration. It just wasn't fair! He'd brought her up here to fuck her, bitchiness or not-why didn't he just ram it in her and ride her to a glorious orgasm for them both? Or at least let her climax on his tongue! He was threatening to leave her there, high and dry. She let her hands fall back to the bed, releasing his head, hoping that this gesture of submission might pacify him. Werner was terrific at giving head, but there was a limit to what she was going to put up with from a mere pickup, however humpy he might be! Then, suddenly-oh, relief.-she felt his tongue, revived after its short rest, snaking its way down to her cunt lips again, slithering wetly over her clitoris ... and then, without any warning, plunging lower, deep between her obscenely parted thighs, down toward her puckered pink ass-hole!
"Oh my God!" Erica gasped. "Yesssss!"
Werner's tongue was tickling the hairs surrounding what might be called her second pussy ... Erica had never had anyone do that to her before! But it felt good! She gasped and shuddered with pleasure as he rimmed her. It felt damned good! She lifted her ass off the mattress and pushed her buttocks against his face. Then she forced herself to hold still for a moment, sucking in her breath with a loud rasp and holding it tensely while his warm, rough tongue-tip tickled all around her crack and the opening to her anus, laving the satiny pink flesh around the tiny, tight ring. She really liked it!
Then she squealed and shook in response as he dug the stiff, searing tip of his tongue right through the mouth of her ass-hole and began to roll it around inside the narrow, flexing channel, probing, plunging ... "Ooooh Wernerrrrr," she wailed. "Ooooh! Feels so fucking goooood, loverrr-rrr ... ahhhhhl"
She loved the rather bizarre way her anus contracted and relaxed as his tongue fucked it, the hot, wet feeling she got in her pussy as it constricted in sympathetic response to the licking her other hole was getting now. It seemed so deliciously naughty, having a sexy young stud stick his tongue right up her ass! Erica was amazed at how wild it felt. She would've tried it long ago had she only suspected the possibilities of anal stimulation. Her ass seemed to be every bit as sensitive as her creamy pussy! She could feel individually the tiny zings and jolts and zaps of pleasure, could count and savor them as they shot through her cunt when Werner's tongue went into her anus as far as he could force it, grunting from the effort he was making to turn her on. He tongued her in a hot tight corkscrewing motion, reaming out her entire ass-hole. She screamed in ecstasy as her fluids poured out of her pussy in warm, steaming torrents. It was like being tongued in both places-two for the price of one! She wanted to come, to spasm in orgasm right along with the stabbings and probing of his thick, heavy, carefully trained tongue, that knew how to please a woman so exquisitely. Her groans and whimpers quickly turned to shrill screeches of selfish pleasure as she climbed the steep pinnacle of joy again. His tongue drilled deeper, or so it seemed, as though he had held something back, in reserve, until now, to push her the rest of the way up the slope and over the edge of that gigantic roller coaster of coming!
She was completely beyond words now. All she could do was pant out her delight. His face was jammed right down into her ass crack. He panted loudly as he stretched his tongue out from between his lips as far as it would go, burying it inside her ass-hole. He pushed harder and harder into her. She could feel his bursts of hot breath explode against her ass and cunt. She writhed around his tongue as he began to saw it roughly back and forth, in and out of her convulsing ass-hole. She was sure she was going to pass out from the sheer wanton pleasure of being rimmed so thoroughly, for the first time in her life. He thrust and plunged with hard swift strokes, lunging deep into her heated rectum. She felt herself finally getting there again, tottering on the verge of orgasmic ecstasy-floating higher, giddily higher-just a little farther to climb--!
"More! Just a little more, oh Christ!" she swore. "Please ... oh no! Oh shit! Oh shit no!"
Erica collapsed, cursing luridly under her breath. Werner had pulled his tongue out of her ass-hole and was laughing at her breathlessly as she writhed on the bed beside him in an agony of frustrated horniness, visibly seething with lust.
"You still think I can't do the job for you?" he demanded mocking. "You still think I'm not enough of a man to fuck you?"
"No!" Erica gasped, reaching down to spread her cunt lips with her hands. "Come on and fuck me now! Please! Quick, while I'm still hot, while I'm still almost there, ready to come-oh please!" She plunged two fingers into the juicy folds of her steaming pussy and exposed the vivid dark pink of the inner lips to his gaze. "Come and get it while it's hot!" she urged him in a frenzy of lust. "Fuck the hell out of me now!"
Werner decided she'd learned her lesson. He relented. He lurched forward with a groan and fell on her waiting body, letting her feel the incredibly hard shaft of his cock rub against her beaver before it pushed hard between her labia.
"God, will you give it to me!" Erica cried. "Put your dick into me! Now! Hurry! Stretch my pussy wide open with your big, hard cock, oh what do you want from me?! I'll do anything, say anything, I'm sorry, sorry, just fuck me and I'll make it all up to you, God damn you anyway, you-you man!" She writhed erotically up against him in her efforts to impale herself on his prick as he denied her the pleasure her horny, burning pussy so wildly craved.
Werner raised himself for a second and grasped his cock in his hand, keeping it out of her cunt's reach. "Sure you're willing to settle for this?" he mocked her.
"Yesssss!" Erica hissed frantically. "Come on, stud! Fuck! Don't fool around with me any more, just do it! Feed it to me. Fill my pussy, stuff it full of that nice thick meat! Do it, Werner-do it, fuck me!"
"All right-since you've asked for it so nicely." Werner grinned and lunged forward, pushing his huge cock past the tight entrance to Erica's snatch and penetrating her throbbing pussy hole. She could feel her vaginal lips straining and stretching in a desperate effort to accommodate all of the thick, swollen shaft that was filling her inch by inexorable, soothing inch. He was hung so heavily that for a moment she panicked and thought that, experienced slut though she was, she might not be able to take it all, as horribly as she wanted it! She needed it so badly, though, that she would have taken on a horse if it had been the only cock around at that moment.
"That's it, baby," she urged him in a gasp. "Stick it to me, shove it hard, honey, I can handle it. Give it all to me now ... yes! Oh, God, I'm dying ... it's enormous ... come on, yes, let me have the rest, stud, do it, shove my cunt full of that cock of yours! Aaarrrghhh--! "
Too aroused himself by now not to take her at her word, with a hoarse cry Werner buried his erection all the way into Erica's unbelievably hot, wet, horny cunt. He plowed into her pussy as brutally as he'd ever fucked a woman, his cock making wet slurping sounds of triumph as it rammed through the warm creamy proof of her passion.
Werner grunted with considerable satisfaction, physical and emotional, as he started to fuck her, pumping rapidly up and down on top of the body she was abandoning so shamelessly to him. His chest rubbed abrasively against her fine breasts, her nipples tingling from their friction against his chest hair. Her cuntal muscles clung desperately to his shaft, tightening around his cock almost painfully as she squeezed him in her, keeping him screwing her, now that she finally had what she needed.
"God, Erica," Werner told her, "you've got one of the tightest cunts around! You're like a fucking teenager down there between your legs!"
Inspired by his praise, Erica threw her legs up over his shoulders and clung to his heaving body, bracing herself and rocking with his thrusts. She could feel his prick pulsating strongly against the insides of her pussy as it clamped down hard around him and her body was bruised by his every lunge into her. His lustful fury seemed to be driving her ass cheeks right through the mattress, pounding her into a pulp. She could feel the repeated impact going right through her pelvis, pinning her to the bed! His hands mauled her tits. He pinched the protruding nipples sharply, sadistically observing her reaction. Finally he slipped his hands down to cup her smooth buttocks, hoisting her ass up against him, forcing her drenched and battered pussy to push harder against his impaling cockshaft. Erica gasped, feeling the impossible-his prick driving even deeper into her! It felt as though he was going to tear her body right open!
But she didn't care. All that mattered was getting more and more of that big, beautiful cock rammed deeper into her hungry pussy!
Her thighs split wide open and she moved her hands down to Werner's ass, holding him in place on top of her, pushing his pounding butt down to drive his dick in and out of her wet cunt. "Give me more!" she screamed, freaking out on sex. "More! More cock! More fucking! More, morel"
She felt him manfully striving, doing his best to fuck faster, plunging into her more violently. This was the part of being screwed that Erica loved the most-the fast, hard dash to the finish line, the pounding, hard strokes a man gave her just before he shot off inside her pussy. She wanted Werner to fuck her hard-as hard as he could! She squeezed herself around his pistoning shaft, sucking inward with her pussy, trying to pull him all the way into her twat. She rocked her hips, urging him to rip her apart with that titanic prong. She milked his cock until she was dizzy and panting from the effort. But she was doing it! She could feel his prick swelling even larger inside her body, bloated by the huge hot load of jism he was going to give her.
"Ah, Christ ... Erica ... you're so fucking hot ... you must be the hottest fuck in the world! Squeeze it, baby-squeeze my dick-milk that come right out of me if you want it so bad!"
Erica gasped. Every part of her body had come to screaming life. All she could concentrate on was Werner's thrusting, ramming cock and her vagina's wild response to it. She clung to him tightly and hung on while he pounded into her mushy pussy like a human pile driver gone out of control.
"Give it to me!" she squealed, her body wrapping itself around his. "Give me hot come, stud! Shoot into me! Come! Oh, come!"
Her vagina sucked at his cock voraciously, like a million tiny mouths all feeding themselves upon it simultaneously, a million fingers kneading, a million hot wet tongues lewdly licking away in unison. Her lush body shook with the tremors of approaching orgasm. Her cunt was wide open around the shaft of his prick, floods of creamy fluid pouring off its slippery walls, soaking Werner's cock in her burning internal juices. Werner gave in to the burning pressure in his overtaxed balls ... he just couldn't hold it back any longer, he had to blast into this bitch's incredibly hot cunt! He lunged desperately, forcing the ejaculation from his body, feeling the creamy agony in his nuts build. He planted his prick deep in Erica's pussy and let it explode in a mighty spurt of searing hot spunk.
"God!" he grunted in awe, panting furiously as his cock spat its heavy load into that thirsty, steaming cunt. He belched and blasted until Erica thought he would never stop coming in her. Her vagina felt filled to the brim with his male essence. His fluids and hers mixed intimately as they rolled and heaved in the last waves of shared orgasmic excitement.
Werner rested only a moment before pulling his thick tool from Erica's sodden slot with a lurid-sounding pop. "You sure are some fuck!" he complimented her crudely.
She smiled sweetly. "Thank you." She looked down at herself and saw that his climax was rich and pearly, much of it oozing like skin lotion from the bruised-looking lips of her orifice. She lay still for a moment, breathing hard, reliving the lewd experience in her mind and committing every detail to memory, allowing the sensations that still lingered inside her body after their heated union to ripple slowly over her like waves lapping at a shallow shore.
"Keep practicing with the right women," she said finally, "and you may learn how to do it really well eventually."
Werner could laugh because he understood her game now-or at least he thought he did. She was really much better in bed than he had anticipated, and, as with all surprises, it added to the pleasure of the proceedings.
"Here," he said, offering her his limp and thoroughly besmeared prick, letting the sticky tip of it flick against her panting lips. "Practice on this and give me a chance to evaluate your performance."
" 'Thy rod and thy staff shall comfort me,'" she quoted outrageously as she promptly sealed her lips tightly around the thick head of his cock. It pulsed immediately against her tongue, her energetic licking and sucking making it start to swell back into erection almost at once.
"That's suck-religious," Werner punned, laughing.
"Ummmmmmm ... " Her hunger was almost cannibalistic in its savagery; one would have thought she hadn't had sex for five years, not just five minutes. At one point she managed to fit all of his sexual equipment inside her mouth, testicles and all, gurgling with obscene pleasure as she so engorged herself. Under her expert sucking he came with surprising speed, a second ejaculation scarcely less copious than his first ... this time the creamy white sauce of his come slid over her parted lips and down her chin, and he caught some of it in his palm to smear over her stiff-tipped breasts as she drank. When she took her mouth away from him he bent his head to suck on her breasts. They were a bit pendulous, but still full and attractive for a woman her age. In any case, she was certainly giving him a lesson in sexual durability. In the future he wasn't going to be so quick to dismiss older women as preferred bed partners. Not if Erica was at all representative!
"I'll have you busted for practicing gynecology without a license!" she threatened playfully as his mouth moved down toward her vagina.
"I've got a license."
"Oh. Home study, I suppose. Well, in that case-be my guest. Lunch is on me!"
He was curious about her now that they had worked through their initial reciprocal hostility. She watched him as he probed about her sex organs with his tongue, seeking the tasty flesh that lay beneath the thick, sodden pubic hair. Her vulva was flushed a rich deep wine red from fucking, rumpled, looking like moist crimson velvet splattered with cream. He buried his face into the rawness of it and began to lick away any discomfort his forceful fucking may have caused, his tongue quickly abandoning the fleshy outer lips to dive deep into the interior.
Erica twisted and contorted her body at this expert assault on her most responsive orifice.
"Eat me!" she cried, gasping for breath.
Those were her last coherent words before the tidal wave of arousal hit and engulfed her again.
Erica's handsome young husband joined them for dinner the following night, after barely seeing his wife in the meantime.
"I want to thank you for taking so much time teaching Erica," he told Werner, completely deadpan.
It was good that the dining room was lit only by flicking candles set in tinted glass globes. Werner could feel the tingling warmth of a guilty blush rising to his face like mercury in a thermometer plunged into hot water.
"She's a good pupil," he replied, burying his nose in his menu. "She, um, listens and she learns."
Charles Lunterica Townsend never took her husbands' names; it would've made things impossibly complicated-only laughed. "I find that hard to believe. Erica prides herself on never listening to what anybody tells her-not even her agent or directors."
Erica, looking serene as only a woman who has spent the past twenty-four hours in a nonstop sexual debauch can, caressed her husband's cheek lightly. "That's not true," she protested. "I listen to people I can respect."
"Well, that leaves me out, I guess," Charles quipped.
"Skiing is quite different from acting, I'm sure," Werner said, trying to change the subject. "It's physical rather than mental."
"Oh! Then she only respects you physically?' Charles said maliciously.
"A man is a man," Erica pronounced gravely, with a knowing smile directed to both men. "They're basically all the same-disappointing."
"I can't agree," Charles said. "Any man who's been in any army shower room knows that men are not created equal."
Werner made an uncomfortable effort to join in the laughter, which he was afraid was more and more directed at him. "I'm sorry you're checking out tomorrow," he lied. Another day or two with Erica's insatiable erotic demands would have been the physical ruin of him. "A few more days and both of you would have been ready to try the big slope."
"I've had my shot at the big ski attraction here," Erica joked shamelessly. She and her husband were holding hands like a couple of starry-eyed newlyweds; Werner didn't even try to interpret that.
"Actually," Charles said, "if I were in your position, Werner, I'd do the same as you-spend most of my time up in the ski lodge. That way you can't get hurt."
Erica laughed mischievously. "Now you are wrong, darling ... most of the worst accidents happen inside the home. Better remember that, Werner, dear, the next time you invite a woman up there."
With all the sexual banter at his expense and the disquieting conviction that Erica had already told her husband about their indoor adventures in detail, Werner was grateful when the odd couple excused themselves to return to their suite to pack and go to bed early. Whether Erica intended to let her husband get any sleep was another open question.
"We'll be back," Erica promised-or threatened. "Keep your equipment in good shape."
When they had left, Werner ordered a double martini and sat alone at the table, with the strange feeling that he'd been screwed in more ways than one, although he certainly didn't have anything to complain about. He couldn't help wondering just who and what lay ahead of him. Hopefully, it would be a little less formidable and draining than the woman who'd just left. Or a lot less.
SIX
An article about Werner in a Montreal-based sports and vacation magazine prompted him to make a somewhat unusual request of Chuck Trevor. A small photo of the authoress had accompanied the article, and it so intrigued him-particularly once he had read and re-read the flattering description of him that she had written-that Werner asked the public relations man to arrange for the attractive young French-Canadian reporter to be included on the first possible celebrity-guest invitation list. For all practical purposes, this meant that all of her expenses for a long weekend visit would be paid by the resort-a courtesy usually extended only to far more prominent and influential persons than this Isabelle Tourneau.
"Christ Almighty, Werner," was Trevor's first, gut reaction. "I'll get my ass in a sling if Maggie finds out that you just want the girl brought here so you can put the make on her!"
"Don't worry about it, man ... if there's any trouble I'll turn on the old charm and explain it all to Maggie ... even if it means putting the make on her."
Trevor sighed. It wasn't easy to deny Werner these little and not-so-little favors-he made every such proposition sound like a test of one's loyalty and friendship. And besides, the ski instructor was always generous in allowing Chuck to use the isolated ski lodge as a seduction sight when Mrs. Trevor was around and when Werner wasn't planning to get laid that night-something which happened rarely and always by choice, not by circumstance. Trevor didn't see why the ski instructor had to import tail when there was so much of it already around Snow Valley.
"Can't do it, Werner. Sorry."
"But I want you to do it," Werner said with deceptive simplicity. "I want to meet her ... I could do it myself, but that'd be all wrong ... the invitation would have to come from the resort. From you."
"Okay," Trevor capitulated reluctantly, knowing that he would give in eventually anyway and so might as well save them both time and energy. "Another career down the drain just so you can get laid ... Jesus!"
Werner smiled. "Maybe she won't like me, and you'll have a crack at her."
"Very funny ... that'll happen when Club Tropicale takes over this place!"
Mademoiselle Tourneau was exquisite, her figure fully living up to the promise of her photo, which had shown her only from the neck up. If she had any suspicion about who had been behind her unexpected invitation to Snow Valley as a guest of the management, she didn't let on, showing a journalist's discretion. After all, her magazine had a large circulation in Canada, and she could reasonably assume that the management might be legitimately interested in bolstering the tourist trade from the north. Quebec had its own ski resorts, so there would have to be some special attraction to lure Canadian skiers south. An inducement like Werner Kranz, for example.
Isabelle had noticed and admired him on her previous visit, although they hadn't met. It didn't occur to her that he was the force behind her invitation, much less that she had been brought in specifically for an affaire d'amour with him.
In addition to giving her V.I.P. treatment she knew she didn't deserve, Chuck Trevor shadowed Isabelle like a nervous duenna from the moment she arrived to make sure that none of the other resident wolves could get to her before Werner had a chance to make his own carefully premeditated pass. If some other bastard seduced her first, it would be a disaster ... Werner wasn't noted for his tolerance of such successful competition, and, rationally or not, he would blame Trevor for it.
"The first member of our staff I would like you to meet," Trevor told Isabelle, "is our resident glamour boy ... I'm sure you know who I mean."
She looked genuinely puzzled. "No," she said with disarming frankness.
Uh-oh, Trevor thought. "You wrote about him. You said he was one of the most attractive ski pros in North America."
"Did I? Then it would have to have been just from looking at his pictures," Isabelle lied glibly, not wanting to give herself away. "The only ski pros I know well are rather pleasant but ordinary men who only look like something special when they're dressed up in their special outfits and out posing on the slopes."
It was good that Werner was waiting in one of the bars. This way Trevor had time to make his standard sexual sales pitch and make certain that the girl at least knew who he was talking about!
"Werner Kranz," he prompted her hopefully. He dutifully suffused his voice with awe and admiration.
To his relief, her face lit up. "Oh, yes! I do remember now."
"Werner's probably the best-known skier in America," Trevor exaggerated. "He's taught some of the country's biggest stage and screen starsand he's dated them, too."
"Then he probably won't so much as look at me," Isabelle laughed. "I'm only a humble, hard-working journalist who still gets excited when she has a chance to interview a star, which isn't very often."
"You're much too modest."
"And you're too good a press agent. Flattery comes out of your mouth naturally, Mr. Trevor, like bubbles from a glass of champagne. I don't intend to let myself get drunk on it."
"You're a lovely young lady, Miss Tourneau. That's a factual observation, not flattery."
"Please just call me Belle. Everyone does. I prefer it."
"Okay, Belle. By the way, your English is perfect for a girl who speaks and writes in French all the time."
She laughed musically. "You forget that three-fourths of Canadians speak French, not English. I went to an English school, as a matter-of-fact. That'll have to remain our little secret because my editor is very French-chauvinistic and I could get fired if he knew about that blot on my past."
"If he's a man he'd have to be crazy to fire you ... you're worth your salary just walking into the office in the morning, I'll bet."
"There you go again, lapsing into press-agent-ese."
"Well, I'd better introduce you to our skimeister, then. He really knows how to lay it on to a pretty girl. Here's where I said we'd meet him," Trevor explained on the threshold of the barroom. "Now, remember, the name is Werner-Werner Kranz."
"It's a difficult name to forget," Isabelle said.
"You'll like him," Trevor assured her fervently. He prayed that that would be a considerable understatement.
She and Werner got along well from the very beginning.
Werner had learned something from his stormy encounter with Christina Blake. She had been one of the first of his many "conquests"-if the term could be applied to her in the first place, which he doubted-who had dared to question his preoccupation with himself. It had taken all of his sexual prowess to earn her grudging respect, and even then she had refused to take him very seriously. That had been a new experience for him-wounding to his male vanity, but healthy in the long run. He would no longer take women for granted. This time, with this lovely young creature, he wasn't going to risk arousing any resistance on her part-not even temporarily. He turned on the full power of his charm from the moment he caught sight of Chuck guiding Isabelle Tourneau toward his table. It was easy, in her case. Her photo hadn't begun to do her justice. She was a stunning combination of fresh, girlish complexion, silken blonde hair, sleek legs, and generous but not grossly over-proportioned bosom and hips. The flowery freshness of her, her spring-like perfection, effected him the way a field of clover effects a bumblebee ... he wanted to suck the sweet pollen from her, and as soon as possible.
But, unlike most of the women her age Werner had seduced, Isabelle didn't play coy or throw herself at him. She had an alert, inquisitive, journalistically-trained mind that forced him to carry on an intelligent conversation with her, and about topics other than himself or sex.
"Where were you born, Werner?" Isabelle got around to asking eventually.
"Salzburg."
"And you learned to ski in Austria?"
"Yes, when I was quite young."
"Do you have a family back in Europe?"
"Um, no one close any more ... I've got a huge family over here, now. People on the staff like Maggie and Chuck-and all the regular patrons of the resort."
"I suppose you don't lack for companionship, then, even though you're not married."
"What I really lack is time for myself. It's like being a doctor-living here means you're 'on call' twenty-four hours a day."
"Really? Do you ski here at night, too?"
"Not always, but often enough."
She smiled. "You sound as though you don't care for it."
"It's not natural, somehow."
"And you prefer things to be natural, I take it?"
This was the opening in their conversation that he had been waiting for. He took advantage of it quickly, before they could get back to trivialities again: "Just as I'm sure you must," he said suavely. "You're natural and unaffected-besides being beautiful. An ideal combination."
She blushed ever so slightly. "That's a terrible exaggeration. And Mr. Trevor warned me about you." I'll kill him! Werner thought. "But thank you.
"I'd like to teach you to ski."
"That's very nice of you, but I'm afraid you'd find it not worth your time. You see, I've actually done some competitive skiing myself."
He was both disappointed and intrigued by the revelation that they had something in common that was important to him. Teaching the fundamentals of skiing had always been his most reliable method of seduction at the resort. "Local?" he asked.
"International. At Vail and Innsbruck-your turf, so to speak."
"I'm not sure you'll even want to look at our modest slopes, then."
"Of course I do. This isn't the Alps, but it has its own charm. And who measures a resort by the size of its mountains?"
He repressed a wicked urge to say that he measured women by the size of theirs. "We've got mostly rank amateurs-real beginners-here now. It's a day to celebrate on when a competition skier shows up."
"Well, I didn't come here just to ski, Werner. I came to enjoy everything Snow Valley has to offer its guests, and write about it. Come on, why don't you show me around a little?"
The momentary disappointment and even panic he had felt melted before the outgoing warmth of her personality. Nevertheless, he felt a little at a loss confronted by her skiing ability. What if she turned out to be even better at the sport than he was? That had certainly never happened to him before, at least not here, and the possibility was unsettling for a man with his ego.
"I'd like to see the indoor pool first ... it's one of the world's largest, isn't it?" Isabelle asked.
"Maybe. Chuck Trevor has all that kind of information at his fingertips. But I don't think even he goes around measuring other swimming pools to make sure ours can hold its own against the competition."
"Well, I can always take the standard dodge and say it's among the largest in North America."
He laughed. "You ought to have Chuck's job. You'd make a good press agent."
"Please. To a reporter that's comparable to calling a respectable woman a fille de joie."
"I apologize."
"Oh, no offense taken. There's nothing wrong with spreading a little joy around ... I just like to keep the facts straight, that's all."
Their tour of the grounds was inevitably climaxed by a climb to the ski lodge. It was remarkable how Werner, even when not wholly sure of himself as he was at the moment, could adjust his timing to different women's needs, judging with surprising accuracy just when each had reached the moment of amenability to suggestion, if not of actual surrender.
Isabelle was a perceptive, intelligent, sophisticated, and independent young liberated woman, but even she was no real match for the libidinous resourcefulness and underhanded cunning of
Werner Kranz ... he was just too experienced and cynical even for a beautiful city girl who was used to being stalked by the male animal both on and off the job.
"I'd like to meet Maggie Slater sometime," Isabelle remarked as soon as the two of them were comfortably settled in front of the fire with hot rum toddies. "I've heard so much about her. It must be interesting to be a single woman running this huge place all on her own ... and, of course, I'd like to thank her for inviting me."
"I'll introduce you-sometime," said Werner, who had his own reasons for not wanting Maggie to meet her "guest" just yet. "She lives in that big house behind the trees, on that hill to the west-see it?"
"I don't know which way is which," Isabelle confessed, turning toward the windowed hall. "I left my compass back in Canada, I'm afraid."
Werner went over to her and slid his arm around her casually as he pointed to the horizon. "There," he said.
"I can't really make it out too well. It's getting . dark already."
"It's just a very big old house. She was born there."
"Really? And Miss Slater built this whole gigantic complex herself? I mean, it was all done at her instigation and under her supervision?"
"Yes, more or less. The land all belonged to her parents ... it was a farm back then. All of this is her private playground, in a sense."
"She must be a remarkable woman."
"So are you," he said with intent.
She offered no objection to his tightening hold around her waist, so he began to move his hand around, exploring first her arm and then slowly daring to finger the outline of her breasts. They both still wore their outdoor things, until the fire began to burn up properly.
"Do you give physical examinations to all of your students?" Isabelle asked with amusement in her voice, looking at him very directly.
"Only to those who look as though they need my special therapy."
"Then I assume you've already diagnosed me and I'm to be the next patient."
"Very astute assumption," he said, his hands now busily engaged in unzipping her bright-colored parka.
"You're a fast operator," she said coolly, but with a hint of excitement invading her voice. "You must be quite a speed skier."
"On the right terrain I can be a real speed demon," he told her throatily.
"Wait-wait," she gasped suddenly, pulling free of him.
"I'm just helping you take that jacket off," he explained mock-innocently. "It's getting warm in here now. You don't need it." He hoped she wasn't going to back out. He really wanted this one, really wanted her.
But she slid over next to him and gave him a little nip on the earlobe that really turned his motor on: he could feel the engine turning over between his legs, warming up. "Werner," Isabelle whispered into his ear in a wan voice that sent chills down his spine, "I want you to tell me something ... have you ever raped a girl?"
Werner looked at her as though she'd suddenly gone out of her mind, and silently shook his head to indicate no.
"Well," she pressed, ignoring his gesture, "have you?"
This time he was able to speak: "No, I've never raped a girl, because I've never had to rape a girl. One or two have sexually assaulted me," he added with a wide grin. "Why? Do you have somebody for me to rape?"
"Yes. Me."
He could tell by the seriousness of her tone that she wasn't kidding, so he listened carefully as she went on to explain in a rush: "You see, the only way I can really enjoy sex is if I'm raped-forced to fuck ... so I want you to rip off every piece of clothing I have on and force me to fuck you. Really make me do it-I want you to take me and use me as painfully as you can. Because if you'll do this for me, we can have a wonderful relationship. I really like you, you know ... "
Werner was about to remark, This kind of lovemaking must be a little hard on your wardrobe, but without waiting for his reply Belle got up and disappeared into the bathroom. Werner didn't know whether he was expected to follow her, break the door down and drag her back out, or what; so he simply sat there waiting for further instructions from his rape victim-to-be. Half of him was urging the other half to get up and run the hell out of there-except that it was his place. At least they were sufficiently isolated so that no one was--likely to overhear her cries of Rape! while he was busy raping her at her request, and call the police from the village. The whole scene seemed more than a little bizarre and unappetizing to Werner, who'd been anticipating something quite different. On the other hand, she was sexually immensely attractive to him, and he hadn't been laid in quite a while (three days), and she had turned him on more than just a little.
While he was pondering all these considerations, Belle came back into the main room, and he saw what she'd been wearing under her ski clothes-a skintight black leotard, like ballet dancers wear-Werner could see the outline of a bra under the top of it-and a very short skirt, which did little more than accentuate the exciting profile of her ass. He thought the skirt was a bit superfluous since the clinging leotard covered her entire body, but he supposed that a willing rape victim at least has the right to choose an appropriate costume for her rape.
He was wondering exactly how a man goes about raping a woman, when Belle abruptly flung herself onto the couch and all over him. Werner still wasn't sure how to handle this strange scene, but Belle was taking over, kissing him on the mouth in an absolutely violent, desperate manner-his lip felt as though it had been caught in a meat grinder, and he could taste blood. Something inside him snapped. The male brute escaped. He was furious with her for hurting him, and he wanted to get even with her, so he pulled her off him, picked her up, and threw her on the couch with a thud. Then he was on top of her, ripping that stupid skirt off. Somehow she wriggled out from underneath his body and began to run around the room. Werner pursued her, caught her, and forced her down on the carpet in front of the fireplace.
Pinning her flailing arms next to her lithe body and straddling her waist, he ripped the top of the leotard right down the middle and then pulled off her black silk bra by grabbing it between the cups and giving one violent yank. She had gorgeous breasts and he couldn't wait to get them in his mouth, but he turned her over onto her stomach instead, holding her wrists together in one hand and tearing off the rest of the leotard with the other. The cheeks of her ass were so beautiful and tempting that he twisted his head down to give them a good love-bite for starters, and from her wince and gasp he knew they were more like real bites than he'd intended.
Neither of them had said a word during all of this, which somehow made it even more weird and violent, and now Werner was faced with the problem of getting off his own clothes. So he tried straddling Belle again, and writhed out of his upper garments without much difficulty; but as he was loosening his ski pants and underwear his cock jumped out, rock hard, and Belle lurched forward toward it as though there was nothing she'd rather do than bite it off at the base! Instinctively, Werner slapped her-pretty damned hard, too-and then turned her right back onto her stomach again and held her arms pinioned with one hand while he managed to strip off the rest of his clothing.
She was struggling like an insane person to get out of his grasp and he had all he could do to hold her down, much less penetrate and actually screw her. At one point-he had a tremendous hard-on, he had to admit, despite the bizarre circumstances, or perhaps because of them-his cock was near her face again and Belle looked at it with a lust-crazed expression on her lovely, panting face. He wanted to jam all of his horny dick right into her mouth and throat and blast a load of hot come into her on the spot, he was so horny; but the fear that she might not return his cock to him intact made him think twice. He knew he'd be wise to keep all vulnerable parts of his own body, including his mouth, away from those snapping teeth of hers.
He decided to risk letting go of her for a moment, jumped up, and rushed over to the chair on which he'd hurled his pants. He pulled his large red handkerchief out of the pocket and went after her again ... she'd gotten up and was actually headed toward the front door of the lodge-nude! Werner had to intercept her and bring her down on the floor with a crash using a flying tackle. Again, it was a purely instinctual action-he simply leapt across the living room and cut her luscious body down with both arms thrown around her legs. She groaned, an animal sound, and he knew he must've hurt her, but he didn't care. He had her on her stomach again, that glorious ass thrust up at him, and lashed her arms together above the elbows behind her back with the big handkerchief, then rolled her boobs-up.
He was going to fuck this tantalizing bitch until she screamed for mercy, and he no longer worried one bit about whether or not it would hurt her. He forced her legs open and got ready to plunge into her pussy. If she was tight inside that erotic pink slit, that would just be too fucking bad because he was going to ram his prick into it anyway! But she wasn't the least bit dry or tense-she was sopping wet with arousal and more than ready to receive his cock. He let her have it-all of it!
It was a kinky kind of sex that Werner had never tried before and wasn't too sure he'd ever care to experiment with again, but while it lasted it was one of those rare, truly satisfying fuck sessions that he knew he'd never be able to forget. Belle went absolutely out of her mind with lust as he "raped" her. Even though he hadn't had the opportunity to so much as touch her breasts yet, her nipples were extended at least an inch, throbbing visibly, and the harder he fucked her the more hysterically excited and responsive she became. Despite the fact that her arms were tightly bound behind her back, she bucked and kicked and squirmed beneath him so fiercely that the two of them rolled all over the floor, and as he screwed her in every position this continual motion got them into, she didn't just come two or three times-she seemed to be shuddering in one continuous, overpowering orgasm. As for Werner, he ejaculated very quickly the first time, like a jack rabbit, but went on fucking and didn't come again until nearly half an hour later-and in all that time he didn't pull his cock out of her or stop pumping away inside her pussy once. They were sweating and panting, exhausted but still going strong, when he finally forced Belle over onto her stomach and lifted her up by the middle so that he could re-penetrate her from the rear and ride her to orgasm doggy-style, mauling her luscious breasts with his hands as he blasted into her twat a second time.
He did everything to her that he could think of, finally dragging her over to the couch where their mad passion had begun, forcing her to kneel in front of him and suck him until he got hard again-which didn't take long. Then he made her go on sucking until he shot again, and to swallow every ounce of his discharge. He had his hands clasped behind her head and was quite literally fucking her in the throat, but the more violently he moved her head back and forth on his ruthless cock, the more turned on Belle became. Even after he blew his third wad she kept on blowing him, voraciously, until the pressure of her lips and tongue on his prick began to hurt and he had to push her head away. Not once during this fellatio marathon did he have to worry about her biting him-she was so hungry for his cock that she had at least one orgasm while she was sucking it, without even having her dripping pussy stimulated directly.
Finally he released her and slumped back on the couch, feeling utterly spent, while Belle just lay there on the floor, staring up at him gratefully.
At last she gasped, "Oh ... oh, God!. . . that was great, Werner. Just marvelous!"
Werner wasn't too sure he completely shared her enthusiasm. He realized that she had succeeded in turning him into some sort of brutal, unfeeling animal, taking full advantage of her, and he didn't feel very positive about it. She joined him on the couch and cuddled up against him.
Werner's post-coital emotions were mixed, to put it mildly. It had been thrilling in its highly unorthodox way, but her gentle submissiveness now, after the brutality of the fucking, only reminded him of how elegant, feminine, and vulnerable she really was-qualities that he'd just violated in the course of the mock rape. He wanted to make conventional love to her next time-and he hoped that the chance would come soon. It was as though he felt he had to make up to her for having given her exactly what she'd asked for! Confusing-to say the least.
"You really enjoyed that?" he finally ventured to ask, incredulity flooding his voice.
"I loved it, Werner-couldn't you tell? It's never been so-wild-for me. I really let myself go and responded, did everything I've always wanted to do with a man but never had the courage-at last. Oh God, at last!"
"You said you can't enjoy sex without that kind of thing-the rough treatment, being 'raped'? "
She laughed, and to his relief she was the Isabelle he'd first met and liked again. "Well, I may have been exaggerating, a little. I need the rape routine to get over my initial inhibitions ... but once they're gone, and I know the man, things tend to get a little less violent between us." She blushed slightly. "I'm talking as though there've been hundreds of men. Actually I've only had a few lovers who really-mattered."
He smiled. "Do I matter?"
"It's too early to tell," she teased him. "But you've made a promising beginning."
"Maybe I'd better work on improving my score."
Her eyes widened. "Right now?"
"Yes, why not?"
"Well, I'm willing, but ... I always thought that men, ah, had to wait to get back into operating condition again?"
Werner laughed. "I can tell that your experience has been limited. Either that, or you've been wasting your time-and yourself-on men who couldn't measure up."
She eased her nude body away from his and stared at him provocatively, a sly smile curving her lips. "Oh? And you can? Measure up, I mean."
He grasped his only moderately diminished erection in his fist and bent it toward her. "Rape victims can't be choosers, so this'll just have to satisfy you."
"Oh, it did ... and it will. Let's do it again ... the ordinary way, this time, Werner. I think I want to try that with you."
"There's nothing ordinary about the way I do it." He took her into his arms and cut off her reply with a kiss. Her tongue eagerly responded to the pressure of his. He took no time in which to study and explore her body, as he might have wanted to, for fear she would change her mind about not being 'raped' before he could enter her and show her the delights of conventional intercourse. Instead, he pushed her bodily down on the cushions of the couch and fell on top of her, sealing her lips with his own to prevent any further verbal repartee. His cock was fully turgid and pulsated with excitement by now, jerking spasmodically as it sought its way through the half-remembered forest of her crotch hair. Werner reached down and guided his hard, throbbing member along the slippery groove of her vaginal opening, test-probing along the way for the actual cavity. His hot rod plunged inside it suddenly, swallowed whole by the lips of her vulva which were still swollen and moist from their previous coupling, and he heard the suction and her gasp of pleasure simultaneously as he slowly pulled his prick part-way out of her only to have it drawn deep into her body again.
"No, give it to me!" she cried. "I want it in me ... you have a nice ski pole," she managed to joke as she rose and fell to its repeated thrusts.
"Fuck it, then," he instructed her heatedly.
He could tell that, despite her disclaimer, she was a fairly advanced pupil by the expert way she responded to his lead. They slid, still joined at the genitals, off the couch to the floor, rolling over the fur rug spread in front of the fireplace, and he found himself on the bottom of the pile now, her breasts dangling most invitingly above him. The nipples-his most prized hors d'oeuvres-were of his favorite conical variety, he had leisure to notice now, pink and smooth with hard, cherry-like peaks. He sacrificed part of his penetration to gain oral access to the double prize, sucking one and fondling the other as Belle struggled frantically to drive both him and herself to climax.
The resolution to this much more playful combat was quick and simultaneous. His cock exploded inside her tightly gripping pussy, his come running down both her thighs like icing melting off a cake, settling in the thick soft nest of her pubic hair.
They slowly but thoroughly went through his entire repertoire of positions and techniques before finally deciding to rejoin civilization in the main building. Dinner was already over, so Werner suggested that they drive into the village to a restaurant he occasionally frequented as a change of pace from the resort's excellent cuisine. It had been an unusually strenuous afternoon and early evening, leaving him famished but wholly content with his lot. He couldn't remember having enjoyed a sexual encounter more, in the long run. But then, he made an unofficial policy of cultivating a rather short memory where such matters were concerned, in order to enjoy each new conquest to the fullest and avoid possibly odious comparisons.
As for Isabelle-who had little to fear from competition past or future in Werner's sex life-she looked and behaved as though she had spent the past few hours in quiet meditation, refreshing body and mind, instead of balling her brains out up in the ski lodge ... there was no indication to an outsider that anything remotely sexual had crossed her mind, let alone her body. Only Werner knew better-and exulted in the knowledge, particularly when he saw how enviously most of the other men in the restaurant were looking at him, wishing that his lovely companion were theirs.
They were too exhausted to do much more than exchange a goodnight kiss before falling asleep in each other's arms in his bed at the lodge. But the first thing Belle wanted upon waking up early the next morning was another sample of Werner's skill in cunnilingus.
"I'm going to devour you instead of breakfast," he warned her playfully.
"I'm glad you're hungry after that delicious meal we had last night," Belle laughed.
"That was just what we skiers call a trial run." He wedged his face immediately into the scissors of her legs and began licking the soft edges of her juicy cunt, nuzzling the moistened gap between the lips with his nose as he moved about its circumference. She lay back passive, her eyes closed, her body shuddering slightly in anticipation.
"Suck me," she begged softly.
For a change the instructor was willing, indeed eager, to take orders. He savored the taste of her warm, creaming pussy. Without so much as pausing to catch his breath-, he pressed his hands against the insides of Belle's thighs and pushed them even farther open; then he crushed his wet mouth right against her gaping cuntal slit. She cried out in wild, uncontrollable lust as the terrible sex hunger gnawed away at her insides again and would no longer be denied.
"Eat me, Werner!" she gasped, tugging at his hair to press his lips still more firmly against her cunt. "I can't wait, I'm getting too hot already, so fucking God-damned turned on! Oh darling! I want it! Lick me! Eat me, darling-go down on me and eat out my hot, juicy cunt!"
She locked her fingers together behind Werner's head and shoved his mouth against the maw of her cunt. He slid his tongue up and down along the deep, damp groove of pussy flesh, lapping Isa-belle's cunt greedily. The moist, glistening scarlet lips, with their lining of soft blonde downy hairs, fluttered eagerly open and shut around his penetrating tongue, and the bud of her clitoris expanded in arousal, throbbing fiercely like a tiny penis in full erection.
A thin clear coating of sticky wetness trickled from her quivering slit as Werner tongued it with increasing enthusiasm, tasting her female essence. The musky scent of her womanhood filled his nostrils as he breathed in hard, his mouth watering as it drank from her vaginal fountain. He ate her pussy lustily. She shuddered, all over, as though an avalanche were rocking the slope the lodge had been built on.
"Oh-God yes, Werner!" she babbled in a fever of excitement as he drilled his tongue in and out of her twat like a limber, flexible cock fucking her, making her climax. "Eat that hot box, stud!" she screamed with a vulgar abandon quite uncharacteristic of her. "Eat it! Stick that tongue in me deeper, rub it against my clit-oh fuck yes, I'm doing it, you're making me come!"
She lifted her ass high off the bed to shove her cunt in his face, humping furiously as the tremors of orgasm pervaded her body, increasing the thrilling friction of his tongue against the delicate opening of her pussy, the tender, hot, swollen folds of flesh of her inner labia. Spasmodically-her strong calf muscles flexing-her legs scissored themselves around Werner's neck, trapping his head in her crotch, keeping his face jammed against the mound of her cunt. She banged her pelvis up against his fucking, licking, tormenting tongue, flattening her clitoris against his upper lip and actually bruising it on his teeth in her erotic fury.
"Oh-eat me, eat me, I'm coming, I'm coming so hard-so good-fuck, fuck yes!" her cries of passion reverberated between the wooden walls of the A-frame.
Her pussy was overflowing with its own sweet syrups, the tip of his squirming tongue now sliding around freely in the gooey bath of fluids. Her release was warm and sweet, the flood of lubrication like some heady, intoxicating erotic cider as it seeped into Werner's mouth and he swallowed it all down thirstily. His nose was pressed into the matted hairs of her mons. The muscles deep inside her spasming vagina were palpitating in helpless, fierce reaction to the steady probing of his invading tongue, the strong suction of her pursed lips on her clitoris. His tongue was fully extended now, straining and aching as it slid up into her body as far as he could force it and licked from side to side in a blur of motion, driving her almost insane with excitement as her climax peaked.
"Oh fuck yes I'm still coming," Belle gritted out from behind clenched and gnashing teeth as the storm of eroticism in her lower body blew up into a veritable tornado of orgasm that shook and wrenched her entire body. She trembled, ground her cunt up against Werner's face, smearing her thick juices all over his lips and cheeks and chin, literally screwing her pussy around his tongue to help bring herself off. His hot tongue was jammed deep in her cunt. His hot mouth was sucking her vulva, creating a tight seal over her spasming pussy, trapping her secretions until he could draw them inside his mouth and swallow them at his leisure so as to taste every luscious drop. He was all but drowning in the molten honey of her orgasm. And she was still coming! One shattering wave of rippling, rocking release faded away only to be replaced by another, stronger one. The warm wet tide of her climax flooded Werner's open mouth as he drilled his tongue into her pussy for the last time and held it there. Belle's thighs squeezed the sides of his head as her hips pumped in a blur of motion ... she let out a last scream of sheer ecstasy as her vaginal walls closed and trembled like a subway tunnel being shaken by a speeding train ... he fucked his tongue rapidly in and out of her gushing orifice until they both felt the awesome force of her orgasm spending itself and subsiding by degrees, her drenched, swollen pussy lips relaxing a little against his devouring mouth. She could come no more, at least not until her drained and pleasure-gutted body had had a chance to recover from this colossal come he had just given her. A long, low moan of sexual satiety escaped from her lips as she sank back on the bed, her naked body lightly beaded with drops of sweat, a smile on her face as she gazed up at Werner with glazed eyes.
But now it was his turn to take pleasure, to give his over-excited body the orgasm it had been building toward all the time he'd been going down on her so selflessly. He took his cock in his hand and gave it a few fast pumps to give it the complete rigidity it would need to penetrate her easily. She stared at it hungrily as he gripped it around the base and guided the huge, angry-looking head between her thighs and touched it to those dripping pussy lips. His cock pulsed almost violently when it felt the heat of her cunt searing through it. Despite her exhaustion from having come so hard, she was as ready to be fucked as a woman could be.
His cock vanished effortlessly between the folds of her cuntal gap.
"Oh-oh yes, Werner! Fuck me now, fuck me good and hard!" she moaned, staring up into his eyes as, without any preliminaries, he began to saw himself back and forth inside her. Her face screwed up into a lewd mask of lust as he took her, both of them thinking only of their mingled lust, of the pleasure they were giving and receiving as they united their bodies. The smooth inner lips of her pussy were distended, wrapped snugly around the base of his pistoning prickshaft, hugging it possessively as he pounded away at her in a regular, rutting rhythm. He would pull almost all the way out, until no more than the head of his bloated instrument remained lodged inside her cunt; then, unsparingly, he would plunge his glistening rod right up into her cunt again, burying himself to the balls as Belle moaned and tensed and shuddered beneath the relentless onslaught and begged him to fuck her until it hurt, to screw her without mercy. And he complied with her request. Again and again!
Hours passed before he was able to break away from her erotic magnetism and remind her that they had a dinner date with Maggie Slater herself.
Werner had arranged it after Isabelle's repeated requests. He did it somewhat reluctantly, afraid that Maggie would discover that Isabelle was at Snow Valley as a non-paying celebrity guest-a courtesy scarcely ever extended to a mere journalist. He was also worried that Isabelle would put two and two together and guess that he had been behind the invitation-had, in fact, brought her here especially for him to seduce. Not that he thought she'd take offense; it might be embarrassing, though.
Fortunately for Werner, Maggie was in one of her most relaxed and expansive moods, her latest gigolo having turned out to be exceptionally potent and compliant. The conversation skirted the circumstances of Isabelle's visit, and flowed easily and pleasantly in other channels.
"You're a most attractive and intelligent young woman," Maggie told Belle with characteristic frankness half-way through dinner. "I've generally admired Werner's tastes in female friends, but this time he's outdone himself."
Isabelle smiled in her most beguiling manner. "Thank you. That's especially nice to hear coming from a woman of your achievements."
It was decided somewhere between dessert and the post-dinner coffee and liqueurs that Belle would interview Maggie for a personality profile to be published in her magazine. Maggie seldom granted such interviews, preferring that any publicity opportunities go to the resort in general rather than to her as an individual; but this idea evolved so naturally that she all but suggested it herself.
"Chuck, our public relations man-oh, you've met him?-is always after me to get myself more media coverage-'good ink,' he calls it-but I'd like to think that Snow Valley speaks for itself and doesn't need an old lady blowing off about its attractions," Maggie said.
"If I quote you on that, honesty will force me to delete that adjective," Isabelle responded. "You're far from old."
"Whenever I look at you, dear, I feel as though I've just put on ten years-and at least twenty pounds."
Later, after Werner managed to break the two women's mutual admiration society up, at least for the night, he complimented Belle on her diplomacy.
"You're the first pretty girl I've ever seen Maggie really warm to," he said.
"It's just my way of paying for the weekend," she responded slyly.
On the last day of her stay they skied together to an abandoned cabin that had once been used by hunters: it was off the resort's property and almost hidden in snow banks and evergreens. Inside, he made love to her for the last time, both of them virtually fully clothed in the cold interior of the structure, their genitals the only bared portions of their bodies.
"I'm going to miss you," Werner admitted.
"You can always come visit me in Canada," she said, "even though it would be a bit dangerous for you."
"Dangerous? Why?"
"Canadian geese are different from the ones here in the States," Belle said wryly. "They mate for life. I could very easily become addicted to this-to you-and never let you go. And I know you wouldn't like that. Not at all."
He promised her that he would come in spite of the risk of becoming a domesticated gander. It was a promise he had never sincerely made to any other woman, and it surprised even him to realize that he was looking forward to fulfilling it as soon as possible.
After she had left, it bothered him that he couldn't dismiss her from his thoughts as easily as he had all the others.
SEVEN
There were times between seasons when Werner was almost forced into hibernation: he was a fall, winter, and early spring person who languished in the heat of summer. Nobody cared about ski talk then, about ski people, about ski pros. He was forced to rely on his image and charisma alone to sustain him through this annual dry spell.
Fortunately, he had his body, his good looks, and his basic athletic skill to fall back on during these draughts. The damage was mostly to his ego, although his internal organs probably suffered, too, from his increased consumption of alcohol.
Snow Valley didn't shut down in the summer, but was populated by an entirely different crowd-hordes of teenagers and aging adolescents determined to land sexual partners at least for the duration of their stay, if not husbands or wives.
"Who's he?" the girls would invariably ask after their first glimpse of the tanned, muscular, and handsome stud who seemed at times to be all over the tennis courts, the pool, the golf course, and the lobby at the same time.
"That's Werner Kranz." If Werner's luck held out, there would be a touch of awe in the informant's voice. Nobody who came to the resort more than once was unaware of his name and reputation. He was a man who knew the stars, conversed and drank with them, instructed them in skiing, and, if they were female, slept with them a large percentage of the time. He was a tourist attraction all by himself, and that was why Maggie made sure he kept his lodge and his salary throughout the months between skiing seasons. His duties during such periods were never very explicitly spelled out.
Adulation wasn't Werner's thing, though-at least not when it went hand-in-hand with enforced idleness. He hated to be cast in the role of-a standby, however glamorous. Real attention during the summer season tended to focus on the other athletes on the staff; only the regular patrons who came at least once during all four seasons really remembered and appreciated him. This was Barney Ballard's time in the spotlight, too-he led the hordes of guests through his many comedy and recreational routines and was the life of every party, easily the most sought-after and recognized personality on the grounds. He apologized once or twice to Werner for it, no doubt remembering his own relative obscurity during the winter months and the ski instructor's continued favor with their lady boss.
"Get out there on stage with me some night."
"Balloon" urged Werner. "I'll fill your face with horny cunts if you'll just let me work a couple of routines around you."
But Werner was adamant: "I'm nobody's straight man," he insisted.
He bathed his body in the golden sunlight daily, sometimes in tennis matches with the resort's pro and those of the general staff members who enjoyed the sport for exercise. Even in these lazy days and drunken nights of summer he was an asset to Maggie and the resort.
Chuck Trevor was constantly scheming to lure popular events as well as famous personalities to Snow Valley. So far he had managed to hold an annual marathon race that attracted many of the top finishers in the Boston Marathon, to sponsor a major golf tournament with a $250,000 first prize, to hold an ice skating competition that had sent half-a-dozen girls to the Olympic figure-skating finals so far, and to set up training camps on the spacious grounds for a heavyweight champion and the two top contenders. This summer, he had managed to get the resort included on the professional tennis circuit.
Bored, Werner volunteered to help Chuck set up the event. There were numerous details to be worked out that really required a fair knowledge of the game, and Werner was more than adept on the courts by now. Tennis had virtually become his second sport, and had he been younger, he might very well be part of a professional tour group himself with a little application.
The highlight of Snow Valley's net package was the presence of two of the best and most controversial female tennis players in the country: Debra Lee Kiley and Margarita Diaz. They were both outspoken supporters of women's liberation, particularly (and understandably) in the field of professional athletics.
Werner instinctively disliked what they stood for politically, but he admired their athletic abilities ... this at least prevented him from boycotting their appearance at the resort until he had had a chance to check them out as females.
There were times during the crowded summer months when Werner was forced to give up the ski lodge. Only a limited number of suites as large as his usual quarters were available in the inn, and when a dozen celebrities descended upon the resort simultaneously, it required a good deal of space juggling to accommodate them all in the style to which they were accustomed.
As luck would have it, the lodge was designated as a suitably private headquarters for Debra Lee and Margarita. This meant that it was Werner's job to show them around the place and get them settled.
He was introduced to them-a pair of dark-haired girls with rakish feather cut hairdos, who never seemed to wear anything off the tennis court but pants. They turned out to be a lot friendlier than their reputations and quotes printed in the sports pages seemed to suggest. Perhaps the largely male sports writing fraternity was really doing what the two stars so often accused it of-making them the scapegoats of an anti-feminist press by taking their remarks out of context and blowing up minor disputes with male tennis players out of all proportion to reality. Still, this wasn't an easy assumption for Werner to accept. The press had almost always been flattering to him, so he assumed that Debra Lee and Margarita must've done something to get on its bad side.
"It's not generally the sports reporters themselves who're to blame," Debra Lee told him. "It's their editors who are the big male-chauvinist-pig rip-off artists ... some of those bastards will do anything to make us look bad."
"The capitalistic clique," Margarita agreed.
That struck Werner as a bit inconsistent coming from a young woman who made well over $100,000 a year for knocking a ball back and forth over a net and endorsing various tennis products.
"Anyhow, I really like this place." Debra Lee diplomatically changed the subject to that of the lodge. "It's like having your own house and all the advantages of a hotel."
"Yeah," Margarita agreed. "It's even better than the bungalows on the grounds of the Beverly Hills Hotel."
"Or the Ambassador ... "
"Hey!" Werner protested. "Don't let Maggie hear any of this, or she'll start charging me a daily rate!"
The three of them got along well from the start despite some minor political differences of opinion. Werner kept his male-chauvinist-pig viewpoints to himself for a change, concentrating instead on tennis matters.
He was amazed by the two girls' strength and endurance and agility as he watched them practice. Neither of them was a big woman, yet their volleys whistled past him like so many bullets.
"Hey, Kranz!" Debra Lee called to him half-way through a particularly grueling-looking session. "Come on over here and ball with me for a while!" The challenge in her tone was unmistakable.
She wasn't particularly attractive by the high standards Werner had set for himself-not facially, at least-but there was a quality of animal sensuality in her sure, feline gracefulness as she moved about the courts that appealed to him. On purely physical grounds, the choice between her and Margarita Diaz would go to the pert, pretty Mexican-American girl hands down. But Werner's overly active erotic imagination couldn't help harboring some fantasies about seducing Debra Lee, the more masculine-looking and acting and aggressively independent of the two. In a vague way, his lust for her disturbed his libido; but he didn't intend to worry about it too much. For one thing, neither of the two tennis stars seemed to need a man at the moment. Competition probably burned up the energy that most women had to release in a good fuck.
"You're too good for me and you know it," he shouted back. "How about some grass-skiing instead, to even the odds?"
A mad inventor had been trying to get Werner interested in the idea of introducing summer slope skiing on specially designed plastic skis, but Werner had so far dismissed the idea as a farfetched and poor substitute for the real thing that would never catch on. Another large manufacturer had demonstrated an Astroturf-like carpet that could be skied down with regular equipment. Werner had tried it and almost broken his neck on the slippery plastic "grass."
"I'll settle for water-skiing in the summer," he had told the chagrined demonstrator dryly.
"I don't want to risk an injury this close to the match," Debra Lee replied to his counter-challenge. "So get your balls out here!"
He did as he was asked, and she praised his playing at regular intervals to keep his masculine ego intact-perhaps a wee bit condescendingly. "Good shot!" she'd shout whenever he was able to return one of her murderous volleys with anything like real control. Meanwhile, she politely said little or nothing about the more frequent occasions when she lobbed balls past him or burned them across the net with such speed that he couldn't handle them at all as he raced around the court panting and dripping sweat.
"I'm glad you weren't around here when I first took up this game," he admitted when they were through. "Or I'd never have had the nerve to pick up a racket."
"You're above-average for an amateur. You handle yourself very well on the court."
"I think I handle myself much better in the bedroom," he said innocently. It was his first such sally, and he was curious to see what her reaction would be.
She looked up at him with a quick flash of her eyes. "I can't judge that," she said casually, "without playing a match with you there, too."
Perspiration stood out on her face like morning dew on a pink flower. She blotted her face and throat with the towel flung across her neck and looked at him again. He couldn't read her expression.
"I don't hear any challenge to that?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Consider yourself challenged," Werner replied.
They made their way through the usual crowd of admirers and autograph hounds. Debra Lee was a bit curt with them, and Werner understood how she had acquired a reputation for irritability and bitchiness off the courts. It was probably her way of coping with it all.
As they climbed wordlessly into the jeep provided by the inn, he turned his thoughts to the project of coping with her in bed. He felt no burning physical desire to have sex with her yet, but he was enough of a male animal to be quite capable of rising to the occasion with just about any female animal. In addition, this one qualified as an authentic celebrity, and that in itself made her more than ordinarily desirable to him, emotionally.
They bounced along the rutted dirt path up to the lodge, the hard-riding jeep's springs jostling them up and down and from side to side and inevitably bringing their bodies into intimate if bruising contact. Debra Lee reached over matter-of-factly about half-way up the climb and dug her hand into Werner's tennis shorts and inside the sweaty tautness of the elastic pouch of his jockstrap, freeing his penis and testicles with a single efficient tug.
"I like to watch them bounce around in your lap on this lousy excuse for a road," she explained bluntly. Werner could feel himself stiffening from this unexpected exposure, aggravated by the relentless trampoline sensation his ass and crotch made against the bouncing front seat. By the time they had parked and were inside the lodge he was fully hardened and ready to penetrate anybody or anything. Debra Lee stripped off her brief tennis costume with the nonchalance and agility of the athlete she was, and brought him down upon her in a strong wrestling lock.
"Fuck the hell out of me!" she demanded.
He attacked her with a ferocity he would ordinarily have reserved for the un--likely event of fighting another male in earnest, and she responded with equal brute force and no holds barred aggression.
His mouth touched hers, and Debra Lee sucked his tongue voraciously inside. She was a sexual cannibal, gobbling him, inhaling him, absorbing him into her through the medium of the long, hot kiss. Her body pressed against his as though it could open up and swallow him completely.
Werner's hands roamed up and down her sleek nudity as she molded her lips softly but by no means submissively to his, urging him to continue kissing her and plunging his tongue into her mouth. One of his legs went over hers, pulling her deliciously long, muscular, but entirely feminine thighs closer to the congested mass of his prick and balls. He covered her left breast with the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the taut nipple. The pressure of his strong, calloused hand on her tit made Debra Lee's pussy flare up inside like a jet switching its afterburner on full blast. Her nostrils flared, seeking air to fuel the passion flaming up in her loins. She had to pull her face away from the lubricious, virile thrusts of his tongue to gasp for breath.
She stared at him, seeing a look on his face poised between taking command of the situation and asking her permission to screw her-and it made her want to wrestle him all the way to the fiercest, hottest, horniest orgasm that either of them had ever had. With a carnivorous grin, she attacked him. And Werner not only defended himself, he returned the assault. His right hand went from her breast to her ass, and he yanked her hips brutally against his crotch, burying the stiff length of his cock against the soft, yielding mound of her cunt. He humped himself against the sweet, simmering warmth of that part of her body, thrusting his erection at her as though it were already inside her pussy.
Debra Lee's vagina wet itself from within as she felt his prick rubbing against her pussy, sensed behind the physical pressure his determination to master and dominate her. She threw herself into the fight-and it was a fight, a sexual battle, a hungry savage struggling war-like tussle with cunt juice flowing instead of blood and cock the favored weapon of attack. The old proverb rang in her head: The best victory is a long, drawn-out defeat; but Debra Lee had no intention of losing. She escalated her erotic efforts, plastering her luscious mouth against Werner's again as a diversionary tactic. She assaulted his lips with her tongue, then plunged it deep into his oral cavity, tasting him. Her hips rolled forward in a tide of motion that made all of her mons veneris press against his genitals in a taunting promise of the pleasure they would have if they could subdue her.
She wanted him to massacre her, sexually. Werner threw her onto her back on the bed, his torso covering her chest and flattening her breasts painfully. He pried open her pussylips with his fingertips. Her fingernails raking at his ass cheeks were spurs to his vicious lust, as she had intended them to be. Werner thrust his own tongue right back at hers. He hadn't expected such fiery passion in her attack-and he'd never met so physically powerful a woman-but somehow he managed to keep her writhing body trapped under his, her hot, bulging pussy rubbing against his crotch. Her legs opened spasmodically. Her knees bent, and she captured his legs with her strong calves. His cock, his hips, his thighs, were all trapped in the wide, cradling vee of her twisting thighs. He crushed one bare breast in his hand and pushed Debra Lee flat on the mattress under him. His spine arched like a striking snake's as he jammed his hard-on into the gap between her thighs and forced her labia farther apart, tickling her clit and making her gasp with eagerness despite herself. His tongue skidded wetly over the aureole of the breast in his hand, then rubbed over the nipple. Debra Lee moaned. She knew that he'd scored a point, that she was yielding to her lusts.
"Fuck me, you bastard! Oh, Christ-fuck me!"
"I intend to, you bitch!"
Debra Lee felt her resistance ebbing away as Werner's mouth sucked on her nipple and his hand and cock plunged between her spread cunt lips, rubbing the swollen head of his agitated tool over her pussy to get it good and wet for insertion, the delay teasing and tormenting her fuck-ready body. With a cry, she stretched her legs wider, releasing his thighs, then threw her hips and ass up, making her cunt skate wetly across the thick blunt tip of his prick. "In me, in me, you fucker!" she screamed. "Put it in me!"
"Maybe," Werner taunted her, panting. "Just maybe."
"Yes! Yes! Oh-please, Werner! Please fuck me nowF'
"You asked for it, cunt!"
She gritted her teeth and grunted with satisfaction as his knob pushed against the hood of her clitoris, forcing the lips of her vulva wide open to make room for all of his glans to ram between them, deep into the wet, mushy pit of her pussy. He'd hoped to tease her cunt the way he'd teased her tit by denying her the full length of his cock at first, instead sliding the tip back and forth slyly, erotically dodging from cunt to clit and back again; but Debra Lee was too horny, her hunger for cock too demanding. Wildly, she squeezed down around him, sucking the whole of his cockhead inside her body and holding it there as she threw herself up at him to complete the penetration. The score was tied again.
Debra Lee grinned at him insolently as her pussy pulled a couple more inches of cock inside itself and Werner moaned, the feeling of being in her too good to let him want to withdraw. She flung her arms around his back and pulled him into her the rest of the way. All of his prick plunged into her, then out again, then back in, as she pumped herself against him, fucking him, trying to reduce him to no more than the passive instrument of her stimulation. He was being used, but Werner didn't particularly mind. It felt great! He fucked deep and hard, punishing her pussy.
Debra Lee's athletic body was shiny with sweat.
Her breasts slipped around underneath his chest as though they'd been oiled. Her stomach was a puddle of mingled perspiration and fluid escaping from her plugged pussy. She felt his body grind against hers and exulted in the pressure and friction. His pubic bone pressed painfully but thrillingly against her maddened clit, making her grunt and shriek in ecstasy.
It was low-down, dirty, sweaty, bestial sex, with the musty scent of his balls and the rich ripe reek of her turned-on vagina mingling intimately in every desperate breath that either of them took. Werner was panting like a steam engine with a broken safety valve, ready to explode, huffing, gasping, puffing, as he pulled back, grunting as he slammed home again, filling and fucking every inch of her insatiably aroused cunt.
And Debra Lee loved it. It had been too long since she'd let herself be screwed by a man, she decided. So she made up for all that lost time now. She was as wet as though she'd immersed herself in an ocean of sweat and vaginal secretions, her pussy feeling as thick as hot syrup and as slimy as an oil spill around that pistoning prick. She filled her burning lungs and emptied them in the long, painful hyperventilating rhythm of a marathon runner, all the while working her hips up at Werner's descending cock and then backing away, writhing, screwing and being screwed, abandoning herself to this bestial passion. She felt a ballooning increase of sensation deep in her cunt ... it swelled fuller with every stroke his cock made into her. She started a lewd, lascivious rotation of her pelvis against his to bring herself off.
Recognizing that her crisis was approaching, Werner summoned up the last of his strength to match her desperate-efforts. Debra Lee tightened one ass cheek, then the other, then both. She raised her hip, then let it fall back down to the mattress with a bone-jarring thud. She flexed her cunt muscles until they screamed from the strain and Werner thought his prick would be crushed into a bloody pulp. She shoved. She rolled. She heaved. She screamed. She came! She shouted, "Oh fuck, Werner! Come on, baby! Ohhhhh, I-I'm there, I'm ready, I'm doing it, lover-I'm coming! Oh Christ yes! Am I ever coming-and coming-and fucking coming!"
Werner answered only with another hard lunge of his cock. Jolts of electric heat throbbed through her body from her vagina to her brain. Debra Lee stared up at the stud who was screwing her so masterfully to orgasm with wide, blank, unseeing eyes, her mouth open and sucking in air desperately. She was moving her lips, trying to beg him to do it harder, faster, to ensure her climax-but no sound emerged. But Werner understood. He nodded. And he gave her what she wanted and needed. He gave her more cock!
He was holding back, determined to make her come before he allowed his aching cock and balls to erupt their load of semen into her. And Debra Lee was too wildly excited, too eager to experience orgasm, to try to hold out longer than he could. She surrendered herself completely to the fever of eroticism that was searing her from within. She imploded around his potent prick. Squeezing, rippling, rolling motions filled and rocked her cunt. Her entire body seemed to be participating in her orgasm! She knew that Werner was still pumping into her, still fucking her, and that part of her body was still automatically responding to his thrusts. But the glory of her orgasm obliterated everything else from her mind. She couldn't feel or think about anything now except the awesome power of her own too-long-delayed come.
It lifted her high off the bed, held her suspended in mid-air for a long moment, then let her fall again. She thought that her body had opened so far that Werner's cock was sinking right through it and into the mattress, tearing her apart, fucking her to death! She went through a whole lifetime of sensation during those precious, pulsating seconds it took her to climax repeatedly.
Even after Werner had ejaculated, had stopped his violent, dominating thrusts, she could feel his cock sliding sluggishly back and forth, trapped in the still-spasming ecstasy of her pussy. Her hands fell helplessly from his ass to his shoulders, then to the sides of his face as he kissed her on the lips again ... she was falling apart, shattered with joy that was so pure and hot and strong that it almost terrified her even as she exulted in it and wanted it to go on forever. Debra Lee just lay back and let it happen, let their mutual frenzy spend itself slowly.
She was out of her mind with pleasure, completely wrapped up in the marvelous welded heat of her copulation with Werner. She didn't know where her body stopped and his began, and it didn't matter. Time had stopped long before she felt herself coming reluctantly back down to earth ... Werner was still stretched out on top of her, his vigorous motions slowing to an exhausted halt at last.
They were still gasping from the strenuous exertion of this first explosive fuck when the bedroom door opened without warning. It was Margarita Diaz.
She stopped short in the doorway and looked down at the naked heap of their bodies and the ruin they had made of the bed without the slightest hint of surprise on her lovely face. Then she smiled.
"How come I wasn't invited?" she asked, laughing.
Shallowness had finally settled in Debra Lee's breathing, and she could now swallow more deeply and give some steadiness to her reply: "It was a surprise party, darling. But you're invited to join us for dessert, now that you're here."
"I could use a little," Margarita admitted.
"Well, he's got a lot to give."
"Then I could use a lot, for that matter."
"Hello, Margarita," Werner said, his momentary self-consciousness at her unexpected entrance now overcome.
She reached down and lifted his cock in her hand, examining it before kissing it tenderly on its tip. Some of his semen and Debra Lee's cuntal honey remained on her lips. "Hello, Werner," she said softly, licking her lips to taste the mingled fluids.
Debra Lee sat up on the bed and helped Werner to pull Margarita's clothes off. The result of this unwrapping process was the revelation of a truly delectable small body with pert, boyish breasts and a fine cluster of hair forming the triangle of which the double-dip cones of her tits were the inverted base, her pink pussy slit the exciting apex. She knelt down immediately after Werner's eyes and photographic sexual memory had taken a quick snapshot of her, and began to devour the still-wet mass of his cock with her lips and tongue. Werner thought that, after the brutal fuck he'd just thrown into Debra Lee, he'd never be able to get it up again-ever-no matter how charming his second partner. His immediate resurrection inside Margarita's tenderly soothing and stimulating mouth seemed like a miracle even to him.
He watched approvingly as Debra Lee moved behind Margarita, separated the firm little cheeks of her derriere, and began feverishly licking the entire delicately-furred crevice that separated her buttocks and led toward the already moist valley of her vagina. It was a fantasy come true for Werner, watching one sexy woman going down on another so uninhibitedly, and he was excited by the mere act of witnessing it. No wonder these two girls always traveled together, defended one another in the press, and refused to compete against each other in major tournaments.
Margarita deserted him the moment after he had finished ejaculating into her demanding mouth, and-with his sperm still brimming over her panting lips-she contorted herself so that she was able to burrow her face into the open, angled vertex of Debra Lee's thighs. There, she fed what Werner had given her into her friend's cunt, writhing in response to the insistent and obviously very proficient tonguing of her own vulva by Debra Lee.
They truly were a doubles team, cooperating beautifully to make each other quiver all over with anticipation and pleasure. It didn't take long for their impassioned mutual cunnilingus to result in two titanic orgasms. Being female, they knew precisely where the most sensitive arousal areas were, and pursued them with hunger. It was such a stimulating picture that Werner found himself caressing his poor drained cock in his hand, managing to get it back into some semblance of erection while watching two women eating each other in front of him. There was a chain reaction as Debra Lee's pleasure at having brought her lesbian lover off with her lips and tongue resulted in another fierce climax for herself even before Margarita had stopped coming. They collapsed next to Werner finally, the sheer ardor of their lovemaking wearing them both out, embracing like two sisters falling asleep together quite innocently.
He had been initiated into their secret society, so to speak, so they didn't hesitate to demonstrate some further tricks of lesbian lovemaking to him after a much-needed rest. The two girls owned an impressive array of vibrators and dildos-"our best friends," they laughingly referred to them-bestowing masculine names upon them like Peter, Dicky, Rod, and so forth.
"Are you going to christen one 'Werner,' now?" he asked, fascinated by the artificial cocks, some of which were much larger than anything that could be found on a human male.
"Sure, take your pick," Debra Lee invited him brazenly. Neither girl was surprised when Werner selected the largest of the sex toys to be given the honor of bearing his name as a souvenir of their encounter. The three of them spent the next hour playing alternately with themselves and with one another, with Debra Lee finally persuading Margarita to model a strap-on dildo that made her resemble a Pinocchio in reverse.
"Fuck me dog-fashion in front of the mirror while I screw Debby with this," the petite tennis player urged Werner.
It was much more pleasurable for him than he had anticipated to watch Debra Lee being fucked to still another violent orgasm on an artificial prick while he plunged his own flesh-and-blood organ in and out of Margarita's brazenly spread trough from behind and below, all three of the participants in this bizarre orgy watching themselves in the mirror. Then the two girls in turn "raped" Werner, although mercifully not with any of the dildos, deriving an obvious pleasure from describing their aggressive behavior as such. Words had always been an important part of the thrill of sex for him as well, and he now got a hot interior response from the thought of being raped by two dykes.
Perhaps because sex helped her to psyche herself for competition, Debra Lee put on an outstanding exhibition of championship tennis the next afternoon, defeating her opponent 6-0, 6-3. Then she teamed up for doubles with Margarita to trounce their opponents, good as the latter were, 6-2, 3-6, 6-I.
After the matches, Maggie hosted a cocktail party and awards dinner for all the players and the members of their entourages. Werner circulated among the crowd of guests with the nodding, smiling manner of a diplomat who has just successfully negotiated a major treaty to his country's advantage. He chatted briefly with Maggie before stationing himself near the focus of attention: Debra Lee and Margarita.
"You were tremendous this afternoon," he told them.
"You were tremendous yesterday afternoon," Debra Lee replied.
"I never scored a double before."
Margarita laughed appreciatively as she went on signing her name on the invitations and programs being thrust at her for autographing. Maggie had come over to join their group just in time to hear the laughter.
"I'm beginning to think you should have Chuck's job instead," she told Werner. "The girls haven't stopped laughing since you joined them."
"No thanks, Maggie, I like doing what I already am doing."
"How do you like our Werner?" Maggie asked, addressing the two tennis stars as though they were a single individual. "Has he been treating you all right?"
"Not bad," Debra Lee said mockingly, flashing Werner a sly wink.
"He's a real charmer," Margarita laughed. "If there were more men around like him, I might even change my mind about the male being the inferior sex."
"He holds the resort's record for seductions," Maggie warned them kiddingly. "I hope you girls escape without becoming just two more statistics ... it'd do Werner good to have his ego deflated a little."
"It's not his ego we're interested in deflating," Debra Lee said lewdly.
Maggie was beginning to get the picture. "Werner," she warned, "you be good to these ladies-or else."
"But I'm always good," he boasted.
"Well, then be fair for a change, too." Maggie turned back to face the girls, who had filled the inn with tennis aficionados and those who pretended to be such, making this a profitable week for her. "If he misbehaves, just report him to me."
After she had left, Debra Lee remarked, "That old broad is all right."
"I like her," Margarita agreed.
"Don't tell me you're thinking about replacing me with Maggie," Werner protested.
"Um, not just yet ... "
There was a dance afterward in an adjoining ballroom, and Debra Lee and Margarita created a mild sensation of dancing together before the latter agreed to do the hustle with Werner.
Chuck Trevor pulled Werner aside after that, an indignant look on his face. "You're wasting your time hanging out with them," he warned sotto voce. "Don't you know they're gay, for Christ's sake?"
Werner was beginning to feel the effects of the many drinks he'd downed during dinner, and he laughed right in Trevor's face. "If I can be bilingual and bipartisan," he joked, "why can't they be bisexual?"
"You're putting me on, Werner," the other man scoffed.
"We'll see," Werner told him lightly.
Chuck's eyes never left him for the remainder of the evening. Just to annoy him, Werner made a point of staying in the company of Debra Lee and Margarita, who not only welcomed his presence but made it fairly clear that they were after him sexually, titillating everybody else, the others having no way of knowing that the resort's stud-in-residence had already scored with both reputed lesbians, who had every intention of offering him a rematch later that very night.
About eleven o'clock, Debra Lee's glance ricocheted from Margarita to Werner and back again like one of her own devastating serves and returns. The two girls' boredom with the party was evident-as was their desire for some indoor sport with him. "Let's go," Debra Lee suggested. "We've got our awards, the show's over, we've made everybody happy by putting in our appearance ... why hang around here when we could be swinging up at the lodge?"
There was no objection from either of the two others. "I'll just tell Maggie I'm leaving," Werner said. "And I'll meet you in the parking lot. It'll be more discreet that way than if we all leave together."
At the lodge, Werner excused himself to use the bathroom while the two girls immediately retired to the bedroom. He heard giggling through the door the moment he emerged from the John, and it got louder and more boisterous as he neared the closed bedroom door.
". . . Lovely trophy," Debra Lee's voice could be heard saying as Werner knocked on the door.
The door was opened from within. Neither girl had on a stitch of clothing, and they were both flushed and panting.
"What have you two been up to?" Werner asked.
"Let me help you take your things off," Margarita suggested.
"Don't try to change the subject-what were you two laughing about?" he asked as they both stripped him with the nimbleness of wardrobe mistresses making fast stage-costume changes.
"We'll show you later," Debra Lee promised. "Oh, what a beautiful big hard-on you've got already! What were you doing in the bathroom? Jacking off?" Without waiting for a denial, she bent down and kissed the head of his cock while her partner began sucking on Werner's nipples and rubbing her breasts against him.
"I feel like a net with you two volleying back and forth over me," Werner protested, laughing.
They were all sufficiently high not to waste any time getting down to business. It had been a foregone conclusion that they were going to end up experimenting with the further possibilities for three-way sex tonight.
Debra Lee's hands were all over his body as she , sucked passionately on his cock, getting it ready for the long and demanding session of lovemaking she and her lesbian lover no doubt had in mind. Meanwhile, Margarita slid down on her knees to join her friend in stimulating Werner's lower body. The foreplay went on for a considerable time before Werner's swollen testicles felt the first wet flick of a tongue on them. Margarita began licking Werner between the thighs while Debra Lee greedily fed herself on his prick. Werner arched his back in response, enabling Margarita to insert a fingertip into his relaxed anus. They truly were a doubles team, collaborating skillfully to make him quiver with anticipation and lust.
Debra Lee wanted to feel Werner's throbbing prick spurting into her mouth again in the very near future, but at the moment she preferred to be fucked by the big beauty she was sucking on. The juices were flowing in her steaming pussy just from swinging on Werner's truly exceptional cock. She pulled her clinging lips away from the Austrian's oversized pleasure-prong and let go of the heavy, sperm-laden balls swaying below it.
"I want to suck you all the way off later, Werner, because it's the one thing that Margarita can't do for me," she breathed. "But right now I want you to screw me."
Werner didn't say anything, but his passion-glazed eyes told her that he was just as eager to do the fucking as she was to be on the receiving end of it.
"I'm glad I'm not jealous, since neither of you is bothering to ask me what I'd like to do or have done to me," Margarita reminded them, laughing. "I want us all to be happy-sooner or later! Werner, you fuck her first. I'll watch-and help out."
Debra Lee had already clambered up onto the bed and gotten on her back; Werner was joining her there, his stiff, saliva-glistening prick swaying slightly, his big balls drawn up high in their hairy sac. Debra Lee parted her legs to let Werner kneel between her thighs. She brought her knees up. He grasped his rod with one hand, aiming the large blunt end of it at the mouth of her cunt. She slipped her fingers through her curly bush and spread open her pussy lips for the penetration they both wanted so badly. The saliva-slickened crown of the penis entered her quickly, her cunt stretching to accommodate its bulk as Werner applied a steady pressure, sinking into her vulva inch by solid inch. She moaned with delight as he took her, her clit already erect and pushing forward against the upper part of the shaft he was feeding into her as she thrilled to the way his potent ten-inch giant filled her pussy almost beyond its capacity, engorging her with cock. Her womb finally gave way before the relentless onslaught enough to allow his tool to sink inside her all the way to the balls. Their pubic hairs meshed. Werner let out a faint groan as Debra Lee tightened her well-exercised vaginal muscles around his embedded shaft.
He remained braced above her body on his elbows while he lifted his ass, slowly withdrawing his huge endowment from her clinging hot-box until only the bulging knob was still thrust between her quivering pussy lips. Then, just as deliberately, he began feeding the hard meat to her again. He'd only pushed about half-way back in when she lurched upward in impatient desire, forcing his slippery shaft to slide all the way to the bottom of her twat again. Werner couldn't resist the fast pace she demanded as she threw her arms around his neck and started to fuck him, making his cock pump in and out of her in hard, deep-scouring strokes that she answered with rhythmic counter-thrusts from her cunt ... it wasn't long before the tennis star was making the wildly wonderful drive toward a climax.
She began to hump him faster, digging her heels into the mattress to obtain better leverage. Werner matched the more violent pace with his pounding cock. Debra Lee fucked him faster and faster. Their bodies glossed over with a film of hot sweat, and the smell of sex filled the air and reached Margarita's nostrils as she watched, wide-eyed, wildly turned on by the spectacle of their lust. Each masterful thrust of Werner's big cock sent new thrills rippling hotly through Debra Lee's body. She began moaning loudly. The bedsprings squealed and the frame rattled as though it were about to self-destruct under them. Margarita added her weight to the mattress and caressed Werner's humping ass with both hands.
Debra Lee cried out shrilly as she approached a roaring peak of sensation. Her vagina clamped down possessively on Werner's prick, as though he had any intention of pulling it out of her by then. Without slowing her frantic fucking movements up against his groin, she suddenly tensed, unable to think of anything except the orgasm she was having. She could feel her hot fluids flowing around that miraculous prick, could hear the wet, sloshing sounds of their screwing as she bucked and tossed through the various stages of a violent, spasmodic release.
"Fuck Margarita now," she gasped.
"I'll save my load for you if you want me to," Werner offered gallantly.
Debra Lee smiled at Margarita. "We'll share it." Werner pulled his still-stiff prick from her juicy pussy without saying anything, fairly certain that he knew what she had in mind.
Margarita was already lying beside Debra Lee on her back, her long legs blatantly opened for him. Debra Lee raised herself to watch as Werner's huge cock, wet and slippery from her vagina, slowly eased itself deep into her lover's pussy, finding the sight erotically pleasing. She experienced no tinge of jealousy at Margarita's wild response to Werner, who as a male posed no real threat to their relationship.
Werner fucked Margarita to and through an orgasm, displaying astounding self-control by still not coming himself. Panting, he withdrew his hard cock and rolled over onto his back-to rest, as he thought. Immediately, Debra Lee and Margarita fought to lick the vaginal juices from his tool before taking turns sucking it. Margarita went down on him first, enjoying herself immensely, almost coming again in her excitement as she fucked her throat on that glorious erection that hadn't failed either woman yet.
"I can't hold back any longer!" Werner suddenly moaned. "I'm going to come if you horny bitches keep this up!"
Margarita happened to have his cock in her mouth at the moment, but she quickly pulled away and let Debra Lee take over the job. Seconds after Debra Lee took the blood-engorged, frustrated prick into her mouth and down her throat, grasping Werner's balls and tickling them lightly with her fingernails, she felt his cock pulsate strongly as the jism fairly blasted out of it and filled her gullet, forcing her to gulp down the thick hot cream until she was almost blue in the face from swallowing while holding her breath. Gasping, she released the jerking shaft and let Margarita's thirsty lips drink from the male fountain too. As she pulled her mouth off the temporarily depleted cock, the two women's mouths met in an impassioned kiss, sharing the semen between them.
"I almost forgot," Werner reminded the two women some time later, when they had all begun to recover from the exciting triple come they'd shared. "You never told me what was so funny-what you two were giggling about before I came in."
"Oh-that." Debra Lee began to giggle girlishly all over again at the thought.
"We'll show you ... " Margarita went over to a shelf and picked up the two large trophies they had been awarded earlier in the evening. The two silver-plated statuettes were not unlike the stylized Oscars awarded to movie stars, except that they were sleeker and a bit taller.
"You weren't--? " Werner half-guessed.
"Come on, Debby," Margarita insisted, blushing a little herself as she set the two awards on the floor. "Show Werner what we were doing."
Holding hands to steady each other, the two female tennis stars squatted obscenely down over their trophies, making a slow, careful simultaneous descent onto the objects, allowing the smooth silver heads to penetrate their vaginas like the heads of two metal dildos. With the extraordinary muscle control they had developed in the course of their athletic careers, both women moved rapidly up and down, fucking the trophies, each descent consuming more of the awards' main bodies, until they were impaled on them to the heavy bases.
"Oh God, this is terrific, even better than doing it with Dicky!" Debra Lee groaned, referring to one of the dildos they'd shown Werner earlier. "I can come this way if you can, darling ... I'm just about there! These fucking things are so hard-and so cold! Ooooh, it's freezing the inside of my cunt! But I love it!"
"Me, too," Margarita gasped. "Come! Come with me! I'm going to, too! Let's do it together! Ohhhhh-shiiiiit yesssssl"
A moment later, as the Austrian stud watched, fascinated, from his excellent vantage point on the bed, both girls fell backward onto the floor in the throes of orgasm, their trophies still jammed within their cunts to the bases. When they pulled them out, both silver statuettes were gleaming with the fluids of female release.
"You can't buy lacquer like that anywhere," Debra Lee panted triumphantly as she petted her award, which glistened even more brightly as she polished it with her hand, spreading the cunt juice deposited around on it.
Werner assumed that nothing could top what they'd just shown him, but once again the two imaginative tennis stars proved him wrong. This time they insisted that he provide them with a
"shower" originating from within himself-a golden shower, to be exact.
While the two nude girls fondled one another in the bathtub, Werner directed a stream of warm urine over their faces, breasts, and vaginas. They reveled in the warm flow, and doing it gave him a strange new sensation of sexual power and domination over his charming partners in this water sport. A moment later, he was astounded to find himself requesting that they return the favor if possible, so that he could find out what it felt like. They squatted over one another in the tub, with Werner lying on its bottom in his own piss, and both women released torrents of golden water onto his open-mouthed face and writhing torso. To climax the session, Debra Lee lowered her still-dripping vagina over Werner's drenched face and "forced" him to eat her pussy to orgasm again while Margarita performed fellatio on the opposite end of their willing, urine-soaked victim.
"Piss on you," Debra Lee said jokingly as she rubbed her cunt insistently against his frantically working lips and tongue.
"I think I'm drowning," Werner grunted out indistinctly between slurps at her sex.
"Then it's time for you to go down for the third time!" Debra Lee retorted heatedly, watching Margarita's mouth pump up and down on Werner's prick.
Nothing but the slippery sounds of moist flesh making contact with moist flesh could be heard in the vicinity of the lodge for some time thereafter.
The next day, like a flock of migrating birds, the entire tennis crowd was gone, including the two stars.
Werner spent the entire afternoon pounding a tennis ball against a blank wall to stretch his muscles after the grueling night he'd been put through. His service was improving, but that no longer mattered much to him. He didn't really enjoy playing tennis as a solitaire game any more than he liked having sex with his own trusty right hand. The game was interesting to him only as a potential competitive lure to more women like Debra Lee and Margarita ... there wasn't a man at the resort who could replace a pretty girl as competitor. As the summer wore on, playing with women guests didn't noticeably improve Werner's game, but it did make him a frequent scorer and improved the quality of his playing around. And Werner, like Debra Lee and Margarita, enjoyed being a winner in his own chosen field of endeavor.
EIGHT
Vacancies on weekends became a problem at the resort during the fall months. Maggie-definitely no candidate for sainthood-blamed just about everybody and everything for the slump except Werner, who at least had the excuse that there was no snow yet and who earned his keep during these slow weeks by getting things ready for the upcoming ski season. During the season itself he was protected from Maggie's criticism by the snow piles, which made it possible for him to spend most of his time away from the main buildings, up at his lodge. In a sense, he was the only untouchable employee at Snow Valley.
So the chief victim of the autumn decline in attendance was Chuck Trevor, who was constantly expected to come up with new and brilliant promotional gimmicks, get them well publicized, and make them pay off.
"I not only get the shitty end of the stick," he complained to Werner one day, "I get it rammed up my ass, too."
Chuck's latest, desperate inspiration was to set aside certain weekends for swinging singles only-the implication being that the resort would turn into one big orgy for the duration. Chuck wasn't about to leave things to chance, however. He arranged for every promiscuous young woman he knew, either personally or by reputation, to be invited to Snow Valley as a guest of the management for the first such weekend. To further spice things up, he imported half a dozen call girls from New York City, paid them in advance out of his own pocket, and gave them general instructions to lay every guy they could during the three days.
Things swung, all right. The only ones who weren't happy were the hotel maids who had to keep changing sex-soiled sheets in the rooms!
Word of mouth swelled the next swinging singles' weekend crowd into a three-fourths-capacity house. That was nothing short of sensational for a non-holiday October weekend; the only time in the resort's history that it had been topped was when they'd sponsored an industrial convention several years before.
On the third singles-only weekend, Trevor added a further refinement, making sure that the resort would be adequately stocked with celebrities, male and female, for the other guests to idolize and pursue. Although Chuck was careful to select only big names who were also notorious for their liberal lifestyles, nobody really expected any star-struck secretary up for the weekend from Manhattan to end up in bed with her favorite movie star. Werner, however, added to his laurels as a certified star-fucker by seducing not one but two television personalities. In his case lightning struck twice in the same place-the ski lodge, as usual-in the person of cute and alarmingly precious Vicky Morrow, the star of a successful new television comedy series. Since she was only fifteen, her omnipresent mother, who was also an actress, accompanied her as chaperone-or so everybody assumed who didn't already know the inside story about this liberated mother-and-daughter team.
Werner had been sexually inactive for a full week, which amounted to a record for him, but he suddenly dropped the dubious joys of celibacy and sprang back to life when the two television stars arrived. Valerie Morrow was over forty, but still glowing youthful, sufficiently so to qualify for one of those "which is the mother and which is the daughter?" tests in the dishwashing liquid commercial. Werner, still bronzed from an idle summer in the sun, made a striking figure even in the mob of sophisticates who jammed the resort for the swinging singles' weekend, and he had no difficulty in assuming the role of unofficial escort for the Morrows during their stay. Valerie had dumped Vicky's father the year before and never remarried, and they'd come to the resort alone.
"I always wondered what you ski pros did in between snowstorms," Valerie remarked after an hour of thrashing and biting and orgasmic screaming with Werner in the cozy privacy of the ski lodge. She had been so easy to make, so willing to submit to his every sexual demand on her, that, good as she was in bed, it had almost taken away some of the pleasure he usually got out of adding another women to his list of conquests. For all her celebrity and beauty, Valerie Morrow had behaved like just another sex-starved housewife having her first fling with extramarital fucking.
"I make my own snow, as you see," he laughed, pointing to the puddles of fresh white semen slowly congealing on her body as she lay next to him, panting.
"I'd like to try skiing down a whole slopeful of it."
"That's the problem-the product seems to be first-rate, but I just can't seem to increase production to meet the demand."
"Maybe you need steroids," she mocked, "or, at the very least, some fresh inspiration ... a guy as good-looking as you are must get laid so often and so easily that the thrill's begun to wear off."
She had struck closer to the truth than he cared to think about. "Well, I'm always open to lurid new ideas."
"Then how about a night with a fifteen-year-old nymphomaniac-a real Lolita type?"
He hardened at the mere idea, not making the obvious connection just yet. "It sounds different, to say the least. Do you have anyone in particular in mind?" he asked as evenly as he could.
"Vicky, of course."
Even a man who'd been around as much as Werner had was a bit jolted at the suggestion.
"Your own daughter?" he blurted out after a stunned pause.
"Sure, why not?"
That was a hard one to answer. To gain some time, he rolled over on top of her again and re-inserted himself into her vagina, beginning a slow entry-and-retreat process as they talked about it. The whole notion of a woman offering her own under-age daughter to him was enormously titillating in its perverse way. The only way he could give it any prolonged, serious thought without exploding spontaneously was to occupy himself by performing intercourse while he thought it over.
"You'd actually let me do it?" he asked incredulously.
"Why, Werner, I do believe I've shocked you! And here everyone's been telling me what a jaded swinger you are ... what's the big fucking deal, anyway? Vicky takes after me, frankly. She's a hot little number who's been around adults and exposed to all kinds of adult behavior-including sexual behavior-since she was, I don't know, eight years old at the very least. I know it must seem like the absolute depth of depravity to some people, but I realized a couple of years ago that she was growing up awfully fast and was going to start screwing around soon whether I liked it or not. So I had a woman-to-woman talk with her about it, quite openly. We made a deal together-I pick out the men, at least until she's eighteen. She can accept them or reject them after that. I figure that this way, she'll develop some taste and discretion in the matter ... have the advantage of my experience, for what that's worth."
"It sounds pretty sensible, now that I think about it," Werner grunted in mid-stroke. "But how do you know I'll meet with her approval?"
"Oh, don't be so modest! She's already told me that she'd love to go to bed with you. She said, and I quote, 'He has such a yummy ass and cock in those tight pants he wears that I'd like to fuck him for days, Mom!'"
This little revelation triggered an unexpectedly abrupt and powerful climax in him.
"I think it's snowing again," Valerie gasped happily.
"Sorry," he said wryly. "Thinking about becoming a dirty old man preying upon innocent young girls always makes me pop my gun prematurely."
"You're not old, she's hardly innocent, and you can aim down my firing range like that any time," Valerie assured him.
"I can keep fucking until you come if you like."
"Thanks, darling, but you'd better save it for the younger generation. Why don't you finish me off with your hand?"
He pulled out and let her show him what she wanted. He lay flat on his back while she knelt beside his hip and trapped his wrist between her firm thighs. His thumb pressed between her buttocks and stimulated her anal opening while she grasped his fingers and fanned them out over her cunt, easing two of them inside to spread her lips open. Valerie encouraged him to stimulate her breasts with his free hand while, rocking slowly back and forth on his fingers, she fondled herself with both hands. Within seconds the steady pressure on her clitoris made her erupt, bouncing up and down on the mattress, fucking herself on his hand, coating his buried fingers with her slick emissions.
"Is Vicky anything like you?" Werner asked as she got ready to leave.
"She's better," Valerie told him bluntly. "At her age it's all still new and everything's a hot turn-on. Plus-I taught her everything I know. Now it's your turn to play teacher. Between the two of us, we ought to give her a pretty thorough erotic education."
Vicky knocked on the door of the lodge shortly before dusk. She was alone.
"Hi, Werner," she said, affecting nonchalance, when he opened the door. "Remember me?"
"You do look vaguely familiar ... "
"I'm America's Sweetheart with her pretty pink pussy," she said with a pout. "Little Miss Prissy of Prime Time."
"Oh yes, come right in, pussycat." He had to laugh at what she'd said. "Arid in case you don't remember, I'm Werner-the big bad wolf."
"Mom says you certainly ate her up in one gulp, this afternoon."
He felt himself blushing a little at the thought that Valerie had told her daughter the details Of their tryst. Werner was naked except for a bathrobe, and the mere sight of Vicky's nubile charms had made his cock begin pressing out against the quilted silk fabric, seeking an exit to relieve the pressure.
"Is it all right if I spend the night up here?" Vicky asked slyly, still playing the role of the innocentingenue for all it was worth.
"Sure," he told her. "You can sleep right next to my little boy."
"I thought you weren't married ... is he your love child?" Vicky asked in all sincerity. "I don't think the word 'illegitimate' is very polite."
"I guess you could call him that-my love child, that is. His name's Peter, but sometimes I call him Dick."
"Oh, you were just teasing me!" she realized with a laugh. "Shame on you! I thought you might be serious. I'd like to meet him, any way."
She was staring brazenly at his protruding crotch. Werner reached inside the robe and pulled out his swollen penis. It glistened at the tip with the advance liquid of pending ejaculation. She was exciting him to an unbelievable degree simply by standing there looking at him, exchanging sexual banter with him-indeed, she was wildly arousing him just by being there, offering herself to him. He wondered if a guy could come just by being turned on, without his cock being so much as touched ... a waking wet dream, so to speak.
"Say hello to Peter, alias Dick, alias Werner," he quipped.
She was examining his endowment with that same disconcerting combination of child-like curiosity and pleasure and very adult calculatedness. "My, he is a big boy, isn't he?" she breathed, not taking her eyes off it for so much as a second.
Werner moved his hand over his cock in a light caressing motion. "Yes ... he's precocious, like you ... in fact, he's so mature for his age that he--likes to be kissed when he's introduced to pretty little girls. He almost expects it, as a matter-of-fact."
"Well, I guess we mustn't disappoint him, then, or he won't like me." Still fully dressed-she hadn't even had time to pull off her coat-Vicky knelt on the floor at Werner's feet and wet her full, sensual lips with the tip of a pink tongue before thrusting her face forward, into his groin, and feeding more than half of the fleshy cylinder into her mouth. The thickness of his cock seemed to inhibit her for a moment, pulling the corners of her lips grotesquely apart, but somehow, groaning with pleasure, the girl managed to seal her lips around his full circumference. Slowly, with an expertise belying the innocence of her appearance and manner until now, she began to slide her mouth back and forth over the throbbing length of cockshaft in the measured cadence of fellatio.
"Suck it, baby," Werner gasped, encouraging her.
Valerie had indeed taught her daughter well. Werner was almost tempted to give the younger Morrow the prize when it came to the fine art of cocksucking. Vicky was pleasing him with her mouth as skillfully as any of the countless women who'd gone down on him. And Werner had often had to cajole some of the more inhibited ones into attempting the act, whereas sweet, innocent little Vicky was sucking cock as though his were a stick of hard sugar candy and she just couldn't get enough of it in her mouth and against her tongue at one time to satisfy her hunger. She breathed deeply and rhythmically through flared nostrils, like a diver hyperventilating her lungs before going down-and then Werner realized the purpose of these preparations. Apt analogy: Vicky went down all right-all the way down to the very root of his thick penis, plunging the swollen head right down her throat, which she had carefully relaxed for this supreme effort. Werner gasped as a jet of sexual heat rippled up through his balls and body, making him break out in sweat underneath the robe. He tore open the sash and shrugged the garment off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind him in a heap of silk. Then, naked, he crouched over the kneeling girl and grasped her bobbing head between his hands to steady it as he fed her his cock, groaning and shuddering every time her hot, wet tongue flicked over his sensitive areas. She was bathing his prick in her saliva as she sucked and the "feeling was incredibly arousing. Her oral talent brought him to the boiling point all too quickly.
Vicky pulled away rather abruptly, panting for breath, red-faced, as the first splashes of his ejaculation shot into her mouth, letting the semen arc past her and hit the floor.
"I don't like the taste of come," she explained apologetically. "It's like sour yogurt."
"Your mother loves it," he said.
"She also loves screwing eighteen-year-old jerks ... to each his own."
He got up from the couch on which he had fallen immediately after orgasm, suddenly eager to strip her and see her supple young body in its entirety, to find out if it lived up to the erotic promise of her oral performance on him. She stood there like a child being readied for bed by its parent as he first removed her blouse and then her jeans, followed rapidly by her Junior Miss bra and panties.
What he saw when he was finished was no disappointment, although it was quite different from what he usually found after he and his potential bed partner were undressed. Vicky's vagina stood out from its furry nest fully half an inch, the lips like the petals of a full-blown rose. He had never seen one quite so prominent even on a mature woman, and he had certainly seen few that looked so appetizing. It was a strange but somehow harmonious match for the twin-nippled swell of her small but perfectly formed bosom, which still had some expansion to do.
"I'd like to eat you up from top to bottom," he confessed.
She lay back on the fur rug by the fire with a casualness about exposing and offering herself that, again, was momentarily unnerving to him. But a second later he moved toward her and knelt to spread her finely lathed legs.
"Make a wish," she invited him with an impudent nonchalance. "Just don't pull me apart, though! You look strong enough to."
His face eagerly plunged into the well between her thighs and drank thirstily. He could almost feel the suction of her lower lips kissing his, welcoming him, adhering wetly to his mouth and cheeks.
"Mom told me what a horny muff diver you were," Vicky said salaciously. "Dive into mine. Dive deep ... oh shit yeah! Do it, man! Eat me there, use your tongue on my cunt! Oh God! It's good, it really feels great!"
A long time passed unnoticed in the sightless, soundless cavern of her cunt before he became aware of another presence in the room. He pulled his face away from Vicky's vagina and lifted his eyes over the rise of her luscious young body, and saw Valerie Morrow standing nearby-naked-watching him going down on her nubile daughter with an approving smile on her lips.
"Don't let me disturb you," the older woman said. "Eat your fill-it's delicious, isn't it?"
"You've sampled it?" Werner panted. Nothing these two could tell him about their unusual mother-daughter relationship could surprise him now.
"I've done more than just sample it," Valerie laughed.
"Mom's gotten me into the whole bisexuality scene," Vicky explained.
Werner returned his attention to her. There was a limit to how long any man could feast on pussy, even a habitually gluttonous one like himself. If Vicky had had an orgasm while he was tonguing her twat, there was no way he could determine so ... her body writhed and trembled almost nonstop, accompanied by a soundtrack of low moaning throughout the oral sex he'd performed upon her. Perhaps, for her, it had been a more-or-less continuous series of orgasms, he speculated.
At any rate, he felt the urge now to penetrate her firm but tender flesh with her mother as an unexpected but far from unwelcome observer.
"I thought I'd just drop by and see how the two of you were doing," Valerie said as he straightened up.
"We've been getting along fine ... just great, as Vicky put it a minute ago." Werner fumbled with his penis, rebuilding its firmness with a quick series of strokes. When he moved to mount and enter Vicky, however, her mother intervened.
"Here," Valerie said, "let me put it in for you."
With considerable delicacy and finesse, she separated the lush folds of her daughter's labia and guided the dark red head of Werner's erection between them, pushing it gently but insistently down into the main corridor of Vicky's cuntwhich yielded readily to the pressure and distension, although she was exceptionally tight. Once Werner had eased himself into the girl to the hilt and began the slow, syncopated rhythm of actual intercourse, Valerie went over and squatted above Vicky's face, presenting her breasts to Werner, who was fucking the girl in a kneeling position, her legs around his hips.
"Kiss the place where you came from, honey," Valerie told her daughter in a husky whisper as the girl began to rock back and forth on the cock thrust deep into her taut young vagina.
Vicky squirmed a bit to get into the proper position. Her face tilted back. Between her breasts, Werner watched as her pink tongue poked up, out of her panting mouth, and licked around the lips of her mother's vagina. Valerie spread her cunt open with the fingers of one hand as she played with her own hardened nipples with the other, and pushed down, mashing her pussy against her daughter's eager face. Vicky's tongue slithered up into Valerie's wet, hot gap and began to lick and tickle and tease as the older woman's more maturely developed body quivered and jerked in the throes of connilingual bliss. Valerie stared into Werner's eyes as he fucked Vicky and Vicky tongued her mother's pussy. It was no wonder that Werner suffered once again from the delicious disappointment of an almost instantaneous, premature ejaculation, flooding the interior of Vicky's cunt with a quantity of come at least equal to that which he had fired across the floor earlier.
"Well, Werner?" Valerie asked calmly, after she, too, had exploded against her daughter's mouth. "How do you like her?"
"I can only say that Vicky is a younger version of her beautiful and talented mother."
"You lived up to advance billing, too," Vicky told him, laughing. "Only it was over too soon. Can we do it again?"
"We can try our damnedest." It was extraordinary, what having two desirable females instead of one was doing for Werner's potency. His erection was reviving rapidly, helped along by a few strokes of Valerie's warm hand.
"Oh, goody!" Vicky got off the floor and appropriated the bed, automatically parting her legs again when Werner climbed up on the mattress with her.
She wasn't particularly surprised when he didn't position himself immediately to penetrate her with his prick, even though it was thrusting stiffly by now. She could understand, after the fantastic eat he'd given her before, that he might want to taste her wet twat again before screwing her. Remembering how much she'd enjoyed having all of his throbbing meat in her mouth and throat, she was tempted to suggest that Werner twist his body around on top of hers so that they could sixty-nine in front of her mother. But Vicky remained silent, wanting to be fucked again even more than wanting to give Werner another blow job, and also sensing that Werner would want to do some screwing before having his cock sucked.
"Go ahead and fuck the horny little angel, Werner!" Valerie coaxed. "If she and I weren't both uptight for hard cock we'd never have come up here in the first place!"
His hands running lightly over Vicky's outer thighs, Werner began kissing and licking his way up each leg toward the girl's cunt. Valerie stepped over to the edge of the bed, looking down at them and fondling her own ripe tits.
Raising his head from between Vicky's thighs, Werner looked at Valerie and said, "Don't be so impatient, baby. After already coming twice, I'll be able to last long enough to give you both a good fucking before I shoot off again."
"You'd better," Valerie threatened playfully. "And we'll expect you to come more than once ... right, honey?"
Vicky didn't answer. She simply lurched forward as Werner suddenly planted his open mouth against her cunt lips and rammed his tongue into her. As he snaked his tongue deep inside her seething pussy and began to swab its walls, she lowered her ass back down to the mattress, letting the cheeks rest in his hands. He tilted her crotch at a better angle for eating, and then she thrilled to the feverish friction of his tongue on her clit, between her cunt lips, around them-he seemed to be hotly licking her everywhere at once.
"Werner's very good at that, isn't he, darling?" Valerie observed.
Again, Vicky was too aroused to answer except with a deep groan of lust. She was caught up in the erotic frenzy that his lips and tongue were giving her. But, as she reached down to grab Werner's hair and push his head down between her legs, he took his fingers away from her squirming ass and pulled his mouth and tongue off her throbbing clit and wet cunt.
"I'll finish you off another time, baby," he promised her lewdly. "Right now I want your mother's permission to bury my dick in your hot, juicy pussy again!"
"Tell him how much you want to be fucked, Vicky!" Valerie urged, masturbating herself as she watched the couple writhing on the bed.
Vicky pressed a hand over her own pulsating mons and stared into Werner's eyes. "I want to be fucked!" she demanded hoarsely. "Do it! Fuck me! Fuck me a long time, do it until I come around your cock!"
"Okay, kid-whatever the little lady wants!"
Balancing himself on one elbow, Werner guided his cock into her sweet box himself this time-Valerie's fingers were busy inside her own cunt, frigging away in a blur of autoerotic motion as she watched the stud getting ready to screw her daughter in front of her lust-glazed eyes. Werner let no more than the swollen glans of his rigid penis slip inside Vicky's twitching cunt, while he moved his hand until he was supporting the weight of his upper body on both hands and arms. Then-his tongue darting around his wet lips-he slowly began to ease his stiff shaft down into the girl's palpitating pussy, inch by inexorably filling inch. The hard tool was only about half-way inside her when Vicky pushed upward impatiently and forced it to penetrate her all the way to the balls.
Werner let out a grunt as her heated vaginal walls clamped around his cock. Their pubic hairs mingled, and Vicky gasped as she realized that she was so turned on that it would take only a few thrusts to send her melting into a spasmodic release at last. She saw that her mother was kneeling on the bed and putting one hand between Werner's thighs to caress his balls and ass crack. Vicky resisted her impulse to practice flexing her cunt muscles the way her mother had taught her, afraid that by clamping down on Werner's embedded prick any harder she might send him into a climax again.
He started thrusting in and out of her, slowly pistoning all of that glorious hard prick in and then almost out of her clinging cunt-and she instinctively made greedy counter-thrusts of her own to recapture the full length of it each time it vacated her. She was getting close to orgasm without even trying, so she stopped worrying about it and just lay back to enjoy the ride.
"Fuck me! Oh God-I'm going to come!" she announced.
Werner lowered his face until his sensuous mouth was only inches from Vicky's panting lips. She felt his warm, moist breath on her face as he gasped, "Go on and make it, baby. Come! I've got myself under control this time and I can fuck you through two comes and still have a loaded hard-on for your hot-assed mama. Come, baby. Come on my cock!"
He had subtly quickened and varied the tempo of his powerful thrusts. Vicky's vaginal muscles squeezed and caressed his rod in the same rhythm, and she was there before she knew it. She started to tell Werner and her mother that she was coming, that she wanted, if possible, to feel his sperm spurting out of his cock and rinsing her spasming cunt while she came ... but the ski instructor recognized her symptoms and covered her mouth with his before she could speak, and she threw her arms around his superb body and returned his passionate, tongue-lashing kiss as the steady impalement of his prick pushed her body over the final hurdle.
Werner put his hands down to grasp her grinding hips. Without once faltering in his masterful, woman-pleasing thrusts, he dug his fingers into the cheeks of the girl's wildly jiggling ass. He then rode higher, his pumping cock making scorching contact with the point of her fully extended clitoris-and Vicky bucked and lurched and thrashed her way through an orgasm that was shattering in its intensity as her mother watched and urged her on with lewd cries of "Do it, Vicky! Fuck him, milk his cock! Do it, do it-come, oh come baby come!"
Vicky climaxed from head to foot, her body vibrating like a puppet's on a taut-drawn string, her eyes rolling upwards in their sockets, her tongue working frantically against Werner's as he went on deep-kissing her as he felt her cunt convulsing repeatedly around the solid mass of his steely hard-on. Then, sure that he had satisfied her, he broke the kiss and carefully pulled himself out of her. She tried to hold him back.
"Oh no no no!" she protested breathlessly. "You said you'd make me come twice!"
"You came at least twenty times," Werner laughed. "Any more right now and your cunt would be tied up in knots."
"Besides, it's my turn now, Vicky," Valerie said firmly.
Pouting a little, Vicky nevertheless lay back and rested for a moment as her mother began to embrace and caress Werner's sweaty, still-aroused body, both of them standing beside the bed.
"i don't want to be too greedy," Vicky said graciously as she gradually calmed down after her violent delayed come. "Go on and fuck him, Mom."
"I'm the one being greedy-and I'm not at all ashamed of it," Valerie laughed. "This is supposed to be your party, Vicky, and if I can't wait I'm not going to hesitate to finger-fuck myself some more."
"If there's any finger-fucking done I'm going to do it," Werner said. "I have a better idea, though ... you move up here where I can get at your pussy, Valerie, and I'll tongue you a little while I fuck our little Vicky to another good, long come. That ought to keep her happy for a while. You don't mind, do you, Valerie?"
"The day I turn down the kind of cuntlapping you do, I'll know I'm dead," the older woman retorted. "Let's get it on!"
She went along with his instructions and carefully positioned herself where Werner could get at her cunt with his mouth and tongue. Werner only had to twist his torso slightly to bring his chest into exciting contact with Vicky's small but promising and already quite exciting breasts. As Werner buried his face in Valerie's crotch, he started screwing Vicky again. The girl hunched along with the slow, deep thrusts that were a Werner Kranz specialty, thrilling to the delightful pronging again, her excitement increased by the sight and sound of her fucker slurping away at her mother's snatch. Vicky felt a little giddy, the thorough plowing conspiring with the delectable fragrance of Valerie's aroused pussy to intoxicate her. The faint taste of her own vaginal secretions still lingered in her mouth, deposited there by Werner's tonguing kisses ... the characteristic odors and sounds of sex added to her lust.
Her mother was writhing as she sat on the ski instructor's ruggedly handsome face; Vicky had only to lift her head a couple of inches to see every detail of how Werner's extraordinary mouth was glued to her mother's pussy. She knew that the steady probing and swabbings of his tongue must be driving Valerie wild. She heard her mother's shameless moans of pleasure getting uncontrollably louder and knew that Valerie was rapidly approaching orgasm.
Turned on by the taste of Valerie's hot, moistly clinging cunt flesh, Werner began pumping his prick faster in and out of the tight vise of Vicky's young pussy as the girl's mother's fingers entangled in his hair, urging him to eat her even harder. Vicky, humping along on top of Werner's pounding cock, saw that he had moved his tongue to her mother's clit. She watched as Valerie spasmed. Vicky was getting very close to another orgasm herself. Werner didn't slow his swift thrusts into her and she hoped he'd forgotten his promise to save his load, and would instead just let his prick spurt into her cunt. Vicky loved to feel a man going off inside her like that!
Within another thirty seconds, she convulsed deliriously around his pistoning prick, rolling her head from side to side and screaming in wild abandon as she came deep in her vaginal recesses, her whole body wracked by pleasure. And Werner, dependable stallion that he was, just kept slamming his cock into her until she'd shuddered through another series of multiple climaxes.
"It's easy to tell that you really like to fuck," Werner commented coarsely after Vicky had finally stopped all movement. "I bet you've had a lot of practice, too-young as you are."
"Maybe I'm just a fast learner," Vicky retorted with a smile, clamping down with her vaginal muscles on the cock that was still jammed hard and deep inside her temporarily satisfied cunt.
"I'd better shift over to your hot mother," Werner said, holding Vicky's gaze as he withdrew and mounted Valerie, who had positioned herself beside her daughter on the bed, legs spread in invitation. "Maybe she'll be willing to let me save my first load and screw you again?"
"Now I'm the one who's got a better idea." Valerie guided Werner's cock to her pussy. "Just screw me through a quickie, darling, and then Vicky can suck you off if she wants to. There's nothing that gets me hotter than tasting come and cunt juice mixed together on a guy's dick."
Werner shoved himself into her, beginning to wonder if he'd be able to hold out for the duration of this marathon his two partners evidently had in mind. Valerie wrapped her shapely legs around his narrow waist and gave her daughter another lesson in the fine art of riding a cock, rotating her ass wildly as Vicky got into a comfortable position from which she could watch them balling. Vicky was fascinated, as always, by the erotic sight of her mother taking her pleasure from a virile young man. There was a weird sort of beauty in the rhythmic movements of the two nude bodies, and the fact that she was observing her own mother locked in such an intimate embrace helped chase away any doubts the girl may still have had about her own wanton behavior with Werner.
It didn't take Werner long to pump Valerie to an orgasm. They'd been kissing passionately while screwing, tongues interlaced, and Vicky was afraid that Werner was going to blast his load whether he wanted to or not.
But as soon as Valerie stopped humping her ass and lowered her legs from around Werner's hips, she turned to Vicky with a smile, gasping, "Don't worry, baby-this stud is incredible! His cock is still hard and his balls must be loaded with more come than most men shoot off in a week! And it's all yours now, honey ... be my guest!"
"It's a good thing Valerie didn't really switch her cunt motor on this time," Werner joked. "Otherwise, I'd have shot for sure ... in case you haven't already noticed, Vicky, your lovely mother's got a snapping turtle pussy that's out of this world, too-just like yours. I'm sorry-maybe I shouldn't be talking about your mother like that."
"Didn't I tell you?" Valerie laughed. "He's an old-fashioned guy."
Vicky had shifted her position sufficiently to allow Werner to stretch out on his back between her and Valerie and take advantage of a few moments in which to relax. "I don't mind," she said, her eyes focused on the proud thrust of his seemingly tireless cock and the cunt fluids that made the solid flesh gleam in the warm red light from the fireplace. She bent over and began licking the stiff shaft with the flat of her tongue, up one side and down the other, then around and around, until she'd licked all of the massive joint, from its thick base to swollen crown.
Lowering her face, Vicky opened her mouth wider and slipped her lips over the turgid glans, twirling her tongue gently and teasingly around the velvety-smooth cockhead before starting a firm suction. Werner, thrust upward slightly and Vicky took about two more inches of his shaft into her mouth. She began sucking him in earnest, bobbing her head up and down, as he lifted his ass from the mattress along with the regular plunges of her mouth. She wrapped her fist around that part of his tool she wasn't sucking on and milked it up and down as her lips pulled harder on the head and upper shaft.
"Vicky's very good at this, as I'm sure you've noticed," Valerie commented dryly. "It's easy to tell that she enjoys sucking as much as most men like being blown, isn't it?"
"I can't last much longer!" Werner warned with a rasping intake of breath.
"Good! Drain him, Vicky-suck him dry! Then we'll share his cream!"
Vicky quickly forced her mouth wider open and engulfed the rest of Werner's cock, taking the thick head down into her throat again. She began sucking twice as greedily as before, but no longer stroked his shaft with her fingers. Her mouth and tongue were doing the job more than adequately now. In no more than ten seconds and as many rapid lunges of her lips she felt the telltale shuddering and swelling of Werner's cock, and she almost thought she could feel the jism as it rushed through the core of his shaft ... then the big hard prick began jerking erratically inside her draining mouth as the first thick glob of warm male cream flooded her throat and backed up to fill her mouth.
Swallowing, Vicky waited until her mouth was full before clamping down tightly on Werner's shaft with two fingers in the familiar Masters and Johnson squeeze technique ... the spurts abruptly stopped, and Werner gasped in pain as his cock continued to throb violently in the throes of ejaculation, but no more semen could escape. Vicky pulled her dripping mouth from his ready-to-burst cockhead. Valerie was right there, her lips quickly sliding down over the agonizingly enlarged glans. Vicky was still swallowing the fresh come in her mouth as she released the pressure of her fingers and let the rest of Werner's potent load erupt into her mother's mouth in a geyser of come that nearly blew Valerie's head off.
Valerie kept sucking and swallowing until she'd drained Werner's rapidly softening shaft of its last few sluggish drops. Then-wishing there was another hard cock handy, ready to be shoved into her mouth or cunt to prolong this lewd pleasure indefinitely-she reluctantly let the weary cock-head slip from her mouth.
"It'll be a half-hour or so before even Werner can get another load built up, honey," she informed her daughter briskly. "He'll get another hard-on long before then, of course, if I know him ... but we really ought to let him rest for a little while now. I know you must be steaming inside from tasting his come, though, so I'll go down on you if you want."
"I don't believe you two," Werner laughed as he lay back, exhausted.
"Why not? What's wrong with it?" Valerie challenged him.
"Don't get me wrong," he half-apologized. "I'm enjoying every exhausting minute of this ... it's just that I'm surprised by it. Two women, mother and daughter, with absolutely no inhibitions about sex. It's amazing "
"I would've thought an old rogue like you was beyond the point of being surprised by anything," Vicky scoffed.
Valerie laughed. "She's a doll, isn't she?" she asked Werner.
"Absolutely," Werner agreed. "A living doll ... and I want Santa Claus to bring me one just like her for Christmas."
"But only if you're a very good boy," Vicky warned. "Good in bed, I mean."
"Try me, angel. Just try me."
She and her mother did. Without waiting half an hour, either.
The swinging singles' weekend continued to be so popular that Maggie was almost unhappy to see Thanksgiving approaching: it would mean skipping that extended weekend because regular reservations, most of them made far in advance, already guaranteed a full house.
"All we get on Thanksgiving is the dull family trade," she complained. "The cocktail lounge receipts will go way down, at least until the husbands start getting sick of their wives and kids and sneak off for a few quick belts on their own."
Maggie made a daily ritual of pouring over the account sheets. She loved the high-profit liquor trade that the swingers' weekends had brought the resort. It was obvious that guys on the make believed that liquor was quicker. If she could only get away with selling pot on the premises as well, she'd make a fortune.
After his debilitating marathon with Valerie and Vicky Morrow, Werner was more than content to put sex out of his mind for a week or two and watch the two women on television when he wasn't busying himself setting up the skiing operation in anticipation of the season's first decent snowfalls. There was equipment to be readied and extra personnel to be hired and trained. And-as his cock gradually recovered from the ordeal it had so recently been put through-he remembered that, inevitably, there would be new feminine fields for it to plow.
NINE
It seemed inevitable that someday Werner's extraordinary run of good luck would run out and he would meet a woman whom he desired excruciatingly but couldn't have-at least not on his own terms.
Joanna Travers was a lovely young British film actress, at Snow Valley to do some location shooting for a movie ostensibly set in the Pyrennes. Maggie loved having a Hollywood film crew on the premises, and Chuck Trevor even managed to line up minor roles for two of his managerial clients, so he shared Maggie's enthusiasm and eagerness to cooperate with the group. Unfortunately, there was no part for a skiing instructor in the script, so Werner could hope to serve as an extra in a couple of background shots, at the most. This humiliated him, despite the fact that he had no training as an actor whatsoever. He had always felt that he might have talent in that area, given half a chance to develop it.
Joanna didn't appreciate this assumption on his part. Werner had gone through his entire repertoire, from flattery to indifference, in an attempt to lure her into his bed during the filming, but Joanna remained impervious to his charms.
"I don't much like vain men," she confided to Chuck, knowing perfectly well that it would filter back to Werner through him. "He's nothing but a skier, after all, and the mountains in Europe are filled with them."
It was an additional disappointment to Werner when a bit part was assigned to one of his own subordinate skiing instructors who happened to be a drama student. Werner was relegated to part of the human set dressing in a group scene behind him-yards away from the cameras.
He would've avoided the whole thing if it hadn't been for Maggie's insistence that all resort personnel cooperate fully with the director and film crew.
Joanna was always at least polite, and unfortunately Werner finally got desperate enough to mistake this for interest in him at last.
"Come up to my ski lodge after today's shooting," he virtually begged her.
She laughed at his invitation. "I don't understand. What for?" she asked teasingly. "I don't ski."
"Then I'll make love to you instead," he promised fervently.
She threw back her aristocratic head and laughed mockingly if not downright derisively.
"I've been pursued-and caught-by some of the best-looking men in the world," she said. "All of them were fairly enjoyable and some of them were rather more than that ... but I have yet to meet a man I couldn't live without going to bed with. And you aren't him-that's for sure."
The blunt put-down flushed and confused him. He wasn't used to being dealt with so frankly by a mere woman.
"The trouble with being in my profession, Mr. Kranz," Joanna added formally, "is that everyone automatically assumes you got where you are via a casting couch and that you're some sort of sex maniac. I don't know how actors and actresses got this reputation, but I don't intend to encourage it. There's no more intercourse and no better intercourse going on in the theater and film world than there is anywhere else. Believe me, you're not missing anything."
The director interrupted: "Places, please, everybody. This will be our final snow sequence, so let's try to get it on the first take before the stuff melts and we have to ship in the foam kind."
Werner was forced to retreat as the film crew got down to business, to watch his latest idol from the sidelines as she performed magnificently and with British cool and professionalism. He wondered remotely whether Joanna Travers was so indifferent to him because she had a lover along with her.
"Haven't you scored yet?" Chuck whispered to him somewhat maliciously.
"She's nothing special," Werner lied.
Chuck looked at him cynically. Every man on the grounds had desired Joanna from the moment she'd checked in. He was vastly amused that Werner was probably going to have to admit defeat for once. He and Barney Ballard had developed a scoring system for Werner based on the fact that Werner usually bedded a girl within twenty-four hours of meeting her or turned his attention to someone less hard to get ... Joanna had been at
Snow Valley for no fewer than three days and Werner was still shadowing her like a friendly puppy hoping for a pat on the head. He might end up with his tail hanging between his legs, at this rate.
"I think Werner has finally met his match," Chuck confided to Barney later. "She's too much for him ... either she's frigid or a dyke, or she's not hard up for cock and can afford to be choosey."
Both men got an innocent pleasure out of their fellow employee's dilemma. Werner had taken his prowess in seduction for granted for so long that it was past time he shared, even if only temporarily, the frustration that lesser mortals had to go through in such situations.
Werner sat alone in the Fireside Lounge that night after dinner and brooded over his drinks. He was, of course, far too proud to admit to any form of failure, particularly when it concerned women.
Later, alone at the lodge, he tried to come up with some ego-soothing explanation of why he couldn't get through to Joanna. His liquor-numbed mind finally gave up the attempt and surrendered to sleep. In the morning he was rudely awakened by the telephone beside the bed.
"Hello," he grumbled into the receiver.
"Werner? It's Chuck. I've got great news ... I'm getting you into a magazine layout with Miss Iceberg herself. The studio wants to stir up some advance curiosity about this picture-and you've been elected to serve as publicity guinea pig."
"I thought they were all pulling out tomorrow," Werner said through his splitting headache.
"They are. You don't have to be with her to have the studio press agents plant gossip about you and her in the fan mags."
"What about these pictures?"
"That's why I'm calling. Get your ass out of that bed and put yourself together. We'll shoot enough crap to last for months. It'll be a nice little souvenir of your non-affair with her," Chuck couldn't resist adding.
By now Werner was more or less back in this world, evaluating what he was hearing instead of just absorbing it through his hangover.
"What does Joanna say about all this?" he demanded eagerly. The possibility had occurred to him that she may have instigated the photo session as a gesture of apology and willingness to get to know him better after all.
"It doesn't matter what she says. She has to do what the fucking studio wants. It's all part of the promotional clause in her contract."
"Well, I don't know, Chuck ... "
"What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?! Werner, you'll be the talk of middle-class America ... you'll have to fight the women off from your front door once the word gets out that you've scored with that luscious piece of Limey ass."
"But it would be fraudulent ... I haven't even fucked her."
"I know you haven't! What does that matter? Stand these broads on their heads and they all look alike any way. One hundred per cent of these Hollywood romances you read about are dreamed up by poor suckers like me, and the two people either don't know each other or hate each other's guts. Look, Werner, it'll be terrific exposure for you. The next time a hot-shit actress comes here she'll be begging for your cock."
He had Werner on the hook now.
"You're right, Chuck. It can't hurt. I'll be dressed and down there in an hour."
"Take your time. Make yourself look as good as possible, which shouldn't be difficult for you. We start with the pictures after lunch."
Joanna was surprisingly pleasant and cooperative during the lengthy photo session. It gave Werner a new perspective on her and new appreciation of her professionalism. She wasn't just another sex symbol willing to be flung about like a side of beef, slaughtered and devoured by the media while she was still young, tender, and exploitable. Her ambition was clearly to mature as an actress and develop assets far beyond the fleeting and unreliable ones of sexual succulence.
"I've never starred in a jiggle show yet and I don't intend to," she remarked when the photographer suggested that she pose in a Snow Valley T-shirt sans bra. "The boobs stay under wraps."
But publicity stills were one of the requirements for success in any entertainment field, and she put up with them with uncomplaining stoicism.
"So you're to be my latest heart-throb, as they say in the gossip columns," she said to Werner with undisguised amusement.
"It was love at first slight," he retorted pleasantly.
"Tell me about yourself so that I'll be able to mysteriously evade questions about you."
"I'm my mother's son and my uncle's nephew."
She laughed. "That's hardly the kind of deep dark juicy secret the press will be after."
"Chuck Trevor can fill you in on the mundane details of my life. It's uncomfortable for me to talk about myself," he lied, "especially to someone as beautiful and accomplished as you are."
"I'm an actress. That's the beginning and end of my story, once it's been stripped clean of all this publicity garbage. Are you just a ski pro from beginning to end?"
He shook his head amid the blinding bursts of photo-flash bulbs that kept punctuating their banter as the cameras recorded them in the act of animated and supposedly passionate conversation on the slope.
"Beginning, maybe-but I hope not the end."
They moved on to the lodge and its picturesque surroundings after that, and posed for what seemed to him a truly interminable number of pictures-by the fireplace, selecting skis, donning jackets and caps ... there was no opportunity to approach Joanna on an intimate basis; besides, Werner had caught her spirit of cooperation with the picture-taking. Sex was a pleasure activity, and he realized that she was working, not playing, and didn't like to mix the two.
The day passed rapidly in spite of the occasional boredom between groups of shots. Joanna warmed to him a bit, he thought. When they finally parted, she kissed him-on the forehead-and wished him well.
It was the first time in Werner's life that he wasn't really disappointed to have to say good-bye without chalking up another successful seduction. She had made him feel far more important than a mere gigolo.
After she left with the other film people, he had plenty of time all to himself in which to think about the peculiar experience. She was just another woman, after all-wasn't she? In his mind Werner had them all cataloged-good and bad, shy and wanton, and he could remember something about each of them-a walk, a facial expression, a favorite sexual quirk. They had all promised to come back to Snow Valley to resume their relationship with him as soon as possible, and a few of them had: the rest probably never would, and on the whole it would be no tragedy.
He had come to realize that, just as he had exploited a succession of sexually vulnerable women, so he was really no more than a passing adventure in their lives. If his conquests remembered him at all, he supposed it could well be in a way much less flattering than he might like to think. Trysts at a ski resort, weekends of illicit if intense, passion, were weak foundations upon which to build lasting relationships. Where were the snows of last season?
It was fortunate for Werner that Maggie didn't choose to scrutinize her skiing business with the same ruthless professionalism and lack of sentimentality that she brought to virtually every other aspect of her resort's operation. Had she done so, she might have noticed that Werner was becoming ever so slightly passe and behind the times in skiing styles and techniques and equipment, cut off from the European mainstream of the sport for years as he had been. He had lost the fierce interest in the sport, the determination to stay on top of it at all times, that had characterized his days as a competitor. That store of energy was now sidetracked into the resort's sex hunt. But Maggie wasn't entirely devoid of sentimentality, especially where handsome former lovers were concerned, and by now skiing at Snow Valley seemed impossible without Werner's supervision. As far as she was concerned, things could stay that way indefinitely. Werner had a meal ticket with her as long as she lived.
Chuck Trevor continued to campaign tirelessly to get the resort good publicity, and in due time he presented Werner with a huge scrapbook containing all the photos and column mentions resulting from his month or so as the rumored latest lover of Joanna Travers. She was in Europe making another picture, where few people had ever heard of Werner, and it was only a matter of time before the press concentrated on fresh rumors about her romantic entanglements. Werner was beginning to wonder, a little philosophically, if it wasn't possible to get a reputation as a great lover without ever actually screwing anyone. Maybe he'd been wasting his time and sexual energy all along.
Women of all ages and degrees of desirability and accessibility continued to check in and out of the resort, many of them joining the roster of the ski instructor's conquests without knowing or caring exactly where they stood on that list. It was still a decided social coup to be able to admit to having been laid by him. After all, hadn't he been the lover of numerous celebrities, including, most recently, the rapidly rising Joanna Travers-who was known to be unusually selective in such personal matters?
Gradually, Werner would regain his usual drive and pour his energy into his professional activities as unstintingly as he poured it into his private life. In the meanwhile, it wasn't all that bad, living the resort life three hundred and sixty-five days a year. A guy could do a lot worse for himself, Werner reminded himself whenever he began to chafe against his light harness. And his libido was satisfied ... that was a very important consideration, if not the most important one.
He would keep reaching for the stars ... and before his career was over he would gain entry into as many of them as possible.
He was lost to the world in the arms of a twenty-two-year-old coed who had left her furious boyfriend behind down at the main building the moment Werner had put the make on her, when the bedside phone rang. He was in no position to answer it. An hour later, when he lay exhausted and half asleep with the smilingly satisfied girl beside him, it rang again. This time he snatched up the receiver before the second ring.
"This is the overseas operator speaking ... Mr. Werner Kranz?"
"Speaking," Werner replied in a voice still thick from a prolonged session of cunnilingus.
"I have a call for you ... one moment, please ... " There was a pause, then a click, and a familiar voice chimed in his ear:
"Hullo, Werner. Did I wake you up?"
He couldn't believe it was really her. "Joanna?"
"That's not a bad guess-considering how many women must have your number," she laughed.
"How'd you get it?" he blurted out. "Since we, ah, never quite got to the phone-number-exchanging stage."
"A little bird told me-of the Flying Feathered Fuck variety. Seriously, though, I simply let
Information do all the work. I tried before but there was no answer."
If he'd known it was her, he'd have interrupted the fuck in mid-stroke to grab the phone. "I wasn't in," he said, feeling guilty. It was a lie twice over, after all-he'd not only been in the lodge, he'd been in ...
"Who is it?" the sleepy college slut muttered, stirring out of sleep next to him, her sensational boobs rubbing against his back as he sat up, turned away from her, to talk into the phone.
"Oh? Out catching birds, I see," Joanna teased him. "Well, I won't hold you up, then ... I simply wanted to call to say hello ... and make sure that we're still friends."
Werner couldn't keep his surprise out of his voice: "I didn't know we were friends in the first place. But I still feel the same about you. Horny." He could risk being direct with her now that there seemed to be nothing to gain or lose.
Joanna laughed again. "I'm sure you've got the remedy for that right there beside you. I want us to be friends. I have an ulterior motive. I want you to do a favor for me. Make a reservation for me for Christmas. Your resort is so beautiful that I've decided to spend at least part of my vacation there. I'll need the rest after all this dashing around Europe and reciting idiotic lines for the cameras."
His heartbeat tripled. "I'll be happy to take care of it. Will you be-traveling alone?"
"Unfortunately," she said mockingly. She gave him the dates of her planned visit. "First-class accommodations, please."
"You could save yourself some money-and enjoy much more privacy-by being my guest up here at the lodge. I'd be happy to have you."
"I'm sure you would ... but it would be a disappointment. Our relations would have to be strictly platonic. 'Just friends.'"
"Oh, that's understood. There's a second bedroom upstairs."
"Does it ever get slept in?" Joanna asked cynically.
"Used, yes-slept in, rarely."
"You really are an incorrigible Don Juan. I'm half tempted to take you up on your offer, though. You're one of the things that's attracting me back to Snow Valley. I'm fascinated by a man who quite literally can't take 'no' for an answer."
"Well, the invitation stands. Think about it. I'll be looking forward to your visit-to seeing you."
"So will I. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
He waited for her to hang up first before reluctantly replacing the receiver. The girl beside him stirred again, the sheet sliding down over her hip to expose more of her luscious young body.
"Who was that?" she asked again.
"Never mind," he replied, his thoughts still on Joanna.
"Some woman, I bet."
"She sure is," he mused, smiling secretively to himself.
The girl sat up, fully awake now. "Fuck me!" she demanded.
It was extraordinary how just having spoken to Joanna and conjured up her tantalizing image in his mind spurred his lust. "All right." He turned, and threw himself upon her. Before she knew what had hit her his ever-dependable cock had entered her and was driving her steadily toward orgasm again.
After all, Werner thought with a lewd grin, he was going to need all the practice he could get in the month that remained before Christmas-before Joanna. This time, he vowed, she wasn't going to get away. They'd become friends, all right ... and lovers.
His sperm blasted into the girl underneath him at the mere thought. It promised to be an interesting and enjoyable winter.
