Callie's protests echoed hopelessly in her ears as the determined artist sunk down so that his muscular body was positioned between her futilely writhing legs. Despite her attempts to escape, she was pinned down on the couch in a splayed-out position.
He lowered his mouth to her already moist cunt and smelled her love juices ... using his tongue to lightly flick over her erect clit ... circling her pussy lips ... sucking harder at her womanhood ... moving his tongue to her cunt hole and pushing it in and out of her love box until he felt her pulling his tongue deeper inside of her aroused body.
Callie knew she couldn't resist this artist's talented strokes of his lusty tongue, so she would use her creative abilities to bring him sexual joys he never imagined.
CHAPTER ONE
"You come home without a job, Callie O'Hara, and I warn you, I'm throwing you out!"
"Yes, Aunt Lizabeth," the slender, huge-titted blonde said, wondering why on earth she had been stupid enough to think that her maiden aunt-whose pussy surely had never been fucked by a man's cock in her entire life-would help her out in her time of need.
"I'm not supporting a full-grown woman who fancies herself too good to do an honest day's work, and who spends most of her God-given time painting pictures nobody in his right mind can make heads or tails of!"
Miss Lizabeth Daniels, a devout churchgoer, had never forgiven her voluptuous twenty-year-old niece, whom she had raised from the age of eight, for running off to Greece with a long-haired foreigner with the outlandish name of Jacques Lamothe. Callie had been such a good, obedient girl when she had come to live with her after the tragic death of her parents, and even when she had grown older she had never complained about her ten o'clock curfew or the fact that she could only date the boys her aunt approved of. What could have gotten into the girl to make her run off with some long-haired French artist a week after she had met him at the Museum of Arts where she had been working?
" ... and if you think I'm going to accept tne evil things you've done," the thin-lipped older woman snapped as she glared at the young blonde, "you'd better think again. I told you what would happen if you let yourself get involved with an irresponsible long-haired type like that woman-hungry Frenchman. Well, now he's getting his just due, and I don't feel the least bit sorry for you!"
Callie knew it was no use protesting that Jacques had been falsely charged by the policia for selling hashish, that he had never done more than smoke a joint or two when artist friends brought the stuff over. Aunt Lizabeth only believed what she wanted to believe.
Oh, Jacques, my pussy is so hot to be fucked! the beautiful green-eyed blonde's mind cried longingly. She felt the nipples of her huge sensuously throbbing titties come to life and nudge her cotton dress, making her cunt tingle even more excitedly. She squeezed her legs together beneath the breakfast table to ease the lewd fluttering sensations she felt up in her cunt, but it did no good at all.
Raising her eyes fearfully from her breakfast plate, the voluptuous, cock-starved young blonde was surprised to see her Aunt Lizabeth busily wiping up the kitchen counter, her back to her, completely oblivious to the obscene thoughts running through her mind. Oh, Aunt Lizabeth, if you only knew how wonderful it feels to have your pussy fucked! her mind screamed.
Callie's pussy juices wetted the cuntband of her panties as she thought of Jacques's hugely throbbing cock fucking deep up into her hotly squirming pussy-hole, his cum-laden balls slapping sensuously against her nakedly upturned ass-cheeks. Suddenly, unable to stand the obscene aching in her cunt any longer, she cast another fearful look at the older woman and slipped her left hand up inside her dress inside the waistband of her panties, snaking her middle finger down through the softly curling blonde pussy-hair and on down to the slippery wet cunt-slit, where she immediately found the tingling little bud of her clitoris.
Uuuuuuummmm! she moaned silently as she got a firm grip on her pussy mound and flicked her fuckfinger around the tiny quivering clit.
"Ummmmmmm!"
The older woman, busily working at the sink, turned at the sound, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Well, I'm glad you agree with something I've been saying to you this morning, young lady!" She turned back to the dishes.
Callie flushed, mortally ashamed as the warm pussy juices flowed hotly around her left hand. She knew that her aunt couldn't see beneath the table, nor even suspected that she had her hand in her panties and was playing with her pussy. This was the most horrible thing that she had ever done, fingerfucking her burning, cock-hungry cunt in front of her own Aunt Lizabeth! But the obscene act only excited the beautiful green-eyed blonde, her shame and fear turning into searing heat, and suddenly, she pressed her extended fuckfinger down into her moistly flowing pussy and jammed it as hard as she could into her devouring cunthole.
Oh, God, that feels good, she thought excitedly. If only my finger were a real cock. It's just not big enough; I want a real prick to fuck my pussy!
"Callie O'Hara, you quit dawdling over your breakfast so I can finish washing up!" Aunt Lizabeth walked over to the table and picked up the plate of half eaten eggs, returning to the sink to scrape them down the disposal.
"The morning is already half gone. I thought you said you had some job interviews."
"I-I do, Aunt Lizabeth," the young girl stammered.
"Well then, you had best get started."
Callie pulled her finger out of her still hot pussy-hole, wiping off the warm cunt juices on her finger on her inner leg, and edged out the kitchen door.
I'll find me a good job, and save up enough money to get to Bostonl she vowed silently as she stood at the bus stop waiting for the bus to downtown Charlotte. I'll show Aunt Lizabeth I don't need her help. Jacques said he had some friends in Boston-they can help me.
Now, as the summer rain mingled with salty tears on the young blonde's wan cheeks, the proud aspirations had faded to a dull knot of worry in the pit of her stomach. Her aunt wouldn't really throw her out in the street, she realized, but she would make her life so miserable by her constant nagging and preaching that Callie was sure she would go crazy. How had she ever survived living at home before? But of course, that was before she met Jacques and learned how warm and wonderful life could be when you were free and in love.
Again, the rain-drenched young artist reminded herself that it was no use dwelling on the past. Squaring her slender shoulders, she decided to try the last, most unattractive possibility on her list of job possibilities-the modeling job recommended by her former classmate and neighbor, Sheila Eamon. Sheila, a voluptuous redhead whose Irish blood had graced her with bright, mischievous blue eyes and huge tits, which had given her a bad reputation in her high school days, had modeled for an artist named Barth Owens before her recent wedding. Now, her pregnancy was already embarrassingly evident after two months of marriage. She had called out to Callie from her window last night when the blonde was taking a walk to escape from her aunt's constant tirades of criticism.
Although Callie hadn't known Sheila very well in high school-Aunt Lizabeth didn't approve of the Eamon girl's flagrant sexuality, heavy makeup and provocative, braless clothing-she was grateful to see a familiar face. The last few days in Greece had been a living nightmare, what with fearing police interrogations and not knowing who had lied about Jacques to have him arrested, and Sheila was smiling so amiably that she didn't hesitate to climb up the porch steps to her neighbor's front door.
The redhead was very envious of her friend's experiences in Greece, but her voice grew sympathetic when she heard Callie's sad story after shooing her younger brother Tommy from the room.
"Golly, Callie!" she'd exclaimed, opening two beer cans and shoving one across the table to the tearful young blonde. "You've had an even worse break than me. Wow, back in high school I always thought you were just a goody-two-tits, never thought you had enough cunt to get into so much trouble! But listen, I got just the thing for ya, sweetie ...",
Callie had blinked away her brimming tears, ignoring the beautiful redhead's filthy language, and stared hopefully at her high school acquaintance. Sheila's rather vulgarly pretty face had grown rather splotchy and chubby with her pregnancy, and her swelling figure was already beginning to resemble her easygoing mother's ample curves, but she still had the old vivacity and live-for-today attitude that the more introverted blonde artist had always admired. Hope sparked beneath her huge sensuous tits as she listened to the wanton redhead's suggestion.
"Yeah, I had this really far-out job, before I got knocked up," Sheila went on, patting her swollen stomach with a little frown. "I was an artist's model. His studio is at the other end of town on East Trade Street. He's working on some kind of a project and needs models. He's a really fantastic guy, a barrel of fun, and I really dug the outfit I wore!"
"Outfit ... ?" Callie had echoed somewhat relieved, thinking of the many artists' models who were required to pose nude, and the disturbing stories she knew about the goings-on between models and artists.
"Oh yeah, like a Roman slave-girl in one of those old movies," Sheila giggled, a rather wistful light glinting in her large blue eyes as she thought of the fun she'd had before becoming a settled, married woman. "Only, modern, you know? Real cute!"
"Well, I better get going," Callie had said, setting down her beer can on the table and standing up. "Aunt Lizabeth is probably calling the vice squad already, thinking I've run off with an organ-grinder's monkey or something. You know how she gets."
The pretty young blonde artist knew full well that her aunt was at one of her charity bazaars sponsored by the church, but she suddenly felt she had to get away from Sheila. Imagine modeling for an artist-she knew all about them! She couldn't think of anything worse than an awful old man pinching her ass every time he got up from the easel! Well, Sheila could have it. She, Callie, had too much pride to allow her body to be used in such a cheap way. Her body belonged to Jacques, and she was going to let no one else suck her titties or fuck her cunt, even if she was going to have to wait at least three long years before seeing him again.
Yet now, less than two days later, Callie O'Hara found her feet turning in the direction of Barth Owens's studio. I haven't any choice, she rationalized wretchedly. And Shelia did say he'd be sure to let me model if I said she'd sent me there ... and he is well-known.
There were about six more blocks to cover before reaching the studio, and Callie walked as fast as she could, oblivious to the lecherous stares of the men she passed as she hurried along. Her green cotton dress clung to her curvaceous figure like a second skin as the rain beat down on her, outlining her hugely jiggling titties and the gently protruding mound of her pussy. The voluptuous blonde's body unintentionally presented a delectable display of feminine sensuality that was understandably disturbing to the other pedestrians.
By the time she reached the studio, Callie O'Hara was literally soaked to the skin. The first thing I'm buying if I get this modeling job, she decided, thinking of the positive aspects of employment in an attempt to stem her nervous distrust of the place, are some more art supplies so I can begin painting again. I'm an artist, and even though my paintings were confiscated by the policia, I can always start again, I will start painting again!
Despite her efforts to cheer her lagging spirits, however, Callie's slim white hand shook as she reached up to grasp the iron knocker that was fixed to the heavy oak door. There was no answer to her rapping, and, glancing up, she realized there was no sign of life behind the shuttered windows.
After being disappointed so many times earlier in the day, Callie had thought she was deadened to the chilling emotion of dismayed failure, but once again she felt her heart sinking to her feet. The man might not even be at his studio now. But she didn't have his phone number, and how could she wait in the rain? She'd only enough money for bus fare across town, and besides, there seemed to be no drugstores or cafes in the vicinity. Oh, how she missed Greece with the taverns full of gaiety and music.
The troubled young blonde pushed strands of her long, rain-sodden hair from her face and gazed rather desperately up and down the block. She should have called the man first, she chastised herself. Well, it was too late now!
Plucking up her courage, the voluptuous, destitute young artist rapped again, harder this time. To her relief, a long-haired young man yanked open the door and looked down at her.
"Well, well! I didn't know Barth was expecting any company," he said to her, his eyes staring directly at her huge tits.
Though she didn't much like the young man's lecherous looks, Callie ignored him.
"I've come about a modeling job," she declared. "A friend of mine told me Mr. Barth Owens might need a model ... Are you a ... a friend?"
Pushing his long hair back from his face, the young man gave the voluptuous young blonde a scrutinizing stare. His face grew a little more welcoming as he again took in the enticing sight of her huge sensuous tits straining against her wet cotton dress and the tiny points of her nipples poking through the fabric, and he shot her a sort of crooked smirk.
"Yeah," he said. "Let me get Barth and see if he wants to talk to ya."
Although part of her brain was still insisting: run away from here. A job like this means trouble, Callie remained rooted to the spot. And when an older, handsome man, obviously refined despite his paint-spattered clothes appeared in the doorway, she felt much calmer. What had she expected?
Bartholomew Owens, a successful artist, was as impressed with the young woman's appearance as she was with his. In one quick glance he ascertained that the chick was young, innocent, and possessed of exactly the sort of unintentional seductive sensuality that never failed to give him a hard-on.
"Come in, my dear," he smiled, taking care to keep his expression more paternal than lecherous. It was always the best policy to treat young and inexperienced chicks with great care at first, he'd learned. "You're drenched. You must be freezing. C'mon, let's go into my studio and get you dried off."
Callie followed in mute gratitude as the well-groomed artist led her along a carpeted hallway toward the farthest door and through an open archway, and then she found herself entering a large room full of canvases, easels, and on the walls, huge abstract paintings of improbably tangled naked men and women.
"Sit down, my dear," the handsome artist urged, indicating a low leather couch on the other side of the room with a wave of the hand. "Let me get you a drink to warm you up ...",
"Th-that'd be l-lovely," Callie O'Hara stammered. "Thank you so much, M-Mr...."
"Barth," the tall man filled in, smiling expansively as he handed the young girl a brimming glass of potent scotch.
She's just ripe for it, he exulted to himself as he settled down on the sofa beside the young girl. When I see a sweet little pussy like her, I know it's too fucking good to waste!
Smiling timorously, innocently oblivious of the lewd glint in the older man's gray eyes, Callie murmured her thanks and sipped at the drink. Everything's going to be all right after all! she thought, never noticing the ominous bulge in his pants. They chatted pleasantly, and Callie refused a third scotch. Her head was already spinning in dizzy circles, the result of not being used to drinking, and she did want to make a good impression. It would be lovely to be this man's model, he was so nice.
"Sure?" Barth Owens queried, leaning closer to the young girl. "You're still shivering. This'll keep you from getting a chill."
"Well, all right," the naive blonde relented, for it did seem rude to refuse the proffered glass. Anyway, it must be good for her--anything that tasted that bad must be a sort of medicine, she rationalized. She did wish, though, that Barth wouldn't sit quite so close to her. Why, he was practically on top of her! Gingerly, not wanting to offend the artist she hoped would become her employer, she inched toward the far end of the couch.
Not so fast! Barth baby, he cautioned himself. Let her get good and high before you put your cards on the table, man. But Jeez, am I hot for this cute little chick! My prick sure don't want to wait too long to get inside that blonde pussy!
Standing up-much to Callie's relief-the older man moved toward the bottle of scotch and filled his glass.
"Well, I do need a model," he smiled at the nervous blonde. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"
"I ... I ... well, I grew up here in Charlotte, North Carolina." Callie began timidly, not quite knowing what to say about her life. "I was born in Minneapolis, though, and lived there until I was eight. My parents were killed in the Mount Fuji airplane crash back in 1966, so I was sent to live with my aunt here in Charlotte. I went to art school with the rest of the insurance money that was left to me after I graduated from high school, and ...",
Here Callie paused, not knowing what she ought to say about Jacques. A faint blush tinged her cheeks pink, and she twisted her hands together in her lap.
"Yes?" Barth smiled again. "Go on ... tell me about your modeling experience."
"Well ... uh ... I really haven't had any modeling experience," Callie said rather apologetically. "I'm actually an artist myself. I just need the work for now ...",
"Oh? A young thing like you, an artist?" the older man remarked.
"Yes. I spent some time in Greece with my boyfriend. I did a lot of painting there ... I was so happy ...",
By now the unhappy girl was so nervous that she downed her burning scotch in one gulp and scarcely noticed that Barth was refilling her glass for the fourth time. Suddenly she felt dizzier than ever, and her sad story came blurting out in a rush of tearful words.
"There, there, don't cry, my dear!" the lecherous artist soothed, easing himself back down on the sofa and stroking the intoxicated young girl's shoulder in a paternal manner. "I'm sure everything'll work out just fine for a cute little thing like you. If you're the right type you'll earn good money, six bucks an hour, and with a nice wad of bills in your pocket, you'll see that the world's not such a bad place after all."
"Do ... do you s'pose I really can model for you?" Callie sniffed. She made a valiant effort to gain control over her emotions. And, goodness, but her cunt was starting to tingle again, just like it had that morning when she had had to fuck her finger up inside her pussy beneath the breakfast table. What in the world was wrong with her, and what must Barth think of her? Why, he was comforting her as though she were a little kid, and no wonder, for she was acting as silly as one.
"I mean, do you feel I'm suitable?" she said in what she hoped was a professional manner, once again edging away from the fatherly middle-aged man.
"Hhhhmmm," the older man cleared his throat. "Callie, my dear, you've got a pretty face. That's important, of course. But there's another even more important consideration..."
Callie O'Hara stared at him, her large green eyes a little confused. "Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, remembering for the first time since entering his studio what her friend Sheila had told her about an outfit.
"I'm contracted to do some paintings for the college history department." Barth Owens affected his best professional manner.
"Yes, I understand," Callie nodded, for the dark-haired man was looking at her as though he expected her to reply.
"That's a girl," Barth grinned. "I can tell you're a real smart chick, and that's the kind I like to work with. I'm sure we'd get along fine ... if you look good in the outfit, that is ...",
Callie's heart gave a dull thud of dismay, and once again she drained her scotch glass in her nervousness.
"Outfit?" she blushed. "Wh-what sort of outfit?" For the first time, she felt uncomfortable beneath the older man's lewdly undressing eyes and self-consciously crossed her arms over her hugely straining tits.
The artist's rather raucous guffaw of laughter unnerved the innocent young girl more than ever. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he drawled. "Nothing you wouldn't wear to the beach."
Barth Owen walked over behind the bar and pulled out a small piece of white cloth. Callie, who had been expecting something even tinier, if that were possible, held it up to her and found that it was a short, almost see-through, slave-girl costume.
"Why don't you slip into this, and let me see how you look?" suggested the artist, and when the blonde gaped up at his face in embarrassed dismay, she saw sparks of unmistakable sexual arousal glinting in his gray eyes as he stared lecherously at her sensuously throbbing tits.
I want to get out of here right away! her mind screamed. I don't trust him at all! And I'm certainly not going to pose for a dirty old man. An artist is one thing, but he certainly has other things on his mind.
But in the next instant, another voice echoed through her alcohol-dazed brain. What if you don't take this job, Callie? What'll you do then? After all, it's not really so immodest; you had a very tiny bathing suit in Greece and you let all the men look at you on the beach. It even got your cunt all hot and wet when they did! Besides, this job would be respectable enough, at least you wouldn't be completely naked. And besides, think of the money.
"Okay," she said resolutely, getting rather clumsily to her feet. For a minute the room seemed to spin around her like a carousel, but she took a deep breath and managed to steady herself. "Where's the dressing room?"
"You're a real babe-in-the-woods, aren't you? Of course I don't have a dressing room here in my studio. What a ridiculous idea, my dear."
Callie turned crimson and stared down at the floor. Though she would never have told a soul, her discomfort was enhanced by the lewd prickles of unwanted excitement that kept dancing in her cunt as she recalled again the pleasure she'd felt when Jacques had praised her voluptuous curves. Even more exciting to her was the fact that she had felt similar thrills of illicit arousal in her pussy when total strangers had stared in admiration at her tits and rubbed their bulging crotches!
CHAPTER TWO
Christ! Barth Owens gloated as he watched Callie O'Hara's cheeks turn bright pink. She's as shy as a bride. But that's how I like 'em-nice, fresh pussy. Too bad she's been around, otherwise I'd bet my bottom dollar she still had her cherry!
"If it makes you feel better," he suggested, "I'll turn my back while you change, and you can close your eyes while I look at you, if it embarrasses you so much. But listen, Callie, if you get this job, you're going to have to get used to this. I'm an artist, and not interested in your body for-uh-shall we just say, romantic purposes," the older man lied through his teeth.
You've got to do it! The innocent blonde steeled herself for the ordeal. Don't be a baby! Remember how Jacques was always saying how there was nothing wrong with the human body, that you should shake off the hang-ups you got from listening to your aunt go on about morals ... and besides, you need the money!
"Okay, Barth." Callie reached out her hands for the nearly transparent outfit. "I guess I am being silly," she added, and even managed a shaky smile. Nevertheless, the habits of a lifetime were stronger than any artificial rationalizations, and the naive blonde waited until the dark-haired man had turned around before starting to undo the buttons running down the front of her still damp dress. As she tugged the snug-fitting bodice down over the uncovered mounds of her huge, sensuously throbbing tits, she was so overcome with mortification that she felt compelled to shut her eyes. I hope he can't tell how hot and wet my pussy is!
Silently, stealthily, Barth Owens twisted his neck around and half-opened one eyelid to peer at the luscious big-titted young blonde. As he'd suspected, the naive girl had actually scrunched her eyes tight shut, and he was free to feast his hungry, lecherous gaze on the charms of her huge, voluptuous twenty-year-old tits. It was all he could do to restrain his moan of anticipatory delight as first one huge naked tittie and then the other appeared before him, and when the green cotton dress eased down over her tiny navel and softly swelling hips, he thought his obscenely throbbing cock would explode from desire. Jesus, he couldn't wait to fuck her tight little cunt with it!
Is she ever built! he exulted, surreptitiously sliding one hand on top of the enormous bulge in his pants to massage his painfully pulsating prick. This is going to be a fuck to remember!
Shivering with shame, Callie O'Hara eased her cotton dress down over her smoothly curved ass-cheeks and firm-fleshed thighs. Then, with an inaudible sigh, she shyly let go of the protective garment and let it drop down around her sandal-clad feet. Quick as lightning, she stepped away from the discarded dress and tugged off her modest white panties, then hurriedly pulled on the tiny white panties of the costume.
The young blonde had moved so rapidly that the eagerly watching older man had only the briefest of glimpses of her softly curling blonde pussy hair, but he'd been able to ascertain that her cunt curls were the same shade of gold as the hair on her head. So she wasn't a bottle blonde like most of his female models! The outfit was so small that it allowed strands of pussy hair to escape, and he was sure that some of his other artist friends would be as excited as he himself was when he told them about this chick's genuine blonde pussy! Jesus, this little cunt could make a lot of money for herself if she played it smart.
Callie had an awkward time fastening the bra segment of her outfit. She didn't dare open her eyes, and her fingers were leaden and clumsy after the four glasses of scotch. At last, she was compelled to let her lids fall open so that she could tie the intricate ribbons which laced up between her huge ripe young tits.
"Ready?" enquired Barth, who'd turned his head away just in the nick of time.
"Y-yes," stuttered the blushing young blonde. She'd closed her eyes again, and crossed her arms over the revealing top in a vain effort to disguise her virtual nudity.
"Verrrry nice!" the artist exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Callie, babe, you've got tits and an ass that'll take you places, no kidding. Well, honey, the job's yours if you want it. Only one more thing."
God, now what? Callie's tortured mind moaned. J can't stand any more of this, really I can't. But I have to be brave. I need the money too badly not to! Fortified by the thought of her desperate financial situation, the innocent young girl paraded around the room as the artist instructed her. She felt like a tramp, a sluttish girl of the streets, as she twisted this way and that, bending and stretching in response to his instructions like a mindless marionette controlled by its master's strings. All the time, she was acutely aware of the sex-hungry male eyes staring at her pussy, tits, and ass, and finally she felt she could no longer take this debasement.
"Pl-please, Mr ... Barth," she whispered, trying to tug up the panties, which had a disconcerting habit of slipping down to reveal stray pussy curls whenever she moved. "Pl-please, I can't take any more of this, really. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm an artist, a serious artist, and I'm only trying to get other work so I can buy my materials! I'm not like Sheila Eamon or any other of the cheap ... cheap tramps that you're probably used to."
Barth Owens's lewd smirk broadened at the inexperienced blonde's plaintive plea, and his huge cock throbbed as he noted how her girlish nipples tautened into red little berries as her agitation increased. Instinctively, he sensed that beneath her facade of propriety, this chick had an extremely hot-blooded, cock-hungry cunt.
I wonder if her boyfriend ever got her really turned on? he ruminated as he watched her lushly rounded ass-cheeks undulating beneath the skin-tight, almost see-through panties. I bet he didn't, and I'm gonna show her a thing or two about fucking that'll get her down off that holier-than-thou pedestal.
"What's the matter, babe?" he replied to the voluptuous blonde's pleas. "Your ass is looking fantastic!"
Couldn't he just say yes, I get the job, or no, I don't? She felt like a Roman slave-girl on the block standing practically naked in front of this lecherous older man, and longed with all her heart to get back into her green shirtwaist, damp and uncomfortable though the dress was. Golly, if Jacques could see her now, he'd never forgive her!
"Yeah, you'll be just fine, just super," Barth interrupted the diffident girl's reverie. "There's only the matter of that one extra favor I mentioned before ...",
My God, what kind of favor? the innocent young blonde's brain spun dizzily at the sound of those ominous words. What on earth does he mean by that?
The artist's lewd smile broadened at the sight of the girl's obvious discomfiture. "I mean, I did you a favor, now you do me a favor," he explained, taking a step toward her as his heavily throbbing cock jerked in painful passion against the tight-fitting fabric of his pants. "I mean, if most artists had seen the way you were crying like a kid, they'd have told you to get lost. Professionals don't have time for any kid stuff. But I gave you a chance, babe, I let you show me all that you've got."
Innocent as Callie was, she knew at once what the older man meant. Oddly enough, now that the disturbing ambiguity of her situation was clarified, she felt a cold, resigned dread overtake her nervousness. Well, do I want the job badly enough? she asked herself coolly, cynically.
"You dig what I mean, babe?" the eagerly panting older man leaned toward her. "It's fair play, don't you agree?"
For a brief moment, Callie had been tempted to go along with the man's obscene bribe and let him fuck her. It was better than going back to her aunt, jobless. Besides, she hadn't been fucked in too long. But as she heard the ominous metallic sound of a zipper being yanked down and saw the handsome older man moving toward the sofa before which she stood almost naked, all thought of letting him fuck her pussy fled from her intoxicated mind. Her cunt was so hot to be fucked, but he might ... he might want to do something perverted!
"N-n-no!" she stammered through chattering teeth as she backed up against the couch and collapsed in a limp heap in its far corner. "Don't t-touch me, please! Pleeeeze! I-I have to get g-going now ... I can't let you ...",
Suddenly, a menacing transformation had changed Barth Owens's formerly friendly, kindly features into a mask of bestial lust, and as the naive young blonde stared at him, she felt as though she were about to faint. Vanished was the fatherly, kindly man whom she'd liked to think of as a benefactor, and in his place was a ruthless, animalistic monster! Oh God, and he wanted to fuck her cunt!
"Oh please ... please, you misunderstood me," Callie stammered, huddling up in the corner of the couch and feeling uncomfortably aware of her obscene outfit. "D-don't look at my titties that way! You're-you're scaring m-me!"
Barth laughed mirthlessly, menacingly. "What's there to be scared of, my dear? I'm not gonna hurt your titties, we're just gonna get to know each other real good. You're gonna love it."
"N-no, really, I have t-to be going," Callie squealed desperately as the muscular man plonked down beside her on the couch. "M-my Aunt Lizabeth . ... "
"Fuck your Aunt Lizabeth," the artist barked, his face red and vulgar with feverish lust. "This little guy here wants to make friends with you, babe. He wants to real bad!"
With these lewd words, the lust-crazed artist brandished his hugely pulsing prick in the trembling, wide-eyed girl's direction, stroking its thick foreskin back and forth to reveal the huge, lust-swollen cockhead. Then, grasping her tender-fleshed upper arm with iron-hard fingers, he dragged her beautiful, fear-distorted face close to his own.
"How about a little kiss, baby?" he leered. "A thank you kiss 'cause I gave you this fine job?"
A wave of unwanted passion swept over Callie O'Hara at the thought of letting her lips touch this lewdly excited man's mouth; she had never so much as kissed another man except Jacques, her young boyfriend, but the idea of letting a total stranger fuck her pussy so excited her that she unwillingly let out a low moan. Then, desperately, she struggled to her feet. But her knees were so weak from all the scotch she'd unwittingly consumed that she crumpled in a limp heap on the floor.
"What's the matter, honey?" Barth's voice was harsh and vulgar now, utterly devoid of his former slick, paternal intonations. You don't dig my nice big tool?"
"No!" the innocent twenty-year-old wailed. "Please ! Don't touch me! I-I'm not that kind of a girl!"
Her feverish moans only seemed to excite the lecherous older man more than ever. With a gleeful snort of lust, he ripped off his shirt and tugged his half-undone paint-splattered pants all the way off. Naked, Barth Owens was as handsome and muscular as a twenty-year-old, and a vision of Jacques's hugely throbbing cock flashed before the helpless girl's eyes. Despite herself, her pussy was hotter than ever. But she couldn't let this total stranger fuck her!
"Noooooooo! Don't touch meeeeeeee!"
The shrill female cry echoed eerily throughout the studio and Barth Owens grinned as he knew that even if Doug, his assistant, or some of the neighbors overheard her cries, they were far too used to hearing them to be alarmed.
"Shut up!" he commanded, twisting Callie's arm till she turned pale with pain. "You know damned well that your cunt's all hot and wet. Chicks like you are all the same."
"Please, please!" the naive young blonde protested, lowering her voice but continuing to resist the man's wantonly groping hand on her huge, nearly naked tit despite the violent aching in her pussy. "I d-don't want to model for you! I don't want to let you fuck my pussy!"
"Bullshit, and you know it. But it's too late anyway, baby," Barth Owens hissed, pleased that she'd lowered her voice in obedience to his commands. "Too late now! You gotta do what I say. You're gonna love it, babe; your little pussy's really gonna love it!"
No, it can't be true! Callie thought dazedly. The man's cruel face blurred before her alcohol-disoriented eyes as a swift procession of images floated before her mind's eye. First, she saw Jacques's clear-eyed, sandy-haired image, and remembered with an acute pang of pain the life of freedom and universal love that they'd planned; next, her Aunt Lizabeth's gaunt, accusing face swam through her brain, and a shudder of fearsome guilt slunk through her trembling body at the imagined sight of her aunt's condemning eyes. Although Callie had ceased to take her aunt's frenetic moral tirades seriously at about the age of fifteen, there still resided deep in her subconscious irreversible traces of turpitude whenever she committed an act contrary to the stern moral and religious doctrines imposed upon her during her developing years. Jacques had been tender and understanding and he'd never forced her to perform any obscene sexual acts that might make her feel uneasy. Now, to her horror, she recognized that she could not appeal to this older man's better nature, for he was nothing more than a lust-driven wild beast.
"Nooooooo," she wailed again, her voice poignantly hopeless as she tried desperately to squirm away from his rummaging hands.
"Shut up, I said! You're gonna love to be fucked!" the lust-crazed man growled.
Callie fell silent, though she still continued to struggle in a weak, futile way. It's all over! she thought, But at least I can keep my pride by fighting this animal off. That's the least I can do for poor Jacques sitting all alone in that dreadful prison in Greece.
Then, as the man's thick hands grasped her fearfully trembling tits in a vise-like grip and tweaked her sensitive nipples, all of Callie's thoughts vanished in a cloud of mortification tinged with the unwanted flickers of lewd excitement up in her cunt. She felt hot tears brimming at her eyelids as her sensuously throbbing tits swelled in unwanted response to the lusting artist's lecherous caresses, and, most humiliating of all, a despicable dampness was still moistening the cuntband of her white panties.
Gosh, I hope he doesn't notice that my pussy is getting wet! Callie agonized in silent despair. Oh God, this is wrong! I shouldn't want so much to have a dirty old man like him fuck my cunt!
The innocent young blonde flinched as the man's hand suddenly groped between her uselessly kicking legs to cup her indecently dampened pussy. She tried with all her might to shove him away, but that awful scotch seemed to have turned her muscles to water.
"All nice and wet like I thought!" the excited man panted, quite as though he were reading his tremulous victim's thoughts. "All ready for me, huh? All set for my big hard prick?"
The girl beneath him turned white at the obscene words, which pleased Barth immensely. He liked his chicks to put up a fight. Then suddenly, a lewdly intoxicating idea occurred to the artist.
"You ever suck cock?" he asked, feeling sure that she hadn't. "You ever take a nice hard prick in that sweet little mouth of yours?"
Callie's only reply was a helpless shudder of repugnance. Of course she'd never sucked a man's cock! Once, Jacques had suggested that it might be a pleasant variation from their normal missionary position, but when she'd objected, he'd apologized and never so much as mentioned it again.
"You filthy animal!" she whimpered. "You can't do this to me! Not that!"
Callie's last protests echoed hopelessly in her ears as the determined artist slunk down so that his muscular body was positioned between her futilely writhing legs. Despite her attempts to escape him, he pinned her down with one hairy, strong-muscled leg and trapped her in a mortifying splayed-out position on the studio couch.
"C'mon, babe, stop playin' hard to get!" Barth growled, panting as he tried to position his limbs in the obscene pattern he'd decided was appropriate to this occasion. This little stuck-up cunt was going to suck his cock, if it was the last thing he did in this fucking life!
Disregarding Callie's plaintive mewls and moans, Barth eased his torso over her fear-distorted face so that his obscenely throbbing prick hovered menacingly over her flushed cheeks and tightly compressed lips.
"Now babe!" he hissed, tangling his fingers in her long blonde hair so roughly that the frightened young girl gasped aloud in agony. "Suck it! Stick my prick right between those sweet lips of yours and suck it like it was a piece of candy!"
Scrunching her eyes shut in a vain attempt to shut out the reality of her nightmarish situation, Callie prayed with all her might for a miracle. If only he'd fuck her sex-starved pussy instead. He just couldn't fuck her in the mouth with that thing. Dear God! she implored in silent anguish. Save me from this monster! How can I ever kiss Jacques again if I let his filthy prick touch my mouth ? But even as the shuddering young artist's mind prayed for a miracle, the hugely pulsing cockhead was pressuring excitedly against her sealed lips. It seemed warm and of a smooth, rubbery texture, not cold and slimy as Callie had anticipated, but her revulsion remained as intense as before.
Then, as the ruthless artist's thumb and forefinger reached out to pinch her nostrils shut, all thought faded from the helpless blonde's mind. The most urgent human need of all, the necessity to breathe, overwhelmed her senses as she hopelessly opened her mouth to gasp for air, and in that vulnerable instant she felt his thickly pulsing cock fuck into her mouth!
"Aaaagggggghhhh," she choked out as the huge, hotly throbbing prick thrust with relentless force between her ballooning cheeks. "You can't do this! Let me goooooo!"
"Sure you can go, babe!" the man grinned in obscene triumph. "Soon as you finish sucking my dick, I'll even let you finger your hot little pussy! And every time you get the urge when you're modeling for me, you can just go ahead or prance on over and give my prick a lick. You'll like that, won't you, sweetie?"
"Nooooo! Noooooooooo!" Callie's protest burst from her impaled lips in an obscene gurgle as the hugely pulsating cock fucked its way down toward the back of her throat. "I don't waaaaannnntttt your nasty modeling job! I don't want to finger my pussy or suck your prick!" Her voice was muted, her words distorted by the lust-bloated cock filling her mouth. "Mmmmmmmppppph!"
The excited older man only laughed, a vicious, gloating cackle, but Callie scarcely heard him as a vague memory drifted through her alcohol-sated brain. One of the girls she'd known in art school, a luscious brunette, who later ran off with a woman set designer from Hollywood, had once recounted her bitter story. She'd been raped by two of her uncles and had since developed a method for resisting lust-maddened men.
"Go for their balls," the beautiful young lesbian had advised a wide-eyed Callie. "It doubles them up long enough so you can get away."
Without a moment's hesitation, the terrified blonde did exactly as her friend had advised. Her balled-up fist slammed into Barth's balls and his prick slipped from her lips as he groaned in agony.
"Aaaaaagghhhhh!" the man gasped, clutching his painfully throbbing balls. "You cunt! You fucking little cunt!"
That elusive instant was all Callie O'Hara needed to leap to her feet and race toward the door, haphazardly snatching up articles of her discarded clothing as she ran. Adrenalin surged through her bloodstream, giving her the energy to reach the exit before the groaning man had straightened his bent-over body, and hope surged through her as she grasped the doorknob, but the door was locked! Oh God, what was she going to do now!
"You stupid little bitch!" the older man raged. He stumbled to his feet with his aching groin still clutched in one hand. "Of course, it's locked. Maybe you're not so smart after all. I was planning on treating you nice, but not now. After this, you're gonna really get it, babe!"
Callie balanced as the naked man lurched unsteadily toward her. Her fingers turned white as she gripped the latched door in a frenzy of despair, and she trembled like a leaf in a gale as he advanced toward her with menacing voracity.
"I-I'm s-sorry," she stammered in acute fright, awkwardly covering her huge, nakedly billowing tits and softly curling blonde pussy hairs with her shaking hands. I ... please ... I ... ooooohhh!"
Brutal male hands clutched at her tender cunt, yanking her unwilling body against his own, and then she felt herself hurtling across the room. As she landed back on the couch, her legs spread wide, she lay naked and unprotesting in fear of enraging the man more than he already was. Her situation was utterly hopeless; she could not hope to fight off Barth Owens and would have to let him fuck his prick into her mouth if she wanted to escape from this awful place without some severe physical injury. He might even kill her if she didn't go along with his plans.
"Aaaaagggghh ...", she gagged as, once again, the naked man jerked her face toward his huge menacing cock. He was crushing her head so tightly to his obscenely pulsating cock that she could barely speak. God, it was huge!
"C'mon, babe," the artist commanded in furious impatience. "Suck my dick like I told you to the first time. Go on, do it, or you'll be goddamn sorry!"
Although her stomach was knotted with fright, Callie had no choice now but to timidly flick out her pink tongue toward the older man's angry-red cockhead, and for the first time she licked at it! It tasted salty, rather acrid, but not really unpleasant, and as she obediently lapped at the tiny pearl-like droplet of pre-cum on the tip of his throbbing prick, a thrilling, unwanted shudder of forbidden lust again coursed through her cunt.
Callie ignored the unforgivable pricklings of excitement, never dreaming that anyone, not even that Sheila Eamon, could glean pleasure from something so perverted as sucking a man's cock. Tears of humiliation trickled over Callie's flushed cheeks as she gave a last deploring glance at the total stranger who was forcing her to perform this disgusting, unnatural act.
What would Jacques think if he could see her now, she despaired, remembering the one and only time she'd seen the handsome Frenchman since he'd been unjustly thrown into prison. Even as she let her reluctant lips slide another inch over the insistently pressuring cockshaft, a vivid image of the village jail flashed before her mind's eye. Jacques had been too far away for her to touch, behind a rusty iron grating, but she'd been close enough to note that his cheeks were sunken and his skin pallid. The unshaven, nearly toothless jailer had even hinted in broken English and with obscene gestures that if she took off her blouse and held her huge naked titties real close together so that he could fuck his cock between them, that he might accidentally leave the key to Jacques's cell out on the table while he was at the taverna. She had been almost ready to unbutton her top, but Jacques had become insane with rage. Nothing was worth allowing a lecherous old man to fuck her titties! he had screamed. Later, when he had calmed down, he had made her promise to go back home to Charlotte until he could get in touch with some friends to help her.
"You'll wait for me?" he had asked, reaching his hand between the bars, trying to touch her. "You'll be true to me?"
"Oh yes, Jacques! Oh yes!" she'd cried. "I love you, and only you!"
And now, less than two weeks later, she was sprawled on a couch in a dreadful artist's studio, allowing him to fuck his huge, mouthwatering prick between her lips. It was revolting, unforgivably wanton, but what could she do? The door was locked and the man was far stronger than she was. There was absolutely no escape!
"C'mon, bitch!" Barth Owens growled. "Suck it good, ya hear. Suck it till my cum explodes in your sweet little mouth!"
A black cloud of abject degradation descended over Callie O'Hara's alcohol-and lust-dazed brain as the ruthless older man's heavily throbbing cock suddenly fucked deep down into her vainly contracting throat. Her wetly ovaled mouth was completely filled with heatedly throbbing cock, and the man's horrid, hugely fucking prick seemed to harden and swell even more as she tried in vain to pull her mouth away.
"Suck it good, cutie!" the passion-crazed artist croaked. His fingers dug roughly into her disheveled hair, pulling her fear-distorted face even closer to his lewdly impaling prick. "Use that hot little tongue of yours to clean old dickie!"
Though Callie tried to keep her tongue from touching the obscenely erect cock, the desire-driven hardness seemed to grow harder and swell within the confines of her stretched and aching cheeks. Yet, since she was afraid of what the brutal older man might do if she appeared unwilling to comply with his corrupt demands, she finally touched her tongue to the throbbing head of his huge, obscenely excited prick.
"Wow!" Barth Owens exclaimed, as he snapped his pelvis forward to ram his fully erected hardness further down into the helpless young blonde's mouth. "That's the way! Lick it clean, baby. Suck it. Yeah man, you sure do know how to give a blow job!"
This can't be happening, the girl's mind wailed. It's too disgusting to be true. But even as this thought floated through her scotch-clouded consciousness, the huge fitted young artist was automatically swirling her small pink tongue round and round the older man's rubbery-textured foreskin. She felt as though she would faint from the combination of fear, discomfort, and moral disgust, but nevertheless she continued to nibble at his huge, relentlessly fucking cock. As his hot pre-cum juices flowed into her wantonly sucking mouth, she felt another wave of nausea wash over her near-naked young body.
The huge lust-swollen cockhead seemed to grow ever longer and thicker until Callie feared it would actually choke her to death. Suddenly a horrifying thought flashed through her mind: Oh my God, he's going to cum in my mouth! He's going to cum in my mouth!
Callie's nakedly spread ass-cheeks tensed and her warm wet mouth froze in paralyzed panic around the older man's lewdly invading prick. The very thought of swallowing disgusting male cum was thoroughly repugnant, but there was nothing she could do except to keep sucking and licking at the man's obscenely throbbing prick with her unwilling lips.
With every punishing stroke, Barth Owens fucked deeper into the helpless girl's virgin mouth. The velvet-soft moisture of her involuntarily clasping lips, soft and warm as melted butter, was driving him insane, and he knew that he couldn't hold back his pent-up cum for much longer. Much as he would have liked to prolong the stuck-up little bitch's torture, his painfully jerking balls were churning with an intolerable pressure which would, any minute now, explode down his wildly jerking cock and splash all over the prick-teasing blonde's throat and face. Jesus, he could hardly stand it any more! At the intoxicating vision of prissy little Miss Callie O'Hara spattered with his searing, white-hot cum, the egotistic artist let out a bellow of conquering triumph and fucked his saliva-coated cock harder and wilder than ever in and out of Callie's aching throat.
Blackness studded with multicolored stars swam before her eyes as she struggled to breathe without choking on the viciously fucking prick, and all thoughts of shame or modesty fled from her pain-disoriented brain. Oh God, I have to end this before he chokes me on his horrible prick, her tortured mind screamed as she sucked the hugely impaling cock as though she'd been performing the lewd act for years. Her aching cheeks suctioned the lust-swollen prick, and some unconscious instinct told her to simultaneously tease her tongue along the excitedly fucking hardness. Oddly enough, as she manipulated the rubbery foreskin and ran her tongue along the heavily veined underside of the older man's ever-swelling cock, a strange masochistic excitement once again began to tingle in the hot juicy walls of her cunt.
Oh God! No! she shuddered, shocked to find that the unwanted pussy juices were once again dampening the cuntband of the brief white panties. What's wrong with me? Has this awful man turned me into a whore?
Yet even as guilty self-accusations flooded into the half-intoxicated blonde's careening consciousness, she found her trembling hands reaching out to grasp the sparsely-haired sacs of the older man's sensuously dangling balls, which had been slapping obscenely against her face. They felt velvet-soft and excitingly alive, and Callie's traitorous pussy felt on fire with unwanted sensations of arousal.
"That's the way, baby!" Barth Owens gasped excitedly, shoving her head closer against his ready-to-explode cock and fucking into her clasping throat with rampaging fury. "Suck it real good, you little slut. like that ... aaaagghhhh ... aaaaahhhhha ... ahhhhhhh!"
Am I really a whore? the young girl's mind spun dizzily as she squeezed the man's cum-laden balls and ran her tingling tongue over the little glans opening in his blood-bloated cockhead. I must be. Oh, God help me! I'm really nothing but a sick, perverted slut.
"Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh ... now. I'm cuuuuummming in your sweet little mouth. Aaaaarrgghh, suck, suck it baby."
The naked man's loud cry broke through Callie's troubled reverie, and then she tensed in disbelieving horror as hot jets of sperm splashed against the back of her throat. He was really cumming in her mouth! It was the most depraved thing she could imagine, but somehow, she'd been foolish enough to hope that even this inhuman monster would at least take his prick out of her mouth and spew his vile cum over her body.
For a few tortured seconds, the disgusted girl tried to resist swallowing the burning hot cum, but at last she was forced to gulp it down to keep from gagging. Her cheeks ballooned out as her entire mouth was filled with stream after stream of thick, acrid-tasting cum, and her Adam's apple bobbed up and down in her swan-like white throat. Beads of perspiration broke out on her smooth forehead as the blissfully groaning artist kept her tousled blonde head pinned to his huge, lewdly spasming prick, forcing her to swallow every searing droplet of his gushing outflow of life-giving cum until the inexperienced twenty-year-old thought she would drown. For a seeming eternity, Barth Owens's wildly cumming cock continued to jerk excitedly between the voluptuous blonde's straining, cum-slickened lips.
Forcing a naive young chick to satisfy his sexual craving always gave the sadistic artist an especially powerful cum, one that went on and on in continuing waves of pure physical release. At last, much to the cum-spattered girl's relief, his oversized cock began to pump more slowly, then deflate to the size of a limp balloon, and with a grunt of satiated lust, he pushed her face away from him and collapsed back against the couch panting with pure exhaustion.
Callie O'Hara's glazed green eyes focused on the heavily breathing naked man for an instant before she crawled off the sofa and began scuttling around retrieving her discarded clothing. With fingers that shook so badly she could barely unfasten her outfit's intricate buttons and laces, she tore off the lewd costume and hurried into her own dress and modest white underwear. Luckily, the older man, whose cum was drying in sticky strands on the horrified girl's chin and cheeks, seemed to be more or less unconscious and took no notice.
Even though her dress was still damp from the rain, the degraded young blonde was unaware of any discomfort in her haste to escape from the scene of her downfall. Gingerly scrubbing at her cum-spattered face with the back of her hand, she backed cautiously toward the spot where Barth's discarded pants lay in a heap on the studio floor. There must be keys in one of his pockets; she could open the door and escape from this awful place, if only he didn't wake up and catch her first. But for the first time that day, luck was with Callie O'Hara. Her trembling fingers found the keys in the first pocket she tried, and she'd tiptoed all the way to the door, scarcely daring to breathe, before the man opened his bloodshot eyes and glowered at her.
"Where'ya headed for, baby?" he sneered with a vulgar, intimate smirk. "Didn't your Aunt Lizabeth ever teach you any manners? It's not polite to eat and run." Barth Owens half-raised his naked muscular body to a sitting position, but by then Callie was halfway through the door. A loud, obscene laugh broke from his lips as he watched her slender figure fleeing, her smoothly curved ass-cheeks undulating provocatively beneath her damply clinging dress as she ran down the hallway toward the door.
"Fantastic head-job, kiddo," he called out after her. "You can start modeling for me tomorrow morning! And I got some friends who might be interested. We could show you some things that are even more fun than cocksucking!"
Anger swelled beneath Callie's hugely trembling tits at the sound of the unscrupulous artist's vulgar words.
The nerve of him! As if she'd ever so much as set foot within a block of his studio of sin again. But though she longed to fling back a retort, her throat was so choked with tears and cum that she could not speak.
It had stopped raining outside, and it had grown dark while she was locked in Barth's studio. On the corner of the block, a gang of seedy looking youths with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths stared hungrily at the huge-titted young blonde who was running wildly along East Trade, and Callie shuddered as crude comments and wolf whistles greeted her in the gathering darkness.
"What's the rush, girlie? Your cunt on fire?"
"Wanna tickle my prick till it spits, blondie?"
Other eyes, both curious and lecherous turned toward the tearful young beauty, but Callie O'Hara was almost oblivious to them. Her mind was a black pool of misery as obscene images of Barth Owens's hugely throbbing cock played before her big green eyes, and she could still taste the obscene, searingly pungent cum he had shot deep into her virginal throat. Her whole mouth ached from the brutal mouthfucking, and she felt dirtier than she had ever felt before in her entire life.
Worst of all, the thought which kept the tears brimming up again and again in her shock-widened eyes was the disgraceful way her own pussy had reacted while she was sucking and licking on his huge, deeply fucking cock. And her cunt had actually been on fire! Only the most despicable, vile sort of slut's cunt would become so hot!
CHAPTER THREE
Callie let herself drop exhaustedly onto the stool in front of the vanity table in her room. She looked into the glass and saw herself, amazed at the outward innocence still radiating from her lovely youthful face. She leaned nearer and looked more closely, thinking she could see the inner depravity somewhere deep in her sea-green eyes, but she realized suddenly that the only difference was to be found deep in her soul.
God! she thought, her pussy had gotten so hot while that awful Barth Owens had fucked his cock in and out of her mouth, nearly choking her as his huge balls slapped again and again against her face. Callie blushed as she thought of him looking down at her lewdly sucking mouth, noisily licking his wildly jerking prick ... she must have looked like the whore that she was!
For a moment she sat staring at her reflection in the mirror, letting the day's traumatic-and perversely exciting-events play through her memory as she ran her tongue over her bruised lips. Her aching cunt burned on the stool where she was sitting and slowly, ever so slowly, she slipped the hem of her dress all the way up one tapered long leg to massage and calm her soft, curl-rimmed pussy. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten into her Aunt Lizabeth's port wine. She had drunk nearly the whole bottle before coming upstairs to calm her nerves ... and now she didn't think she could control herself!
She was suddenly so excited by her own lewdly probing fingers that she saw in the mirror her face was undergoing a change. Her full lips were parted slightly as her breathing became heavier, and her eyes seemed heavy-lidded and sexy. She knew then what Jacques, and all the other men she had ever known saw in her and why their cocks rose up in lusting fury,' eager and begging to fuck into her hungry young pussy-hole. She would feel the same way if she were a man. Callie imagined for a moment what it would be like, and she mercilessly forced two stiffened fingers around the straining cuntband of her white panties and fucked them brutally up into her still unsatisfied pussy.
"Ooohhh! Ooohhh ... ooohhhhh!" she moaned excitedly as a maddening wave of desire to be fucked by a real cock again flowed through her hungry cunt. And, at that very moment, her bedroom door clicked open, and she opened her eyes to see Sheila Eamon's little brother's glinting lustfully at hers in the mirror!
"Sonofabitch!" the boy exclaimed excitedly. "I've watched Sheila play with her pussy plenty of times, but crap, I never thought a chick like you would!"
"What ... what are you doing here in my room?" Callie gasped.
"Well, Sheila and me saw you coming into the house, and she sent me over-her not feeling too good and all-and when nobody answered, I just came on up," the boy answered huskily. "She wanted to find out how you made out with that artist guy. I guess not too good, huh, seeing that your pussy's all hot and everything," he continued, locking the door behind him and unzipping the fly on his jeans.
Even before his young cock and sensuously jerking balls were freed from his pants, sheer animal lust was beginning to stiffen it, and he brandished it gleefully as he walked toward Callie where she sat in front of the mirror, aghast that the boy had caught her playing with her cunt. But the sight of his excited male cock jerking and throbbing to life sent a flare of hot passion racing through her cunt, and her fingers were suddenly sopping wet from her own lewdly flowing pussy juices.
"I ... I don't understand ...",
"The name's Tommy, in case you've forgotten. I haven't forgotten you, though!" the boy leered. "Man, me and my buddies used to sit in my room-it's right across from yours," he motioned toward the window," and watch you get all naked before you went to bed. Man, that was something!"
"M-my aunt is home, and she'll hear you and call the police!" Callie stammered.
"Ah, bullshit ... the old bag is out with my old lady at the church. They've both got the hots for the choir director and they'll be sitting on the hard old wooden benches rubbing their twats for a long time yet, just like you are. We got plenty of time to get in a quickie."
"Oh, God, you're ... you're despicable!" the trapped young blonde cried in her drunken haze. Then, suddenly, the boy grabbed her soft upper arm, and though he was not much bigger than she, managed to pull her from the stool, smashing his mouth with hers, putting her fingers, dripping with her pussy juices, around his now fully erect young cock. His tongue lashed snake-like into the warm moist cavern of her mouth until he felt her huge ecstatically pulsing tits press wantonly against his chest, and she began slipping the loose skin of his lewdly pulsing prick up and down, up and down, squeezing his young, cum-laden balls at the bottom. Oh crap, oh crap, holy crap, Sheila was right. The chick is hotter than a bitch! Then he sucked his lips away from hers and said, growlingly, "How do you want it, Callie, suck or fuck?" His young wickedly glaring eyes fell onto her huge nearly exposed tits where they mounded fleshily up out of her partially unbuttoned dress.
"I-I-I've got to relax, have another drink, Tommy. Wait until ...",
"Bullshit," he hissed. "Strip off that dress before you get it ripped." He thrust his fingers into the crevice between her softly trembling tits and tugged forcefully at the dress.
"Wait!" she cried, afraid he would tear the material. It was practically the only nice dress she owned. "Wait, I-I'll take it off." She put her hands to work unfastening the buttons in the front while he insinuated his fingers further down into the front of her dress and located an erecting nipple, pinching it gleefully between his index and middle fingers.
Then the dress was folded on the back of a chair, and she stood before him with her huge, trembling tits billowing over the top of her white bra, the pink buds of her hardened nipples set in the brown-red circles of her areolas like flower centers. Down below, covering her tufted blonde pussy-hairs, she wore only matching white bikini panties.
Jeez, what a cunt this chick has! Tommy thought to himself, admiring the long, shapely whiteness of her thighs, his eyes running over the firmness of her belly, the curving narrowness of her waist and on up to the ripe fruits of her sensuously quivering tits. I would like to look at her, and fuck her, and eat her all at the same time. She's got to be the hottest piece of pussy I've ever seen.
"Just stand in front of the mirror and do what you were doing," he ordered, "and I won't tell your aunt."
"Wha-what?" Callie asked incredulously.
"Stand in front of the mirror and finger-fuck your pussy for me!" He spat out the words and grasped a handful of the smooth, warm flesh of her ass-cheeks. "Do it!"
Looking at the boy's large-knuckled hand slipping the skin up and down on his thickening cock in the mirror, she slid her right hand over the white smoothness of her belly and under the elastic of her thin, clinging bikini pants and found her quivering, erect clitoris bathed in her own cunt juices.
Tommy's left hand roughly caressed the smoothly curved flesh of her ass-cheeks, his prying fingers edging under the elastic waistband of her panties, his stiffly extended middle finger slipping down between the crevice of the whitely trembling cheeks of her ass to tickle the hot, puckering ass-hole hidden in the fleshy tightness.
Callie stared fascinated at his bulging young balls hanging under his huge cock, and could hardly believe that a boy his age could have such a huge prick-it seemed impossible. How could she take that enormous hardness into her own tiny cunthole? Callie began swaying her smoothly curved ass as her fingers became hot and slippery in her cunt-slit, and she felt his finger move slidingly in the wet space between her firm white ass-cheeks just touching teasingly at the tiny puckered opening of her ass-hole. The thrilling sensation back there sent new ripples of excitement into the obscenely erect nipples of her softly quivering titties and down into the inner walls of her fiery, moist pussy.
Then his hand pulled her panties down over the fullness of her trembling ass, and she felt the air from the open window cooling her perspiring flesh and gusting between her taut thighs as he inserted his fingers between them, forcing her to spread her feet on the floor to let him through. The precocious boy dipped his probing finger in the flowing juices of her cunt-slit from beneath and tantalizingly swirled it around the curl-rimmed cunt before jamming it into the hot juicy walls of her pussy up to the first knuckle. Then he backed it out, circling the fingertip in the hotly dripping fluid and sliding it back over the bridge to her cringing little ass-hole.
Then, smearing her own pussy juices down on the fearfully twisting ass-hole to lubricate it, Tommy poised his fingertip at the verge of the small, helplessly quivering opening and pushed relentlessly, despite her recoiling movement, until his finger popped through her tiny, vainly resisting ass-hole, twisting it deep up inside the tightly clenching walls of her ass until she started to relax back onto his lewdly invading finger and swiveled her hips lasciviously downward, bringing him into her farther.
"Aaaaaaaaghhhh!" she moaned drunkenly. Soon her vulnerable young ass-hole was sluicing eagerly up and down on his jutting finger like a virgin's pussy, and he pulled his hand back and rammed it mercilessly all the way up into her until his doubled fist struck the succulent softness of her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks with a resounding, fleshy smacking noise.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! That hurts!" she groaned again, her beautiful face contorted in the mirror. The boy had his finger slightly hooked up inside her tight-ringed ass-hole so that she could not escape his lewdly impaling finger, and Sheila's brother grinned crookedly at her reflection.
"That ain't nothing but a little finger," he jeered. "Wait till you feel this reaming you out." He pulled the loose skin all the way back from the cum-dripping head of his prick and shook it threateningly at her in the mirror. She opened her big green eyes in fright.
"Ohhh! Ooohhh! You can't, Tommy," she mewled. "That's t-toooo big to get in me there." She could tell by the look on his face that he meant to fuck her in her ass with it, and shivers of fear ran through her young body.
"Nah, I done it plenty of times to Carol Harper, and she said it felt real good ...", He taunted her and began grinding his finger deeper in and out of her widely stretched little ass-hole, coming out to the first joint, then sliding back slowly till his fingers felt her smooth, jouncing ass-cheeks against them again.
Soon she was answering his movement as her unprotected little ass-hole became accustomed to the thickness of his finger, and she felt the delicate peak of her clitoris tingling, sending out delicious feelings to all of her shattered nerve endings. She was shamelessly enjoying it!
"All right," Tommy's excited voice interrupted her thoughts gruffly, "wet it!"
"Wh-what?"
"You heard me," he said, lewdly grinding his fingertip into her ass-hole. "Take my dick in your mouth and suck it." Without taking his finger from her defenseless little ass-hole, he turned her around and pressed her head down sideways so that she could take its cum-beaded head into her mouth.
Callie hesitated a moment, and then closing her eyes, fastened her full pink lips on the exciting jerking tip of his prick, licking her tongue into the slowly seeping slit at the end as she felt it slipping up inside until the cockhead passed her teeth, seemingly filling her prick-bloated cheeks to bursting! She nibbled teasingly with the sharp edges of her front teeth around the pulsing, velvet-smooth head.
"Ahhhhhhhhh! That's it. Suck it good, really slop it up, and maybe it won't hurt so much when I fuck this aching dick of mine up into your hot little ass-hole." He moaned in ecstasy as she practiced her newly learned cocksucking on his throbbing young prick, and she hoped in her alcohol-clouded mind that he would decide to come in her mouth instead of up in her ass-hole. He would split her ass-hole apart with that huge prick of his! But in spite of her fear, she felt her hungrily tingling pussy filling with lubricating cunt juices and redoubled her lewd, rapid fingering of her wildly excited little clitoris. Her cunt desperately cried out to suck up around a pussy-hungering cock, and she vigorously ground the curvaceous cheeks of her ass back against the deeply reaming finger in her ass-hole, matching the boy's strokes one-for-one with the noisy, wet mouthsucking she was giving his still-expanding young prick.
"Ooohhh! Ooohhh!" Tommy repeated over and over as she slaved on his hugely throbbing cock. "Callie, you're one hell of a cocksucker! Oh, Jeez, lick it like that!"
Tommy watched her in the mirror, her enormous tits bobbing lusciously, her beautiful, innocent-looking face sluicing his huge prick over his bulging, sensuously throbbing balls, his finger lewdly appearing and disappearing as he fucked it in and out of her ass-hole. And crap, was she ever fingering that juice-dripping pussy of hers. It felt like his goddamned balls were going to explode!
"Stop!" he said, pulling his throbbing, almost cumming prick out of her mouth. "Lean your face and tits down on your stool. I'm going to fuck you from behind now."
Callie's legs quivered with intense excitement as she did what she was told. Her soft, whitely trembling ass was raised high, completely exposed to the boy's lusting gaze. She could see his hungrily shining eyes in the mirror as he moved into position behind her, his finger flicking quickly out of her tiny ass-hole. Oh, God, it must be Aunt Lizabeth's wine! What had gotten into her? How could her pussy be so excited, how could she even think of letting Sheila's nasty little brother fuck her in her ass-hole?
Holding the girth of his eagerly jerking cock in his right hand, Tommy rubbed it up inside her hotly quivering pussy, the head spreading the trembling lips of her burning pussy to a thin, hotly sucking circle of soft pussy hair throbbing around its smooth rubbery surface.
"Aaaahhh!" The boy's cockhead made her cry out, her face contorted in the mirror, and she secretly hoped that he would fuck it all the way into her hungrily needing cunthole instead of her unprotected little ass. Callie tried to edge back onto its heavily jerking hardness.
"Hang on, I just want to get it good and juicy," Tommy said, making short, lubricating jabs into her nakedly spread pussy.
"Aggh! Agggh!" It was so big. It seemed to be stretching her little cunthole far enough to split her wide open!
Then, his huge cunt-splitting cockhead slipped up into her pussylips with a soft wet popping sound and he grabbed her smoothly curved ass and held her in place, suddenly tightening the muscles of his back and fucking his thickly pulsing cock relentlessly up into her tightly resisting cunthole.
"Ugggh! Ugggh!" he groaned behind her and fucked stiffly inward through the wetly giving walls of her hungrily churning pussy until it pounded heavily back into her vagina, his cum-swollen balls rubbing against the soft, creamy insides of her trembling thighs.
"Oh, my God! You're killing me!" Callie shouted, her face turning beet red. "Agggggg-ggh! Don't move! Don't move it!" She screamed, feeling the ragged insides of her wide-stretched cunt hugging the full length of the boy's plundering cock. She was hopelessly skewered on his excitedly pulsing young prick, and he mercilessly held her tightly against his kinky pubic hair as he flexed the muscles of his ass-cheeks, jerking his lust-hardened cock deep up inside her cunt, gaining another half an inch of penetration.
Callie felt her own cunt juices begin to flow in around his prick, softening the effects of his painful in-fucks into her pussy. Then she felt Tommy retreating from her, the tightly gripping muscles of her cunt snapping her pussy walls together behind the receding prick.
Finally she felt the ridge of the throbbing cockhead pull at the tender curl-rimmed lips of her searingly hot pussy, and his huge prick came out with a quick, sucking little pop. Callie felt its now pussy juice-slick tip slide up the narrow crevice between her ivory white ass-cheeks and come to rest at the tiny puckered opening of her ass-hole.
"My prick's about to explode," the boy croaked hoarsely. "I've got to get into your cherry little ass-hole." Tommy tightened his pussy-exciting fingers on the trembling white flesh of her ass and nudged the lewdly throbbing head of his cock at the tiny, helplessly cringing opening, parting the defensively puckering little ring just slightly.
Until now, Callie had not believed it was going to happen. It was impossible for a prick to fit into her never-before-fucked ass-hole! He would tear her apart!
"Tommy, please don't! It's too big! You can't ... Aggggggggh!"
The boy fucked the pussy-lubricated cock uncaringly into the recoiling little ass-hole as it spread open painfully around his bulging cock, sending it in almost to the scalloped lip of the head.
"Ooohhh! Arrrrrgh! Don't. Don't! No more." Callie groaned helplessly, pinned by his digging fingers onto his savagely piercing prick.
"That's it, baby. Make a lot of noise. Carol always does and it makes my balls feel real good!" He taunted her, watching her pain-contorted face in the mirror as her tightly gripping ass-hole tried to adjust to his obscene assault. "Jeez, you're all tight and hairless back here. This is going to be a fantastic ass-fuck!" he exclaimed, forcing his prick farther into the tiny, puckered ass-hole, until the head of his cock disappeared up inside her ass and the elastic outer lips of her rectum snapped shut over the smaller circumference of his excitedly throbbing cock.
"Aaaaaaarrgghhh! Arrrggghhhh! Oh God, I can't take any more of it. I-It feels good," she moaned, feeling the tight rigid walls of her ass-hole sliced wide by the boy's barely inserted cock. "But it hurts! Fuck my pussy instead." she pleaded.
"Just keep begging me not to fuck it; I love it," Tommy said, at the same time pulling her nakedly quivering ass-cheeks back harder toward him and shafting still deeper into her. Over half of his cock was inside now, and he braced himself for a final, spearing in-fuck into the older girl's tortured ass-hole.
Tommy drew back and using all of his strength rammed as hard as he could into her ripping ass-hole, riding in all the way until he felt his cum-laden balls smack heavily into the searing hot moistness of her pussy below.
"Aaaaaaaarrrgghhh! Don't move, don't move!" Callie stood on tiptoe to escape the raging fire she felt where his deeply fucking cock had rammed its way into her tiny, wide-stretched ass-hole. She could feel the stiff, rock-hard prick like a hot poker inside her ass-hole and she opened her eyes wide with the pain and saw her beautiful lust-and pain-contorted face in the mirror, her mouth grimacing, baring her white teeth between tautly-stretched lips, her nostrils dilated as she gasped for breath.
The neighbor boy left his throbbing prick locked into place, waiting for her to relax and adjust her ass-hole to his presence.
Crap, he thought, she's the tightest ass-fuck
I've ever had! It feels like she's going to squeeze my goddamned dick off inside her if she doesn't relax. Soon however the tension lifted a little, and he jerked his bulging splitting cock in the room he now had to move.
"Nooooooooo! Don't!" Callie begged him.
Holding her fixed on his young hotly slithering hardness, Tommy began a gentle fucking motion up inside her, feeling the spongily clinging ridges of her ass walls rubbing almost painfully over the rigid length of his hugely intruding cock. Back and forth he thrust slowly, increasing the distance each time as she moaned excitedly before him, and finally he felt an answering movement as she suddenly twitched her firm, creamy young ass-cheeks in answer and ground them back against him. Her face gradually changed from a tortured mask of innocence to one of raw animal passion, her sensuous lips stretched around her protruding, licking tongue, and her groans of protest became grunts of obscene pleasure.
"That's it, blondie, slide your hot little ass-hole right on back." She was lewdly rotating her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks back against him now as she rode shamelessly up and down his heavily throbbing young cock, her face wanton and abandoned, her eyes closed now as she concentrated on the lewdly rising sensations in her quick-moving ass, and she reached down with one hand between her open thighs and fondled her quivering erect clitoris again as she felt the rising tide of her excitement flow through her passionately quivering cunt.
My God, she thought, the boy's fucking me in my ass and watching me finger fuck my pussy at the same time! Bu-but I like it! It's evil and wicked, and I don't care. I love the feel of his cock inside me. It's good. Ooooooh God, it's g-good!
Tommy felt her resistance fall away as she mewled softly, open mouthed, and skewered herself obscenely back onto the boy's heavily plunging prick. And he fucked into her ass faster and faster, ogling her sexily bouncing ass-cheeks and the reflection of her huge, rhythmically dancing tits in the mirror. Her own hand was lewdly delving into the soft, curl-rimmed folds of her cunt, worming two fingers deep up into her hotly squirming pussy, wildly flicking the inflamed, upright clitoris as she caused wet sloshing, sucking sounds to emanate lewdly from her burning cunt.
Callie opened her eyes enough to watch in the mirror as she lasciviously ground her sensuously rounded ass-cheeks around on the boy's heavily impaling cock. Oh, God, my titties are almost as swollen as Tommy's balls, and I can see the hair of my pussy as my cunt nibbles on my hand. Oh, God, it looks like it's trying to swallow my fingers, and he's watching me enjoy him fucking my ass with his prick. "Ohhhhhhh, God," she squealed at the lewdness of her thoughts, "fuck me. Fuck me in the ass! I'm going to cum!"
Callie felt the tidal wave of sensation begin slowly in the deep, remote fibers of her body and rush wildly toward the central point of her gushing cunt. As the lewd, orgasmic spasms began storming through her veins, she wildly thrashed and threw her naked ass-cheeks back at his relentlessly fucking cock, her teeth bared, her breath coming hard and fast.
"Ooohhh! Oooohhhh! Oooohhh!" she cried wantonly, feeling at the same time her pussy flooding hot juices over her hand. "Fuck your cock in my ass. I'm cummmmmmmmmm-ming! I'm cumming. Oooohhh!"
Tommy felt the uncontrollable spurts begin pumping out from deep in his heavily throbbing balls as he felt her eagerly devouring the whole of his cock far up into the hidden depths of her ass-hole, and he grunted like a young bull, slapping his hands down onto her shoulders and crashing his exploding cock brutally into the swiveling white flesh of her uncontrollably jerking ass-cheeks.
"Jeez, holy shit ... I'm cumming ... you hot-assed little bitch! My prick's cumming up your ass. Milk my balls and finger your cunt! Aaaaarrrrrgggg. I'm cummmmmmmmming! Aaaaaaarrrggggh!"
Tommy lurched forward with one final, ass-flattening smack against the nakedly upturned cheeks of her ass and held his cum-spewing cock all the way up in, her hotly milking fingers on his rapidly emptying balls sending the dashing spurts of hot cum flooding deeper and deeper into her hungrily devouring ass-hole. Her mouth was open wide, hissing out her passion. "Yessssss. Oh God, yessss. Tommy, shoot your cum up my ass, shoot your cum up my ass-hole! Aaaaii!"
Finally the mind-blowing spasms slowed and stopped. His young prick slowly deflated inside her still hungry ass and she released his now cum-drained balls as he pulled his wetly drenched cock out with a lewd plopping sound, watching the thin white trails of his warmly escaping cum trickling out through her forever-stretched ass-hole to run slowly and obscenely down her creamy inner thighs.
Callie swayed in front of the dresser, dazed and used, unable to move, still savoring the obscenely exciting sensations in her voluptuous young cunt. She seemed to be humming deep in her throat, bent over, flushing hotly in front of Tommy as he wiped the cum and pussy juices off his now softly dangling cock and stuffed it back into his shorts, pulling on his jeans, zipping his fly with a quick movement.
"Thanks a lot, Callie," he said hoarsely. "I really dug that." He stepped to the door and started to open it, then he looked back at Callie still hunched down over the dresser. "I forgot. When I came in from downstairs this was on the kitchen table. It's for you." He had taken the envelope out of his back pocket, and he threw it on the bed, opened the door, and strode off arrogantly.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning Callie awakened early enough to see a crimson and gold sunrise staining the sky through her open bedroom window.
It was going to be a nice day, for already the sky was starting to turn a clear, cloudless blue. Callie stood there for a moment watching the street lights go out one by one, considering her problems with a calm determination. Yesterday's exciting but despicable events had faded after a long, very hot shower, and luckily, Aunt Lizabeth had remained away from home long enough for her to sober up and get her confused mind sorted out. She had had a good eight hours of sleep, and though her situation was as desperate as ever, she now felt capable of facing the future. Never again would she allow herself to sink so low as she had the day before, she vowed.
Quickly jumping up and making her bed, the young artist considered the options open to her. After her totally unpromising job hunt of the previous day, she had little hope of finding employment here in Charlotte. Also, she didn't think she could bear staying with her aunt very much longer, or living next door to young Tommy Eamon. But what could she do? Wasn't there anyone else she could turn to?
Since she'd been kept from dating and attending high school functions by her strict aunt, Callie had no real friends from that time, certainly no one she could turn to for help at a time like this. Her parents were long dead, and Callie knew her only other living relatives were an uncle on her father's side, who was a hopeless alcoholic, his son, and his daughter, who had run away from home at an early age and was rumored to be living in Florida with a wealthy older man.
There's no one else, Callie sighed. I'm all alone in the world!
There seemed no alternative to trying once again to find a job here in Charlotte. Surely, surely there must be something a healthy, willing young girl could do to earn money.
Sighing again, Callie unzipped her battered plaid suitcase and stared at her meager wardrobe. Aunt Lizabeth had donated all of the clothes Callie had left behind when she had run off to Greece with Jacques to the church. Today, she decided, she'd wear something less revealing than yesterday's dress. Maybe she'd unconsciously provoked Barth Owens's animalistic attack.
Pulling her modest white nightie over her shapely naked body, she stood shivering in the unheated room as she rummaged through the suitcase. Her nipples tautened into two puckered pink buttons in the chill morning air, and the tingling sensations that pulsed through the innocent young blonde's proud, softly jiggling tits made her remember the obscene way she had finger-fucked her pussy while Sheila's little brother had fucked her ass-hole. Quickly she snatched at her longest skirt and loosest pullover, a relic from high school days, plus the bra that did the most to try to hide her huge sensuous titties.
Suddenly her eyes spotted the wrinkled envelope Tommy had thrown on the bed the day before as he was leaving. She had forgotten all about it in her drunken shame. Picking it up, she stared at it blankly, still absorbed in her worries about the day's forthcoming job hunt, but then a slow smile spread over her beautiful heart-shaped face and a joyful little cry burst from her lips.
"Jacques must have gotten in touch with her," she cried aloud, ripping the envelope. Bridget, his sister! But why was the letter postmarked from Edgarstown, Massachusetts? The last she knew, Jacques had said she was living in Paris.
"Here's two hundred dollars," the letter read, and Callie's big green eyes grew wide. "When you get tired of being a starving young artist, why don't you come up for a visit? Nick and I are living in a lovely home on Martha's Vineyard. Nick's busy painting for his one-man show this fall in New York. Take the money and come; we're looking forward to seeing you soon. Love, Bridget and Nick."
The half-naked blonde's eyes sparkled hopefully for the first time in over a week as she stood reading the letter over and over and thinking about what Jacques had told her of his younger sister, Bridget, and her boyfriend. He was apparently very well off, she recalled, having inherited a fortune from his father.
"Bridget is great," her brother had said. "Kind of a sex-kitten type, doesn't like art or music and all, but a real good gal. And her old man's outasight: rich, and a damned good artist."
Callie's hands trembled with excitement and tears of joy sparkled in her eyes. She was so overjoyed that she scarcely noticed that her Aunt Lizabeth had walked into the room.
Only when the older woman snatched the postal order from her hands did she look up and explain that she was going to visit some friends, whose existence she'd not wanted to mention before now. As it turned out, Callie ended up by giving her parsimonious aunt thirty dollars for "room and board."
The next afternoon, in the midst of another violent rainstorm, the fair-haired twenty-year-old caught a Greyhound bus for New Bedford, Massachusetts. From there she would take the ferry to Martha's Vineyard. Her stomach rumbling from hunger, relief, and excitement, the voluptuous blonde unwrapped a Snickers bar she had bought from a machine at the depot and bit hungrily into it. The candy bar tasted stale, but Callie O'Hara couldn't have cared less as she sat happily peering out the window. She offered the rest of it to a well-scrubbed five-year-old boy who was holding onto his crotch and squirming in the seat next to her. He said his name was John Bowles, he was on his way to visit his grandmother Simpson, and he had to pee really bad. The Snickers bar seemed to keep him from wiggling too much and as he munched on it happily, the voluptuous green-eyed blonde stared out the dusty bus window, her pussy tingling, totally oblivious to the interested backward glances of an older man sitting in the seat ahead of her, excited at the prospect of starting a new life, and blissfully unaware of just how new and different her life would be in the next few weeks.
At the same moment that Callie O'Hara was dreaming of her new life, petite, raven-haired Bridget Lamothe was yawning and stretching beneath the satin sheets of the giant double bed she shared with her lover. Nick was already gone, she noticed sleepily, then she cuddled back down under the blanket and tried to fall back into her lost dream. She'd been stripping naked in front of an audience of excited men who were calling out provocative obscenities, and she had finally become so excited she had pulled one of the men up on stage and let him fuck her in front of everyone. Oh, what a marvelous dream it had been! If only she could fall back into it.
But try as she would, sleep eluded the voluptuous French girl. Finally, sighing with resignation, she dragged her voluptuous twenty-two-year-old body from beneath the warm coverlet and made her way to the mirrored bathroom.
I understand that Nick is a creative person, the curvaceous brunette told herself as she soaped beneath her huge naked tits under the hot shower. It was, she well knew, the best bathroom in all of Martha's Vineyard. And I'm so lucky to be living with him, her thoughts continued as she delicately sponged away the encrusted white cum which clung to her smoothly curved ass and darkly curling pussy hairs, and he's a real lover! At night. In the daytime, it's paint, paint, paint!
Bridget Lamothe had an almost insatiable cunt and so was often annoyed when Nick wasn't always around to fuck her pussy any time she got hot, but the voluptuous French girl was prone to excuse her boyfriend's often maddening habits by telling herself that anyone who was so creative was bound to be a bit imperious and neglectful of normal niceties such as tact and consideration for society's various petty rules. Of course, he wanted to be first in all things, needed to be king of the mountain and greater than Picasso and Dali. She really didn't mind, despite her occasional complaints. As a typical passionate Scorpio, she wanted her man to be strong and lordly, more domineering than she herself.
All the same, though Nick Craven was the perfect lover and all-male, there were times when Bridget felt well and truly fed up with his boundless passion for art. It wasn't, after all, as if he needed to sell his work for the money.
The huge-titted, five-foot-three brunette stepped from the shower and toweled her ripened figure dry in a fluffy yellow bath towel which was nearly as large as her whole voluptuous body. In the sparkling wall-panel mirrors that adorned the luxurious bathroom, she could see her sexy, cock-hungry body reflected back to her from all angles, and a familiar feeling of pride shot through the beautiful French girl.
Yes, she thought confidently, he can run around all he darn well-likes, I know he'll come back to me. She sprinkled powder over her pussy curls, then rubbed some into the rather large rose-pink nipples of her huge naked titties. And in the meantime, even though I love Nick more than life itself, I'm still young and pretty enough to have lots of fun getting fucked by other men-and women-on the side.
Bridget's ass-cheeks undulated provocatively as she swiveled from the bathroom to the adjoining master bedroom. Even when alone, she tended to move with almost unconscious seductiveness.
Just as she was deciding on which of her many sexy and wantonly revealing outfits she ought to wear, the naked young French girl heard Nick's loud steps on the downstairs threshold.
"Get your derriere out of here!" Bridget shrieked as Nick appeared in the bedroom doorway. "I just took a bath and I'm all naked!"
"Now don't you talk about my derriere like that, woman," Nick Craven bellowed in his customary resounding tones. "My ass happens to be real cute." His glance roved hungrily over the seductive lines of Bridget's softly quivering naked tits, little fires of arousal smoldering in his dark eyes. "And it's one hell of a lot more faithful than yours is, you little cock-teaser!"
Bridget could tell by the sound of her handsome boyfriend's voice that his harsh words meant absolutely nothing. They teased each other this way constantly; the words masking their true affection. Smiling happily, she pulled a lacy, low-cut black brassiere and matching bikini panties from the dresser drawer and pulled them over her naked ass with the enticing slowness of a strip-tease artist. In fact, in her wild and intemperate youth in Paris, she'd made her living for a short time, after she had run away from home, by working in a night club.
Mon dieu, she thought as she wiggled her ass-cheeks back in lewd invitation at her eagerly gaping boyfriend, am I ever lucky. Sure isn't every woman whose man actually digs it when she lets other men fuck her cunt.
The bedroom, like the bathroom, was paneled with mirrors when Nick had redecorated their luxurious beach home. As she pirouetted around the room, Bridget was most aware of each and every wriggling motion of her curvaceous young ass, and she glowed with excitement as she felt Nick's eyes burning into her half-naked pussy.
"Hey, now, lady, stop putting on a show," the muscular thirty-one-year-old artist growled with false ferocity. "I got some work to do before I fuck that teasing little ass of yours silly, but I wanna tell you the news first."
"Oh?" Bridget asked excitedly. She stopped undulating her hips and matter-of-factly put on a see-through print blouse and a pair of skin-tight French jeans. "What could be more exciting than my pussy?"
"She's coming today," Nick explained.
"I cum at least five times a day, cherie ...", and then suddenly her face lighted up in a pleased smile. Of course! Jacques's girlfriend! How on earth could she have forgotten? How good it would be to have another fille around to talk to, especially on this dull east coast island. All the locals disapproved of her.
"Callie!" she cried excitedly, pronouncing the name "Cal-eeeee" and hurriedly fastening her thick luxuriant black curls at the nape of her neck with a silver barette. "Fantastique."
"When's she getting here?"
"Tonight, about seven," Nick replied, his huge prick jerking sensuously in anticipatory lust. "On the last ferry. She called when you were in the bath."
The handsome artist's face glowed with excitement as he stalked into the bedroom and pulled the lovely young French girl into a bear-like embrace. Bridget grinned up at him impishly, realizing that her sexy lover was thinking of the sketch they'd received from Jacques of his young love. In the drawing, Callie had seemed a remarkably sexy young woman.
"We'll go pick her up, of course," she murmured into Nick's ear, giving the earlobe a teasing little bite. "That's what I said in my letter, honey."
"Sure," he muttered. Bridget's lavender-scented, silken-soft hair rubbed against his bearded face, and as her eager cunt and sensuously throbbing tits scraped enticingly against his muscular chest, he almost decided not to go back downstairs to his studio but to throw her down on the unmade bed and fuck the piss out of her hot little pussy instead. Christ, she was really the sexiest thing going, that was for goddamn sure.
Bridget, sensing his quickening pulse and feeling his obscenely throbbing prick grow harder and harder against her grinding cunt, pressed her cunt even more seductively against his cloth-covered cock. There was nothing she liked more than fucking at odd times of the day, unexpectedly, spontaneously.
"Yeah, we'll pick Callie up at seven," Nick Craven muttered hotly. But much to Bridget's disappointment, her all-American artist-lover pulled away from her. Why doesn't he fuck my pussy? she despaired. I'm sure his dick's feeling all sexy after seeing me naked and thinking about getting into Callie's little white panties. Why does art always have to come first with him? Mon dieu!
"Sorry, Frenchie," Nick apologized, planting a lingering kiss on Bridget's eagerly pursed lips. "Gotta work. After lunch, I'll give that horny little pussy of yours a good fucking. You just make sure it's all nice and juicy in the meantime."
"Okay, cherie" Bridget mewled.
After living with Nick Craven for two years, she'd learned the futility of resisting her creative lover's desires. She watched, a slightly sad smile on her pretty face, as he strode out of the room and down the stairs. Well, she'd get Callie's bedroom ready, and fix something for dinner-perhaps she would prepare a boeuf bourgignon and some homemade French bread with a big salad. And even if Nick didn't come back from his studio in the back garden that afternoon to satisfy the throbbing craving in her always hungry cunt, maybe she'd call Mr. Rockman, the mailman, a kindly older gentleman who had been lusting after her hot little French pussy ever since he had laid eyes on her.
Smiling wickedly to herself, Bridget Lamothe wiggled her hot-to-fuck ass down the hall to the large guest bedroom, fluffed up the down-filled pillows and Danish imported quilt, dusted off the antique dresser and bedside table, set out a clean towel and washcloth. Callie would feel right at home here, the poor petite fille. How pitiful, how unjust and corrupt of the policia to put her darling brother behind bars-to deprive him of his precious freedom.
Here she'll be safe and happy, Bridget thought as she rearranged a fresh bouquet of daisies on the table by the window. If she is half the voluptuous femme Jacques wrote me she was, we will be closer than ever.
Bridget's lush pink lips pursed up in hungry anticipation at the vivid image as she remembered Lillian Keller, a voluptuous widow from Boston. Lillie, a stunning, huge-titted actress, had tongue-fucked Bridget's pussy so well that she thought she would die of pleasure and would never forget how exciting it had been. Perhaps, merde, certainly, if she just worked things correctly, such an obscene liaison could be established with the beautiful young Callie O'Hara. Her pussy was all hot and Nick's cock was aching for some too, she could tell; and she, too, longed to once again squeeze and suck on silken-soft female titties and taste that tantalizing fragrance of another woman's delicate cunt.
"Oh, la la," Bridget murmured hotly as she gave the guest bedroom a last surveying glance.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the time Callie O'Hara reached the ferry building in Bedford where she was scheduled to catch a ferry to the small resort town of Edgarstown, Martha's Vineyard, she was suffering from a rather severe headache.
"I'd like to buy a ticket," she said over the counter, which was conveniently situated just across the street from the Greyhound bus depot. "I-I'm supposed to catch the one arriving at Edgarstown at seven tonight."
"My dear," the platinum blonde clerk exclaimed. "You look so awful. Are you sick or something?"
"Well, a little tired maybe. I've come from
Charlotte, North Carolina on the bus, and I have a headache."
"Well, here, dear, have some Anacin."
Callie gratefully gulped down the preferred pills and the glass of bottled water. She smiled timidly at the bleached blonde, who seemed warm-hearted despite her ominously pointed red-lacquered nails and brightly painted lips.
"I'm looking so forward to my visit," she stammered. "I mean, I'm going to be staying there with my sister-in-law to be and her boyfriend."
"Oh, so that's who you are!" the pretty, overly made up woman chirped. Her blue shadowed eyes glinted with excitement, and Callie noted that her smile grew more friendly than ever. "Gee, you lucky gal! You're talking about Nick Craven and his French girlfriend, aren't you? Wow, he's one hell of a man, I can tell you thatl"
"Really?" Callie didn't quite know how to reply to the woman's exuberant statement, and her head hurt a bit too much to care. Despite her headache, however, she was still curious and excited about meeting Jacques's sister. "You-you know Bridget's boyfriend?" she asked curiously.
"Do I know Nick? Sure I do," the blonde enthused. "Hell, when he comes over from the island, we go and have a friendly little visit in the office," her head motioned toward a door behind the counter, "and gee, he is some lover!"
Callie was spared further explanation-her head ached so badly that it was something of a torture even to think-by the appearance of a handsome, youthful-looking man in a captain's uniform.
"All aboard," the young man cried. And then, turning to the saucily smiling blonde clerk, he remarked, "And how's it going, Jeri baby? Heard you've been doin' lots of business."
The bleached blonde behind the counter giggled wickedly, thrust out her huge tits, and replied in a husky voice, "Here's your passenger, Petie honey!"
Peter, as the muscular young officer was called, turned his attention from the overly painted blonde behind the counter to the timid-looking passenger, whose hands clutched her pitiful, worn out suitcase as though she were hanging on to a lifeline which would save her from drowning.
"Hey, sweetheart," he exclaimed. "Ready for a little trip in Pete's ferry?"
Callie glanced out the ferry building's window. A heavy driving rain was falling, although the day had been fair up until a few hours ago, and she felt fear clutch at her throat at the thought of boarding a small ferry boat in a storm like this and hoped she wouldn't get seasick.
"Is-is the sea s-safe?" she quavered, staring out in wide-eyed hesitation at the Vineyard sound. She'd only been in a boat once before in her life-when she and Jacques had crossed from Athens to the isle of Kos-but the Aegean Sea had been calm and beautiful.
"Course it is, lady!" Pete declared. "You just follow me; I'll let you sit right up front with me."
Callie nodded dumbly, not wanting to say anything that might be construed as a slur against the man's professional qualifications. She shivered violently as Pete led her out on the ramp, then felt terribly embarrassed as he gave her skimpily clad body a penetrating stare.
"You sure got a fantastic bod, sweetheart," he remarked as he led her up the ramp and onto the boat and showed her to a low wooden bench behind the wheel and instrument panel. "There you go. And take my jacket, you're going to catch your death if you don't wrap up!"
"Thanks," Callie choked out, feeling so sick from her headache and her fear of the crossing in the bad weather that she might as well have been dead already.
Although the captain was doubtless a very nice man, Callie felt relieved when another passenger boarded the ferry and Pete moved from the bench beside her to his place behind the wheel. She was, after all, another man's woman, and the way his arm had lingered on her shoulders as he wrapped the jacket around her had made her nervous. There'd been a lewd glint in his eyes which reminded her of that horrible Barth Owens ... and she had seen the same look in the eyes of young Tommy Eamon. Men! They were all animals, thinking of nothing except sex! Only Jacques had been different-always gentle and considerate, treating her with love rather than lust-and she certainly hoped that his sister and her boyfriend would turn out to have been cut from the same pattern.
Callie could hardly wait to reach the sanctuary of Jacques's sister's home where she would be protected from menacing, pussy-hungering men, but there were still some hours to get through before she reached that happy condition. At the moment, a youngish man in denim jacket and jeans was entering the door. Gosh, I hope he doesn't sit next to me, she prayed. He'd probably stare at my titties and want to fuck my pussy.
To her discomfort, however, the youth placed his rucksack on the-far corner of the wooden bench, planted his tall, muscular frame down close beside Callie O'Hara, and gave her huge tits that were popping out from Pete's jacket a long, lustful stare.
"Hi, Byron," Pete greeted him. "Had any good pieces lately?"
He turned around in his swivel seat to wink meaningfully at the newcomer. "Betcha when you saw this foxy young one you got a hard-on that wouldn't quit, you horny son of a bitch."
Callie was annoyed to feel her cheeks growing pink with embarrassment, but how could she help blushing at such rude talk and bad language? She lowered her flaming face to avoid looking at either of the two young men, hoping that if she just ignored them they would forget about her, a strategy which had been successful with some bothersome males before.
The dark-haired man called Byron laughed heartily. "No, Pete, but that'd have been as good a reason as any. Fact is, though, I got work to do on the island."
"Work!" Pete kidded as he adjusted various knobs and buttons on the instrument panel in preparation for leaving. "You call it work, messing 'round with chicks, writing songs? Ya oughta try some real work, like drivin' one of these tubs in a goddamn storm."
Callie gazed out of the corner of her eye at the strange man seated beside her. A musician. How interesting!
"Byron here's one of those intellectual guys," Pete said to the voluptuous blonde. "Goes to one of them universities downstate, and he's always messin' around with his guitar and writing damn fool songs to get his millions."
"I'm not a bad musician, actually." The dark-haired young man turned and spoke directly to Callie, forcing her to look up out of politeness.
He's sort of nice, Callie decided. And awfully good-looking, too. The sort of guy I like ... if I weren't in love with Jacques.
"And what about yourself?" the young man inquired, his gaze softening as he leaned uncomfortably close to the young blonde. "What brings you to Martha's Vineyard?"
"I'm going to visit my fianc�'s sister." She had to speak loudly to be heard above the sudden roar of the engine's starting up.
There. Now he'll realize I'm already taken, thought the young blonde. Now he'll move away and stop looking at my titties in that dirty way.
But Byron Kealing didn't take the hint. "A little girl like you thinking of getting married?" he shouted, using the sound of the engines as an excuse to press closer than ever against her. "What a waste." Someone else had said the same thing recently-who was it? Oh, God, yes, that dreadful Barth Owens. Shuddering, Callie edged away from the handsome musician.
Just at that moment the ferry-without any warning at all-lurched from a wave that hit it broadside. Caught unawares, the startled young blonde crashed against the hard-muscled chest of the young man beside her.
"Oh, ex-excuse me," she gasped as the boat steadied itself. Quickly she slid over to the far end of the wooden bench, trying to deny to herself that the unwanted contact with a well-built male had sent shivers of excitement coursing through her cunt.
"Nothing to excuse," laughed Byron. "I never had any complaints about a pretty chick falling into my arms, that's for sure."
Once again, Callie blushed and stared at the floor. Due to her aunt's strict limitation of her teenage social activities, she'd never learned how to flirt in a light-hearted manner with men who paid her compliments. Not knowing what to say, she remained silent.
"Visiting your relatives, huh?" the man continued, unperturbed by the huge titted blonde's reticence. "And where's your fianc�?"
Callie's cheeks burned redder than ever, and despite herself, her pussy started burning. She excitedly ground her cunt down on the hard wooden bench trying to massage her tingling clit. She certainly didn't want to blurt out her sad story to this total stranger, but on the other hand, she certainly didn't want it to appear as though she were separated from her fianc� by choice.
"In Greece," she replied at last. "He-uhhe couldn't get away just now." That, at any rate, was not a lie.
"Ahah!" exclaimed the handsome man. The ferry swerved slightly, and he was jolted toward the timid girl, remaining pressed against her curvaceous young body far longer than she thought strictly necessary. "So while your fianc�'s living it up in Greece, you're coming to Martha's Vineyard to have a good time with us American guys, huh?"
"Certainly not!" the blushing girl said stiffly.
Byron gazed at his fellow passenger curiously. She was a lovely little thing, no doubt about that, with a perfect figure that could not be entirely hidden by Pete's bulky leather jacket. Just the sort of chick he fancied, in fact. Yet she seemed so shy, almost unfriendly, that he felt rather annoyed. Normally, the handsome musician met with quite another reaction from chicks, and up until now the twenty-five-year-old had never failed to attract the girl of his choice.
Maybe she's got some kind of sex hang-up, he told himself, unwilling to admit that she perhaps just did not like him. I'll use the slow, platonic friend approach ...
For the rest of the rather bumpy and terribly noisy journey, Callie was much relieved that Byron Kealing avoided overly personal conversation and kept to his own side of the bench. Instead, he talked about his music and songs and by the time the ferry was preparing to dock in the small terminal at Edgarstown, she felt as though she had made a new friend.
"We're almost there," the young man exclaimed a bit distractedly. It was rather difficult to concentrate on a serious conversation when his semi-erect cock was pulsing against the denim fabric of his jeans. Christ, this chick was a sexy little cunt-too bad she had to be so aloof and reserved, but surely his attentive charm would wear her down in time. It never failed.
Then, as the ferry boat docked and the engines came to a wheezing standstill, Callie forgot about the handsome young man seated beside her. Her big green eyes shone with anticipation as she peered out into the darkness trying to spot Jacques's sister and her excitement mounted by the second. Now, at last, she was going to be with real friends!
Bridget Lamothe wrapped her long velvet cape closer around her voluptuous body and flashed a charming, provocative smile at the grizzled old clerk, the only other occupant of the small ferry terminal. Not that she was trying to flirt with the lecherous old gentleman with his ample belly, but the cock-hungry French girl automatically adopted a seductive attitude when in the vicinity of any and all males.
"Pretty soon now, Al?" she queried, glancing at the clock on the wall. The radio, playing a popular tune, was making louder crackling sounds than before, and hope surged through her at the thought that the thirty minute late ferry might be arriving at last.
The older man took a deep swallow of his beer before answering the elegant lady whose presence was making him decidedly uncomfortable. Not only was her perfume stinking up the place, but her whole demeanor, carefully coiffured curls, and trendy long red cape with high leather boots, made him feel ill at ease. In the old days, dames hadn't gone in for all these frills. Women had been in their proper place at home, not running around the world and displaying their bodies like city whores.
"Maybe twenty minutes," he muttered at last, opening another beer as he spoke. "Bad sea-rain and all."
Bridget sighed audibly and lit another Galois. The small pile of cigarette butts surrounding her brown leather boots showed that she'd been smoking too much, but what else was there to do in this dreary place? Why, for God's sake, had Nick gotten himself tied up in a business dinner and left her to meet her brother's girlfriend all alone? What in the hell was she supposed to do with herself in this drab, gray walled ferry terminal? Besides, her cunt was all hot.
Al's prediction had been, as usual, pessimistic. Before Bridget had finished her strong French cigarette, she spied the lights of the ferry flickering off and on as it made its way toward the dock. Running to the window, she felt suddenly light-hearted and rewarded for her forty-five minutes of utter boredom. There was Callie, whom she recognized at once from the sketch Jacques had sent them, and beside her strode a tall, well-built, extremely handsome young man.
"Callie, cherie!" she cried effusively, throwing her arms around the younger girl as soon as she walked into the terminal. "I'm so glad to see you. Mon dieu, but you must be dead on your feet!"
The young blonde, who had never been embraced by a woman before, felt somewhat uncomfortable but was very grateful for the brunette's warm welcome.
"I-I'm awfully glad to be here," she replied. "Wow, what a trip."
"Oh, you poor enfant" sympathized Bridget.
Then turning her amber eyes toward the handsome young man who stood smiling beside Callie, she unconsciously adjusted her pretty face into the provocative expression she reserved for attractive males.
"How sweet of you to carry Callie's bag, Mr. er--?" she cooed kittenishly.
"Kealing" the husky young man grinned. "Byron Kealing. And it was my pleasure to help Callie."
Callie blushed, thinking she ought to have had the savoir faire to make introductions, but the other two never noticed her distress, for they were giving each other one of those significant stares which say more than a thousand words.
Unsophisticated young Callie wasn't quite aware of what was going on between her sister-in-law to be and her friendly traveling companion, but she felt a prickling sense of discomfort nevertheless. She stood to one side, feeling rather like an awkward child, as Bridget offered to drive Byron to a hotel, then invited him to spend the weekend at their home.
Why, she wondered wistfully, can't I be easygoing and amusing like she is? No wonder Jacques said nice things about her--she's much more beautiful and stylish than me, and she knows how to talk to people, too. Gee, I wish I could be more like that ...
Byron accepted the weekend invitation, and the trio piled into the front seat of Bridget's silver Porsche, oblivious to the disapproving scowl of Al, the clerk, and the jealous glances of Pete, the captain. Byron shoved the luggage and his guitar case into the back seat and crawled in beside Callie, who tried not to feel uncomfortable sandwiched in between Jacques's sexy sister's firmly fleshed thighs and Byron Kealing's muscular hips. Although she didn't want to be a prude, her upbringing had made her wary of physical contact with strange men-even though she had been fucked in the mouth by Barth Owens's cock and had practically begged for young Tommy Eamon to fuck her pussy. Callie had decided it was all the alcohol she had consumed and not her normal personality. She was grateful when the handsome young man got off in front of a small, cozy-looking hotel where he had said he was to meet a friend, and she could scoot over to the far side of the car.
Bridget drove fast, but skillfully, along the narrow, deeply rutted roads, and within minutes they were a little way out of the small town and speeding through total blackness punctuated only by the occasional light of an isolated dwelling. Soon Callie decided that she quite liked the intimidatingly elegant French girl who kept up a constant flow of cheerful conversation, telling amusing anecdotes about the residents of each of the houses they passed. By the time they pulled up in front of the house, she felt quite relaxed with the attractive brunette.
"Voila!" smiled Bridget as she tugged the girl's shabby suitcase from the backseat. There had been a time, before she'd met some wealthy men, when she, too, had been compelled to carry shoddy suitcases and wear cheap, discount house pullovers. No longer, thank God, but she felt a pang of pity for her brother's voluptuous blonde lover as she remembered the old days.
"Callie, I hope you'll be happy here-feel right at home and all," she added as she guided the blonde girl up the flagstone walk and in through the heavy oaken front door. "You're part of the family, not just a guest, cherie?"
Callie smiled shyly. Although Jacques's sexy sister was being terribly kind, she felt a bit awed by the French girl's charm and self-confidence.
The boeuf bourgignon, French bread, cheese, and ruby colored red wine which Bridget placed before her were delicious, but Callie was really too tired to eat or make conversation. When her considerate hostess finally showed her to her bedroom, she fell into bed, her pussy longing to be fucked by Jacques's throbbing cock. Oh, God, but she missed him!
CHAPTER SIX
Nick Craven didn't return home until a couple of hours after the voluptuous green-eyed blonde had fallen into a hot, obscenely exciting dream. He strode toward the living room in his usual loud way, tracking mud over the tiled foyer before he thought to kick off his muddy boots.
Bridget looked up from her book with a welcoming smile. She'd been sitting in the overstuffed armchair with her hand in her panties playing with her hot juicy pussy while she read her favorite pornographic book, Jungle Lust. The fire crackled in the hearth and rain pattered on the roof. In between contemplating the taste of Jane's pussy squirming beneath the wild cunt-licking she was receiving from Tarzan while 'Boy' pumped his young cock excitedly, she was visualizing the handsome young man who had arrived on the ferry with lovely young Callie. Mon dieu, what a fine bulge he'd had in his pants, and the lewd glint in his expressive brown eyes had told her without the shadow of a doubt that he was ready and willing to fuck her pussy silly.
"Hi, lover," she said to her rain-bedraggled lover. "Let Bridget get you a nice warm cognac, okay?"
As she opened a new bottle of Courvoiser, the petite brunette felt her cunt quivering with anticipation and her sheer black panty cuntband become wet with desire. Somehow, the thought of letting another man fuck her ever-hungry cunt silly always increased her lust for her handsome artist-boyfriend; she liked nothing better than to lie naked beside him and tease him with her fantasies or true stories of illegal erotic escapades, and he got all excited when she did so.-likewise, she loved hearing his sexual fantasies and tonight she would doubtless listen to his pent-up lust for her brother's girlfriend innocently sleeping in the comfortable guest bedroom.
Then, balancing the two brandy glasses brimming with cognac on a tray, she wriggled her smoothly curved ass back into the living room and settled down close beside her handsome lover, who was kneeling beside the roaring fire.
"And how was your day, cheri!" she asked, not really curious. Still, she realized that he liked to talk about his work, so she listened with half an ear as he told of his newest, yet unfinished masterpiece. Finally, she remarked, "Well, Callie's arrived. She's sleeping in the guest bedroom."
As she'd expected, Nick's attention was caught by the mention of the sexy young blonde. Bridget grinned impishly up at him over the brim of her brandy glass, running her teasing pink tongue provocatively over her lush, bow-shaped lips.
"Gives you a ferocious hard-on to hear that cute little pussy's right under your very own roof, huh?" she smirked, indolently undoing the top button of her expensive white linen blouse as she spoke. "Makes you feel sexy, doesn't it, cheri?"
"You bet it does, you cock-teasing bitch," Nick growled hotly.
A heated flame of anticipation was fluttering in Bridget's churning cunt as she watched his face change from that of an attractive, respectable man to a mask of pure animal lust. This was the mood she loved to see him in most of all, when his sexual appetite was whetted to such an intense degree that he fucked into her greedy cunt with the fiery fury of a master using his helpless slave, subjugating her to his passion-crazed will with his beautiful big cock!-
Nick's thickly throbbing prick was fully erect now and pulsing in aching excitement against his jeans. Ever since Callie had called earlier that day, he hadn't been able to get rid of his lecherous thoughts concerning her. She was obviously very innocent; in the sketch she appeared no older than eighteen, and the embarrassed, evasive manner in which she'd described what had happened to Jacques--the letter they had received from him asking them to get in touch with Callie had been censored-had been downright laughable. And from the innocence in her voice, he was curious as to just how good a fuck she could throw. Well, he'd soon find out. If she had any sexual hang-ups, he'd take care of them. Nick got a special sexual satisfaction from initiating naive young girls into the realm of eroticism, ridding them forever of prudish morality and teaching them that over and above their silly pretensions of purity, they were just hot little cunts like all other chicks since time immemorial.
"She's cute, huh?" he asked, idly rubbing his painfully swollen prick with one large hand. "Will I like her?"
"She's sweet-real pretty. Tits are as big as mine," Bridget smiled her sloe-eyed, sultry come-on look. "But don't you go bugging her tonight, Nick," she added playfully, yet meaning it. "The poor gal's tired and she needs her rest."
Nick glowered, for he very much disliked being told what he ought or ought not to do. Hell, what sort of brute did Bridget think he was, anyway? Granted, part of him would have loved to break into the guest bedroom where the sexy little blonde lay sleeping and fuck her, but he certainly wasn't about to do so. After all, the build-up, the slow wearing down of her moral fiber, that was half the fun!
"Don't you go telling me what to do, woman!" he growled.
Tiny ripples of white-hot desire danced through the petite brunette's juicy pussy as she heard Nick's brutal tone. Fucking was going to be extra exciting tonight, she felt sure. His cock would be big and hard as he fucked into her already desire-dampened cunt.
"And guess what?" she teased. "She met this real cute guy at the ferry terminal-just the type I dig. So I asked him out for the weekend." Although she knew Nick wasn't really the jealous type, she also realized that in his present mood of pent-up lust, her comment would egg him on.
As Bridget had suspected, Nick's rugged features darkened and his hand rubbed more urgently than ever on his obscenely swollen cock, which tented out his levis. He stood up slowly, menacingly, and a shiver of delicious excitement quivered in her pussy.
"You fucking bitch!" he growled. "Playing around with some damn kid while I've got the hots for your brother's cute little girlfriend so bad I can't stand it. Well, now it's my turn to have some fun. Get upstairs! Go on!"
It was apparent to Bridget that Nick was really furious, far more so than normally. His face was contorted with lascivious fury, and his large hands were clenched in fists at his side as he advanced a few threatening steps toward her.
Maybe I've teased too much, she thought, a tremor of dread gliding through her veins as she recalled the time when the man had been in such a vicious temper that he'd whipped her nakedly trembling ass-cheeks with his leather belt. She literally hadn't been able to sit down for nearly a week, and the ugly red welts on her tender ass-cheeks had taken forever to fade.
"Go on, bitch. Upstairs," Nick commanded, massaging his massively swollen cock through his pants. "I'll show you how you'd better treat me after this, you cunt! Go on, get going!"
Despite her growing fear, Bridget hesitated. The master bedroom was right next to the guestroom, and with Nick in such a lustful rage, she was sure they would waken the innocent girl. Probably she'd become so frightened that it would spoil all her plans for an erotic weekend of group sex.
"N-no, Nick love," she stammered. "Let's do it down here, d'accord? I ... I don't want Callie to hear you fuck me! I'll scream, you know I will, I always do when you ...",
"Do like I told you, bitch! Fuck, I don't give a shit who hears you. Maybe it'll turn her pussy on, and get it all juicy and hot for the day when I shove my friendly dick up her cunt. Now, you little tramp, before I beat the shit out of your prick-teasing little French ass!"
Not daring to disobey, Bridget edged toward the stairs with Nick close behind her. He gave her a rough slap on her sensuously swaying ass-cheeks to speed her up, and a masochistic thrill of anticipation shot through the voluptuous brunette's cunt as she thought of herself as a slave being driven on by a cruel lusting lord.
"Get naked, bitch!" he bellowed as he pushed the trembling French girl through the bedroom door with another stinging slap on her smoothly curved ass-cheeks. Even through her jeans and flimsy red lace panties, the blow was painful. "Lie down on the bed, tits down. I'm gonna fuck your cunt dog-style, just like you deserve!"
As quickly as she possibly could, the nervously quivering young brunette slipped out of her pants, orange cashmere sweater, red lace panties, and matching bra. Oh God, what is Nick going to do to me?
"Can't ... can't we close the door at least, Nick?" Bridget ventured timidly, humbly.
"Shut up!" he shouted, and then he stalked toward the bed with his hugely pulsing cock pointing straight out from his muscular groin.
The second his huge, lustfully hardened prick fucked up into her quivering, desire-drenched cunthole so brutally that Nick's sensuously dangling balls slammed up against her nakedly upraised ass-cheeks, the cock-impaled young brunette forgot all about the innocent blonde sleeping in the next room.
"Aaaaaaggghhhhh!" she shrieked in a daze of pleasure-pain. "You're hurting me! Ooooohhhhh! Harder, darling ... yes ... like that. Fuck my pussy harder with your big beautiful cock. Ooooohh. Ooooooohhhhh!"
Callie O'Hara was jolted suddenly out of her wild, pussy-exciting dream, just as the voluptuous French girl had feared, as she and Nick clattered noisily up the stairs and burst into the adjoining bedroom. Callie heard the smacking sound of Nick's flat palm striking Bridget's buttocks, but did not realize what it was in her naivete. Jacques, her one and only boyfriend, hadn't a violent bone in his body.
When she heard a man's harsh cry of "Now get naked," however, she jolted awake and cringed down under her warm, down-filled quilt, shivering with fright. Pulling the blanket tightly over her sleep-tousled golden curls, she strove valiantly to block out the obscene noises filtering in from next door, but it was no use. Even with her ears buried beneath the thick coverlet, young Callie could hear every vulgarity, every obscene sound of flesh slapping against naked flesh, every lewd moan ... and somehow, as she listened to the lewdly exciting sounds, she felt her own pussy quivering with an unwanted desire beneath her modest white flannel nightie.
I'm wicked, unforgivably wicked, she agonized, pressing her svelte, girlishly rounded thighs together in a desperate attempt to stop the unwanted tingling sensation of desire growing hotter and hotter in her naked cunt. Only sick perverts would listen to other people fucking and get so excited. What's the matter with me? I must go back to sleep. I must!
Despite her good intentions, however, Callie's feelings of lewd arousal only increased. Oh God, my pussy is so hot and wet, how can I wait three long years before I feel Jacques's hugely throbbing cock fucking deep up inside my cunt? she wondered sadly as she listened to the loud chorus of groans and creaking bedsprings. How am I ever going to stand it?
Then, as she realized that Jacques's beautiful young sister was crying out in anguished pain, Callie forgot about her own sad situation. My goodness, what could Nick be doing to her? Or, maybe it wasn't even Nick: perhaps some sex-crazed rapist, someone like
Barth Owens or Tommy Eamon, had sneaked into the house and was brutally ravishing poor Bridget's pussy!
Callie sat up in her bed, her heart thudding against her full chest as she wondered what she ought to do. Surely it was her duty as a human being to do something to help poor Bridget who'd been so kind to her, but what? If the man whom she could hear grunting and spitting out vulgar obscenities was really an intruding maniac, she certainly didn't want him to discover her so he could do all sorts of disgusting things to her titties and cunt!
But, finally, shaking with fear and another odd sensation, which she didn't let herself identify, the trembling young blonde, completely naked beneath the white flannel nightie, climbed from her warm bed and tiptoed across her carpeted floor toward the door. It was open just a crack, for she never liked to feel completely closed in at night, and she eased through the doorway without a sound.
Callie's original plan had been to peek into the other bedroom as silently as possible, ascertain just what was going on, and then creep down the stairs to phone the police. When she actually found herself staring through the wide-open door of the master bedroom, however, she could only stand in paralyzed shock, gaping at the obscene spectacle taking place before her eyes. In her bewildered condition of semi-shock, not even the horrible consequences of being caught by Jacques's sister peering in on her occurred to her.
For the man hunched over Bridget was Nick, not some lust-crazed rapist. Not only did she recognize his thick brown hair from the snapshot she'd seen, but the nakedly writhing woman beneath him was gasping out his name.
"No, Nick, nooooo!" she wheezed, obviously finding it hard to speak as her lover's muscular bulk flattened her against the mattress and his huge pole of male flesh buffeted her naked body back and forth. "Aaaaiiiii! You're-oohh ... ooooohhh ... ooowwwwwhhh! You're hurting my little pussy. Ooowwwwwhhh!"
Nick loomed over the petite brunette, his thick muscles gleaming with sweat as he rose and fell over her like some savage beast. They weren't even doing it in the normal position, the watching blonde noticed dazedly. Instead, the poor girl was flat on her stomach while her brutal boyfriend fucked into her like a dog fucking a bitch. It was utterly disgusting ... and sinfully exciting! A low gasp escaped from Callie's mouth at the wicked thrill of watching the naked couple entangled in the lewdest sexual embrace she'd ever dreamed of, but her uncontrollable outcry went unheard as the background sounds of protesting bedsprings, flesh slapping naked flesh, and soulful moans accelerated in volume with each passing second.
Thoroughly ashamed of her own lewdly aroused pussy, the spying young blonde sternly commanded herself to return to her own bed at once, but her feet refused to obey her brain, and she remained rooted to the spot staring in open-mouthed wonderment at the salacious spectacle in front of her. Oh God, what an enormous cock Nick has! she marveled, a shiver of fear mingled with excitement burning in her cunt. It's much bigger than Jacques's. How can poor Bridget's pussy take it all in? She's so small-it must be killing her. Ripping her cunt apart.
Then, before she realized what she was doing, Callie O'Hara's slim white hand had slipped down to her flannel nightgown-protected pussy. The cloth was slightly moist from her unwanted cunt juices, and as she gently stroked the moistly pulsating pussy flesh between her weakly trembling legs, a dark, wet patch appeared on the white nightie. Suddenly, noticing what her sinful hand was doing, Callie snatched it away and squeezed her thighs tightly together to drown out the wild tingling feeling in her dampened pussy. This well-meaning gesture only increased her feverish desire, sending shivers of ecstatic yearning throbbing from the top of her golden head to the strands of her softly curling, pussy juice-drenched cunt hairs.
Oh God, no! she exclaimed in silent desperation. What's the matter with me? How can my pussy be getting so excited from watching something so depraved. I won't touch my pussy. I won't finger-fuck my pussy.
But, as Bridget's protests changed to a low hum of blissful passion and the huge, wetly glistening cock fucked in and out of her tightly gripping pink cunt harder than ever, Callie's high-minded resolutions faded away. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, she could see every detail of the lurid fucking, even the thickly pulsing veins on Nick's enormous cunt-splitting prick and the sparse hairs on his sensuously jerking, cum-filled balls. It was too much for the innocent, sexually frustrated young blonde artist. Her hand once again stole down over the curvaceous line of her torso to cup the involuntarily pulsating, cock-starved cunt.
I'm sick and evil, her tortured mind moaned, but my fingers feel so good touching my pussy!
Although Callie realized intellectually that the hysterical threats of eternal hellfire which her furious aunt had dumped upon her head the time she'd caught her eleven-year-old niece fondling her hairless young cunt in the bathtub were groundless, Callie was still decidedly uneasy about touching her pussy. Sometimes, awakening from a dream and still half-conscious, she'd press her thighs together so tightly that her naked cunt reached a climax, but she was highly ashamed afterward and had never admitted her sinful self-indulgence to anyone, not even Jacques. Until a few days ago, she'd never gone so far as to actually touch her blondely furred cunt with her fingers, and she could scarcely believe that she had actually done such a wantonly nasty thing.
I'm fingering my cunt right out here in the hallway where Bridget and Nick could look up any second and see me staring in like a filthy-minded little girl! Callie's brain reeled. Oh, dear God. What's the matter with me? I really must be a whore-and I haven't even the excuse now of having had too much to drink!
But the stimulation afforded by the lurid tableau of writhing, nakedly thrashing flesh was strong enough to make the innocent girl forget her guilty misgivings, and, sighing in helpless defeat, she threw her moral scruples to the winds and lifted her nightie up to reveal the golden tan of her sensuously curved naked thighs and, above them, the contrasting strip of smooth ivory flesh where her bikini had kept away the Grecian sunshine. Then, slowly, quivering at her own wickedness, her hand slid toward the blondely curling pussy hairs.
Callie was completely absorbed in the sight of Nick Craven's huge, pussy-splitting cock fucking wildly into Bridget's black, curl-rimmed cunthole. Oh God, oh God, her mind screamed. This is the most pussy-exciting exhibition I've ever seen! Enormous tidal waves of wanton pleasure coursed through her ecstatically pulsing cunt as she peered through the open doorway, and she allowed her finger to touch the forbidden button of her tiny pulsing clitoris. And suddenly, just as Bridget was arching up her nakedly wriggling ass-cheeks and begging her boyfriend "Mon Dieu! Fuck me harder, fuck my cunt harder!" an unexpected cold, wet object rubbed up against the spying young artist's bare ass-cheeks! Callie jerked forward, lurching against the other side of the hall with a loud crash that would surely have given her away had not Nick chosen that exact moment to let out a conquering he-man cry of sheer animal passion.
"Aaaaaaiiiii! C'mon bitch ... that's it! Fuck back!" he bellowed. "Move that ass. Oh Jeez, move that French ass. Aaaaarrrggh. Aaaaaaaxxxxxxx
But the terrified young blonde scarcely heard the wildly fucking man's outcry. She was staring in horrified disbelief at a large, obscenely carved wooden sculpture of a man holding his huge erect prick. The wooden cock was standing straight out.
Oh God. No. It's filthy, her mind wailed in disgusted disbelief. She had never ever seen a piece of art work like it in her entire life. Had
Nick sculpted it? It ... it looked so real, so ... so life-like sitting on the hall table in the dim light. The statue itself was only about eighteen inches tall, but the huge prick it was holding was at least seven inches long.
Fresh tingles of excitement raced through her hungry pussy again and again and her blood turned to fire in her veins as she imagined how wonderful the huge wooden prick would feel fucking into her wetly hungering cunthole.
As tears of shame brimmed up in her sultry, passion-glazed green eyes, Callie attempted to back silently down the hall, back to the guestroom. But the hugely erect cock seemed to glisten lewdly in the moonlight ... as if it were beckoning her cock-hungry pussy closer and closer. Oh, God, what can I do? What? What? Callie agonized.
Yet she knew that she had no choice but to move closer to the pornographic object d'art.
Picking it up with trembling hands, she rubbed it up and down her cunt-slit just as if she were the most wanton whore in the slums of Athens! It was all she could do to stop herself from fucking the whole seven inches of the sculpture's erect cock up her cunt ... but it might alert Nick and Bridget to the inadmissible fact that she'd been peeping in through the doorway while they were fucking wildly in their bedroom. Oh ... that would be horrible. They might even run out and catch her with her nightie pulled up and her rubbing the wooden prick all around her cunt! But she couldn't help it, it felt so good.
"Uummmmmm ... ohhh ... mmmmmmm," she moaned in appreciation as she hotly rubbed the statue's cock over and over, the slippery wet pussy juices flowing onto her cunt hairs. The innocent young blonde shivered so that her teeth actually chattered. This was simply too vile to be real. But it was real! Furthermore, the strange primitive sensations emanating from deep within her already titillated cunt were far too vivid to be denied.
What's happening to me? Callie's tortured mind moaned in abject misery. First, I got turned on by sucking that awful Barth Owens's cock; then I fing erfucked my pussy in front of Sheila's little brother and let him fuck my ass; then, I was crazy enough to stand here in the hall and watch, and put my finger up under my nightie like a sex-mad slut; and now ... now Fm rubbing my pussy with a statue, and God help me, it feels good. It feels so good. Jacques would never love me if he knew what a slut I am.
Callie's hands were rubbing the wooden cock faster and faster over her throbbing cunt, the tip brushing again and again over the ultra-sensitive bud of her nerve-filled clitoris, each time causing her to shiver convulsively.
Inside the dimly lighted bedroom, Nick and Bridget were still bucking savagely against each other, driving themselves on toward a powerful cum. Callie stared at them with glazed eyes, trying to deny the tremors of oncoming orgasm which the statue's wooden prick was arousing in her own ecstatically throbbing cunt.
And to think I thought they were wanton! she thought dizzily, leaning against the wall to keep from collapsing as her knees turned to water. Look at me! Oh God, anything two people might do-anything at all-is more normal than what I'm doing!
"Aaaaahhhhh!" Bridget wailed, twisting beneath Nick's ruthless, pussy-splitting cock like a woman possessed by demons. "I'm cuuuuuuummmmmmmmmiiinnnnggggg! Ooooohhhhh, yyeeaahhh!"
At the sound of the other girl's soul-shattering shriek, Callie was horrified to feel her own body hurtling toward an out-of-control climactic explosion. No! she prayed. I can't make myself cum like this!
Then, as the implacable seismic waves of her wild cum jolted through her tortured cunt, all thoughts of her faraway young lover were drowned in the sea of pure physical bliss that washed over her. Even the wantonly thrashing lovers in the next room vanished from her mind as blackness studded with scarlet and gold stars blinded her, and she clawed at the wallpaper in the convulsive throes of one of the most satisfying cums she'd ever enjoyed in all her twenty years.
At last, after a seeming eternity of lewd bliss, which was heightened by her intense feelings of guilt, she straightened her wobbly knees and, wiping her pussy juices off the wooden prick, placed the statue back on the hall table.
No ... no ... it can't really have happened! Callie's tortured mind wailed.
Then, suddenly remembering Nick and Bridget, she jerked her tousled blonde head toward the wide-open bedroom door. Oh God, what if they heard me ... saw me ... she shivered fearfully. I could never face them again. I'd have to leave tomorrow ... and where in the world would I go?
To the guilt-stricken blonde's relief, the couple was still writhing around in the king-sized double bed, groaning out loud in orgasmic ecstasy. It was impossible that they could have noticed her outside the door fucking her pussy with the wooden carving. Still gripped in the hypnotic fascination of unbridled sensuality, the shame-faced young blonde artist watched as Nick's powerful ass-cheeks contracted and his entire body jerked spasmodically above Bridget's nakedly writhing body. Seconds later, as the skewered French girl shrieked in an unholy delirium of bliss, thick streams of sticky white cum began trickling out of her cock-stuffed cunt to dribble over her luxuriant black pussy hairs and onto her violently quivering thighs.
Callie backed off in the direction of the guest bedroom. She'd seen enough and, in any case, didn't dare risk being discovered peering in through the door. Flopping down on her rumpled bed, she sobbed herself to sleep.
But the sun rose as usual the next morning, following nature's unswayable plan, as it had from time immemorial, in utter disregard of the miseries of insignificant humans. In fact, it was a rather spectacular morning, particularly for the time of year. Both Bridget and Nick rose as soon as the sunrise tinted the sky outside their wide windows a vibrant shade of rose and found themselves in excellent spirits after their sexual excesses of the night before.
Callie, on the other hand, didn't leave her bed at all. Feeling incapable of facing Nick after watching him attack Jacques's sister like a brutal rapist, she claimed that her headache was worse and hid her head under the blankets when Nick peered into her room.
All day long, blinking back tears of guilt and despair, she stared bleakly through her window at the sun glinting on the tall green trees and wished with all her heart that she could erase the lurid events of the previous night from her tortured memory.
There was silence in the large elegant beach house almost all day long. Nick, as Callie had overheard him explaining to Bridget in the hallway outside her room, had decided to take his sketch pad over to Lake Tashmoo for the day.
An hour or so later, Bridget came in bearing a sumptuous breakfast tray laden with hot buttered toast, fragrant coffee, and a speckled brown boiled egg in a pretty blue and white china eggcup. Although Callie felt rather hungry at the sight of the appetizing breakfast, she shook her head weakly at Bridget.
How can she look so fresh and pretty, after the things she went through last night? the innocent blonde wondered, staring incredulously at Jacques's sister's attractive form-fitting French jeans and nearly see-through, flower-print shirt. Her makeup was impeccably applied, her raven hair was tied back at the nape of her neck with a jaunty red velvet ribbon. Suddenly Callie felt drab and inadequate, incapable of coping with life's complexities, and dropped back down against her pillows.
Bridget clucked sympathetically, returned with a pot of tea, and apologetically explained that she, too, had to leave. There wasn't a thing to eat in the house, and unless they were to subsist on instant mashed potatoes, spinach, and salt, she'd have to do some shopping.
Besides, she thought to herself as she solicitously fluffed up the pillows on the bed, I'm just dying to see that cute Byron Kealing guy.
"Now you just get a good rest, cherie," she said as she tripped energetically out the door with her wicker shopping basket. "By this evening, I want you to be feeling real good, 'cause Nick is dying to meet you, and I'm gonna make us a real super dinner."
"Okay, Bridget," Callie said. "I'll be just fine, don't you worry about me."
As the front door slammed and Bridget's footsteps clicked over the flagstone walk, the miserably guilty young artist allowed her pent-up tears to stream down over her burning cheeks. But what was the use of crying? That certainly wouldn't solve anything! Callie dabbed at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. Oddly enough, though she'd told herself she Wanted nothing more than to be left alone, the total silence of the large house was eerie and very depressing. I ought to get up and take a walk or something, she thought, or maybe borrow some of Nick's paper and charcoal and do some sketching.
But Callie O'Hara spent the rest of the day staring blankly out the window ...
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Bridget Lamothe returned home at dusk, her cheeks flushed from an excitement which derived from more erotic exercise than from food shopping, her brother's lovely young girlfriend was very glad to see her.
Unable to bear remaining in her crumpled bed with vile memories and guilty self-accusations ringing unremittingly through her aching head, Callie arose and showered while, down below, she listened to the beautiful French girl humming happily to herself as she put away the groceries and started dinner. When Callie, dressed in a pair of jeans and her most attractive pullover in an effort to call attention away from her red-rimmed eyes, rather shyly made her way downstairs, Bridget immediately put her at her ease by giving her an exuberant hug.
"Feeling better, cherie?" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad! Give me a hand slicing up these onions? I'm way behind schedule, and Nick-likes his dinner on the table the instant he walks in the door." Smiling warmly at the subdued young blonde, she handed her a knife. "We're having a good old-fashioned, southern fried chicken dinner," she added, "and I bet it'll be the best you ever ate. At least I like to try my hand at cooking all kinds of food."
Bridget Lamothe was sophisticated but so warm and easy-going that Callie felt very comfortable with her. "Ummmmmm ... I'm sure it will be delicious. Jacques always loved the meals I made for him. He even gained weight."
"Men!" Bridget flourished her paring knife in an extravagant gesture. "They're pigs every one. But I love them."
Callie tried to smile, but her expression remained wistful.
"C'mon cherie, be happy," the voluptuous dark-haired girl squeezed Callie's arm warmly. "Didn't we tell you that Nick paid a pretty penny to get the best lawyer in Greece for Jacques? He'll be out of there in no time, honest. And in the meantime, we'll be so busy you can't have the blues. For the time being, Nick has offered you the complete use of his studio out back and supplies so that you can get started painting for that one-woman show that will make you the hit of the art world. And I'll teach you real French cooking."
And teach you a whole lot of even more exciting things, too, the sexually liberated French girl thought. She had to turn and pretend to peer into the fridge to hide the involuntary smile that spread over her lush lips at the erotically thrilling prospect of introducing the innocent young blonde into the joys of cunt-licking.
There was a bottle of white wine cooling in the door compartment of the refrigerator, and Bridget impulsively pulled it out and started to unscrew the cork. Get her a little high, that's just what is needed to loosen some of that reserve, she smiled to herself, and get her pussy all hot and horny.
Not wanting to appear rude or childish, Callie accepted the glass. The cool white wine slid down her throat easily. What with the soothing drink and Bridget's cheerful flow of conversation about all the fun they would have, she began to feel a good deal more cheerful.
Yes, I did the right thing in coming here, Callie told herself, only half-listening as the beautiful French girl chattered on in fluent English about the nice time she'd had today driving around and shopping. And as for last night, I won't let myself thing about it.
Bridget, for her part, wasn't really concentrating on her own words. Instead, she was recalling the nicest part of the afternoon, the hour or so when she and Byron Kealing, whom she'd invited along on her shopping excursion to show him the town, had gone up to his hotel room and explored each other's body with ardent enthusiasm. What a huge, delicious cock the handsome young man had. It wasn't as thick as Nick's, perhaps, but it was unusually long and he sure did know how to use it.
Tiny flames of tingling pleasure flared up in the French girl's sensuous cunt at the memory of her illicit lover, and she felt the cuntband of her panties dampening in renewed desire. I sure hope Nick is horny again tonight, she thought without shame, for Bridget Lamothe had long ago accepted her unquenchable sexual appetites. This pussy of mine just never stops feeling hungry.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the young blonde, who was diligently slicing onions beside her. I wonder if she did hear us fucking last night? she speculated. It's almost impossible that she didn't, what with that damn fool Nick leaving the bedroom door wide open. Maybe that's why she acted so strange this morning.
Callie was a lovely girl, with those soft curves and a face so youthfully pretty that makeup would have been redundant, but she seemed awfully young for her age. Really, it was hard to believe that she'd actually run away to Greece with Jacques, for she seemed far more like a schoolgirl than a woman. Bridget wondered how much difficulty they would have convincing the innocent blonde that group sex could be a source of limitless pleasure.
After their torrid, wildly exciting fucking session was over that afternoon, she and Byron Kealing, her latest lover, had lain lazily in bed and talked about the upcoming weekend. She'd only had to let slip the vaguest of hints about her aspirations before he comprehended what she had in mind, and he'd offered some interesting suggestions.
A couple of years ago, Byron had recounted, he'd been on a tour in California. While there, he'd struck up a friendship with a sexy young hippy chick. She'd invited him to visit some of her friends living in a commune in Santa Cruz.
The members turned out to be young, attractive, and disarmingly liberal, sexually speaking. Byron's young girlfriend, new to the commune despite the fact that she'd had no qualms about letting him fuck her on a one-to-one basis, freaked out when one evening's innocent pot party developed into an orgy. But after a redhead named "Starlight" had followed her into the bedroom and brought her down with skillful kisses and caresses, the uptight girl's cunt had become so hot that she had eventually joined in the group sex session with unbridled enthusiasm.
Again, Bridget glanced at her brother's beautiful young girlfriend. No, she mused, her pulse quickening, I sure wouldn't mind a little cunt-licking by this pretty little thing. I bet those huge sensuous titties of hers feel warm and soft as kittens, and I'd love to show her how much she's been missing, how much sensuality's lying hidden in that ripe young body of hers.
The reveries of both women were interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone in the hallway outside the kitchen. Bridget hurried to answer it, and though Callie tried not to listen to her conversation, it was impossible not to overhear every word through the open doorway. As she listened to the French girl speak to her boyfriend in a voice that suddenly acquired a husky, sultry cadence, her depression suddenly returned.
"But that's the second time this week!" the sexy brunette exclaimed into the receiver. "Oui, I know you can't help it. No, I'm not bitching ... what? No, we gals'll just have a few drinks and wait until you get back. Oui, oui. Did you remember to pick up some scotch?
No, I'm not nagging, cheri. Okay, okay ... just don't you get so tired that I can't have a good fuck after dinner. 'Bye!"
Fantastique! Bridget thought as she reentered the kitchen with a wide smile on her pretty face. Nick is in a sexy mood again. It was several minutes before she noticed that Callie was crying, not just the normal tears one inevitably sheds while chopping a large quantity of onions, but shoulder-shaking sobs.
"Callie!" she exclaimed, moving over to the woebegone blonde and putting an arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong, cherie? Don't cry like that, please."
Callie made a valiant effort to stifle her sobs, but it was impossible to hold back her misery any longer. Half-blinded by tears, she allowed the solicitous older woman to lead her into the comfortable living room and settle her down on a soft, overstuffed sofa.
"Th-thanks, Bridget," Callie managed to stammer as the voluptuous brunette placed a refilled wine glass in her trembling hand and sat down close beside her. "I'm sorry I'm such a silly nuisance, r-really I am."
"Don't be ridiculous, cherie!" Bridget was genuinely sorry for the pitiful blonde, but that didn't stop her from remembering Byron's exciting story.
This might be just the perfect time to put my plan into action, she mused, allowing her hand to caress the young girl's shaking shoulders more warmly than ever. She's vulnerable and lonely and frightened. The sensuous brunette did not consider herself to be corrupting the innocent blonde as she slid close to her on the sumptuous couch, so close that their soft-fleshed feminine thighs were pressed together. As far as Bridget was concerned, sexual satisfaction was the cure-all for all ills. Since the night, nearly eight years ago, when she'd joyfully let a nice older American businessman take her back to his hotel room in Paris and fuck through her cherry, she'd felt secure and happy in her role as a sensual female. Never in her life had she experienced the guilty conflicts which beset her brother's young girlfriend, and therefore it was nearly impossible for her to comprehend what Callie was going through.
"Sssssssshhhhh," she crooned, gently stroking Callie's satin-smooth golden hair as she spoke softly into her ear. "Everything's going to be all right, cherie. You're with friends now. Now, tell Bridget why you're crying."
"N-nothing's wrong really," Callie stuttered miserably. Much as she longed to confide in this sympathetic French girl who seemed so much more knowledgeable about the ways of the world than she herself was, she could not bring herself to confess her heinous secrets. "I'm okay, r-really. Just feeling kinda lonely, you know. And my headache's still b-bothering me ... and ... and..." Her voice trailed off un-convincingly, and Callie gulped nervously at her wine to avoid meeting the other girl's eyes.
"And maybe you heard something last night that upset you?" Bridget completed her naive guest's sentence for her. "Look, cherie, you can talk to me, I'll understand. And you'll feel better when you get it off your chest."
Callie gulped and choked back the last of her tears. She felt vaguely awkward in Jacques's sister's intimate embrace, for she'd been brought up by a very undemonstrative Aunt Lizabeth. Yet, at the same time, she felt soothed and secure.
"I ... I just c-can't talk about it," she sighed at last, setting her empty wine glass down on the coffee table. Bridget smoothly refilled it, and without realizing quite how much she was drinking, Callie again raised it to her lips. "I-I'm s-so ashamed of myself."
"Don't be," Bridget tried to reassure the ill-at-ease blonde. "No one could have helped overhearing us fucking, the way Nick was acting. He's a great guy, don't get me wrong, but he gets in these moods sometimes." Her skillful hands continued to stroke the young blonde's hair, her sweater-covered arms, her slim torso. "Nothing to worry about, cherie!"
"Oh, but you don't know the worst of it!" Callie exclaimed. And then, suddenly, to her own amazement, she heard her tremulous voice blurting out the whole obscene story, from her indecent arousal at the hands of the repulsive Barth Owens to her wild, unwanted cum of last night. By the time she'd finished her half-hysterical tirade and was sobbing, "Oh, God, I think I'm going crazy, Bridget! I never used to act this way! I just don't know what to do!" she was lying in the voluptuous brunette's arms and weeping against her huge, sensuous tits.
When she realized that she was leaning against another woman's titties, Callie edged away. Dabbing at her tears with a tissue, she tried a shaky smile, her pussy tingling strangely.
"But you must think I'm just disgusting ...", her voice came out in a pitiful squeak.
"Of course I don't," Bridget protested indignantly. Feeling the other girl's lithe curvaceous body pressed against hers had brought on a wave of lust, which never lay far beneath the surface of her well-groomed, sophisticated exterior, and she was sorry that Callie had moved away from her.
"You're just a woman with a woman's body like all the rest of us girls," she continued. "Trouble with you is that you don't understand your own body, and that you're all confused about sex and love. You need to relax and get to know your own body, what it needs and wants."
"Well, I do feel pretty tense," Callie faltered, not quite knowing what her self-assured sister-in-law to be was trying to say.
The voluptuous brunette smiled as tingles of anticipation raced through her cunt. There were still a couple of hours before her Nick would be home and that left just enough time to initiate innocent young Callie into the joys of female sensuality. Perhaps Nick would be angry when he discovered that she'd had first go at the young blonde he so lusted after, but in the long run he'd surely thank her for paving his way into the uptight young blonde's hot little pussy.
"C'mon, cherie," Bridget murmured sympathetically. "I'm going to teach you how to relax those muscles and get in touch with your own body. Lie down here on the couch and let me give you a nice massage. That's just the thing you need right now."
A massage? Something about the very word conjured up sinful connotations in Callie's alcohol-dulled brain, though she couldn't remember just why. Oh, yes-nasty massage parlors, which she'd read about in the papers, were really nothing but whorehouses.
"Oh, no, Bridget, I don't think so," murmured the young blonde weakly. "I ... I mean ...",
"Sssssssshhhhh," Bridget brushed away her protestations and gently eased her flat on her stomach on the couch, slipping a fat pillow under her head for comfort. "I'm just taking the knots out of those tight muscles with a nice backrub. You just lie still and take it easy, cherie, and remember that your body's supposed to give you pleasure, not problems."
Callie obeyed, feeling too dizzy to protest. I guess I shouldn't have had so many glasses of wine, she thought drowsily as she leaned her tear-stained cheek against a silk-covered pillow and closed her eyes. Bridget's artful caresses along her back and jean-protected ass-cheeks were making her feel calmer, and she ignored the silly suspicions lingering in the back of her brain which told her that Bridget's hypnotic, kneading motions were too intimate, too erotic.
"What a beautiful body you have, Callie," the brunette murmured, and her innocent houseguest shivered as silken strands of the brunette girl's shoulder-length hair brushed over her neck. "So feminine, so lovely ... no wonder my brother loves you. But he's a man and men can be so cruel, because they don't really understand how sensitive a woman is, especially a young girl like you. Only another girl can really understand how to help another."
Yes, Callie agreed silently as Bridget's skillful fingers worked their way up under her pullover sweater. I do feel good. Her hands are so gentle, and she's really trying to make me feel happier. Even Jacques never treated me so tenderly-men just don't know how.
Callie O'Hara was a good deal drunker than she realized, and her emotional stability was at such a low ebb that she was more than willing to be taken care of by someone who knew what she was doing. She felt too weak to make any protest as Bridget carefully guided her body over so that she lay on her back with her eyes still clenched shut and her huge sensuous tits trembling beneath her sweater with every shaky breath she drew.
Bridget could feel the younger girl's muscles, which had initially been taut as steel cables, growing pliant beneath her knowledgeable touch. Her own breath quickened in desire as she gazed down at the luxuriant female body beneath her, and she cautiously, subtly, slipped her fingers beneath the blue pullover. Callie's warm white skin felt soft and warm beneath her tingling fingers as she eased slowly toward the other girl's huge, softly trembling tits, and she marveled at how different, how excitingly dissimilar, a woman's body was from a man's. She loved touching other women's titties, delighted in being caressed in return. It was a quieter, more subdued pleasure than that which she received from a man's long thick prick fucking inside her pussy, but it was an utterly satisfying form of eroticism. Pressing her legs together as a shiver of lust began to dance through her body, Bridget eased her hands around to unfasten Callie's white cotton bra.
To the brunette's rather surprised delight, the young blonde offered only token resistance to the removal of her bra. She murmured, "All right, yes, yes," in a tone of whimpering submission as Bridget whispered that this was essential if she were really to relax, then lay back limply as the older girl began kneading and stroking the ivory white flesh of her nakedly trembling titties.
She really is hot-blooded and sensual, after all, Bridget rejoiced silently as she gently unzipped the blonde's denim pants. Wow, Nick is really going to dig her!
Callie continued to hold her eyes shut, for she realized intuitively that if she actually saw what the other woman's hands were doing to her tingling body, she'd never be able to rationalize away the sensuous stroking motions as being therapeutic. Although she caught her breath as Jacques's sister's teasing fingertips began to play over the ultra-sensitive nipples and she heard her protective bra flutter to the carpet beside the couch, somehow she could not bring herself to make a real protest. She just felt too warmly wonderful to interfere with the titillating sensations gliding over every inch of her ripe young body.
"Nothing like a nice massage," the girl above murmured. "Doesn't your body feel gooooooddddd now, Callie cherie?"
The twenty-year-old blonde made an incoherent murmuring sound, not daring to allow herself to reply. That, quite like opening her eyes, would have meant acknowledging exactly what she was allowing to happen.
I know this is sinful, and I ought to stop her, her muddled mind whirled, but I don't want to. For the first time in ages I feel warm ... happy ... secure ... and my pussy is becoming so hot!
"Such beautiful titties," Bridget breathed in the young artist's ear. "And such a beautiful little belly ...", As she spoke, she eased the other girl's jeans over her smoothly curved ass-cheeks, pulling the white cotton panties along with the jeans to reveal a luxuriant cluster of softly curling golden pussy hairs. "Uuuuuummmmm ... feels good, doesn't it?"
"Ooooooooohhhhhh, yessssss!" moaned Callie, and then her cheeks turned bright pink as she heard her lewd outcry echo through the living room.
Really, she's going too far. What's she trying to do? The innocent girl's mind reeled. Instinct told her that it was definitely time to put a stop to this pleasant but illicitly intimate massage, but as Bridget's experienced fingers trailed down over her pussy mound, she felt all the nerves down there in her blondely furred cunt untensing and couldn't bring herself to put an end to the delicious sensations. Her flesh seemed to be melting, merging with the older girl's voluptuous body as she slowly eased her hotly trembling body down on top of her new friend.
Oh God, what would Jacques think if he knew what I'm doing? Callie thought distractedly, but then all thoughts of her absent lover faded into oblivion as the more experienced French girl's outstretched middle finger slipped along the blonde curl-rimmed crevice of her involuntarily dampening cunt. The invading digit slid slowly over the sensitive slit of her helplessly quivering pussy-hole, and an unwanted sigh of ecstasy spilled from her lips before she could stop herself.
"No ... no ... pleeeeeeze, Bridget, you m-mustn't," Callie managed to stammer, but as the other girl continued to tease at her excitedly tautened nipples and tiny, wantonly quivering clit, her protests faded into a low wail of uncontrollable arousal.
"Ooooohhh!" breathed Bridget. "I like to make you feel happy. And anything that makes you feel happy is good."
Callie certainly didn't know anything of the sort, for she'd been raised under a strict ethic which made all things pleasurable, and particularly physically pleasurable, automatically sinful. This new concept distracted her as the other girl massaged her initially resistant young pussy into a blossoming flower of desire whose coral-pink flanges spread wider and wider as Bridget's insistent fingers fondled them.
"I'm just another girl, just like you," the sultry brunette crooned. "I can teach you how to use your body like a real woman, without hang-ups and self-hate ...",
Bridget's obscenely tantalizing finger moved over the other girl's hugely pulsating little clitoral bud again and again, first rapidly, then in slow motion, then pausing entirely for a feverish second during which Callie was heartily ashamed to hear herself moan in involuntary sexual hunger. Her voluptuous naked body seemed to have turned into one formless mass of invincible bliss, and she no longer even thought of trying to hold back the powerful cum that was growing deep within her cunt. And then, suddenly, sooner than Bridget had expected, the girl beneath her tensed, then spasmed convulsively as low, ecstatic cries gurgled from her throat. Squirming her own pussy down against the wildly cumming girl's nakedly trembling thighs, she strove for her own climax. The blonde's skin was so soft, so seductively fragrant, and her lushly curved body jerked and thrashed in such obvious erotic ecstasy.
Within moments, Bridget was also wallowing in the throes of a powerful orgasm, her wantonly cumming pussy grinding hotly against the mewling girl's hand as they writhed in mutual rhythmic release upon the soft sofa.
Callie felt as though she was dying of delirious fulfillment as her hotly quivering cunt shuddered in ecstasy beneath the wanton brunette's skilled, pussy-exciting fingers.
She fell into a rainbow-sparkling cloud of bliss as wave after wave of pure physical sensation cascaded over her from the top of her head to the tips of her involuntarily curling white toes. Every time the incredible feeling started to fade, Bridget would, despite her own overwhelming orgasm, once again finger-fuck her wildly quivering pussy and send yet another sensual shudder of indescribable ecstasy shooting through her hot, vibrating young cunt. It seemed to go on and on for an eternity, until as last, Callie collapsed in unconscious satiation upon the sofa.
Bridget, her huge sensuous tits quivering from her own explosive cum, lay down beside the half-naked, perspiration slick body of her brother's girlfriend. For several minutes she struggled to regain her breath ... the young girl's pussy was so sensual, so soft and hot.
Suddenly, just as both girls were dozing off into a blissful, post-orgasmic slumber, there came the unmistakable thud of Nick's heavy boots on the porch. Callie was too dazed to be aware of anything save her own still-trembling young cunt, but raven-haired Bridget jolted into instant alert wakefulness.
"Cherie! Get up!" she hissed into the young blonde's ear. When there was no response, she forcefully tugged the tousle-haired artist to her feet and shepherded her toward the stairs. "Get into the shower, or into bed, cherie," she ordered. "Nick's back."
Callie stumbled numbly into the guest bedroom which had now become her private sanctuary. Too dazed by the unanticipated events of the evening to think clearly, she fell dizzily into bed and didn't wake until the hazy morning sun was shining on her pillow.
While the young blonde artist collapsed on her bed, the more self-assured, worldly French girl was greeting her boyfriend Nick. A thrill of illicit passion throbbed through her bloodstream as she thought of how she had made love twice today without Nick's knowledge, and something in her manner gave away her inner erotic excitement. Immediately after dinner and several whiskeys, Nick dragged his eager girlfriend upstairs and fucked her cunt with the same passion he'd displayed the previous evening.
Callie was sleeping too deeply to awaken at the loud sounds of their uninhibited fucking in the adjoining room, but the erotic noises penetrated her dreams ...
Callie was intensely ashamed of having allowed Bridget to finger-fuck her pussy the day before, but the voluptuous French girl acted so natural and cheerful that it was easy to push the perverted incident to the farthest corner of her mind. They spent most of the day cleaning up the house for the weekend guest, Byron Kealing, and as they worked together in the kitchen, it was difficult to believe that this charming brunette girl had actually fingered her to orgasm right on the living room sofa.
After they'd all had a few drinks early that evening, Bridget flashed the young blonde a few meaningful looks and even went so far as to give her a loving kiss when they brushed against each other in the hall leading from the living room into the kitchen. Callie knew she ought to feel more guilty than she did, but oddly enough she only felt a tingling pleasure and deep lying tranquility. Even Nick's smoldering glances didn't really bother her; for the first time in her life, she felt a warm glow of feminine pride instead of repugnance as the interested male eyes undressed her curvaceous young body.
The pretty blonde's good spirits prevailed throughout the next day as well after they had picked up the young musician at his hotel, and she found herself laughing even at Nick's and Byron's somewhat naughty jokes and joining in the conversation in a far more extroverted manner than usual as the four young people took a drive around the island. It was wonderful to be driving through a landscape so unpopulated that they scarcely ever passed another car. In her overwhelming wonder at the beauty of the scenery, Callie managed to shelve her guilty self-doubts. Every time she recalled her shameful activities of the past few days, Nick or Bridget or Byron would make an amusing comment which served to distract her. Around these carefree people, it was difficult to heed the dictates of one's conscience.
"We're back home," Nick, who was driving, reached over and patted Callie's bare knee. "Home, sweet home."
A tremor of familiar nervous embarrassment wafted through the blonde as the handsome artist's touch lingered a shade too long and intimately upon her leg, but then she told herself not to be ridiculous. After all, Bridget was there, and he surely didn't mean anything suggestive by merely patting her knee.
Still, I sort of wish I was sitting in the back seat with Bridget, with the guys in the front like before, Callie thought to herself. Somehow, when they'd stopped for gas, she'd ended up in the front beside Nick, with Bridget in the back with Byron Kealing. You'd think she'd feel kind of funny sitting so close to him.
"You have a very nice beach house," she smiled politely at the tawny-haired artist. "I-I've enjoyed my stay so far ...",
Nick grinned back at her, and something in his eyes made her suddenly feel so awkward and ill at ease that she swiveled around toward the couple in the back seat. Gosh! It seemed to Callie that Byron and Bridget were sitting rather closer together than strictly necessary.
Then, as the naive young blonde's vision suddenly blurred in astonishment, she snapped her head around to stare fixedly out the car's windshield. Oh God! It couldn't be true! It was unthinkable! Bridget's red-nailed hand couldn't really have been caressing the thick bulge between the young musician's legs.
Callie's shock-widened green eyes focused dizzily on the man beside her as her startled mind screamed, No! She can't be doing something so lewd, not with her boyfriend sitting two feet away. Abruptly, she realized that Nick was smirking at her and winking. He knows! her brain reeled in bewildered confusion. He knows that his own girlfriend is playing with a strange man's cock, and he thinks it's amusing!
And then, the car was pulling to a halt in front of the secluded house, and everyone was piling out of the car and acting as if nothing had happened at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
No one could act so normal and nice after doing an obscene thing like that. It was just my imagination, Callie thought an hour later as she and Bridget prepared dinner after having drinks in the living room. It's just my own perverted mind. I've been acting so perverted myself lately that I'm starting to imagine all sorts of crazy things about sex when someone does something perfectly innocent. Gosh, I must really be going crazy, no matter what Bridget said yesterday.
The innocent blonde had never tasted a martini until this evening, and two of Nick's drinks had put her in a dizzy, disoriented mood. Her voice sounded too loud in her own ears, her laugh too raucous. But it didn't seem to matter much, as the others were all going on in the same way. Besides, one had to speak up to be heard over the expensive stereo set which was blaring out an old Elvis Presley album at top volume.
I'm getting drunk, she realized. The steak and Caesar salad tasted the same to her drink-deadened taste buds, both like sawdust, and manipulating her fork suddenly seemed an intricate and unnecessarily complicated task. When the instrument slipped to the floor with a clatter, she didn't bother to pick it up and resume eating.
Everyone was seated around the huge stone fireplace in the living room, leaning back comfortably against brightly colored pillows in the glow of the flames. Leaning back against the wall behind her, Callie fell into a daydream of all the great paintings she would do.
"Time for a refill?" The daydreaming young blonde jumped, jolted from her pleasant reverie as Nick appeared at her side holding a newly opened wine bottle.
"Oh, n-no, I think-" she began, but before she could explain that she'd had quite enough to drink already, he had refilled her tall glass to the brim.
"Smoke?" he offered, sitting down close beside her.
Normally, Callie didn't smoke, but the burly man's close proximity made her so uncomfortable that she accepted the preferred Silva Thins with a timid smile. It's such a nice place!" she remarked, deciding that this was a relatively safe topic of conversation about which he'd not be able to make any of his smutty jokes. "I've really enjoyed myself and the art work you've shown me, they're magnificent."
Nick puffed up his chest with pride, for there was nothing he liked better than compliments. He had been praised highly by the New York critics at many important shows and was perhaps justified in his self-congratulatory attitude.
"I live for two things ... art and sex," he told the voluptuous green-eyed blonde, leaning close enough so that he could smell the flowery fragrance of her long golden hair. Nick, who liked to consider himself an expert on women, always claimed that you could tell the successful method to seduce a woman by noting what sort of perfume she used. Bridget, for instance, used a musky, vamp-like scent, and she used it liberally. The heady, seductive odor suited her admirably; no one ever had to feed Bridget lines or romantic compliments, for if she fancied a certain man,-she was generally the one who seduced him!
This hot little cunt, on the other hand, didn't use cologne at all, only lightly scented shampoos and soap which gave her the fragrance of an old-fashioned flower garden bordered by beds of herbs. She was innocent and timid as a wild primrose, and Nick knew she would shrink from too obvious a sexual overture. Of course, he already had the framework laid down for him, thanks to his voluptuous girlfriend and Byron's opportune suggestions.
As he explained his philosophy of art to the interested young artist-something he could talk about without effort, since he'd told it to each and every one of the many guests they'd brought here-he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Bridget and Bryon Kealing. The tall musician was the kind of guy with whom he got along well, as were all of his girlfriend's lovers.
"The "Atmospheric Paintings" that I recently exhibited in a New York Gallery are a challenge to the viewer," he continued, all the while surreptitiously watching as Byron and Bridget reclined on the bearskin rug before the fire and gradually moved near enough each other so that their bodies rubbed sensuously together. "They express much through deceptively simple means..." he was saying as he saw Bridget's manicured hand slip toward the unmistakable hard-on pushing out the dark-haired young man's jeans. His own prick leapt to life at the stimulating sight, and he edged a little closer to the beautiful huge fitted blonde.
Callie was totally oblivious to her surroundings as she listened in rapt attention to the handsome artist. Nodding and smiling, she felt grateful that Nick was much more of a talker than a listener since she felt a bit too intoxicated to carry on an intelligent conversation. She really wished he wouldn't keep refilling her wine glass but didn't quite know how to tell him to stop.
"I've achieved a certain type of light and movement," Nick continued. He wanted to keep the girl's attention so she wouldn't notice Bridget and Byron stealing out of the room and up the stairway leading to the bedroom. "The movement is especially important ... sensual, erotic. Do you ever look through any pornographic magazines?"
Oh dear! Callie gulped her drink and stared at the thick fuck carpet in embarrassment. Nick would manage to turn the conversation to a topic like that!
"No, of course not!" she said in an offended voice. "I'd never look at filth like that. What kind of girl do you think I am, anyway?"
Even as her indignant voice rang in her own ears, Callie felt a hot blush creeping up over her neck and cheeks as she recalled her wanton encounters with Barth Owens and Tommy Eamon, her voyeuristic indulgences, and her lesbian lovemaking with this man's voluptuous French girlfriend. That's the kind of girl she was, if the truth were to come out!
Goodness, she hoped Nick wouldn't see her blushing in the dim firelight and guess her sinful secrets.
"Sure you wouldn't like to take a look at some?" Nick leered placing his hand on the girl's knee. "Bridget gets a kick out of my pornography collection. I need it for my work. She says it makes her pussy all hot and horny to see all those nice hard cocks and pinkly glistening cunts."
The man's voice had dropped to a low, insinuating hiss, arid Callie hurriedly crossed her legs in an attempt to dislodge the hand pressing against her naked knee. This well-meaning effort only made her situation worse, for his kneading fingers slid onto the expanse of thigh flesh below her short skirt.
Gosh, I wish I'd worn my jeans, was Callie's first thought. Then, she lost her temper. He hasn't got any right to touch me like that, she bristled with indignant resentment. What on earth would Jacques or Bridget think of her.
"Pl-please, don't d-do that," she stammered, taking a deep swallow of wine to steady her nerves. "Please, Nick ... it's not right!"
"Awh, don't be silly!" he rebuked, throwing caution to the winds as his thickening cock beat a painful tattoo against his pants in response to the beautiful blonde's satin-smooth flesh. "You've got a gorgeous pair of legs, honey, and they were meant to be touched and enjoyed, not just looked at like a goddamn object d'art. And," he leered, grasping her nearest tit, "a pair of tits that any porn model would be proud of."
Restraining her initial impulse to slap him across the face-she was, after all, a penniless house guest, and he was paying Jacques's lawyer-Callie started to rise from her pillow on the floor. She'd go over and talk to Bridget and Byron instead of enduring this rude man's insults. But where were Bridget and the handsome musician?
Suddenly the floor spun beneath her and her knees felt as though their muscles and tendons had turned to water. Gasping, she collapsed back against the fluffy pillows.
I'm all alone with this lecherous drunken monster! her frightened mind cried. Even if he is Bridget's boyfriend, I don't th ink I trust him one bit. Oh, God, what's happened to the others? I just feel too dizzy and out of it to handle this all alone.
"Wh-where's Bridget?" she slurred, hoping the mention of his girlfriend would remind Nick Craven to keep his wandering hands to himself.
Nick leaned over the trembling blonde, his eyes two slits of implacable lust, looking just like the man and boy who'd practically raped her in North Carolina. His powerful arm encircled her cringing shoulder and his fingers pressed into the tender flesh of her upper arm as he replied to her question.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about Bridget-baby. She's doin' what she-likes best in this world-fucking!"
" Wh-what?" Callie nearly jumped out of her skin with shock. So she hadn't been hallucinating when she thought she'd seen Bridget fondling the strange man's cock in the back seat of the car, nor Nick's lewd wink of compliance. It was too much!
"I ... I don't be-believe it," she stuttered unconvincingly, cringing away from the man beside her.
"You don't?" Nick smirked. "Well, c'mon then, I'll prove it to ya!"
Callie resisted as he tried to tug her to her feet, but with his superior strength he easily yanked her to a standing position. Is this man crazy? she wondered dizzily. How could he react like this when his own girlfriend was letting another man fuck her pussy.
"C'mon, baby, let's watch the show," Nick insisted, twisting her wrist so painfully that she gasped in anguish as he pulled her across the room toward the stairs. "You'll like it, don't tell me you won't. Make your pussy all nice and wet."
"No, no, no!" Callie protested weakly. "I d-don't want to go up there."
Yet something in the man's voice told her that he knew of her sinful voyeurism. He must have seen her outside his bedroom door, seen her touching her pussy and rubbing the statue's huge wooden prick against her cunt. Praying that her suspicions were based purely on paranoia, she struggled futilely against the strong-muscled male.
"What's your problem?" Nick barked out. "Don't put on an innocent act for me. I know you like tongues and fingers playing around in that hot little pussy of yours, and I bet you like a big thick prick even better. You aren't foolin' me, baby."
Callie's angelic face blanched to a shade of grayish-white, and then two bright crimson spots appeared on her cheeks. Moving like a person in a state of acute shock, she allowed the lewdly chuckling artist to drag her toward the wooden staircase.
How does he know? Did he see me in his bedroom door with that nasty statue of his nibbling my pussy? Or did Bridget betray me and tell him everything? Callie's head was spinning in crazily careening circles, and she blinked to keep from breaking into childish tears. What did it matter how he knew that she was an immoral tramp, the fact that counted was that he did think of her as a slut and was therefore going to treat her accordingly-as she deserved.
The despairing blonde's feet were so clumsy from the unaccustomed amount of alcohol she'd consumed that she stumbled noisily on her way up the stairs, and she hoped that Jacques's sister and the handsome young man wouldn't hear. Nick was crazy, intoxicated; surely the other couple were just having a nice talk.
This is the most horrible moment of my entire life! the young blonde over-dramatized.
"Pl-please, please," she pleaded as the heavily breathing man shoved her toward the slightly ajar sleeping loft doorway. "I ... I just want to go back to my own room. Please, let me go!"
"Ah, come on, babe," Nick laughed in a coarse fashion that made Callie's blood freeze to ice in her veins. "You'll love watching ol' Bridget screw."
Ignoring her whimpers of protest, the lust-maddened artist pulled her toward the slightly open door and pressed her face against the crack. By twisting his hands rather brutally in her silky golden curls, he compelled her to stare at the scene taking place inside the loft bedroom.
I won't look! Callie vowed staunchly. I'll ... I'll just keep my eyes shut. But after a moment her curiosity overcame her, and her lids fluttered open to peer through the semi-darkness at the couple on the king-sized bed. As soon as her eyes accustomed themselves to the flickering light cast by the smoldering embers in the fireplace at the far end of the room, she let out a gasp of shocked astonishment.
"What are they doing, babe?" Nick hissed into her ear. "A little hot fucking?"
Callie shuddered as the huge bulge in his pants pressed against her, and she tried to ease her thighs away from the nasty throbbing thing that was pulsing against her upper leg like an out-of-control metronome. Despite her fearful revulsion at the muscular man's overly intimate proximity, however, some hypnotic magical force kept her eyes glued to the wantonly fucking couple on the bed.
The shadowy figures were completely naked, and they lay practically still. At the faint sound of Callie's incredulous gasp, Byron Kealing's head rose from the pillow, and although it was difficult to tell for certain in the dim light, Callie thought he winked at her. She hurriedly backed away from the half-open bedroom door and then gave another involuntary gasp as she fell into Nick's strong, ardent embrace. Once again, she felt his hugely pulsating cock throbbing against her thighs, his insistent tongue probing at the nape of her neck, sending thrills of unwanted desire tingling through her cunt.
"Sssssshhhhhh," Nick Craven hissed in the anxious blonde's ear. "Keep cool. So long as they think we're playing the same game, they won't mind us watching." And are we ever playing the same game, he told himself in silent jubilation. Soon, real soon, we'll all be fucking together.
" W-what do you mean...?" Callie breathed, a shudder of icy premonition coursing through her innocent body.
"I said, be quiet."
Though the man behind her spoke in a low whisper, there was a threatening undercurrent in his voice that told her not to disobey him. She recalled the brutal way he'd fucked Bridget that night when she'd spied on them, and decided the safest thing to do was not to make him any angrier. Therefore, even when Nick's arms circled around her and began unbuttoning her embroidered white blouse, she did not dare to protest.
Nick's breath quickened and his hugely throbbing cock gave an aching lurch of excitement as his practiced fingers unhooked Callie's bra in one smooth motion. Then, clamping his big hands on the quivering girl's naked, sensuously trembling tits, he pinched her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and began a maddening manipulation of the immediately hardening little buds.
Pinpricks of shameful sensation raced from the twenty-year-old's ecstatically billowing tits to every nerve-ending in her tiny, traitorously tingling clit. I've got to escape from him before I lose control! she thought desperately, for the first flames of a now familiar unwanted passion were starting to burn in her hot little pussy. I can't let myself show him
I'm feeling sinful pleasure, it's too humiliating. It makes me even more degenerate than he is. But maybe I am!
Then, twisting around with the intention of making one last effort to plead for mercy from the lusting artist, Callie stared at the older man with a tearful expression that would have roused pity in the heart of almost anyone-but not Nick Craven. Her large, green eyes, glazed from alcohol and fear, peered deep into Nick's face, searching desperately for a spark of human decency amidst the glinting lights of lust.
"We m-mustn't, Nick!" she whimpered softly. "It's wrong, horribly wrong! Think of my Jacques ... your girlfriend's brother."
But his face was a devilish mask of unbridled lust as he roughly thrust Callie's face back to face the other wildly fucking couple inside the bedroom.
"Far out," he leered. "He's going down on Bridget."
Innocent young Callie had never heard anyone use this phrase, and told herself that she didn't want to know whatever vulgar activity it described. Nevertheless, her gaze was drawn like a magnet to the adulterous twosome on the large, king-size bed. When she realized what was going on, a ripple of horrified fascination ran from the top of her scalp to her tiny white toes, which curled up involuntarily inside her sandals.
The naked, obscenely entwined couple were no longer lying still, but instead were positioning themselves so that Bridget's smoothly curving ass-cheeks were waving over Byron's eagerly grinning face, and her dark curls were hovering over his thickly pulsing, erect cock. From her place just outside the open door, Callie had an obscene view of Jacques's sister's naked, sensuously wiggling ass-cheeks and her glistening pink cunt with its fringe of sparse, softly curling pussy hair.
"So now you know how you look down there in your greedy little cunt," Nick hissed in the quivering girl's ear as he withdrew his left hand from her whitely trembling tit and slid it slowly, teasingly up the bare skin of her upper thigh. "Maybe you got pretty yellow pussy hair, baby, but a cunt's a cunt."
Callie cringed in shame at the sandy-haired man's vulgarity, and then she shuddered violently in dread-or was it anticipation-as his unstoppable fingers crept under the tight elastic cuntband of her white cotton panties.
"N-n-no!" she stuttered, afraid to speak too loudly for fear she'd be overheard. "No, Nick, nooooo! My pussy doesn't want to be kissed or fucked."
Nick acted as though he hadn't even heard her faint protestation. He was panting in lecherous impatience now that he'd made contact with Callie's softly curling pussy curls, and without hesitating one instant, he eased his fuckfinger along the smooth, moistly heated slit of her hotly quivering pussy.
"Wet already, huh?" he sneered. "That kinda blows your goodie-goodie act, baby."
It was true. Her shameless, eagerly pulsating cunt was growing damper by the minute as the ruthless artist teased at her ultra-sensitive cunt lips, at the same time continuing to titillate her huge, fire-filled titties. His insistent stimulation of her sensuous, long-denied young cunt was too much for her to fight, especially when she was so intoxicated. Something's really wrong with me! she despaired. I should he absolutely repulsed by this; I ought to claw him and kick him and try everything possible to escape. But here I am just standing here and letting him touch my naked titties and cunt and I'm even liking it. I can't deny it! I like the way his hands feel rough and sure, better than Jacques felt, more forceful, more determined, more obscene. Yes, obscene! And I even like the dirty way he talks. Oh, God, yes, I'm really just a sick, sluttish pervert. I love the dirty way he talks and it gets my pussy so hot!
"Oui, oui, big boy, ooohhhhh, that's good!" a loud groan from Jacques's sister broke through Callie's guilt-ridden reverie. "Ohhhh. Oooooohhh! Your tongue's driving my hot little pussy cra-zzzeeeee!"
All of the young artist's attention reverted to the salacious spectacle which was being enacted in front of her incredulous eyes. Byron's mouth was pressed right up against the mewling French girl's hungry pussy, with the dark strands of her pussy curls mingling among the reddish-brown hairs of his mustache. As she watched in mesmerized disbelief, she caught a glimpse of Byron's long red tongue snaking out to embed itself deep up inside Bridget's nakedly spread cunt.
How can she like a disgusting thing like that? Callie's befuddled brain spun in wild confusion. She's wicked. Depraved. But another voice answered from the back of the girl's brain as Nick's finger started tweaking at her wantonly tingling clitoris. This second voice rang louder, more insistently, more truthfully ... but you, Callie O'Hara, look at yourself. You know you wish it was you there on the bed with a man's tongue licking your pussy!
"Oh, no! I can't look! It's disgusting!" Callie whimpered, but her words were merely trying to deny her own rising tide of passion, and therefore sounded unconvincing even as they echoed in her own ears.
Then, as a second audacity met her shocked gaze, Callie's whole body began to quiver hotly as she watched Bridget oval her lipstick-smeared lips tightly around her young lover's heavily throbbing prick, making obscene sucking noises as she drew the burgeoning instrument deeper into her throat. Remembering the heady taste of Barth Owens's cum, the helplessly aroused blonde could not control her body's uncontrolled shaking, nor the fire burning in her cunt.
Bridget's red lips withdrew almost all the way from the hugely pulsing cock, locked around its head for a minute, then hungrily gulped the saliva-glistening prick back down into her madly contracting throat. An incoherent groan of wanton bliss burst from her cock-impaled lips as Byron's lust-swollen balls jounced sensuously against her chin. A momentary impulse to scream out at the top of her lungs and put an end to this vile obscenity surged through Callie, but she remained cemented to the spot outside the door, watching in mute fascination as her sister-in-law to be's head bobbed up and down over the young man's lewd mouth-fucking prick, and her dark-rimmed pussy squirmed down on his face in a delirium of wantonness.
Nick's eager fingers were tugging Callie's panties down to her knees to make more room for his finger, which continued to massage her heatedly swelling clitoris. Finally, disregarding the blonde's low outcry of dismay, he sank his rampaging fuckfinger into the cringing channel of the young artist's desire-dampened pussy.
Callie forgot all about the obscenely engaged couple inside the bedroom at the ultimate outrage of feeling the crude man's finger slip inside the most private part of her entire body ... her pussy! Almost at once, he withdrew his lewdly fucking finger from her hotly devouring cunthole.
Thank God! she breathed in silent relief. That's all he's going to do-he's just been teasing my pussy. Yet, deep inside her feverishly churning cunt was a slight suggestion of regret, a vague feeling of emptiness as the finger left her pussy with a lewd sluicing sound.
"Okay, bitch, your pussy's all nice and juicy and ready for my prick!" Nick said, no longer taking any precautions not to be overheard by his girlfriend and her young lover, Byron Kealing. "Go on, get over there by the fire. Lie down on the rug and get your pussy ready for the best fuck of your life, baby."
The inexperienced blonde could scarcely believe her ears. Nick couldn't actually expect her to enter a room where two other people were naked and licking each other's cock and cunt. How could he be so insufferably cruel as to fuck her pussy in the presence of Byron and Bridget-her own fianc�'s sister!
She shot Nick a glance of mute misery, a plea for mercy, but he only laughed in her face and shoved her into the room so forcefully that she stumbled forward onto her knees. Oh God. How I must look, she moaned dazedly to herself. Her embroidered white blouse had fallen off her shoulders as she tumbled to the carpeted floor, her huge, ripe young tits swaying beneath her like ripened fruits ready to be picked, and her short blue skirt had ridden up around her slim waist to reveal that her panties were missing.
"Go on!" Nick hissed behind her, overwhelmed with his sadistic power over the voluptuous young girl. "Crawl over to that fire, like I told you. Lie down on the mat and point your naked ass at me."
"Oh, no, no!" Callie whimpered. "I can't do that. Please don't make me."
"Do like I said, or you'll be good and sorry."
Shaking in fearful dread, the nearly naked young blonde did as she was commanded. She didn't dare look toward the bed; surely Byron and Bridget had heard Nick's loud voice above the sound of their wanton moans and grunts. They must be watching as she crept in slave-like subjugation across the dimly lit bedroom toward the fire. In front of the glowing embers, she would be doubly exposed, she thought dully, not daring to glance toward the bed.
"That's a good girl," Nick leered behind the tear-blinded young blonde. "Now kneel down and stick that ass up in the air, 'cause I've got one hell of a treat for it, baby."
Unbidden spasms of strange masochistic pleasure blended with Callie's sincere shame as she arranged her half-naked body in the way Nick had instructed. I'm helpless, utterly helpless! Callie shivered. Oddly enough, the realization of her total subjugation was as exciting as it was fearsome, and without even being told to do so, she spread her legs into an obscene, spread-eagled position.
"That's the way, you sweet little tramp," Nick gloated. "Spread those legs. But you gotta get the rest of those clothes off, 'cause I want to see just what you've been giving away to Bridget's brother!"
Callie froze, paralyzed with shame and fear as she heard the unmistakable metallic sound of a zipper being yanked open. Glancing timidly over her shoulder, she saw that Bridget's lust-crazed boyfriend was tugging his pants down over his powerful hips and well-muscled legs. Oh God! He really intended to fuck her pussy right here in the same room with his girlfriend and her young lover.
"I ain't kidding, bitch," Nick growled. "If you won't get naked, I'll tear the fucking clothes off your back."
"No ... please ...", she whimpered.
There was a loud sound of ripping cotton, and the terrorized blonde felt goose bumps break out on her exposed flesh as her remaining protective garments were brutally torn from her.
First to go was her white bra, which was already unfastened and dangling loosely from its shoulder straps. An instant later, her blue skirt was wrenched from her obscenely upraised ass-cheeks. Since the lust-maddened artist hadn't wasted valuable time undoing the hooks and buttons, her second-best piece of clothing was in shreds.
A pang of guilty desolation caused Callie's wantonly positioned body to shudder. Poor Jacques! He's sitting in some bedbug-infested jail cell, and here I have let a total stranger fuck his prick into my mouth, a young boy fuck my ass-hole ... I've let his sister finger-fuck my naked pussy ... and now ... oh God!
But I want it. I want it! I want Nick's huge prick to fuck deep up into my hot little pussy.
As Nick Craven stared down at the voluptuous figure of the naked blonde, an exciting inspiration entered his lust-crazed mind. Christ, I'll bet there's a virgin ass-hole between those lovely white ass-cheeks, he told himself. Jeeees, how come I didn't think of that till now.
Suddenly, with a cry of desire, he dropped to the floor and roughly spread Callie's nakedly trembling thighs as far apart as they would go. Then, with a bestial groan, he buried his head between her widely spread legs and probed his hungry tongue straight into the warmly pulsing hole of her pussy.
"Oh, God ... nooooooo, please. Not that! Oooohh!" Callie whimpered, grinding her body down against the floor in a futile effort to escape the artist's animalistic assault.
"Shut up, you stupid bitch. You'll love it." Callie's body went limp with acute shame, for there was no way to deny his vicious accusation and now he was surely tasting the cunt juices of her unwanted arousal. Her pussy, already lewdly excited by his earlier fingering, was betraying her once again, and she realized it was impossible to fight the shivering wisps of ecstasy which were starting to ripple through her obscenely tingling cunt.
Faster and faster Nick fucked his long skillful tongue into the pink moistness of Callie's ecstatically quivering cunt, every now and then nipping at the trembling pink bud of her clit. As he stepped up his pace, he could tell from her quickened breathing and the involuntary undulations of her sensuously wriggling cunt that she was truly becoming his willing sex-slave.
"You really are a hot little slut, aren't ya?" he gloated, then suddenly pulled his tongue from the tightly clasping walls of her desire-drenched cunt. "C'mon, tell me you want more. Tell me!"
Something snapped inside Callie at the cruel man's challenge, and suddenly nothing at all mattered except the aching emptiness up inside her hotly throbbing pussy. Every cell in her young body was soaring toward a wild cum, and she would die if she didn't achieve fulfillment! What were pride, morality, decency, compared to the burning need inside her nakedly spread cunt?
I'm just a slut, like Nick says! Callie thought, and an excited thrill of lewd masochistic ecstasy at the idea of her own debasement shot through her.
"Yeah!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Yeah, I do want more. I need it. Oh God, lick my pussy ... don't stop. Don't ever stop!"
By now Callie had completely forgotten the presence of Bridget and Byron, who were watching and listening to her obscene surrender with triumphant smiles. Yet even they were a little surprised when Nick's red tongue snaked into the tiny puckered hole of Callie's ass rather than back into her hotly glistening pussy.
"Oooooohhhhh, no. Nooooooo!" Callie howled, cringing as the squirming tongue probed without mercy into her opening. "Oh, God, not in my ass-hole. Don't stick your tongue in my ass-hole!"
A coarse, guttural chuckle burst from Nick's lips. "You said you never wanted me to stop, honey, and I'm not. But don't worry, you'll like it soon enough, you hot little bitch."
How could anyone ever like this? Callie wept. It's sick! But despite her gnawing repulsion, it was mere seconds before out-of-control spasms of unwanted bliss were once again racing through her traitorous young cunt. For a short while she tried to fight her shameless arousal, only to find that nothing, not even conjuring up the face of her faraway boyfriend, Jacques, could stem the rising tidal wave of her passion.
Byron and Bridget had crawled to the end of the bed and were gaping in delighted fascination as the young blonde's smoothly curved ass jerked convulsively and commenced a wanton grinding undulation up against Nick's obscenely fucking tongue. Their plans had worked out better than any of them had ever dared to hope! A lingering worry hovered in the voluptuous French girl's mind, however. Would Nick try to plunge his gargantuan cock into Callie's virginal little ass-hole and hurt her so much that all her newly abandoned inhibitions would return?
A minute later, Bridget's fears were realized as Nick's eager, pussy juice-slickened face pulled away from the girl's obscenely writhing ass-cheeks. He licked his lips, obviously savoring the taste of fresh young cunt juice, then took his hugely pulsing prick in one hand and spread the mewling blonde's whitely trembling ass-cheeks with the other. Positioning his lust-swollen cockhead at her tiny, visibly puckering ass-hole, he made a sudden swift forward movement of his hips, and grunted as he saw the tight little ass-hole stretch ... and then devour the tip of his huge, excitedly throbbing prick.
"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!" Callie screamed as unexpected pain shot through her nakedly up-turned ass. "You're killing me! Stop. Stop!"
. Never in her twenty years had the sexually inexperienced young artist felt a pain so intense. It was as though her entire ass-hole was on fire, and every inch of her tortured flesh was pulsing with indescribable agony. Oh God! It serves me right! her dazed mind wailed. I'm being punished for acting like a whore. Even if he kills me, it's what I deserve.
Then, as Nick forced his cruel ass-stretching hardness several more agonizing inches into Callie's uselessly resisting ass-hole, all thought vanished from her mind. Stars swam before her eyes and her body jerked weakly beneath the burgeoning fleshy cudgel driving up into her rectum, and she felt as though she were drowning in a dark sea of pain. But, just as the ravished blonde fell into this state of semi consciousness, a surprising thing happened. Her cock-impaled ass-hole automatically relaxed, allowing more space for the lust-swollen prick, and after a time the blackness before Callie's eyes began to clear and she realized with a start of shock that the pain was no longer unbearable. Instead of feeling as though a red-hot poker were fucking up between her trembling, painfully stretched ass-cheeks, the girl now felt only a not-unpleasant throbbing pressure. Thank God! was her first reaction. I'm not dying after all.
Then, as the first wisps of masochistic pleasure-pain arose deep up in her shamelessly spread loins, relief was replaced by horrified shame. No, no, no! she screamed in silent panic. I can't be feeling like this, not when he has his lewd thing up inside my little ass-hole. It's impossible.
"Feels good, huh?" Nick panted above her. "You like getting it in the ass, honey?"
He knows! Callie despaired. She had never imagined she could feel so filthy and degraded as she did at this moment. It's all over. Oh, I can't fight any more. I'm just a cheap, perverted whore, and he knows it.
"Go on, Callie," Byron called out suddenly from the corner of the room. "Move that ass! Yeah, baby, oh Jesus, Jesus, move that ass of yours all around his prick!" Byron shouted.
"Give it to her, Nick!" Bridget seconded, "Give her your cum in the ass."
When Callie O'Hara felt a lewd thrill of exhibitionistic pleasure instead of the shame and humiliation she ought to have felt, she realized that she'd lost her battle to retain any shred of human decency. Here she was, allowing her boyfriend's sister's lover to fuck her in the most despicable way imaginable, while his girlfriend and a strange young man watched her as though she were performing in a cathouse, and her pussy was feeling so aroused that she could no longer contain her forbidden pleasure!
As Callie began shoving her smoothly curved ass-cheeks back to meet the punishing strokes of his wildly fucking cock, Nick knew she was conquered. Gone forever was the haughty little prude. Now, she was just a hungry cunt like every other woman, begging for any man with a hard cock to still the lustful fires burning in her little sensuously throbbing cunt. He was so excited by his successful breaking down of this voluptuous young blonde that the cum began boiling and churning in his cum-swollen balls.
"You like this, Callie?" he gasped, fucking between her dancing white ass-cheeks harder than ever as his orgasm grew nearer. Crap, he wasn't going to be able to hold back from creaming up her ass much longer, but his triumph would be incomplete unless he heard her screaming for more cock. "C'mon!" he commanded. "Tell me you like it. Tell me you like this fantastic prick of mine fucking up your ass!"
Oh, God, I love his prick fucking up my ass, Callie thought excitedly. Her erect little clitoris was being pressed against the floor with each violent stroke of Nick's hugely fucking cock, and she felt the first whispers of a powerful climax building in her wantonly writhing cunt. She had already sunk to such depths of depravity that the once innocent young artist knew she would never be the same again; why not make her downfall complete by screaming out like the vile slut she really was?
"Yeah, I like it. It's goooooodddddd!" she whimpered. The sound of her lewd admission excited her, and she cried out in a louder voice, "Give me your cock! In my ass-I like it ... I love it! Oooooohhhhhhhhh!"
An ear-splitting groan broke from Nick's lips, and then searing floods of white-hot cum were spurting against the walls of her spasming ass passage. Again and again her ravished ass was sprayed with thick jets of boiling cum, filling every inch of her burning channel until it flowed out over her nakedly quivering thighs and ass-cheeks in thin, glistening rivulets.
"Don't stop ... not yet,, . . !" she implored, for the obscene sensation of feeling heated cum fill her hungrily devouring ass-hole brought her own cum closer. "I'm almost there. Almost there ...",
But her pleas of carnal lust were useless. Nick's limp and useless cock slipped with an obscene wet pop from Callie's still achingly yearning body, leaving her writhing on the floor in depraved desire.
"Oh, no ... Oh, God, noooo ...", she mumbled incoherently.
On the bed, Bridget Lamothe and Byron Kealing exchanged a delighted glance of burning lust. With a lascivious chuckle, the naked young musician leapt to the floor and grabbed Callie, turning her over on her back. Within seconds, his hotly throbbing cock was fucking deep up into her wetly welcoming pussy, and it never occurred to Callie O'Hara to protest! After long years of sexual repression, she reacted to her new-found sensuality by becoming virtually insatiable, surprising even her corrupters by her wanton appetite.
Whenever the memory of Jacques pricked at her conscience, she quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind. In fact, Callie didn't allow herself to think about much of anything during that long night. She was nothing now but a body with three different openings for tongues, fingers, and beautiful big cocksl
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and Callie O'Hara hummed happily as she fixed Nick, Byron and Bridget a breakfast of strong black coffee, fried eggs, sunny-side up, and whole wheat toast with strawberry jam. Outside the kitchen window, Callie could see a hummingbird darting about the sweet smelling honeysuckle bush.
Upstairs, she could hear Nick's discordant voice blasting out a dirty but cheerful rendition of the Beatles's "Hard Day's Night," and a contented smile flickered over her lush pink lips as she remembered her passionate night of fucking. Wriggling her smoothly curved ass-cheeks beneath one of Bridget's sheer nighties, she delighted in the sensation of Nick and Byron's still-damp cum down in her naked little pussy.
"God!" she murmured as she poured some tomato juice. "Life is wonderful! Bridget and Nick are wonderful too. Imagine them wanting me to stay with them, the three of us together in this house, until Jacques is released from prison and comes back from Greece. And Nick letting me use his artist's studio. It's my dreams come true!" He isn't such a bad guy after all, she thought dreamily. And Bridget is just a darling, too. Why, earlier that morning, looking at some of my sketches in bed, Nick even called up a friend of his who owns a gallery in Boston, who said he'd love to show my work! Oh, Jacques will be so proud of me when he comes back. Nick said I even had the potential to become great. And how sweet of him; he had hired a male model who would be coming in that morning so she could begin work that day!
In the short time that Callie O'Hara had been with Bridget and Nick, she could hardly be recognized as the same innocent girl. Her outer appearance was not so very different, and she was as lovely as ever. Mostly, it was her manner which had radically changed. She walked with a provocative sway of her hips this morning, thrusting out her huge ripe tits and wiggling her ass.
Nick, Bridget, and Byron had come downstairs and gobbled their breakfast. Nick was anxious to go back to the lake to complete his preliminary sketches for a painting he was planning to start, and Byron "had some business" to tie up and thanked his hosts gratefully for the fantastic time they had shown him and promised to return soon.
Finally, Callie and Bridget were left in the kitchen alone, in their see-through nighties.
"Mmmmmmm ... your model should be coming by soon now, Callie, cherie," Bridget smiled. "Have a wonderful day with him, darling, in the studio, and be sure to call on me if you feel you need any, shall we say, help?"
"Hi there," a voice suddenly greeted them from the open kitchen door. Guess I'm kind of early, but ...", the handsome young man's voice faltered when he saw the two voluptuous women in their see-through nighties standing in the kitchen. "Um ... I'm ... I'm the model ...",
Callie and Bridget merely giggled, invited him in and moved in so that they stood on either side of him, their virtually naked pussies almost grazing him in such a provocative way that the young man's attention immediately focused completely upon them. His eyes drifted down over Callie's and Bridget's tits, and he reddened. Shit, his cock was starting to lurch painfully in his jeans, and if he had to spend the whole day modeling for these two fantastic chicks, crap, he didn't think he'd be able to stop it!
Callie felt his eyes gliding over her body, sensing them pausing at her huge titties, naked beneath her nightie, and then locking on the strip of lace which made a pretense of covering her softly curling blonde pussy hairs. Smiling seductively, she followed his eyes and saw that several curling tendrils of golden cunt hair had escaped from the tight cuntband of her baby-doll panties. Then, so pointedly that the young model could not fail to catch her intent, she stared directly at the hugely swelling cock jerking in his pants.
For the briefest second the two girls' eyes met in a gleeful flicker.
"What do you think he's looking at?" Bridget asked Callie in an artificial tone which gave the young man the uncomfortable feeling of being a spectator rather than a participant in this bizarre conversation. "I bet he's looking at that cute cunt of yours," Bridget laughed. "Especially at the way those pretty little pussy hairs are sticking out!"
"Do you think he would like to have a look at my whole pussy, Bridget?" Callie's voice quivered with excitement as she observed the young man's cock thicken and his face redden. It gave her a strange thrill to see the power she had over this handsome young model, whom Nick had so thoughtfully called.
And he seemed so ... so astonished! He could be no older than she, and her growing arousal drowned out the last of her nagging doubts. She knew between her and Bridget they could seduce him by performing a lesbian act until he was too turned on to resist joining in their lewd games. And she looked again at the voluptuous brunette, knowing Bridget was thinking the same thing.
Though she'd never done anything like that in her life, the idea of behaving with such incredible wantonness was curiously stimulating.
"I think," Bridget purred in her sultriest voice, "that he wants me to take off your baby-doll panties so he can see your lovely cunt."
The male model's face contorted in confusion as he saw that the beautiful brunette was doing exactly what she'd said she would. His tongue snaked nervously over his suddenly parched lips and he gulped in embarrassment as he grew alarmingly aware of the throbbing bulge in his tight pants.
Crap! Dreaming semi-seriously about chicks had been one thing-but this? What the heck had gotten into these two chicks to make them act like this? Part of him wished they'd stop, for he didn't want to lose his self-control after the optimistic feeling he'd had about getting some work, but the more compelling voice in his soul wanted to watch the two girls do whatever they wanted to do-hell, he wasn't going to complain.
The young man, whose name was Ron, watched with wide eyes as the brunette's slim fingers slipped inside the blonde's baby-doll panties, cupping her lushly rounded ass-cheeks for a moment, and then tugging the tiny lacy bit of material off. Never taking her eyes from the young man's startled face, she softly stroked Callie's sparsely curling pussy hair with one hand. "What's your name?" she purred sensuously.
"I-I'm Ron Mitcher. Umm ... Nick Craven called me ... me this morning about doing some modeling for an ar-artist ...", he stammered.
"Callie here is your artist. She is planning to begin a painting today ... aren't you, cherie?" Bridget looked up at Callie, who nodded and smiled sweetly.
"D-does she want me to get naked?" Ron's voice was low and breathless as he fell into the spirit of the game, and Callie's pussy was starting to tingle wantonly at the feel of the wicked French girl's hands that were slowly massaging her smoothly curved naked ass-cheeks. Golly, it was so exciting teasing this handsome, unsuspecting young man.
Bridget pursed her full sensuous lips as she glanced at the red-faced, noticeably disturbed young model, and then the tip of her tongue darted hungrily out of her mouth in the classic gesture of provocation.
"I think he wants to see me make your cunt hot, Callie," she said at last. "He wants me to put my finger up inside your soft little pussy, and suck your delicious naked titties ...",
The voluptuous French girl let her sentence trail off in tantalizing promise of what was to come as she grazed her right hand over Callie's golden pussy hair. Then, taking the other girl's hugely quivering naked tits in her hands, she gently pushed her to a bending over position on the kitchen table.
Ron stood a few feet away from the two sensuously enticing women, his breath coming in audible gasps at the incredible sight of the near naked girls he'd never seen before--one a beautiful green-eyed blonde with a soft southern drawl, the other a ravishing brunette with a sexy French accent. Crap ... could he possibly be dreaming? Ron asked himself. Nothing like this had ever happened to him in his whole life.
"Aaaaahhhh," the naked blonde sighed softly as Bridget's middle finger teased at her hotly tingling pussy for a moment and then slipped with an obscene sluicing noise up into her nakedly spread cunthole. "Oooo-hhhhhh ... ooohhhh!" Callie moaned. "Yes, finger-fuck my pussy like that, Bridget!"
Ron's incredulous eyes bugged from his head at the blonde artist's blissful moan and the glimpse he'd caught of her shamelessly quivering, pink pussy flesh. He couldn't take his eyes from the cock-hardening sight of the brunette's three fingers fucking up in Callie's pussy-hole. "Christ!" he muttered under his breath, as he watched the slow reemergence of the French girl's fingertips from the blonde's soft curl-rimmed pussy.
Callie's cunt-juices glistened on Bridget's middle finger as she slowly lifted her hand toward her face and licked the pussy juice away. All the while, her teasing eyes challenged the stupefied young man.
"Look at Ron," Bridget turned back to Callie at last. "I think he liked seeing me stick my finger in your pussy, cherie. Let's try it once more to make sure."
The naked blonde whimpered something incoherent so overcome was she by her own wicked corruption that she could scarcely move her parched lips. God, what would her Aunt Lizabeth do if she could see her now, Callie giggled to herself; her little niece being finger-fucked by another woman. How wicked. How deliciously wicked!
Suddenly, raging flames of arousal were shooting out from her finger-impaled pussy to every sensitized nerve-ending in her body. Part of her excitement stemmed from the delicious thrill of doing something strictly forbidden in front of a strange man and part was sheer animal lust. God, how wonderful
Bridget's gentle finger felt as it fucked back up into her lewdly trembling cunthole.
Oh, it's like heaven, Callie's pleasure-demented mind cried. Bridget knows just where to rub and press inside my pussy, and her thumb's on my clitty too! And Ron's eyes are popping out of his head and his cock out of his pants!
Ron shivered as the French girl's finger fucked back up inside the blonde's naked, bent-over pussy hole, pushing back the damp, softly curling cunt lips until it was imbedded all the way to the third knuckle.
Crap. His gaze shifted back and forth between the two beautiful young chicks, lingering first on the blonde, then on the petite brunette whose huge sensuous tits were rubbing up against Callie's naked body, the nubby lace fabric of the brunette's nightie teasing Callie's full, reddish brown nipples into taut, miniature erections. Suddenly Ron wished that the brunette, too, would take off her nightie so that both girls would be kneeling totally naked before him.
As though she were reading his mind, Bridget murmured to Callie, "I think Ron wants you to take off my nightgown too. He wants to see us both naked, cherie."
There was a low sucking sound as Bridget's middle finger once again slipped from the hot juicy walls of Callie's cunt, followed by a soft cooing sound as their lips met in a spontaneous kiss. Despite her giddy sense of erotic delight, the curvaceous blonde had no difficulty in tugging Bridget's lace baby-doll panties down over her soft, excitedly wriggling ass-cheeks. Obviously she could scarcely wait to get her hands on the huge-titted brunette's naked cunt.
Crap, I gotta get the hell outta here before I rape both of 'em, the young model told himself, but his feet refused to budge. He felt hypnotized by the girls' sensual performance. He had to see if they would really go all the way and make indecent lesbian love, as the French girl had hinted they would. Jeez, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. He'd always thought only perverts got a kick out of kinky stuff like this!
"Uuuuummmmmmmm ... gooooooddddd ...", Bridget whispered as her baby-doll bottoms were pulled over her feet by the sensuously quivering Callie. She knew that this was only the second time Callie had tried anything like this, and Bridget had been hardly able to wait for the two men to leave this morning. Bless Nick's scheming heart for sending over this handsome young boy. Well, it made seducing the hotly eager Callie all the more exciting with him watching.
Beads of perspiration broke out on Ron's handsome young face. Though he was still trying to convince himself that he didn't want to get physically involved in this lewd scene, crap, he was no fool. Someone, that Craven guy, who had called him, might come in. No telling what might happen. His face had taken on the look of a boy staring at an unattended chocolate cake.
The contrast between the petite brunette called Bridget and the curvaceous blonde artist was not only aesthetically pleasing, but also unbearably erotic. Each chick was, in her own way, a perfect example of a certain type of feminine beauty; together they merged into the essence of sensual womanhood. Bridget's huge, hotly quivering tits were only slightly smaller than the voluptuous blonde's and had bright strawberry-pink nipples that made the tortured young man suddenly want to take them in his mouth and suck until she screamed for mercy. The goddamn cock-teasing bitch! he screamed inwardly as his fully erect cock throbbed painfully against his pants.
Ron turned to Callie. She was cooing in a soft, vulnerable way and appeared to be as mesmerized by the brunette as he himself was. That little brunette bitch with the sexy French accent had been driving him crazy, too, and he couldn't stand much more of it. How he longed to rush up behind those naked, smoothly curved white ass-cheeks and fuck up into her hot little cunt with his prick. The lust-demented young man's reverie was interrupted by a low whisper from Bridget, who'd pulled the blonde, who had been bending over the kitchen table with her naked up-turned ass in the air while Bridget had been finger-fucking her greedily devouring little ass-hole, down so that they lay side by side on the kitchen floor with their huge naked throbbing titties and contrasting black and blonde pussies just barely touching.
"Ron wants me to kiss your pussy, Callie. And you'd like that too, wouldn't you?"
The sensuous blonde artist threw her young model a glance which caused him to break out in a cold sweat.
"Yeeeessss ... oooohhhhh, yes! If Ronnie wants me to," she purred. "If Ronnie wants me to ...",
Suddenly, his legs turned to water and he sank to his knees on the linoleum, his muscular young frame crumpling as though he were a marionette manipulated by forces beyond his contro. Oh, shhhhiiittttt! These chicks are really gonna do it ... they're really gonna do it! his innocent mind whirled in disbelief. They're gonna go all the way! Shiiitttt--damn! The gal must be one hell of an artist!
