Victoria Gillette patted a hand over her shag-cut ebony hair and unfastened the top two mother-of-pearl buttons of her white silk blouse, pulling the collar open wide to reveal a provocative expanse of tit cleavage and a hint of black lace at the top of her overflowing, size forty-D bra cups. Her hands smoothed down her short skirt and she turned her large, brown doe-eyes up to meet the approving gaze of her sister, Dolly, and said, "Do you have the gun?"
Dolly gave her purse an affirmative pat and nodded. She looked very much like a blonde-haired version of her sister. They were both tall, big-titted, and had legs that could stop-or start-a parade. Dolly's legs-unlike Victoria's, which were bare-were sheathed in shiny golden stockings which precisely matched the shade of her slinky lame mini. "I don't think we'll have to use it, though," she said in a whisper. "Not if we play it right. Did you remember the blackjack?"
Victoria shook her own handbag. "Yeah, I've got it right in here."
The elevator door slid open silently, the signal light indicating the sixth floor. The two girls stepped out into the plushly carpeted hallway, turned right, surveying the numbers on the solid-walnut doors: 601, 603, 605. They stopped at 607.
Dolly pressed the buzzer and wrinkled her pert nose conspiratorially at her sister. Victoria took a deep breath to inflate the already bursting proportions of her tits.
The door was answered by a curly-haired, stylishly dressed thirty-year-old man: Howard Sandin. He regarded the two girls curiously. "Can I help you?"
Victoria twitched her shoulders slightly, a practiced movement which had the effect of undulating the deep line of her delectable cleavage.
The gesture wasn't wasted on Sandin, whose eyes lit up with interest.
"Yes, we do need some help," Dolly spoke. "We just want to use your telephone." Her voice was a mixture of coyness and sensuality.
"Sure," Sandin responded without hesitation. "Come on in." He glanced at his watch. "Kind of late, isn't it? You realize it's after eleven?"
They wiggled past him into his modernly furnished bachelor apartment. "We're night people," Dolly replied.
"We just moved into a room on the fifth floor last week," Victoria explained. "Our phone hasn't been hooked up yet."
Sandin squinted. "I thought all these pads had house phones. Mine was here when I moved in." "Our apartment was just remodeled," Dolly blurted. "And they took out the old one and haven't put in the one we ordered. You know how long they take to get around to stuff like that."
"Well, they should have left the old one in for you, at least," he said in a quizzical tone. "Considering what they charge for these joints. Look, why don't you sit down," he said, motioning toward the couch, "I'll call the manager myself and raise hell for you. No need to let them take advantage of you like this. What's your room number?"
Dolly cut him off. "We're really in a hurry." She was fingering the bronze clasp on her purse nervously. "Can't you just call a garage for us? We need to have a flat changed on our car."
He shook his head skeptically. "You mean you're going to call a garage just to change a flat?"
Dolly threw herself down on his couch, spreading her willowy, gorgeous legs, her dress riding up to her hips. He watched the tip of her tongue creep out to moisten her crimson lips. "Well, we don't know how to change it ourselves," she told him.
The way she put the emphasis on the sentence showed their real expectations; he-snorted a laugh. "Hey, I don't have time to change your flat. I've got a date in an hour." He strolled to the phone across the room and lifted the receiver.
"The car's only a half-mile away," Dolly said quickly, "and we've got to return it to my brother soon. It's his car, you see, and we really weren't supposed to be driving it."
"Sorry," Sandin told her. Into the phone, he said, "Six-o-seven. Give me an outside line."
Victoria's high heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she went up to Sandin, laying a restraining hand on his arm. "Maybe we could pay you for your help," she drawled.
He spun around to look from her to Dolly, who was settled back against the couch with her legs splayed in an unladylike fashion.
Dolly smiled at him sultrily and cupped the gold-encased mounds of her tits in her hands as an offering. He blinked at her in amazement. "Okay, girls, you win," he said, hanging up the phone. He gaped at Dolly.
"We don't have much money," Victoria purred, "but we'd be glad to show you our gratitude in other ways."
He snapped out of the trance Dolly was pulling him into and peered at Victoria, or rather, at her lushly exposed cleavage. "How soon do I have to change the tire?"
"Soon," Victoria grinned at him, "But we'll pay in advance, if that's what's worrying you."
Dolly started to gyrate her tightly pantied ass against the couch seat. "We really should hurry," she urged.
Sandin looked from one to the other of them. "Do you plan to, uh, perform this service as a team?" he ventured.
Victoria laughed, a watery, enticing sound. "Well, I was hoping maybe I could take a rain check," she told him. "Unless it's really necessary .. .I just live downstairs, you know."
"One at a time's quite all right with me," he assured her. He shook his head with a laugh. "I must be dreaming. All you want me to do is change your flat tire? How did you happen to pick me?"
Dolly was already on her feet, reaching for the zipper of her dress. She unzipped her dress with a graceful movement and let the garment slide down over her voluptuous body. Her eyes danced with mischief as Sandin leered at the unveiled portions of her flesh. "Oh, I saw you in the lobby the other day and I thought you were my type," she giggled, unhooking her pink lace bra with ease. She peeled the cups away from the generous mounds of her tits, her nipples pointing out at him like cherries. "I heard you tell the desk clerk your room number. . ." She unfastened her garter, then paused. "Would you rather I leave my stockings on? I know some guys like it better that way."
"I like it any way," he told her, still unable to believe it was happening.
"Maybe it would be better if you didn't fuck her," Victoria put in. "It would be faster if she just sucked you off."
Sandin eyed her as if she were an apparition. "Are you going to watch?"
Victoria smiled. "Sure. It's okay; we're sisters. Voyeurs, too."
Dolly was busy stripping off her panties, despite her sister's suggestion that fucking would take too much time. Sandin didn't mind at all; her lush body was giving him a hard-on. When she'd kicked off her panties, she flung herself back down on the couch, her legs spread to show him the bright-pink gash in the center. Her cunt glistened invitingly.
"Would you .. . like to go into my bedroom?" he asked her.
Dolly squirmed around on the couch, grinding her plump asscheeks into the seat, her tits jiggling. "I kind of like your couch, Mr. Sandin. I'm sort of a leather-freak."
He stared at the moist split of her cunt, which seemed to wink at him when she twisted her body around. "It's not really leather," he said. "I think it's some kind of vinyl." He raised his eyes reluctantly. "And you can call me Howard."
"My name is Betty," Dolly improvised.
"And I'm Sally," Victoria put in. "Let's get on with it."
Sandin gave Victoria an irritated glance. He didn't enjoy her self-appointed authority, but he was afraid if he complained, the blonde on the couch might not be so accommodating. "Okay," he said, trying to sound cheerful. He started toward the couch.
Dolly was slouched back against the couch, her fingers playing with her nipples, drawing them into shriveled pink knots. He'd been seduced by women before, but this took the cake. Dolly turned her head to him as he approached her, her eyes half-closed. He watched her hand trail over her flesh to rest at the blonde hair of her cunt.
"If you want me to suck you off," she said, "is it all right if I fingerfuck myself? I just get so excited when I have a big prick in my mouth."
He laughed hoarsely and pinched himself "Jesus Christ. Nothing but a flat tire? You're sure? You don't expect any money from me or anything?"
"Just change the tire," Victoria replied.
Sandin's eyes were fixed on Dolly's rotating crotch. He didn't press the matter or acknowledge Victoria's answer. The heat in his groin said it was too late for debating the subject. He took a step closer to Dolly, unbuckling his belt as he walked.
Dolly had one of her fingers shoved all the way up her cunt and she was patting her pussylips around her clit with her other hand. She couldn't help but notice the conspicuous lump swelling in Sandin's crotch. When he was within range, she rolled over and reached out to him.
He let her pull down the zipper and his trousers dropped to the floor. He wrenched his shorts down to his knees. "Just a blowjob will be fine," he assured her, moving forward so that his prick was aimed directly at her sensuous pink lips.
She took hold of his cock with one hand, using her other one to resume her shameless finger-fucking. Her legs were spread wide and he could see her slick cuntal juices coating her fingertips,
He was vaguely aware of Victoria's shadow as she stepped behind him, seating herself demurely on the edge of the armchair next to the couch. He glanced at her and she gave him a smile, bending down to retrieve Dolly's purse from the floor. "I just wanted to get a better view," she said, staring intently into Dolly's churning wet pussy.
Dolly craned her neck to kiss and lick at the loose skin of Sandin's sac. His balls drew up tight at her touch, the bluish veins of his prick pulsating against her cool fingers.
She moved her head back to kiss the head of his prick. He watched her tongue dart out to flick across the thin-lipped cockslit, then her lips closed over the fleshy knob like wet velvet.
A shudder ran up his spine as the erotic thrill of her sucking mouth worked magic on his cock. He stared down at her bobbing blonde head, seeing his prick slide noisily in and out of her warm, working mouth. He wanted to grab for her tits, but he satisfied himself with twining his fingers into her silky hair. Forcing her head closer to his crotch, he started to pump his hips, screwing his cock into the luxurious wet cavern of her mouth with lust.
Accompanying the sound of her sucking mouth was the barely audible wet squishing noise of her fingers at her cunt. His nostrils flared at the savory scent of her pussy. From the corner of his eye, he could see Victoria, and he half-expected her to be fingerfucking herself, too.
She wasn't. She was sitting there calmly, as cool and collected as could be. Sandin regretted having accepted her "rain check"; he'd been a fool not to insist both of them take him on. There was something in the way Victoria was watching them that gave him the creeps.
He turned his attention back to Dolly, who was still sucking his cock with gusto. He let go of her hair and reached down for one of her tits. He grabbed a meaty handful and gave her mound a squeeze.
"You've got great tits, baby," he said between clenched teeth, trying to draw his cock out of her mouth a little bit. She was really determined in her cocksucking, a bit too determined, in fact. He wished she'd go a little easier. He wanted to prolong the sensations she was producing.
Feeling for both dangling tits, he rolled them against her chest, pressing them together, weighing them in his palms, all the while watching in awe as the pliant globes changed their shape as he fondled them.
Dolly was like a frenzied lust-crazed animal, one hand at her sizzling, racking cunt, rubbing it, kneading the pussylips, plunging her fingers into her deep cuntmouth, her soft flaxen pussyhairs now damp with her oily sap. Her tits were bloated and tingling beneath Sandin's nimble fingers, the nipples hard and throbbing in his pinching, teasing caress; her mouth stretched around his jabbing cock, letting him fuck deep into her throat, her tongue swirling against the thick, pistoning meat, as she sucked vigorously to draw up his boiling cum.
Victoria was impatient and jittery. "Sure takes you a long time to come," she commented to Sandin.
He looked over at her. He'd forgotten she was even in the room. He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but instead he simply said, "I'm a slow cummer. But when I let loose, don't worry, you'll know it!"
Dolly kept sucking his cock rhythmically, paying no attention to the exchange of words. His prick was dripping with her warm saliva, his nerve ends ready to explode.
"She sure knows how to suck!" he grunted. "She's got a mouth like melted butter! Must be as deep as her fucking cunt!" He spat out the last few words viciously, hoping that even if the physical act didn't affect Victoria, vulgar language would.
He was using Dolly's ample tits to balance himself and to aid in the thrusts of his cock. He didn't really mind having a voyeur present-especially since the voyeur was both another delectable specimen of young pussy and his current victim's sister. There was an added kick to the thought of that, regardless how haughty Victoria might act. In a way, her aloofness inspired him. She'd be all the more fun to fuck when the time came. And he'd make sure he fucked her-they'd made the bargain, and he was no gentleman when it came to collecting debts.
Victoria's eyes had turned from her sister's gleaming cunt to the sizable hunk of man-flesh gliding in and out of Dolly's pink mouth. Sandin was sure he saw a glint of lust in her dark eyes as Victoria gazed at his prize cockmeat. He wondered if she were thinking about her turn.
"Like what you see?" he rasped at her.
Her eyes flitted to his face with mild disgust. "Not you, darling. I like to watch Dolly."
He stiffened, his prick motionless in Dolly's mouth. "You a lesbian or something?"
She laughed. "Sort of. Does that turn you on?"
He knew she wanted him to say no, so he said, "Fuck, yes!" His balls were aching to unload but he held off. "Why don't you have some fun yourself then?"
Victoria's big eyes grew even larger. "What?"
"Why don't you get down there and help your poor sister out? You can suck her pussy while she eats my cock."
Victoria winced. "Look, there's no time.
"Or I might change my mind about fixing that flat," he added. The way his cock was throbbing, even if Dolly stopped sucking he was liable to let it go in her face.
Victoria hesitated, but only for a second. Then she was down on her knees between Dolly's legs. She pushed her sister's hand away from the inflamed wet twat and dipped her face close to the quivering cuntflesh. Sandin watched with satisfaction as her tongue brushed across Dolly's clit, then prodded into the slick pink tissues.
Dolly emitted a muffled groan and ceased sucking his cock for an instant, her eyes popping open in surprise. She peered down at the dark head wedged between her outstretched legs and started to back away from the prick in her mouth.
Sandin grabbed her back to his crotch, and at once her lively tongue came to life again, swerving along the underside of his prick. The fatty head of his cock skittered against the roof of her mouth, plunging to the contracting muscles at the entrance to her throat, pulled back till the thick cockhead was almost outside her lips, then shoved it in again as she gobbled him up.
He felt his climax seething in his balls, demanding release.
"Jesus!" he groaned, slamming his prick even farther into her throat. His knees locked, his asscheeks tightened as he held her head, his cock crammed into her mouth to the hilt. He let her have it with a load of his thick jism.
She half-choked on it, pulling back, sucking for more.
He spurted again.
She drank his cum greedily, slurping at the glistening pink skin of the prick, milking it for more cream as though his cum were sweet honey.
'He shot another load of stringy cum into her voracious throat.
She swallowed, sliding away, her tongue worming its way down his pole as she moved back. As she lapped the saliva-coated prickhead, he gave one last bolt of cum to her, seeing it disappear into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.
Sandin stepped away from her, his cock slipping out of her raw, ravaged mouth. He pulled his underpants up over his half-hard cock, allowing Victoria room to continue her licking.
Dolly lay back against the couch, her legs flying up to scissor her sister's shoulders. She was panting, her head tossing from side to side on the cushion as the tormenting pleasure in her cunt brought her closer and closer to orgasm.
Victoria seemed oblivious to Sandin's stare as she slobbered at the juicing trough of Dolly's cunt. Sandin had suspected she might be putting him on when she'd told him she was a lesbian, but now he had no doubts. An incestual lesbian, at that. He watched her performance with slight contempt. From where he was standing, her rounded, plushy asscheeks were wriggling at him, her panties so brief they were little more than a thin ribbon masking the crack of her ass. On one cheek was a small, heart-shaped tattoo. He couldn't resist goosing her.
She jumped back with a shriek. "Hey! What're you doing?" she demanded with indignation.
"If you're a lesbian, how are you going to pay up on the rain check?" he asked.
Dolly moaned and kicked her legs, pushing her cunt up to Victoria's juice-wet face. "Don't. . . stop!" she husked.
"I'll give you a blowjob, too," Victoria snapped. "Or you can even fuck me if you want. I never promised to like it."
It gave him a good feeling to be towering above her, with her down on her knees in front of him. Dolly was thrashing wildly on the couch, rubbing her aching cunt with her own hands.
"I can't stand it," she was groaning. "I've got to come."
Victoria made a move to bury her face back in her sister's steamy crotch, but Sandin stopped her.
"I'll take care of that," he said, pulling her out of the way.
She looked at him reproachfully, but crawled back to let him take her place as he knelt down to inspect Dolly's pussy. "I owe it to her," he said over his shoulder to Victoria. "She's got one of the prettiest little cunts 1 ever did see." He sank two fingers into the gaping dark hole and started pumping them. "Almost sorry I didn't fuck her. I'm tempted to climb on her right now."
"Please, we don't have time!" Victoria begged.
"Don't worry," he said. "I've got to save some cock for my date tonight."
Dolly started to come with a squeal.
He felt her cunt grab at his fingers, squeeze them, suck at them,
"Jesus, she's got muscles in there that could make a prick go crazy!" he said. "Get it, baby! Get it!"
Dolly bounced on the seat, her flailing legs split wide, her cunt sucking his fingers.
Victoria was nervously lighting a cigarette, her cheeks still shiny with Dolly's sap.
"I'll have to take a rain check myself," Sandin said as Dolly's climax waned. "Looks like both ends are equally talented."
Dolly heaved a sigh. She was covered with sweat, her voluptuous body shining as though it had been polished with oil. She looked at Sandin with a satisfied smile. "Thank you," she breathed.
He pulled out his cunt-wet fingers. "My pleasure."
"Goddamn it, Betty, can we go now?" Victoria said.
Dolly returned her sister's angry stare, swinging her legs together and sitting up. "I have to use the bathroom, if you don't mind, Sally."
Sandin pointed with his thumb. "It's that way," he informed her.
Dolly gathered up her clothes and went toward the bathroom. He watched her billowing ass wiggle out of the room- Her assflesh was textured with the same imitation-leather grain as his couch.
"That was a pretty quick blowjob, actually," he said to Victoria. "Don't worry, I'll have your flat fixed in no time."
Victoria came on sweet. "Oh, that's so good of you, Howard. And I will let you come down and collect on our bargain any time. Maybe Betty will even join us, if you want."
"I want," he agreed. "I don't believe you told me your room number."
She hesitated, then said, "Five-thirteen."
Dolly emerged, fully dressed. "I'm ready," she announced.
"Let's hurry," Victoria said, taking Sandin's hand. "My brother works a night shift and I've got to have his car back by midnight."
"Okay, let's go," he said.
He got his coat and they left. In the elevator, he pressed the button for the ground floor.
"If you ever do get your own car," he said, "they've got a pretty good deal here." The elevator stopped and the three of them stepped out and headed down a hall to a locked steel door. Sandin produced a key and slid it into the lock. "This is the parking area," he said. "You can't get in if you don't have a key."
He opened the metal door to allow them to pass into the expansive concrete garage. "They've even got a guard down at the exit gate to make sure no strangers come in that way. Pretty classy, eh?" Sandin led the way to a peacock-blue Monte Carlo. "Security on this place is great. I never worry about having my car stolen." He opened the door for the women.
"I'll get in back," Victoria offered quickly, climbing in.
Sandin climbed into the driver's seat and Dolly curled her long legs up beside him. He stuck his key in the ignition. "Where to?"
Victoria came down on the back of his head with the blackjack.
Dolly giggled. "To the stars," she said to his slumped, unconscious body.
"Goddamn it, would you hurry up!" Victoria hissed.
Dolly got out of the car and went around to Sandin's door. She glanced around the lot. The garage seemed devoid of people. She lugged Sandin's body out of his seat, down onto the concrete.
"You really hit him, Vicki," Dolly said. "He'll be out for hours. I hope he doesn't have a concussion." She crawled into the driver's seat, fastened the seatbelt and turned on the ignition. "I kind of thought he was nice."
Victoria remained in the back seat. "Let's just get the fuck out of here, Dolly. I felt like killing you upstairs. That fingerfucking scene was too-much-it wasted a lot of time, too. How could you get horny when you knew we had to work fast?"
"I'm sorry, Vicki. I can get horny any time, you know that. But we made it in plenty of time. Now we have to pick up the bait."
"I just hope we won't have any trouble with this guard," Victoria remarked. "It's so late, he probably won't bather to even look at the car."
"It's so late I wish we could just go home and go to bed," Dolly added. "That Sandin guy is sure nutty. Planning to go out on a date at midnight!"
CHAPTER TWO
Pamela Roster sat nude on her bed, stroking a brush vigorously through her swirling mane of chestnut hair. The healthy pink glow of her skin seemed to blend naturally into the pastel tones of her unmistakably feminine bedroom.
She was slender, with budding adolescent tits, the nipples small and high-riding, just a shade darker than the pink of her flesh. Perched on the edge of the bed with her legs curled beneath her, knees together, just the upper wisps of her fluffy brown pussyhairs were visible.
Her telephone rang. Setting her brush beside the phone, which was right next to her on the night table, she picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she said, then after a second, said, "Oh, hi, Ginny! I was just getting ready for my date with your cousin ... Of course, my parents don't know about him yet! Do you think we'd still be meeting at midnight if they knew? . . . Oh, they're sleeping. They always go to bed early on Saturday night.. . No, I don't think they'd like Howard. They'd think he was too old for me ... No! I told him I was eighteen! If he knew I was only sixteen, he'd probably stop seeing me."
She went over to the bed, pulling the phone over so she could lie back and continue talking. With her legs drawn up, she could catch a glimpse of her furry pussymound in the mirror. She parted her thighs enough to expose the dewy pink lips of her cunt, wondering what Ginny would think if she could see her now ... or what Howard would think. The thought made her smile.
"I have to wait until I'm sure Howard's in love with me till I tell him my real age," she went on. "Yeah, I have to sneak out now. He just parks in front of the house at midnight. We've never been caught yet. My parents sleep so late Sunday mornings, they never even notice I'm out all night. Me and Howard have been doing this for three months now, you know, ever since you introduced us. I've never had a boy friend that long before. He's so handsome . . . and money, wow! We always go to his apartment and he gives me champagne."
Pamela giggled softly. "Of course I ball him!" she said, trailing her fingers across her lean abdomen and down to her pussyhair as she spoke. "We do a lot more than that, too! .. . No, he doesn't mind that I have to sneak out of the house. He said just so long as I was eighteen he didn't care what my parents thought. . . Yeah, sometimes I feel stupid about it. I have to hang up, Ginny. I'm not even dressed yet! . . . Okay, goodbye. I'll tell you all about if you call me back tomorrow night. Bye."
She replaced the receiver, retrieving her brush to give her hair a few last strokes. Then she stood and went to the mirror to appraise herself more fully than she'd been able to from her supine position on the bed.
She cupped her small tits in her hands, wishing they were larger, squeezing her nipples, watching them respond by blossoming into tingling buds. Her tits felt good, small as they were. They were still growing, too, but Howard never complained about their size, so she guessed it didn't matter.
Pushing out her pelvis, she ran a hand over her pussy. Howard had told her she'd had one of the tightest pussies he'd ever fucked. She'd thought he was disappointed until he explained to her that he'd meant it as a compliment. She had to admit, his cock sure did fill her pussy up.
She went to her dresser, opening the top drawer which contained her panties. Shuffling through, she picked out a pair she hadn't worn in years and didn't even know she still owned, a little-girlish, daisy-print pair. She tried them on. They seemed awfully tight. She went to the mirror. They did look sexy, though. Howard would probably think they were cute, she decided. She turned around to examine the effect from behind. They were so snug they'd slid up into the crack of her ass, both plump asscheeks fully denuded. Yes, Howard would definitely like them.
Deciding against wearing a bra, she went to her closet to choose a dress, something to really win Howard's attention. She pulled out a bright-orange sheath, slipping it over her head and wriggling it down over her lithe young body. The flimsy material felt tickly and stimulating sliding over her nipples.
Returning to the mirror, she studied her figure. The dress was simple, but it was by far the shortest one she owned. Her parents would have a fit if they saw her leaving the house in it. It was tight enough to display her stiffened, excited nipples, which pushed against the clinging, fabric like, silk-covered buttons. She did think her legs, sleek and creamy-white against the orange cloth, were her best attraction. She turned around to view her tightly hugged ass, the hem of the dress just reaching below the roundness of her firm, saucy asscheeks.
Bending over, she almost gasped. The hem rode up and, with her little-girl panties stuck in her asscrack, it appeared as if her ass were completely bare. She was sure Howard would go for that. She made a mental note to show off her charms to him. . . maybe she'd walk across his living room, then nonchalantly bend over to pick up a magazine or something. She could almost picture the look that would cross his face when he saw her.
She put on her long, blue coat, not because it was particularly cold outside, but so that her parents wouldn't throw a fit if they saw her come in from "church" the following morning.
Stuffing her good shoes and a pair of pantyhose into her purse, she flipped off the light in her room, quietly opened the door and went barefoot into the darkened hallway. She closed the door behind herself and scurried soundlessly down the hall to the stairway.
She froze at the top of the stairs. There was a light across the landing downstairs which she knew was from her parents' bedroom . . . she'd never anticipated them being still awake. Her parents were never up at that hour. She would have to sneak past; there was no other way out of the house, and Howard would be waiting for her.
She tiptoed down a few steps, thankful that the stairway was carpeted. She went a few more steps and stopped again. She could hear voices coming from the bedroom-her parents' voices-but she couldn't make out what they were saying. What if one of them suddenly came out and spotted her? What excuse could she possibly offer for having on her coat and clutching her purse as she headed toward the front door? She prayed they wouldn't leave their room as she moved down two more steps, then another two . . .
Her mother's voice rang out quite distinctly: "Oh, Chuck, I'll never get tired of your huge prick! I need to be fucked so bad, honey!"
And her father's voice answered, "Take off your panties, Julia, and just lay back and spread those pretty legs wide. I want to eat your pussy first!"
Pamela repressed a gasp of shock. Such language, coming from her own parents. She could hardly believe her ears. And the thought of what they must be doing . . . She could feel the blood rushing to her temples and she realized she must be blushing. She hardly dared breathe. She was only three steps from the landing, but it may as well have been a mile. Her parents' door was open and there was no way she could get past without them noticing her. They must have figured she'd be asleep. There was a bathroom upstairs, so there was really no reason to worry about her coming down.
Her mother's voice sounded again: "Oh, Christ, Chuck! Oh, hell, lick my pussy! That feels sooo goood! Stick your tongue in it now! Oh, Oh! Oh! Suck my clit, Chuck! Suck on my aching clit! Oh, Christ!"
Pamela could feel a throbbing in her own little clit, just listening to what her mother was saying. She'd never seen-or heard-her parents having sex before. She had at times wondered what it might be like to fuck her father, but she'd never really thought about it very seriously. It was just something to giggle about with her girl friends when they were comparing notes on fantasies and experiences.
"Oh, Chuck, I'm going to come! I'm going to come right in your mouth! Oh, God, Chuck! Lick it! Lick my pussy! Eat it! Oh, Jesus Christ!"
Pamela stepped down to the last step on the landing while her mother was making so much noise, groaning and moaning as if she were dying, but Pamela knew she was dying with pleasure. She was right beside their open door now.
"Oh, Chuck! I'm coming! I'm coming! Oh my cunt! My cunt!"
Her mother's squeals seemed to be piercing right to the core of Pamela's own heated pussy. She was sure her cuntlips were already getting wet with her salty brine. She could hardly believe that her father was eating her mother out! Howard had never done that for her, and she wondered if he would if she asked him to. It certainly sounded like it must be fantastic.
Her father's voice broke into her thoughts: "Now I'm going to fuck you, Julia!"
"Mmmm," her mother growled in a sultry, impassioned tone. "Oh, Chuck, fuck me raw!"
Pamela wished she could watch them fuck. She was getting so hot and bothered just listening to them she could barely stand still. She could envision them in her mind. She knew that the foot of the bed directly faced the door, which meant that if her father was going to be on top, he would be facing away from the door, and if she waited to run past until she heard him having his climax neither of her parents would see or hear her . . . she hoped.
"Oh, Chuck, that's so good! When you suck my tit like that it just drives me crazy! Oh, God! Suck on the other one now, Chuck! Make my other nipple stand up that way too!"
She knew her mother had large breasts, and she wished she could see her father sucking on them. Howard liked to suck on her little tits. She wondered if her father was as good a lover as Howard.
But as soon as she pictured herself in her mother's place on the bed, her father said, "Now open your legs wide, Julia. I'm going to shove my cock in your twat!"
Pamela flushed with guilt such as she'd never before experienced, a titillating guilt which increased her sexual excitement considerably. She wanted to see her father fucking her mother. Almost as bad, she wanted to start rubbing her own aching, wet pussy while she watched them. But she didn't dare move yet from her hiding place right outside their door.
"Oh, Chuck, that feels so wonderful! What a cock you've got! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!"
The bed springs sang in a slow, steady rhythm.
Pamela could practically feel her father's prick inside her own cunt, pumping deep inside the inflamed churning tissues of her burning hole. Her mother kept saying how big his cock was. Pam wondered how big it was. She could hear their fast, labored breathing and she wanted so badly to peek in at them, but she didn't dare. She would have to listen for her father's climax. She hoped she'd be able to tell when he was coming.
"Oh, Jesus, Chuck! I'm going to come again! You're going to make my pussy come again! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me hard, Chuck! Harder, faster! Fuck meee!"
Should she hurry past while her mother was creaming? Her mother certainly made enough racket to afford the distraction she needed.
"I'm coming! Oooh! Chuck! I'm coming!"
Pamela stayed where she was. It would have been such a perfect time to make a run for it, but . . . She suddenly felt guilty. She realized she wanted to eavesdrop longer; she wanted to hear her father have a climax.
How could she be so perverse? Her own father. She could never tell Ginny about this. She wouldn't even tell Howard. She wondered if he was out there yet, waiting for her. Would he wonder why she was so turned on so soon? She'd never be able to hold it back from him. Most likely, she'd rape him before they even got back to his apartment.
She heard the bed start to rock again. Her cunt was throbbing madly. She'd never wanted to masturbate so bad in her life. Her clit felt like it was on fire. She was definitely wet now; the warmth of her pussy sap was all over the outside of her cunt and in the hot hollows of her groin. Her pubes felt sticky. Her panties must be drenched. She could even smell herself. If only she could just take a look inside the door .
"Oh, Chuck, I just love the way you move inside me! Your cock fits my cunt just perfect and it rubs so nice! Are you going to come soon?"
"I wish I could hold off forever! Just keep pumping like that! Your cunt is so hot, honey! I can feel your cuntjuice all over my balls!"
Pamela was positive now her father was as good a lover as Howard. In fact, she suspected he might be even better. Howard had never stayed in her so long without coming. Her father must be able to satisfy any woman alive. She began to feel resentful. She was actually jealous of her own mother.
"Oh, just keep shoving your pole in me! I love it!" her mother moaned.
Pam wanted to run into the room and beg her father to fuck her instead. Her pussy was throbbing, aching, begging to be stuffed with a big prick!
"I'm going to shoot, Julia!" he puffed.
Pamela got ready to make her move . . .
"Do it, Chuck! Let me have it! Let me have your hot cum!"
The bedsprings went suddenly silent and a grunt escaped her father's throat. She stepped gingerly out in front of the door and, in a fleeting second before moving on down the hall, she saw his naked, sweaty body from the back, the muscles of his strong, hairy legs and buttocks contracted in a spasm, her mother's long, fine, shapely legs split wide and lifted high around him, and she knew that, at that very moment there was a spray of jism splashing out of her father's cockhead into the squeezing depths of her mother's cunt.
She hurried into the kitchen, planning to go out the side door, which made less noise than the front. She stopped for a moment and reached a hand inside her coat, under the hem of her dress, feeling for her pussy. The contact of her fingers was like an electric thrill to her clit. She almost gave way to the urge to masturbate right then and there. The entire area of her crotch was saturated with her sap. She pulled her hand out and her fingers were moist.
She stared at her hand, the moonlight shining through the kitchen window, causing her fingertips to glisten. My own father did that to me, she thought in mortification. I wanted my own father to fuck me!
She wiped her hand off on the kitchen towel, then quietly let herself out the side door. It was a beautiful night cool and clear. She walked briskly through the yard, wanting to get away from her house fast. She ran down the gravel drive, the stones sharp against her bare feet. As soon as she reached the front of her house, she saw Howard's car waiting for her. She ran faster, opened the door and jumped into the front seat.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she blurted.
The car squealed away from the curb.
Pamela's breath caught in her throat. It wasn't Howard. A woman was driving.
"Don't try anything funny, Pamela," another woman's voice sounded from behind her.
She swiveled her head around to find herself staring into the barrel of a small revolver.
"Take this," the woman said, handing her a long, wide strip of black velvet. "Put it on. It's a blindfold."
"I don't get it," Pamela protested. "Where's .. . Howard? Is this some kind of joke?"
"If it is, the joke's on you," the driver, said out of the corner of her mouth.
"But- Pamela looked nervously from one woman to the other "-why?"
"Never argue with a gun, sweetie," the woman behind her husked. "Just put on the blindfold. Howard's taking his nap."
Chapter Three
Pamela tied the blindfold around the back of her head in dazed confusion. If this wasn't some kind of joke, what was happening? The women were driving Howard's car and the one behind her, the one with the gun, had addressed her by name, so perhaps they were friends of Howard's ...
But the gun. Why the gun and the blindfold? There was something terrible going on, but it didn't make any sense to Pamela.
"Don't attempt to scream or anything like that," the husky female voice rang out from the back seat. "This gun is loaded and I won't hesitate to use it."
Pamela thought she ought to be scared, but she was surprisingly calm-partly because it was so puzzling, partly because of the scene she'd just witnessed in her house. Her pussy was sopping wet. For an instant she even felt a bit embarrassed, her nostrils quivering at the scent of her own arousal, wondering if the two women could smell her, too. But that was ridiculous to worry about at this point.
Were they really kidnapping her? She couldn't imagine what for. Her father wasn't wealthy. They were just an ordinary, middle-class family. And why two women? And why Howard's car?
"Are you taking me to see Howard?" Pamela asked after they'd driven for about ten minutes in silence.
"Shut up," the woman behind her snapped.
Pamela's mind kept straying from her immediate situation to her recent experience at home. Try as she might to forget about it, a vivid image of her father's cock shoved up her mother's cunt kept stealing into her thoughts. Her clit ached to be rubbed, her pussy was still dripping. She kept her legs shut tight, vainly trying to quell the burning itch of desire that flared between her cuntlips.
It suddenly occurred to her that Howard might be somehow involved in her capture, but she was too horny to really care. She found herself hoping they would hurry and take her to him so he could fuck her, regardless of his reasons for abducting her.
I'm awful! She suddenly realized. My life might be at stake and all I can worry about is my dripping cunt!
After another few minutes, she felt the car pull to the side of the road and the ignition shut off.
"Leave your blindfold on," the same woman said. "Get out carefully and stand at the side of the car. Don't make any noise."
Pamela did as she was told. As soon as she stepped outside onto the cold asphalt, the cool night air rushed beneath her coat and dress, and she felt a chill on her pussy from its evaporating moisture. One of the woman took her by the arm and led her about ten feet away from the car. She heard another door open, not a house door.
"Take a step up," the woman commanded.
Pamela lifted her foot but banged her shin against a metal ledge. She stepped higher and her foot settled on some kind of platform. The woman gave her a push forward and guided her into some sort of room. The woman entered behind her and slammed the door shut.
"You can remove the blindfold now," she said.
Pamela stripped off the blindfold, realizing she'd been a fool not to cheat and tie it on so that she could have seen where they'd taken her. At the time she'd been too surprised to act prudently, and now it was too late. The room was small and dimly lit-it seemed like some kind of vault at first, and there was a mattress covering the floor.
She heard a motor rumble, then there was a jolt that toppled her onto the mattress. She realized she was in the back of a small, moving van. She looked up at her captor, who was leering down at her in a peculiar way. She realized, aghast, that the woman was staring directly at her crotch.
Pamela looked down at herself. Her coat was open, her dress up to her navel, her legs sprawled open, the wet crotch of her tight, little-girl panties lodged in the wedge between her pussylips.
She clamped her knees together and closed her coat, peering up at the strange woman. She didn't have the gun any more, and her smile was so pleasant, under any other circumstances Pamela would have felt quite comfortable. The woman was young, perhaps no more than a few years older than herself, Pamela reflected.
"My name is Victoria." the woman announced. She lowered herself to the mattress to sit beside Pamela. "I have to ask you a few personal questions."
Pamela couldn't help but notice how seductively the woman was dressed. She wondered if Victoria was one of Howard's girl friends. The thought depressed her. She really didn't feel she could compete with Victoria's beauty. She was one of the prettiest women she'd ever seen. And her tits. So big and bouncy. She wished she had tits like that. It didn't seem such a woman could really be so dangerous.
"I don't understand," Pamela squeaked, her voice submissive and imploring.
"What were you and Howard going to be doing tonight?" Victoria asked, ignoring her statement.
"Are . . . you a friend of Howard's?"
"No." Victoria's eyes slitted; in the dark, they seemed feline and threatening.
Pamela got the impression that Victoria was mentally undressing her, but that seemed incredible. She dismissed the thought, attributing it to her own highly aroused frame of mind. "Are you . . . with the police?" she blurted out suddenly, remembering at once that she was underage and her affair with Howard could get both of them into trouble.
Victoria laughed sharply. "Hardly, darling. But never mind who I am. That's not for you to know yet. If you don't mind, I'll ask the questions. You're to do as I tell you. And believe me, if you give me any trouble, I can get pretty rough. Now tell me what you planned to do with Howard."
Pamela felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach. She felt impelled to obey Victoria, but she wasn't sure to what extent the question was intended. "We . . . were going to have a date," she replied lamely.
"I know that. But what do you and Howard do on your dates? I know he takes you to his apartment." With this, a sly look passed over Victoria's aristocratic features. "Does he fuck you?"
The word was vulgar enough, but when Victoria said it, she seemed to add something more lewd in her emphasis. Pamela tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Well, yeah .. ."
"What else, Pamela?"
"You mean . . . what else does he do, sexually?"
"Precisely."
Pamela was shaking. She realized, with some dismay that she was staring directly at Victoria's cleavage. She tore her eyes away and tried to look at the mattress, but instead she focused on the woman's long, lovely, bare legs, which were stretched out right beside her own. Victoria's legs were much paler.
"We kiss, too," Pamela offered.
"Oh, shit," Victoria hissed. "Does he kiss your tits?"
"Uh . . . sometimes."
"Say it! Tell me what he kisses!"
Pamela was beginning to realize that much more was involved here than a simple interrogation of her relationship with Howard. The way Victoria's face lit up when she answered the questions was frightening. "He . . . kisses my breasts, too," she whispered.
"What else?"
"He kisses my mouth," Pamela hedged.
"Oh, fuck that!" Victoria lit a cigarette. "Do you smoke?"
Pamela shook her head.
"You're such a sweet little angel, aren't you, Pamela?" Victoria said sarcastically. "Does Howard ever kiss your cunt?"
Pamela inhaled sharply, remembering her mother's voice begging her father to eat her cunt. . . and how she had wished a man would do that to her. "No," she said in a small voice. "Howard never did that."
"Did you ever want him to?"
Pamela thought she was going to burst into tears. She wanted to lie, but some part of her mind would not permit it, and she heard herself answer, "Yes .. ."
"Say it."
She sniffled. "Sometimes I want him to kiss my... pussy."
Victoria grinned. "Now tell me what you kiss."
"I... kiss his mouth . .. and his chest... and his stomach ... and his ... cock."
"Do you kiss his balls, too?"
A tear of humiliation and fear ran down Pamela's cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Sometimes."
"Do you suck his cock?" Victoria asked.
"I... did once."
"Say it, goddamn you!"
"I sucked Howard's cock," she blurted quickly.
Victoria, with a satisfied grin, blew a stream of blue smoke past Pamela. "Tell me what it was like," she commanded, smirking.
Pamela's lower lip was quivering uncontrollably. She felt like a naughty girl being interrogated by the school principal, but no principal could be as insulting and audacious as Victoria. Pamela cringed inwardly at the idea of divulging the most intimate details of her sex life with Howard. She'd never told anyone about such things before, and even had the circumstances been more friendly, she would have still blushed at the things Victoria was asking her.
She blinked up at the other women, hoping for mercy. But Victoria's cold, haughty glare showed no sign of leniency. "I ... put it-his cock, I mean'-in my mouth," she whispered, so embarrassed she could not manage to speak in a normal tone, "and I sucked it in and out while it kept getting harder and he was breathing real hard and sort of moving his hips the way guys do when they fuck you and-
Victoria nodded impatiently. "Go on."
"And he had a ... climax ... in my mouth . . . and then I swallowed the ... stuff."
Victoria snorted. "You mean the jism."
"The jism," Pamela echoed quickly. "I swallowed the jism."
"Did you like it?"
Pamela felt herself blushing so hard she thought she must be glowing. "Yes."
Victoria's grin widened in a way that wasn't pretty. "Did he ever assfuck you?"
Pamela mentally recoiled at the very idea of such a thing. "No!"
"How old are you, Pamela?" Victoria ventured. "Sixteen?"
"I'm sixteen and a half," she said, wondering how this woman knew so much about her. Howard didn't even know her real age.
"So you've been fucked and you've sucked a guy off," Victoria said reflectively, as though taking inventory of Pamela's skills for some specialized job. "Have you ever had a lesbian experience with anyone?"
Pamela shook her head.
Victoria's tongue crept along the edge of her top lip. "Then you've never had your cunt eaten by anyone, have you?"
"That means I get first taste," Victoria hooted, "You're as good as a virgin as far as I'm concerned. By the way, would you like your daddy to hear a tape of our conversation?"
Pamela gasped in horror. "You wouldn't do anything like that!"
Victoria butted her cigarette viciously against the side of the van. "You haven't begun to see what things I can do," she asserted. "But if you'll be a nice girl and do as I say, you'll save us both a lot of trouble, Pamela. It would be a shame to have to send this tape"-she indicated a plastic box which Pamela assumed to be a tape recorder concealed under the mattress "-to your father and your school principal. Maybe we'd even drop a copy off to the police. Howard would find his ass in a sling for fucking a girl your age."
Pamela threw her hands over her ears to shut out Victoria's threats. "Don't, don't," she whimpered. "I'll do what you want. Howard is innocent. He doesn't know I'm underage."
"That doesn't make any difference in the eyes of the law," Victoria informed her. "Maybe you didn't know that. There seems to be a lot you don't know, but I'll change that. You're going to learn a great deal about sex in the next few days, and I'm going to enjoy teaching you." She scrutinized Pamela's cowering figure with a avaricious stare. "Now take off your coat. I want to see that cute little cunt again."
Repulsed as she was by Victoria's obscene treatment, Pamela's fear-numbed mind could not erase the wild throb still raging in her pussy. Though she did not admit it to herself, she was actually more horny now than she'd been when she'd first left her parents' home. She balked against removing her coat. She could feel the rumpled material of her dress bunched around her waist and she knew that as soon as the coat was taken off, there would indeed be a moment when she would be exposed to Victoria. She could feel the hem up high and the crotch of her panties still drawn tight up into her cunt and ass.
"Take it off!" Victoria snapped.
Pamela unfastened the top button of her coat, then the middle button, performing like a mechanical doll. She sorely regretted having dressed so sexily; with a rush of guilt, she told herself she deserved her present fate. Closing her eyes, trying to emotionally remove herself from the situation, she opened the coat, feeling the cool air surge over her thighs, her belly and her wet pussy. She froze in that position.
"Take it all the way off," Victoria said, her voice now mellower, lustier.
Pamela could feel the woman's eyes on her cunt. She shook the coat away from her arms, letting it fall in a heap behind her on the mattress.
"Don't bother to pull down your dress," Victoria said, anticipating Pamela's next move. "And I want you to open those big brown eyes."
Pamela blinked to see that the woman was leering at her pussy.
"Do you mind if I ask how you got so turned on, Pamela? Your cunt is just oozing with your sap!"
Pamela's face was a mantle of shame. She turned her eyes down to look at her pussy, the pink lips glistening, the crotch of her panties entirely hidden within the labial folds, the brown pubes curled in sticky locks, enshrining her lush, adolescent cuntmouth.
"Did you have some kind of sexual encounter before you came out of your house tonight, hmmm?"
"No ..." Pam could never confess to what she'd heard and seen of her parents. She would have to think of another excuse to explain her obvious state of arousal.
"Were you masturbating?"
"I... Yes," Pamela answered shakily. "I was."
Victoria seemed to enjoy the admission. "You must have been thinking about your date."
"Yes. I was thinking about Howard," Pamela lied.
Victoria looked at her sharply. "Do you ever have lesbian fantasies?"
The van rode over a bumpy section of road and Pamela gasped, sprawling backward. She caught herself and regained her balance, terrified of becoming any more vulnerable than she already was. Victoria's obsession with lesbianism was frightening; every time the other woman looked at her in that way, Pamela felt like she was going to be physically ill.
"I just think about guys," she answered.
"That's too bad." Victoria clucked her tongue. "There's nothing more erotic than making it with a woman." She gazed at Pamela's crotch again, even though now the girl had pressed her thighs together in a futile attempt to conceal the charms hidden there. "But that's one of the things you're going to learn."
Victoria's words rang in her ears. Surely she was not being abducted in this bizarre manner just to serve as a sexual toy for these women. "Can't you tell me why . . . you're kidnapping me?" she implored.
Victoria laughed, ignoring the question. "Have you ever touched another woman's cunt?" she asked instead.
Pamela found herself staring at Victoria's crotch in response to the question. The other woman's dress was more modestly arrayed, so that Pamela couldn't see the V at all. Victoria, however, readily opened her legs to show Pamela that her panties were black and opaque nylon. She slid the hem of her dress up to her hips while Pamela watched, mesmerized.
"Touch my cunt," Victoria commanded.
Pamela sat stricken, unable to obey and unable to tear her eyes away from the vulgar but irresistible sight.
"Touch it," Victoria urged her in a soft voice. "It won't bite you. Just touch my panties right where the pussy is. I want you to see how warm I am."
Pamela shivered involuntarily. She dared not disobey, yet, though she could not consciously admit it to herself, she wanted to have sex with this strange, beautiful woman. And she had never before wanted to have sex with a woman in her entire life. She peeked down again at the plushy, black satin mound. Something about it was unreal. It was too perfect, the way the smooth white legs were set off by the shiny black panties. There wasn't even a stray pubic hair in the hollows of the sculptured white groin.
"Oh, hurry Pamela," Victoria purred, "pat my soft little pussy for me. I'll bet you didn't know there was no hair on it."
Pamela was started. "What?"
"I shave it," Victoria whispered with a wink, as if confiding a secret. "I think my lovers like it best that way," she added. "I think you will, too. Now, just touch it, Pamela."
She didn't want to, but she had to. Pamela reached tentatively for the crotch. She was so beyond normal mental functioning it seemed as if her movements were executed underwater, in slow motion. She watched her slender fingers move closer to the licentious woman's snatch. Her fingertips touched where she guessed the cunthole to be from the shape of the tightly molded panties. The mound was hot and plushy.
"Now rub it," Victoria breathed.
Lightly, experimentally, Pamela stroked the confining blackness with her fingers. Her own pussy ached with lust. There was no denying it: Victoria's body was turning her on.
"I'll bet you'd like to lick it," Victoria said. "I'll bet you'd like to put your tongue in my cunt, wouldn't you? Maybe stick your finger way deep inside, too? Wouldn't that be exciting?"
Pamela kept methodically stroking, sweat breaking out on the back of her neck.
"But I'm not going to let you," Victoria said, her voice containing a taunting edge. "I'm not even going to let you see it ... yet. I'm going to wait until you beg me to shove it into your mouth. I'm not even going to take my panties off for you right now."
Pamela stopped caressing the warm crotch, but didn't dare remove her hand. She looked warily at Victoria.
"But I am going to let you smell it," Victoria rasped. "Would you like that?"
Pamela said nothing. She felt numb all over, except for the one tingling part of her that refused to stop throbbing.
"Would you like to smell my cunt?" Victoria asked again. "Answer me."
"I... don't. . . know . . ."
Victoria laughed and splayed her legs as wide as she could. "Put your nose down there," she said.
Her hand still pressed over the hidden twat, Pamela stared down at the wide-open crotch, "Get your head down there," Victoria repeated. "I want you to get a good whiff of my cunt just to make your mouth water a little."
Pamela lifted her hand off the cunt and leaned over so that her face was about a foot away from the pussy. Something inside said she should be thoroughly disgusted by this vile thing Victoria was making her do, but her instincts were less outraged.
"Closer," Victoria prodded.
She wished there was some way to appease Victoria without degrading herself. She obediently moved closer, still maintaining a good distance from the sweltering, cloth-covered mound.
"Touch your nose to it," Victoria said.
Well, I've tried to spare myself, Pamela rationalized as she dipped her face toward the aromatic spot. She was trembling all over as she lowered her head until the tip of her pert little nose nudged against the top of Victoria's cunt.
"Take a good whiff," came Victoria's husky voice. "Inhale nice and deep."
Pamela humbly did as she was told, and the pungent aroma from the woman's secretions caused her nostrils to flare. She could almost taste the briny sap. Her own cunt felt ready to burst.
"Good girl," Victoria said in the tone of voice one would use to a dog who'd just mastered a new trick. "Now lay down on the mattress."
Almost reluctantly, Pamela backed away from the hot, yearning cunt and rolled over so that she was stretched out on the length of the car bed. She wondered how far the van was going, and to her alarm she realized that she was hoping it wouldn't stop just yet.
"Spread your legs," came Victoria's command.
She knew it was no use resisting.
"Wider," Victoria suggested.
She extended her svelte legs farther apart, her libido rejoicing in her erotic new posture. I'm scared, she told herself in a panic. That's all I'm feeling. I'm just afraid of her.
"Take a look at your cunt, Pamela!"
She raised herself up on her elbows to look. Her own slit was a brazen, obscene sight, with her panties stuck up inside her like that. They were beginning to hurt, crammed up so tight against her sensitive tissues.
"You can't even see the crotch of your panties," Victoria pointed out with glee. "I want you to watch me dig your panties out of your cunt. I'm going to do it with my tongue."
A shudder ran through Pamela that had nothing to do with fear,
Victoria crouched like a cat between Pamela's wantonly spread young thighs. The woman's glistening pink tongue curled lasciviously out of her mouth as she bent to her task. She licked in tickling wet swirls at the hot valleys of Pamela's groin, nibbling and kissing at the soft meat of her inner thighs, slurping hungrily at the sensitive skin.
Pamela peered down through lustfully slitted eyes. Victoria was teasing her until she couldn't stand it any more. She almost wanted to take the woman's head and shove it right into her pussy so she would get eaten and finally come. It was only her tremendous guilt that prevented her from doing it.
Victoria started applying layers of her warm saliva to Pamela's covered pussylips, her tongue moving in long, tantalizing laps. Pamela squirmed, her breathing coming harder. She couldn't help but begin to moan, watching the, tongue bathe her outer cuntal passageway in titillatingly full licks. "Oh ... my God ... my God . . ."
Victoria lifted her head slightly to glance at Pamela. "Do you want me to take your panties off you now?"
I can't admit it, Pamela told herself, gritting her teeth to hold back her groans. I can't let myself give into this awful weakness. It's wrong, terribly wrong!
Victoria gave another lick, then asked again, "Do you, Pamela?"
She nodded.
"Tell me," Victoria said.
"I ... want you to ... do it .. ."
"Oh, Pamela, let's not go through this little game again. Tell me exactly what you want me to do." Victoria ran her tongue over her lips, which were already wet.
"I want . . . you to take my panties off me," Pamela stuttered.
"And how should I do it?"
"With . . . your tongue . . ."
Victoria shook with giggles. "You mean you want me to put my tongue inside your cunt?"
"Yes," Pamela squeaked.
"Tell me." Again, Victoria licked the labia.
"I want you to put . . . your tongue inside my . . . pussy," Pamela declared.
A salacious sparkle came into Victoria's eyes. "And no one has ever tasted your cunt before?"
"No.. .No one. . ."
"What a shame," Victoria cooed. "It's absolutely delicious, Pamela. You'll get to taste mine later, sweetie." And with that she bent her head down to the sappy cunt and began lapping at the plushy lips with renewed gusto. Her long slithering tongue probed into the slot like the head of a snake, twisting and twining around inside the hot depths, her mouth clamped around the undulating cuntlips, sucking at the hole and letting the hole suck back at the intruding plunger.
Pamela gyrated her hips, unable to keep still beneath the expertly administered oral stimulation. She was on the verge of coming, having totally forgotten that Victoria's face was actually buried in her quivering muff for a purpose, when Victoria started jerking her head back and forth with loud sucking noises, and Pamela felt her panties being tugged downward.
Victoria had managed to hook the tip of her tongue around the saturated band of silk that was the crotch of Pamela's panties, and she'd begun pulling it out of the vibrating snatch. Within a few seconds, Victoria had the crotch of the panties gripped firmly between her teeth. She drew her head back, peeling Pamela's panties down to unveil the fluffy blonde bush covering her drooling cunt.
Pamela arched up her ass to facilitate the removal of her briefs. Victoria yanked them down with her teeth and flung them off with a twist of her head. She turned back to Pamela's cunt with an animal lust and without hesitation Pamela opened her legs up wide again, exposing the sopping, inner pink tissues.
Victoria sneered. "Now tell me what you want me to do," she said.
Pamela needed no further inducement to voice her desires. "I want you to lick my pussy," she blurted out.
"What else?"
"I want you to stick your tongue up my cunthole."
An expression of delight crossed Victoria's face. She was leaning over, stationed on her elbows and knees, her rounded buttocks up in the air and her full tits swaying down lushly. Her face was smeared with cuntjuice. "What else?"
"I want you to suck on my clit," Pamela cried out.
Still, Victoria did not budge. "Anything else?"
"I want . . . you to make me come!"
Victoria touched a finger to the proudly displayed pubes. "Oh, I'm going to make you come," she husked. "I'm going to make you come like you've never come before, sweetie." She hunched into her work with zeal, gnawing into the raw meat of the cunt like a starving lioness, tonguing the hole, sucking at the throbbing clit.
Pamela started to cream almost immediately, her body shuddering with waves of pleasure, her pussy churning against the hot, invading tongue, a long wail of relief and satisfaction welling from her throat. She was coming and felt she would never stop, until suddenly there was a jolt of the van.
Victoria raised her head.
The van, which Pamela had completely forgotten they were in, had come to an abrupt halt and the engine had stopped.
"I guess we'll have to finish up later," Victoria announced, "because I'll have to ask you to put your blindfold back on right now." Victoria herself stood up and straightened her own disarrayed clothing. "Are you photogenic, Pamela?"
Pamela sat shakily up, pulling down her skirt. Her breathing was heavy and erratic. She saw her chewed-up panties in the corner of the mattress and decided to leave them there. Before she had a chance to answer Victoria's last peculiar question, Victoria was wrapping the blindfold over her eyes again, relegating her to a realm of darkness deeper than the dim light of the van's interior.
"We're going to take some pictures, Pamela," Victoria explained. "And I'm going to give you a few more lessons in your sex education."
Pamela stood up, her knees weak from exhaustion. "But can't you tell me why I'm with you? Does it have anything to do with Howard?"
Victoria's cruel laugh had lost all vestige of sensuality. "There's no reason for me to tell you why you're here, and what you don't know can't hurt you, as the saying goes."
There was a loud, creaking sound and a rush of cool night air, and Pamela realized the back door of the van had been swung open.
"Let's go, Vicki," the woman outside called.
Victoria took Pamela's hand- "Step down carefully," she said. "You wouldn't want to bruise that ripe young flesh before you've even learned how good it can really feel."
Chapter Four
Della Slate swung open the inner office door with a stack of mail addressed to Charles Roster, Assistant District Attorney, balanced in one hand and a stenographer's notebook clenched in the other.
Chuck Roster looked up from behind his massive mahogany desk as the attractive young secretary. entered the room, his dark-circled eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of Delia's distracting contours. She wriggled toward him in her tight knit dress, her full hips careening as she walked. Roster saw, by the distinct protrusion of her nipples against the clinging fabric of her sheath, that she hadn't heeded the administration's suggestion that female employees wear bras. Roster had just as soon let her continue to violate the rules. For some women, modesty might be commendable, but for Della it would have been a waste of her finest attributes.
"I've finished sorting the mail," she bubbled in her girlish soprano. "This is the urgent pile. There's a manila envelope on top that came special delivery for you and . . ." She paused in midsentence, regarding Roster with uncertainty. "Boss? Are you okay?"
Roster's gaze lifted from the swells of her tits to her blue eyes. "Uh, yeah .. . I'm a bit out of sorts today. Sorry."
Della stared at him a moment, her carmine lips drawing into a pout of concern. She set the mail on his desk, drumming her manicured nails on the wooden surface in a gesture that implied impatience but was actually nervous habit. Della was a very high-spirited chick. Roster had a few interesting scars on his back left by those raking red talons to testify to that. She was the ideal secretary: conscientious, efficient in the office, maternal in catering to his needs and like a wildcat in the sack.
"Is there anything ... I can do to cheer you up?" she drawled meaningfully, leaning over the desk so that her luscious breasts thrust toward him.
Roster appraised the sumptuous offer in silence, a pang in his groin rising to the temptation. "I didn't get a wink of sleep last night," he said, looking at the dress that was so snugly fitted to her lithe body he could almost make out the indentation of her navel. She was wearing stockings; he'd noticed that when she'd walked across the room, though now her sleek, shapely legs were blocked from his view by the bulk of the desk.
Despite her braless look, Della was an old-fashioned girl in a way he liked-she didn't go in for pantyhose. Instead, she wore garters-black lace ones, usually-and high heels. She liked to keep the stockings and heels on while he fucked her. Often as not, she'd lift her skirt and, presto, no panties. Just that golden-fleeced, dewy cunt, all ready and waiting for his stiff poker. A couple of times he'd slipped it to her during office hours on the lounge couch on the far side of his room, and once right on the desk.
"Worried about work?" Della inquired.
He shook his head, tearing his eyes from her ripe anatomy. "My daughter," he said.
"Your daughter?"
"My sixteen-year-old, Pamela," he clarified. "She's got my wife in a tizzy. Crazy kid didn't come home after church yesterday-"
Della's eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "Where do you think she is?"
Roster threw up his hands helplessly. "Beats me. Where do kids go these days? I figure she didn't go to church at all-probably sneaked out of the house Saturday night to go to one of those teenage parties and wound up smashed out of her skull. You know kids. She probably got one hell of a hangover and couldn't get herself together to make it home."
"Sure," Della agreed. "She'll probably show up today. I guess she'll catch hell from you when she does." She giggled wickedly at this thought. "Do you spank her?"
"I haven't for a couple years now, but I just might when I see her after the trouble this stunt of hers has caused me ... It may not be much more than a prank to her, but it could cause enough of a scandal to blow my chance at being elected D.A. next year."
Della moved around the desk until she was beside Roster's chair, allowing herself the liberty of sitting down on the wooden chair arm. Roster looked up at her as she curled her fingers playfully into his thick, graying hair. "My daddy spanked me until I was eighteen," she confessed. "Seems like every Friday night he had me over his knee for one damn thing or another."
Roster noticed the way her plump asscheeks squirmed around on the chair arm as she spoke, and he couldn't resist reaching across to pat her firm little bottom. "The way you say that, I'd wonder if it was all that unpleasant an experience."
"Oh, it was awful!" she exclaimed, shuddering for effect. Roster liked the way her flesh quivered when she trembled like that. "He used to whip me with his belt until I could hardly walk," she lamented. "God, it was embarrassing, too. He wouldn't even let me keep my panties on. I'd have to strip down to my bare ass and lay on his lap kicking and squalling while he took out all his frustrations on me."
"All his frustrations?" Roster challenged, suddenly intrigued by her story.
Her eyes sparkled. "Well, when he found out I'd lost my cherry-I was about seventeen then-he started punishing me in other ways, too. More enjoyable ways, though at the time I pretended not to like it, just so he'd do that instead of giving me the damned belt all the time."
"Do what? What kind of punishment?"
"Oh, what you're thinking," she grinned. "He'd fuck me. Good thing my poor mother never found out about that. She would have had a royal fit and thrown both of us out of the house. My mother was a regular Victorian type. But she never knew. He'd slip it to me in our basement, right there on the cold cement floor."
"I guess that's why you don't mind the desk," Roster couldn't help putting in.
She looked at him reproachfully, then burst out with a laugh despite herself. "And all those spankings with no panties on must have given me some kind of complex, too," she added, guiding his hand beneath her dress.
Roster felt up the warm smooth thigh to the moss-covered heat of her pussy. Sure enough, her cunt was naked as the day she was born. It felt as if there were a furnace between her legs. Roster pressed his fingers against the hot snatch and she wriggled enticingly.
Della leaned over and nibbled at his ear, her big tits brushing against his arm as she moved. His hand was still plastered against her cunt, and when he rooted around there he discovered a welcoming moistness.
"Uh, do I have any appointments within the next hour?" he grunted.
She inched off the chair arm and into his lap, her arms going around his neck as she nuzzled her lips across his face. "Nope."
He'd meant to warn her to be a little discreet about lipstick smears, but he guessed it was too1 late for that. Her blazing lips sought his and they melted together in a consuming, passionate kiss-, His hand left her twat and moved to her bouncy breasts as their tongues flickered and lashed in liquid contact.
Della went as limp as a contented kitten his lap as Roster fondled her body through her dress, their lips still tightly locked in a wet kiss. For a moment Roster considered getting up to lock the office door, but the sultry weight of the woman in his lap atrophied his muscles. He stabbed his tongue far into her mouth as she sucked mischievously on it, nibbling with a blunt pressure of her teeth that nevertheless sent sparks through the length of his spine.
Della stole a hand down to stroke his hardened cockstem. She frictioned her palm against his cloth-bound prick as he mashed his lips passionately to hers, making him wish she'd save a little of her expert mouth action for the painfully aching bone beneath her hand.
Roster could feel the dampness of his seminal fluid as it formed a liquid droplet on his cockhead.
He knew that Della couldn't feel it with her fingers as she continued to massage his throbbing lump. But he also knew that if she kept it up, he'd come with just the practiced rubbing of her fingers. He enjoyed the teasingly pleasant sensation, kneading her pliant breasts as she emitted throaty groans of delight.
"I want you to fuck me, Chuck," she whispered hoarsely, giving his cock an urgent squeeze. "Pour all your troubles into my hot little cunt."
Without waiting for his consent, she pulled free from his embrace and, with a graceful motion, lifted her dress over her head. It peeled off like old skin, her creamy jugs jiggling loose, the dusky nipples marking the centers of her quivering targets. Roster leaned forward and seized her by the waist, drawing her slender body close enough to give him access to the sweet buds of her nipples. She cast the dress to the floor carelessly and shivered with excitement as his mouth closed over the tip of her right tit, sucking the tingling nipple into an erect lobe. She offered him the left one, pulling his head to her as though he were an infant in need of her lusty milk.
Roster pulled his head back to admire his work, approving the way her nipples stood up like little pink corks. She was naked except for the frilly garters-red ones, this time-and sheer nylon stockings. Roster slid his hands down her back to grip her plump buttocks, then ran a hand down one nylon-clad leg. He could feel her shiver at his touch, and now, with her bare muff just inches from his nose, he could smell her heady arousal. She canted her pelvis toward him, inviting him to explore her twat.
He stood up abruptly, nearly tipping her over onto the desk in his hurry to strip off his trousers.
"Quick, before the phone rings or something," she encouraged him, her eyes glued to his fly as he worked to undress.
Roster dropped his pants and shorts, his unleashed prick rising like a dowsing rod to point at Della's golden cuntmouth.
She bent over and planted a tender kiss on his cockhead before darting around the desk to the couch, where she flung herself down in wanton anticipation. Her ivory skin made a striking contrast to the dark red naugahyde upholstery, her thighs sprawled lewdly, watching Roster through narrowed eyes.
He stared at her a moment, visually feasting on her sumptuous nude flesh, before making a path around the desk to join her. As he neared the couch, she stuck her arms out to him and undulated her hips suggestively, silently beseeching him to hurry. Roster bent down over her prostrate body, fastening his lips to the raw nipple of her left breast. She moaned as he sucked at the tender bud, her tit quivering as she heaved a deep sigh.
As the couch was not wide enough for him to conveniently climb beside her, he contented himself with kneeling by her side, his hands roaming over the softness of her thighs and hips, his mouth tantalizing one nipple, then the other. She arched her back at him as if to stuff the palpitating white mounds of her tits down his throat, all the while giving out little squeals of ecstasy. She was getting hotter, grinding her ass against the slippery seat in growing impatience.
"Oh, Christ, I can't wait to feel your beautiful prick screwing my cunt!" she rasped, pawing at him. clutching his engorged cock as though to save herself from drowning.
When Roster fingered the heated lips of her cunt, she did seem to be overflowing with lubricious juices. "You're not going to have to wait long, baby," he assured her, prying her legs farther apart so he could easily situate himself between them.
With a flash of foresight, Della reached beneath the couch to retrieve a terrycloth bath towel placed within reach for just such occasions as this. She lifted her buttocks up to slip the towel beneath her, thus sparing the couch any telltale stains. Already she was so eager she could feel her cuntsap trickling down the insides of her gorgeous legs.
Roster levered up over her, planting his elbows on either side of her on the narrow ledge of the seat cushion, easing his weight down carefully so as not to hurt her and not to upset their delicate balance on the couch. Della raised her legs high and wide to accommodate him, thrusting up her pelvis to assure his entry.
He jabbed his hips at her and felt his prick slide across her tissue, missing the target. She cried out in mild dismay and shook her ass at him in frantic excitement, making it all but impossible for him to get his cock aimed right.
"Take it easy," he advised her, scooting a hand down between their sandwiched bodies to guide his throbbing cock. She cooed and trembled but did not move her pelvis as his pudgy cockhead parted the moist, fleshy lips of her cunt.
Della could hardly bear the suspense as she felt the warm contact against the sensitive, rippling membranes of her aroused pussy. She caught her breath sharply, her nails scraping the leather cushions as she felt the first erotic thrill of pressure against the quaking elastic opening of her twat.
"Oh, God, stick it in me, Chuck! Stick it in as far as it will go!" Even as she begged him, she dared not yet move for fear the slightest twist of her body might dislodge him.
Roster was purposefully prolonging this moment, enjoying Della's desperate cravings as much as his own. He pushed forward an inch, pitting the willpower against the urge to slam it into her to the hilt.
Della wanted so much to wriggle and pump herself up to him, to be deliriously speared on his wonderful cock, but she told herself it still wasn't safe to abandon herself to her instincts. She and Roster had several games they played to tease and torment each other this way. Sometimes they had contests to see which one could make the other come the quickest. It was the kind of game that made losing as much fun as winning.
Now Della's breathing became rapid and shallow and she began to grind her hips involuntarily as Roster's thick, excitingly stiff cock stretched farther, a fraction of an inch at a time, into the wet well of her cunt- "More, more," she implored in a shrill voice. "Shove it in me, damn it! Tear me wide open with your fucking prick!"
Roster tried to resist the viselike pull of her churning inner tissues, but he could stand it no longer. He let himself slide forward, his cock lunging into her hot, liquid chasm so fast it made a wet, smacking sound as his balls flopped against her upturned asscheeks.
"God, yes, yes!" Della shrieked, no longer restraining herself. "Fuck me good! Make me go crazy!" She jerked her twat up at him, his cock filling her hole marvelously, sunk so deep into her body it seemed he would ram right through to her heaving chest. She writhed and flailed beneath him like an eel impaled on a stick. It seemed she could feel every ridge and indentation of his bludgeoning rod as it frictioned against the soft flesh of her cunt, fucking her deliriously.
Roster began a slow tempo, skewering her with his anxious prick much more slowly than her responses warranted. In a moment of excruciating pleasure, Della gave up and resigned herself to following his lead, taking an erotic delight in the molten lust of their fucking. She tilted her face up to find his lips and kissed him ardently, sucking on his tongue as if it were another cock, trying to goad him into more energetic action.
Scorching flames of desire coursed through Roster's veins; he no longer worried about being caught in the act. The office had ceased to exist for him. All his consciousness held was the beautiful, squirming morsel locked beneath him and the exquisite sensations shooting like firecrackers through his nervous system.
Della was digging her nails into his back again, but he hardly cared if she clawed holes in him. His whole body twitched and bucked into her, delivering his cock to her cunt and his lips to her insistent mouth, stabbing his tongue back to her throat as she made growling sounds of passion.
They were fucking faster now, their bodies pumping and rocking together in wild abandon, causing the couch to bump rhythmically against the wall with a dull thud.
Roster labored above her, accelerating his pace, sinking his cock almost all the way to the roots, then withdrawing from her steamy canal on the backstroke. Della gasped with surprise as the intensity of his pistoning brought both pleasure and pain. She tried to twist away a bit to deter the steady pounding of his rigid pole into her marshy depths, but there was no room on the couch for her to escape him.
Her whimpering and spastic pelvic movements served to further incense him and he thrust even harder, screwing his prick so far into her she had no possibility of retreat. The fact of his virility added an egotistical pride to his lust. Even at forty, he was a damn good stud and he knew it. It had taken him almost two years to get into his young secretary's pants, but after the first time, he couldn't keep Della away from him. Sometimes he wished she weren't so willing and eager for his cock-it was downright unethical to be giving her quickies in the office like this.
Della emitted a moan between clenched teeth, her cuntmuscles clutching madly at the stiff bulk of manmeat prodding all the way to her womb. She wished she could give way to the urge to scream with passion, but for discretion's sake she merely grunted in a raspy whisper, "God, that's good! Do it to me! Gouge your big cock into my cunt until it hurts!"
Her verbalized desires fanned his lust, and he ground into her squirming, soft wet hole as she strained to take in more of him, arching her loins up at him, hugging his outer thighs with her nylon-smooth legs, lifting her ass right off the seat cushion to receive the full impact of his raging thrusts. She rolled her head from side to side and groaned as he pounded into her body, pressing her legs tight around his hips as she accepted his harsh, driving rhythm.
His cock felt as if it were growing and inflating inside her until it would surely burst. He could sense by the way her tissues convulsed around his stalk that she wasn't far from completion, and he didn't want to fire off his own load until he'd satisfied her. That was his secret-he always gave women what they wanted, and they always came back to him for more.
Della's heavy breathing increased until she sucked in a deep breath and didn't exhale. She was at her peak, her body taut, frozen, her thighs gripping him like silken pliers, her cunt voraciously milking his pulsing, burning prick. He knew she was coming and he charged at her with all his strength, relentlessly battering the wet, fragile, electrified tissues until Della felt like she would pass out from sheer rapture.
She made a gurgling noise, her body contorting, rippling with wave after wave of pleasure, her legs cemented around Roster's lean, hairy ass, her cunt shamelessly oozing her fluids onto his balls as they slapped in a wicked drumbeat against her cushioning buttocks. Roster felt welded to her, both of them lathered with sweat, their flesh sliding together as if they'd been greased from head to toe with warm oil.
"I'm cominnng!" she wailed in a staccato shriek, hanging onto him as though her very life depended upon it. "Oooh!"
Then, as though the sudden expenditure of energy had completely depleted her, she went limp, collapsing on the couch, her cuntmuscles spasming a few last times.
But nothing could stop Roster now. He let nature take its course, and its course was as devastating as a hurricane as he exploded, shooting his cream into her dripping hole with violent force. He blew another round into her, and another, his sperm surging forth to splash in hot shocks against her quivering, ravished vaginal walls.
As he withdrew his spent cock from her sopping twat, their separation accompanied by a wet, suctioning sound, Della smiled up at him in languid contentment.
"You really know how to treat a woman right," she said.
Roster chuckled and stalked back to his desk to collect their discarded, clothing from the floor. He threw her dress at her and hurriedly slipped into his own trousers. "Yeah, but we better get down to business here. As the next D.A. I've got to have more on my record than that sort of a credit, even though I appreciate the compliment."
Della giggled and pulled the dress over her head, further messing her strawberry-blonde hair. "I better go to the powder room and fix myself up," she said. She walked over to the door, stopping to pick up a piece of mail that had fallen from the desk. "Here's that special-delivery letter," she told him.
"Open it," he directed her, settling back in his chair.
Della used her long nails to cut open the envelope. "It's a photograph," she said, withdrawing the picture from the envelope. Her hand froze as she lifted out two-thirds of the photo. "Oh, my God!"
The photograph was of a naked black man and a young white girl kneeling before him, her nude profile revealing her youth. The girl had her hands around the black guy's cock-it was one of the biggest pricks Della had ever seen-and the girl's tongue was licking the dark meat of the man's glans.
Roster noticed the look of shock cross Della's face and he sprang to his feet. "What is it, Della?"
She looked up at him hesitantly. "It's just. . . some crank sent you a dirty picture," she said shakily, handing over the evidence. "There's no letter-and no return address. Just this snapshot."
Roster casually reached for the envelope, intending to tear the picture up. He infrequently received the not-too-fond regards of ex-cons he'd helped send to prison, and such mail did not faze him. He was not concerned about this particular piece of hate mail, if that's what it was. Until he saw the girl's face, that is.
He quickly turned the photo face down on the desk and frantically scanned the envelope. "Where'd this letter come from?" he demanded.
Della shook her head in bewilderment. "It was delivered with the morning mail. As I said, there doesn't seem to be a return address. Chuck, "don't let it get to you. It's probably some idiot's idea of a joke."
"This isn't a very funny joke," Roster said harshly. "The girl in this picture- ' his voice faltered momentarily "-is my daughter!"
Chapter Five
"I hope you're feeling up to making some movies today," Victoria said by way of greeting as she entered the small bedroom which served as Pamela's cell.
Pamela was naked, supine on the king-sized mattress, one ankle securely cuffed in a steel ring and braced to the metal bed frame by a long heavy chain which allowed her freedom to move around the barren room or to use the chamber pot which was beneath the bed. But the chain stopped short of the door. This was the first she'd seen of Victoria in over twenty-four hours.
After the two women had brought Pamela into the house and had removed her blindfold, they'd forced her under threat of physical punishment to pose for a photograph with a huge black man. They'd made her suck on his prick until it was erect, then Victoria had taken a picture of her with the cock in her mouth. As soon as the photo had been snapped, however-before the powerfully large man had orgasmed the other woman, Dolly, had taken him off somewhere.
Then Victoria had chained Pamela to the bed. The girl had no clothes, not even a blanket, though the room itself was kept comfortably warm. Save for a half-hour-long shower Sunday morning,
Pamela had remained isolated in her bleak bedroom. Dolly brought her meals in on a tray, but hardly spoke to her. Pamela was beginning to feel like a prisoner in solitary confinement. She wasn't sure what Victoria meant by "making some movies," nor did she feel especially anxious to find out.
"My father doesn't have a lot of money," she said to Victoria, hoping to squeeze some information out of her. "What other reason could you possibly have for kidnapping me?"
Victoria fished a key out of the deep side pocket of her full-length robe and unlocked Pamela's ankle cuff with a twist of her wrist. "What your father has is my business," she said dryly. "Now you just come quietly with me and you won't get hurt." She took Pamela's hand and led her out of the room, directing her through a door across the hall.
The new room was as small as the original cell, but not so devoid of furnishings. A long, sturdy, metal work table dominated the room, a few straight chairs around it, a satin-sheeted mattress in one corner on the floor with huge foam-rubber-filled throw pillows on either side of it. There were also a couple of tall portable spotlights on tripods-one on either side of the table.
"Have a seat," Victoria said, motioning with her hand to one of the straight wooden chairs at the head of the table.
Pamela pulled out the chair and glumly sat down, depressed and frightened.
"Today you get to eat my pussy," Victoria announced bluntly, almost cheerfully. "Are you hungry?"
"I won't do it."
Victoria laughed, seating herself on the edge of the table. "If I remember correctly, you were quite willing and ready to eat me out Saturday night."
"I was not!" Pamela interjected. "And you can't make me do it now. You just want to humiliate me. Before I was too scared to know what I was doing, but it's different now."
Victoria was ogling Pamela's bare tits. "I'll tell you what, sweetie. If you don't want to eat my cunt, you don't have to. Nobody's going to twist your arm. But I have a theory that so far you haven't disproved: every woman is a lesbian at heart. I know you're going to suck my snatch"-
"I won't!" Pamela protested, folding her arms to hide her vulnerable tits from Victoria's leering gaze. "I am not a lesbian! Just because your mind is warped doesn't mean mine is too!"
"You'll eat me," Victoria stated with conviction. "And you'll eat me because you want to do it. And you're even going to do it for the camera."
"You're out of your mind!"
"You seemed to like it an awful lot when I ate your cunt," Victoria reminded her.
"You forced me into that,'" Pamela countered. "You threatened me ... If you get a movie of me eating you out, it'll only be if you half-beat me to death first. And even then, I won't do it. No matter what, your movie will show that I'm being made to do it against my will!"
Victoria's laugh was chilling. "You certainly don't know yourself very well, Pamela. I can almost feel your hot little tongue on my clit already"
"Never!"
Victoria swung her draped legs up onto the table. "Would you like to see my pussy?" she said arrogantly. "It's every bit as pretty as yours." Victoria started to trail the hem of her gown up her long, white, showgirl legs.
"You're perverted!" Pamela cried, but her eyes followed the progress of the robe up over the knees, to the tops of Victoria's creamy rich thighs.
"Of course I'm perverted," Victoria drawled. "In fact, I'd be more insulted if you accused me of being normal. We perverts have all the fun." She spread her legs open wide to display the crotch of her red lace panties. She was watching Pamela's dilating eyes, which were trained on her groin. "Now don't dive in yet, Pamela. We have to wait for the camera crew."
"I'm not going to dive into anything!" Pamela averted her eyes from the lewd sight, burying her face in her arms on the table.
"We'll see about that," Victoria retorted. She started to rub her hand on her cunt. "You don't mind if I masturbate a little bit, do you, sweetie? I can get my cunt all ready for you."
Pamela sighed in frustrated anger. "Do whatever you want," she said. She couldn't help but hear Victoria's passionate breathing and the brisk rubbing of her fingers on the flimsy panties. Pamela's clit faintly pulsed with a lust she did not want to acknowledge. Could she really be susceptible to Victoria's vulgar tactics? She was sure she would never make love to a woman unless she was physically forced into doing it. But just how much force would actually be required, she was afraid to ask herself.
"Once you've had a taste of pussy, you'll never go back to prick," Victoria purred. "I won't do it," Pamela said staunchly.
There was a commotion at the door and Pamela looked up to see that Doily had entered, accompanied by a tall, bearded man-very distinguished-looking and about thirty-five-who was carrying a movie camera in his hands.
"Don't start without us," Dolly called over to Victoria.
Victoria kept on petting her pantied cunt. "I'm just helping our star get into the mood."
A second later, the tall black man whose prick Pamela had been forced to suck the day before swaggered into the room. He was naked.
The man with the camera turned one of the spotlights directly onto Pamela, "Are you ready to get into that white pussy, Hugh?" he said to the black guy.
Hugh grinned at Pamela. "You know what they say, George. They're all pink on the inside." He made an obscene, smacking sound with his lips.
Pamela guiltily remembered the episode the day before, and how secretly excited she'd been while she'd sucked Hugh's cock. She had felt a definite disappointment when Doily had taken off with him . . . She'd hoped he might fuck her. But now what were they talking about? Was he going to shove that frighteningly magnificent cock into her pussy? And what about Victoria? Where did she fit in?
Victoria had one of her hands inside her panties, avidly fingerfucking herself. Or so it appeared. Pamela had never before witnessed such blatant depravity. She wondered how Victoria could do such a thing without becoming highly self-conscious.
"Did you tell Pamela about the script?" Dolly asked Victoria nonchalantly, not in the least perturbed by her sister's behavior.
"Not the details," Victoria said in a gaspy voice, continuing to diddle herself with delirious abandon.
Dolly turned to Pamela. "We're going to make a movie of you eating Victoria's pussy," she declared. "And it has to be realistic. I can tell by the look on your face that you might not be cooperative-yet." She looked over her shoulder at Hugh, who was lecherously standing a few feet away from Pamela's chair. "So, Hugh is going to sit under the table and eat your pussy. That won't be on the film, of course."
Pamela couldn't believe her ears. What Dolly was implying was a thousand times worse than anything she'd imagined they'd do to her.
"You can take my word for it," Dolly went on blithely, "Hugh has one of the most talented tongues you'll ever have up your snatch. But the catch is this: he's not going to let you come until after you make Victoria come. He'll suck your clit until you're nearly climbing the wall.. . and then he'll stop. Until you go along with the script, that is." She smiled sadistically. "And sooner or later, you will."
Pamela looked wildly from one face to the other, wondering if they were all insane. Even the cameraman looked on vacuously, as though the world could blow up for all he cared. Wasn't there a spark of decency in any of them?
Victoria cocked her head up to peer at Pamela under the bright spotlight. "Do you want to take my panties off, sweetie?" she asked. "Or should I do it myself?"
Pamela focused on Victoria's crotch; the red panties were now saturated with her juices. "I'm not going to touch you!" she said with a bravery she no longer felt. The pungent odor of warm pussy drifted to her nostrils; she realized it was partly Victoria's musk, and partly her own.
Hooking her thumbs over the waistband of the panties, Victoria made a project of pushing them down her legs, bringing her knees together and jackknifing them, then tossing the drenched garment to the floor. She scissered open her legs and did a forward crawl on her buttocks until she was so close to Pamela her slit was directly beneath Pamela's face.
Pamela gasped at the sight of the shaven cunt. The vulva was as smooth as a split oyster, glistening with dewy droplets of cuntsap, the hole open, begging to be filled . . . filled with her own sensual tongue.
Pamela felt a rush of her own fluids. From-the corner of her eye, she saw Hugh duck beneath the table. She squealed as his strong hands attacked her, prying open her resisting thighs.
George was focusing the camera.
Victoria undulated her hips. "C'mon, Pamela, baby, give my little pussy a kiss. I've got it all warmed up for you-."
"Okay, Hugh," George exclaimed. "Dig in."
Dolly stood on the sidelines out of the range of the camera.
Pamela jerked backward in her chair as a hot mouth clamped over her cunt.
"There's no sound track on the film in case you're considering lousing things up by yelling,"
Dolly's austere voice broke through to her. "And I'd advise you not to put up a fight with poor Hugh down there, or we might have to cut this take and slap you around a little bit. Get it?"
Defeated, Pamela nodded, slumping in her chair. She wished she knew self-hypnosis or something that could help her numb her body to the stimulation it was getting from Hugh.
George was busy getting close-ups of Victoria's wiggling, hairless cunt and suddenly he switched to Pamela's tense face. Try as she might to look disgusted, the provocation she was getting below the table gave her features a distinctly excited expression.
Hugh was sucking on Pamela's clitoris, sparing her nothing as he whipped his tongue around her most sensitive lobe, destroying her resolve to remain unaffected. Her brown eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. It occurred that she might throw her hands over her face, but it was too late. The camera had already captured her lustful expression. She wanted to reach below the table and protect her cunt with her hands, but she figured Dolly would say she was obstructing Hugh, so she didn't try it.
Pamela noticed there was a small lavender heart tattooed at the base of Victoria's ass, right below her tailbone, which had now come partly into Pamela's line of vision. Victoria was pushing her butt off the table to serve herself up to Pamela's face. She was determined to get her cunt licked, one way or another. Her cunthole was brimming with watery lubricant, just as Pamela's own cunt was now flowing, except Pamela's juice was being sucked up as fast as she could produce it.
"Baby, baby, eat me," Victoria crooned, gyrating her oozing, bare snatch invitingly. She pulled her legs back, lewdly grabbing them behind the knees to wedge herself wide open.
"Give her a finger, too, Hugh," Dolly suggested.
Pamela twitched her legs in astonishment as one of Hugh's long, deft fingers explored her pussylips, beneath his tongue action at her clit. Then the irritating finger started corkscrewing up her gaping hole.
Pamela squirmed, unable to remain motionless under the barrage of sexual excitement, yet her squirming only increased the lust she shouldn't have been letting herself feel, All of her senses were being simultaneously bombarded-touch, sound, smell, sight. All that was left was taste, and Victoria's dripping cunt was pleading to be savored.
Pamela was shaking, her orgasm ready to render her helpless, her clit throbbing so much the sensation was almost painful, when suddenly Hugh pulled his mouth from her shimmering gash and Pamela was stranded on the precipice of satisfaction.
"Oh, sweetie, baby," Victoria purred, her voice sticky-sweet, pouring into Pamela's confused system like molasses. "Eat my little pussy, baby, then Hugh will finish eating yours."
Pamela bit so hard on her lip she drew blood. She could hear the camera whirring ominously in front of her. "No . . . never . . ." she insisted.
As soon as Pamela's breathing became regular again, Hugh attached himself tike a leech to her throbbing cunt, and the torture began anew. He slid his tongue over and around the nubbin of her jutting clit until she thought she would scream with agony.
Her eyes bulged open, her muscles stiffened, her breasts quivered in animal splendor, the small berry-colored nipples wrinkled with excitement. A hollow, guttural moan of lust escaped her throat.
It didn't take so long this time. Her entire body was shivering on the summit of impending orgasm, beads of sweat breaking all over her pink flesh.
Again, Hugh's vibrating lips and tongue action disappeared from her rippling slit.
Involuntarily, Pamela thrust up her pelvis beneath the table to try to re-engage his mouth. "Don't stop, don't stop . . ." she whimpered.
"Ooowee! Baby!" came the voice beneath the table. "You are hot!".
Victoria's grinding, slick twat lurched up promisingly. "Just a little lick," she cajoled. "Just a couple of little licks on my hot clitoris, then put your tongue inside as deep as you can get it. I want you to do to me what Hugh is doing to you. Just listening to you two is more than I can stand."
"No," Pamela said weakly. "I won't... I can't. .." Her eyes were fixed on the bald, brassy cunt.
"Suck it up," Victoria persisted. "Suck my pussy the way I already sucked yours, then Hugh will give you what you need."
To corroborate the statement, Hugh's tongue gave an unexpected electric tickle to Pamela's burning clit, but he again quickly pulled away from her.
"Eat it out, Pamela," Victoria tempted her. "Eat my delicious, aching cunt!"
Hugh punctuated Victoria's exclamation with a long, stiff middle finger all the way up Pamela's pussy.
The digital intrusion jolted her almost out of her seat. She tried to scoot up and down on the invading poker to bring about her orgasm but, again, he withdrew too soon.
Pamela was half out of her wits with sexual frustration. She had to come, she just had to. They couldn't keep doing this to her or she'd go mad. Not really considering what she was doing, she stole her hand down to her violently pulsing cunt, but her fingers had no sooner made contact with her hungry tissues than Hugh's iron hand clamped around her wrist and held her arm away from her body.
She groaned in anguish. If she could only have a climax, just one . .. They couldn't make her do the terrible thing they were demanding.
"Pin her hands if she tries that again," Dolly's voice filtered from behind the cameraman. "She's going to eat it now. I can tell."
"It's not fair!" Pamela wailed, eyeing Victoria's wriggling cunt- "It's just not fair!"
"Do it," Victoria urged her. "It will be so good, for both of us. Do it, baby."
Her reasoning powers blocked by the frantic needs of her body, Pamela leaned slowly forward, her face nearing the lovely, bare, female well Victoria was canting towards her. The tip of Pamela's tongue ventured out from between her trembling lips. She shouldn't be doing it, but she had to-
Down, down she lowered her head. Though the muff was only inches away, it seemed as though she were descending miles and miles into some inferno of sin. She hesitated a final moment before doing the inevitable, then her tongue swabbed the delicate pink petals of Victoria's cuntlips.
Pamela's taste buds rejoiced with the salty tang of warm pussy secretions. Her inhibitions unshackled, she licked at the pudgy lips, then dipped the full length of her tongue into the briny pool of Victoria's snatch.
Victoria growled, "Drink it, drink it, drink my sweet honey, baby. Make me come."
Pamela swallowed some of the copious ooze, then sipped up some more.
Dolly giggled triumphantly. "Our naive young schoolgirl looks like she's in another world!" she cried. "She really likes it. Look how she's gobbling up Victoria's cunt!"
Pamela tried to ignore the words as she sucked and licked at the undulating pussy. She was in another world, a nether land of sensuality and carnal passion. And, notwithstanding the unscrupulous means they'd used to con her into eating Victoria's pussy, she really was enjoying her task. Thoughts of her own orgasm had vanished; she was so absorbed in the wonders of orally servicing another woman's aching twat she could hardly worry about her own.
Victoria twined her greedy fingers into Pamela's long hair. "Eat me, baby, eat me! God, it feels so goood!"
Pamela gnawed at the smooth, slippery, coral-pink cunt, lapping mindlessly, thrilling at the way Victoria's body pitched and jerked from the tantalizing oral administration. Pamela explored the inner tissues with her tongue, feeling the strong muscles expanding and contracting with mounting excitement. She liked the taste, the smell, the velvety texture of the simmering female organ. It was better than she had ever dreamed it might be.
"Suck my clit!" Victoria screeched.
Pamela delved into the area where she knew the small pleasure button would be, nibbling it between her lips, applying a steady suction to the hardened node of skin, grazing her tongue rhythmically over the membrane of the glans.
Victoria rocked her pelvis and grunted and groaned with delight. "That's the way, baby! Make me come! Suck it! Suck it! Suck it!"
Increasing the pressure on the tiny knob, as if she were sucking at a miniature cock, fluttering her tongue in rapid agitation, Pamela could sense Victoria's imminent climax.
Victoria pushed Pamela's face harder into her wet crotch, smashing her fleshy cuntlips flat into the sucking, gnawing mouth, so that Pamela could hardly breathe. "Oh, God! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Pamela sucked even more ferociously at the twitching, spasming crotch, letting the hot saline juices run down her throat, the overflow drooling out of her mouth down her chin. She could feel the clit vibrating against her upper lip, the friction causing Victoria to experience ecstasy upon ecstasy.
Finally, with Victoria's orgasms tapering off, Pamela regained awareness of her own unsatisfied pussy. She was more turned on now than ever. With this realization followed the knowledge of what she had just done, that it was all on film. She wanted to bury her face.
She had eaten cunt and she couldn't deny it.
And the way she must have appeared on the film, as if it were her greatest passion . . . No one would believe she was not really a lesbian if they saw that.
Pamela cocked her face away from Victoria's satiated pussy and tried to wipe the incriminating wetness from her chin and cheeks. She wondered when Hugh would give her the relief she so desperately needed. It was a few seconds before she realized he was no longer beneath the table. She spun around to see him standing beside Dolly.
The camera, which had been whirring away all this time, suddenly stopped. The abrupt silence seemed more formidable to Pamela than the noise of the camera. She breathed a ragged sigh, waiting.
"Man, that look on her face was precious," George said. He flicked off the spotlight.
Pamela felt the last glimmer of her own hopes black out with it. They had her at their mercy, and she had no idea what limits they'd go to. Obviously, they were all deranged. She had no reason to think she might be able to talk with them rationally. She wondered, with dull alarm, what they planned to do with the film. She wondered if she would ever be the same after they released her, if they even intended to release her. Maybe they just wanted to turn her into an animal. She shuddered at the thought.
Chapter Six
"Okay, Vicki," Dolly broke the silence. "You can wake up now. Part One is all over. Time to get ready for Part Two!"
Victoria rolled over on her side to scrutinize Pamela. "Sweetie, that was absolutely fantastic. Are you sure you never ate pussy before?"
Pamela bowed her head with shame, her throat constricting as she fought against tears. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "I hate you," she answered in a low tone.
A mirthless chuckle came from Victoria's lungs. She sat up on the table, not bothering to rearrange her robe, which was open wide enough to advertise her nakedness beneath it. Her full breasts bounced as she laughed. "It doesn't really matter who or what you hate, sweetie- My best friend couldn't give my cunt better treatment than you just did."
"Let's get on with it, Vicki," Dolly broke in. "It's Pamela's turn to get up there on the table and Hugh's turn to be seated."
"No!" Pamela spun to glare maliciously at Dolly. "If you want me up there, you'll have to . . ." She let the rest of the sentence dangle.
"We'll have to what?" Victoria challenged her. "You seem to forget, sweetie: you're our captive. You do as we say, not the other way around. If you want to scream, go ahead and scream. If you want to faint, then faint. But if you want to get nasty with us, you'd better look at the odds first."
Victoria swept her bare legs off the edge of the table and jumped to the floor, momentarily giving Pamela a glimpse of the ludicrous tattoo on her full, white-mooned ass before sliding her robe down to cloak herself.
"Okay, Pamela, get up there," Dolly repeated.
"Wait, a minute," Victoria cut in. "I have a better idea for the second part of the film. How much film is left, George?"
He shrugged. "We're about a hundred feet down and another hundred to go."
Victoria looked contemplative. "How much trouble would it be to shoot the rest of the film on the mattress?" she asked.
"No sweat," he said. "Just have to change the lighting a bit."
"Get down on the mattress," Victoria said to Pamela. Pamela stayed defiantly where she was.
"You're a strong-willed little bitch, aren't you?" Victoria snarled at her. "I hope you didn't inherit that trait from your father, or it's going to be bad news for both of you."
"Shut up, Vicki," Dolly interrupted. "The less she knows, the better." She took a few threatening steps towards Pamela, her hand extended in a claw, flashing her long, silver-pink nails. "Get down there," she commanded sharply. "Get down or I'll decorate your pretty face with your own blood."
Pamela saw she had no choice: they really could-quite possibly planned-to kill her. Since they'd brought her into this room, she'd been furtively examining it for escape routes. It was windowless, and aside from the one door leading to the hall, there was no exit. Even if she made a run for the door, she'd hardly be able to outdistance all four of them. And then, she didn't know how many more people were involved. From the architecture of the room, she imagined the place to be part of an old house, probably a mansion. That meant they were already rich. But if they weren't holding her for ransom, exactly what did they want?
"Get on that mattress!" Victoria hissed.
Pamela skidded back her chair and meekly stood up. She trudged over to the low mattress and sank down upon it, her legs curled up to conceal as best she could her pubic area.
"Lie down on your back," came Victoria's brittle command.
Pamela clenched her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to bear them all staring at her dripping twat, and she knew that's what they would all be leering at. Her legs felt sticky with the warm, sappy mixture of her own cuntal lubricant and Hugh's saliva. She thought to press her thighs together but didn't. The gesture would be futile, she knew. One of them would just command her to spread her legs again, drawing more attention than if she remained limply sprawled the way she was. She wondered if they were able to view her little pink clitoris which was surely poking out from its hood at the top of her vulva-she could feel it pulsating, excited almost to the point of hurting.
Victoria took Hugh aside, but she made no attempt to modulate her tone of voice when she spoke to him. "Run down to my room," she instructed him, "and look in the top drawer of the night table. I want you to bring me my purple dildo-not the red one, the purple one. That's the big one."
"Gotcha," he replied with a wink, then disappeared down the hall.
Pamela knew what a dildo was-some of the girls had once brought one to school. Then it had been used as a joke-the girls had hidden it in the office desk of a particularly hated female gym teacher. Pamela had never known anyone who'd actually had personal experience with a dildo, but she knew it was meant to be stuck up the cunt. And Victoria had specified a big one.
The idea made her go cold with fear. How cruel were they going to be to her? Why hadn't she just cooperated when they wanted Hugh to eat her cunt? At least that wouldn't have hurt her.
George moved one of the spotlights over to the foot of the bed and aimed it at Pamela. He seemed so objective about the entire thing, as though it were nothing more than a routine job for him. Why was he so jaded? Had he helped them do things like this to other "captive" girls? The filming of her degradation made the situation seem even more gruesome and inhuman.
She recalled the photograph they'd taken of her sucking on Hugh's prick. What had they done with that? If they were using the picture and movie for blackmail, it certainly was a bizarre way of going about it.
What would people she knew think of her if they saw the film of her eating a woman's cunt? Even if she could prove she'd been kidnapped, how could she convince anyone that she hadn't wanted to make the films? How embarrassing it would be to explain how they'd managed to coerce her into doing it.
These horrible thoughts swirled feverishly in her brain; she felt trapped in a nightmare from which she could not awaken. She wondered if she were going crazy.
"Have you ever masturbated with a dildo?" Dolly's voice startled her.
Pamela did not open her eyes. "No."
"I was going to have Hugh give her a good workout," Victoria told her sister.
"I think we should just have her masturbate," Dolly said. "That will be much more authentic. Besides, we already took a picture of her with Hugh."
"What do you think, Pamela?" Victoria heckled. "Would you rather have Hugh shove it up your cunthole? Or would you enjoy doing it yourself?"
"Let me do it!" It was Hugh's booming baritone.
Pamela's eyelids fluttered open to see him standing in the doorway with a foot-long purple phallus of hard rubber in his hand. It was long enough to kill her.
"What do you say, Pamela?" Victoria asked again.
"I ... I'd rather do it myself," she faltered.
A look of disappointment shadowed Hugh's dark features. "Aw, be a sport," he pleaded. "I'll give it to you the right way."
"She wants to have the honor herself," Victoria said tersely. "So let her have the dildo and you can watch with us. If she doesn't seem to be having enough fun with it alone, then you can get down there and help her. Is the camera ready, George?"
"Been ready to roll for five minutes," he said.
Hugh tossed the dildo onto the mattress beside Pamela and sat down on the edge of the table. "This better be good, baby."
"Get to it, sweetie," Victoria called to her. "And if you don't want Hugh down there to help you out, you best put a lot of wiggle and squirm into it."
Pamela gingerly picked up the heavy phallus-it was molded into the shape of an erect cock, including latex plastic veins, glans, even a puffy-lipped meatus-but she'd never seen a prick of such prodigious dimensions. Even Hugh's tool, which was the biggest cock she'd ever seen, was a good three inches shorter.
"We can't wait all day!" Victoria barked at her. "Stick it up your cunt!"
George fell to one knee at the foot of the mattress and pointed the camera lens directly at Pamela's crotch, deftly adjusting his focus.
Pamela eyed him as though he were a creature from another planet. If she didn't feel so threatened by him, she might have laughed. For an instant she recalled how she had once wished she could grow up to be a movie actress, but her dreams of grandeur had never been quite like this.
The camera started whirring.
"Open your legs wider so we can all see that yummy honey-pot of yours," Victoria directed.
Pamela scowled at her, but since the camera was taking in just the lower half of her physique, she knew her expression would not be evident in the film. She wished there were some way she could signal her unwillingness to make the movie so the film itself would be useless.
Victoria took an aggressive step closer and Pamela quit stalling. She stretched her legs as wide as she could get them, feeling her cunt gape open like a dark tunnel into the center of her being. The dildo was almost two inches in diameter-she was grateful now that her pussy had gotten so wet. Her fingers tightened around the plastic instrument so hard that her knuckles went white.
She knew she'd have to put on a good performance to prevent Hugh from working on her . . . Unless, of course, Victoria planned to do that anyway, regardless how much body English she put into it. She'd come to the conclusion she couldn't trust them.
She touched the head of the dark-purple dildo to her cuntlips. It felt cold. She couldn't imagine any woman employing such a horrible device of her own volition. It seemed such a brutal method for masturbating.
She swabbed the tip of the dildo up and down over her pussylips to moisten it so it wouldn't damage her tender, inner tissues when she inserted it. When it seemed sufficiently coated with her natural lubricant, she rested it at the portals of her twat.
Victoria was self-appointed director of the scene, however, and she had more creative things in mind. "Pull it out of your cunt," she intervened, "and lick it off."
Pamela froze with the head of the dildo still poised at the entrance of her slash.
"And tilt your head up so the camera can get a good angle," Victoria went on. "Act like it's a cock you're sucking, and get a taste of your own cuntjuice."
Repugnant as the idea seemed, Pamela was relieved to be given momentary respite from the ordinary application of the dildo. She lifted the salami-shaped object to the level of her trembling tits, turning the glans to her face as she leaned up to look at the camera. The head of the dildo was shiny with her sap, emanating the scent of her cunt.
"Now lap it up like a lollypop," Victoria told her.
Pamela's tongue curled out from her mouth timidly as she brought the obscene joint closer to her lips. She gave a token lick to its tip, tasting her salty ooze. She felt sick: even though she'd just finished doing far more than this when she ate Victoria's wet pussy, the idea of drinking her own cream made her want to retch. Then Pam saw Victoria glaring at her as if she were ready to pounce on the girl. Her fear gave her incentive to lap more lavishly at the purple stalk. She swallowed some of the sap, finding it not as disagreeable as she'd anticipated.
"That's the girl," Victoria approved. "Now stick the whole thing into your mouth and suck on it."
She puckered up her lips in an oval and complied with the command. If the circumference of the purple prick were any larger, she wouldn't have been able to get it into her mouth. It reminded her of the cock she'd once seen on a zebra at the zoo.
Relaxing her lips around it, she engulfed the simulated coronal ridge. Her slime mixed with the saliva in her mouth and ran down her throat.
"Fuck it in and out of your mouth," Victoria said. "And look right into the camera." As she gave the directions, Victoria sauntered around to the foot of the mattress behind George, squatting down on her haunches so she could view the scene as the camera was picking it up.
Pamela obediently pumped the dildo in and out, unable to get more than a couple of inches of the shaft inside her mouth without gagging, her eyes wide open and staring blankly into the Cyclops like eye of the camera.
"Do you have her cunt in the picture?" Victoria asked George.
"I've got her whole bod," he replied. "Do you want me to zoom in on just the mouth action?"
"No, not yet." Victoria stood up behind George. "Rub your cunt with one hand while you suck the dildo," she said to Pamela.
Guilty as she felt about it, her cunt was aching for attention and Pamela was almost glad Victoria had told her to do it. She immediately slid a hand down across her warm belly and stretched her fingers into her woolly pubes, trying to pretend she was in private so her shame would not interfere with satisfying her physical needs. She began stroking her glistening cuntlips, grinding one knuckle against the base of her clitoris.
"Fingerfuck yourself," Victoria said.
Pamela slid a finger into her damp fissure and jacked it in and out in the same rhythmic tempo she was sucking the dildo. The artificial cock didn't taste of her secretions any more, just of smooth rubber.
"Now get a close-up of her cunt," Victoria said.
He aimed the camera downward and gave a twist to the lens.
Pamela was energetically working her finger in and out of her greedy hole, her hips now undulating uncontrollably as she strained towards orgasm.
"Okay," Victoria cut in. "Now bring the camera up and get a close-up of her mouth sucking on the dildo."
George aimed the camera at Pamela's face, giving a reverse twist to the lens.
"Turn your head to the side more," Victoria cued Pamela. "And let's see you gobble up a bit more of the dildo."
Pamela attempted to oblige, nearly choking herself as the hard rubber threatened to invade her throat.
"Now take it all the way out of your mouth," Victoria said. "And hold it right in front of your face."
Pamela gratefully withdrew the dildo, her jaw aching from the exertion. She stared at the surreal tool, her face contorted in genuine lust-lust derived from her own hand, still vigorously massaging her cunt.
"Spit on it," Victoria said.
Before, she would have been more than happy to demonstrate such a sign of contempt for the ugly rod, but now her own approaching orgasm made it difficult to concentrate on Victoria's arbitrary commands. She did as best she could to spray a film of her saliva at the bulbous head of the tool. Her saliva dribbled down the thick rod, looking quite much like frothy white semen.
"Now you may stick it into your cunt," Victoria announced, as though granting a privilege.
Pamela was too far gone to procrastinate this time. What she really craved was a nice, stiff, male prick. But, in lieu of that, she accepted the substitute. She eased the hard, monstrous head into her cuntmouth and slowly pushed it against her resisting tissues. Her face reddened and her body poured sweat as she jammed the rigid pole past the tight ring of her vaginal muscles.
"Push it up farther," Victoria said. "Get the whole thing inside you."
Pamela had to twist and turn the thick, pestle to force it into her snug canal. Her membranes cried out in protest as they were stuffed beyond natural limits, but the full feeling shortly gave way to pleasure, and her juices flowed more copiously to accommodate the unexpected intruder. She managed to corkscrew nearly eight inches of the prick into her before she reached a definite dead end.
"That's all I can do," she whined.
"Okay," Victoria relented. "Now fuck yourself with it. Make yourself come."
Afraid that Victoria might renege on that command, Pamela went at the dildo with a frenzy, pumping the rubber stalk in and out her pussy like a woman possessed, her entire body writhing and jerking as she tried to consummate the terrible desire boiling in her blood. She was all but oblivious to the loud footsteps approaching the mattress, but she let go of the dildo when she felt a sharp pinch on her nipple.
A short stocky man of about thirty was lecherously grinning down at her. His suit was fashionably mod and expensive, his hair to his shoulders, his thin-lipped smile sardonic.
"Is this the kid?" he asked the others, straightening up from the mattress.
"That's her," Dolly answered him. "Roster's only daughter. Sweet sixteen. Isn't she cute?"
The stranger waved a hand at the camera. "Cut, cut!" he told George. The camera stopped whirring. "I'll trust you to splice me out of the picture. Much as I'd like to share the spotlight with the leading lady, I have my reputation to uphold." With this he gave a raucous laugh.
Pamela didn't see what was so funny. She'd released the giant dildo, but it was still firmly implanted deep in her raging cunt, and she didn't know whether to pull it out or to continue masturbating with it.
"I thought you didn't believe in censorship, Lazner," Hugh put in.
The man turned towards Hugh, who was sitting beside Dolly on the table, a bursting hard-on lancing up from his dark groin. "Why aren't you doing your pushups on the bed with the chick?" Lazner asked him. "It's not very gentlemanlike to let her go at it solo."
Hugh showed his teeth in a smile that was not altogether friendly. "It wasn't my idea to sit it out," he said.
"I told him to stay out of it," Victoria said.
Lazner shook his head. "I want him in it. That's what I'm paying him for. If anything will get to Roster, it'll be seeing a black stud fucking his little angel, I sort of like that dildo idea, though. Why don't we have her jack off with the plunger there while she sucks off Hugh?"
Victoria frowned. "We've already got a photo of her giving head to Hugh. I thought we could get a little variety."
Lazner put his hand to his square chin thoughtfully. He gazed down at Pamela, who lay in suspended animation, her trim young legs wide apart, the base of the dildo visibly protruding from he. pink twat. "Okay, okay," he said. "We'll do something with variety." He motioned to Hugh. "Get down on your knees at the head of the bed," he told him. "Point your dingus at her kisser . . about six inches away from her."
With a perplexed look, Hugh clambered off the table and situated himself as Lazner suggested.
"Now you jerk yourself off," Lazner went on. "And shoot your jism right in her pretty little face."
Hugh was aiming his long, brown spike directly at Pamela's mouth. He shook his head emphatically. "Hey, man," he told Lazner in an affronted tone, "I don't beat my meat in front of no white dude."
Lazner casualty undid the button on his coat, pulling it back to expose the wide, black belt of a shoulder holster. He settled his hands on his hips, eyeing Hugh coldly. "What did you say?"
Hugh glanced at the holster, then back at Pamela. "I said, this girl sure turns me on. I think I might just cream my spunk over her face."
Lazner stepped back out of camera range. "Roll 'em," he exclaimed. He turned to Victoria and added in an undertone, "We got a shipment coming in about a half-hour from now. Get this flick over with. We're going to use this room for storage."
Victoria nodded. "We'll be done in a flash," she said. "Poor Pamela's just dying to get her rocks off. Why don't you stay and watch?"
He was already heading for the door. "Business," he replied. "But I want to see the film before you send it off."
Pamela shuddered. They were going to send the film to her father. Had she been less delirious with sexual frustration, and had she not had the encumbering dildo stuck up her cunt, she might have lunged at the camera in an attempt to destroy it. But she couldn't summon the energy to do it. Even the thought of her father seemed of secondary importance. She vaguely wondered who Lazner was, and why the others seemed to be submissive to him. She'd gotten a glimpse of the holster and realized he was carrying a gun. Perhaps he was a gangster that had once been sent to prison by her father, and now he wanted revenge.
She had no time to consider that implication, for Victoria was already in control again, eager to complete the film.
"Come on!" Victoria yelled at them. "Look alive, Hugh. Both of you have to come within the next few minutes."
George, who'd ignored Lazner's direction to resume filming, now started up the camera.
Hugh pistoned his fist around his jutting prick, ogling Pamela with lust-glazed eyes as she took up where she'd left off with the dildo. It was obvious from the look on his face that he wished he could trade places with the rubber cock.
Pamela wanted to steer her eyes away from him, but it was impossible to disregard the thrusting, chocolate-toned prick that was so close to her face. She stole wistful glances at it, sharing his desire to put a flesh and blood penis where the spurious rubber hose now was.
"Get ready, baby," Hugh punted at her. "Here it comes!" He threw back his head, his neck muscles and shoulders bulging, his body quaking as he frantically jerked his cockshaft.
Pamela closed her eyes.
"And open your mouth, sweetie!" Victoria added.
Her lips parted in time to catch the first shot of his warm jism. It splashed like a thin trail of suds against her lower lip and chin. She opened her mouth wider of her own volition, and the second load geysered right into the wet, red target.
She swallowed hastily and opened her mouth again like a baby bird pleading for food. This time she wasn't rewarded with a mouthful of his cream, however-he hit her square on one of her taut, cherry like nipples. He emptied the rest of his load there, like a whip cream dispenser shooting at a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Then he surprised her by leaning forward and insinuating the fatty head of his cock right between her waiting, open lips.
"Suck up the last drops," he growled.
She gave a suck and felt the first wave of her own orgasm explode within her raging snatch. She bucked her hips, shoved the dildo up farther than she'd dared do before and exploded again and again, her mouth tugging at the faltering prick, sucking with the force of her own orgasms.
Pulling the dildo almost free of her vibrating twat, she heaved it in one long last time, savoring the exquisite ripplings of her interior muscles as the massive stick plowed cruelly into her opening. She shrieked with pleasure, tears of rapturous satisfaction pouring down her cheeks. She didn't remove the dildo from her cunt as she finally went limp with exhaustion, her lips falling open to release Hugh's spent prick.
The camera fell silent. "Perfect finale!" whooped George.
Victoria went down on her knees and fished the long, erotic implement from the hot depths of Pamela's surrendered cunt. "Every time I use this on myself from now on," she murmured, "I'll get a special charge out of remembering the beautiful little snatch I once saw it satisfy."
Pamela turned her head to peer at Victoria. To her horror, the statuesque woman was licking the purple phallus as if it were an all-day sucker.
Chapter Seven
"Mr. Roster?" Della looked across the desk at him inquisitively, her pen poised above her steno pad, sitting in the straight back office chair as she took dictation. "Is there more to the letter, Chuck?"
He was staring off into space but snapped out of it at her question. "Oh . . . let's see . . ." His angular features contorted as he tried to concentrate. It was useless. His mind was light years away from his work. He sank back in his leather-padded chair and cast an apologetic look to his secretary. "Della, never mind the letter. You may as well cancel the rest of my afternoon appointments for today. I'm under too much strain to get anything done here."
Della uncrossed her long, willowy legs, her miniskirt sliding up so high the darkened tops of her nylons were attractively visible. She closed her notebook on her lap. "Your daughter?"
Roster nodded. "Haven't had any word from her yet. If this sudden disappearance weren't so out of character for her, I might be able to convince myself nothing has happened to her . . ."
Her prominent breasts pushed against her white silk blouse as Della leaned forward in the chair. "You don't suppose she might be in any real trouble, do you?"
Roster stood abruptly and turned to the picture window behind him, adjusting the Venetian blinds to peer down at the congested street below. The west wing of the building was within his view and he could see a short-skirted woman climbing the glass-enclosed stairway, her ass bouncing as she mounted the stairs. Her twitching tail reminded him of Della.
"I've tried to avoid that conclusion," he said aloud, turning away from the panorama outside the window. "But Pamela's never done anything like this before. And that picture that came yesterday-my daughter's too young to use that kind of a shock tactic. I'm afraid somebody is using her to get to me. I think Pamela may have been kidnapped."
"What does your wife think?" Della asked.
He threw up his arms. "Christ, I didn't show her that photo. She's almost hysterical as it is. I just can't figure it. If somebody's trying to wheedle money from me, why not a ransom note instead of the dirty picture? Trouble is, even if they did want money, I'm in debt up to my ears,"
Della chewed on the end of her pen nervously. The gesture seemed quite symbolic; Roster wondered if she was aware how suggestively lewd it looked. "It certainly doesn't make a lot of sense," she agreed.
He shook his head woefully. "My guess is that Pamela's being victimized by a crazy pervert. But what motive could anyone have in kidnapping her and then threatening me with a scandal? That's the only way I read that photograph. It may not be my money that's at stake. If that picture was made public, it could be political death to me. I'd never have a chance at running for D.A. next year. Still, I'm only the Assistant D.A. now. I haven't got any weight to swing around, so why pick on the low man on the totem pole?"
"I wish there was some way I could help," Della said. "Have you tried calling Pamela's friends to get some idea where she was last seen?"
His lips tightened, "My wife's in charge of that. Actually, I'd notify the police if I were positive Pamela hasn't simply run away from home. We haven't been seeing eye to eye for the past year or so. She's been pestering me to be allowed to date men, guys nearly twice her age. Of course I wouldn't hear of it, but maybe this is her way of rebelling. She knows I can't have publicity about something like this,"
He was interrupted by the ringing of one of his three desk phones. Della jumped up to answer the phone which was on the opposite side of his desk, but he intercepted her and lifted the receiver brusquely.
"Charles Roster, Assistant District Attorney." He grimaced as he listened to the voice on the line. Della smiled sympathetically, her seductive, pink tongue darting out to moisten the sensual arc of her red lips. Even a blind man could have interpreted her body language.
"Yes, I'll be there," Roster said into the receiver. "Right. One-thirty." He dropped the phone back into the cradle with a heavy sigh. "So much for my hopes of taking the day off early," he informed Della. "That was the D.A.'s office. The preliminary hearing on the Manning case was rescheduled for this afternoon and Kruthers wants me to be there."
"Manning? That's the murder trial, isn't it?"
He nodded. "It's the last thing I want to be concerned with at the moment . . ," He sank back into his chair with a defeated expression. "Christ, I could use a two-week vacation."
Della stood and came around to the side of his chair, resting her hands on his shoulders with maternal tenderness. "Maybe I could do something to take your mind off your problems."
He cocked his head at her, wondering what she had done to cultivate such a perfectly one-track mind. "I think I've heard that line before," he said, grinning.
Her fingers kneaded into his shoulders and stiff neck muscles. "I was thinking of a massage," she said sharply, though he could detect a teasing note in her voice. "You seem so tense, I thought you might stretch out on the couch and let me relax you. I'm an excellent masseuse, you know."
He laughed despite himself. "Just thinking about your talents in that area is giving me a distinct cramp in one region of my anatomy," he kidded her.
Her eyes turned to his crotch. "I can relax all your muscles," she asserted.
He was skeptical. "I'm not up to fucking you, Della."
She bent down and kissed his cheek. "Whatever you're up to," she whispered, "I can offer my assistance."
"I don't need a massage, Della," he said flatly.
"Maybe a small one?" she persisted. "A French one?"
He stared at her without answering and she translated his silence as consent. She slid down to her knees before his chair, her fingers flying automatically to unfasten his belt.
He guessed she had no concept of the wrong time and place. For that matter, her nymphomaniac proclivities were why he spent so much of his time in the office, but sometimes her libido got on his nerves. He sat inert and passive, watching in lethargic curiosity as she unzipped his fly to fish out his limp dick.
"Poor thing," she cooed, rubbing the flaccid hose of flesh against her cheeks. "It's so sad it can't even get hard." She petted the drooping, pink cockhead with her forefinger, talking directly to the eye slit at the head as if his cock were a separate entity from himself. "Della will make it all better for you, poor thing."
Roster witnessed this intimate spectacle with a flagging interest bordering on contempt. He found nothing erotic in having Della baby-talk to his penis. Her moronic behavior had, in fact, the opposite effect, dousing what small embers of desire he'd begun to feel. He wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave him alone, but he felt too enervated to resist.
Not glancing up at Roster, Della had no inkling of his low opinion of her behavior. She concentrated her full attention on his unresponsive cock, massaging the limber roll of manmeat with the devotion of a Red Cross medic delivering emergency first aid to an unconscious victim. She was determined to bring the cock to life and give it the thrill of an orgasm.. It was her belief that sex could solve any problem, and in her personal realm of experience, it often did. She knew she owed her present job and the relatively high style of living that went along with it, having previously been a lunch-counter waitress-to her incorrigible sexual appetite.
Roster closed his eyes, but all he could think about was the photograph that had come in the mail the day before. He kept seeing his innocent sixteen-year-old daughter stripped naked before that towering black stud, her small white hands wrapped around the dark chocolate stalk of his enormous cock, her tongue brushing against his shaft. Who'd taken the picture? Friends of Pamela's? What kind of friends? And where? His mind furnished the unseen completion of the tableau in the picture: he envisioned a wild orgy, a room filled with naked, decadent teenagers, probably stoned out of their heads on some illegal drug, fucking and sucking the hell out of each other.
But why had he been sent a picture of it? Was this part of his daughter's revenge and nothing more? Was she so embittered that she would resort to such flagrant, anti-social behavior to get back at him? Roster knew he was a strict father, but certainly he'd done nothing to deserve retribution on this scale. He could hardly imagine his daughter involved in such sordid activities, even if she were more sexually sophisticated than he'd given her credit for. There had to be something more treacherous behind the sending of the photo.
He had the overpowering suspicion that his daughter was not responsible for the photo, that she had been forced to pose for the picture. It even occurred to him that the picture itself was a fake, that it had been somehow retouched so that it only appeared that Pamela had been photographed in such a disgraceful condition. But if that were true, it followed that her life was very much in danger. He didn't want to think about it. He would have preferred any humiliation or insult to that, because the fact remained that he loved his daughter.
Roster straightened up in his seat as he felt a humid pulp engulf the head of his cock. He glanced down to see Della's full lips stretched in a wide O as she seemed to be applying artificial respiration to his still uncooperative organ.
Her mouth's liquid abrasion brought a hardening stir to his cock. He felt the moist edge of her tongue strop his cockhead, her hands still providing support for the semi turgid column of his prick. The fingers of her other hand reached into his shorts to gently play with his balls.
Della had been right; the heat rising in his loins made it difficult for him to worry about other calamities. He leaned forward in the chair so that he could reach down and find the resilient sacks of her breasts. He wished she'd taken off her blouse so he could get a better grip of her velvety flesh and the tempting little nipples that poked into his palms through the gossamer fabric of her clothing.
Her lips stretched thin as she drew the twitching pole deep into her throat. His erection grew more intense under the relentless frictioning and his prick stiffened up until it fit like a sung cork in between her soft lips. Della applied gentle suction to the engorging tool, drawing more vigorously on the bloated cock as every second made it pulse to even greater dimensions.
He watched her cheeks bulge and pock as she sucked at the throbbing bar, her hand still toying with his nuts in an attempt to coax forth his jism. Roster pinched at her nipples and she gurgled excitedly, increasing the pressure on his cock, her head bobbing up and down at his groin.
He could nearly detect the shape of her mouth and every crevice and shimmering contour of her tongue and inner cheeks as she lapped at his prick. The muscles of his groin tensed and he lurched upward toward the inviting cavern of her mouth, cruelly wanting to bury his shaft all the way down her throat.
She pulled her mouth away unexpectedly to appraise the results of her work. "Such a fantastic cockshaft," she cooed. "I'll never get tired of sucking a gorgeous hunk of meat like this."
Roster stared down at the glistening, red, puffy head of his cock. The veins on the shaft stood out in a pulsing purple filigree, his flesh gleaming wet with her generous coating of saliva. "Just keep sucking, baby," he groaned, stabbing his pelvis toward her face with urgency.
She smiled lewdly at him, flashing her fine, pearly white teeth as a warning of her potential power, but softening the threat by running the tip of her tongue along her lips. She teased him with her tongue, lapping up and down the sensitive sides of his shaft until he almost cried out with the agonizing torture of it.
She was in her glory now, knowing she had his full appreciation of her oral expertise. Prolonging his anguish moments longer, she gave his cock a few swift licks and delved between his legs to pull his briefs down far enough so she could mouth his balls, lapping the wrinkled, salmon-hued skin and shivering as she inhaled the musky essence of his masculinity.
His cock jerked spastically with this unbearable titillation, and had she not quickly lifted her lips to his shaft again, he would have shoved his aching rod down her throat by force, appreciation be-damned. Searing bolts of pleasure whizzed through his veins as her slippery, soft mouth closed over his prick, her tongue still fluttering like warm butterfly wings against the tightly stretched skin of his swollen tool.
She moved her head up and down in lush, milking strokes, vacuuming his prong with intensified suction, sending him reeling in ever-increasing throes of excitement. His balls seethed with a heavy accumulation of jism as he strained forward in the chair, rocking his hips to fuck his cock into her mouth.
By this time, Della was undeniably aroused herself, and though she'd been surreptitiously rubbing her own thighs together in an attempt to ease the congestion in her awakening cunt, her body demanded more direct stimulation. She knew that Roster wouldn't fuck her, and, if something weren't done, she'd be too horny to function after she'd sucked him off. There was really no alternative but to attend to her own needs while servicing her boss. She slipped a hand down below the hiked-up hem of her skirt and fingered her cuntmound. The crotch of her panties was moist and warm.
Roster saw the movement of Della's arm as she reached for her pussy, and he noticed she'd begun to jack herself off. The fact served to boost his own lust; he liked the idea that she was turned on by his rutting, erect cock. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as he screwed his cockmeat into her face, his impending climax so near he moaned in anticipation.
Della sucked for all she was worth, at the same time roughing her own red-hot clit to the point of ecstasy. Her orgasm was nearly simultaneous with the spurt of foamy cum that signaled Roster's climax. She felt his cock convulse against the roof of her mouth as he fountained volleys of thick hot cream down her throat.
She drank down every last drop as though her life depended on it, her tongue and lips nursing the tender organ as it deflated to satiated softness.
Wordlessly, she stood up and rearranged her dress as he zipped his fly and buckled himself up. Her smile was sheepish but victorious all the same. They had barely dressed when the ring of the phone shattered their brief moment of euphoria.
Roster took the line himself. "Charles Roster, Assistant- What? Oh, it's you, Julia. What's up?"
He took on a pained expression. "Is this positive? Her girl friend's cousin? Ginny?" There was a few seconds' silence as he listened to his wife's words, then he said, "Okay, Julia. I'll handle this."
When he put down the receiver, Della gave him a questioning look. "Bad news?"
"I don't know," he told her. "That was my wife. She just found out from a friend of my daughter's that Pamela has been having midnight meetings for three months with a guy named Howard Sandin.
"You think she's with him now?"
"I don't know what to think. This Sandin is apparently twice her age-there's no telling what a guy like that might do with a girl as young and naive as Pamela."
"Oh, you use such a double standard with your daughter. Why are you so sure she doesn't like sex? Maybe she's shacking up with this Sandin character. I had a lot of older boy friends when I was her age."
"That doesn't explain that photo," he reminded her.
"Why not? Maybe the black guy is Sandin." She tried to smile nonchalantly. "She sent you a stupid dirty picture of her and her black boy friend to shock you. Just a stupid kid's stunt."
"I can't imagine it," he said bluntly.
She gave a small laugh. "Chuck, honey, did anyone ever tell you that you have a poverty-stricken imagination?"
Chapter Eight
The tall blonde stood in the center of the living room, slightly tipsy from the third martini she'd just downed. Smiling at the man watching her from the sofa, she reached for the back zipper on her yellow pantsuit. With a fluid gesture she let the garment drop in a soft heap at her ankles.
"Like what you see, Mr. Sandin?" she murmured seductively.
Howard Sandin nodded affirmatively, gulping down the contents of his cocktail glass. "But I want to see a lot more," he hastened to reply.
She spilled out a throaty laugh, standing there with her hands on her hips, her pear-sized breasts still encased in a flesh-toned mesh bra. The matching panties gave her crotch a lurid, forbidden look, her woolly blonde pussyhair twining through the sleazy fabric like seaweed caught in a fishnet. Sandin couldn't help but want to spear his cockmeat into the hidden, murky depths of her twat. From experience he'd discovered that the raunchier the chick looked, the wilder she came across in bed.
The blonde seemed to read his thoughts as she arched her chest at him and uttered a sultry growl, nimbly unhooking her bra. Her small but perfectly formed tits unabashedly sprang forth, and Sandin's mouth watered at the prospect of tasting those sumptuous, ripe fruits.
She kicked the pantsuit aside and swiveled to treat him to a view of her out-thrust buttocks as she stripped down her panties. The white moons of her asscheeks quivered invitingly as she stepped free of the briefs and slowly stood again to eye him over her shoulder.
"Turn around, Judy," he commanded.
She teasingly did so, displaying the crinkly flaxen evidence that her pussyhair was indeed not seaweed, but a tempting bed of angel's hair. She moved to the sofa at his beckoning, rocking her hips to provide maximum, titillating effect of her lush, naked body. She stopped a foot short of him and tilted up her cunt in a challenging posture.
Sandin, never being one to back down from a dare, reached out to her and, taking hold of her pliant buttocks, he pulled her flesh to his lips. She surprised him by pushing her cunt right into his face. He hadn't intended to be so brash, but with a girl like her, inhibitions were as old-fashioned as chastity belts. When she wanted to fuck, she didn't waste time beating around the bush.
Sandin stuck his tongue into the sweet folds of her pussy and she groaned, shaking her snatch against his mouth. "Lover, let's go to your bedroom before I get so excited I can't stand up," she breathed.
The hard-on that was practically ripping out the seams of his trousers made him more than willing to oblige her. He stood up, and, taking a plush handful of one of her firm asscheeks, guided her to the bedroom down the hall of his apartment. When they got to the door, the girl ran ahead of him to fling herself down on his bed.
She stretched out on the bedspread, undulating like a cat in heat. "God, I just love velvet bedspreads," she purred.
"It's velveteen," he corrected, hurriedly shucking off his clothes to join her.
She rolled over on her side to embrace him as he climbed, nude, upon the bed to her. They kissed, pressing their bodies together, his stiff cock prodding into the warm softness of her belly, her gently billowing tits rubbing his chest. She threw a leg over his thigh to increase the friction of her pelvis against his, but Sandin had better ideas. Without warning, he turned over on his back, pulling her along with him.
She giggled, straddling him on all fours to adjust to the new position. Sandin reached for her jiggling tits and tenderly massaged them.
"Suck my nipples," she suggested. "I like to have my nipples sucked when I'm bending over like this. It makes my tits seem bigger and bouncier."
"Sure," he agreed, sliding downward to get his mouth aligned beneath one of the dangling, fleshy globes. He sucked in the spongy pink tip as she wriggled her damp cunt against the head of his jerking prick. He could feel the springy nipple lengthening under the exertion of his lips, and he scooped up her other breast and rolled the doughy nipple there between his thumb and forefinger until it, too, stood out in bold relief.
Judy's cunt was dribbling oily sap onto his aching prick as she molded her body against his. He wanted to pitch her over and immediately fuck her, but she anticipated his wishes by taking matters into her own hands, so to speak, and quickly manipulated the pudgy cockhead so that it lodged at her dewy cuntal opening.
"I like to be on top when I ball," she explained in ragged breaths. "I guess I'm just the aggressive type."
He didn't care what type she was, as long as she kept up the invigorating things she was doing to his cock. He heaved up his crotch to her as she squatted over his tool, lowering her warm, wet tissues down over the rod as it disappeared, inch by inch, into her enveloping cuntmouth. Sandin's senses skyrocketed as the drooling sleeve of flesh squeezed tight around his prick.
Her breasts swayed provocatively over his ribcage, begging to be touched and massaged. He clutched at them, rolling them mindlessly against her chest as she began to slide up and down on the pole of his cock in a slow, smooth rhythm.
She was breathing faster, which made her tits seem to swell and push against his fondling palms
She was crouched over him on all fours, her head held high so that the tendons of her neck stood out, straining, her eyes glazed and mouth sensuously open, little cries of satisfaction escaping her throat.
He left her breasts and pulled her weight full upon him, thrilling in the warm, perspiring mass of her flesh crushed to his. His hands crept to her splayed buttocks where he took possession of each asscheek and exerted pressure to control her movements. She kicked her legs like a swimmer paddling across an eddying pool, her cuntal chasm sucking madly at the taut shaft of his prick.
She licked his earlobe, snaked her tongue like a wet, electrifying probe into his ear. He shuddered, his cock surging within the deep marsh of her snatch. Her flailing legs settled down to hug at his bony hips and give her increased leverage as she pumped furiously up and down on his cock.
He twisted his head and met her mouth with his, their lips meeting in a passionate, inflaming kiss. His tongue sank into her mouth in imitation of his cock slipping in and out of the sweltering well of her cunt, doubling his pleasure. He humped up at her, trying to bore himself as far as possible into her torturously wonderful canal.
"Oh, oh, that feels g-great!" she wailed. "You've got such a long cock, I can feel it halfway up to my tummy!" She rotated her hips ardently to emphasize the statement. She turned her face sideways, her breath deflecting hotly on his shoulder, her hands clawing at the sheets. She was riding him deliriously, her slit making hot liquid traction against his turgid tool.
Sandin marveled at the way her strong cuntmuscles gripped at his prick, pulling at his meat as if to devour him. He stroked her buttocks and gave them encouraging tugs to assist her increasingly feverish movement. His fingers slipped accidentally to the cleft between her asscheeks, and he trailed his index finger down the sweaty indentation until he found the puckered sphincter of her anus.
She jumped half off his cock as his finger made a sudden, piercing jab into her unprotected asshole, but after the first shock, she seemed not to mind the added intrusion. On the contrary, she enjoyed the penetration and squirmed her ass at his hand to derive the fullest benefits of the stimulation.
"That's the way!" she cried. "Screw my pussy with your hard cock and fingerfuck my asshole! If I had another cock to suck on right now, I'd be all filled up!"
"You just may get your wish," Sandin grunted, ramming her viciously, "as soon as Jake gets here . . ."
Judy eased up on her pelvic action. "What? Who the hell is Jake?"
Sandin grinned roguishly up as the shock registered on her face. "Jake and Lisa . . ." he said, still moving his prick and finger into the tightly contracted muscles of her cunt and anus. "I forgot to tell you ... I invited some friends over this afternoon. You'll like both of them. They're your kind of folks, baby."
She stopped moving altogether. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning Jake's got a sexual appetite equal to mine."
"And what about Lisa?"
Sandin managed to push his index finger into her asshole up to the second knuckle. "Lisa?" he said, wiggling his finger around, watching Judy's eyes bug out. "Lisa's got tits that make you look like you're still in a training bra."
"I hope you don't mean that as an insult," she said, though her face was contorted with pleasure.
Throwing his head askew, he speared out his tongue to wet one of her nipples. "I mean it as a promise of good things to come," he said, putting emphasis on the last word of the pun. "You know I dig you, baby." He torqued his hips.
This time she went along for the ride. "Just making sure," she said, but after less than a minute of heavy humping, she stopped again.
"What's wrong?" he asked her
"Will you really both fuck me at the same time?" she wanted to know. "Were you being serious?"
He snickered. "Oh, baby, you better believe it.
In fact, all three of us are going to fuck you at the same time. Lisa's bisexual. She'll tonguefuck your asshole or any other hole you have available."
A film of pure lust filtered into Judy's eyes. "Wow! I never did that before!"
Sandin rotated his hips. "C'mon, baby. You know I wouldn't invite anybody over if they weren't going to be fun. You have to learn to trust my judgment. I've never done you wrong, have I?" He skewered her cunt relentlessly. "Just relax and enjoy it, baby." He pulled his sticky finger out of her asshole.
She bounced on his huge prick, panting like a rabid wildcat. She wasn't relaxing, but she was obviously enjoying it.
Sandin just lay there, watching her with an aloof coolness, feeling her cunt sucking at his tingling hot cock, her sleek belly slapping against his, her beautifully rounded breasts bounding and rebounding against the taut muscles of his hairy chest. Judy was one of the horniest bitches he'd ever met, and she could fuck like all hell breaking loose when she had the elbow room.
"Go to it baby!" he howled.
"I love your prick!" she shouted, cramming her cunt down to his balls then sliding back up his greased pole. "It's so long and thick it just stuffs me to the brim!"
Sandin knew he had no more or less than the standard six inches of manmeat but he also knew a guy had to know how to use it right.
"I'm going to come!" she cried.
He slapped his hands onto the plump cheeks of her vibrating, billowy ass and slammed his prick into her with the speed and force of a jackhammer.
She moaned like a banshee. "I'm . . . making it! Goddamn! I'm , . . coming!!"
He didn't need her to reel off a description of the transaction: the way her muscles were grabbing at his dong as if to rip it off at the roots told him everything he wanted to know. "That's all right, baby. My neighbors will be happy to hear it."
She collapsed on top of him in a heaving, sweaty heap. "Sorry I made so much noise," she panted.
"Now it's my turn to get the upper hand," he asserted, flopping her over onto her back, rolling with her to keep his prick locked inside her steamy cache.
His balls ready to burst like water balloons, he started fucking her furiously. She didn't move with him at all, but just lay there in a daze, panting from her own orgasmic finish, her legs spread open submissively as he plowed into her pussy. He liked to take a woman like that once in a while-just tear into her like a rutting buck while she lay helplessly pinned to the bed. It reminded him of a young whore he'd once banged as a teenager. Eighteen guys had put up two bucks each for the experience. Howard was number seventeen, and the chick had behaved in much the same way as Judy was now acting. The thought of it still raised the temperature of his blood.
He felt a spasm deep in his crotch and a hot wad of his spunk splashed out the end of his cock. He belted the inner walls of her snatch with another wad, then another, until his body went limp on top of her. his prick following suit shortly after.
"We've hardly started the party," he announced after he'd caught his breath. "Wait till Jake and Lisa get here!"
Della applied a touch of eyeliner to her upper lids, utilizing the mirror on the back of the sun visor in Roster's Ford. She was waiting for him outside the downtown precinct house, where he was checking the police records on Howard Sandin. She was worried for Roster. Though she dared not say it, she knew both his career and his future were at stake.
She touched some perfume behind each ear, pressed some into the warm cleavage between her breasts, and spread a droplet into the hot hollows of her groin. She was barely pulling her hand out from under her skirt when Roster's door clicked open and he climbed into his seat.
He appeared worried, pale, staring out into the horizon without making a move to start the car.
"Does he have a police record?" she asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
He shook his head. "No."
"Chuck, I can tell something's wrong. What is it?"
He turned to her with an odd look. "It's nothing wrong. It's just that, well, Howard Sandin is a mortician,"
She regarded him incredulously. "But... that doesn't mean anything," she finally said. "What else did you find out about him?"
Roster turned over the engine, pulling onto the street. "I found out he only lives a few blocks from here," he answered, "And that this is his day off. We're going there right now to question him. I also discovered he has a perfect alibi for Saturday night and Sunday morning-which was when Pamela disappeared."
Della placed a hand reassuringly on Roster's leg, gliding it up slowly toward his crotch. "Whatever happens, Chuck, I love you," she said. "What's Sandin's alibi?"
"His car was stolen Saturday night," he said. "He was found unconscious by the night watchman at his hotel about midnight, was taken to the hospital, released after a few hours for police interrogation, then spent half the morning at the station. They found his car a few miles away late Sunday evening. He hadn't been robbed. Nothing was stolen within the car itself."
"Who knocked him out and made off with the car?" Della inquired.
"Apparently two women coerced him into the hotel garage on the pretext of taking them to their car to change a flat. He figures they stole the car. The police aren't looking for the women because as soon as the car was located, Sandin dropped charges. The captain said he doubted they would have found the women anyway. There weren't many clues and Sandin wasn't too anxious to talk about them, though he insisted they were strangers."
Roster swung his car into the visitors' parking lot. "This is the place," he said. "I want you to come with me, Della. I'll do the talking. I just want some moral support."
They took the elevator to the sixth floor and walked down the hall. Roster depressed the buzzer.
"That must be Jake and Lisa," Sandin said to Judy.
They were sitting on Sandin's sofa again-both stark naked, each with a full tumbler of Scotch in hand.
"Get down on the floor," Sandin whispered with sudden inspiration.
Judy gave him an inquisitive look. "Why?"
"I want to play a practical joke on of Jake. I told him I've been trying a lot of new positions. Just get down there. Hurry!"
"What did you ever do for me?" she balked, making no effort to leave the sofa.
"I bought you a chinchilla stole for Christmas, in case you've forgotten," he told her, "And I plan to buy you those emerald earrings you liked in Tiffany's."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
The door buzzed again.
"Really. Now get down there fast!"
She scooted down to the rug in front of him. "What are you going to do?" she hissed.
"Just spread those lovely legs, baby," he replied. As soon as she did so, he jammed his big toe into her cunt.
She giggled.
"Come on in!" Sandin yelled at the door. "It's not locked!"
The silly grin on his face dissolved when a man and woman he'd never seen before marched into his living room. Sandin popped his wet toe out of Judy's snatch. He cleared his throat. "Um . . . it's not Jake and Lisa," he mumbled.
Judy immediately got to her feet, looked around at the three mutually startled faces in the room, blushed, and rushed to the bedroom.
Sandin grabbed his robe which was draped over the back of the sofa.
Roster pulled his wallet from his breast pocket and flashed his I.D. "I'm Charles Roster," he said. "Assistant District Attorney for the State"
"What!" Sandin jumped from the seat, whipping the silk waist sash around to tie up his robe. "Do you have a search warrant?"
"I have no desire to search your house," Roster said. "I just want to ask you some questions."
"I know my rights," Sandin said. "What charges do you have against me? I'm not saying anything till I see my lawyer. I get two calls."
"You're not under arrest," Roster said coldly. "I'm not a policeman. I wanted to talk to you about your stolen car."
"I got that back."
"I know that. But I'm interested in finding out who stole it."
Sandin was eyeing Della now, noting the fine, full spheres of her braless breasts. "I already told them I didn't want to press charges," he said. "Forget it." It seemed to him that Della was eyeing him in return. He wondered if she'd noticed his well-hung cock when she'd come in.
"Look, Mr. Sandin," Roster said with exasperation. "Let me put it to you point blank. On Saturday night you were supposed to be picking up a date-Pamela Roster-over on Tacoma Street. She, by the way, is sixteen years old."
"She said she was eighteen!"
"My conjecture, Mr. Sandin," Roster continued, "is that Pamela Roster was the woman who stole your car-and that you dropped charges because you didn't want the authorities to know you were possibly guilty of statutory rape."
"Bullshit!" Sandin roared. "I never even saw Pam Saturday night! Two broads knocked me over the head and took my car! I never made it to Pamela's house! Jesus Christ! What the hell do you want to pin this rap on Pamela for? She's a good kid. She's innocent. I don't even think she knows how to drive . And she did swear to me that she was eighteen!"
"Why are you so anxious not to press charges?" Roster asked him
"Why should I? It was just a couple of dumb chicks out on a lark. So they took me for a ride. I was a fool. Anyway, I got enough out of them"
"What do you mean by that crack?" Roster interrupted.
Sandin sank down on the couch with an air of boredom. "I mean sex," he bluntly retorted. "And they were definitely not jailbait. 1 doesn't hold any grudges against. Well, I do hold a grudge against one of them, but I forgive and forget."
Roster and Della exchanged grim glances. To Sandin, Roster asked, "What's the grudge?"
"They told me if I changed their flat, they would both, well, service me, if you know what I mean." He smiled at Delia. "As it was, I really only got a shot at one of them. You see, they handed me this story about living downstairs in this hotel-room five-thirteen."
"Who lives in five-thirteen?" Roster asked.
Sandin shook his head. "Nobody. The manager's superstitious. No thirteen's in the building. So I lost out on the brunette."
"Describe the women," Roster said.
"Look, I've been through all of this crap already, so if you don't mind-
"I do mind," Roster cut in. "And if you don't want to go through a lot more explanation about a certain sixteen-year-old girl friend of yours, you'll cooperate with me."
Della had seated herself in an armchair near the door. She noticed Sandin's attentive stare at her ample breasts and she yanked her wool coat over her bosom to obstruct the salacious view.
Sandin's face fell with disappointment. "The chicks told me they were sisters," he said to Roster. "They looked so much alike, I think they were leveling with me on that. Average height, medium weight-both of them top heavy, if you know what I mean-one blonde, one brunette, both of them knockouts. Traffic-stoppers, if you know what I-
"I get the picture, Sandin," Roster interjected brusquely. "Any distinguishing characteristics? Scars? Birthmarks?"
Sandin shrugged. "Nope. Well, yeah, now that you mention it. The one I'm holding my grudge against-the brunette-had a small tattoo of a heart, sort of a pinkish-purple color, on her, well, it was on her .. . you know . .."
"I don't know, Sandin," Roster said.
"It was sort of on her ass," Sandin said. To Della he said, "Sorry about the language, ma'am."
"I thought this was the one you didn't have the pleasure of experiencing."
"I sort of noticed it when she leaned over once," he said defensively. "Her clothes didn't fit her very well, if you know what I mean."
"And you never saw Pamela Roster?"
Sandin held up his right hand. "Scout's honor," he quipped. "In fact, I've decided not to see her at all from now on. You just can't trust a woman who lies about her age. I'll cross her name right out of my little black book-
"You damn well better cross her name out!" Roster yelled "She's my daughter!" With that for-an exit line, he yanked open the door and stalked from the room with Della at his heels.
Sandin stared at the open doorway in disbelief, his mouth hanging open like the chute on a gumball machine.
An injured female voice behind him said, "I didn't know you had a little black book . . ."
He turned to see that Judy had emerged, now fully dressed, from the bedroom. "What?"
She strutted across the room to the front door. Sandin noticed that a patch sewn onto one cheek of her hip-riding, snug blue jeans seemed to be made of some kind of phosphorescent material. He wondered if it glowed in the dark.
Judy stood poised in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob. She turned to scowl at Sandin. "I said, you're a two-timing liar," she accused him. "You told me I was the only woman in your life. But now that I know you have a little black book, you can cross my name out too."
He sprung to his feet. "But, baby-"
"And forget the earrings!" she shouted at him as she walked out the door.
The door slammed shut, leaving him alone. "But how the fuck am I going to explain this to Jake?" he muttered.
Chapter Nine
Roster was awakened by a rude push at his shoulder and the insistent prodding of his wife's half-whisper.
"Chuck! Chuck!" she said. "Someone's at the front door!"
He reluctantly emerged from the haze of sleep and sat up. "What are you talking about? What time is it?"
Julia rolled over to scrutinize the clock on the bed stand. "It's five-thirty," she said.
"Jesus, it's still dark outside! Who would come at this time of the morning?"
"Maybe it's Pamela," she said hopefully. "She was always losing her key. Maybe she's come home!"
Roster wasn't so optimistic. If Pamela came home of her own accord, he didn't think she'd enter and wake them up-not after sending him that picture, she wouldn't. He strained his ears but heard nothing. "What makes you think there's someone at the door?" he scoffed. He was becoming aware of the overwhelming odor of sex that still lingered on the bed sheets, and he remembered the erotic bout he and Julia had engaged in before retiring just a few hours earlier.
"The door chimes rang," she said, sitting up to expose her pendulous breasts.
That was all the eye-opener Roster needed to fully arouse him from his state of dormancy. The hairs in his groin stood up. He leaned toward Julia and took one of her nipples between his lips, mouthing it gently.
She twisted away from him. "Chuck! This is serious! It might be Pamela!"
The mention of his daughter's name put a damper on his rising erection. "Okay, I'll go check the door," he said to appease her, still disbelieving that the door chimes had been much more than a figment of her dreams. He swung his feet off the bed and, with no small amount of annoyance, stumbled to the closet for his robe. He and Julia had made a joint decision to notify the police after he'd finally shown her the photograph and told her about his visit to Howard Sandin's. Roster was planning to personally notify the chief of police this morning. He hoped he might be able to convince him to be discreet about the matter, sparing himself adverse publicity.
He hurried down the hall, entertaining the forlorn hope that it might actually turn out to be his daughter at the front door.
Peering through the peephole, he saw no one. He cautiously unlatched the door, pulling it open. A small thud resounded on the floor. Someone had placed a thin package in between the screen and oak door. He stooped to pick it up. In large capital letters on one side were penned the words From Pamela.
"What is it, Chuck?" Julia had followed him into the front room.
"I don't know," he said, looking out the screen door for any sign of the parcel's anonymous deliverer. "It's from Pamela."
Julia grabbed the box from him and excitedly tore off the wrapper. The package contained a reel of eight-millimeter film and a pair of ragged panties.
Julia gasped. "My God! This piece of underwear belongs to Pamela," she cried, inspecting the girlish daisy print. "But she hasn't worn these in ages!"
Chuck pointed to some red smears on the crotch. "What's that?"
Julia peered at the stains. "I believe it's .". . lipstick!"
"I don't get it," Roster said, closing the front door.
Julia was now clad in a light-blue negligee-no panties, no bra. "Let's go set up the projector," she said, turning and scurrying off toward the rec room.
Roster watched the lovely bare globes of her ass bounce down the hall in the dim light, then he made tracks after her, his prick half-erectile felt a slight tinge of self-reproach for his inappropriate thoughts.
Julia was lifting the cover off the projector when he entered the room. "Put up the screen," she instructed him.
He fought the small home screen into a standing position and, by the time he had it opened up, Julia was ready with the film. He switched off the lights and joined her, standing beside the camera. His arm went around her in the darkness and he pressed his crotch up behind her and against the cushions of her soft ass.
"Not now, Chuck!" she exclaimed scornfully.
She flicked the switch to start the movie, and both Roster and his wife went into a state of silent shock as the image appeared on the screen. There was Pamela all right; she was licking her lips hungrily as she stared at a hairless, wide-open cunt, the film was in color.
Roster felt a tingling in his groin and his softened prick gave a jump at Julia's ass.
"Chuck!" she squealed. "That's our daughter! How can you be so gross?"
He was too close to her to deny the hardening lump beneath his robe. He didn't bother to defend himself against her accusation. He wasn't looking at his daughter, anyway. He was mesmerized by the bald, shining snatch.
Suddenly, Pamela dipped her tongue into the depths of the squirming twat.
Now Roster was definitely staring at his daughter. His prick responded by lurching against Julia's pliant buns again, this time remaining firmly pressed against one cheek, and growing steadily.
"They're forcing her to do that!" Julia cried in outrage. "Pamela would never ..."
Pamela certainly did look like she was enjoying it, and no visible form of coercion could account for the way she was going at the bald cunt. Of course, Roster assumed, they could easily have threatened her, even though that rationalization did not quite explain the expression of rapt passion on Pamela's face.
"But why?" he asked aloud. The head of his prick was nosing out of his robe.
"Jesus Christ, Chuck!"
His prick snuggled into the crack of her ass. Roster had always privately been turned on by the concept of lesbianism, but he'd never expected to see his own daughter such an avid eater of pussy.
"I don't understand how you can get horny while watching your own daughter be so terribly degraded," Julia hissed her eyes locked to the shocking film.
On impulse, he trailed his hand down Julia's belly to her cunt. Beneath the gossamer material of her nightie, it was dripping wet and hot as an oven. "I'm not the only one," he answered her. "You seem to be getting as worked up about it as I am."
He slipped his hand below the material and started rubbing her plump cunt, pressing one finger to her knobby clitoris.
She made no move to stop him.
On the screen, the unseen woman with the shaved cunt lifted her legs high, and what Roster got a brief glimpse of startled him. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed.
"What?"
"That woman had a tattoo of a heart on her ass!" he cried with enthusiasm.
"So what?" she huffed. "Jesus bloody Christ, Chuck! What an idiotic thing to get excited about! Don't you realize that's our poor baby up there?"
The hairless twat was now obviously in the midst of orgasm, Pamela slurping with gusto at the raw fountain of meat.
Roster was still petting Julia's damp snatch, and she had begun grinding her hips. His swollen prick ,slid back and forth on the trough of her asscrack, pointing skyward.
"That's the woman who stole Howard Sandin's car," he said. "I forgot to tell you. Sandin claimed that one of the women had a heart tattooed on her ass. It completely skipped my mind because at the time I thought he was handing me a pile of horseshit, but now I see he was telling the truth.
Those women stole Sandin's car in order to kidnap our daughter.
"I'm going to call the police right now!" Julia cried, pulling away from her husband's erotic embrace.
"No, wait," he said, holding her tight. "Let's see the rest of the film first. There might be some other clue."
Pamela was now prodding her cuntmouth with an enormous, purple dildo. Again, she seemed not in the least disturbed as she performed the prurient act. Now she placed the phallus to her lips and licked it with relish, lapping up her own glistening vaginal secretions.
Roster pumped vigorously up against the cheeks of Julia's ample rump.
"Chuck, you're perverse!" she moaned, though she was gyrating against him quite lasciviously herself, unable to restrain her own baser instincts.
Pamela sucked the dildo deep into her throat, as though it were a huge cock.
Roster could feel it as if it were his own aching prick. He tried to dismiss the idea that it was his own daughter who had evoked such heated response from his system. How could he actually take this film to the police? If his daughter had been kidnapped, why hadn't her captors just come out and asked for money? Then he could go to the authorities without risking scandal. As it now stood, his daughter had simply disappeared and was making dirty movies. The only witness who might have evidence that a kidnapping was involved was his daughter's thirty-year-old boyfriend, a mortician yet. The newspapers would love it, but he might as well kiss his future position as D.A. goodbye.
Pamela spat on the rubber phallus.
"This is so sick, Chuck," Julia wailed. "How can we hand this over to the police?" She was apparently thinking along the same lines as her husband.
Pamela shoved the dildo up her cunt and started viciously fucking herself with it, the look on her face one of pure rapture.
Roster ventured one of his fingers into Julia's own slit.
She didn't rebuff him. In fact, she undulated her pelvis in such a way that her cunt seemed to be sucking at his finger.
He wished it was sucking at his prick. "This film is rather professionally made," he commented.
"Oh, honestly!" Julia gasped, though he could not tell if her exclamation was meant because of his observation or his wriggling finger in her marshy inner tunnel. "Our daughter..." she panted, ". . . is being . . . abused!"
"I'm just saying . . . they're not amateurs," he clarified. His balls were heavy with cream. "That might be another .. . clue . .." He was using his other hand' to knead one of Julia's breasts through the sheer veil of her negligee.
Suddenly, a black man appeared on the screen. Only the lower half of his torso was in view beside the mattress, his conspicuously large prick aimed at Pamela's face. He was masturbating.
"Is that the same man as ... in that photograph?" Julia asked.
"I don't know. I can't tell. I wish they'd move up to his face. The body looks the same."
Julia was breathing passionately, bumping her ass up to his groin, squirming on his finger with erotic purpose.
"That guy really turns you on, doesn't he?" Roster grated.
She tried to quell her movements a bit. She didn't answer him.
"You realize that's our daughter up there." He echoed Julia's former sentiments.
"You're the one who's turning me on," she replied.
"Balls!" he countered.
"You are," she protested. "I want you to fuck me so bad I can hardly stand it, Chuck. How can anyone blame Pamela for turning out the way she did with parents like-"
"I object!" Roster cried out in courtroom habit. "We don't know that this film says anything about our daughter's ordinary sex life. Even if she wasn't forced to do it, they may have bribed her somehow."
"Who did?" Julia shouted back. "And why?"
"I don't know who or why!"
"It looks to me like she's enjoying every second of it," she sulked. "Maybe the tattooed woman is a friend of hers. Maybe Pamela arranged for the film to be made just to hurt us!"
"Rex Lazner", Roster said.
"Who's Rex Lazner?" Julia asked him.
"He was indicted on a drug-smuggling charge last month," he explained. "His case is supposed to come to trial next week ... a preliminary hearing, that is."
"Drop the charges," Julia said.
"Not now I won't," Roster told her. "This film is just what I needed to get to the bottom of this thing. We'll have Pamela back in no time."
"Chuck, don't be a fool!" his wife wailed. "Drop the charges! We have to do it!"
The projector shut off. The room went black.
"Right now, all we have to do is fuck," he growled to his wife, grinding his hips wildly, chafing his demanding cock against her ass.
She tried to remain stiff. "First promise me you'll drop the charges," she begged him.
"No. I only promise you I'll fuck you until your hot, wet pussy is singing with joy." He emphasized the pledge with a finger up her slippery chasm.
She gave a little yelp, writhing uncontrollably. "But Pamela!" she husked. "Our daughter's life is in danger. This is the wrong thing for us to be doing now . . ."
"Pamela will just have to hold off another five minutes. She looks like she's keeping herself occupied anyway." He took his pulsating dick in one hand and tried to aim it at Julia's cunt from the back.
"What a thing to say," she moaned, wiggling her ass in a way that was far from dissuasive.
He gave a push, and the fatty glans popped neatly into her anus.
Julia whimpered in alarm, tightening all her muscles. Her husband had never fucked her in the ass before. He had attempted it, requested that she let him try it sometime, but she'd always put him off, claiming that the concept was wholly repulsive to her.
"Take it out, Chuck," she said softly.
He still had one hand resting on the upper part of her cunt. He stroked in the area of her clitoris, pushing his prick further into her asshole.
"Chuck!" she cried in dismay, pumping her hips against the stimulation of his stroking hand even as she tried to buck him off.
"Damn, that feels good!" he said, easing farther into the tight, greasy depths of her bowels. He threw his other arm around the front of her so he could work on her pussy with both hands-one fingering her cunt, the other rapidly massaging her protruding little clit.
"You bastard!" she squealed with her mounting excitement.
"It was an accident," he puffed, shoving into her balls-deep.
Both of them were as hot as mating rabbits by this time, their pent-up orgasms approaching simultaneously, whipping them into a frenzy of raw, animal passion. Just when Julia's pussy clamped onto his finger like a snapping turtle, his own cock spasmed and a bolt of his jism spurted up her ass.
After a few more squirts from his buried hose and a last rippling wave from her clutching cuntmuscles, they were both sated, barely able to stand up, Julia leaning on the projector table, while he hunched over her, gasping for breath.
When his prick had somewhat diminished, he withdrew it from her ravaged anus. "It really was an accident," he repeated.
"Don't apologize," she said. "I may want you to try it again sometime." She straightened up and did the best she could to regain her composure. "New what are we going to do about Pamela?"
He crossed the room in the darkness and picked up the telephone receiver. "I'll take care of everything," he said. "Don't call the police." He dialed a series of numbers and waited.
Julia flicked on the light. "Who are you calling right now?" she asked him.
He held up a hand to silence her. Into the receiver he said, "Hello, Della? This is Chuck. I'm coming to pick you up in fifteen minutes. I know it's not six yet. This is an emergency. It concerns my daughter. I need your help . . . Okay, be ready when I get to your apartment. Goodbye."
Chapter Ten
Roster tapped his toe impatiently on the deep-pile rug in the hallway outside Della's apartment. He rang the buzzer a second time, then pounded on the door. After another thirty seconds, he tried the handle, found the door open and poked his head inside.
"Della!" he called.
He could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he stepped into her front room, then stalked directly to the bathroom. Without being issued an invitation, he went right into the small, steamy chamber.
"Della, you're late!" he said, his voice seeming to rebound from the misty tile walls.
She let out a yelp of surprise, followed by a melodic laugh. "You scared the shit out of me," she rebuked him from behind the frosted-glass sliding door of her shower stall. "I thought you were exaggerating when you said fifteen minutes. What an ungodly hour to expect me to be up!"
There was something exceedingly erotic about seeing her hazy nude form through the translucent glass. "This is urgent. I told you that on the phone," he reminded her. "We have to go to the office and check through some old reports. I think I may-"
The glass door eased open a couple inches and she batted her wide blue eyes at him. "You haven't even shaved, Chuck."
"I have an electric in my car. I'll shave on the way downtown." He was speaking to her one exposed breast. She looked fantastic with water droplets glistening all over her pink skin like that.
"Take off your clothes in the bedroom," she said cheerfully. "Come jump in the shower with me."
"I want to get a move on," he said.
"Oh, Chuck," she purred. "It'll make you feel better to get a refreshing start on your day. I'll wash you. You just stand under the water and-"
"But I tell you this can't wait. I have a lot of things to talk about with you. I received a message this morning from Pamela's kidnappers."
She slid the door open wider, revealing the full length of her lush physique. "You can tell me all about it in the shower," she persisted. "I still have to wash my hair. Now be a good boy and go strip off your clothes." She twirled her fingers into her sopping, matted, pubic bush. "And if you hurry," she added, "I'll let you wash this hair."
Roster couldn't turn down an offer like that. In the office, he gave the orders, but in her apartment, Della was the boss and he couldn't really say he minded obeying her. He hurried to the small bedroom off the bath. His daughter would have to tolerate the delay.
He chuckled to himself, thinking what a memorable day this was going to be. He'd never before ripped off two pieces from two different women before six-thirty in the morning. Actually, he had only himself to blame for the present dilemma. Knowing Della's sexual obsession, he should never have ventured into the bathroom if he hadn't wanted to provoke just the situation he now faced.
He laid his clothes over the back of a white, wooden rocking chair beside the dresser in her dark bedroom, then padded back to the bathroom, naked. Even without Della, the thought of a shower appealed to him. But with Della, he probably wouldn't even notice the water.
She was stooped over, her head beneath the spray of hot water, rinsing the shampoo from her hair when he stepped in behind her.
He fondled her swaying tits, weighing the heavy globes in his palms.
She straightened up and shook back her steaming hair. "I already washed those," she giggled.
He squeezed her breasts together. "Just thought you might need a bit of a rubdown," he retorted.
"You get under the water now," she said, stepping aside from the spray to make way for him. "And tell me about the note you got this morning."
"It wasn't a note," he said. "It was a film. And a pair of panties . . . Pamela's panties." He shouldered into the soothing hot shower.
"Her panties?" Delia wrinkled her nose. "Weird."
"With lipstick on the crotch," he added, water running down his face.
She started lathering his chest with a bar of soap, running her fingers through his thick growth of chest hair.
"But it was the film that packed the hardest punch," he went on. "A professionally made movie of my daughter engaged in very explicit sexual acts. Quite disturbing to my wife."
"You showed your wife? What were the films? Nudies or what?" She stopped kneading into his stomach with the soap. "Nothing like that photograph, I hope."
"Worse. About as hard-core as you can get," he said.
Delia looked up at him with a sly grin. "And how hard-core is that?"
He shrugged. "Enough to get Julia and I involved in our first experience with assfucking, and I didn't show the film to her. It was anonymously delivered to our front door and Julia set up the projector herself."
Delia busied herself with lathering his prick. "I'll have to wash you thoroughly then," she teased him, then asked, "Have you notified the cops?"
Exquisite tremors were shooting through his cock. "Not yet," he sighed. "I have a hunch to go on first. That's why I needed you. We have to check the confidential files the vice squad instigated a few months ago, the ones on the local pornography industry."
"Do you have access to that, Chuck?" She looked worried at his suggestion.
"That's why we have to go over there this time of the morning," he explained. "Technically, I have access to those files-with proper authorization from the D.A.-and I think I might be able to convince one of the early birds to let me take a look through them."
"What information do you need from those files? You couldn't get yourself into any hot water by doing it, could you?"
"No hotter than I'm in now;' he laughed, gesturing to the shower to point out his meaning. "I risk losing my job, but not so great a risk as what will happen if the papers get wind of these films and photographs of my daughter. If I can do some research myself, before the police get called in, the case might be wrapped up before news leaks out about it."
She stopped stroking his prick. "I guess it's worth the chance," she agreed. "Will it be hard to do?"
"I have my own keys and the guards all know me. They won't question me, I'm sure. I've often gone in early to get a head start on my day's work.
You know that- He pulled her close to him, enjoying the feel of her wet skin against his. Her tits flattened against his chest. "If you don't want to come with me, you don't have to. I just thought you might give me a hand . . . and some moral support." He cupped his hands around her buttocks, leaning down to kiss her.
She tipped her face away from him. "Wait. What do you want to know from those files? I still don't understand it."
He tweaked her nipple. "I told you, that film was very professionally made. I want to get the names of as many producers of this sort of film as I can. It may be a wild-goose chase, but I'm willing to bet a private inquiry is going to turn up an actress who has a lavender heart tattooed on her ass".
"Whoa, back up a little," Delia cried. "Explain this to me in more detail."
"Okay," he said. "Remember Howard Sandin told us about his grudge against the woman whose clothes didn't fit her? The co-star in the film we received also had a heart tattooed on her butt."
Della's hand tightened around his prick again and started pumping it. "You mean that idiot was telling the truth?"
"So it seems." He kneaded her plush, wet asscheeks, attempting to kiss her again.
She arched her back to avoid him. "But what makes you think this woman is a professional actress? That sounds farfetched."
"Two things," he replied. "One, she had connections to professional talent and production equipment. Two, she didn't have any pubic hair."
"No pubic hair? What's that have to do with anything? Maybe she's twelve years old?"
"Not according to Howard Sandin," he stated, punctuating his words with a playful pinch of her ass. "If she doesn't have hair on her cunt, it's because she shaves it off. One of the findings of the vice squad-Inspector Hampton told me this-was that there's currently a demand for women with shaved pussies. A lot of the actresses won't do it. It's irritating, hard to explain to boy friends, gynecologists and so forth."
"So she's an actress."
"It's an educated guess," he said. He brought one of his hands around to Della's sopping cunt. "I didn't wash your hair yet," he added.
She handed him the soap. "But there's no motive, Chuck," she said. "You don't have any control over the vice-squad activities-
"This doesn't have anything to do with the porn-film industry," he told her. "It has to do with the drug-smuggling rap pinned on Rex Lazner. His case is coming to trial next week. I happen to be the prosecuting attorney. Lazner wants me to drop the charges for lack of evidence."
Della's mouth fell open.
Roster took advantage of her surprise by snaking his tongue into the warm opening. She sucked at the lingual intruder, grinding her soapy bush against his nimbly working fingers.
"But Chuck," she said, pulling her mouth away from his, "The state has already decided to drop the charges against Lazner ... due to a lack of evidence! You told me so yourself!"
"I know that," he said. "And you know that. But Rex Lazner doesn't know it!"
"So call him and tell him the charges will be officially dropped," she reasoned. "Convince him that it's your doing so your daughter will be safely returned. What he doesn't know won't hurt anyone."
"But what I know will hurt him," he said. "I know he's guilty or he wouldn't have pulled something like this."
"So you're going to play hero," she said, her tone sarcastic. "Step back. I want to rinse my cunthair off."
He took his hand away from her snatch, moving out of her way. "Della, the only reason Kruthers told me to take this case myself was because there wasn't any case ... and he didn't want to come out looking like a fool for instigating the whole thing. If I can actually get something on Lazner, I'll have that D.A. job in the bag next year when Kruthers retires. We've been trying to get something solid on Lazner for ten years now."
Della swiveled the tub knobs and the shower drizzled to an end. "Well, if you insist on finding out who that actress is, I know an easier way than raiding the confidential files at City Hall." She yanked open the shower door and grabbed a couple towels.
"Such as?" He stepped out onto the bathroom carpet, rubbing the towel over his hair.
"I'll call Ray Wolner," she said. "He should be able to identify her from your description." Her eyes were riveted on Roster's erect prick.
He returned the compliment by staring at her cunt. "Ray Wolner?" he said. "Isn't he working undercover now?"
"He put together nine-tenths of that file himself," she responded. "He posed as an actor. He's starring in more fuck films right now than any stud in the city."
"How do you know this?" Roster demanded.
"He's one of my boy friends," she said.
"Della, you never told me this! How the hell did Wolner ever swing an assignment like that? He's barely more than a rookie."
"He's barely more than thirteen inches long, too," she smiled. "That's how he got the assignment, if you must know."
Roster whistled. "And Wolner's a good enough friend to give you confidential info?" "If I handle it right," she said, finishing drying her crotch and turbaning the towel around her head. She pushed open the bathroom door, stepping out. "Come with me."
That's just what I hope to do, he thought to himself, following her into the bedroom. He saw his clothes still over the back of the chair, but he had no intention of dressing yet. His prick was aimed at the ceiling.
Delia sat down gracefully on the bed, beside the nightstand which held her phone.
Roster blinked incredulously as he walked closer to her. Someone else was in Della's bed beneath the covers. Roster tiptoed a couple steps forward, his eyes intent on the figure hidden by the covers.
"Della," he whispered.
She looked up from the pocket-sized address book she was thumbing through.
He pointed to the full-length lump behind her.
She turned, looked, and burst into a laugh. "That's just Johnny-boy," she giggled, whipping down the covers to expose him. "I sleep with him on cold, lonely nights."
It was a mannequin.
Roster squinted at the bed. He stepped closer to the amazingly lifelike dummy. To his astonishment, it was equipped with an erect penis, balls, woolly pubic hair . . .
"Remember that guided tour of the Orient I went on last summer?" she asked. "It's amazing what they sell in Japanese supermarkets these days." She twitched her nose at him bawdily.
"That's unbelievable," he said. "Does it really . . . fulfill you?"
"Watch," she advised him, reaching behind the dummy's neck. She touched a switch and the lifelike cock started to vibrate with a soft hum. "There's three speeds," she explained.
Roster shook his head. "And it always lets you come first," he said.
"And second, and third," she added. "But don't worry. It can't take the place of the real thing. He's not a very good conversationalist." She reached out to Roster, taking hold of his stiff pecker, pulling him closer to her. She bowed over and lightly licked his cock. "Now just give me a minute to get this information from Wolner." She glanced at the book, then started dialing.
"Can't you turn that damn thing off first," he asked, nodding to Johnny-boy, whose-plastic peter was still shaking.
\^
Holding the phone to her ear by hunching her shoulder, she turned off the switch. After a moment's pause, she said, "Hello, Ray? This is Della."
Roster started to back away from her, not really wanting to eavesdrop on her personal affairs with Wolner, but she stopped him by seizing his cock.
"I know it's barely seven," she purred. "This is important, though." She looked up at Roster, licked the pudgy head of his dick, then said, "It's about your film career, Ray . . . Oh, really?" She laughed. "I'll bet those horny meter maids won't let you have a moment's peace . . . Hey, I need some facts about one of the actresses, honey."
The only occasion Roster had ever heard Della using this provocative tone of voice was when she was begging for a fuck. He'd never realized what a manipulator she could be. He liked the way she was currently manipulating his swollen prick though.
"I know it's confidential," she said into the receiver, "but it's important to me ... When? Tomorrow night? It's a date ... I promise you, Ray .. . Mmmm, yes, I'll swallow every last drop of it . . ." She gave Roster's pulsating glans another lick.
He reached down for one of her dangling tits, squeezing the plushy flesh in eager anticipation of the termination of the conversation.
"I want to know if any of the actresses had shaved cunts," she went on. "A few? Did any have tattoos? I'm especially interested in knowing if you happened to come across one with a heart tattoo on her ass, and no pubic hair . . . You did? What was her name? One of my friends has become . .. involved with her, and I just want to know what you know about her, that's all. I'm worried for my friend . . ."
At this point Della looked up at Roster and gave him a conspiratorial wink, which he returned. Into the phone she exclaimed, "She's a Lesbian? What's her name? Victoria . . . Victoria Gillette. Do you know where she lives? She's listed in the phone book? Thanks a million, Ray. That's all I wanted to know ... Of course I will, honey. I'll suck it like a baby at a bottle and drink up every bit of your sweet cream . .. Bye!" She hung up the phone.
"That was pretty slick," Roster noted.
"The hard part comes tomorrow night," Della said. "Did you ever try to give head to a thirteen inch cock? No, I guess you haven't. But you don't have to participate in that. Victoria Gillette. Write that down so you don't forget it, then get your big beautiful bod over here and fuck the daylights out of me." She released his prong.
He went to his coat to get a pen and notepad. "Get that contraption off your bed, too," he called to her. "That thing gives me the creeps." He scribbled the name into the inside cover of his notebook.
Della hoisted the doll over her shoulder and carried it, a bit too affectionately, it seemed to Roster, across the room to deposit it in her closet. She skipped merrily back to the bed to meet Roster, wantonly flinging herself down on the sheets.
She spread her legs open to display the dark folds of her cunt. She stuck one of her fingers deep into her hole. "I want your big cock right here," she growled. "I want you to fuck me even better than you put it to your wife this morning."
He lumbered onto the bed between her long, curvaceous legs. "It'll be a difficult contest to judge," he said. "She got hers up her two-lane blacktop." He aimed his prick at the aperture that was still being frigged by her finger.
She removed her obstructing hand. "Shove that spike into me," she rasped. "We'll make it a contest between you and Johnny-boy then."
He slammed into her all the way to the root and started humping her violently. He felt strange competing with what was nothing more than an oversized teddy bear for horny little girls, but he liked the idea of the challenge. He knew she was just kidding. But her hot, grinding twat was dead serious. There were few women who enjoyed sex as avidly as his buxom receptionist.
"Oh, fuck me!" she cried. "Screw that meat into me!"
She was hot, so he had her coming in no time, her cunt sucking like a starving leech at his banging prick.
"I'm coming! Oh, fuck me good! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Roster wasn't much into prolonging his erection much either at this point. It was getting late, and he had lots of business to attend to after he'd finished plugging Della's insatiable hole.
His balls squeezed tight and his pole shot a stream of white cum into the gulping chasm of her snatch. Another wad of spunk boiled up and seethed out the meatus like a burst of stringy lava, then one more shot and he called it quits.
"You win," Della gasped beneath his collapsed weight. "Johnny-boy always makes me get on top. I kind of like it down here better."
He kissed her mouth, then rolled off her. "Okay, secretary," he said, "Get Captain Sales on the line."
"Narcotics Division?"
He nodded. "We're going to arrange for a private showing of a film I have. And then we're going to stage a surprise party for Rex Lazner."
Pamela wakened from sweet dreams to find herself still trapped in the nightmare of the isolated bed, her chained ankle reminding her she was a helpless prisoner. She'd been dreaming of a high-school boy friend, and, as she regained consciousness, she realized she'd been performing fellatio on the boy.
That was something she would never have dreamed about before she'd been brought to this hellish place. Had her forced sexual training permanently affected her mind? Would, she finally be freed, only to discover her vilest carnal instincts had been untapped and her future would be totally ruled by her compulsive sex drives?
What did it matter? She no longer felt like an innocent girl; to worry about such things was like trying to protect one's cherry after it had already been broken. All she knew was that her dream had left a burning itch deep in her pussy, and, as long as she was confined alone on the miserable bed, she might as well do something about it.
She spread her white legs and gave way to the impulse to gratify herself, silently agitating her moist slot, her fingers rapidly fluttering over her clitoris. She wanted to purge her mind of the reality of her situation and float away on a cloud of bliss and forgetfulness.
But life was not so kind.
The door to her room jolted open and she was caught red-handed by Victoria, who entered the room followed by a full entourage of people. There was Dolly, then five strange men wearing masks.
Pamela didn't bother to close her legs. The previous day's exercises had left her beyond capacity for embarrassment. She simply withdrew her damp fingers from her inflamed cunt with a resigned sigh, glancing dully at her visitors. The men's masks were black strips of cloth which covered only their eyes.
"Looks like you were expecting us," Victoria said with a sandpaper laugh, nodding towards Pamela's open crotch.
Pamela was becoming so accustomed to such indignities she actually smiled back-a very hateful smile-at Victoria. The men gathered around the bed, eyeing her body hungrily. She scooted as far away from them as her restraints allowed, her small quivering breasts trembling like mounds of vanilla custard as she moved. She noticed that all the men were young, well-built and naked. She was getting so used to seeing nude bodies that she noticed the absence of clothes as an after-thought. Even Victoria and Dolly were in the raw now.
"I hope you're ready to make some new home movies, sweetie," Victoria said. "You did so well in the other one we decided to give you a break and try a second. As you can see, we've got-a much larger cast today. Have you ever been fucked by five healthy, virile studs at one time?"
Pamela surveyed the group of leering faces surrounding her bed. "At one time?" she echoed faintly.
"Sure," Victoria said. "One in your cunt, one up your ass, one down your throat and one in each hand. That's going to be the highlight of the movie. I'm glad you didn't finish masturbating, because now you're in the perfect mood for it."
Pamela didn't fee] much in the mood for anything except screaming. "Why don't you just kill me?" she lamented. She glanced around at the men's cocks. All of them were quite large in their flaccid states, abnormally large, in fact. Erect, they would be enormous. A couple of them even dwarfed Hugh's rod, and his prick was about as big as she would have thought they came. She wondered why Hugh wasn't among this motley crew.
"Don't be silly," Victoria admonished her. "Can't you see we're making you a star? You're getting more pleasure out of this than anybody, sweetie."
At that-moment, George and Hugh entered the room, accompanied by Lazner. All of them were clothed. George had his camera, Hugh was awkwardly transporting both spotlights and Lazner was puffing on a cigar.
"We're going to start out with the easier tricks, though," Victoria went on, talking to Pamela. "To begin with, I think a triple with Dolly and me might be interesting."
"How come her cunt's so juicy?" Lazner asked rudely. "Did I miss some of the action? You said you were going to wait for me."
"She was rehearsing when we came in," Victoria said. "Hurry with those lights, Hugh. We want to get the show on the road."
"How about the shackles," Lazner pointed out. "Aren't you going to take them off?"
Victoria shrugged, shaking her full breasts.
"What for?" Dolly put in. "She won't be getting off the bed, and it adds a sort of kinky touch, don't you think?"
Lazner dragged on his cigar. "Yeah, I guess so ... if it doesn't get in the way."
"Sit up, sweetie." Victoria had turned again to Pamela. "Dolly and I need room to hop up there with you." She grinned at the puzzled look on Pamela's face. "You know what sixty-nine is, don't you?" she asked. "Well, we're going to do a three-way sixty-nine, if you understand what I mean."
Pamela got the picture and wished she hadn't understood. She reluctantly slid over and the two rowdy sisters climbed onto the bed beside her, sitting down cross-legged.
"This is going to be a traditional Oriental fertility rite called the 'eternal circle'," Doily chirped. "I learned about it in my yoga class and it dates hack beyond the Kama Sutra-
"Cut the history lesson," Lazner interjected. "Just get on with the action."
Dolly pouted at him. "If don't explain it, she's not going to do it right."
"I'll handle the explanations then," Victoria asserted. "Let's see ... I'll take Pamela's snatch, and Dolly can get mine, then Pamela gets Dolly's."
"Okay, get into position," Lazner said.
Pamela didn't move, but the two other women crawled over each other and Victoria tugged on Pamela's legs to put her head between them. Pamela saw Dolly nuzzle up behind Victoria and stick her head into her crotch, adjusting her position so that her own fuzzy, blonde twat was angled at Pamela's face. She scissered her strong legs around Pamela's neck.
The three bodies took up all the available space on the bed, and Pamela couldn't move an inch without increasing the already likely danger of falling off the mattress. She jerked her legs as she felt Victoria nosing around in her vulnerable slot.
"Everybody start eating," George commanded, turning on his camera.
With a shock that made Pamela cry out, she felt Victoria latch onto her groin in earnest, devouring her sensitive pink tissues with unprecedented gusto. The way Victoria was wriggling around gave Pamela assurance that Dolly, too, was attending to business. Dolly's aromatic cunthair tickled her face as the girl pressed her underbody closer to Pamela's lips, and Pamela dutifully took a lick at the tender meat.
The three women lapped and sucked at each other while George skittered around the bed, filming from this angle and that, closing in on each eager mouth and twat, then backing up to get a total picture. At one point he stood over them on the bed to get a good perspective, and as Pamela glimpsed his trousered groin, she saw a prominent tubular lump that proved George was not as passionless as he pretended.
As she squirmed and licked, Pamela herself became more and more entranced with the novel style of lovemaking, her body responding happily to the dual stimulation. She could smell the heady aroma of three excited cunts and the galvanizing sex circuit seemed much more lustful than the time she'd lain passively in the back of the van while Victoria ate her cuntmeat.
"Now tongue each other's assholes," Lazner's voice broke in.
The command was nearly as startling as the thrusting wet invasion of Pamela's rectum. She kicked her legs in protest as Victoria jammed her hot tongue farther into her virginal anus.
"Stick your tongue into Dolly's asshole, Pamela," George directed, moving in on her with the ever-intrusive camera.
Pamela's mind revolted against the idea as she squirmed furiously with the intense provocation of Victoria's wriggling tongue buried in her own asshole. Dolly was bumping up her wide buttocks to provide Pamela a better offering of her puckered rectum.
Pamela's eyes crossed as she stared at close range at the brown-tinged orifice. Her arms, which had been wrapped compliantly around Dolly's hips, stiffened in an attempt to thwart the girl's insistent movement.
"Shove your tongue in there fast, before I shove it in for you!" Lazner shouted at her.
Cringing, Pamela stuck out her tongue to brush against the wrinkled sphincter. The acrid taste made her shudder. Mercilessly, George aimed the camera lens right at her face, so that she could not possibly fake it. Victoria gave her a jolting thrust of her finger where her tongue had just been. Pamela squealed in surprise.
Trying not to think about the loathsome aspect of what she was doing, she bravely stabbed her tongue into Dolly's proffered asshole. Her taste buds went wild with the strange, pungent flavor as Dolly let out a gleeful yelp.
"Fuck your tongue into her ass," Lazner goaded. "Give it to her good!"
Having already plunged into the worst of it, Pamela obediently did as she was told, rapidly thrashing her tongue into the narrow tunnel. The muscles of Dolly's rectum squeezed and contracted around her tongue as if begging for more.
Pamela slipped a hand between Dolly's warm legs to rub her oozing cunt the same way she could feel Victoria massaging hers. She was on the brink of exploding, and now it didn't matter to her what they wanted her to do. She was going to come, and that's all that she cared about.
Victoria and Dolly were approaching the same exhilarating plateau, and all of them flailed their legs and arms and slobbered deliriously over each other's asscheeks, their fingers working at each respective clit and cunt, their bodies wet and glistening with the sweat of frantic exertion.
They went off like a string of firecrackers, one after another in quick succession, moaning and wailing.
Pamela barely had time to collect her wits when Lazner was shouting directions again. "Doily and Victoria, off the bed! Snap to it! Okay, somebody get a rag and clean up the chick. She looks like shit."
Pamela sat up in confusion as someone slapped a wet washcloth at her. She took it and wiped off her face and started to dab it at her dripping pussy, but Victoria snatched it away before she'd wiped herself off.
"Leave your cunt the way it is, sweetie. You're going to need as much lubrication down there as you can get."
George had switched off the camera and was fiddling with the lighting equipment. "How about if I use colored filters for this one?" he asked Lazner. "Give it the full avant-garde treatment?"
Lazner waved him away with his hand. "I don't care what you do with the damn lights, as long as the film can be developed. I'm not doing this for art's sake, you know."
Victoria was rounding up all the masked men, trying to decide where to situate each of them.
"This is going to be a challenge," she said to Lazner. "Okay, Pamela, why don't you get up on your knees, there."
Pamela dazedly climbed to her knees, noticing that quite a few of the masked guys were already sporting impressive erections. Even though she'd just had a whopping orgasm, her greedy pussy began to tingle for more. She vaguely wondered how any normal man could ever satisfy her again after she'd experienced five glorious cocks at once. Wickedly, she realized she didn't care how corrupt she was becoming. Sex had never been so devastatingly thrilling to her before, and she figured she might as well make the most of it. She didn't even care about the camera any more.
"All right, you, Hank," Victoria called out. "Get up on the bed behind her. You're going to give it to her in the ass."
Pamela eyed the muscular, sandy-haired man who took a step forward and pounced upon the bed, clasping her around the waist as he knelt behind her. She could feel his distended rod nudging her buttocks, and she fleetingly wondered how it would be to have his long cock screwed up her asshole. Victoria's tongue and finger had been terribly exciting, but she was afraid her untested anal opening was too small to accommodate Hank's oversized prick.
"Vince, you stand on this side of the mattress and Bert can stand opposite you," Victoria went on. "Stand close enough so that she can reach both of your cocks."
Two other men came to the bedside and assumed the positions Victoria suggested. One of them, Vince, had a hard-on, but Bert's cock was still in a limp condition. He seemed embarrassed about it and tried massaging it with his own hand to bring it to greater proportions.
"Take a hold of each of their cocks, sweetie," Victoria directed. "And you might help out Bert with a bit of a hand-job, just so he's ready for action when we shoot the scene."
Pamela took each man's cock in her hands. Vince's was already pulsing with life, but as she squeezed on Bert's she felt it expand beneath her fingers. She continued to stroke it until it achieved adequate stiffness.
"Baby, you can help me out any time," he leered at her. "I envy the guy who gets to plow into that ripe young cunt of yours."
"That honor goes to Butch," Victoria informed him.
The grinning candidate bounded forward. "How am I supposed to take her?" he wanted to know.
"Hmmm, that's the question," Victoria agreed. "Look, why don't you stretch out underneath her? She can ride your cock while Hank works out from the back."
"Right." Butch climbed upon the bed and wormed his way back down beneath Pamela's straddling legs while Hank settled into a more convenient position behind her.
Pamela's pussy oozed more invitingly as Butch's swollen rod thumped anxiously against her open cuntlips.
"That leaves me," the last guy announced.
"Yes. ' Victoria contemplated the arrangement of bodies on the bed. "Roger, you're going to have to stand above Butch so you can get your prick into her mouth."
He nodded, rocking the bed as he added his weight to it. He stood bowlegged over Butch, balancing by resting one hand on Pamela's shoulder. With the other he aimed his manmeat at her open lips.
"Ready, George?" Victoria called out.
"Ready, set, go!" he yelled, starting up the camera.
The six figures around the bed stared at each other in bewilderment, not knowing who was supposed to do what first. Pamela shivered as Hank reached up to cup her tits in his hands, massaging her nipples into pert, pink buds.
As she wriggled with this first bit of stimulation, Butch guided his lengthy cock to her cunt and wedged his fat head at her opening.
"Slide down on Butch's cock," Victoria instructed.
Pamela did so with surprising ease; her pussy was still so wet it received the spearing prick as neatly as swallowing up a tampon. She moaned as the thick pole stuffed her slippery crypt.
"Fits me like a glove," Butch remarked happily. "I didn't think such a young pussy was going to take me."
"She had some stretching exercises yesterday," Dolly giggled.
Memories of the gigantic dildo passed through Pamela's thoughts. In a way, she really was grateful she'd had some preparation for her present acrobatics. Had they made her do something like this first off, her poor little twat might have suffered horribly from the extraordinary assault. Now she felt like she could fuck anything short of u whale without batting an eye.
Roger was impatiently pushing his cock toward her mouth. "Suck it, baby," he urged. "Open that cute little mouth wide and suck my prick!"
Pamela could not refuse the big banana that was prodding against her lips. She widened her mouth and the huge, hot cock slipped inside. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of his hairy groin and her tongue sampled his cock. She let her head bob as Roger fucked her face, realizing that even two men at one time was more of a turn-on than she'd ever imagined.
The men on either side of the bed were feeling neglected. "Jerk us off, too, you little bitch," Vince demanded. "I can't just stand by and watch this while all you do is hang onto my prick. If you don't jerk it, I will!"
"Don't you dare, Vince." It was Victoria. "Satisfy the gentlemen, Pamela," she said in a sugary tone. "Show 'em you got what it takes to give it to all five of them at once."
Pamela obeyed, winging her elbows as she jacked both pricks in her clenched hands, feeling as though she were rowing with fleshy thick oars. She tried to synchronize the sucking and hand-jacking and bumping up and down on Butch's tool, but it reminded her of the childhood game of patting one's head and rubbing one's stomach at the same time. She did as best she could, with the men stabbing their crotches at her as each of them groaned arid panted toward his climax.
Pamela had all hut forgotten about Hank's role in the script when suddenly she was torn by a piercing pain in the area of her anus. He was forcing his prick into her tight little asshole. She tried to scream, but Roger's ramming cock plugged her mouth so that nothing but a shrill gurgling sound emerged.
She wanted to squirm away from Hank, but Butch's tool, pumping rampantly into her creaming snatch, pinned her to the spot. She was helpless as she felt her burning anus yield to the inescapable pressure of Hank's cockhead.
"Easy, baby," he whispered into her ear, kissing her neck until she was weakened with chills of erotic pleasure. His hands still pinched and mauled her tits as he leaned over her.
There was a searing pain as her sphincter popped around the marauding tool. Pamela thrashed, her enraged bowels bearing down as if to eject, the unwanted intruder, but her behavior only made it easier for Hank to slip deeper into the circle of her back chute. The agonizing bulk went farther into her rectum until she feared he was rupturing her.
She'd never felt so crammed full of cocks in her life. She gripped fiercely at Vince's and Bert's staffs as though to anchor herself to the bed. The prick in her mouth butted relentlessly against the roof of her mouth, and she alternately sucked at it and cried out around it.
Hank's rod was so deep in her asshole it was adjacent to Butch's, and the flaming, stretched sensation made her feel like she had not two holes, but one, which was being drilled into by one, two-pronged cock.
She could tell by the frantic way Roger was mouthfucking her that he was going to come, and she tried to concentrate on helping him succeed. The thought that when the men orgasmed, their impaling cocks would no longer be hard enough to harm her, gave her incentive to hump her lower body at Hank and Butch. She prayed that one of them would quickly climax.
Roger, as she expected, was the first to blow. He grabbed her by the hair and held her face so tight to his groin she thought she would choke.
"Arrrgh! Suck it, suck it!" he howled, oblivious to the four other men who were just as anxious for their share of her attention. "Milk it dry!"
Pamela gulped at the strangulating stalk, wondering if at the final moment he would pull out and squirt at her face the way Hugh had. She didn't have to speculate for long. Within seconds, Roger rewarded her "oral efforts by creaming a seething load of spunk down her throat. She swallowed reflexively, noting how different the rich, male cum was from the flavor of Dolly's.
"I'm going to shoot, too!" Vince hollered.
"If you can. hold off a sec, I'll be right with you," Bert joined in.
As Roger withdrew his sagging cock from her raw lips, Pamela got a glimpse of Butch's lust-flushed face below and saw that he, too, was nearing the finish. Her own cunt was screaming with both, pain and pleasure and it felt like pleasure was taking over. Her cuntjuices flowed freely around Dutch's cock, and even her asshole was grinding more naturally against the pistoning pipe screwing her from behind.
Her hands worked feverishly at the two throbbing cocks at cither side of her, and both men grunted and gyrated their hips as they simultaneously orgasmed. Pearly streams of jism fountained from both exploding pricks in a fusillade of orgiastic release.
Pamela let go of the spent organs and fell forward, bracing herself over Butch on her elbows as the racking crescendo of her own climax erased all thought from her mind.
"Oh God," she whimpered. "Oh, oh, oh!" Her body shook ecstatically as wave after wave of delirious pleasure washed through her.
Her spasming cuntmuscles clutched at Dutch's cock until he, too, could stand it no more. He grabbed her thighs roughly and banged his groin up to her as his dammed-up sperm inundated the velvety hot well of her cunt.
"Christ!" Hank bellowed, matching Dutch's load of jism with one of his own, sprayed far into the oily recesses of her rectum. He bucked madly, pawing at her tits and slapping his balls against her prick-stuffed cunt as he rode to completion.
George was the first to speak, after shutting off his camera. "That scene should win an Academy Award," he snickered, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow.
Hank removed his prick from Pamela's butt and sank back, exhausted, on the bed. Pamela lay stretched out on Butch, too weary and surfeited to even climb off him. She could feel his massive prick slowly deflating within her tired cunt.
Dolly strutted over to the bed to examine Hank's still tumid prick. Her eyes lit on it with avarice. "God, that action really got me hot," she said, rubbing her pussy wistfully. "You look like you're still in operable condition," she said to Hank. "Why don't you use that beautiful cock on me. I'll appreciate it more than Pamela did."
Hank shook his head. "Not now, sugar. I gotta rest up a bit. That was the damn tightest assfuck I ever tried. She damn near skinned my prick."
Pamela gathered the energy to lift herself up from Butch, realizing she was still in a compromising position. From the way George was ogling her bare behind, she couldn't trust him not to try and take a flying leap at her. She disengaged herself from Dutch's shiny red prick and sat back on her sore ass.
"You'll get yours in due time," Lazner said to Dolly. "Right now I've got a few last details to attend to with Miss Roster."
The way he smiled at her made Pamela get Goosebumps all over.
"And now for the grand finale," Lazner announced, rubbing his hands together in a nervous gesture. He paced the room, waving his arms about. "Dolly, fetch Bobo. Butch, lead these masked marvels down to the dressing room. You guys have all been paid, so you can buzz off," He turned to George. "You stash the camera and get the handcuffs so we can secure her arms to the bedposts . . . And save that last reel of film for my private collection."
Pamela witnessed the evacuation of the room with a mounting sense of horror. At last there remained only Lazner and herself. Her eyes were saucers as she watched him cross the room to her bed. She couldn't fathom what greater degradation he had in mind for her, but her intuition told her he planned something evil.
Lazner sat down on the edge of the bed and grinned at what seemed to be a very private joke. Pamela found nothing amusing in her situation and did not return his smile. Even though he'd gotten rid of his cigar, he reeked of smoke.
"George used to work in Hollywood," he told her, as if the two of them were sitting in a restaurant carrying on a civilized conversation.
"Until he met me, and 1 showed him where the real money was ... And I don't mean skin flicks, either. George and me are involved in a lot of... business ventures, you might say."
Pamela merely glared at him with ill-disguised hatred.
"You're not very talkative, are you?" he said. "Maybe you'd just rather fuck with me. You seem to be able to say quite a bit with that supple body of yours."
"I'd rather die," she said from between clenched teeth. She rolled over on her side, turning her back to him.
Lazner pressed his finger into the cleft of her asscheeks and she immediately flopped over on her back.
He laughed. "Hank really stung you good, didn't he?"
"I'll die before I let you do anything else to me," she repeated coldly.
"That's one of your options," he said. "In fact, you're going to die this afternoon whether you'd rather or not."
She stared in awe at his twisted, emotionless grin. If anybody was capable of killing someone in cold blood, she knew it was Lazner.
"But you get to decide when," he went on. "We're going to have a little fun to see whether or not you'd like to prolong your life for an extra ten minutes or so. We'll even allow you to do one good deed before you go to heaven," he sneered. He grazed his hand down the sweaty hill of her belly to her sticky cunt.
She couldn't make any sense of what he was saying. She lay still on the bed, making no attempt to rebuff his arrogant caress. She didn't care what he did to her. It seemed she should be feeling more grief at the prospect of her own death, but she felt numb inside and out.
"I'm a gambling man," Lazner droned on. "And you're going to be instrumental in a wager I've made with Victoria. I bet her that I knew more about a woman's sexuality than she did. If I win the bet, I get to fuck her to my heart's contentment, and you don't know how many years I've been waiting to sock it to her queer little cunt!"
He prodded his finger between Pamela's cuntlips, as if hers were the twat he was talking about. "If she wins," he continued, "I'm going to give her a hundred thousand francs as soon as we hit Paris, which should be sometime tomorrow morning. Of course, you won't be around to wish us bon voyage, no matter who wins the bet."
George came into the room with a couple of pairs of handcuffs and proceeded to the task of cuffing her wrists,, stretching her arms out to the tops of the bedposts. Pamela felt as though she were being prepared for crucifixion.
"But I'm not going to be your lover for this encounter," Lazner told her. "You're going to have the choice of a quick death or ..,"
Victoria and Dolly came into the room, both now robed in long, transparent gowns. They were followed into the room by a dog.
"This is Bobo." Lazner introduced the creature casually, still fondling her pussy.
Suddenly, Butch appeared at the door, now dressed, but still wearing his mask.
"I told you to keep the hell out of here," Lazner screamed at him.
"There's a guy out here who wants to see you," Butch told him.
George rushed to the door. "Where is he? Who let him in?"
"He's across the hallway," Butch said.
"That's where the stash is!" Lazner hollered. "Jesus H. Christ!" Dolly and Victoria both made a beeline for the door.
"Don't let her up," Lazner called over his shoulder to Hugh. "I've got to check this thing out." He pulled a small revolver from his shoulder holster and cocked the hammer. He crossed the hallway into the dark room after Butch.
"Drop the gun," a voice behind him commanded.
Lazner spun around to see half a dozen cops, all with pistols aimed at his head.
"Drop it or you get your head blown off."
Lazner recognized the voice from his indictment. It was Roster.
"It's cocked," Lazner informed him. "If I drop it, it might go off." He saw Victoria, Dolly, and George in the corner, lying face down on the floor. A plainclothesman with a sawed-off shotgun was standing over them.
Roster held his hand out, and Lazner gently deposited the gun into his palm.
"There must be a million dollars worth of cocaine in this room," he said.
"Better make that ten million dollars," Lazner boasted. "How the hell did you find this place?"
"Through me," Butch piped up, peeling off his mask.
Roster did a double take. "Ray Wolner!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I've been on this Lazner case for a month now," he explained. "That skin-flick job was just a ploy to get in the door. I knew about your daughter being here from the beginning. In fact, I was the messenger boy Rex sent to deliver that film to you, Roster."
"You punk!" Lazner screamed at him. "You goddamn punk narc creep!"
"Is my daughter in the next room?" Roster asked Wolner.
"Yeah, but she's not fit for receiving company at the moment," Wolner said. "I'll go get her . . ."
"I'm coming with you," Roster said, following the undercover cop into Pamela's cell.
Pamela still had her legs spread lewdly open. She lifted her head to peer at the new faces. "Daddy!" she clamped her legs together and burst out in tears. "Oh, Daddy, the things they made me do! I feel so low and dirty! How can you ever love me again?"
Roster ran to the bed and threw his arms around her with paternal joy. She buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed as he held her comfortingly. "It's okay, honey," he consoled her. "It's all okay now. I was such a fool, Pamela. None of this could have happened if I hadn't tried to impose my hypocritical morality on you."
She said, "But, Daddy, you didn't-"
"Shhh," he cut her off. "I know what I'm saying. I've had plenty of time to think about it and I've come to the conclusion I've been trying to overprotect you. If I hadn't forbid you to see older men, you wouldn't have had to sneak out behind my back."
"Then you're not mad at me?" She blinked up at him.
"Hell, no," he assured her. "I'm just thankful nothing worse has happened to you. I want you to be able to be honest with me from now on, Pamela. I think the generation gap should be bridged by everyone."
"Does that mean . . ." her voice faltered. "Do you mean I can ball anybody I want to?" she blurted.
He nodded. "Let's just see that you get some birth control pills before you, ah, star in any more films."
She stared incredulously at his crooked grin, then threw her arms around his neck in a bear hug. "Oh, Daddy, you're wonderful!"
"While you're at it," Roster said, "you should thank Mr. Wolner, here. He's the one that gets credit for saving your life."
Pamela turned around slowly, for the first time noticing the other man in the room. She squinted at him. "Butch?"
He nodded.
She giggled. "Well, there's one way I could show you my appreciation. With Daddy's permission, of course."
"Of course," Wolner grinned widely. "Uh, why don't you give me your phone number before we take these guys down to the station?"
"Oh, I've got a lot more to give you than that," she said, winking at her father.
