"She's asleep," the man said. He had one hand in the blonde woman's blouse and another up her skirt, which was short to begin with.
"Uh... oh, Paul... " The blonde rolled her eyes indicating the other woman, who was slumped in the seat facing them.
"She's asleep," Paul said, squeezing the blonde's fleshy tit and her thigh both firmly and simultaneously. "Get ready to give some head!"
Brenda wanted to grin. Instead, she continued pretending sleep. She had a marvelous view of the couple, the good-looking black haired man and his blonde companion. True, her view was slightly shimmery, veiled by her lowered lashes. But she could see them quite clearly.
What she saw made her horny as a cat in heat. It wasn't just that she'd been so long without and regretted having refused to make it with the lawyer. It wasn't just that dark-eyes over there, Paul with the sexy mustache, had one hand out of sight in the blonde's blouse (which was already tit-stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey).
It wasn't just those things, potent as they were. There was more. The blonde wasn't wearing pants, for one thing. Round white thighs ran right up into her pale-furred snatch, which had just gulped two of the fingers of the man she had called Paul.
Brenda couldn't help wishing it were her own bulging cock-swallower that was wearing those hairy fingers up its hot, ever-dampening wrinkles. Hell, she'd even take three fingers!
She wished she could run her own fingers up herself.
Her thumb, maybe. (Her snatch felt as though full of crawling ants just at the thought. Ants in my pants, she thought.) Those two were exciting the piss out of her. (Oh no, not that]) But... she had to pretend sleep or she'd miss the whole show. Surely they'd stop and return to the newspaper and the copy of Holiday if she acted awake.
Paul's arm was moving, now. He was finger-fucking tie blonde's gash, with two lovely, hard, juicing, pushing, shoving, filling fingers... Brenda shivered. She could practically feel it, the fingers spreading the delicate hps glowingly apart, all warm and sort of harsh and male on the tender inner surfaces, sliding around on the juice there, then ramming straight through the fluffy hair and through the labia and up her slippery slit and into her juicing vaj.
She quivered, emitted a little moan-groan, and tried to cover up by stirring a little, eyes closed. Then she sagged.
Her skirt ran another inch up her thighs. They were good thighs, she knew that. She liked displaying them. She concentrated on her ass, scrooching down some more in her compartment seat.
Her skirt ran up another inch.
Paul's hand ran another inch up his companion's gap.
What a crazy situation! Brenda had never expected to find herself on a train, much less in a compartment, and certainly not sitting here feigning sleep while a very attractive man finger-fucked his nervous but willing companion! (Her legs parted some more. He looked like he was trying to get his whole fucking hand up her pussy. His knuckles were already wet.) But, with the planes grounded by the strike, it was take the train or else.
With the railways grooving on the pilots' strike and the train otherwise full up, it was pay for a compartment or else.
So Brenda took the train back, and she paid for the damned compartment. Not that it was private!
"Take it out, Roz," Paul said quietly. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling, shoving...
Brenda's guts tied themselves into a libidinous knot and she swallowed. She loved the man's mastering confidence. She also loved the looks of what Roz obediently took out of his pants. It stood up fat and sassy, firm and cocky, a fleshy ramrod of flesh that made the hot hole between Brenda's thighs go all wet and steamy.
Roz bent over the big branch sprouting from his trunk. Her blonde hair swung forward. So did her tits. He had opened her blouse nearly to her waist to get at them, and now one tit, large, warm, and alive, swung out of the rift. It slapped his leg and lay there, still fat. Mighty firm tits, Brenda thought, starting to ooze in the cooze. She was watching Roz's pink tongue run wetly out, watching his big dick lurch and throb as if trying to meet that promising tongue, watching him push the blonde head down and down...
Brenda wished she could run her own tongue out and moisten her hps. They felt terribly dry.
Paul was shuddering, now. The blonde's tongue was working on him, licking sweetly over the hard, glistening end of his prick. It looked harder, and it definitely took on more of a glisten. She was bent far over, her nimble little tongue stroking and caressing the quivering flesh of his gorgeous crank.
He shoved her head down.
She gulped. She suddenly had a mouthful of male meat. More than a mouthful. She was still gulping and gagging. A lot more than the big red head of his cock was inside the tight ring of her lips. Her naked knockers quivered, lying on his thigh like a tasty morsel served up by an artistic cook. Brenda could hear her slobbery gulping noises.
He eased the pressure of his hand and the blonde head came up fast. His prick plopped wetly out of her face and she gasped and sniffed.
"Darling," she said, accusingly, sort of whining.
"Maybe you'd better get on your knees, doll," he said.
"Oh�" she began, as if to protest.
But he interrupted her, scooping her other unbrassiered tit out of her gaping blouse. One hand closed on each swollen breast. Brenda could see that his thumb and forefinger were strong and ungentle on the warm, satiny fullness of those unveined breasts.
The blonde moaned and squirmed on the seat beside him. Now he was going after the nipples.
He pinched the pink buds lightly, titillating them in a way that made Brenda's titties feel tight. Then he released them suddenly. He and the sneakily-watching Brenda watched them quiver and spear the air as though faying to attract attention... as though yearning for further firm pressurings.
Then he snared them with fingers like pincers, clutching the spongy nipples with deliberate savagery and rubbing the quivery buttons sternly in his fingers.
If Steve had been that forceful, Brenda thought, I wouldn't be on my way home from Reno with my wedding ring in my purse!
"Now," he said, "get on your knees as I said and let's have some head!"
The blonde got down on her knees, on the train's vibrating floor, and gave him some head. She was a little in the way, and now Brenda wasn't getting quite as good a view as she had. But she could see her suck up an abundance of hard, pounding flesh. She took it into her mouth until her cheeks bulged, her face bloating, strained by the length and hardness of that big prong.
The squishing slurpy sounds of her mouth pumping rapidly, madly around the wet cock struck between her juicy hps made the man tremble in surging lust. She was giving his prick a good working over and his response was loudly proclaimed in his erratic breathing.
Oh, that was clever, Brenda thought. The blonde was twisting her shoulders seductively back and forth as she sucked cock. That way her naked breasts flopped and jumped and slapped his legs erotically. Brenda would remember that. She bet it felt great on his legs. And on her tits, too.
She quivered. How she wished there were a curtain or something between her and these sex nuts. How she'd like to run a finger or three inside the crotch of her panties and diddle herself while she enjoyed this free show!
But she couldn't. She had to slump there and pretend to be asleep, while her tits tautened and her pussy pulsed and juiced and her clit quivered.
Only about a third of that big handsome prick was protruding from her stuffed face, now. Where Boz was putting all that massy meat Brenda couldn't be sure, but the other woman wasn't unhappy about it. She was sighing in rapture around the bulging bone and her head bobbed back and forth.
She was fucking her face and sliding her hands up and down his thighs.
And he sat there with his eyes fixed on Brenda's parted legs!
Now his hands came out to clasp her head on either side of her strained face. He moved forward on the seat and she spluttered. He paid no attention. He began to fuck her face, driving his stiff cock in and out of her mouth and deep into her throat. His balls came out of his open fly and began banging her chin.
His eyes were still fastened on the slumped girl across the compartment.
Brenda swallowed, several times!
Then Roz, too, started swallowing. Paul was jerking and groaning and hunching hard. He smiled down at her, watching himself come.
Her throat worked hard, in a desperate, gulping effort to prevent herself from choking on the river of viscous fluid that already forced its way between her widestretched lips in a glistening white streamlet.
Come dribbled down onto the bare tits surging out of her partially-unbuttoned blouse and shone, wet and thick, on those heaving knockers.
He sagged back, holding the submissive blonde on her knees with his hand pressing down on her shoulder.
Brenda could see a last little ooze of his thick white come appear, growing slowly on the tip of his cock's red head. She shivered when Roz bent forward and lapped it sweetly off. Then Brenda could hear her smacking, gobbling mouth as she cleaned him up. She licked like a hungry cat.
Then the still-kneeling beauty sucked his inert penis back into the luscious recess of her mouth.
Her mouth formed a hot wet suction pump around his depleted dick. It pulled strongly at him until his eyes glazed and he stared down at her in a trance-like state of sensual stimulation.
Slowly, very slowly, his fellatist let his prick slide out of her mouth. Brenda was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't erect, but it was a lot longer and a lot harder, she could see that. What a man. What a cocksucker!
Roz got slowly, rather stiffly to her feet. Sitting there grinning at her, Paul idly fondled the pliant, generous dimplings that hung wantonly out of her blouse. She fidgeted.
"I�I have to pee," she said.
He nodded, giving her jugs a last squeeze. "Right. Don't forget to put your tits away!"
She giggled. "No danger, darling!" Pulling both sides of her parted blouse outward, she buttoned it carefully up over the surging twin swells. She started to go; he pulled her down to give her a kiss. Brenda watched his hand stroke over her broad bottom and her own ass tingled as if it could feel that nice big male hand on its rounded buns.
Then Roz straightened and left the compartment.
Brenda half-sat, half-lay in her seat, watching him while she pretended sleep.
He sat there watching her, his eyes moving from the swell of her dress's bodice to her face and down to where her skirt had ridden high over her parted legs and back up to her face again. And all the while he played with his cock. It got bigger and bigger. Brenda watched until it once again became a hard, stiff, helmet-headed spike that stood high before his belly.
Then, holding it with one hand, he got up and walked over to her. His cock had a big fat head on it like an overgrown kidney, and with him standing and her slumped this way it was right at her eye level. Its own eye seemed to stare at her. He continued stripping it up and down, slowly. She knew he was watching her.
Her stomach tightened up and suddenly her mouth was all full of saliva, as though she were watching something good to eat and smelling its savory aroma.
She was.
Oh my God, she thought. What's he going to do? Can I stand it? What if he's going to jack off on me while I just sit here? Can I stand to let that happen... I want that pretty thing! She trembled.
CHAPTER TWO
Brenda fought herself. She'd been too long without... without... It wagged before her face as he pumped it, very slowly. Cock. Big thick cunt-pleasing, mouth-watering erect cock. Right there in front of her. Staring back at her, like a cobra eyeing a victim it knew could not resist its charm.
She had to work to hold back her smile, too. It was quite a compliment, after all. He'd just been sucked off, and he'd creamed all over the blonde's tonsils. Now, Brenda thought, she was obviously affecting a tool that should have been tired and empty.
Her cunt rippled inside, feeling like her stomach when it growled. It felt like a big gaping hole in her, terribly in need of filling up. And here was the filler-upper. Right in front of her. All she had to do was open her mouth...
Her fingers twitched. She trembled.
But he was a stranger! She had to control herself. She couldn't just� "Oh go ahead," he said, and she jumped as the sound of his voice forced its way into her silent agony of indecision. "Why fight yourself and hang both of us up? Try it in your mouth for size�and when Roz gets back shell show you what a clever cuntlapper she is!"
Brenda's guts did flipflops. Her eyes took over for her; they opened all the way and rolled up to his face. His brown mustache wiggled sexily when he smiled. She dropped her eyes to his cock. He exerted the muscle that could make a hard-on jump, and it jumped invitingly.
"Oh damn," she sighed, and she went after it.
She didn't bother to lick it or play it around. She just made a big almost-round hole of her stretching lips and slid it right over the swollen knob of his alert tool.
His sweltering, ready-to-burst penis was eager to be devoured by this pretty little redhead with the well-stuffed blouse and the sprinkling of freckles across the top of her cute nose. He groaned, arching his body as her mouth and her passion engulfed him.
Fascinated and desperately aroused with a feeling of soaring triumph, he watched the fat crown of his tool vanish into her clamping, pale pink lips. She sat up and a little forward on her seat, submissively accepting and sucking his cock.
His body quivered with rhythmic tremors of lust as she sucked and licked, licked and sucked. She began to move her head, faster and faster. He listened to the lecherous slurping noises she made as she sucked cock with the eager avidity of a kid with a lollipop. He watched her nostrils flare and the well-filled bodice of her dress surge as her breathing stepped up, both in speed and heaviness.
His cock was big and thick and her mouth was small, a small mouth in a small oval of a face in a tiny, well-molded head barely capped with short red hair. She couldn't handle all of him, and her mouth was leaking.
He watched the streaks of saliva that dribbled from the corners of her sucking mouth and down into her V-front blouse, onto one pneumatic, swollen tit.
She moved her head steadily up and down between his hairy thighs.
The door of the compartment started to open and Brenda's heart leaped. But his hand came instantly onto her head and held her in place. Maybe she was dreaming. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself invisible to whomever was entering the compartment. Sucking softly, she heard the door close.
"Roz darling," she heard his voice say�she wasn't dreaming!�"this is Rusty. She needs to be eaten."
Brenda giggled. Rusty] But she didn't look up. She just sat there with her mouth full of sex meat. She didn't want to see Roz's face. She tried to remember what it looked like. Smooth. Prominently-boned as if hand-carved. Dimple-chinned. Nicely tanned. But she didn't want to look at that face. Not now.
As long as she kept her eyes closed she could pretend Roz wasn't there.
But he was pulling her to her feet, and she had to relinquish her oral grip on his cock. It slurped out of her face.
"Stand still," he said quietly, confidently, "and keep your legs together so we can get your pants off."
Enthralled into a completely passive submission, Brenda (Rusty!) obeyed. She acted hypnotized; she felt as if she were not really there, that she was standing someplace off watching this happen.
"Get her panties off, Roz. Lift your legs, Rusty." His hands were large and warm on her upper arms.
She thought about telling that her name wasn't Rusty. She didn't, though. She didn't want to. She didn't want to say anything. That would be admitting that she wasn't a helpless, mindless zombie. And that's what she preferred to be, what she had to be. Otherwise none of this would happen. All she had to do was say "No" or "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" And they would stop. But she clamped her lips. She didn't want to say anything. She didn't say anything. She didn't want them to stop.
"Tuck her skirt up into her belt," Paul said, and Roz did, rolling Brenda's skirt up, her hands warm and soft on her thighs and naked buttocks. She tucked it into the big green plastic belt, pushing it down inside with fingers that rubbed Brenda's skin inside the belt.
"Now get down there and start kissing and licking," he said.
Roz did. She wasn't saying anything either. Brenda stood there and stared at the knot in his necktie. She felt Roz's breath. Her belly tightened up. She felt Roz's hands, warm on her naked thighs. She felt Roz's tongue. Her legs quivered and her vagina burbled up more warm fluid. Roz was kneeling before her just as she had knelt before Paul, except that the blonde was lapping the sparse red cunt-hair of a woman who was a total stranger.
Brenda was so weak in belly and knees that she nearly fell when his hands left her upper arms. She opened her legs a bit. To maintain her balance, she told herself; to give Roz greater access to her pussy, her body told her right back.
His arm brushed her bloused, brassiered breast. His hands opened the buttons, one by one. Then he put his hand into his suit-coat pocket. He came out with a little black case and opened it. It was a mustache kit, a diminutive black comb with close-set teeth and a pair of tiny silvery scissors. He took out the scissors. Brenda held her breath as his hand came up. The scissors gleamed. Lifting the right shoulder strap with one hand, he slid the scissors under it. The metal was cold on her skin. He snipped her bra strap. Then the other one. The bisected straps flopped down her back and over her breasts.
He's ruining my bra, she thought, but without urgency. She didn't give a damn. She couldn't. Trying not to moan, she concentrated all her sensory responses on the sweet soft tongue working feverishly in and out of her open cunt and slithering over its lusty knob.
With the little mustache scissors, he snipped through the piece of cloth between her breasts and they were instantly freed, bouncing and quivering coolly, happy at their release from tight, sweaty confinement. She knew the pale pink aureoles were tightening up into smaller, goose-pimply circles, reacting to the new feeling of cool air on their sensitive flesh.
She didn't mind that he didn't tell her she had good tits. She knew. They were lavish, almost-snowy white treasures, set wide apart and full and heavy but in no way flabby. She knew very well how pretty and sexy they were, hanging there invitingly before her.
His hands slid up under each one. He cupped them from beneath. She sighed. She'd have liked to tell him how good that felt, and how good the mouth at her pussy felt, but she couldn't She couldn't break the rules. She had to be the silent, manipulatable object. Otherwise none of this could happen. It would all blow away in a cloud of sorcerous dust.
"Sit down."
Brenda sat. Roz knelt before her, between her wide-parted thighs, and played the tongue-in-the-hole game. Paul stepped astride her, and there was his beautiful cock again. Brenda wanted it, but she waited for him to tell her. Then she slid her mouth over it. It was savory, and tasty, and warm and thick in her mouth.
Brenda sucked a stranger's cock.
A stranger sucked Brenda's pussy.
A stranger played, rather idly, with her naked tits. A stranger had ruined her bra, turned it into waste.
She licked and sucked. Roz licked and sucked. The only sounds in the compartment were of their licking and sucking, and of heavy breathing.
The slight squirm of her haunches, naked on the compartment seat, ran her cunt along the tongue pistoning in and out of it. It began to expand and contract inside and it got wetter and wetter and hotter and hotter.
She sucked his prick, moving her mouth and running her tongue over it, but she wished he would fuck her face. She preferred the absolute feeling that this was happening to her and that she was a helpless tool, sucking his tool. That was more comforting; there was more security in it. She had no security. She had left all of that back in New York, and the rest of it in Reno, and the final dreg of her security was the plain gold band somewhere in her purse. She hadn't been able to throw it away, as so many other women did in Reno, once it was all over.
She hadn't been able to bring herself to ball with the lawyer, either, as so many others had, or with the bellboys or the sharp-eyed cats who were always hanging around, latching onto spanking new divorcees and probably notching fucks on the headboard of their bed like gunslingers notching their kills on the grips of their 44's.
If one of those leeches had taken a firm hand with her, or told her what to do or just moved in with a mucho macho show of machismo, she'd most likely have been on her knees with her mouthful of male meat well before now�or on her back with a cuntful.
But she couldn't think about all that right now. Right now she was busy. Right now Roz was doing a really fine job of sucking her steamy pussy and she felt honor bound to do at least as good a job on Paul's big throbbing hunk.
That was easy. He smelled good: male, and sex. He tasted good; male, and sex. It felt good in her mouth: male and sex, as well as hard and warm and very smooth to her tongue.
She began sucking powerfully, not letting it escape, drawing on it with all her sucking strength. Her lashing tongue worked greedily. Its tip was a flickering flame that danced over his bloodfilled glans.
Between her legs, meanwhile, Roz's tongue was threatening to sweep her away in a torrential flood of orgasm. Lustful thrills from her constant- ly-licked cunt were electrifying shock waves that tingled through her.
"Huhhhl" she gasped around the pulsing morsel splaying her hps; Roz's hps had suddenly enclosed the burning bud of Brenda's clitoris and she was applying a suction that was more than firm.
She began shaking, and jerking, again and again.
Afraid she was going to come and screw up in her cock sucking, she reached up and began fondling his balls with her hand. She had to hurry him up. She was going to come like the Fourth of July, and she'd love to have a mouthful of semen when she did.
She sucked voraciously, straining, her breasts standing high and shivering, her jaws and throat starting to ache with the effort. Her lips clamped and pulled.
Standing over her with his legs apart, he was jerking his hips back and forth now, fucking her face with an urgency that mounted with the congested feeling in his balls.
Suddenly he groaned. His body stiffened. She felt the sudden new swelling of his cock as the sperm-tube bloated.
Then it started coming, thick and warm and sticky, into her face. She let down as he came, releasing her grip on her own floodgates. The hard knot in her stomach burst and she began twitching out her own orgasm.
Roz sucked hard, gripping Brenda's thighs strongly in both hands as she felt the other woman coming.
Brenda sucked and swallowed, sucked and gulped as thick sperm lashed out into her throat. Like warm cream, it flooded down the soft-walled cavern of her engorged throat. At the same time she went totally limp as her own orgasm left her weak and enervated.
But he held her face in his hands and left his penis in her mouth until it was completely empty and beginning to grow limp between her lips. Slowly, it oozed out. For a moment, a thin trickle of white strung together her hps and his spent prick, like a rope of love. Then it broke and flung down to glisten on the naked upper surface of her right breast.
She sagged weakly back in the seat and sat there slumped, staring dully up at him.
Rising from between her legs, Roz twisted her head to kiss the exhausted cock that dangled from his open fly like a short length of rope. Then she collapsed weakly, with a groan, onto the seat beside Brenda.
Coolly, Paul stored his penis away in his pants. He had not taken his eyes off Brenda; he still did not, now, as he backed up and sat down on the seat across the compartment from her.
He looked totally collected and in control of himself. That didn't bother her. She felt very secure, just being around him.
"Well," Paul said, "we know one talent you have! What else do you do well?"
CHAPTER THREE
"I'm... a good listener," Brenda said at last, and Paul and Roz laughed as if she'd got off the best of the century. After a few seconds she, too, laughed, although with much less gusto.
"I am Paul Collins, and that is Roz. She's just as expert at clit-sucking as I said, isn't she?"
Brenda looked down. "Yes."
Roz patted her thigh. "And who're you?"
"Brenda... Cahill." Her downward look had discovered to her the fact that her breasts were still out, brashly thrusting out of the blouse he had unbuttoned. She raised her hands to the blouse... "It seems such a shame to tuck those away," he said. "They look so pretty, hanging out like that."
She hesitated, waiting, confused, and looking into her eyes he smiled slowly to let her know he knew: she would do whatever he said.
"But button them up," he said. "Is there a Mister Cahill?"
She told them; there had been, but now there wasn't. She was on her way back from Reno, but hadn't bothered to have her maiden name restored. She didn't like her maiden name.
"Where are you going now?" Paul Collins asked.
"Home. New York. City, I mean."
He nodded. "What's home?"
"An apartment." She felt weak again. An apartment. Empty and silent. An apartment that had been theirs.
"Children?"
She shook her head.
"That's good, then," he said. He was nodding. "No children, no complications. Was�is your husband making good money?"
She laughed.
Roz patted her leg.
Brenda looked at Paul. She'd been answering his questions, not as if she were going to get a prize, but as if she had no choice. Now she said, quietly and dully: "No. I'm twenty-four, if that's your next question. Married at eighteen. Divorced two days ago in Reno. That's all."
"Umm," he said nodding. "And you. Aside from being a good listener�skills, Brenda?"
"I'm intelligent, and I can type like a fiend... and... suck cock... "
"I noticed. Good. I can use you. I'm in the import business�not export, just im-. My own company... my father's, but he's dead. But don't get off in New York, Brenda. Come on up to Connecticut, with us."
She stared at him, glanced at Roz, back at Paul. She chewed her hp. Then: "OK."
"Good! Would you like to return the favor to Roz, Brenda?"
"Return... oh... I've never... I... no, no, I wouldn't... I... I need to... I have to go, right now!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Go?"
"She means she has to piss," Roz said, not quite giggling.
"Oh. I didn't know you were so squeamish, Brenda," Paul said. "Don't be. You're among friends, now."
"I have to piss," she said almost angrily, and she got up and left the compartment.
Stepping out into the corridor of the train, Brenda felt rather dizzy. Disconcerted, that was the word for it. She had a strangely unreal feeling, a surrealistic feeling, about what had just happened to her and about what she had just done... and was going to do.
She even felt a nervous little sensation of insecurity as she left the compartment and the new home, a wanted feeling that had arisen in her, a result of the take-charge strength and confidence of Paul Collins.
If only Steve were like that, she thought with a sigh.
But she mentally elbowed that thought aside. To hell with Steve! That was over] There wasn't any Steve, not any more.
Yes, that was it, Brenda told herself as she watched the grossly fat man moving toward her, lurching in the way all people do on fast-moving trains. Yes! She'd pretend that Steve was dead.
Steve's dead, she told herself. And I'm dive. Oh boy, am I ever alive!
The fat man took up two thirds of the width of the aisle. As they came close, Brenda edged way over against one wall, lined with closed compartment doors. His eyes were on her. She was aware of being naked under her skirt and blouse. Ugh, she thought, what a jowly, soft-looking saggy pig-face!
The train swung around a rather sharp curve.
Brenda lurched and her buttocks, upper back, and left elbow slammed loudly into a compartment door. Then her head did, whiplashing backward several inches to strike the barely-yielding door with a solid thud. It shot off a sudden blaze of fireworks before her eyes.
Already dazed, she next lost every ounce of air in her lungs: the fat man also staggered, fell against her.
She felt his huge belly against hers, trying to crush it through her and through her back. His chest, hugely bulbous and saggy like an old woman's tits, smashed into Brenda's jugs. They were definitely neither saggy nor old womanish. But he was heavy enough to intimidate their firm musculature.
She couldn't breathe. He was crushing her. She could feel his breath and hear its high-pitched wheeze. He wasn't moving back. She could see his eyes, up close now, very close. They seemed small and piggish, because they were surrounded by fat. She could feel his hands�he was not just blindly catching his balance!
The bastard was fondling her! He also had a gross thigh and one knee between hers. He shoved and her skirt drew tight as a girdle.
He was kissing her! She didn't like it, didn't want it. But she was dizzy, still reeling and blinking from the blow to the back of her head. And now she couldn't breathe. Her head spun and she quaked with shudders of disbelief. And fear�fear that she was going to smother to death, pressed so harshly by his weight that she couldn't fill her lungs with the air she so desperately needed.
She couldn't even whimper.
His livery, slobbery lips glued themselves to hers and he ran his tongue into her mouth and waggled it around.
"Uh�uh�" It was the only sound she could make.
Now the fat bastard was moving his huge thigh up and down between hers, against the firm bulge of her pussy. The light of lechery shone hotly in his eyes, as if he knew her weakness. And it was happening. Her legs slipped farther apart as her glands took over. He took full advantage of his greater access to her vulva.
But it didn't matter. Not really. Nothing mattered. She was going to die. She couldn't breathe. Her head spun and already her vision was affected: his ugly face seemed to be darkening.
I'm going to d� The door of the compartment behind her opened and too many things happened too fast.
She started falling.
A big strong hand caught her, from behind.
A big bare arm brushed her hair and her cheek, moving past her very rapidly from behind. There was a fist at the end of that rushing arm. It slammed into the fat masher's face with a chunk sound.
The fat man made a funny, ugly noise and then his weight was gone and Brenda was falling and her rescuer was grasping her from behind, falling back with her onto the floor of his compartment, and she heard the door slam but she didn't give a damn about that because she was breathing again, gratefully and desperately, but now there was too much blood and oxygen rushing up to her brain and she must have passed out for a few seconds or minutes.
When she awoke, they were still on the compartment floor. It was dim, almost dark in the cubicle. Apparently she and her rescuer were the only occupants. (How had he swung that? Was he rich? President of the railroad, maybe? A big Mafioso? It didn't matter. She would never know.) What she did know and what did matter was that both of them were on the floor of his darkened compartment and he was squeezing her breast with one hand and he had the longest finger of the other hand all the way up her cunt.
He was still behind her, mostly under her. She lay face up; so did he. And... she was hunching his hand and moaning. Her god-damned glands were in charge again!
"Uh... uh... you... saved me... oh, uh..
She tried to still the forward-and-back, up-and-down movements of her hips. She couldn't.
She had sucked cock, and she had been tongued and sucked, and it had all been just beautiful. But the hungry hole that sweltered between her thighs hadn't been filled and fulfilled. It wanted to be. It needed to be. Her cunt needed filling up. It grooved on his finger, what there was of it. But... it wanted... more.
The hot, throbbing depths of her long-denied cunt wanted cock] The hot finger up the craving, creaming hole sent out urgent messages of lust that squiggled all through her. She shivered and emitted tiny squeals of helpless wet arousal. Her clitoris was afire from the pressure of his hammering knuckle, as his finger dived in and out of her pussy, fluttering the raw inner hps.
"You... you can't... oh, oh, ah�please! Please... stop!"
"Not on your ass, sweetheart," a male voice told her positively. "Man Mountain McGoon is still out there in the passage�you want to leave here and go see how friendly he is?"
She trembled violently. "Oh�oh no! Please... please help me!"
"I did," he chuckled, still using both hands to massage tit and clit while he finger-fucked her with licentious zest. He was a man who knew what he was doing, and was enjoying it thoroughly.
He did it well, too. She was quivering and helplessly hunching. Jerking all over the floor and feeling a big hard pressure against her trembling ass. She knew it was his cock, and it was hugely erect. That made her tremble even more. It also made her proud. After all, it was she who'd got the thing up like this�and without any effort on her part whatever!
Of course he was also having one hell of an effect on her!
She squirmed and whimpered shamefully. This was awful, obscene, totally profligate and utterly abandoned. She knew only that her�her "lover" was big, and that he had a nice-enough baritone voice. She could not allow this to happen. A stranger! On a train! And she hadn't even seen his face.
But the fat man was still out there.
And... this was so good... she needed it so...
Her blouse was open and pulled well aside to bare her quivering jugs to his hand. Her skirt was up around her waist. Her pants were gone�oh yes, she remembered now. They were back in Paul's compartment, along with the bra he had ruined. (My compartment, she tried to correct herself, but it didn't take. It was Paul's, and both he and she knew it.) And she was... this man's. This stranger's.
He turned her, until she lay on her side, facing him. His hand remained at her crotch. His finger remained up her juicing, fiery cunt, running cocklike in and out. She squirmed and gasped and she heard herself panting.
Now he bent his head to her breasts. He licked, tantalizing her body with his wet, steaming tongue. He suckled impatiently at each rising nipple-bud, pulling and drawing strongly at the moist, distended tips, in a seeming attempt to bring squirts of milk into his mouth.
Moaning softly, she felt his teeth nibbling, sharply pinching the tender nubbins. Her breasts began to feel terribly full and swollen and heavy, enwrapped in a fiery state that reduced her little pleas until they were only a piteous whimpering.
His finger sluiced steadily in and out of the intense liquid heat of her pussy. His body, strong and hard and male and so-o-o-o warm, rubbed hers.
Tingles of sexual excitation erupted in her, spurred by the pain of his pinching teeth. Her breasts felt as if scorching fires smoldered in them. Her cunt had never known such urgent need.
She felt herself blushing deeply, both at her naked exposure and at her obvious response. She was panting and squirming, jerking harder and harder and with more and more urgency.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he said quietly, against one big mounded bulge of an intensely excited breast. It quivered against his face.
"No! No! You can't�I don't even know who you -it'll be RAPE!"
Yes, it would. He was already moving. For the first time she felt his naked cock. It seemed to burn her leg. It felt nicely huge...
"OK," he agreed, "then I'm going to rape you now!"
"Uh-" Easing himself up between her widespread thighs�yes, they were!�he thrust his club of hot raping flesh into her sapping gap.
His cock flipped open the finger-excited, sheltered cloister of her cunt and he rammed hard. She grunted and went all stiff. His thickened meat poled in and touched bottom in an instant.
She squealed. She couldn't help it. She spread her legs wide in total submission to him and his lust, drawing him into the ever-expanding, ever-moistening softness of her succulent twat. He began pounding away in her pussy, grunting and panting with each ramming lunge of his thick, heavy prong into her liquid slice.
"Jesus," he nearly whispered, his voice hoarse and lust-thickened, "what a fine fuck you are!"
Her heart really wasn't in it, but she stammered out, "Oh... oh... unnnnnhl God... oh god... what a�a monster you are... uh! How can you?"
"Easy, and with pleasure," he chuckled, riding that thick hard tool in and out between the hps of her wet cunt.
Suddenly he shoved a hand in between them to clutch her tit, hard. She felt his strong fingers digging in, felt the sharp individual pressures of four separate nails.
"Now... move," he told her. "Move, sweetheart, or I'll tear this overstuffed milkwagon off!"
Thank god he told me at last, she thought happily, and she started moving like crazy.
Her lithe hips began a voluptuous undulation. She moved in perfect unison with the movements inside her of his torrid length of hot tool. She strained her eyes and craned her neck, trying to see his face in the dimness. He had a lot of hair, that was about all she could be sure of.
And he had a lot of cock. She could feel it, deep in her cunt, pumping in and out of her wet sucking depths.
He was lowering his full weight onto her. His hands were sliding under her. His fingers were gripping the lovely rounded globeshapes of her wildly-gyrating ass. She grunted, grinding them into his big warm hands and meeting each stroke of his violently thrusting hips, shoving her pussy canal up the hot turgid rod of flesh he kept sinking into her.
His finger tickled at the delicate little cavern of her humid anus, then slid up into its sweat-oiled, tensing grip.
Her eyes went wide. She grunted helplessly and squirmed, in a strange admixture of outrage and discomfort and great pleasure. Both of them felt the rubbing of his own finger against his cock, separated only by the thin wall separating her deeply-pierced passages.
He forced them to rub each other, to strain her inner flesh, with passionate shoves of his heavy prick up into the cuntal niche. His finger twitched about in the tighter one just below.
Fucking strongly, he slid his finger slowly out of the hot little hole, feeling it tighten against his withdrawal in involuntary reflex. Then he plunged it back up her writhing asshole, and she jerked and cried out wildly.
She writhed her hips and pushed at his shoulders in an attempt to escape. But she didn't really want to escape...
He only leaned forward to kiss her, keeping finger and cock motionless in her until she sighed and accepted them. With another little sigh, she began moving on them. Then she was moaning and jerking, screwing herself hard. Sweat burst out over her body.
As she came, he popped his finger out of her squirmy rectal track�making her groan in agony-ecstasy�and shoved himself up from her. His cock popped with a sloppy wet sound from her contracting cunt. She whined.
"Get that thing back in me, you�" He turned her over, on her belly on the floor, and jerked her skirt roughly back up over her waist when it slithered down.
Then she experienced something she had never known before in her life.
In all the years of first ecstatic and then souring marriage, Steve had never done this. It hurt, and she would willingly have crawled right off the speeding train to get away from the initial hot probing. But he held her firmly.
His cunt-slick, violently swollen cock slipped swiftly up her virgin asshole.
She moaned in an agony of passion and pain under the swift total impalement of her anus with stiff prick.
Gripping the satiny softness of her upthrusting buttocks, he began driving his prong deeper into her and forcing wide the snug, rather prim rectal walls.
She lay there with her cheek against the floor, her aching tits crushed into its totally unyielding hardness, while he fucked her ass. His cock was tightly sheathed between the shining, swollen globes. His erect prong thundered in and out of the untrammeled little tunnel.
He fucked his big tool in and out of her steadily-loosening asshole, grinding her relentlessly down onto the floor of the train.
Helplessly, surprisingly, groaning, she came again. All the life seemed to rush out of her body, as if she were a man emptying out her pent-up sperm.
Then he did. His suddenly-expanding, suddenly hard-throbbing tool shot his come in hot streams up her enormously expanded ass until it came bubbling out around the thick shank of that tightly-sheathed prick. She felt every droplet and every jet, so tight was her virginal anus. Then he hung on and was still, soaking the slowly shriveling shaft in the hole between her quivering buttocks.
They lay there in exhaustion, panting and recovering from the intensity of their orgasms.
Then he was pulling her to her feet, tugging down her skirt and blouse, which her fingers began buttoning automatically, numbly. With a last pat on her semen-filled ass, he opened the door and shoved her out into the corridor of the rushing train.
She staggered, weakly and dazedly, to the rest-room. She sat there for a long time with come dribbling out of her open, contracting anus.
She had never even seen his face.
Now she realized that she didn't know the number of his compartment, either. All of the closed doors looked just alike when she stumbled numbly back to where Paul and Roz waited for her.
She never knew who had raped her on the train. Nor did she tell Paul and Roz about it.
When she entered their compartment, Paul didn't seem to notice the added dirt and rumpled aspect of her clothing. He shoved her down onto the seat and fucked her slowly for a long, long time, then pulled his slimy cock out of her running, climaxing cunt and pressed open her hps with its bulbous head. She accepted it, and she sucked it until come ran down her throat in a warm flood. She fell asleep almost instantly, feeling marvelously warm and secure and fulfilled and needed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Paul Collins' house up in Connecticut was big, fancy, and set well back on a long and broad lawn. The back yard ran straight out to what had once been a rock fence and was now a jumble of mossy stones, backed up by a deep woods. It was beautiful, even with the wind whipping through her clothes and the trees out back bare of leaves, save for the evergreens. Brenda appreciated it.
A hairy-headed young man with a drooping mustache came out to help them carry in the bags. He was just about Brenda's height, but younger, and very slim. His tight-fitting bell bot- toms showed him to be all but butt-less, but masculinely bulgy in front.
Inside, the big house was beautifully furnished. The walls were hung with Persian tapestries and the floors covered with Persian carpets. She realized that Paul Collins didn't just have a good income; he was rich. The house was almost opulent.
"Have you eaten?" the young man queried, without asking about Brenda at all. No one had introduced them.
"Yeah, we ate on the train," Paul said. He was hanging his coat in the closet of the large entry hall, and now he took Brenda's coat, brushing his hand across her breasts as he did so. She was without either bra or panties under her clothes. He hung the coat away and turned back. Roz was already moving swiftly into the big living room. Paul ushered Brenda in after her.
"Oh!" Brenda exclaimed delightedly. She hurried over to where flames leaped and crackled amid a pile of real logs in a real fireplace. It felt marvelous, and she stood happily before it, turning constantly to warm herself both fore and aft and wishing she could hike up her skirt to toast her chilly buttocks.
"Beautiful fire, Greg," Paul said. "We could all use a drink�wait, let's just have some brandy. It's a good warmer, and it doesn't need mixing."
"Could�could I have a little soda in mine, please," Brenda asked, smiling at the youngster named Greg. He must be the servant, man of all trades or whatever.
He brought a bottle of cognac while Roz fetched a tray of four big bell-shaped snifters. Paul poured them all a goodly dollop. He handed Brenda hers.
"Soda next time," he said. "Right now you'll appreciate the uncut cognac, believe me."
"Thank you," she said, wondering about the fact that Greg was obviously going to drink with them. He was quite handsome, really. About a third of his ears were visible beneath his shaggy brown hair; they were small ears, and lobeless. Had he been a woman he'd have had no place to wear earrings.
"Greg, this is Brenda. She's just been divorced in Reno, and rode home with us in the same compartment on the train."
"Oh yeah," Greg said in a quiet voice, "that damned airline pilots' strike. Radio says they'll probably get together tomorrow."
"Um. Anyhow, she'll be staying with us awhile. Brenda, this is my son, Greg."
Brenda couldn't help blurting it out: "Your son!"
Paul laughed, swirling his brandy around and around in the snifter. Brenda had already inhaled deeply, then sipped. It was very good, instant warmth in the very pit of her belly. Between brandy and fire, she was feeling very warm and toasty and snug.
"One of us was just complimented, Greg," Paul said, "I think!"
"I'm sorry," Brenda said. "I was just so surprised."
"Greg is twenty," Paul told her. "Brenda's a little older, Greg. Our experiences were similar, Brenda, you see. I was married when I was a tender eighteen, too." He smiled, lifting his glass to Greg. "Greg was born six months later... "
"... Seven pounds, nine ounces," Greg grinned, silently returning his father's toast.
"Right. So. I'm not quite thirty-nine. Greg's twenty. His mother was a stupid bitch I shed three years later." Paul reached over to wrap an arm around Roz, who smiled and cuddled, standing there before the big fireplace. "Roz is thirty, and a woman. Right now, she'll take you to the room where you'll be staying. Sorry, Greg�for the weekend at least, Brenda has your room."
Greg said nothing. Brenda demurred, but Paul gave her a look and told her again that she'd be staying in Greg's room. She looked down and shut up, then took refuge in the brandy snifter to cover her embarrassment. She hated to take the boy's room�but there was something in Paul. And something in her too that made it so difficult to argue or even disagree, particularly with a man, and particularly with Paul Collins.
The brandy wasn't quite all gone when Greg left the room, then returned with two cigarettes. They looked perfectly ordinary and even had filters. But they had been home-made with one of those little machines the Laredo people had been nice enough to provide for the convenience of grass-smokers.
Seating himself on a huge camel-leather ottoman, Greg lit up one of the long joints, inhaled deeply and noisily, and passed the cigarette to Roz. His stepmother, Brenda reminded herself. She watched Roz inhale just as Greg did. A slow smile spread over her pretty face and she sank slowly down to sit on the carpet beside the ottoman. She handed the cigarette to Brenda.
Brenda filled her lungs with pot and handed the joint to Paul.
Drawing on it, he sort of folded up to sit on the rug next to Roz. He patted the space between himself and his son and his hand closed on Brenda's ankle.
"Sit down, Brenda. Join us. No, wait�would you mind flipping that lightswitch and turning the one next to it?"
The switch she fingered down doused the chandelier; the little knob she turned brought up pale, reddish light from a half-dozen places around the large living room. It was beautiful and she smiled as she returned to sit where Paul had indicated. She was just in time for her second hit.
She was already feeling it, and she realized that this was damned good pot, going straight to her head and muscles. Already that ennui-like sensation of deep relaxation was stealing over her, so-o sublimely lovely.
The third hit began the definite process inside her; an awareness of each and every muscle of her body, the discovery of several new ones, and their beginning total relaxation. She began staring into the fire, seeing a multitude of red and orange and yellow faces there that definitely had not been present before.
She watched them, commenting delightedly to herself on the advent of a new shape from time to time.
Paul rose, drew up another ottoman, and now both she and Roz sat between and beneath both men. Paul was leaning slightly forward, lightly toying with the mounds of soft flesh bulging out the front of Brenda's pale blue blouse. That was lovely. Everything was lovely. The fire and the company were lovely. The pot and the brandy were lovely. Paul's hand was just too good. His fingers traced over the swiftly-firming crests on the soft, white contours of her tits, inside the blouse, and she was suddenly aware that the ma- terial was in the way; she wasn't feeling all she could, in her grass-heightened sensation-awareness.
She was just going to open her blouse when Paul did so. She was grateful. Now his hands were on her bare tits and she fancied she could feel every little whorl of his fingerprints. The thick points of her breasts mushroomed into long, rosy-red teats. She sighed and pulled her shoulders in a bit, to swing her bare tits toward him.
Now Roz was leaning across Paul, and Brenda noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned, too, and she was dragging her own bare jugs over Paul's crotch. But her hand was at Brenda's, sliding up her thigh and forcing the skirt to tuck up with it.
Brenda leaned up and down and up, first onto her right buttock and then on to her left, to enable the other woman to get her skirt as high as she wanted.
Roz's hand slid, fluttering a little, over the tight-lipped slit of Brenda's lower belly. Brenda sighed. Paul was tugging teasingly at her nipples, and that was nice. She was watching a prancing, prissy racehorse dance about in the flames, greenish-yellow and orange and white, and that was nice too.
Roz pressed a finger into the other woman's cleft and found the firm bud of her sensuality. A new sensation of pure pleasure flooded Brenda, not interfering at all with her total grass-induced relaxation. The controversial weed had also induced a fantastically heightened sensory awareness.
Everything she felt seemed to be increased by a factor of about ten. She played around with that thought while Roz played around with her pussy and her clit and Paul massaged her tits.
As Roz's finger began to circle, the pink slice in the oval purse of Brenda's cunt welled up as if crying in delight. She sighed, again and again, and began to feel weaker and weaker, tremblier and tremblier, and sexier and sexier.
Her supporting hand slipped and she fell limply back onto the rug.
She lay there, watching while Paul rose and Roz opened his pants and took them down. Roz caressed his cock first with her hands and then her hps. Brenda watched his hands seize the blonde's head and crush his fat hard-on past her hps and well into her mouth.
Roz accepted that facial fucking, and he peeled off his shirt. He stood naked.
Greg sat there on the ottoman and watched. Brenda wondered if she shouldn't feel embarrassed. She knew her legs were apart and she was doing a fine job of displaying both her damp pussy and her naked breasts. She felt a little guilty, too. Poor Greg was being left out...
Paul pulled himself out of the blonde's mouth and turned to stand high over the supine Brenda.
She stared up at him. No, not at him; her eyes were drawn by his cock, riveted to the thick, glistening club of flesh that saluted her with its hel-met-like head of beautiful, silky-looking, deep pink.
She licked her lips, completely unconsciously, as though she couldn't wait to taste it. To lick and suck and nibble at the hairy balls which lay in the nest of rich black fleece that nestled at the apex of his strong thighs.
Again her tongue rimmed her lips, sexily.
She couldn't help what her hips did: they squirmed suggestively, invitingly. She had no control over them. She had no control over anything.
Paul came down to his knees between her wideflung thighs. His thick cock rose rigidly from his crotch and pulsed intimately against her. She squirmed, rubbing her flesh with it, rubbing it with her flesh. Sighing, she shivered and squirmed her pelvis to meet that beautiful dick. He moved forward, slowly, watching her face.
She reached down between them to grasp his cock and guide it into her as he continued to come forward over her. The rim of her vaginal mouth grasped him tightly as he slid it tantalizingly in between her silky white thighs.
Then, in a swift flexing surge, they came togeth- er in convulsive union on the floor. In a moment, lie had filled her vagina with hot, pulsing cock.
"Ahaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh," she signed, long and low and throaty. It felt so, so good, all that torrid powerful hard male flesh up inside her!
She heard the crackling and snapping of the fire and she seemed to be able to feel every single hair of Paul's crotch, pressing firmly against hers. She wondered about Roz and Greg. But that wasn't her concern. She was going to be slowly, gloriously, grass-highly fucked, and she certainly hadn't the time or inclination to give a damn�or fuck-about anyone else.
She wiggled, feeling the rug beneath her bare ass as she enjoyed the ramming pronging fullness inside her and sought to suck in still more of it.
Her body was a smooth, hot sheath around his and he pummeled faster and faster into her cunt. Then he slowed up again, clutching her shoulders and sliding slowly and smoothly in and out, in and out. She writhed helplessly in complete pleasure, grinding her hips, wriggling and arching herself up to the strong firm masculinity that darted in and out of her body.
She felt limp with desire and the effects of her high. Yet her body and brain responded, with a constant surge of hot thrills, to the thought and feel of another body, inside hers. She chirped, gasping through helplessly parted lips while he plied his long spike of rugged flesh in and out of the burning vault of her pussy.
His vigorous in-thrusts tried to nail her to the soft, furry carpet caressing her naked buttocks. Her belly was filled with heated tingles every time he ran his jabbing cock roughly in and out of her pulsing cuntal depths.
He was pulling long and thrusting hard and deep now, soaking the full length of his joint in the warm wet sheath of her loins. She met the penetrating drives with swivel-hipped action that raised her steadily toward an uncontrollable peak of furious excitement She was almost there, just starting to achieve liftoff, when he began sighing and jerking in a strange, slow sort of orgasm that lasted and lasted and lasted. Semen jerked into her squirming, heated pussy depths in long, even spurts. He wasn't even winded as he sank down upon her and she clasped him to her. She wondered how long they had lain here like this. It seemed like seconds. But it also seemed like hours.
She knew that Greg had got up and gone over to poke the fire up. He had added another log. Now he was lighting the other joint. She didn't think she wanted any of it.
But she sucked it in, when he came over and crouched beside her and held the tip of the cigarette between her hps.
She was very thirsty. Her cunt was full, but it remained thirsty, too. Semen didn't assuage its thirst; only the hot flow of her own juices could, in her final contractions.
Paul rose from her, kissing each of her softening nipples in turn, and took the joint from his son.
"Roz," Paul said quietly. "Here's some semen that needs recycling."
Brenda grunted and jerked slightly when Roz came over to recycle the semen Paul had pumped forth. Placing her mouth down over Brenda's come-seeping cleft, the other woman sucked hard. Her tongue ran in and out. Brenda groaned and moaned. Her belly tightened up and her thighs quivered with tension.
Roz wasn't just sucking her husband's come out of the well of the other girl's pussy. She was also tickling her clitoris sweetly and gently with her flickery tongue.
Brenda seemed to go all drum tight. Then she flew apart into utter disjointed relaxation as Boz's clever tongue took her up and up to the pulsing, prickly pinnacle of voluptuousness.
While Brenda lay there quivering and sighing with her orgasm, Paul dragged the blonde backward from between her thighs. Brenda heard a thump as Roz was stretched out on her back. Now it was her turn to groan and sigh and jerk her legs. Paul was applying his mouth to her untouched cunt.
"Hell of a way to treat a sweet innocent boy," Greg said, "not to mention a horny one! Doing all this right in front of me!"
Brenda felt her arms rising in supplication to him, heard her voice saying, "Come here, baby."
"Thought you'd never ask," Greg said, and came crawling in between her open thighs. She hadn't noticed when he took off his pants. She hadn't noticed his penis. It was no thicker than his father's, perhaps not as thick. But it was longer, so that the two men provided different sorts of sensation inside the hot hollows where they buried their prongs.
Her legs thrashed and jerked in paroxysmal fury at the feel of the in-gliding shaft. The powerful hot chunk of pulsing meat formed a strong male goad to her passions. It probed the furrow of her hps and slid into her body with slippery ease. In an instant he was encompassed in the deepest hollow of her belly. She groaned, feeling the tip of his prick pressing at her cervix.
She sighed and squirmed beneath him in an unashamed, unbridled enthusiasm. The soft walls of her capacious cunt strained to encompass him, every inch of his long, hot pole of lust. The tip of the swollen head kept thumping her cervix. She wished she had control of a muscle there, to open herself up and let his long prick slide up her cervical canal. She had a mental vision of that, and she shivered.
He began jerking and lunging, whanging in and out of her, roughly. His pelvis slapped hers, hard and loudly. Her thighs were opening and closing hotly as his prick plowed a deep furrow into her pussy.
She was quivering with renewed passion, her vaginal depths flowing and the hps dripping and coating his cock. Her armpits streamed. Exquisite sensations of pleasure pervaded her belly. She met his hard jolting thrusts between the warm columns of her thighs with upward surges, with hunches and a hollowing of her back.
Her movements ground her asscheeks mercilessly into the soft Persian carpet and the unyielding floor beneath. That felt good, too. Everything felt good. She was soaring, high on sex and grass.
He thrust hard and deep, far into her twitching cunt, plunging in his turgid and torrid meat with all his strength. He jerked his hips to swing his entrenched tool and to dilate and distend the hot channel of her belly.
"Well, we've solved the problem of who sleeps where, anyhow," Paul Collins said, looking up from Roz's crotch with a wet face. He smiled.
Hardly interrupting his steady fucking, his son took the joint from his outstretched hand and pulled deeply at it. Then he set it between the lips of the sighing girl jerking beneath him. She sucked it up. He handed the joint back, without looking, and felt Roz's fingers take it from his.
He drove his body on and on, whipping it, driving it into her, seeking the depths of her thrashing form with crashing lunges that brought moans and ecstatic cries from her hps. She squeezed his arms, pinched his tight little nipples, pulled at his hips and pounding asscheeks.
Then it happened. Seething seminal fluid entered her voraciously sucking cunt in a gushing tide. He ground down on her, groaning and making her groan, pumping his steaming cum into her guts.
Seconds later, even with his drained body lying atop her, she was asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
What time it was when Brenda awoke was the least of her worries.
She didn't even know where she was.
She lay there blinking, feeling all nice and warm �and thirsty. She remembered. Grass. It always made her thirsty, but she hadn't done anything about it, last night. It had done plenty of things to her though, she realized, and she sighed at her own helplessness and utter inability not to go along with masculine desires. Both of them fucked me, she thought. No�I fucked with both of them! And�Roz lapped up Paul's cum, and touched me off while she was at it.
She smiled warmly and securely up at the strange ceiling. A weird, multi-colored mobile hung from its center. She recognized two huge yellow breasts, with red nipples suspended on separate cords in their centers. Below them dangled a long, scarlet oval. An even longer, knob-tipped cylinder of dull purple was slung separately, and it kept passing in and out of the oval.
She had never seen such a sexy mobile before, and she wondered idly, without really caring, where she was.
I'm getting to be quite a whore, she thought. And she smiled.
Then she realized that a considerable amount of the lovely secure warmth she felt emanated from her bed partner. Bed partner! How long it had been since she had slept other than alone! Sighing, she pressed against the other body. She turned her head toward it She saw the back of a head, shaggily covered with a lot of brown hair. She could see little glints of red in the sunlight coming in the window on her side of the bed.
Greg, she thought. Greg Collins. Last night I screwed with father and son and this morning I wake up with the son!
Insane things were happening to her. The cou- pie on the train. Watching them. Then sucking him off, a total stranger. Then being sucked off by his woman. Then going out to the restroom�good lord, I was raped! Actually raped! And back I went to them, Paul and Roz, without a trace of all that sperm Mister Whoever pumped up my ass! And then Paul raped me!
Of course she had been willing�but it had been rape, a very forceful taking of her body and using it, with Roz's open cunt hovering over her face.
She mused. So I came home with them. Whatever he says, God, how I need directions and the security they bring!
She remembered the lovely fire... the lovely brandy... the sweet smell and the taste of grass... Paul's hands on her tits and Roz's on her cunt, then Paul's body on hers, pumping and pumping until he reached that strange unhurried orgasm� the fruits of which Roz licked and sucked out of her.
Now she remembered: Greg hadn't raped her too, she had pulled him down onto her and into her.
She sighed. How easy it all was! How easily and comfortably she could be who and what she was with these casual people and Paul's obvious control of them all!
Control me, she thought. Just don't stop. Keep me!
The body beside her was stirring. He lay on his side, turned from her. As he moved, his naked butt rubbed her thigh. He was still. Then his hand came back, exploring. She trembled as strange fingers ran over her thigh and the little crease between it and her belly, touched the fine fur running up from her crotch, traced out the smoothness of her slightly mounded belly.
Then he turned over and all in one movement, drew the sheet up over them, faces and all. Its presence wasn't enough to cut out all the light, but she closed her eyes and pretended that they were encapsulated in a vacuum somewhere, away from the world, away from everyone. Just the two of them. Lovers.
He kissed her for many minutes, tracing out her hps with his tongue, licking them and her chin, licking inside her mouth, playing with her tongue, with his, and stabbing it deep into her mouth. Their hands moved over each other, exploring unfamiliar bodies. Their thighs moved gently against each other.
His left hand was involved with her right breast. First he savored the outer softness and inner firmness of it with his fingertips, then crushed it in his strong hand. She groaned and tightened her mouth about his tongue, sucking strongly. Her nails raked gently over his hip.
Sliding down, away from her mouth, he let his tongue run down and down until it reached the bulges of her tits.
She groaned aloud at the feel of his mouth, warm and avid, gliding wetly, warmly over her turgid tits. He teased her, his teeth nibbling on the swaying flesh of both springy, petal-soft mounds. Her sighs and whimpering little groans became more urgent.
A hot bar of iron had manifested itself in the region of his crotch and was throbbing against her thigh. It felt enormous, and burning hot. And good.
His attentions brought the hot buds of her nipples up and out into his mouth in full response. Little twinges of excitement stabbed through her squirming body.
He nibbled and sucked until his hands were full of writhing, gasping woman in heat. Her hands clutched at him. She circled his full erection with all five fingers. She sighed and gasped loudly.
He was chewing, hurting the spongy hard-ons of her nipples, and she moaned in helpless enjoyment of the harsh treatment the overripe fruits were receiving.
She felt his hand at her pussy, and she hunched until his fingers slithered over the soft folds of her loins and one sank into the wet trough between.
She hunched herself lecherously to that pussy-piercing finger, fucking herself on it.
She could smell her cunt, with the sheet over their heads entrapping their own breaths and aromas and refusing to admit cooler, fresher air. She could smell crotch, and cock, and the faint aroma of last night's semen. There was a tangy little odor of sweat, too, and she liked it.
She tugged at his cock. "Please�I want this."
He gnawed her nipple. "Jack it off?"
"Oh God no! I want it in me!"
"You want it in you, you'll have to put it there."
"What?"
He chuckled, gripping her firmly with two fingers inside her cunt and the others pressing the spongy, hair-covered skin outside. "Fuck me," he said. Then he rolled over, away from her, and lay on his back. He turned his head sideways to look at her.
"You mean�me on top?"
"Sure," he said, stroking her thigh. "Ride 'em cowgirl!"
She smiled. Steve had never liked that, her on top. It must have challenged his perhaps shaky masculinity, something psychological about her up there looking down at him, fucking him.
She liked it, though. She liked it fine. She scrambled to get into position.
He watched her slide one firm-fleshed leg across his flat, slightly muscular belly, and he felt the moist mouth of her cunt trail across his skin.
Then she was rising above him, astride him. Her white, hard-looking titties, tipped with hot pink buttons, swayed from her chest and jiggled with her movements to put herself in place above his crotch.
She lowered her sinuous, limber body, smiling down at him, and he sucked up a swift nervous breath when he felt the furry softness of her lower lips kiss his cock. Then it was enveloped between those moist labia. Her smile broadened into a grin.
She continued lowering herself. Her luscious cunt rode down his prickshaft until their pubic hair twined together. The fleshy white balls of her ass came down onto his thighs and pressed, spreading out over his hairy upper legs.
Then she began fucking herself on his upstanding cock.
She rode it hard arid fast, jacking herself up and down with tensing calf muscles that bulged into tight hard oval pads. Her strong, eager movements slammed their bodies wetly and noisily together. She fucked him; she rode him.
He grinned up at her, a beautiful, sensuously writhing creature of lust and jumping jouncing tits and down-driving lunges. She twisted and turned on the driving hardness of him. The mus- cles inside her steaming pussy pressured and sucked.
His thick staff felt enveloped in a furnace of boiling oil.
Groaning, he reached up to joggle and juggle her tits a bit. Then he squeezed them together, pushing hard to squash the sexy pears. He watched the flesh grow whiter and bulge vertically as he smashed them one against the other. In his hands they became tight-clutched ovals, rather than globes.
She threw back her head with a cry. Her hand rushed down to find her clitoris and she rubbed it, grunting from deep in her quaking belly.
He used his buttocks and legs to surge upward with a superb display of strength. His prick plowed deeper and deeper into the cavernous hole of her crotch. All the while, her own hand jerked and rubbed and rolled to send her to an orgasm.
It came, and she shuddered violently.
Her keening scream became a plaintive moan as she sagged in orgasmic jolts. Sweat rushed down onto him from her body. Her pussy's hot climactic juices bathed his cock. She sagged weakly. Perspiration dripped off her pretty tit-tips, making them look as if they were milk-filled and leaking. The droplets splattered coolly onto his belly.
Then he tipped her sidewise to fuck her hard in search of his own orgasm.
He pounded himself with an almost maniacal lust into the slushy cavern of pleasure and ground the head of his lengthy cock against her cervix until they both winced at the painful pressure. Her nipples, long and pink and turgid with passion, caressed his ramming chest.
Her legs jerked, then swung up over the backs of his to press, in an effort to fill herself with as much long hard meat as both their strengths could force up her sodden cuntal recess.
Then he groaned and stiffened. His balls went drum-tight.
With one last tremendous thrust between the moist, pink flanges of her cunt, he erupted within her. His jerking cock flooded a torrent of viscously wet heat into her warm, dark depths.
They lay there panting. The smell of sweat and hot semen wafted up to fill the room's air with a warm, humid, carnal scent. Her hands slid gently, fondly over his sweatslick body.
Then she heard the strange cracking sounds. She wiggled beneath her morning lover.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"That... sort of smacking noise."
"Oh. Dad's probably punishing Roz for something," he said carelessly.
"What? You mean�whipping her?"
He shrugged against her. His deflated prick was crawling slimily out of her sperm-filled cunt. "She likes it. Listen, when was the last time a guy told you that if you sucked and tongued his nipples you'd have him up again in less than five minutes?"
"Never."
"I just told you."
She wiggled. He slid from her. She sucked and tongued his tiny nipples, and they erected to become, not large, but at least less tiny. So did his cock. It became large, definitely.
He turned her over and began fucking her from behind, running his long cock in and out of her pussy while his hands pressed down on her asscheeks, crushing her down against the bed.
They were interrupted by the knocking on the door. Brenda turned her head.
"Fucking's the thing," Greg said, easing himself slowly out of her and stroking her naked butt. "Anybody can come. It'll keep." He twisted around, still kneeling astride the backs of her thighs. "Yeah."
Paul's voice: "Brenda... would you mind fixing us some breakfast? Roz is indisposed this morning, and I'm damn near helpless in a kitchen."
"Oh sure," she called back, and Greg moved to allow her to turn over. For a few moments she lay there on her back, naked, her pussy still oozing her own juices and those of his previous come. Then she got off the bed and started tracking down her clothes.
A few minutes later she and Greg were down in the kitchen, he telling her where things were and laying them out for her, while she cracked eggs and used the ham she found to whomp up omelets. Greg made the coffee, stronger, she noticed, than she usually did. She nodded. She'd remember that. Five scoops.
She was getting the last of the savory meal onto the table when Paul astonished her by bringing Roz in.
The blonde was bare-titted, her freely wobbling jugs heaving up and down and jumping loosely about as she walked�carefully.
Beneath those handsome knockers, she wore a black corset, and it was tight, making her flesh bulge whitely out beneath it. It ended just at her navel, and a strap was buckled there, at the little point, to run down her belly.
It was one of several straps that helped to hold in place the fat-looking, jet-black dildo securely wedged in her cunt. The lips bulged meatily, hair-ily out around it, looking tight and strainedly stretched. Brenda couldn't help staring. Roz didn't look exactly comfortable, but she didn't appear disconsolate or in pain, either.
"Turn around, darling," Paul said quietly, "and show Brenda your pretty ass."
Brenda remembered to ease the plate she held onto the table. That action was well-timed; had she waited a moment longer, until Roz turned, she'd have dropped it for sure. Roz had an almost boyish ass, the cheeks were very round bowls that poked impudently out and were finely divided by a tight-looking line. But the cheeks weren't white, like her crotch and tits.
The whipping Brenda had heard taking place had etched the blonde's sexy bottom with red weals that ridged the tight-swollen flesh like the tunnelings of some subcutaneous grubworm.
Brenda could count the lashes by the marks they had left. Each had left a dark stripe, darker at the end where the tail of the whip had snapped wickedly down.
"What... why... " Brenda gasped out, sinking down into one of the tall-backed dining room chairs.
"Tell her, Roz," Paul said easily, seating himself.
"I�I was naughty."
"And�" he prompted.
She sighed. Her bare tits rose and shuddered down.
"And... I like it." She bent to kiss Paul, then she too lowered herself into a chair. Brenda saw her wince.
They ate, almost in silence, except for the men's enthusiastic compliments on Brenda's culinary abilities.
Roz was silent, and a little squirmy...
CHAPTER SIX
Brenda was still shaken and silent after breakfast when Paul announced that he and Greg had to go down to New York.
She turned around. "I�I'd better go," she said softly.
Paul came quickly to her and patted her shoulder, then squeezed it. His hand slid familiarly down over one unbrassiered breast. The blouse seemed in love with the swollen-looking bulges of those distended globes, hugging them tightly.
"Don't be silly, Brenda," Paul said. "Roz needs you. Someone has to untie her at... " He paused to check his watch. "... at four o'clock this afternoon."
"Untie?"
"Yes, untie. Oh, Roz. I think there's something else Brenda should know about. This morning, you know. How you feel about having your ass whipped."
"Oh." Roz nodded.
She was standing, rather awkwardly, with the big dildo up her snatch forcing her to hold her legs well apart. Brenda was sure the blonde felt constantly stretched by the huge goad stuck up into the delicate flesh of her pussy. Roz met her questioning gaze, then looked down.
In a very tiny voice she said, "I... came. Three times. While he was... "
"Beating her ass," Paul supplied.
"Beating my ass," Roz agreed.
Brenda then watched while Roz was bound.
First she had to put her arms behind her and press them tightly together, just as closely as possible. She groaned and squirmed and arched her shoulders while he secured them. Her inward-arched back threw her massive jugs into bold relief, rising and falling turbulently with each breath she drew.
It took several minutes for him to force and drag and push and stretch the slim, single glove up over her arms. Brenda watched as it pressed the woman's arms, then even her elbows closely together behind her back. Roz's breasts jutted even more, becoming magnificent in their out-thrusting glory.
The single glove was black, but not leather. It was rubber. It looked suspiciously like the sleeve of an old rubber raincoat, although it had been cut very smoothly. The pale flesh of Roz's arms contrasted brilliantly, bulging out above the tight black sheath when he at last considered it to be as high on her straining arms as he wanted it.
There was a brass-grommeted eyehole on either side of the glove, right at the top. Through these holes Paul passed two strips of black leather. These he ran up over her shoulders and drew down, hard, to force them through her tight-pressed armpits. Those efforts made her gasp and grunt. He tied the cords' ends together across the black rubber glove.
Brenda saw that the constricting single glove would be held securely in place. Nor would Roz try to slip it down. The cutting of those thin leather straps into her shoulders would be agony, if she did!
Paul kissed her, quite tenderly, and Brenda could see that the restrained blonde was definitely and enthusiastically returning his slow, tonguing kiss.
Paul and Greg, wearing suits and ties and top- coats, left to drive down to Manhattan. Or perhaps to the local station to catch a train; Brenda didn't know. With Roz walking carefully, slowly, heavily, the two women moved into the living room.
"Does Paul have an office in the city, Roz?"
"Uh-huh. Import business. His father founded it. He's dead, and it's Paul's company now. Don't be uncomfortable or nervous, honey. I'm all right. This is very good for my posture, and it does make Paul so happy. And... well, we weren't lying about my getting my rocks off this morning. While he whipped me, I mean. I came, all right." She sighed and her eyes took on a reminiscent expression. "Three times."
"I heard the sounds, and counted nine lashes," Brenda said softly, looking down. She didn't know whether to feel disgusted, angry, embarrassed, or femininely sympathetic. Certainly she wasn't capable of mentally and outwardly handling this situation as easily as the others. Obviously Paul, Greg, and Roz were used to these games, and obviously Roz grooved on them.
"Yes. Nine lashes. But I meant I came three times. Um�would you help me sit down, please? Here on the couch. Ohhh... thank you. Now you sit over there, huh? Facing me�yes, that's good." Sitting stiffly erect, Roz sighed.
Brenda sat there uncomfortably, trying not to stare at the bound and dildoed blonde. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly one o'clock. Roz had to wear that awful single glove for over three more hours! How erect and stiff she looked!� and how magnificent her posture and the silk-wrapped footballs of her big tits!
"Tell me about yourself, Brenda."
Brenda shook her head and leaned back in the wingback chair.
"There's... really not much to tell. I was born in Queens. I have a sister, she's married and lives in Denver. They have four kids. He's in the Air Force. She's president of the PTA this year. Dad was a steamfitter. Mother was�" She shrugged. "You know. I don't like the way it sounds: a housewife."
Roz nodded "Yes," she said very quietly. "It's very nice being... different!"
"I went to school and learned how to type and take shorthand and I got a part-time job. I got married at eighteen. Steve was nineteen. We didn't have any children. Oh�we were both virgins." She smiled nervously, then sighed and glanced away, at the window. The sun had given way to a menacing gray sky. "We... didn't have much of anything else, either. He was ready for the divorce too, and gave me the money to go to Reno. There isn't any settlement. No alimony or anything like that, I mean. I didn't want any. None of his money."
"You're braver and more independent than I thought."
"Maybe. I'm... I admit to being scared."
"Of being here?" Roz was gazing at her with her head on one side.
Brenda wished the blonde didn't have to sit there with her legs apart like that. She'd just as soon not have to see the end of that big dildo, or think about it being rammed up inside Roz's stretched cunt, holding her open and yet stuffing her full.
"Oh no. No. I'm... well, nervous is a better word. About the future, you know. Alone. Working." She made a little gesture with both hands.
"Um-hmm. But you've got a job, now."
"Are you scared of Paul?"
"I... don't know. I�he's... oh damn Roz, I have to ask. Doesn't that�that thing up inside you... hurt?"
Roz blinked. "Don't you like things up inside you?"
Brenda had to laugh, although nervously. "Sure, cocks! But that's hardly the same thing!"
"What do you wear when you're menstruating?"
"I see your point. All right, a tampon. But it's still not the same thing."
"It's bothersome," Roz admitted, looking down at the end of the protruding dildo. "It hurts if I move the wrong way. But no, it doesn't hurt, normally. It's hard rubber, so there's a little give, almost like flesh�you know how hard an erection feels up in you, but it has give, too. And this is just a little bigger than Paul's peter."
"How�deep is it?"
Roz squirmed a little. "I felt the tip of it against my cervix, just then. About seven inches. All seven inches, understand; remember that if a man should have a seven-inch tool, which is bigger than average, you'd never get that much up inside you. Right now, though, I've got a full seven inches up my quiff."
She glanced around. "I'm sorry to be this way, but would you mind coming over here and holding a cigarette for me? Maybe we can share one or two. There are some in the box." She nodded at an Indian-looking box, wooden, on the long cocktail table before the couch she sat on�gingerly.
"You'll be asking about how thick it is, next," Roz said as Brenda got up and went over to fish a cigarette out of the box and light it; a very plain and rather phallic lighter of wood and brass stood beside the cigarette box. She lit the cigarette, inhaled, tucked it between the other woman's hps.
She waited while Roz inhaled, breathed out smoke, and inhaled again, deeply. She nodded and Brenda took the cigarette from her lips.
Roz blew a long plume of smoke toward the ceiling, then lowered her rather wide eyes again to Brenda's. "It's also just a little thicker than Paul's dong. Just a little."
"But... won't it... isn't it likely to stretch you? I mean you'll certainly be stretched by tonight!"
Roz chuckled. "Men!"
After several seconds, Brenda returned the smile. Men! She understood. Ever seeking tighter holes and more friction for their ever-needy tools, they would persist, nevertheless, in seeing how many fingers they could get into a woman�or fill her pussy with a dildo that was bigger than an erected penis.
Roz's voice was casual: "You ever been raped, Brenda?"
Brenda blinked. Did Roz know about the man on the train? How could she? Brenda lied.
"No." That faceless man on the train was the only time she'd ever been raped, anyhow. And it wasn't exactly her idea of rape, anyhow. It wasn't as if she'd been attacked and overpowered and screwed totally against her will! She wondered if there were other kinds of rape.
Then, wondering, frowning, she said, "Roz? Why do you ask. Have you?"
Roz chuckled throatily again. "Yes!"
"When?" The girl with red hair sat closer, watching the blonde intensely, barely remembering to continue to share the cigarette.
Roz shrugged. An expression of pain instantly crossed her face.
"Ouch! Have to remember not to shrug�these leather straps are the bad part. Someday I'm going to talk him into using broader straps, belts maybe." She sighed and shifted her position, with great care and no hurry. "Oh, a few years ago. It was Paul."
"It was P�" Brenda broke off, frowning. Then, "You mean�you mean it was Paul who raped you?"
Smiling, Roz nodded. "Yes. That's how we met."
"You can't be serious!"
"But I am! I love talking about it, it'll probably get me so juicy this dildo will feel like a pencil up inside me! Want to hear?"
Brenda shook her head, blinking. "Boy, I don't know. Paul raped you. That's how you met him."
"Yes. Oh come on," Roz giggled. "Let me tell you about it! You'll see�it'll turn you on, tool" And she started telling Brenda the story.
It wasn't exactly how Roz met Paul Collins. She had met him in the cab. It was raining, she said, and Brenda nodded. She knew about Manhattan, and cabs, and rain. The streets were customarily filled and crowded, flooded with cruising taxicabs, all yellow. All a person had to do was approach the curb. Sometimes the drivers even eased over to the curb to ask a walker if he or she wanted a cab. But that was when the weather was fair. When the streets are flooded with water�and with the same cabs, they aren't cruising. Ten, a dozen, a score, twoscore taxis go by, and they all have passengers. When the weather is fair, few people want taxicabs; New Yorkers walk or take the train. When it rains, everyone wants cabs�and it always seems that everybody else has one.
It was raining, and Roz Morton decided to splurge and take a cab home. It would cost her several days' lunch money, but she wanted to do it anyway. Moods strike that way, sometimes. She slid in, gave the driver her address�and the door opened on the other side. A man looked in. A big man, with a good-looking, mustached face. He was well-dressed, expensively dressed, Roz could see that. Water was streaming off his expensive hat.
"Sorry, Jack, taken," the driver said, racing his engine.
But the stranger was looking straight into Roz Morton's eyes.
"Help," he said. "Please share your cab with me. I'm drowning out here." He gave her a very small smile.
She couldn't turn him down. She could have if he had looked other than the way he did: a well-off businessman, probably a vice president or an account executive. She worked at an ad agency, and she knew the look of success. This man wore it, and he wore it quietly, which she liked.
She nodded and he got in and told the driver to take her home first. Then he sat back and looked at Roz, pulling off his wet hat with one hand to let it drip on the floor.
"And don't you dare make a move for your purse," he told her. "I got the cab here, and I pay it from here."
She laughed. "You come on like you're used to being obeyed. Where do you live?"
"Connecticut."
"Connecti�you're going to take a cab to Connecticut?"
He chuckled. "No no. I doubt he'd take me, not tonight. I'm going to stay in town tonight. We'll drop you off and he'll take me to a hotel. And I'll think kind thoughts about you, Samaritan Lady. And I'll never tell your husband you share your cab with strange men!"
She laughed. "I'm not married," she said, because a woman naturally let that be known to an attractive man. "But what's your wife going to say, up in Connecticut?"
He shook his head. "Up in Connecticut, I have a housekeeper and a teenaged son. No wife. Not for�a long time."
"Oh," Roz said, not certain how to respond to that. She wondered how one went about speeding up the getting acquainted process. It always worked for Doris Day, in those dummy Keep-Away movie parts she played. A very attractive and obviously well-off man, slightly older man, had just got into a cab with her and�what could she do about it?
She became aware that he was staring at her. She blinked.
He shook his head, smiling. "I'm trying to decide how people go about this. I've just met an attractive single woman in a taxicab, and I'm in town alone, and in a minute or two you'll be gone. And I'll be eating alone. There's only one way," he said, shrugging. He looked steadily into her eyes. "Have dinner with me."
She stared back into his eyes, feeling some sort of magnetism in their dark depths, almost a hypnotism. An emphatically strong will lay behind his eyes.
"I�I... you know, there are a dozen reasons why a woman should say no."
"Probably twenty."
She laughed. "All right."
"Good. My name's Paul."
"I'm Roz, Paul. Hi. But, I've still got to go to my apartment. A little vanity, you know."
He nodded. The cab pulled up in front of her building, Paul said he'd wait, the driver frowned into the rearview mirror, and Roz started to get out. She turned back.
"Oh, this is silly! Come on up, Paul! There's no use paying for a cab to just sit here!"
Paul paid the driver and they went up. She was very excited, but she knew she wasn't about to go to dinner with this man wearing the nothing blouse and skirt she'd worn all day at work! She waved a hand, hoping he wouldn't notice what a mess she'd left the place in this morning.
"Sit down. I won't be a�" She broke off, laughing. "Yes I will. Ill be several minutes. Would you like a drink?"
He glanced around. "You don't have a roommate?"
"Nope. That's why this place is so small. I'd rather have a small place of my own than have to share with some other girl."
"I can do without a drink," he said. He sat down and picked up a copy of Newsweek. "Ill just try to bring myself up to date on the world."
Nodding, Roz headed for the closet. What she had was a tiny kitchenette hardly worthy of the name, a tubless bathroom with a shower stall like an upright steel casket, and this living-room-bedroom combination. She was glad she'd been able to put in the decorative screen, to separate the closet from the rest of the living room area.
She didn't consider changing behind the screen, though. From the closet she took the simple brass-buttoned dress of royal blue that really showed off her hair and eyes to best advantage-not to mention her figure. There were clean nylons in the bathroom, and she took shoes and panties with her. She said nothing as she walked to the bathroom; he was sitting there with his legs crossed, apparently reading something rather than merely leafing through the magazine.
In the bathroom Roz stripped, used a washcloth to cleanse the crucial areas, and sprayed with deodorant and perfume.
She had one stocking halfway up her leg and was bending to smooth it at the toes when he pushed open the door behind her.
She looked around, with eyes suddenly gone very wide.
They went even wider: the only things Paul was wearing were a grim look and a thick, deeply-livid hard-on up to his navel.
"What�what are you�"
"I wouldn't advise you to scream," he said.
"Anybody in the world could look at me and see I'm not a rapist!"
"Get out of here!" She straightened up and spun around with her hand rising, fingers curling into claws.
He slapped her across the face twice, back and forth, then grabbed her by the left tit and spun her around. She moaned, started to shriek, and decided against it. Her heart was going like a trip-hammer.
She couldn't believe it.
She was going to be raped!
He held her naked bottom against him, one strong, black-haired arm all the way around her at the waist, and gripping the opposite hip. His other hand was wandering lasciviously, ignoring her piteous pleadings of shame and shock and her involuntary struggles. His steadily moving hand made her naked knockers jump and flop and joggle.
Suddenly she made a decision and went limp in his grip.
"All right," she breathed out in a low, intense voice. "I won't fight. I won't do anything. See how you like that!"
"We'll see how you like it," he said, sliding his hand all over her softly jiggling breasts. "And how long you can keep that promise!"
Somehow she wasn't afraid. The guy was some kind of a nut, but she couldn't believe he was really dangerous. Not homicidal, or a cutter, or even a sadist who wanted to beat and bloody her before ramming her with the big hard-on intimidating her backside. Not anyone who dressed and talked the way he did.
Dressed! she thought, feeling the hard prod of his big dick against her squirming rump. She stopped moving her hips, too. She was panting. He wasn't.
His other hand loosened up, then came up to her tits. Using both hands, he played with the proudly projecting jugs, letting their fullness and firmness shake and quiver in his hands.
Slipping his fingers over warm fleshy roundness, he squeezed maliciously. She gasped, choked feverishly, and her stomach seemed to turn and spin.
It was all she could do to keep her claw-curled hands away from his rough ones.
She did. He was too big for her to fight. So she was going to be raped, and so he wanted to play titty-maul first. So she'd had her pill last night, and she'd take today's after he left!
Grinning, he bounced her anguished tits with up-slapping palms and fingers until the softly swollen beauties were jiggling furiously and the fattened undersides burned.
Then his thumbs and forefingers gripped the upthrust red nipples. He squeezed them with a cruel force that brought a little squeal from her hps.
Maddeningly, excitement and sexual hunger spread over her like a flame. Oh no I she thought, no, no, stop it... She was talking, mentally, to her own body. It didn't heed her. Her Goddamned traitorous body, she thought, going limp with submission and desire. The hard, heavy barrel of his cock throbbed away against her bare buttocks. It felt hot. So big, so strong, so masculine...
Her breathing was hard and fast. Her breasts rose and fell agitatedly in his grip. They felt suddenly bigger than they were, than the voluptuous balls had ever been. Bloated, swollen, filled with surging blood that pinkened them beautifully and tightened their outstabbing tips into fat, rubbery extrusions.
He turned her, hanging onto one breast in a silent threat. He steered her from behind, forcing her to walk into the living-bedroom. He guided her over to the couch.
"Bend over," he ordered. "Both hands on the couch." He squeezed the full swells of both slightly drooping breasts.
With a little sob, she bent forward to place her hands well apart on the couch. She knew her bare asscheeks were jutting up at him in a naked and defenseless incitement to his lust. Feeling herself tightening up, she tried very hard to relax.
He slid a hand, big and warm and hairy, in between her trembling thighs from behind. It cupped the bulging, taut bowl of her crotch and she moaned and shivered.
"Uh!"
She groaned, jerking, as a finger tickled its way into the vermilion slice in her sweet little pubic hill. The finger traced up and down her labia, parted them, and sank into her.
She heard his sudden chuckle.
Then she felt the finger he had pierced her with. It moved upward, tracing a wet path up her belly to her dangling breasts.
"You're all wet inside," he said. "My god, what a womanl"
"Please-" He slapped one fleshy white ball of her ass and smarting pain leaped through it�and hurled pine sensual pleasure all the way through her lower body until it found a damp home in her cunt.
"Uh�uhhhhhphl" she moaned again, and she had to brace her legs to keep from collapsing.
Very easily and swiftly and without jabbing, he slipped his cock up her cunt from behind. The big, hard length of warm maleness filled her wet slit and stretched its lips. With a gasp, she stag- gered forward. His hands clamped her hips. She was grateful for that.
He began sliding hard hot cock in and out of her.
With one hand he plucked at her swinging, elongated tits; with the other he rubbed and fondled the bulging pussy he probed with his vehemently hot meat. That left a great deal of his weight on the broad shelf formed by her upturned rump. She supported it. Staring down at the couch, she supported and accepted everything he gave her.
The first thing he gave her, shockingly, was a swift orgasm�or what she had always thought was orgasm; she still had things to learn about herself.
His hand plucked and rubbed at her puckered vulva and the little bud of sensation set high in the slit for less than a minute, and she came.
"Good lord," he muttered, "what a woman!"
She was totally incapable of saying anything at all. She'd have fallen if he had not held her up with his strong hands.
Then he pulled her around, a limp collection of boneless flesh and flaccid muscle in his hands. He kissed her. She was responding before she could collect her wits and stop herself. Then she did, pressing her hps together. He kissed that impas- sive mouth a few moments longer, while teasing her belly with his rock-hard length of male meat.
Then he stretched her out on the floor, on her back, and came onto her.
His driving tool buffeted forward past the wet, puckered lips of her vulva. They collapsed and folded submissively in as he attempted to impale her to the eye teeth with his raping cock. They sucked at him, those deep-pink labia, while he drove into the hot hole beyond them with hard, hammering blows that made her gasp and grunt.
Her legs came up and her bare soles pushed at the worn rug.
She set her teeth in her lower lip and tightened them in time with her inner tightening as she sought to squeeze and suck him internally, within her petalsoft cunt.
Her eyes stared intently up at him. They were unnaturally bright, almost feverish. Her body jerked up and flesh pounded flesh in sharp smacking sounds as he drove himself into her with animal abandon.
Rape, she thought, rape, rape, rape...
I'm being raped... he's raping me... Oh, SHIT, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE RAPE? It's so DAMNED GOOD!
'You bastard!" she hissed, then began wailing. "You bastard, bastard, bastard!" Her head was flailing back and forth. "I hate you, hate you!"
No ordinary rapist, he came back with a question that could be described as weird. He asked, "Why?"
"Why! You're raping me!"
He chuckled. "Not any more," he said, trying to hammer a wedge all the way up her guts with his rooting cock.
Without control, she strove, her squirming, surging, bucking, grunting best, to help him.
"But why, why did you have to RAPE me?" she wailed, still in anguish at the thought of it.
He shoved hard. "It seemed the best thing to do at the time."
He watched her as he made her a complete prisoner of his passion. Again and again her tongue flicked out, snaking over her hps so that they glistened when they writhed. Trying to smile up at him. But she would not, she could not allow herself to smile.
"Besides," he said, "you love it!"
She moaned and twisted her head aside so as not to have to meet his smiling gaze.
He ground in deeply, impaling her deep and skewering with greater force.
Smiling at the spasmodic contortions of her face�and her animated hips�he rammed his despoiling prick between her thighs and up her pussy with ceaselessly driving thrusts.
They grew hotter and hotter and their sweat mingled. Both of them gasped for every breath. IN and out; IN, hard, and out...
"Here," he groaned, barely able to breathe, "is... something... for you!" And he ground In hard and deep.
Then he shot her full of warm, surging semen.
Holding her face between both his big hands, he kissed her as he shot his hot cream into her cunt's quaking hollow. He kissed her�tenderly.
Then he lay there, propped on his forearms' with his chest riding the voluptuous upward surges of her tits, and he warmed her for minutes, long minutes, after his cock had ceased spurting and pumping its copious load into her warm-walled womb.
She tried to turn her head, tried to avert her face. He gripped it between those warm, powerful hands again, holding it steady and forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Roz," he repeated.
"What, what?" she sobbed out.
"I want you," he told her quietly. Again he touched, just touched, her hps with his.
She drummed her heels and jerked her head. "WANT me! Good GOD, God, you've HAD me!"
"No, I've only fucked you. I want you. I want you to get up and go in there and shower. I want you to put on that pretty blue dress and come with me someplace for a terribly expensive din- ner. Then I want to bring you back here and spend the night getting to know you. And the rest of the week, if necessary."
"You-you're CRAZY!"
He shook his head. "Believe it Or not," he said quietly, "I'm not."
And helplessly, she had heard herself laughing, lying there beneath the strange man with his cock and his semen oozing slowly out of her ravaged gash.
Now, sitting there on the couch in his home, her home, their home, with a dildo up her ravaged gash and her arms secured behind her in the single rubber glove he had made for her, she shook her head. Brenda saw that there were tears in the blonde's large, blue eyes.
"And�" Brenda prompted.
Roz sighed. "And I love him. I'm crazy about him. God, I'm crazy about that man. He is a man, and do you know how many men, I mean MEN there are in this damned shitty world? Fucking few!"
Brenda shook her head. She sighed. Her tits were swollen, or felt so. She knew without putting down a hand to check that she had gone all wet and fluttery in the cooze. Staring down at the couch, she asked, "And... did you get up and shower and put on the blue dress and go out to dinner with him?"
Roz shook her head with a strange, reminiscent little half-smile.
"No. I cooked for him. We had liver and peas and some cottage cheese and a peach. And a little wine I had�I remember everything about that night, you see. We talked all night, on and on, and at something like five A.M. he... well, it's the best word for it. There are a lot of ways to rape; he raped me again. In... the... the ass. I'd never... I was a virgin, back there. And I camel" She shivered.
"I called in sick," Roz went on. "He did too� which was funny, because it's his company, and his office, and it was funny, his lying to his own secretary! We spent most of the day in bed�after we finally got around to using it. That's all." She looked into Brenda's eyes. "I'm his."
Brenda sat there gazing at the floor, smoking another cigarette and thinking about what Roz had told her. A long shudder took her and she felt gooseflesh racing all up her back and along her arms.
"And you," Roz said, "you're very, very much like me." After a moment she added, "You needn't answer that. What time is it?"
Brenda looked at her watch and was astonished. "Five past four!"
"Good. Undo me and help me take out the dildo."
It took Brenda a long time to work the tight rubber glove down and off Roz's arms. The blonde worked the welted arms, swinging them back and forth across her chest. Then she stood.
Together, with Brenda simultaneously fascinated and revolted, they got the straps loose and pulled the dildo out of Roz's angrily red cunt. It came out with a yielding, quicksand shu-u-u-uck sound.
The long, thick, black shaft was all slimy. Roz sighed and sank back down on the couch. She lit a cigarette and sat there staring at the window. There were marks on her arms, and Brenda noticed that her long-stretched labia still hung open.
At last Roz stood up and released a long sigh. "Ahhhhhl Oh look!" She nodded at the big front window. "It's starting to snow, dammit! Well. I'm going up for a long, I mean lonnnng, bath!"
She walked out of the room and up the steps, naked but for the too-tight corset. Brenda assumed she could take it off herself�either that or Paul had told her to leave it on.
Roz was, as she had said, after all, Paul's.
Poor Roz, Brenda thought, watching the snow filter down outside, all soft and quiet.
Poor Roz... lucky Roz!
CHAPTER SEVEN
The phone rang at about four-twenty; it was Paul. He was in New York City still, and it had been snowing there for a couple of hours. They wouldn't be home, he and Greg.
Brenda went upstairs, tapped on the door of the enormous bathroom, and gave Roz the news through the door.
"I thought so," Roz called back, and Brenda heard the water lap as the blonde stirred in the tub.
She went back downstairs and stood at the front door, watching the snow come down. The ground was more than covered; there was already over an inch accumulation. She smiled. On impulse, she went to the closet, took out her coat, and tried on a pair of fur-topped, heeled boots. They were brown suede, and about a half-size too big. She wore them anyhow, and slipped on a pair of silly pink mittens.
Then she went outside, stood in the snow for a moment, breathing deeply, and turned to walk around back. The white yard stretched out to the black-and-white woods, the trees' branches building up a coating of snow. Silence; the snow didn't even hiss. Silent, and peaceful, and beautiful.
She walked.
She walked among the snowy trees, seeing everything, the branches with their white coating, the way the snow clung to the trunks here and there, the weird shapes of snow-covered fallen branches here and there, the way the snow turned brush into strange and artistic new shapes. All white. She walked, feeling utterly at peace amid such silent white beauty.
Brenda, surrounded by the virginal whiteness of the virginal and still-falling snow.
She was aware of the soft joggling of her breasts, naked inside her sweater, and of the lining of her coat, cold against her bare arms and legs. She was glad she'd bought the maxi and had been stupid enough to take it to Nevada with her.
The lining was chilly against her bare legs, above Roz's fur-topped suede boots, but it kept off the snow and most of the cold. She was aware of being pantsless. On a sudden chilly impulse, she stopped and deliberately opened her coat.
She opened it all the way down�it buttoned to the waist and overlapped without fastenings from there down�and held it wide. She felt the snow on her legs. The chill air. The little breeze, stirring the hem of her short skirt and rising up her thighs to her crotch.
She laughed suddenly. "I'm glad I've got such a nice fur coat on my vaj," she giggled, speaking to the down-drifting snow, and she let go her coat and hiked her skirt all the way up to her waist.
The air was cold on her bare thighs and her genitals, bare but for the furry coat of pubic hair it wore. She watched the snow strike the little triangular bush, remaining white for just a moment, then vanishing as it melted into the fleece.
She laughed aloud again. "I must have a hot cunt!"
"Looks that way," a very male voice said. "Looks pretty hot from here, though. Lie down on your back and I'll cover it up for you."
With a squeal, she let go her skirt and jerked her head up. He seemed to have materialized, born in an instant out of thin air and the snow. He hadn't been there moments ago. Now there he was, no more than twenty feet away, standing there gazing at her. She'd been showing him her pussy!
He was tall, and he looked bulky in a shaggy gray-white parka. It had a hood, but it wasn't up. His unkempt mop of red hair was bare to the same snow that fell into his beard and vanished on his light coat.
He wore zip arctics, lined rubber overshoes that rose partway up his calves and zipped up the front, and she could see brown trousers stuffed loosely, bagging over, into the tops of the boots. And he wore brown gloves.
And he had a gun pointed at her.
She stared at it. She didn't know if it were a rifle or a shotgun. Just a long gun, black and scary. She'd never had a gun pointed at her before.
He took a silent step toward her and she pulled her coat around her and glanced wildly about.
"Like a skittish doe," he said. "Be still." He waggled the long black barrel of the gun. "It's a simple decision, honey. You've already showed me your bare pussy, and I could see your nips through your sweater too, all hardened up with the cold. Not a sign of underwear on you. And out here all by yourself. In the cold. Flaunting your pussy and giggling like a child. A simple decision," he repeated, coming forward another step, and another. With the rifle leveled before him. Or the shotgun, whichever.
"All you have to decide is whether to run and get shot or stick around and get fucked."
She stared at him. She was trembling all over, suddenly very cold.
"You�you wouldn't dare!"
"Which?" he asked. The rifle barrel jerked, just a shade to the left. Then she heard a sound like that of a ruler being slapped down on a desktop. At the same instant snow leaped up beside her; snow, and a piece of bullet-broken twig.
Snik-click, his rifle said, as he worked the bolt to shove another cartridge into the chamber.
"You did see me jerk the barrel, didn't you?" He had swung it back. Now it was pointed at her again. "Let go of your coat."
Staring, shaking, she let go of her long coat. It sagged aside.
"Sit down."
"You just can't�" He gestured with the rifle, still moving toward her.
With her teeth set in her lower hp, Brenda sat down.
He laughed. 'You'd better pull that coat up under your ass and legs, girl, or they're going to get mighty damned cold!"
She tugged the coat up under her legs, like a blanket beneath her.
A blanket! No!
"Now." He was two feet away from her, a parka-clad, red-bearded man with large blue eyes and red hair�and a rifle. It was almost touching her sweatered breasts. "Now," he said again. "Lie back. Flat. On your back."
"Oh damn it! But�oww!"
He jabbed her in the right tit with the rifle barrel. She flopped onto her back. Then she shivered violently as, using the end of that cold, black barrel again, he hoisted her skirt. Higher.
"Ooooh!"
The rifle barrel had touched her inner thigh: instant goose pimples. Now cold air brushed thighs and vulva as he forced the skirt higher. And higher still.
He stood there looking down at it.
She knew what the son of a bitch was looking at. An absolute profusion of sleekly glistening fur, red, darker red than the hair of her head. It curled and coiled all over the swollen firmness of her Mons Veneris. Fleshy hps, pink and usually glistening moistly. A damned fine-looking cunt. That's what the son of a bitch was standing there eyeballing, she thought angrily. She licked at a snowflake that landed at the corner of her mouth, and then she smiled.
Oh lord. Her vaj had been getting quite a workout lately. She hoped it wasn't hanging open�like Roz's, after they'd pulled that obscene fat dildo out of it with a slushy plopping sound!
"Open it up."
"Wha-what?"
"Put your hands down and open up your pussy. I want to see inside it."
"You go to hell!"
He shoved the rifle barrel down. She sucked in a sharply whining breath as she felt it, like ice, prodding open the pink-lipped mouth of her vaginal crack.
"All right, all right! Ill do it! Ill open it-god, that's cold!"
He laughed, then watched interestedly as she reached down, slipped her fingers in through the softly curling hair, and peeled open the labia. Now he could see their sweetly pink inner surfaces, and the ragged-looking inner lips, much darker, nearly red, framing the dark little hole back up into her womb.
"Nice cunt," he said. "OK; let's see your tits."
"Damn you!" she snapped, jerking up her sweater to show him her belly and the naked up-mounded hills of her tits. The nipples snapped taut instantly in the cold air, and she knew they must look like fat red cherries, as if she were all turned on for this armed bastard who menaced her with his goddam gun. Angrily, she grabbed her tits at the bases and shook them at him.
The snow continued sifting down, each of its icy kisses on her bare flesh like a momentary ant-sting.
"There," she said angrily. "There're my tits. I think they're pretty damned good ones, how about you?"
"I've seen better," he said casually, opening his parka, and then his pants, all with one hand. "Here's my cock. I think it's a pretty damned good one, how about you?"
"I've seen bet�" she began, and then the monster came plunging out of his fly. She stared at it with bulging eyes. He looked like somebody on God's staff had been drunk the day he was born, and got him mixed up with a horse.
He laughed, noting well how she'd broken off to stare.
"Well?"
She was shivering, only partially from the cold. "You big, arrogant, raping bastard\ You know it as well as I do. That is the biggest damned prong in the Western Hemisphere!"
"Well get ready for it, because it's comin' up your pretty snatch, Red."
"Don't call me Red, damn you!"
"What's your name, then?"
She swallowed. Trade names with a gunpoint rapist? Someone was crazy. She remembered the name Paul had called her, on the train. "Rusty," she said.
He laughed again, getting down onto his knees between her outstretched legs. "I hope not!" he said. "Anything I hate it's a rusty cunt!"
"Gunnnnh!" she groaned, jerking hard when he rammed his thumb straight into the pliable mouth of her feminine cleft. "G-g-gnnn�ah! Ow�that hurts!"
"You're bullshittin' me," he said, moving his thumb around inside her and grinding his hand over her labia and her clitoris, which was already poking out a little to check the action. "Feels like a cunt that's seen plenty of service, to me. No, I'd say it's not rusty."
He plopped his thumb out and she jerked her legs up and toward each other, with another groan. Her head swung back and forth. Snow was falling all over her. It was cold. Her teeth were chattering. Suddenly she was thinking longingly of the warmth of his body and of the fact that it would deflect the snow from her. She almost smiled.
Poor Brenda, she thought. Going to get raped by the biggest whang in the Western Hemisphere� and all she can think about is how cold she is!
This big red-headed, red-bearded mother also had to be the slowest rapist in the hemisphere!
But not once he was ready. When he was ready, he moved all at once, and she knew an instant of the pain she had forgotten since her days of virginity.
He rammed it home and shoved it all the way up her desperately-flowering cunt in one long and violently hard lunge.
"Uggghhhhhhh-ah, ah-oh, God!"
"Feel that?"
"I... f-feel... it-tt... all the way... uh!" she shivered, "�in my... stomach!" He laughed aloud.
Then he pulled it all the way out, a great redheaded cock that looked no smaller in breadth than her wrist and long as a ruler.
She sucked up a nervous breath, licking her lips anxiously, waiting to be impaled again on that terrible truncheon, then fucked with her body pinned beneath his like a spread trophy in some perverse collection.
Again he lunged hard, sending his huge cock rushing deep into the fleshy inner folds of her hot wet pussy. Again she felt it, every incoming inch of it, scraping along every centimeter of soft inner flesh.
He pounded her body with his, sprawling on her and building the pressure in his loaded balls to the point of pain every time he forced himself far and far into her innermost depths.
"Damn," she grunted, over and over. "Oh damn, damn�" He started pulling way back again, and she whimpered.
She thrust up at him, swallowing his full length and thickness up in her stretched, snail soft pussy and making the engulfed monster of a prick move about inside her.
She saw his eyes go wide. His big red-haired hands came up to grasp her breasts like hang-on knobs. He hung on. Then he started jerking, and in moments he had shot her so full of seething cum it was dribbling back out all around his cock.
She felt it start going down inside her, immediately.
And suddenly she was laughing. "Wow!" she cried, stretching out her coat-sleeved arms to the snowy skies. "That's it! The big bad rapist! A few big hard thrusts and zappo, he's clean out of juice!" And she laughed some more.
He pulled out of her, and then she winced as something slapped her cuntlips, hard. She came half up to a sitting position, her face contorted in pain. His hand caught her. It sank into one breast, clutched, squeezed, and shoved. She fell back with another cry, but she had seen with astonishment what it was he had beaten her vulva with�and was now continuing to beat it with, steadily.
He was using his big flaccid cock as a strap to larrup her sexual flesh as if it were a fat-headed, thick-lashed whip!
"Uh," he grunted, slapping her hard on the reddening hps. She jerked and gasped. "Uh!" Another slap across the cunt. She shuddered and squirmed. "Uh!" Then "Uh!" and "Uh! Uh! Uh! Take that, you quick-shooting son of a bitch! And that! Uh!"
"Oh oh, oh, please, please�my God, your hurting me!"
"Haha! Hurtin' you! You silly little red-snatched doll you�I'm damned near breakin' my cock! But�UH!�by God it's working�Uh!�just look at it!"
With snow falling over her face and hair and breasts and belly, she shoved herself up on her elbows and looked down the valley between her quivering, naked tits. They glistened with melted snow; her whole body did.
And she saw his cock, his terrible hurtful pussy-beater of a horsecock.
It was standing up again, an outsize and totally erect weapon, eager to do battle.
"Good lord!"
"Yeah! Good cock!" he cried, and he rammed it home.
"Yaaaaaanggghhh!" She fell backward so hard that her head banged and a pinwheel of light went off inside her skull. Then she grunted again. This time it was beneath his shaggy-parka'd weight. He sprawled full on her and began fucking her with all his might, missionary style.
First she felt his weight. Then she felt the soft furry caress of his parka. Then it became warm, and warmer, and she sighed beneath him. She slid her hands inside the coat, making it flower open to form a tent all about her body. She gripped his sides with her mittened hands. She hung onto him as her rapist reamed her out a second time�less than five minutes after the first!
The snow floated down and the sky drew darker and darker. A little wind stirred snow and snapped her hair across her face. She burrowed her face into his beard and concentrated on soaking up all his marvelous warmth.
Her blood pumped fast and hard, bringing more warmth, and her mossy hps gulped his cock as her body rammed up to meet his.
Her squirming butt danced up and down and flicked furiously back and forth with its firm cheeks opening, spreading beneath her, then snapping shut against the lining of her coat as she jerked herself up at him.
"Ungh!" Each upward jerk slammed so much powerful, rock-hard tool into her that she felt as if the bottom were coming out of her womb. When he comes this time, she thought, I'm liable to taste it!
Her cuntlips opened and closed, squeezing and caressing his rigid, outsize prick in their soft embrace.
He shoved his cock down her vaginal throat with savage thrusts. It throbbed and quivered at the delicate contact and pressuring of the soft folds of her labia. Time after time he drew back until his mighty prod had come nearly all the way out of the hot crevice. Then, with a strong jerk of his thighs, he sent it rapidly rushing back through the hot, velvety lips and deep inside the tender shelter of her moist vaginal canal.
The big head rammed deep, shoving little jolts of sensuous warmth ahead of it. Moist, clinging membranes clung and pulled it all the way in to the hilt, until his semen-inflated nuts dangled against her buttocks and the furrow between her stretched pussy hps.
She was getting sore. It was magnificent, glorious, beautiful, being fucked this way by a cocky cock truly worthy of the name. But it was also punishment. He had just a little too much for her, and he was giving her every steely inch of it.
Her widesplit and well-reamed cuntal hollow felt as if someone had seared it with a hot poker� which was still searing it.
The lips were beginning to sting, feeling raw.
There was a dull ache way back up inside, which she supposed must be from the huge head of his cock, bouncing off her cervix.
She sighed, hunched twice to get just the proper amount of friction on her clit, and popped her rocks in a long shuddering, jerking, moaning orgasm that had her wishing she could crawl even deeper into his big coat and go to sleep.
But he continued rummaging her. It was even worse than before now, with her cunt so sensitized from her orgasm. She wished he'd pull the damned ball-bat out of her and stick it in her mouth, even up her ass�that made her shudder! Not because she thought her mouth or anus could handle it, but because her cunt needed the relief. It was getting entirely too much wear and tear.
"Listen," she gasped, "you can... God dammit, you can... come any time you're ready, you know."
He tucked his head back down into his coat, nudging her head with his chin. "What?"
"I said you can COME WHEN BEADY DAMN IT! I'M SORE AND ALL WORN OU-AAA-HHHHHHHH!"
"Oh," he interrupted, and rammed up in her with all his might. Then he came.
The seed of his second orgasm was so thick and powerful that it felt like somebody hurling hot bullets up her cunt. She felt every spurt, and she'd thought she was long since past feeling semen coming into her pussy! She groaned, squirmed, and shivered.
At last he pushed himself up and she felt his still-thick prick plop out of her agonized quim.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Oh God, Ohh____That was�oh God!"
"Pretty good, huh?"
"You�you've torn me up inside."
He placed a big warm hand over her tender pussy. "Nahh. Not a sign of pink comin' out of you, honey. It's all white milk. You're fine. You're also a damned good fuck. I wish I could keep you." He sighed, pushing himself back and kneeling up, looking down at her. He shook his head.
"Well, you can't, Mister!"
He sighed. "I know," he said. "Hell, I've lost my head and raped you." He reached for the rifle. "I got to kill you, damn it."
For the first time since she'd first seen him, Brenda went icy cold and shivery with fear and horror. She stared at him. He was leaning across her naked legs, reaching for the rifle.
She pulled both legs all the way up to her belly and kicked him squarely in his red beard with Roz Collins' high-heeled suede boots. His head snapped back, a choked cry started up out of his throat and broke off, and he fell over backward and sidewise. He groveled.
Brenda pounced up, wincing at the pain in her lacerated vagina, and snatched up the rifle. When he looked up, he was gazing straight up the bore, which was about a foot away. He blinked.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to put some strength in her weak body, and hoping he couldn't hear the knocking of her knees. The milium lining of her maxicoat against her bare legs was colder than the snow. "But I just don't feel like being killed today. You�" Both of them looked up at the shouting of voices. Brenda and the redbearded rapist stared at the two men running through the woods toward them. They wore silly little Smoky-bear hats and cute little pants stuffed into boots and long coats. And each of them was waving a pistol.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"That's just... incredible! Fascinating!" Roz exclaimed avidly. Her eyes were very wide and excited and she leaned far forward toward Brenda. "Do you think he really would have killed you?"
Brenda was in the tub, trying not to be put off because Roz had followed her into the bathroom and now sat perched on the toilet while Brenda gave her body a well-deserved soak in water full of Roz's bath oil and just as hot as she could stand it. Little streamers of steam curled up from the water.
"I don't know," she admitted. "They said he was some sort of desperate nut-on-the-loose�true! �and that he was wanted for rape in two places in Connecticut and also in Massachusetts. He didn't act very guilty about it. Just grinned while they put the handcuffs on him. I gave them his rifle and they asked if he'd harmed me in any way."
"Yes? Yes?" Roz leaned even farther forward.
Brenda sighed and leaned back in the large, deep tub. It was large enough and deep enough for her to be able to watch the fascinating phenomenon of her floating tits without having to scrooch way down in it.
"I said no, he hadn't, and�" She paused to shake her head. "He went apeshit. Screamed and yelled about how he'd put it to me twice, by God, betchoo pig-bastards couldn't ball no broad twice in a fuckin' row!" She rolled her eyes. "I just stood there and stared at him like he was nuts. I guess he is. Anyhow, they asked me again, and I told them look, I am fully clothed, and I think I would certainly know if I were a recent rape victim, right? They looked pretty embarrassed and one of them asked me my name. I said Rusty Devlin, and the nut confirmed that, yeah, my name was Rusty all right, that's what I'd told him. So they asked me my real name, and I told them Henrietta Rae Devlin. They asked where I lived and like that, and I got huffy."
Roz was starting to laugh. She stared at the other woman, leaning way forward off the toilet seat with her chin in both hands.
"They suggested things like pressing charges, and then taking me home, you know, one thing after another. Finally I turned around and started walking. So they went off with him. I was careful to walk the opposite direction from where they'd come from." She shrugged. "I've got this thing, I guess. I don't mind being pushed around by men� you know that."
"You groove on it, same's I do," Roz observed, eyeing Brenda's floating tits.
"Um. But anyhow, cops re different. They always like to come on strong because they wear those cute boyscout suits and wear big guns and all and think they can just cow everybody." She stopped and gazed at Roz. "That's all, Roz."
"Wow," Roz shook her head, in her hands. "If I didn't think it was too wild to make up, I'd think you made it up."
Brenda sighed and went limp in the lovely hot water. "Sure. I made it up." She passed a hand carefully over her vulva. And winced. A little soreness there, still. Some kind of tool, she thought.
Roz sighed. "OK," she said. "I'll go see what we'll rustle up for supper�and make sure all the doors are locked! We've got it all to ourselves tonight, Brenda. No use getting dressed up unless that's your thing. Me, I'm staying in this robe."
Brenda nodded and Roz left. Brenda wiggled a little, getting farther down in the water.
She didn't emerge until nearly seven o'clock. By that time her genital area felt fine but her stomach was imitating a zoo full of lions. She toweled herself, sprayed with this and that, and slipped into her Reno extravagance: the black velour robe.
Then she went downstairs.
Hi-feel better?"
"A lot better! Sorry�I didn't mean to stay up there so long. It was just so good." She giggled. "Too bad you missed it, Roz�that redbearded mothah had some kind of tallywhacker!"
Roz laughed. "Oh well," she said, "can't lose 'em all. Listen, I decided to hell with those men and this bachelor girl stuff: you and I deserve a pair of steaks. That's what's cookin'. Why don't you inspect the likker cabinet and make us something?"
"What?"
"Umm... " They decided on Martinis, then canceled that, agreeing that Martinis made each of them sexy, every time. With Roz calling off instructions, Brenda constructed a couple of Old Fashioneds. She shouldn't have; they were so tasty she tossed hers back in no time and had to put together two more. She was so hungry she was feeling the first one.
They ate in the kitchen, Roz bringing out one bottle of beer and two slush-mugs, which made for the coldest beer Brenda had ever enjoyed.
Still exchanging stories, little confidences with frequent giggles and risque remarks, they cleaned up and carried a couple of snifters into the living room, for brandy and cigarettes.
"Well," Roz said, sitting back and crossing her legs, "I told you my story, Brenda. Now tell me yours."
"Tell you�listen, I fust did! No more rape stories from me, kid! I've had a perfectly normal life up until now!" She shivered.
Suddenly, just like that, Roz sat forward and fixed her with a level gaze.
"Brenda, please come to bed. I want to eat you. You know I know how."
Brenda stared at her. Then she shivered, thinking about it, and she nearly dropped her brandy. After another long moment of staring, she nodded. Once, sharply, almost jerkily.
Roz smiled and tipped up her brandy snifter. "I thought you were like me," she said smiling. "You just can't resist sex!"
Brenda had a sudden fond thought of her recent experience in the snow. Slowly, she smiled. Slow- ly, she and Roz got up. They came together in the center of the room, looked at each other a moment, and went upstairs.
The master bedroom was enormous, really enormous. There was a huge bed, a genuinely huge bed with a headboard containing assorted controls, several chairs and tables, a refrigerator and television set, two radios, a rocker and a lovely little loveseat, and one entire wall of sliding-door closets. Another was totally mirrored, and chests of drawers, topped by mirrors, ran across another. The huge room was wall-to-wall carpeted with bright, deep red and strewn with pillows. A door led into a large bathroom with shower, tub in a separate room, double sink, commode, and bidet. And another completely mirrored wall.
Gazing at each other, the two women began stripping.
Brenda smiled suddenly. "Who's in charge?"
"In charge?" Roz put her head on one side.
Brenda shrugged, conscious of the fact that her tits were jumping�and that they were firmer than Roz's, which were bigger, great balls hung like massive ornaments from her chest.
"Um hm," Brenda nodded. "We both know and freely admit that we dig dominating men. That means we both like to be taken charge of. That may be bad grammar, but it describes us, doesn't it?"
Grinning, Roz nodded.
"Well. So who takes charge?"
"Nobody," Roz said, backing to the bed and sinking down on it. "Just come to bed and I think we'll work it out."
Brenda sighed. Good. Know it or not, Roz had just taken charge. That made Brenda feel very comfortable, secure, and she hurried to join the other woman. It was something she had never done before, but she had already discovered a thing or two about herself, with these people.
For one thing, she'd liked Roz's mouth on her pussy.
For another, she couldn't help wondering. What did it feel like? What did it taste like? What was it like to suck titty? What was it like to make love with a soft, rounded body?
She glanced around and turned a frowning face on Roz.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Sure is a lot of light in here."
Roz laughed and sprawled up the bed, extending an arm to the headboard. Brenda's eyes dropped onto the sweet, rounded cheeks of the other woman's contracting ass. The whip-marks had faded almost to nothing, although one little place looked like it was going to be a bruise. Staring at that lovely feminine backside, Brenda unconsciously licked her hps. Then, realizing what she'd done and what she was thinking, she smiled.
But Roz was playing her hand over the dials and knobs and switches on the bed's headboard, and the lights were changing. The bright ones went off. The mirror wall took on a pale blue glow. A little blinking light, red and green, flicked on over on the polished black table in the corner.
"Good grief," Brenda gasped, turning slowly to look all around the room. "You just turned this place into a whorehouse!"
"Wow�you know what the inside of one looks like?"
Brenda laughed.
"Well, anyhow," Roz laughed with her, "come on down here and let's play whores�on their night off."
Feeling a definite excited sensation of heated sexuality, Brenda sank down onto the huge bed with the other woman. A small sigh slipped from her hps when Roz palmed her tit from beneath. Her fingers slowly tightened as, with her eyes on Brenda's she moved her face closer and closer.
Their hps met. Brenda allowed hers to flower open, slipping a hand over Roz's waist and down onto the flare of her hip and feeling pressure against her breasts. It was strange, realizing that the pressure against the resplendent thrusts of her jugs came, not from a male chest, but from the corpulent beauty of Roz's chest.
She could feel the blonde's naked tits brushing lightly over hers, soft and smooth, and she felt a sudden flare of anticipation and sensuality.
Roz's hands were moving too, very gently, over the firm-fleshed swells of the redhead's hips at the same time as she let her tongue play lightly over the younger woman's hps. Brenda sighed, opening her mouth more and more to the invading female tongue, the first such she had ever received into her mouth.
It was warm and wet and squirming inside her face, and the blonde's hands were warm and coaxing, lightly coasting and caressing.
Brenda's hand moved up, coming up beneath a firm-fleshed but lower-slung and fuller breast than her own. She pressed it gently, fondly, exploratorily, feeling and hearing the other woman's sighing little moan in her mouth.
They began to pant and to play, their hands fondling and roaming, their bodies quivering, their tongues leaping in and out of panting, warmly lustful mouths.
Then Roz pulled back her head, smiled, and lowered her mouth to kiss her slow way down the other woman's neck, into the hollow of her throat, nibbling the pulse there with her soft hps, and on down over her chest until her mouth was coasting out the long creamy slope of Brenda's left breast.
Her tongue leaped and drove down to suckle at the sweet, delectable mounds until their rosy tips jutted forth in obvious eagerness. They grew harder, thicker, longer, and she sighed and groaned in a flickering joy and swollen, straining pain. Brenda's hands began to clutch and sink into the woman's flesh. Roz sighed, moaned, and sucked titty.
The tight, shiny rings that surrounded the sweet buds she sucked were a flaming red-violet. She applied more and more sucking pressure. She strove to stuff her mouth with the lushly abundant femininity, and their owner strove to stuff them in for her.
Brenda sighed and quivered, reveling, exulting in the eager devotion of that lusting female mouth at her breasts and the swollen nipples set like jewels in the precise center of each white globe. Delicious little flutters ran up through her titties and a sudden wanton urge threatened to consume her.
Pushing forward, she forced Roz onto her back, then turned swiftly around on the bed to kneel over her. Roz's chuckle came up from low in her belly. Then, with Brenda's elongated breasts dangling over the blonde's face and Brenda's head bent over the other's upsurging bosom, they made warm, wet oral love to each other's sensitive nipples.
Their hands became busy, too.
Passion rocked Brenda as the other woman's hand moved in between her parted thighs and stroked her pubic fur as though it was the most delicate and expensive kitten-fur in the world. She began squirming, sucking titty strongly, feeling convulsive little twitches leap through her belly. Sliding her hand along the sheet, she found Roz's hip, climbed it with her fingers, teased down over the fine silky tuft of silky fleece. Her fingertips traced the swollen, spongy plumpness of the blonde's vaginal bulge. She moved her shoulders slightly, one of her nipples deep in Roz's mouth and the other slapping her cheek softly. She felt Roz's belly move in a little giggle.
Now Brenda's wandering fingers found the darling pliant hps of Roz's open, sleek-haired slit. She slithered her fingertips over the silky, moist hps, teasing them and able to feel them drawing still farther apart.
"Umm-mm-m-m-mmmmmm," Brenda moaned, quivering, as Roz pressed a finger up onto the springy tidbit of her clitoris.
The welcome finger slid up into her. She jerked and sighed; the other woman was very slow in everything she did, very gentle, almost teasing in her lack of impatience and full understanding of the delicacy of the nipple she sucked and the lips she parted and the soft-skinned slit she fingered and entered.
With one finger buried all the way up inside the girl's bedewed cuntal recess, Roz slipped her other hand up, up over her back, onto the back of her neck, and pulled. With a little squeal, Brenda toppled sidewise.
Instantly Boz turned on her side to face her. Brenda blinked, looking directly into the soft and moisture-glistening flesh of open pussy. She quivered, knowing that her own warm little chink was similarly presented to Roz's gaze. She felt Roz's hand slip up over her hip, press firmly onto her upper buttock, and tug. Brenda allowed herself to be pulled toward the other woman... toward her face... toward the source of the warm breath the love-starved redhead could now feel fanning her glorious crimson bush of pubic hair.
Trembling in anticipation, she stared with wide eyes at blonde-fringed cunt while her darker-fleeced one was drawn steadily toward soft, warm female lips.
The lips of Roz's mouth and Brenda's lower mouth met damply, warmly, softly, and Brenda sighed in the sudden grip of the exquisite sensations that engulfed her.
She started to press her head in between Roz's round thighs.
"Relax. Don't. Just enjoy," the other woman murmured, and a heavy shudder shook Brenda's entire body as warm mouth glided down onto vibrant genital flesh.
She sighed, feeling the sharp little tongue flicking and flickering. It was a butterfly pressure over her cuntlips, and she knew they were parting, dampening. Then it came lapping at her rigid, pulsing clit. Her vagina welled up wetly and liquid heat writhed inside her belly. The close-pressed pink hps began to exude a dewy sap in response to the warm, wet tongue squirming over her vulva.
She flopped backward, Roz following. Brenda sighed, staring at the strange bedroom's ceiling with glassy eyes, enjoying and enjoying.
Her eyes widening in lust, she squirmed beneath the gentle feminine mouth and lingual pressures, arching her cunt anxiously up to that beloved face.
Her pussy was now flooding wet. Her thighs quivered tensely and she had to work to keep from clamping the head between them. She was writhing and squirming in a hot wet delirium of delight. Soft warm lips kneaded and manipulated her soft warm lips, but oh, the difference in the sensitiveness of those lips!
"Pinch your nipples," Roz urged, blowing her breath hot into the open cunt spread before her.
"No-o-o-o," Brenda moaned softly. Her hands twitched, moved to her breasts, coasted along their slopes, but refused to attack the upstanding erections of their summits. Roz nibbled playfully at soft pussy-flesh, just enough to suggest pain, rather than to inflict it. She slid one hand under the other woman's lovely asscheeks, fondling the twin white hemispheres. She scratched, and she nibbled.
"Do it. Pinch your nipples. Or-I'll bite!"
The threat made Brenda's body lurch as if struck. She groaned aloud. Her own fingers and thumbs closed over the hard-tipped peaks of her jiggling, swollen-feeling tits. She pressed firmly, all around the congealed nipples.
"Uh," she gasped, "ooh... "
"Just keep doing that, darling," Roz said with a smile, and she thrust her nose into Brenda's open pussy so that she could ram her tongue even farther into the girl, between the very surfaces of her wet labia. At the same time, she slipped her hand in to where the hot, tight crease parted the girl's asscheeks, and she pushed.
Brenda groaned aloud. Her nipples were being squeezed. Her cunt was being probed and lapped. And now a finger was slithering up her asshole.
She groaned, jerked, sighed, and tried desperately to hold still as her body was utterly taken by sensuality. Her eyes closed. Her head jerked madly back and forth. She gave way and let out a shrill scream, feeling that wet little tongue flipping around inside the open mouth of her flowing cunt.
Roz was lapping it up now, like a kitten at a bowl of milk, greedily swallowing the warm flood her tongue had drawn from that deeply-pierced and agitated cleft. Lifting her head, she smiled at the sight of the girl's heaving, fluttering belly and the way her soft-looking tits jumped and rolled on her chest with her excited jerking about.
Waves of pleasure rolled over the supine girl, washed through her juicing pussy and made her cry out, again and again.
Then the final paroxysms seized her sweat-streaming body and the loving tongue was suddenly unwelcome, feeling like sandpaper on her supersensitized cunt, as she surged jerkily in orgasm. Pure animal pleasure shook her, rolled over her, and left her lax and loose-limbed, collapsing weakly as if she'd been stabbed to death.
She lay there a long time, sliding down from the pinnacle of her sated passions. She was only vaguely aware that Roz had left the bedroom, and had forgotten about it when the naked blonde returned. As she walked, her big, white tits swung and jiggled as if they were about to fly off her chest. She carried one of the home-made ciga- rettes and a beer stein full of water, and she was grinning.
They shared the joint, and Brenda was floating after the fourth deep drag. She drank off most of the water, feeling only mildly guilty. She watched while Roz pinched out the cigarette and saved the nub-end. Then, sitting on the side of the bed, she smiled down at the nakedly sprawled redhead.
"Feel good?" she asked, gently massaging one soft-nippled tit.
Brenda sighed happily as she nodded. "Good! I feel better than that! Ohh, Roz! What you can do with your mouth!"
"Maybe now you know how good a man feels when we suck him off."
"Hm! I never thought of that�yeah, I guess so!" She shivered and hugged herself. "Wow! They sure feel good!"
Roz giggled. "You want to go to sleep now?"
Brenda jerked her head to look up at the other woman, between and over the great thrust of her bosom. "Sleep? Hell no! I want to try to make you go as wild as you did me!"
Roz fell across her, hugging her. "Good! I hoped that's what you'd want to do, darling!"
Brenda stroked her buttocks. "You want me to tell you when to pinch your nipples?"
"Yes!" Roz answered with an excited shiver.
"Yes! Tell me to shove my nails in�you know I like to be hurt in lovemaking!"
Brenda laughed, slapping the other woman's upturned demiglobe of buttock. "You want me to beat your pretty tail?"
"Uh-uh. That we'll leave to Paul."
"OK, tail-whacking's not exactly my thing anyhow. Roll over now, baby, and let's see how much of a stew we can get you into!"
"Easy," Roz pleaded as she rolled over onto her back. "Take it slow... let it build up... please?"
Brenda was already running her wet tongue all over the other woman's belly and down into the hollow of her thighs, framing her bulging, blonde-curled bulge but deliberately teasing Roz by not touching the vulva itself. Grinning, kneading soft flesh with her fingers, she kept that up until Roz was begging her to lick her slit.
Carefully, interestedly watching what she was doing and what the other woman's reaction would be, Brenda hovered over the parted hps of the blonde's pussy and slipped her tongue out slowly. Just as slowly, she bowed her head. Then she planted a warm, firm kiss on flesh lightly covered with silky hair. Roz moaned.
Brenda's nose and tongue took in the fragrant aroma and succulent flavor of the passion juice that began oozing swiftly out to sheen the pale pussy fur. Roz's naked body was twisting sensually, erotically, and she was beginning to moan.
Suddenly Brenda ceased moving, but merely knelt there with her tongue out and touching the other woman's slitted pussy. Roz groaned, then quivered and jerked. She began moving, hunching herself up against the lazy tongue.
She hunched and sighed and squirmed, working her heated slit up and down that welcome tongue in a delicious rapture. Her eyes rolled and her mouth fell flaccidly open. She tongue-fucked herself that way for several minutes, until her mound was covered with saliva and Brenda's chin dripped both saliva and the fluid warmth now freely seeping from between the distended pink lips of that honeyed slash.
She made her tongue firm and stiff when Roz began to thrust her throbbing clit up against it. Suddenly remembering what had been done to her, Brenda slipped her hands under the other woman and cupped her firm asscheeks. Finding the softly coiled anus, she pushed. Roz moaned and jerked spasmodically. Brenda kept pushing.
She pushed and wiggled that stiffened finger up and in until its first joint was well lodged within the tightly contracting sphincter. She pushed some more. The little hole throbbed and contracted furiously. Roz's up-and-down movements against the girl's tongue were not so violent now, as she finger-fucked herself automatically with every hunching thrust.
Her heart pounded and she went all tingly hot as more and more stiff hot finger came marauding up the long, tight tunnel of her ass.
Her hands had moved up to the full thrusting fruits of her shapely tits. She groaned and shuddered in pain and pleasure. Her nipples flamed in agony as she squeezed harder and harder, digging her nails into herself and turning the long, stiff erections as if she were trying to unscrew them from the shuddering mounds of her breasts.
"Unnnngh," she groaned throatily, "a-a-aa-arrrrrrrgnnghhh�ah, oh, oh, oh dar�darling... unhhl" Then she jerked up her legs and clamped.
"Ahggkkl" Brenda gasped, her head suddenly thigh-fenced and vised.
Squeezing that beloved, red-topped head between her strong, savory thighs, Roz exerted a relentless pressure. Warm, wet tongue sank into her pussy and Brenda, getting desperate, starting jerking her ass-sunk finger about.
Roz screamed, once. That was all she had energy for. Then she seemed to convulse as she hit the awesome heights of passion. Her cunt was steaming, snapping. Endless waves of sharp, liquid orgasm washed and rolled over her until she felt her sweat streaming down her sides. It tickled, but she hardly noticed.
She just came and came.
"Cuddle up," she gasped weakly, a long while later. She reached down to tug Brenda up close beside her. "Let's... let's rest awhile and... and then we'll see if we can stand it again�this time with both of us licking at once."
Brenda snuggled her tits up against the other woman's. She sighed.
"That was really lovely, wasn't it?"
"Really lovely," Roz sighed. After a long pause she asked. "What else could a woman want?"
Brenda said nothing, but she sighed rather loudly.
Suddenly the blonde laughed. "You too, huh?"
"Me too what?"
"What else could a woman want?"
"Cock," Brenda said, in a sighing, rather wistful tone.
"Yeah," Roz agreed.
They went to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Once again Brenda awoke in a strange bed in a strange room in a strange house, and once again she had to he there awhile, going through a sort of personal mental orientation exercise. Once again she was in bed with someone else, an almost-stranger with whom she had shared sex. But this time it was not a man.
She lay there and thought about it. She could feel the warmth of Roz's soft feminine body beside her, pressing her own lithe sexiness here and there, at hip and calf and shoulder.
Half-rising, smiling, she gazed at herself in the mirror. She smiled again, knowing what a man's description of her would be: a good-looking nek-kid redhead with good tits. She palmed those good tits, played a bit with those good tits, fingered the nipples a bit until a new flicker of warmth rose inside her.
She winked at herself.
Then she looked down at her bedmate.
Roz's eyes were open and she was lying there looking up at Brenda. Her mouth widened in a slow, lazy grin. She too winked, letting the girl know she'd been watching her. Brenda sighed.
"Need help?" Roz asked.
Brenda blinked, almost frowned, then looked down. She'd forgotten. She was still fondling her swollen-sided, pointed-tipped milkwagons. She started to move her hands. She felt embarrassed. But only for a moment. Then she sighed and lifted her lovely bare shoulders slightly, in the hint of a shrug.
Deliberately, she wrapped her own slim-fingered hands around her plump titties and pulled at them, squeezing and tugging�with gentleness. Feeling nicely wicked, she entertained the watching blonde arid titillated them both by playing with her own fat knockers. She fondled them with both hands, pressing them together, mashing and massaging them and tweaking the eager uplifted crests.
Then she answered Roz's question. "Yes."
Roz grinned. "Took you long enough to decide," she said, reaching up to slide her warm hands over the succulently contoured flesh of the other woman's naked tits.
A shiver of sensuous promise ran through Brenda's body. She let her head sag back. Closing her eyes, she concentrated only on feeling. She held her impatient bosom from beneath, raising the rose-budded globe-shapes, while Roz playfully teased the stiffening and lengthening tips. She rubbed the thick pink buds with her fingertips.
Roz's hand slid into the other woman's crotch. Lowering her head with a sigh, Brenda gazed down at her with a sensuous smile of enjoyment and expectation. Softly, gently, Roz fingered her swollen nipples and stroked her pussy. Then she ran a finger into the moistening slit.
Brenda gasped and jerked convulsively in sudden delight. Abruptly quite unable to control herself, she hunched hard to fuck the slash of her vaulted crotch on the other woman's finger.
Sliding another finger easily into the soft sliding slot, Roz wiggled both entrenched digits about in the slicking juiciness she was stirring up. Brenda quivered and emitted a series of "unh-uhl" sounds. Her body jerked on the bed, forcing both fingers deep into the tight-clenching hole of her loins. She moaned and. gasped, thrusting herself strongly along that double-fingered probe her body loved and needed.
Suddenly Roz's hands were still. Brenda's sighing moans became plaintive.
"I want to fuck you," Roz said, very quietly.
"Oh God I wish you could!" Brenda jerked, humming and cooing, floundering as she gasped and flailed about in the helpless throes of sexual excitation.
Roz chuckled, a pleased sound with a strong overtone of salacious delight. "Just you wait, darling!"
Then she jammed her fingers in, hard, so hard that Brenda grunted and opened her legs still wider and flopped backward onto the bed with her naked tits dancing loosely. She grunted again when Roz whipped the juice-coated fingers out of that warm, tender canyon between her thighs.
Roz left the bed.
Brenda lay there sighing and twitching, playing with herself. She heard the jingle of buckles. She turned her head. Her eyes widened. Roz was standing beside the bed, naked... except for the dildo.
It had not occurred to Brenda. The fat black dildo the blonde had worn up her snatch could be turned the other way and strapped on in the same manner! Roz had done so now. Brenda stared at the hard, ebony length of cock-substitute straining out from the other woman's loins.
"Oh... oh, Roz... it... you... REALLY?"
Roz giggled. "Get your knees up and he still and think relaxing thoughts, Brenda. I am going to fuck you!"
Brenda obeyed with a violent quiver. Her hand rose, diffidently, and touched the shining length of hard, black rubber. She stroked it, squeezed it to test its resilience and shivered still again. Her hand fell to the bed at her side and she waited.
Roz bent over to kiss, then tongue the open, red-furred crotch, stoking warm sensuality into the twitching body spread before her in a mouthwatering offering. Her own big naked tits swung down to trail sexily over Brenda's thighs. Roz moved forward to press them warmly against that firm female flesh.
Brenda sighed and wrapped her hand around one throbbing, hanging breast. Her brain spun in a rising insensate delirium. Her blood was beginning to boil with lust. She jerked while Roz ran her tongue fluidly over her cunt. That was nice, but... it was not what Brenda had been threatened with, what she had been promised, the big thick dildo that she at once feared and desired.
Roz did not keep her waiting long. Mounting the bed between the prone redhead's uplifted thighs, she arched her body. She used one hand to guide the stout godemiche that she wore like an obscene black cock ramming forward from her pale belly and her blonde-haired cunt-mound.
Then she stuck the big dildo into Brenda and shoved.
The big hard-rubber tool twisted and tunneled its way into her in a slow, constant-consistent nudge, not hammering but slithering into her itching, burning pussy. She lay with her lower lips fastened in her teeth, afraid to hunch or buck. It kept coming in. Roz's smiling face kept coming down toward hers. Strange she remembered abruptly that Roz was several inches shorter than she, not to mention fleshier, heavier, titsier.
The dildo was just as hard and big inside her as it had looked and felt in her hand. She groaned and clutched the sheet as her cunt spread around it, swallowing it steadily.
Then Roz's big soft white tits were coming down onto her abdomen and belly. Brenda felt their soft, spreading pressure more and more. Roz was still pushing in, still lowering herself. Her heavy breasts formed a cushion between them. Her hands slid up Brenda's sides and she pushed her fingers playfully about in the redhead's armpits.
"You've got it all, darling," she whispered, and lowered her face into the broad valley between Brenda's tits, drawn well apart as she lay on her back.
She sighed and her hands shot up to wrap around the woman lying atop her. Her eyes stared fixedly, bright with lust and well-titillated ardor. She worked her buttocks to wiggle her cunt around on its big impaler. She felt it, against every wall of her inner pussy! It was thick, it was long, and it was strangely, rather refreshingly chilly! Her open mouth dribbled a series of high passionate groans and gasps as she worked her hips and buttocks, actually tormenting herself, teasing herself with the engulfed dildo.
With her full weight on the redhead, Roz ran her cheeks and tongue over the exciting mounds of her firm tits, pressing hard with her jaw to feel the yielding flesh spurt up against the pressure. She wished that she could somehow have feeling in the dildo strapped to her broad hips, wished that, like a man, she could feel it nestled in pulsing pussy heat, deep in that wet, satiny recess behind Brenda's red bush.
But she couldn't feel that. The "cock" she wore was only a piece of dead weight attached to her body. Its presence, though, was exciting. She had a cock. She had it stuck way up inside a supersensitive cuntal mouth, just like her own, splaying open the soft twinned rolls of the labia.
Her chuckle erupted from low in her throat and she half-closed her eyes, bending to kiss one shimmying nipple. She heard the other girl sigh. Her hands slid over the woman fucking her, slipping in the sudden sheen of perspiration that glistened on her.
Roz felt the firm pressure of her breasts, crushed and folded down onto a firm belly. She felt the sleek female thighs between hers, the soft female hands on hers, the thick female nipple between her sucking hps. She began pushing backward, a centimeter at a time, sliding slowly back along the quivering, squirming length of Brenda's body. The dildo eased out and out...
Roz slithered forward again, pushing it back into the soft furry nest it filled so full...
... pulled it slowly back...
... slid it slowly back in...
Then she began imitating a man, fucking. She plunged and pulled and rocked her hips, so that the thick shaft pummeled the moaning redhead steadily. It impaled the sexy haven of her belly in long hard stabs that made them both groan and flinch. The substitute prick slithered in and out of slimy, sopping cunt with soft sucking noises.
Hoisting her ass into the air as she half-rose onto her knees, Roz changed the angle of her stroking into the other female body beneath hers.
Brenda was staring up at her gloating face with glazed eyes. Her hands clutched at Roz's body and slithered in her sweat. Her body undulated spasmodically and excitingly, working the dildo about in the luscious flesh it pierced and grinding their bodies together. Little mewling squeals trembled from her open mouth as she felt the deep delving of that inflexible prong of hard rubber.
The pressure and momentum of both their strong thrusts sank it deeply into her cunt with each hard, slapping lunge they made together.
There was an excrescence of hard rubber at the base of the cock reaming her flowing, needy pussy. Like a very firm nipple or a fingertip, it rubbed constantly over her clitoris.
Brenda shuddered, floundered, and screamed aloud as she came. She begged Roz to stop fucking her. Grinning, suddenly holding her down with clamping hands, Roz continued to drive the big rammer in and out of her contracting, coming cunt.
Brenda squealed in pain as her climax-sensitized clit was rubbed, on and on. Tremors of helpless and unwanted ecstasy surged through her. Yet she could not keep still�and naturally her own movements intensified the clit-rubbing, cunt-stabbing pressures.
The sweating blonde drove the thick cock in with hard lunges of her pelvis, enjoying the voluptuous wriggling of the younger woman. She widened both Brenda's eyes and the passage of her pussy with frenzied strokes of her dildo-ornamented thighs. The firm pad holding the dildo against her vulva pressed back into her, rubbed, rubbed...
Without pause, the thick girth of the comeless prick went plowing into the hot tightness of her tormented cunt. Roz's thighs became wet and streaky with the slushy fluid ebbing and seeping from the girl's well-stoked inner furnace. Meanwhile the constant rubbing of her own clit sent waves of rapture washing over her.
She was pouring sweat when she let out a grunting, gasping shout and collapsed onto Brenda. She quivered and twitched in the grip of the implacable paroxysms of her coming. The flood gates let go deep within her fiery vaginal hole and she jerked about on the prone redhead with one long, screaming moan after the other.
It was strange, to Brenda, knowing that her fucker had come�but knowing too, that no streams and jets of semen were shooting up in her to drown the fires deep within her raging cunt.
How strange to have been fucked by a woman!
How delightful�something altogether different!
The thought excited her. She lay there running her hands over Roz's sweaty body. She played with the cheeks of her ass, smoothing and caressing. Her fingers slipped into the warm crease, all slick with sweat. It was an effective lubricant, and Roz jerked and groaned against Brenda's tits as a finger slithered up to titillate her asshole. The lurch sank the dildo a bit deeper. Brenda winced. It was terribly hard and unyielding against her cervix, almost frightening.
Her hands tightened. The excitement of it, the thought of it, was too much! She had to do it!
"Roz! Get off! Get that thing off! Now I want to fuck you!"
Roz quivered. Both women winced and Brenda groaned when the blonde pulled out and the slime-covered dildo plopped out of the cunt it had so thoroughly reamed out. Unlike a depleted cock, the great black shaft stood high over Roz's belly when she rolled over onto her back.
Excitedly, Brenda started unbuckling it. The cock was all slick with pussy-juice and the straps with sweat, but they wiped it on the sheet and both of them buckled it onto Brenda.
Grinning, she strutted around the room, eyeing herself in the mirrors and knowing Roz was watching: watching her big black cock bounce up and down before her as she walked exaggeratedly, jerking her hips in fucking motions.
Brenda returned to the bed.
"Let's ball, baby," she said in the deepest voice she could muster, and she stroked the softer, older woman. Roz sighed and jerked her legs wide apart.
Brenda paused. She remembered how she used to he behind Steve, cuddling up to cup his furry ass in the bowl of her crotch. She remembered the weird thoughts she had had at those times...
She squeezed one of the smooth slopes of Roz's swollen-looking white tits.
"Roll over!" Brenda demanded. "Roll over! I want to ball you from behind! Like�like a couple of dogs!"
Both of them wriggled and shivered in excitement. Roz obediently rolled over, then pushed herself up onto her knees and forearms with her ass high in the air. Brenda delightedly knee-walked up behind that broad, jutting pillow of flesh, an ass that was deeply and perfectly halved to provide either cushions or handholds.
Pushing the dildo down, she guided it in under those lovely asscheeks and nuzzled it against the pursed pinkness of the other woman's pussy hps.
"Put it in," Brenda instructed.
After a little shiver, Roz reached back to slide her fist up the big black dildo. She tugged it into her clutching lovecave. The hps opened up and spread into a strained pink ring around the incoming shaft. Absolutely delighted and highly excited, Brenda shoved and shoved and kept shov- ing until she had firmly entrenched "her cock" in the soft warm folds of the blonde's cunt.
She wagged her hips, crushing Brenda's lower belly and leather-banded crotch with her buttocks. Brenda noted how dark her hands looked against the chalky whiteness of that big sexy ass.
A tremor ran through Brenda's naked, cock-equipped body. Her hands swung outward from the broad female haunches, slapped back onto them.
"Boy," she murmured excitedly, "it must be great to be a man!"
And she started fucking, like a man.
Roz groaned and lurched before the driving attack of the hard-rubber penis into her open vaginal slice. She was bobbing her buttocks wildly, working her feverish cunt about the driving shaft frenziedly. Brenda surged against her bobbling buttocks, sounding her cuntal depths with passionate vigor.
Roz's big dangling teardrops of tits swung about beneath her and slapped together, making wet sounds because of their coating of sweat. Behind her, Brenda's full hanging knockers were jumping up and down, wobbling from side to side.
She closed her eyes and pretended she was a man, fucking.
She fancied that she could feel the pressure of Roz's elastic inner flesh all around her engorged tool. She hunched to send it swooping in and out in and out in and out. She imagined the feeling: her spearing cock gripped by firm cuntlips and resilient inner membranes in a tight clamping that urged even harder surges into her wet-walled pussy.
Her balls, she was sure, would be aching with an unbearable tension. All full of semen, boiling, seething, bubbling semen to shoot�she jerked in a violent series of shudders. God, oh God but this was exciting! Fucking, fucking, slamming her ass forward and back, driving her cock in and out, pounding the outside of Roz's ass and the inside of her cunt!
She could hear the other woman, groaning, drawing in her breaths in quick, shuddering inhalations, loving the feel of Brenda's broad penis pumping her pussy and the slap-slap of her inflated scrotum against her flesh...
Two women, kneeling naked and tits-jumping and ass-bobbing on a bed, fucking like a pair of dogs, one fucking the other with sexy jerks and undulations of her ass, driving a mansize poker of hard, black rubber in and out of flaming pussy.
Roz had to reach back between her flopping, swinging tits to get at her clitoris. She rubbed it, then let her hand drop and just knelt there gasping. To hell with her cilt. To hell with coming. She just grooved on being balled by a cock that would never get tired.
Behind her, Brenda squirmed and sighed as the inner surface of the dildo's pad, soft but very firm leather, rubbed her own pulsing clit with every movement she and the other woman made. Passion rose higher and higher in her.
"Good�lord!" Roz suddenly gasped out, after several minutes of steady dildo-balling. "I-I'm coming!"
That announcement added to Brenda's excitement and she grasped the blonde's asscheeks even more tightly. Her tight buttocks tightened up even more, clenching together as she pummeled Roz's butt with hard swift thrusts of her hips. Her own come was close. How lovely to make it together! She drove hard, seeking that goal.
Roz screamed and had to fight to hold herself up on her knees. Wave after wave of hot climax washed through her churning belly as she hit the peak and her passion throbbed out of her. She squealed and shivered and jerked in the carnal bliss of complete sexual satisfaction.
Behind her, lurching hard, Brenda also came. She tried to drive her big black cockpole all the way up through Roz's cervix and into the cervical canal and along it and into her womb and into her squirming guts.
She could not. Nor was there any way she could shoot hot sticky sperm up into the liquid-saturated folds of Roz's pussy. She could only shove in hard and deep, flattening the blonde's broad ass, while both of them came and screamed and then collapsed, exhausted.
Later, over breakfast, Brenda looked up with a sigh. "Wouldn't it have been fun if the men had been there too," she said quietly, and Roz only smiled and nodded.
"Yeah�what a daisy-chain we could make with a couple of beautiful cocks plus that dildo!"
They laughed. And sighed, and glanced out the windows at the snow.
CHAPTER TEN
"They're here!" Brenda shouted.
"Christ!" Roz called back. "And me naked, too!"
Brenda laughed, watching the men approach the house in the snow. "So what? They'll probably come in as horny as bears after a winter's nap and mint naked women!"
"Oh no�I want to be in something sexy!"
"They're not alone," Brenda announced. "They've got somebody with them�two somebodies!"
"Who? Who?"
"A handsome young cat, lots of sideburns but clean-shaven, all dressed up and wearing a straight hat. Shorter than Paul. Dark blond hair. Young executive type. The other guy's big, I mean like big, both up and around, you know. Droopy black mustache. He's dark and�he's wearing a fez, Rozl"
"Clients," Roz called back from the bedroom. "Paul's been doing business with several people in Turkey for years. He's brought home a Turk client, for pete's sake�boy, I'll bet all this snow really puts that guy off!"
"Well, hurry up, here they are," Brenda called, and then she hurried along the hall to open the front door.
The four men stamped in, smiling and huffing, bobbing their heads at her. The hall runner was soon covered with snow from their boots and overshoes. Paul helped the big man out of his coat and handed it to Brenda just as if she were a servant. She hung the camel's hair coat up without a second thought, then Paul's, then the other stranger's. Greg closeted his own coat.
"Where's Roz?" Paul asked, walking into the living room.
"She'll be right here," Brenda promised, aware of the heavy bounce of her unbrassiered breasts and the visible nubbins of her nipples under her knitted orlon sweater. The sweater was white, and she wore a short gold skirt and shining plastic boots, black, that looked like patent leather and rose nearly to her knees.
Roz was there in seconds, smiling as she entered the living room where the others were clustered around the cold fireplace. She wore a slinky purple jumpsuit that caressed her body lovingly. She also wore stockings, without shoes.
Paul introduced them. The big man with the fez�which he did not take off�was Faruk Dulger. He was indeed a Turk, agent for a company Paul traded with over there. The other man, the handsome young one with the blond hair and sexy blue eyes, was Nat Healey, from Paul's import office.
Paul and Brenda brought out brandy while Roz fetched in coffee from the kitchen. All of them laced the steaming coffee with brandy, then drank off the rest of it in their glasses.
Faruk Dulger had not taken his intensely dark eyes off Roz.
"Ahh, yes!" he said in a low tenor, gazing raptly at her. She gave him a small polite smile.
"Good!" Paul enthused. "Roz, Mister Dulger has taken a fancy to you. Show him some more."
Brenda was glad she was sitting down. She stared, spellbound and shaken, while Roz set down her coffee, stood, and ran the zipper of her jumpsuit all the way down from throat to crotch. They could all see that she was naked beneath, except for a black garter belt. It was very sexy against her white belly, a beautiful contrast. She tinned slowly, like a model in a classy dress store.
Then, rather slowly and with definite sensuous care, she took off the thin purple jumpsuit. She turned slowly, displaying her body. The dark toast stockings and black garter belt were her only clothing, now. They only accentuated her body, while concealing nothing.
Faruk watched, licking his lips. Then he turned to beam at Paul. The Turk nodded, once.
"Two hundred," Paul said quietly.
Brenda watched while the Turk nodded again, set down his coffee, and rose to his feet. From the inside pocket of his suit coat he took a long wallet of grained leather. Hardly breathing, Brenda watched the big man hand Paul the money. Then Faruk walked to the denuded blonde and stood gazing down at her.
Roz dropped her eyes. Then she turned and left the room.
Faruk followed.
Brenda sagged slowly back into her chair, staring at Paul Collins. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned�and smiled.
"You�" She put a hand over her breasts. "You SOLD her to him?"
He chuckled. "Not exactly. A sale is permanent. I leased her to him."
She sat there breathing hard, staring. Her eyes swung back and forth across the three men, then returned to Paul, who sat smiling at her.
"What�what kind of man are you?"
Paul got up and crossed the room to stand over her. She sat well back in the chair, gazing up at him. For a long, long time he stared down at her in silence.
Then he answered her question: "A horny one. Come along. I want to fuck you, Brenda." He stepped back to give her room to rise.
She did, but stepped away from him. Again her eyes swept Greg and Nat. Both were watching with fascinated eyes full of anticipation. She wished she had a brassiere on, so that the surging of her breasts wouldn't be so damned sexy.
"No!"
For a long moment she and Paul stood there with their eyes fastened on each other. She was aware of nothing else in the room, only this man with his authoritarian, blatant demands�in front of some stranger from his office!
Then Paul spoke. He said one word. "Nat."
Instantly Nat grabbed Brenda from behind. He pulled both her arms well back and was already bending them up behind her by the time she started to try to jerk away. She winced and gasped in pain; she had moved too late.
Smiling amiably at her, not at all menacingly or what she'd have called villainously, Paul shoved up her soft white sweater and started playing with her tits.
Immediately, predictably, sexual fire shot into her and through her. A cry of shame was choked off in her throat and tears were suddenly forming, threatening to break through and escape her eyes. He was squeezung, playing rough with her tender titties, and already they were throbbing with pain... and feeling wild with desire.
A soft little moan slid up from her throat. It made her so angry, being like this, like a lump of sexual putty to be molded with the greatest of ease. Again she moaned, averting her head in distress and anger at herself and shame with herself.
The man behind her held her arms, and it hurt. Paul's big hands held her breasts tightly, and it hurt. But�now he leaned over and began tonguing the pretty peaks of her tits. Heat waves of unwonted lust began to flow through her body.
Damn it, she thought desperately, in anguish at her own weakness and ever-ready response. Oh damn it, damn it!
She trembled and her throat poured out begging, pleading little moans. Without willing it, she moved; she moved to arch out her chest, thrusting the taut ebullience of her breast into his hps. He sucked it briefly, then moved his mouth to the other tit, dangling free and unencumbered, an enticement-of glossy, luxuriantly molded flesh.
She could feel the swelling of her nipples beneath his fiery tongue. They grew so turgid they actually hurt. And tingled, wanting attention, wanting to be hurt...
She could not help but lean forward with her shoulders. Her stance was partially because Nat was holding both her arms behind her, bent upward just far enough to persuade her not to resist. And partially because she couldn't help offering, proffering, urging her naked jugs to Paul Collins' roughly loving mouth. But the forward bending of her torso also pushed her buttocks backward, and now, through her skirt, she could feel the pressure of Nat Healey's crotch.
She could feel it, the enormous bulge of his fly, the heavy and stiff pressure from inside. It throbbed against her skirt, stretched snugly over the luscious, perfectly-halved little sphere of her firm-fleshed rump. Her ass trembled, which of course served to caress his trousered cock.
"She's wearing too many clothes," Paul said, thumbing her nipples back into her tits like closing up a telescope. "Greg... " Pleasantly helpless, she remained silent and lifeless but for her rippling shudders while she was systematically reduced to absolute nudity-except for her boots. They removed sweater and skirt, under which she wore neither bra nor pants. They decided to leave the boots, after Greg remarked that she looked sexier that way than totally naked.
They talked about her as if she were not there or as if she were no more than a thing, a pleasantly sexy plaything.
She was. She felt that way. It was little less than she had ever wanted to be. There was security in it. She was wanted, she knew that. All her life she had desperately needed to be wanted.
She was powerless not to stand straighter as they looked at her, their eyes wandering hotly over the body they had reduced to a state of absolute lewd nakedness�even more lewd because of the shining boots they had left her, rising to just beneath her knees. Her breathing was erratic, forcing a constant ripple and sway of her large firm tits. They could see the sexy, slightly moist pink of her labia peeping coyly through the glossy red curls of her pelvic bush.
She allowed herself to be handled, stretched on the floor on her back with her head between Nat's thighs, resting lightly on his crotch. He maintained his grip on her arms. But she made no attempt to resist or demur when Paul opened her legs to further expose her red-bushed sexual mound.
She lay there and watched while he undressed.
Her eyes were powerless to ignore the red-headed hugeness of his cock. It sprang up to spear out from his balls, out and up to stand pulsing before him. Then he went to his haunches between her well-parted legs.
Carefully, his fingers parted the sleek mass of clustering hair to expose her pursed cunt. The pink hps were firm-looking, and yet so soft to the touch.
She gasped and sighed when he bent forward to kiss that inviting pink slash. His mouth opened wide to cup the entire mound of her pulsing pussy, and his tongue stabbed and flickered. She trembled. Her breasts heaved like quaking mountains and surged the swollen pink buttons of their nipples.
He bent forward, using his shoulders to keep her thighs at bay while he treated her to the sensuous delight of his tongue, hot and squirming over the smooth, sexy cunt bulging out like a well-filled purse.
She sent out a loud groan when he found her slippery clit. He rolled it under his tongue, again and again, making it thicken and emerge still farther from its secret sheath.
He licked and sucked and tickled her with his tongue, getting it well up into her cunt and feeling her pussy muscles clamp on it. Nat, easing his grip on her arms, began playing softly with her breasts.
She was sighing constantly now, squirming, hunching helplessly to maintain the urgent contact of mouth and vulva. Her ripe, fleshy thighs writhed in the grip of continuous voluptuous tremors.
They roused her like warming up a fine piece of machinery.
Smiling, listening to her moaning steadily and watching her jerk and move her hips in little semicircles, Paul slipped his tongue from her. He withdrew, then slid himself forward. Carefully, he steered the blood-suffused knob of his penis into the hps of that tight, soft slit he had teased open with his mouth.
Her cunt began spreading around his entering cock.
The girl groaned and sighed and worked her hips, feeling herself open up, feeling herself filling up with warm, thick male meat. She lay there without trying to move her arms, pretending they were immobilized, although Nat had released them. Now he was caressing her tits and nipples and armpits with both hands. His thickened tool pulsed against the back of her head.
As slowly as he had come into her, Paul withdrew, letting his congested dick ease regretfully from the luscious trough it had discovered and had only just begun to map out. Drawing it all the way out of her, he bent to kiss the swollen morsel of tit that Nat held up for his lips.
She could not help herself. In a faraway voice, urgent and throaty, she invited him back into her body.
He returned. But this time the entry was different. This time he lunged forward, hard, to sink his hot cock deep into her at a stroke. She cried out and her body tried to convulse. Again Nat proffered one of her fattened nipples; again Paul surrounded it with his warm lips and sucked it titillatingly.
She began squirming and hunching and wriggling, in an intense effort to ensheath the full length of his distended cock in her wet vital canal and to coax him to move in and out and up and down on her half-prone, half-sitting body. He continued sucking her tit, applying more and more pressure. Her body was gripped and shaken in lustful paroxysms. Each breath she drew was expelled as a passionate moan.
Then he began fucking her, hard and fast and deep.
He balled her as though he were angry with her and determined to smash the inner walls of her ever-moistening cunt. Mercilessly he pounded in and out, up and down on the twitching pink and white body, so soft and yielding and yet sex-fired under his.
Her hips heaved, lurching up to sink him even deeper into torrid moistness. Grunting and sighing, she screwed her slithery slit up and down the iron pillar of cock-flesh that impaled her so deeply and satisfyingly.
He pumped hard, rising and falling on her.
His balls slapped into the soft crease of her ass, again and again, as he pistoned in and out of her squirming, perspiring body.
Nat hung onto her jiggling tits and treated them more and more roughly. At last her own hands came alive. She rushed them up to cover his, atop her breasts. But she didn't seek to pull them away from her or to lessen their almost savage forcefulness; she pressed them tightly into her own tortured but sensually steaming flesh.
Between the arms of the great Y of her open legs, Paul continued shoving thick hot meat in and out of her pussy.
The rippling convolutions of her pelvis snugged him to her, sweaty and groaning in complete abandon to lascivious passion. Tingles of rapture seized her and sizzled through the churning guts he seemed trying to rip into with his hard surging thrusts. She could feel the big battering knob of his cock deep up her gaping pussy, ramming at the soft wet walls, and she twisted and clutched at him with her legs.
Moaning, she churned her cock-filled crotch beneath him.
"Dad," Greg said with soft urgency, "I want my dick sucked."
"Just... hold your... horses!" his father grunted, plunging madly and smacking her pelvis with his furious thrusts. "In... a little... while!"
Brenda rolled her eyes. Greg stood there with his clothes on, but his fly was open and his cock was out. It was rigidly erect and it looked even thicker than she had remembered, thicker but just as lengthy. She shivered. Her tongue crept out, pink and moist, and rimmed her hps. He wanted her to suck that turgid bone. He was in need. Poor Greg!
Nat had lifted her head to get his cock out of his pants, too. It throbbed hotly against her cheek. She could not see it. She could only feel its warm, blood-filled pulsing and its thickness. She sighed. Paul continued to saw in and out of her slippery gash and she loved it.
"We don't have to wait, damn it!" Greg said. "If she were on her back on the cocktail table with her head over the end... "
"Greg," she pleaded in a small voice. "Please... just wait�" Suddenly Paul was chuckling. She groaned as he jerked his cock out of her.
She was a totally manipulatable rag doll that they pulled up off the floor and turned. Greg was already clearing the long cocktail table. A saucer broke. Only Nat paid any attention; he shoved the pieces under the couch with his foot. They sat her on the end of the table, then stretched her out on it, on her back.
She was chewing her lips, her eyes closed, knowing she was naked, that her tits were flopping loosely and that her cuntlips were drooling, that she was a lewd, an obscene spectacle, stretched and manipulated and spread this way.
Her buttocks made squeegy noises on the tabletop when they pulled her back along it. She grunted when her head slipped over the end. Now it was hard for her to swallow. Her throat was arched, her head hanging, and her adam's apple felt in danger of piercing the skin of her neck.
Still clothed, Greg was standing above her with his naked dick in his hand. She cried out and jerked when Paul returned his thick meat to her. The bludgeoning crown made her vaginal hps vanish inward as he plunged brutally forward to fill her with inflamed flesh still again.
Greg's erection batted her cheek as he knelt at the end of the table.
He guided it to her mouth, watched it open sexily and willingly, and leaned forward to gain the proper angle.
His pubic hair tickled her nose. She breathed in its musky, sexy male aroma. Now the meaty rosebud of his prong was just at her open mouth, feeling all warm and sticky-soft�and so male.
She sucked it quickly up into her mouth.
She drew in her cheeks to surround his pulsing cock-flesh with the humid membranes of her mouth. He groaned aloud and sighed happily. Her eyes rolled up at him, but she could not see his face as she grinned at him, around her mouthful of him.
Hard, thick cock was running rapidly in and out of her strained slit, tightened by her position on the unyielding tabletop.
More hard, thick cock filled her face. She pumped her hps up and down as far as she could without totally strangling herself. At the same time, she tried to impart movement to her hips.
The strain was terrific. She felt pain in a dozen separate areas. But it was good, too. She was wanted and needed by two men. She was making two men happy. She and her body. That was good. She liked that. It excited her and fanned her own passions still more.
Ignoring the pain, she strained hard to return Paul's strong surging fucking motions into her lusciously soft grotto. Again and again hardened sex- meat ran in and out of her pussy. He raised himself on both hands to watch the shaking and rolling of her pretty breasts, dancing to the rhythm of their mutual surging.
Between those surging hemispheres of titty-flesh he could see his son, and the girl's uptilted chin, and the shank end of Greg's cock. The rest of it was nicely buried in her head. Paul smiled. Father and son night at the ball park had never been like this!
Brenda sucked cock, orally.
Cock fucked Brenda, cuntally.
Greg was moving now, fucking her face, stabbing her mouth with his cock, plunging it in again and again and watching the purse of her hps as he strained and stretched them. The clasping passage of her face thrust him toward a near-ecstatic crescendo of stimulation and need.
He groaned, feeling her slide one soft hand in under the tight, globe-filled sac of his scrotum.
She tickled them gently, caressing and toying with the sperm-filled orbs, making them roll slipperily around inside their hairy bag. His mouth came open and he heard himself sighing in rapture. He smiled, looking down on her unclothed splendor and watching her mouth adore his prick in a priapic rite of worship.
He heard his gasps. He heard the sucking sounds she made with her mouth slurping over his swollen honk. He heard more sucking, squishy wet sounds, his father's cock ramming in and out of her open pussy, all full of love-juice. And too, he could hear his father's rasping breathing. And the air smelled of sex, of cock and cunt and sweat.
Greg raised his eyes. Nat was still messing with her fine bouncy-firm milkwagons. The handsome guy's hairy fingers moved like the tentacles of a big, furry spider over the snowy white flesh. His dark blond head was bent over her other titty, sucking away as if he were getting nourishment out of the silky demiglobe.
While his prong was sweetly sucked, Greg watched the other man's tongue start a journey up and down the valley of her breasts, then up the rounded contours of the white mountains to their summits, where they perked up their thick dark tips. He used his tongue to scoop them into his mouth, one by one.
The girl grunted around Greg's cock as another man began suckling her swollen nipples as if he wanted to pull them from her.
Greg moved his gaze back to himself and his darling cocksucker.
He smiled down at the big powerful cock he had wedged between her hps and deep into her clasping face. She sent constant warm thrills jumping through him with her sucking, nibbling mouth. She wasn't pulling hard, trying to suck him off; she was playing orally with his prick, loving it tenderly and with high delight.
Once again he raised his eyes to look down her supine body, this time at his father.
Paul Collins' face was red. He screwed the girl with surging, butt-tensing lunges that plunged his poker-stiff bone all the way in to her cervix. He was shagging her hard, plunging fast and deep and stuffing the pulsating pink folds of her pussy's mouth back down its throat Again and again he slammed his straining peg into her. All the way to the hairs, drilling for her womb itself.
Greg's smile broadened. He watched his father's eyes start to bulge. His mouth gasped even more breathlessly. Then the big man went stiff. Greg could see him straining hard, shoving himself double, triple-deep. A shudder coursed down his back.
He cried out triumphantly as his cock went off like a Howitzer.
A hot stream went rushing into her slippery cunt as he shot his burning load with gasping joy.
Supremely excited by the long manipulation of her breasts, the steady reaming out of her pussy passage and now the sweet mouthful of masculinity she mouthed, Brenda blew loose under the final catalyst of his spurting semen. She too came, trembling violently and pouring sweat.
Moments later Paul lay on his back on the floor, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling with eyes like glass.
Greg reached down to fasten his hands around Brenda's short-haired head. He groaned in sudden pain as he lifted, his cock forcing its way out of her mouth and abrading its sensitive surfaces over her teeth. Then he had pulled and turned her into a sitting position on the low cocktail table.
She had to tuck her legs back because of the table's lack of height. She was groaning and shivering, sitting limply. Nat was behind her again, still involved in his apparent breast-fetishism. Her spraddle-legged sitting stance forced the delicate little flanges framing her belly's well-fucked hollow apart, opening her up into a full red mouth that drooled Paul's milky semen.
She sat dully, waiting...
With his glistening cock still standing high and rampant, Greg stepped before her. Her mouth was already open. He slipped the crown of his meat between the wet warmth of her hps. Her tongue came alive automatically to lick the swollen glans as it slid again into her face.
"Wait�I've just come�uhl" she gasped, for he had grasped her hair, on either side of her sweet cocksucking face, and thrust hard. The knob of his prick felt huge, prodding at her throat.
He stood there before the seated redhead and fucked her contorted face with short bayonet stabs of his hips and massive, long weapon. He was gripping her head with both hands, groaning and writhing as he pushed his groin hard against her face.
Twining pubic hairs tickled her nose.
Inch after inch of hot long cock crammed her face.
Jerking his hips and holding her fast, he treated them both to a hard, fast face-fuck.
"Jesus," Nat groaned. He was squeezing her tits hard, his fingers digging into the resilient flesh. She certainly didn't seem in the least put off.
Greg looked past the sucking woman, down at Nat. Their eyes met. Nat's lips moved. With sign language, he expressed his need and his desire. Then he indicated his plan, and Greg smiled and nodded.
The girl groaned when Greg began pulling her forward. He backed up, keeping her mouth around his prick but making her lean more and more forward until the twin cheeks of her soft white ass were lifting from the table-top. Still he tugged. Now Nat was clasping her buttocks from behind, pressuring her forward.
With another groan and a wild jumping of her naked tits, she went to her hands and knees on the floor, her mouth still enwrapping his cock like a fish gaffed in the mouth. Squatting, he continued to fuck her face. Behind her, Nat dragged the cocktail table out of his way.
Then he too bent, actually straddling the outermost curves of her buttocks with his hands on her waist.
She gasped and nearly strangled herself on Greg's meaty prick; the other man's long-denied bar of rigid and burning flesh steamed into her cum-slick cunt from behind.
"Hunnnnh!" she grunted.
But her groan was not of pain. She hunched backward, grinding her butt into his crotch in a squirming effort to satisfy die burning lust rising anew in the cleft between her open legs.
The lovely hard prod of another stranger ran up her unsated cunt.
He began putting it to her with long, jarring strokes, followed by slow, teasing withdrawals that were just as long. He squatted more and more until he was partially seated on her out-thrust asscheeks, with his tool plugged into the wet socket below those jutting pads of rump-flesh.
She jerked and heaved before him, giving full play to the rounded cheeks of that squirmy ass. Her cunt nipped him excitingly, even after the long reaming out Paul had given it.
Her burning pussy seemed aflame. It felt consumed with a passionate desire for a healthy blast of seminal balm to soothe its steaming inner membranes. Her mouth was crammed full of bloated dick. Her cunt was crammed, too, but not full enough.
She pumped her body back, loving the way the strange man from Paul's office held her with both hands on her quivering asscheeks while his cock beat an insistent rhythm of passion into her cunt.
She moaned aloud when Greg released her head. Her head lurched after his retreating hard-on. But he stepped back, dragging the saliva-gleaming meat out of her mouth. She licked her lips, preparing herself swiftly for him to send it racing back into her face. But he did not. Instead, he took the base of his bulging, deep-flushed tool in one hand�and commenced slapping her face with its bloated head!
She whined and whimpered and tried to capture it with her mouth.
He slapped her cheek, her chin, her lips, her left cheek and then the right with his tool, sexily belting her with spit-wet cock.
Nat dragged her back and up. He kept his prick up her cunt from behind as he seated himself on the edge of the cocktail table. Now she sat astride his thighs, widely expanded. His cock stood straight up inside her angrily-red pussy.
She watched Greg step close, still again. His meat bobbed and throbbed just at the level of her face. She rolled her eyes up to meet his. He stared down at her. She opened her mouth, or perhaps she did not; perhaps it dropped open of its own accord. It unhinged slowly, letting him watch the sexy invitation.
He shoved his cock into her head's hollow and eased it in and out, very slowly, ordering her to hold her mouth wide open without sucking. That way she merely sat there, with Nat jigging her slightly up and down on his lust-pole, while Greg slid his in and out of the open hole of her face. She was fucked at top and bottom in simultaneous probing of mouth and cunt.
"Stand up, Nat," Greg said, hunching and making her gag.
"If I�stand... up," Nat grunted, hunching upward, "I'll... come out... of her!"
"OK," Greg said. "It's a good warm mouth, and it's a shame for you to miss out on it!" he explained swiftly. Hearing, Brenda sighed and tears came into her eyes. She was willing, that was the trouble. They were just using her�but she was so willing!
The two men raised her to her feet. She moaned when Nat's meat sucked out of her still-needy hole. Greg stepped behind her while Nat walked around before her. Greg pulled her down. Her cunt spread willingly before the intrusion of its third lust-hard cock. Her buttocks brushed the hot skin of her third fucker. She sat.
The smallish prick before her face glistened brightly. She could smell male come and her own pussy's depths on it. It was coated and slimy with the juices of her vagina, and with Paul's semen. She sighed. Then she opened her mouth to let it come into her face.
It came. It tasted lovely. She sucked it.
Bracing her feet and placing her hands on her thighs just above her knees, she found a way to move. By leaning forward, she could lift herself up, sliding Greg's cock halfway out of her pussy and cramming Nat's smaller organ halfway down her throat. Then she sank back and down. That way her cunt slid down Greg's poker and sucked it relentlessly into her quaking body, while Nat's prick came nearly out of her face and gave her a chance to suck up another breath. Then she held it while she rose again...
Sit-standing, her legs ever bent and her calves twitching with strain, Brenda fucked herself at both ends.
Inflamed meat slithered up and down between her overheated pussy lips.
Torrid meat slithered in and out of the straining lips of her mouth.
Closing her eyes, she blotted out everything but sensory pleasure. She fucked herself, and she enjoyed. When Greg reached around to pinch her nipples, she came, all of a sudden, surprising herself.
Waves of relaxing sensuousness rolled through her, drowning her in the joy of climax. Ripples of pleasure flowed through her cunt and up into her belly. She sighed, cum and sweat flowing together.
Then she jerked and twitched and groaned as though she were undergoing exquisite torture.
"Jesus!" Nat gasped out.
Suddenly his prick was bigger, thicker, swelling so that it depressed her tongue like a doctors spatula. Then, jerking as he shuddered and groaned, he went off. Warm, milky sperm came creaming onto her tongue and over her teeth. It kept coming until, straining, she had to gulp and swallow.
His cock emptied itself and began shrinking. It slithered slowly and weakly out between her still pumping hps. Then it sucked out and swung back to his body. She sat there proudly with cum and saliva combining to drool out of the corners of her long-fucked mouth.
It gave her an inwardly-smiling feeling of satisfaction to see that his prick hung against his pants, and to know that it would leave a stain there, even when the semen and spit dried. Served him right, she mused, to be so callous as to fuck her face and cunt without even taking off his pants!
He sat down suddenly on the floor and sat there sighing, while he looked down at his wilted prick.
"Uh!"
Her gasp was one of surprise. Greg was lifting her, forcing her onto the floor again, on her hands and knees. His cock slid out momentarily, but plunged back into her again with a wet slurping sound.
On hands and knees, she was now able to concentrate all her mental and physical attentions on only one cock. Two others she had drained, and she had come beautifully twice, and now she set about sucking off this one too, up her foaming pussy.
His hairy crotch slapped her outfitting asscheeks. His heavy, long pole of sexual flesh swept in and out of the deep, warm cleft between her thighs with constant wet noises. With her kneeling so that her vulva was offered hindward like that of a bitch in heat, he hunched her hard like a rutting dog determined to run his long organ up her cunt and through her belly and into her throat and out her mouth.
Bending over farther, she could look down and back between the jumping, dangling masses of her tits.
She smiled. She could just see the base of his hairy root, vanishing into the bushy red depths of her willing, slitted hole. It was moving fast, very fast, spattering another man's semen over her inner thighs.
Burning with sexual desire and lascivious sensations, she began using her hands and knees against the carpet to rock herself back and forth. Hard and fast, she fucked herself on the big, turgid fuckpole filling her sliding fuckhole. And he shoved and pulled just as hard.
Their combined movements succeeded in driving his stiff prick in again and again, plying through the slotted oval and into the seething caldron beyond.
Their combined motions also succeeded in milking his balls, which he had managed to control for a long, long time. His passion burst within his testicles, and Greg squirted at last. For the third time her sweating, lust-crazed body drank male seed.
The sticky, warm juice of his loins went spurting deep into her guts. She circled her sexy naked ass, caressing his spouting prick until it had ceased and begun to shrink within her. Sighing, she felt his cock slip wetly out of her no-longer thirsty slash.
Damn, Brenda thought.
She slid weakly forward to lie prone on the carpet. Damn! I satisfied them all three�and myself too! Am I ever lucky Paul's so masterful�I'd never have had this experience and done all this wild and marvy stuff if they hadn't made me!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Faruk Dulger returned with Roz, Brenda was whimpering and writhing on the couch, the helpless but not unwilling captive of hands and sexuality that wouldn't quit. Nat and Greg were working hard to rouse both her and themselves to a second bout.
The two sat on either side of her naked body. She held a semi-firm penis in each hand. Nat had a hand sheltered beneath the warmth of her flaring, white buttocks, although there was no way to see the finger he had buried up the elastic channel of her rectum, to the knuckle. Greg, too, was hand-impaling her, although in his case two of his fingers were slithering around inside her body's intimate aperture. His hand moved too, steadily. Sliding his fingers in and out, in and out of the flaccid, deep red gash of her open-mouthed cunt.
Dulger's first glance at that finger-filled hole told him that it had been well fucked. Judging from the distended slit and the un-erect state of the cocks of both men, it was safe to assume that each of them had balled the softly-moaning redhead. Now, in addition to fingering her internally, each of them was working away at her handsomely jutting tits with mouth and hand.
She appeared to be in a daze of sensuality.
"You are pleased?" Paul Collins asked. He was smoking, having changed into a maroon robe that fell past his ankles.
Faruk Dulger smiled. "Most pleased," he said, beaming at Roz. "She is a marvelous woman."
She stood there with her head bowed and her blonde hair streaming loosely down. She wore a sky-colored robe of what looked like shining raw silk. It was gathered into many creases at the waist, where it was rope-belted, very tightly.
Paul nodded and he too beamed at the woman who pleased them both. His woman. His voice was no more than casual when he asked, "You fucked her?"
The Turk shook his head and the little tassel of his fez swung in the air, snapping against Roz's impassive face. "I never fuck what I whip," he said.
"Hm. Greg, Nat... and you Brenda: wake up! There's something to be seen." Paul waited while the three on the couch looked up, blinking. "Roz, show us, please."
Nodding, Roz raised her hands to the slightly overlapped front of her robe. She parted it to show her naked breasts.
Brenda gasped. A shudder ran through her. Roz's breasts! Faruk's whip had left its clear marks on the big tits, in angry red streaks over the soft white skin. The dark lines marked her bulging tits like the tracings of a roadmap seen through a sheet of tracing paper.
Paul nodded and gestured with the cigarette. Releasing the two halves of her robe's bodice, Roz turned around. Now her hands came back to lift her long, pale blue skirt, all the way up her rounded calves and the snowy, fleshy thighs. Then higher, to reveal the vibrant voluptuousness of her asscheeks, near-round balls that looked distended to full bloom.
They, too, had been whipped.
The lash had marred the satiny perfection of her ass with red stripes. Obviously, Faruk was both meticulous and an expert. Shivering, Brenda could easily count the stripes. Each of the eight was neatly laid on, one rising above the other so that the blonde's rear cheeks were perfectly barred, horizontally. Then she could see that he had laid on two more, one from each side of the body Brenda was sure had been writhing and sweating and shivering in pain. And... orgasm?
The final two lashes crossed all the others, forming a large X that slanted across both cheeks. There were swollen, welted spots where they crossed the horizontal weals, and Brenda wondered that streams of claret were not running down the backs of Roz's legs.
Brenda shivered again. She squinted and craned her neck, but she saw no blood. That, she was sure, was Faruk's choice. Seeing the craftsman's perfection of the whipping he had administered made her believe that he could have brought jets of warm blood pouring down the white ovals of that scarified ass, had he chosen to do so.
Faruk was smiling.
"The strokes," he said, "were laid on very slowly, with long intervals between. She achieved her orgasm beautifully. Marvelous woman," he repeated.
"I can't understand how you resisted emptying yourself into her," Paul said, building the Turk's ego.
Faruk, smiling, shrugged and repeated: "I nev- er fuck what I whip." He turned his dark eyes and mustachioed face on Brenda. She shrank back, staring at him like a rabbit at a serpent. "This one?" he asked.
Brenda jerked her gaze swiftly to Paul, putting on a look of piteous appeal. But beginning sexual surges rippled through her...
Paul shrugged without speaking or seeming to pay the least attention to her appealing glance.
"I should like to use her backside," Faruk said quietly, studying the seated, naked redhead. "Obviously her other hollow has been well used during my absence."
Nat made the girl squirm, wiggling his finger around in her clenching little anal track. "He wants to poke you here," he whispered, and she trembled. She tried to lean forward to ease the pressure of his upward-impaling finger. But both he and Greg held her firmly in place.
The stiff finger continued wiggling, well up inside her tight, sweltering asshole.
She remembered that she had contained a cock there, once in her life. And received its seminal enema. The nameless man on the train who had rescued her from the fat pig... and had then taken his own reward.
I must be dreaming, Brenda thought. This whole weekend is surely a dream!
But she knew she wasn't. She was merely discovering the varieties of rape. And "rape."
"That," Paul was saying matter-of-factly in his quiet voice, "will require an additional one hundred dollars American. Payable to her, herself."
"To her?"
Paul nodded. Faruk reached again into his coat.
Brenda shivered. And she had thought Paxil had whored her! Now he was literally doing so, for money was to be paid for her body! But�he didn't own her! She began objecting, but weakly, grunting as Nat and Greg interfered with her protests by running their fingers in and out and around and around in her body's close-set orifices. With his other hand, each man also pinched one of her nipples.
She watched Faruk take out the money, look at Paul, then at her, and place it on the cocktail table. It was quite clear, otherwise; even the sweat had evaporated.
Greg moved his arm rapidly. She twitched away, with a little moan, from the pressure of the stiff twinned fingers that speared like a long thin cock into the slippery-smooth mouth of her suddenly flooded chasm.
At the same time, Nat took his hand from her breast and laid it on her back. Her naked tits swung softly out when he pressed her forward.
The finger of his other hand was slithering about, digging and spearing up her asshole.
She concentrated, very hard, on relaxing that tight-muscled hole.
As usual, force would not be necessary. She was already resigned, ready to be fucked up the back by another stranger, the burly Turk.
Blinking, she looked up.
He stood directly before her. He had taken out his prick. She was surprised to see that it was circumcised; she knew nothing about the customs or the religions of Turkey. It was a handsome organ, curved out and slightly back like a scimitar, but crowned with a big, dark knob rather than a point. The interlocking tracery of the veins stood out on the underside which, since he was in high erection, was the portion of Turkish meat she was looking at.
He pressed his cock down with one hand. Now she was looking directly at the tip. It was sliced by a thin and reddish slit. Already there was a pearl-like droplet of clear moisture there. It drew her eyes... it drew her tongue out to rim sexily over her hps... it drew her head, slowly, so slow-ly...
Four men and a whipped woman stared as Brenda leaned forward and flicked out her tongue to catch that drop of lubrication from the end of the thick, dark penis standing before her.
Then, in the same way, as though she were in hypnosis and totally unable to resist the call of coek, she kissed the end of the throbbing shaft and nibbled away at the swollen knob of that pounding erection.
He bent slightly forward to feel, then squeeze her big, soft-skinned breasts while her head bobbed and she nibbled and licked his prick. The others saw him tremble at the feel of her tongue flicking over the silky-skinned hard flesh. His entire cock-length lurched and throbbed. Releasing her naked breasts, he felt their lovely pressures, almost hard, batting his thighs with soft slapping noises.
"You are beautiful," the big Turk said, "and what you do is beautiful. Do you like to be whipped?"
Pulling her head slightly back from his prong, she shook it in silence. No. She did not like to be whipped. She supposed. She had never been whipped. But she would not tell him that.
"But you love cock, and you will love it sliding up your soft hot back."
She shivered violently, as though caught in a sudden icy blast of wind.
Faruk chuckled. Her pretty, cunt-pink tongue danced a sexy jig over the length of sheer male sexuality and need that she licked. To the others who watched, her tongue seemed to be tracing out sexy little designs across the knobby head of his Turkish tool and down, down, down the shaft, to lick over the heavy globe-shapes beneath. They were almost invisible beneath a thick mat of intensely black hair that was tightly curled.
He stood there shivering, watching her lick his balls and the big fat head of his fleshy rod.
More and more, she warmed to her self-appointed task. Holding his heavy scrotum firmly but gently, she caressed the nuts inside with her fingertips in a sweet, erotic onslaught that soon had him yearning for more�and that brought up the cocks of the other three men, even as they watched.
All over the room, male meat stiffened to throbbing, red rigidity. Sperm felt as if it was boiling in its reservoir balls.
"How much can you take?" Faruk asked.
She accepted that challenge. Slowly, very slowly, she engulfed the head of his pounding dick in her mouth. He pushed, easing his feet forward. She accepted that and took it deeply in the face. Her tongue and busy fingers meanwhile made love to the hard shaft and the nuts tightening up beneath its bushy root.
Her mouth encompassed inch after inch of dark, bloated flesh. She rolled her eyes proudly up at him and he stroked her cheek with one hand. A large ring flashed on it. She sighed and sucked.
Faruk's eyes met those of Nat Healey. "That hand beneath her�do you have a finger in her?"
Nat nodded.
"Take it out, please," Dulger said, and glanced at Greg.
Brenda's little groan emerged muffled by her total mouthful of cock as both men slipped their fingers out of her vaginal and anal holes.
"Do not suck," Faruk instructed. "Just hold it there, inside your pretty face, and let me feel your tongue."
She held it there inside her mouth and let him feel her tongue. She moved it as much as she possibly could, although there was now little room inside her mouth. His big prong had swollen even more. She began to be nervous about taking this big poker-stiff root up her butt. It was no small cock, but felt like a smooth corncob lodged in her face. Her anus had been clenching tightly, ever since the departure of Nat's finger. Now she returned her mind to that strong sphincter. She thought about relaxing it until it would be completely flaccid and capable of taking seven or so inches of very thick Turkish cock.
Her mouth was stretched with it already. She was filled with his virile, meaty prong. Her hps had become a stretched, circular ring of rosy flesh. Less than a third of its length protruded lewdly from her face. She felt she had done a good job of taking it in the head, and she was justifiably proud.
His hands were gentle, moving over the short red hair at her temples. He knew women, she mused. He knew how to be firm, and yet he was also aware of the feminine�perhaps the human-need for gentleness.
"Hold your mouth very wide now," he bade her, "while I slide out. I do not want to feel teeth."
She tried to crack her jaws. He eased it out of her face. She was sure he did not feel teeth.
"The son of your master is in need," Faruk now told her, standing there with his cock standing almost straight up before him. He nodded at Greg, beside her on the couch. "You will please stand up, turn, and bend over with your hands on his upper thighs. Hang on�and perhaps you will be able to give him your excellent mouth." He paused, fixing her with his dark eyes. Then he said firmly, "While I enjoy your body in the manner of the Bulgars."
Bulgars, she thought. Was that the source of the word for ass-fuckery, the word most often used by the British: buggery? She didn't know. She didn't really care. She knew and cared only that she was nervous about the initial entry of that great hard cock of his, but that she would do as he said, at once. At once: while his massy meat was still well-wetted with saliva!
She rose quickly, turned, and bent over Greg with her hands on his thighs, just where they joined his trunk. His cock stood high below her face. She bent her head a little forward, feeling her hair brush down the front of his body; he still wore his shirt, although he'd stripped off his pants.
She slid her lips very, very slowly down over the nut that crowned his long, hard ramrod.
At the same time she continued to concentrate on relaxing her anal sphincter.
She could not see Paul step up to Roz, run his hand up under her long-skirted robe, and busy himself at her rear. She heard the blonde's gasp, but she did not know that it was brought about by Paul's piercing her with two fingers up the rectum and three between the soft hps of her pussy.
Both Paul and Roz, like Faruk, were gazing at Brenda's upturned ass.
It was a very pretty rump. Her back was not fleshy, and the center hollow was very shallow, with the many tiny bones of her vertebrae visible all the way down to where the smooth shelf began, above her buttocks. A clearly-defined dimple pointed the way down to each of them, the two perfect halves of her sexy if not quite voluptuous ass. The buttocks were white, beautifully bare, and convulsively quivering as they awaited the piercing of their dividing valley by hot, throbbing meat.
Her mouth captured and contained the knob of Greg's standing prick. But she held it motionless between unmoving lips, feeling the Turk's large and black-haired hands on her backside.
His hands parted the long, glowing cheeks. He eased closer and closer with his turgid cock. Her anus tightened visibly in the deep crease between the cheeks he split apart. It squeezed together as she nervously awaited the ravishment of her asshole.
Faruk began pushing.
"Ah-Ahhhhhmmm," she breathed around Greg's cockhead.
Faruk pushed. She groaned and tensed her arms, holding herself steady. Her head rose a little, but she did not let that other prick's head escape her mouth. Faruk pushed.
She felt it, coming and coming, in and in, pushing and pushing, until the big hot head was slowly opening her, forcing her to spread wide, feeling sharp-edged rather than all smooth and rounded, penetrating her cringing anus and she sank down so low to take it that she felt Greg's legs against her bare, tautening nipples.
She gasped and clutched the seated man's thighs. She concentrated with every nerve and sinew in her body, on relaxing, on being loose, on her desire to let the foreigner in and suck up his hard thick tool until it was buried deep in her not-quite-virginal ass.
Her mouth dropped open. The great pole of lust drilled up her ass as if it had, pulsing and throbbing and stirring her bowels into a sensual maelstrom. Her rump was high in the air, as high as she could thrust it now, up to receive his incoming meat.
Greg was fust reaching for her head when she snapped it up. She emitted a grunting squeal, feeling thick cock dip deeper and deeper into her back passage, and deeper still.
Her nostrils quivered and her dangling tits swung and bounced. They felt thick and heavy and long in their naked suspension beneath her.
The feel of that big thing oozing up her ass brought warmth to her empty cunt until the hanging lips drooled. His hands held the unprotected demiglobes of her rump firmly, keeping them well parted and open. His cock sank steadily into her. It disappeared with agonizing, titillating, maddening slowness into slippery tight warmth, grinding in, inflexible and huge and dominating, total master of her ass, her body, of her mind.
He was in.
His hairy crotch was jammed against her asscheeks.
His hard meat had vanished to the balls in her body's tightest channel. He held it there, huge and hot inside her, his cock way up her asshole, and he bent forward to reach around her.
She felt his hands on the softness of her lower belly, felt his fingers groping over her cuntlips and then into the steaming slit they framed. Balancing on one forearm, she reached back under herself to touch his balls. Her fingers contacted the very base of his cock, thick and thickly haired, entrenched in her ass and now, as he began to move, slipping in and out of her hot wet crowded passage.
She clung to it. But she had to release it to maintain her balance when he pulled far back and then rammed in again, deeply up her asshole, in a drive so fierce it almost knocked her over. The top of her head ground into Greg's belly.
She accepted that drive, recovered from it gasping, and ground her body back against the big Turk's. She was writhing in surging passion as his cock rammed steadily in and out of her tight anal depths.
She squealed, bucked madly, jerking and shuddering in delight. She was aware that her cunt was creaming and flowing. His fingers slithered over its soft hps.
She felt every inch of his big prick as it pumped in and out of the tightness of her grasping anus and far along her rectum.
Her belly strained and tightened. Her ass was being treated like a cunt, fucked like a tight cunt, just as hard and deep. And it was willing, loose and open, swallowing the entire cockshaft every time it jammed in and pulled out.
Swollen penis raced in and out of her asshole, tunneling with increasing ease into its hot, humid confines.
She fucked back just as strongly, groaning and gasping for each breath. Her tongue touched Greg's cock, but she was unable to lick it. Remembering him and his need, she ran her mouth completely down over the head of his standing dick and smiled around it when she heard his surprised groan of pleasure.
Thick thighs slammed into her quivering round buttocks again and again. Shiny, wet with sweat and her inner fluids, his heavy tool rammed and rammed up her squirming ass. His balls swung to rap her soft, parted cuntlips. They dangled, abandoned and oozing hopefully beneath her arched body.
Nat was playing with himself without even knowing it. The room was filled with the sound of slapped flesh and juicing cock into wet hole and the aroma of crotch and come and sweat. He watched the big dark Turk plow a new furrow between the redhead's sexy asscheeks. Nat reached over and began fondling one of her knockers. She sighed and he could see her saliva trickling down Greg's tall shank.
Nat frowned. Damn it�what was the sexy whore's name, anyhow?
Faruk eased up, leaving his cock buried up in her ass, while he leaned around her to grasp and squeeze her dangling, hard-tipped tits. He pulled at them, ignoring Nat's hand, which withdrew. The American redhead made little cooing sounds and gloried in it, lying forward with her head cradled in the young man's crotch and a couple of inches of his staff up the hollow of her face.
Then thumbs and fingers bit into her nipples and she jerked her mouth off Greg's long organ and cried out at the top of her healthy lungs.
Chuckling, Faruk immediately began treating her hanging tits like the most valuable of treasures.
Her heart beat faster. Her sweat rose and flowed. Straightening a bit, he fucked hard, staring down at the white, uplifted asscheeks he punched between. He felt his balls grow tighter and tighter, building and building to a hard spurting release that would fill her bowels with his semen.
She felt his hands on her quivering, terribly heavy breasts, like great flesh-covered stones dragging down at her chest. She felt his big thick cock throbbing inside her hot hungry ass. She felt the prickle of his dense pubic hair against the backs of her thighs.
First she slipped her mouth again over the knob of Greg's hard-on. Then she concentrated on her strong anal muscles. With all her might, she clamped them to grip the slippery stem of the prick that expanded her rectal tunnel.
Then, bucking wildly, madly, the girl began to jerk him off with her asshole.
He groaned loudly.
The long hard shaft lunged deep within her. It prodded her bowels. Then his hands clenched with painful strength around her dangling tits and he lurched and groaned and stiffened and... went off like a cannon.
She felt every drop, every jet of the spurting warm fluid from the flared head of his prick.
She was shocked when, once he was empty, he withdrew from her cum-filled ass, straightened her, turned her, kissed her, and forced her backward and down. She gasped as her strained, still-gaping asshole ran straight down the full length of Greg's cock.
She sat there and stared with huge eyes up at Faruk Dulger, who gazed smiling down at her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nat Healey and Faruk Dulger had left; Paul, Roz, Brenda and Greg had eaten�snacks�and enjoyed first a drink and then two joints.
Then, in the living room, Brenda saw it and picked it up. With Faruk Dulger s five $20 bills in her hand, she stood gazing at Paul Collins.
He smiled. She waited for him to say something. He did not. Perhaps he was waiting for her to speak; she did not.
Then he spoke. "It's time for bed."
"I'll sleep alone," Brenda told him, trying not to sound shaky.
Without raising his voice, he said, "You'll sleep with me or not at all."
"Paul!" Roz cried. She was having trouble: sitting.
He turned to her. "Greg wants you, Roz. Take him upstairs and do as he says. He, ah, watched Faruk... mighty avidly." He smiled. "I think he covets your ass, luv."
Her eyes dilated and she started. "Paul! Greg's... he... that would be... "
"Nothing," he said, waving a hand. "Nothing so wicked as incest, darling. Not really. He's my son, not yours. Good night."
Roz stood there, looking helpless. Her teeth were set in her lower hp. Greg, also, did not move. But he was looking at her. At last, without having glanced at him, Roz turned and headed for the bedroom. Just as silently, Greg followed.
Brenda sank back in a chair with her eyes fixed on Paul. "How... how can you... what kind of creature are you?"
"Male," he said easily, "genus Homo. And horny. Come along, Brenda."
"You arrogant monster! I suppose now you want Dulger's hundred dollars!"
"It's yours. To keep. After all�it was your ass he fucked, not mine."
She shivered in impotent anger. "You�you sure took the money for Roz! And he BEAT her!"
"Yes. Roz is mine. So far, you're only a guest. A very sexy guest who is unable to resist sex. Come along, guest. I want you to shower, after which I'll show you how my mustache feels between your thighs."
She experienced a tightening feeling in the crotch and pounding waves of blood shot through her head. But she sat firm and shook her head.
"I won't budge!"
Paul walked calmly over to her, gazed down at her a moment, and bent. His hands reached out to grasp her lavish, pliant breasts and twist them cruelly. The unbelievable pulchritude of those tits was a challenge, an affront to normal bosoms. He twisted and squeezed. Her arms flexed and jerked as she kept her hands from leaping to his�with difficulty. She wailed in torment and deep humiliation and tears suddenly flowed down her soft cheeks.
Then he shoved his hand into her crotch and played around down there until she was moaning, opening her legs, and hunching in helpless response. He smiled, directly into her eyes.
"You won't budge?" he said, slurping a finger up her hot slushy vault. "Then get out."
"I�it�it's the middle of the NIGHT! It's started to-it's SNOWing!"
He remained bending over her. His thick finger remained ensconced in her snatch. His eyes did not leave hers. He nodded.
"So it is."
For many hour-long seconds she sat there, staring into his eyes. It was as if the two of them were frozen; as if they were carrying out a silent duel with their eyes.
They were. But�did Brenda lose or did she win?
She got up and went to the bedroom with him. His and Roz's enormous bedroom, with the enormous bed. He watched her strip, watched the up-down piston movement of her sleek buttocks as she went into the big bathroom. Slip washed carefully. She used no deodorant, but she could not resist some of Roz's perfume. She used the bottle that was most full, on the assumption that it was the scent Roz used less often. Then she returned to the bedroom.
The weird red glow bathed the room, and she remembered abruptly that she had shared this room and this bed with this man's wife. She shrugged, mentally. So now she would share the room with that woman's husband. While that woman shared another room with this man s son. Brenda sighed. Life wasn't quite what she had thought it was. Men weren't at all what Steve was. And... perhaps she wasn't quite what she had thought she was, either!
She was excited, she knew that. What he had said, what he had promised, that excited her. So did the huge bed and the strange, pale red glow of the room's concealed, rheostat-controlled lights. And so did the sight of the naked body of Paul Collins, lying there on the bed awaiting her.
She went naked to the bed, a little hesitant, now. She needed direction... which he gave, immediately.
"You're a woman who knows how to use her mouth and who uses it well. Do. Bring it up."
His cock was a tired-looking rumple lying there atop his balls, relaxed and flaccid between his open legs. It was a challenge...
Lowering her head to capture the soft but nevertheless bulbous head between her lips, she took it all the way into her liquid mouth. All of it. Every soft inch of his penis.
There she nibbled softly at the base in a slurping, loving way designed to arouse him to a new and turgid strength and give her a mouthful of glistening hard-on, rather than the flaccid peter she began with.
Lying on his back, he put back his elbows to prop himself up into a semi-sitting position. He watched her soft, luscious hps champing, listened to her sucking softly. He felt quivers and tremors leaping through his balls and up into his relaxed cock.
But it was no longer relaxed. It was coining alive. Already it was a much thicker, longer chunk of pulsing meat that throbbed in the full grip of her sexy lips. It twitched before the intoxicating sensation of those soft, feverish hps trailing over its sensitive length. She seemed to have lapsed into sleep, into a dream-state�but in the dream she was sucking cock. Her eyes were shuttered, long lashes lying on her slightly freckled cheeks.
Her hands fondled and tickled his hairy, heavy balls and he felt her fingers teasing his buttocks and the crease between them. And she sucked. And suddenly it was no longer a peter or a penis she held in her sweet, soft lips, but a big, hard cock, gouging into her face with strength and fervor. More and more of the root became visible as it thrust itself out of her mouth in its swelling process.
"Good," he said, reaching out for her. "Now come here�give me tit."
She came up over his body until she was straddling his hips, on her knees, and her breasts swayed over him. Then she bent forward. Her palms came down onto the bed on either side of his head, behind it, and the symmetrical perfection of her tits dangled over his face. He put up his hands to stroke her buttocks, her hips, her waist, up over her ribs, into her armpits, and then down and out over her deliciously trembling tits.
He kissed each of their moist, distended tips and let his tongue waggle over them. She sighed.
He squeezed and kneaded the dangling fruit of her lovely jugs until the crests fattened even more, into long, stiff erections that he sucked and tongued.
A state of sheer salacious torment seized her body. Utterly helpless and adrift in liquid lust, she surged them into his face, looking back and down to watch his mouth loving her hanging titties. Perspiration rose on the steep curves of her twinned bosom.
He licked and sucked for many minutes, meanwhile caressing her with one hand, her ribs and armpits and the soft flutter of her belly and the flare of her hips. He flogged her nipples with his tongue; he teased them with his teeth. She was melting and her breasts felt as if they were inflating like balloons. They began to hurt. It was not a pain-pain; it was a longing, a tightness, a need, a good pain.
"Come on up," he said, sliding his hps off over her nipple.
"Hmm?" She looked back and under, down at him, not understanding.
He smiled. "Move up higher," he said. "I want to taste you."
A swift anticipatory shudder ran through the girl as she complied, quickly.
Delicate tendrils of soft red hair tickled his chin, then his lower lip. He felt the pressure of the bulging mound of her provocative vulva. Now he could see the slash in it, the vibrant softness of her slitted crotch, all soft and pink and moist, an invitation and an enticement.
"Ah�unnnnnghhhhl" she gasped, sighing, as his tongue ran out to trace over the pulpy pink flesh of the lips of her turbulent hollow. Like a bee seeking nectar, he tongued the deeply pink flower between the tops of her thighs.
The slightly salty taste and faintly ocean-smell of her sweet slit pervaded his senses as his mouth wandered all over her wet nest of scarlet pubic fur. She sighed, gazing at the bed's headboard with filmy eyes, enjoying and enjoying. His tongue slithered over her cuntlips, slithered through the fur that framed them, slithered in between them, poked suddenly at the convoluted inner hps, deeply pink and sexily wet and glistening.
Then he set his tongue to work at the task of fattening up her love-button.
The sound she emitted was almost a scream. She shuddered in response to the ecstasy that was coursing through her like a libidinous river. She shivered and groaned, feeling lust build inside her belly into a cauldron of torrid heat. Exquisite thrills rippled through the soft, juicy portals of her slitted vulva as he stroked it with loving tongue.
Her body drew up, trembling. Her kneeling legs pressed his head. The muscles stood out like cord against the satin sheath of her skin. Her stomach rippled and shook uncontrollably beneath her as agonizing joy poured over her and through her like a billow of white flame.
She felt it coming in, slowly. She sighed and shivered, the feeling intensifying, as though she lay on a beach where the tide came slowly in to envelope her in liquid warmth that soothed and caressed as it lapped over her. His tongue licked on, and on...
She succumbed, in a squirming, groaning, twisting release that made her inner vagina clamp like an angry mouth. At the same time it leaked warm, slick juices down over his tongue and hps and into his mouth. She heard him swallowing as she jerked and shuddered in magnificent orgasm.
She could no longer bear the touch of his tongue on her super-sensitized sexual flesh. She moved swiftly to withdraw it from his mouth, then enwrapped him in her arms and snuggled close, wishing she had a yard or so of thick cock up her belly.
Turning her swiftly onto her back, he sat-knelt, resting on his calves, between her open legs. The swollen, silky tip of his cock pulsed against her needy gash. She moaned and hunched.
"Put it in," he said quietly.
He watched her hand come swiftly to his prick, and he shuddered at the loving and lovely touch of her fingers. She tucked it quickly in between her wet pink labes and pulled and pushed. He watched the big knob gradually disappear into the folds of her narrow cuntal hole.
Sighing, her eyes fixed and almost glassy, she pushed her swollen mound of sex up to meet his poling cock. It went in, and in, to fill her up. A long, long sigh of pleasure slid from her hps as she felt her pussy once again filled with the hot, rock-hard maleness it needed.
He knelt there and circled his hips, rubbing his cock around and around inside her, teasing her with it, massaging his thick, bulging meat in the passion-warm depths of her streaming pussy. She squirmed beneath him, hunching to keep herself full of the overpowering surge of the thrumming prong that filled her so beautifully.
Her breasts jiggled, heaving in cadence with her heart and and her upward movements and thrusting their pouting, rosy tips.
Her face was contorted with lascivious joy and her surging hips met every circling penetration of her slippery deeps.
Deliberately teasing and tantalizing her, he pulled back and back. She sighed and screwed up her face in despair as she tried to follow his emerg- ing prick with her body. Then he set his hands on her thighs, stopping her. His thick shaft popped out of her desperate slash and bobbed up to stand high before him, slicked and shining with her cunt juice.
She stared at it. She licked her hps. He crawled forward over her until his buttocks were on her tits. She lifted her head and used one hand to bring the cunt-slick shaft down to her mouth.
Swiftly she tucked the slimy meat into the wet, tight shelter of her face. He trembled with excitement, watching and thinking about her tasting her own pussy. He could hear the liquid sounds her mouth made around his blood-gorged muscle. She was licking it and sucking it as though she couldn't get enough of their combined tastes.
The titsy cushions under his asscheeks grew more and more wet with sweat. They quivered excitedly. He moved, riding them, rolling them under his butt and shoving the spearing pole of his cock into her face. His balls lay on her chin, all swollen with semen and the need to expel it.
He eased his pelvis forward. Lips. Tonguetip. Teeth. Soft curling surface of wet tongue. All caressed him as he slipped farther into her mouth.
He pressed his hands tightly against her cheeks, forcing her mouth into a tighter cocoon about his sexual flesh. She sighed and sucked, hard. Her hands played over his asscheeks.
He gazed down at the shank of his cock emerging from the nearly-round hole formed by her soft lips and smiled, loving the sight and the feel of it, loving the sensation of his ass pillowed on delicate white breasts while he watched his fat cock lovingly sucked and licked.
She sighed and emitted a little groan when he took it away from her.
He backed away, paused to mould and press and roll her mounded white tits, then reached down to guide himself back into her. Once again the big head of his prick pried open the hot moist lips of her loins.
"Ummmmmm!" she hummed, smiling, and her thighs flexed spasmodically as the fleshy weapon sank far into her sheath.
He gathered up her buttocks in his hands and shoved hard, so that the head of his cock was pressed firmly against her cervix.
She squealed aloud and stared up at him with sexually sparkling eyes in which there was the faintest hint of pain�a pain she did not, could not mind.
Then he drew it back, all the way, until the snug ring of muscle forming the mouth of her cunt held only the knobby head in its grasp.
Pausing to smile down at her and wiggle his hips, stretching her labia, he pushed back in� slowly. This time both of them savored the slow engulfment of his sensitive meat in the liquid satin of her inner vaginal flesh. Soft, damp lips wiped all along the shaft as it oozed gently in.
Gripping her tightly, pulling as he pushed, he kept pushing. He pushed it in and in, grinding and making her gasp and jerk her head, until the slippery lips were trying hungrily to close over his swollen bag of balls.
"You... can't... do it," she told him, in a strained voice.
"What?"
She sighed. "Give me more than I can take, more than I want!" She wiggled under him. Her bottom rolled and quivered so that her thighs and loins did, quivering with intoxicating lasciviousness. "Try it!"
He stared down at her a moment.
Then he pulled all the way out, clearing the gaping damp lips completely. She gasped and her eyes flared widely.
He jammed forward, ramming her with his cock as if he were attacking her gated crotch with a battering ram.
Her cunt closed firmly around his cock and their bellies slapped loudly together and she was shoved, on her back, several inches up the bed. But her vulva grabbed him, swallowed his entire prick up with a hungry sucking plop.
She grinned at him.
With a sound like a growl, he began fucking her as hard as he could.
The relentless activity of the mighty shaft stroked and rocked her, feeding her voracious pussy-hole until her hips shook. She panted, super-charged with excited lust. Her eyes told him that he was hurting her a little.
Good. He intended to.
The smart-ass bitch would damned well know she'd been balled, this time!
Mutual desire rose with a fierce pressing need as belly pressed and slapped fervently on sweaty belly and hot cock juiced in and out of her humid slot. His tight-clenched ass pounded up and down. His toes thrust and pushed at the sheet as he forced himself in and in, stabbing her deep up the secret depths of her belly.
"Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "I give up! I take it back! You're KILLING me!"
He grinned and rammed, grabbing her in a hurtful grip to force her tortured sheath up his stabbing, daggering cock.
Then it hit her, in gut-wrenching waves.
She jerked in helpless erotic throes as a gushy climax washed violently over her. Squirming and screaming, she came and came. Her cunt tightened up into a rigid clamp all around the hot shaft of flesh he shoved deep into her, grinding his pelvis triumphantly over hers. The throbbing membranes around his entrenched meat grew sticky and slippery with a sudden rush of warm fluid.
He gave her no relief. His swollen cock jammed again and again into her wide-open cunt, slicking in and out of her, driving into the contracting hole with a mad fury of deep, penetrating, battering thrusts.
He forced his hands under her, parted her soft-skinned balls of asscheeks so violently she moaned and bit her hp, and shoved all eight fingers into the sweaty crack. The middle finger of his right hand found the well-guarded secret slot of her anus. He shoved.
"G-gunnnnhhhhh!" she gasped, jerking her head to and fro as his finger speared ruthlessly up her asshole, forcing its way and making her writhe and go bow-string taut in exquisite agony and ecstasy.
He fucked her asshole and cunt with finger and cock, rubbing them together through the thinly separating softness of her inner fleshy walls. She cried out and jerked and quivered helplessly beneath him, out of control. She was carried away with emotion. He was hurting her: it was wonderful. He was overwhelming her with pleasure: it hurt Her eyes gazed glassily and unseeingly upward while he finger-and-cock-fucked her in long, smooth strokes. A wild, unsatiated lust burned in her and in her staring eyes. Her hands clawed at him as if she'd gone mad.
"Come," she cried and gasped, "come, come, cum in me, O my God, my God, ah, oh, oh, uh-uh-uh-uh�ahl" Squirming wildly in raw lust, he rammed his finger deep and writhed atop the perfect curves of her lithe body while his cock explored the deep hot cave in an intense throbbing ecstasy of demoniac stroking.
Hot semen started boiling and spurting out of him and he kept ramming it to her.
His cum flowed in torrents as he came in a wild delirium of joyous release and he kept ramming her with finger and spouting cock.
Semen splashed and bubbled and puddled in her and he whipped it to a froth inside the hot flooded hole he fucked and fucked.
Drained, his virile shaft shrank within her and he kept trying to fuck her with it. Both of them were covered, drenched in sweat and the smell of it rose in the air, thickly mingled with the odor of his semen.
Then he collapsed utterly and she held him as tightly as she could until both of them sank into a deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the morning, as if determined never to let her know what to expect, he made long, slow, gentle love to her and made very certain she enjoyed a sighing orgasm.
Roz already had breakfast ready when they at last entered the kitchen, and all four of them ate ravenously, indicating that Roz and Greg had screwed with a wildness at least approaching that of Paul's and Brenda's beserk lovemaking last night.
Brenda was washing the dishes when Paul told Greg he was taking her into town with him, and before Brenda knew what was happening, Greg was behind her with her skirt pulled up in his hands and his crotch plastered against her ass and his long prick up her unprepared cunt. His hard hunching brought her pain, grinding her belly into the edge of the sink and abrading the tender inner membranes of her vagina until it exuded enough slick fluid to make the way easy for him.
When he had spurted in her, he pulled out as suddenly as he had entered her, slapped her butt without force, and left the kitchen. She stood there leaning weakly on the sink, heedless of the water she'd got on herself, barely cognizant of the semen trickling down her legs. She stared at the window over the sink, and her brain spun and careened as she tried desperately to think.
For some reason, whim perhaps, Paul decided to drive to town, and she sat beside him, silent and thoughtful. He, also, said nothing.
A jam caught them on the bridge, and he reached over and ran his hand up under her skirt. His finger not only nudged her panties, it pressed hard enough to thrust them into her slit. She groaned. Her legs did not clamp; they jerked apart. He got a couple of fingers up under her panties and played with her hps and slit until it was wet, then rubbed her clit.
She was starting to come when the traffic started moving again. He immediately returned both hands to the wheel and drove on. Moaning, feeling tears stinging her eyes, she finished herself. She was definitely incapable of leaving herself there, on the edge of the cliff where he had left her dangling.
He chuckled. "That's mine, you know." She started to say "what," but she didn't. She knew what he meant. He had seized possession of her cunt. He was right. It was his. His "that's mine, you know" could just as well, she realized, apply to her entire body. The thought disturbed her�but it also made her feel warm and content.
Then he was pulling up at Grand Central Terminal. He did not kill the engine but left it running as he turned to her.
"Here you are, Brenda. I will pay you eight hundred a month to be my very confidential secretary. There will be bonuses, and trips. Your duties would be anything and everything I tell you to do. Absolutely everything, Brenda."
She turned to look into his eyes. "God! Men like Faruk Dulger... " He nodded. "Of course. And men like me. And Greg." He gave her a swift knowing smile. "And women like Roz, hmm? Well. It's your decision, and I've got to get to the office. There'll be some heavy trading with Turkey this month... Hop out, Brenda. Call me if you want the job. Otherwise... you're a hundred dollars ahead and you've got enough material to write a book."
Brenda blinked, started to speak, and closed her mouth. She got out of the car, took out her luggage, and stood there, watching as if in a daze while he drove away.
Her lips moved. "Otherwise... you've got enough material to write a book. Oh, damn him, damn him!"
Then she told me, and I wrote the book. I've changed some of the names, naturally enough.
Otherwise you'd be able to call Brenda, or go in and see her, or try to get "Paul Collins" in trouble. Through her, perhaps.