Amy Barker awakened, as she had every morning that month, to the sound of her husband's snoring. Although she had already stopped asking herself why Rick, who had always been such a quiet sleeper, should suddenly develop a snoring habit just as she was starting her new job, she still could not conquer the feeling that she had gone to bed with a faulty water heater. Now she stirred, reached for her pillow, and gave Rick a gentle whack in the head. The tactic worked, but only briefly Rick gave out a few underwater gurgles, then turned over on his back and resumed his imitation of a runaway streetcar.
By then Amy was entirely awake. She sighed, took a look at the clock, and realized that she had only an hour to get ready for work. So far she had been very punctual; one did not get very far with the firm of Robinson and Klein if one was habitually, or even rarely tardy. She jumped out of bed and walked briskly to the shower, turning the water to full volume and the massaging shower-head to needles. The shower-head had been her first purchase after her initial sale, a sort of appetizer, a precursor to the fabulous luxury that she would be enjoying within a very few years. Robinson and Klein had a reputation of making millionaires out of their salesmen.
As she walked from the shower to put on her bathrobe, Amy noticed that Rick had finally gotten up. She went into the kitchen to find him at the table, drinking his morning coffee. As she passed his chair, Rick's arm snaked out, grasped her around the waist and hauled her down to his lap. He looked so determined that Amy could not help laughing. "Rick!" she protested.
With a growl of mock ferocity, Rick gripped the sides of her lovely face, twisting her head, his fingers tugging through her long blonde hair. His lips met hers in a savage, primitive kiss. His tongue drove between her lips, wedging her teeth open.
Even as she felt her passion boiling upward, Amy pushed defensively against her husband. This too was something new, some new reaction to her independence. Always before she had been meekly responsive to Rick's every whim, putting her feelings and moods on hold and allowing him the mastery to which he had become accustomed.
Now she felt Rick's grip on her change, felt his tongue retreat from her mouth and his muscles go rigid. Not wishing to force the issue at what was obviously a sensitive time for him, Amy forced her tongue to follow his, to drive into his strong mouth. Twisting her torso, she ground her small, firm breasts against his hard chest. Her petite body writhed in his lap in a primitive dance of desire as she rekindled her faded passions.
The quivering tautness of his muscles changed slowly into the soft but more demanding grasp of sexual need, and Amy's distaste relaxed and became genuine lust. With her arms engulfing his head and neck, she snuggled herself deeper in his arms as their mouths worked and mingled in a sucking, devouring kiss. His hand slid from her back around her side, stroking the sweeping curve of her rib cage, then cupping and molding to one of her lovely breasts.
Heat built in Amy, sweeping through her. She responded to the warm grasp on her breast by pushing against it, arching her spine and twisting. Her bare legs twined sensuously as the skirts of her bathrobe bunched up against her pussy. Under her firm bottom she could feel the sturdy lump of Rick's cock hardening and thrusting at her eagerly.
Releasing her breast, Rick hooked his arm under her legs. With an easy heave he lifted her and stood up, spinning her giddily as he headed for the bedroom. As before, the display of masculine power thrilled Amy. She clung to Rick's sturdy neck, her head on his shoulder as he carried her down the long hall to their bedroom.
Rick slammed the door behind him with an easy kick of one foot, carried her to the bed, and dropped her from three feet up. Breathless from the suddenness of it all, Amy bounced wildly, then lay still. She was boiling inside, burning up with sexual need. But all she could do was lie there on her back, waiting for him, her arms out to her sides, one leg bent gracefully.
As she lay there she studied Rick, who was busy stripping off his clothes. She focused her eyes on the powerful flex of muscles in his chest, the powerful column of his neck, the hot avid interest in his hazel eyes. The sight of his naked body had always been a reliable turn-on, and she struggled desperately in her mind to keep it that way, to ignore the new and confusing feeling of repugnance that was welling up inside her. How much longer she wondered, then gratefully gave herself up to the immediate pleasure her husband was offering.
The sight of Rick's cock, so ready to penetrate her, made Amy lick her lips in excitement. She wanted to move, to get her body stripped and exposed and waiting for him, but so great was her need that her muscles were only capable of quivering. Still lying on her back, all she could do was to put all her energy into the desperate pleading in her eyes.
She whimpered softly with ecstasy as her nude husband bent over her, his hands reaching in to part her bathrobe. Slowly, worshipfully, he spread the folds of terry cloth (Amy had already promised herself that her next purchase would be a silk bathrobe), exposing her trim torso. Then he put his arm around her waist and lifted her, simultaneously pulling down her panties with the other hand. Then he let her gently back down on the bed.
His eyes swept from her face, with the clear, flawless skin and aquiline nose, down to the pale mounds of her breasts. Her nipples, small and pink, jutted up sharply, almost demandingly. The muscles in her flat stomach rippled and shivered eagerly.
There was no shaking or trembling in Rick's hand as he stripped the robe from her shoulders and arms. She looked up at him to see him grinning delightedly at her naked form. Then he paused. His heart was hammering wildly as he studied his wife's naked and glorious body. Her skin was golden tan where the sun had touched her, pale white where it hadn't. The tops of her breasts were almost porcelain white he could even see the tiny blue veins running through them as they throbbed and heaved.
Then Amy posed arched her back gently, sucked her stomach in. One leg was bent, the other straight, doing nothing to conceal her sex.
"Dear God!" Rick whispered as he lowered himself onto her. His hands gripped her shoulders with desperate, urgent, bruising need.
Amy felt his weight come down on her and let the wind blast from her lungs with relief and satisfaction. Twisting her head so her mouth met his, she clutched at him with the same desperation with which he was holding her. Bare skin slid against bare skin with a hot, satiny softness that was broken and emphasized by the scratch of harsh body hair.
Amy rolled her hips toward Rick's. Spreading her legs, she clasped one of his strong hairy fingers between hers, pressing the hot nest of her pussy against his hard muscle. She felt the hot shaft of his erect prick pressing against her soft flesh. Slipping one slender hand between them, she curled her fingers around the rock-hard, engorged cylinder of his cock. She squeezed it to reassure herself of its power, its hardness, and its familiarity.
Rick's hand slid down Amy's side and she rolled on her back. She let her legs slide down to expose the heart of her sex. His hand scraped over the tender expanse of her stomach, pressed the curls of her pubic bush flat, and entered the moist folds of her pussy. One big finger slid into her hot, oozing nest, probed into the salivating hole of her vagina, felt the warm juices flow over it.
Rick was being torn apart. Amy's body, so small and graceful and young, seemed to beg to be treated roughly. But, afraid of his own strength, he fought to temper his caresses with tenderness. Even so, he knew that in the end their animal instincts would have them both clawing at one another. Her small frame and lithe, ballet-trained muscles could almost match his sturdy body thrust for thrust.
Hooking his finger in her hot, wet, slick vagina, he pulled upward against her pubic arch, crushing her clitoris with his palm. He felt her fingers tighten convulsively around his prick and milk the hard cylinder with a steely, almost masculine strength.
Amy rolled her head from side to side as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through her. The hot bar of Rick's cock in her hand was ready and eager. She licked lips that were suddenly, perversely, hot and dry although her mouth was watering with primitive appetite. Deliberately, she remained on her back, battling the urge to turn on Rick and engulf his body with hers. She loved to torment herself, loved the feel of a finger hooked in her pussy, loved the hard pressure of his body alongside hers, loved the touch of cool air on the inflamed tips of her breasts.
Her well-rounded hips began to roll and twist with her steadily increasing need. She scrubbed the wiry bush of her pussy against his invading hand. The muscles on the insides of her thighs were quivering. Her breathing was ragged and uneven as her rib cage and diaphragm lost coordination and began battling each other.
The finger hooked deep in her slick channel was too little to do more than inflame her. The muscles of her vagina clenched and squeezed, but Rick's probe was too slender to grip tightly. With a soft whimper of need, Amy tugged on Rick's monster erection, trying to pull it in the direction of her ravenously hungry pussy. Her slender body was spread wide, was dying to have his full weight grinding it down into the mattress.
Rick slid his body over hers and Amy twisted her head. Her mouth was seeking his, was sucking hungrily. As his bulk covered her, she reamed her tongue hungrily around in his mouth. He pulled his hand from her crotch and clutched her. He was smearing her pale skin with his own secretions as his strong fingers dug into her ribs. Where once she had been ticklish as a child, now, as a woman, a light touch sent waves of lust coursing through her writhing, squirming body, setting her afire with passion.
Ignoring the crushing weight that ground her wrist into her pubic area, Amy guided the head of Rick's cock to the hot, dripping funnel of her sex. Only after she had nestled the big, round knob of his phallus at the entrance to her did she pull her hand out from between them. Her fingers were sticky and slippery with Rick's slimy secretions. She smeared his back with his own fluids as she hugged him to her.
When Rick thrust the hot, demanding, hard bulk of his cock into her, the air gusted from Amy's lungs. It felt so good to have a huge mass filling her pussy. She moved, impatient to have his entire bulk inside her at once. Rick was working his organ into her socket slowly, tantalizingly, gradually stretching her tight, clinging, velvety walls with his engorging prick.
He loved the feel of her body engulfing his shaft. Her vagina was tight and soft, velvety and slick and hot. She felt small and vulnerable underneath him. Her skin was satiny smooth against his. Her clawing at his back was urging him on. As more and more of his cock felt the hot clinging embrace of her vagina, his lust soared higher and higher.
When his cock jammed completely into her, Rick paused. Pushing up off of her, he looked down into her eyes, then moved his gaze downward to notice that her nipples were hard and sharp. His eyes continued traveling down to where his groin met hers, where his pubic hair tangled and mingled with her bushy patch. He drew his cock out of her, watched it slide into view. It was shining and wet. He thrust back into her, deep into her, watching his cock as it slowly vanished, a monstrous, splitting lance thrust deep into her.
Rick drew back and rammed at her, hard, and Amy's lust soared as the monster phallus slammed against the end of her vagina. Her clit cracked in a haze of pleasure as his pubic arch smashed it.
When he lowered his weight on her she hugged him desperately, hungrily. Her hips surged and heaved in opposition to his every thrust, increasing the force and speed with which his towering phallus entered her hungry body. Bucking wildly under him, using the rebounding springs of the bed to increase the violence of their collisions, she dug her fingers into his powerful muscles.
Had she wanted to, Rick could have wrapped his arms around Amy's slender body and squeezed her ribs until they cracked. Instead, he hooked his arms under her shoulders, and gripped the side of her head in his forceful hands. His teeth clashed with hers as he tried to devour her. He rutted his cock into her with driving, pounding heaves.
Impatient, desperate to raise her to her peak before his strength gave out, he rammed at her quickly, sharply. His own climax was drawing close, a hot, itching ball of fire that would erupt from his prick in blazing pulses. Every pumping drive of his hips lifted him one notch closer to the fiery convulsion of completion. The nerves of his cock became more and more sensitive, more and more inflamed as he pistoned it in the velvety, gripping well.
Amy's hips were twisting and jerking mindlessly. Her pelvis rocked, twisted, wringing her clit between her pubic bone and his.
"Ohhhhh," she gasped. "Ohhhhhh, I'm coming. Ohhhh, let me have it. Have it. Have it. Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, oh, oh, ooohhhhhhhhhh-hhhhhh!"
Amy's slender body arched in a muscle-straining, joint-popping heave as her orgasm roared through her in a tidal wave of fiery pleasure.
Rick rammed deep into her, thrusting hard, trying to bore his cock completely into her.
Amy felt his cock pulsing deep inside her. Hot jolts of semen spattered the end of her vagina as his cock spewed forth it copious load. As her burning pleasure slowly faded to a delicious, aching memory, Amy milked his prick with her clutching vagina. She clung to him, happily engulfed in his strong, masculine aroma.
The rigidity in his muscles departed abruptly. He was panting with exhaustion as he lay on top of her. He was completely limp. Amy cuddled his body tenderly, fighting back her tears of fear and sorrow. At one time a session such as this would have been only a prelude to an insane day of lovemaking. At one time, both of them would have considered it a "quickie". But now it had somehow become an ordeal, as disappointing as it was fulfilling, and it always left Amy with a feeling of desolation that she could neither control nor understand.
As if to convince herself that things were still as they always had been, Amy held onto Rick desperately. She tightened her arms around him in an iron grip. She hooked her legs around his and hung on as if there would be no tomorrow, as if this had been their last time.
CHAPTER TWO
Amy felt the now-familiar sensation of release as soon as she left the house. After six years of marriage, six years during which Rick had been the family breadwinner and Amy little more than an all-purpose appliance, she was still basking in the independence and pride she had regained by working for Robinson and Klein. She regretted the fact that her time to spread her wings had come just at the point when Rick's career had taken a turn for the worse how nice it would have been, she thought for the hundredth time, if we could both be independently successful at the same time but she now felt that nothing could make her return to her old subservience.
If Rick weren't so resentful, she thought, then things would be better. But the sudden change in their roles had required an adjustment that Rick didn't seem to be up to, so that instead of supporting her and enjoying her success, he became more demanding and intolerable than ever. It was "Amy get me this," and "Amy what am I going to do about dinner," and "Amy I don't like that dress you're wearing;" until his wife felt like jumping out of her skin every time she was around him. But instead of fighting back and confronting him, she simply kept quiet and allowed her feeling for him to die a slow death.
The only thing that was still keeping them together, she was sure, was their sex, and even that was changing. Physically it was still as good as it had been in the old days, but there was an emotional quality which now seemed to be almost entirely lacking. Whereas before she had always looked forward to Rick's homecoming so that they could while away the after-dinner hours in their extra-firm bed, now the thought of making love to Rick had become almost repulsive. Luckily, her body still seemed to be in command of her feelings, and once she overcame her initial reluctance she could enjoy lovemaking, for awhile longer, at least.
As it had been every weekday far the last month, all thought of Rick and their marital problems disappeared as soon as she walked in the hand-carved oak doors of Robinson and Klein's luxurious Montgomery Street office. There was something so solid and reliable about those doors, that office, that once inside she found it hard to imagine anything being wrong anywhere. Maybe that's it, she thought as she walked through the massive doors: maybe I'm married to this office. God knows it's more satisfying and exciting than what's going on at home.
As always, Ginny the receptionist gave her a knowing smile when she walked in, but today the smile seemed to have taken on an extra ingredient.
"Robby wants to see you," she grinned. "Right away."
Amy tried not to look flabbergasted. She had actually laid eyes on the senior partner only once, and that had been the day she was hired. She remembered that he had given her an appraising look, but had said nothing. Now he wanted to see her. What could this be about? she wondered, not having the slightest idea what Mr. Robinson might have in mind. She had been treated very well there up to now, and everyone had been very encouraging to her, complimenting heron the job she was doing, but she couldn't help feeling a little anxious at this summons from a man who had a reputation of never going out of his way to get involved with his employees.
She straightened her skirt, licked the tip of her little finger and ran it along her eyebrows. Trying to control her galloping rear, she walked down the hall to Mr. Robinson's door and gave it a timid knock.
A muffled voice came through the door. "Come in.".
Amy walked in, arranging her face in a nervous smile. Surprisingly, Mr. Robinson's office was quite small and plain, small and plainer even than hers. Robinson himself was bent over a stack of papers, working furiously.
"Yes?" he said, not bothering to look up.
"I'm Mrs. Barker," said Amy. "Ginny said you wanted to see me."
"Right," said the boss, looking up. "Mrs. Barker, I've been hearing very good things about your work."
"Really?" said Amy. "I'm glad to hear that."
"They say you're bright, enthusiastic, and responsive," Robinson continued. "I've been hearing it so much that I've decided to send you on a very important job."
"Fantastic," Amy said. "What is it?"
"You may not know this, in fact if you do know it somebody's going to get fired for gossiping, but we've decided to move into the music business. Concert promotion, to be precise."
"Sounds great," said Amy enthusiastically. "Any type of concert in particular?"
"All types, eventually. For now we're going to do a few rock concerts, which are actually the most difficult to arrange. That's why we're starting with them, because they're the most difficult."
"An admirable philosophy."
"Admirable, maybe, but we're in business for profit, not admiration. I hope you realize that. At any rate, we want to start big we want to sign the Primordial Ooze for a show at Candlestick."
Despite herself, Amy gasped. "That's pretty big fish," she managed to say. "I understand they only do one concert a year they've got so much money already."
"Well," said Robinson, "we're going to try to get them anyway. Now I've made an appointment for you to see their manager, Danny Richman. He also manages Tyrone and that other group, what's their name? The Marauding Hordes."
"I know," Amy gulped. "I read it in Rolling Stone." The three groups Mr. Robinson had mentioned were the hottest properties in the rock business, and had been for many years, despite all challenges.
"Your appointment is for eleven o'clock this morning, so I don't have much time for briefing. Let's get to it."
Amy listened carefully as Mr. Robinson explained the details of the firm's proposal, taking notes and nodding occasionally. When he had finished, he sat back. "The big thing," he said, "is to know when to stand firm and when to make an appropriate compromise. This Richman is very shrewd, and not too easy to deal with. I'll rely on your judgment."
"I appreciate your confidence," Amy said. "I'l do the best I can."
"As for the confidence," Mr. Robinson replied, "you've earned it. As for doing the best you can, that might not be quite enough. I want you to do the best that anyone can."
"I understand," Amy said. "Okay," said Mr. Robinson, getting up and offering his hand. "Now get going."
As Amy was driving toward Tiburon, where Danny Richman had his office, she couldn't help wondering why Mr. Robinson had chosen her for such an important assignment. True, her work up to that point had been high quality, but she was so new to the firm and to the business world in general ... If she had been the boss she doubted that she would have taken such a risk with a new and basically unproven employee. Well, she decided finally, it's his decision, so I'd just better try to get the job done.
A receptionist showed her in to Richman's office, poured her a cup of coffee and asked her to wait a moment. "He's just going over some record contracts," she said. "He won't be a minute."
Amy glanced around the office. It was a one hundred and eighty degree contrast to Mr. Robinson's: a room just slightly smaller than Madison Square Garden, with a full bar, an elaborate stereo set-up, a small screening area, and a redwood hot tub in one corner. The walls were festooned with gold and platinum records, and with pictures of Danny Richman being embraced by some of the biggest names in rock and roll. She could pick out the Primordial Ooze and Tyrone, and also Mindy MacPherson, who was her own personal favorite. She had just gotten up to examine Mindy's picture more closely when she heard the door open and turned around. A tall man with long blonde surfer-style hair was walking across the room.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Danny Richman. And you're Amy Barker from Robinson and Klein. I've heard good things about you."
"And I've heard equally good things about you," Amy lied, shaking Richman's hand. Jesus, she was thinking to herself, this guy is handsome.
"Let's get it on, then," said Danny, offering her a chair and taking a seat behind his enormous chrome and glass desk. He smiled charmingly. "I'm surprised to hear that Robinson and Klein is interested in rock and roll. Old Robby going into second childhood, or what?"
"Either that or senile dementia," Amy replied, and they both laughed appreciatively.
"What's he got in mind?" Danny said.
"He wants to do a concert with The Primordial Ooze."
Danny whistled through his teeth. "Guy doesn't fuck around, does he? Right to the top."
"Right," said Amy, waiting for the handsome manager to make his move.
"Where?" said Danny.
"Candlestick Park."
"44,000 seats," Danny said. "How many shows are we talking about."
"Two," said Amy.
"You know that the Ooze only does one show a year."
"I know."
"Very tough," said Danny. "In fact, I'd say you've got a lost cause."
"Why?"
"Well," he smiled, "you may not know this, being new to the business and all, but the last show the Ooze did was at the LA Coliseum. Now the Coliseum seats 102,000, and the Ooze sold it out for three shows at $15 a head. But you know what? Wolf and Reismuller, probably the most experienced stagers around, promoted that show, and they just barely broke even. That's how expensive the Ooze are."
"Give me a figure," Amy said, beginning to enjoy the wheeling and dealing.
"For one show the Ooze's standard guarantee if 100K plus ten percent of the gross. For two shows it goes up to 300K and twelve percent."
"That's ridiculous," said Amy.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Richman said. "The Ooze is a ridiculous group. The thing is, they hate live concerts, so they try to price themselves out of the business. But people still take them up on it every once in awhile."
"I wonder why."
"So do I." Richman broke into another charming grin. "I'll tell you something else. The Ooze doesn't just hate concerts, they hate music. They'd much rather spend all their time raising greyhounds and fucking around with computers."
"Lovely," said Amy, getting up to go. "Well, I'll take your figure back to Mr. Robinson, but I'm sure he's going to allow your clients to go on with their dogs and all."
"Wait a minute," said Danny, getting up and walking around to the other side of the desk. "I told you their standard fee. They have been known to make exceptions."
"Oh?" said Amy, still standing. "Under what circumstances?"
"Once in awhile for charity, but only if it looks like good business. Then sometimes as a personal favor to someone."
"Someone like you?" Amy smiled.
"Maybe," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sure we can discuss it further, especially since it's you I'm discussing it with." He gave her a knowing grin and looked her body up and down.
Ah, thought Amy, so that's it. Before she had a chance to think further, Richman walked over to the hot tub and pressed a switch. Immediately steaming water started billowing out from a wall faucet and filling the tub, giving it the .appearance af a witch's cauldron.
"Sorry," Amy said. "I've already showered."
Richman laughed again in his easy way. "This thing is to a shower like a saltine is to beef bourguignon," he said. Then, in front of the startled Amy's eyes, he began stripping off his clothes. "Come on," he said. "Let's give it a try. It'll set you up for the rest of the week, not to mention improving your bargaining position."
"I think I know what sort of position you have in mind," Amy replied, as Danny removed his socks and shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Thanks, but no thanks." Still, she found it hard to take her eyes off the young man's chest as he stripped off his shirt.
Danny shrugged. "It's up to you," he said. He paused, then quickly striding over to her, he surprised her by taking her in his arms in a strong embrace. "But maybe I can help you make your decision," he said, whispering in her ear.
The combination of surprise and the feel of Danny's strong arms turned Amy on in spite of her best instincts. She thought fast: if I go back to Mr. Robinson with the figure Danny gave me, the boss is going to forget the whole project and maybe lose confidence in me at the same time, so maybe I should just forget about principles and go ahead. But what about Rick? No matter how she felt about him at the moment, she was still his wife, .and wives were supposed to live up to certain standards. Oh, the hell with standards, she thought, as Danny began massaging her back. Let's just make this deal.
"All right," she said, breathing in Danny's ear. "But why don't we skip the formalities and the hot-tub seduction scene? I really did shower this morning."
"Fine with me," Danny said. He stepped back and quickly unzipped his pants, letting them slide to the floor. He wore no under wear, so Amy could immediately see his naked hardness pointing straight at her, the throbbing cock-head seeming to have a life of its own.
Within moments Amy was stripped and lying on the plush carpet, already moaning with desire. "Cone on," she groaned, thrashing her head from side to side. "Let's close the deal." . Danny Richman stood over the small woman, his eyes devouring her bare beauty. Her small, slender, graceful body made his mouth water. She lay on her back, one knee bent, concealing nothing from him. The light brown brush of her pussy seemed to almost tug at his cock from a distance it was like a magnet pulling at him.
Bending over, he closed his hands over the soft mounds of her breasts. Her skin was warm and satin smooth. Her nipples burrowed into his palms as he mashed the fleshy globes against her graceful ribs.
"Aaaaaah," Amy moaned softly as fire rushed through her. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying this it was just business, after all but knew too that she was going to. Her head rolled with building excitement, her fingers curled.
Releasing one of Amy's breasts, Danny reached down and touched the inside of her knee. Gently he pushed outward, spreading her legs to expose more of her pussy. Huddled far down between her graceful thighs, deep in the heart of her pubic bush, nestled in the crevice between her pouting, full labia, was a flash of exciting pink flesh.
He stroked the back of his fingers down the silken flesh on the inside of her thigh. Reaching her pussy, he spread her labia carefully. Her inner folds were a brilliant pink, shining wet, slick and juicy. The bud of her clitoris gleamed like a pearl in the fluorescent light. After coating his finger with her juices, he gently teased that nerve-loaded button.
"Aaaaaaaah," Amy moaned at the ceiling. Her toes tensed, her hips rolled and twisted. Fire was slashing through her tingling flesh as she lay naked and unresisting under Danny's explorations. "Aaaaaah," she moaned again as her lust soared higher. She tried to tell herself that she was impatient for him to get it over with, but she knew that wasn't really it. She wanted his cock in her, deep inside her, that was what she was impatient for. She reached out blindly and found the hot, hard shaft. A burning drop of slippery fluid seared her fingers as she curled them around the knob-head of Danny's hard pulsing prick. She stroked the powerful, heavy cylinder, trying to build his excitement, encouraging him to thrust his prick into her belly.
Amy found that his cock was writhing like an animal. His hands looked tan and strong and lovely against her pale flesh. One hand still engulfed one of her breasts. A pert, pink nipple peeked out from between his pinching fingers. He diddled the steaming folds of her dripping pussy with the fingers of his other hand. Her slick secretions had coated his fingers and her hot milking grip around his throbbing, ready prick was lifting him higher and higher.
Finally Danny lowered himself onto the petite promoter. The pile carpet depressed and lay flat as his weight was added to hers. Her skin felt like satin against his smooth body.
Amy spread her thighs wide as he came down on her. She kept hold of his cock until she had nestled its head at the opening to her hungry vagina. Then she awkwardly pulled her hand from between them and clutched his hard, muscular back. She heaved her hips up in an attempt to get the cock she needed so desperately to feel inside her.
Amy's pussy embraced the sensitive head of Danny's cock like a velvet glove. Thrilled with the hot, gripping tightness of her tunnel, he eased his phallus into her with gentle, careful pumps of his hips. She was tight, deliciously, delectably tight, a hot clinging sheath of living flesh embracing his stocky cock. He could feel wisps of wiry pubic hair scratching the skin of his shaft as he eased it into her.
"Ohhhhhhhh, fuck me," Amy moaned, wrapping her legs around his muscular hips and urging him deeper. She spurred him on with her heels, urging him further into her hot, hungry hole. "Fuck me," she whispered. Her animal lust had burned away all of her hesitations and inhibitions. All that mattered now was reaching that wonderful, burning peak of pleasure.
Danny was grinning ferociously, his muscles knotting as he bored his explosively swollen prick into the hot, willing, eager body beneath him. He clutched her firm flesh with his powerful fingers as he pistoned his cock into her clenching pussy.
Amy was jerking and heaving underneath him, her hips lifting and driving against hers, pulverizing her clitoris into a patch of fiery pleasure. She clawed at his broad, tanned back, kicked his muscular heaving buttocks with her heels to spur him deeper, then pushed her feet against the desk in an attempt to raise her pelvis higher. The floor resounded with the slapping, heaving, panting, gasping juicy sounds of their abandoned linking.
"Aaaaaaaaah, aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, ah, ah, I'm com I'm cooommmmiiiiiinnnnnnn-nnnggggg," Amy gasped. Her athletic young body arched off the carpet as she climaxed.
With an animal whoop of pleasure, Danny slammed his cock deep into the straining body underneath him, riding out her violent, orgasmic coming. His own coming was hanging barely out of reach as he brought her off in a gush of juices so copious that they drenched their tangled pubic thatches.
"Mmmmmmmmm," Amy sighed, her muscles relaxing as her orgasm faded away. She lay limp under Danny, fighting for breath. It wasn't until he began to move again that she realized that he hadn't yet climaxed. She lay on her back, dazed, feeling his huge phallus pistoning and squishing in her fulfilled vagina. She was too exhausted to do anything other than just lie there limp, taking his powerful, demanding thrusts. Then suddenly, she was soaring up that searing slope of pleasure once again.
Danny heaved his cock into the lax body under him, pounding his shaft into her. His head nestled into the curve of her neck, he rammed his hungry prick into her clinging sheath again and again and again. He felt her breasts mash flat against his unforgiving chest, felt her nipples burning into his skin. He was aware of her pubic bush scrubbing against his, her sleek, smooth thighs rubbing against his muscular ones. It all added up to an incredible symphony of sexual sensations, a blazing orchestration that was building toward a crashing carnal finale.
He heaved and thrust and felt the fire explode outward from his groin. Rippling pulses of thick semen spattered deep in the heart of Amy Barker's body as he poured his load into her. His body knotted and strained as he speared her guts with his sprouting tool.
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh," Amy wailed. She felt limp as an old dishrag as a second orgasm blazed through her. She felt every quiver of the cock convulsing in her vagina, and instinctively milked the pulsing, pumping organ with her muscular channel.
Then the pulsing inside her slowly died away, and Amy's pleasure faded. As her lust went away, nausea and disgust at what she had just done filled her. Remembering Rick, she had to squeeze her eyes shut to fight back tears of shame. Her vagina seemed to snap shut as the man climbed off her, his dripping cock spraying her thighs with their mixed juices. She didn't get up from the carpet until she heard the splashing sound Danny made as he eased himself into the simmering hot tub.
Finally she got up and slowly put her clothes on, her back to Danny all the while. When she had herself arranged, she walked toward the door, hearing Danny's voice behind her:
"Hey, Mrs. Barker," he said, gloating a bit. "I'll let you know what kind of deal we can workout. But tell Robinson not to hold his breath; these things take awhile. Lots of negotiation, you know?"
"I can imagine," Amy said, without looking back. She walked out the door, closing it to leave the, grinning Danny to poach in his own water.
* * *
Although Mr. Robinson quizzed her carefully when she returned to the office, Amy refused to reveal any of the details of her meeting with Danny Richman. "You'll just have to trust me, boss," was all she would say. "It's in the works."
CHAPTER THREE
Amy heard the intercom buzz just as she was cleaning up her desk to leave for the day. "Yes, Ginny?" she answered.
"You've got a call," came the receptionist's metallic voice.
"Too bad," said Amy. "I'm gone for the day. It's past business hours anyway."
"Don't pack up yet, sweetie," said Ginny. "The call's from Danny Richman."
Shit, Amy thought. I've had enough of that guy for one day. What the hell could he want? She was just about to tell Ginny to take a message when she remembered that she had left Mr. Robinson very much in the dark on the Primordial .Ooze deal, and that if she were going to earn his trust and keep it, she'd damn well better follow up with the group's manager.
"All right," she sighed, setting down her briefcase. "I'll take the call."
"I thought so," Ginny chuckled.
She picked up the phone and pushed the lighted button. "Amy Barker," she said briskly.
"I know," Danny's voice came through the receiver. She could almost see him grinning into the telephone. "I've got some news for you."
"Shoot," said Amy, pencil poised over her memo pad.
"I just talked with Harry Bledsoe, the leader of the Ooze. They're willing to listen to an offer." Danny's voice was so casual and charming that Amy found herself getting excited for no real good reason.
"Good," she said. "So what's next?"
"Well," said Danny, "I really don't know what your schedule is like, but since I caught Harry in a rare reasonable mood, I went ahead and made an appointment for you to see him. Hope you don't mind."
"When?"
"Tomorrow at one o'clock. Harry's house. Is that all right?"
"Just a second," Amy said, trying to disguise her excitement by maintaining a business-like tone. "I'll have to check my calendar." She let ten seconds pass while she doodled on her memo pad. "Okay," she said finally. "I'll have to rearrange some things, but I think I can make it."
"Don't just think you can make it," Danny said. "Make it. You don't catch Harry in these negotiating moods too often, so if I were you I'd jump on it. Figuratively speaking, of course."
"Of course," Amy responded coolly.
Dan gave her the directions to Harry Bledsoe's house in Bolinas, then the two signed off with mutual assurances that they would keep in touch. "Again, figuratively speaking." Danny laughed.
Amy's mind was racing a mile a minute as she drove home to Daly City. So much had happened in one day, she felt she had to arrange her thoughts and feelings before facing her husband. First of all, she thought, there was the prospect of this deal with the Primordial Ooze, which could represent not only a coup for Robinson and Klein, but a very large personal feather in-her own cap. If she could close this deal, her future would be assured, no doubt of that. If not, she'd probably have to go on working as a glorified secretary for a long time before a similar opportunity arose.
Counterbalancing her excitement over her own prospects was the fact that she had violated Rick's trust in allowing Danny Richman to make love to her. As part and parcel of a business deal, the ethics of her act didn't bother her she knew that the business world operated like that, and she was not about to go against the grain. But she did feel slightly guilty on Rick's behalf. The poor guy was having so much trouble as it was, what with his career going downhill and his wife changing daily in front of his eyes; now she was adding fuel to the fire with the adulterous way she was conducting her business. She knew that Rick could never face that, and that ultimately she would have to choose between her marriage and her career; either that or try to maintain both through lying and hypocrisy. The conflict was so massive that she was unable to come to any decision, so she decided to act as if nothing had happened and postpone the inevitable confrontation with Rick.
She found him sitting in front of the TV set, watching re-runs of .AW in the Family. His shirt and shoes were off, and his feet were balanced on a TV tray in front of him. He barely turned around to acknowledge her as she walked in the door.
"Hi," Amy said in an artificially cheerful tone. "How'd it go today?"
"Just great," Rick said sourly. "Archie had a big fight with Meathead because Gloria signed an abortion initiative. Then Edith came in ... "
"Oh come on, Rick," Amy said, exasperated. "I don't need sarcasm at the end of the day. Come on, tell me: how was your day?"
"You want to know how my day was," Rick mused. "That's very interesting. I didn't think you'd give a damn, what with all the money you're bringing home from that pimping operation you work for."
"What is this?" Amy said, wide-eyed. "I come home, I ask a simple question, and I get sarcasm and insults. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Not a thing," her husband replied. "You asked me how my day was, I told you. As far as insults, I'm sorry you took it that way, but I was just offering a personal opinion. Maybe I'm not entitled to those anymore. Maybe you should read me my rights so I'll know where I stand. God knows I don't want to do anything to annoy you."
"Rick, please. I don't understand," Amy pleaded. "What have I done?"
"Nothing," said Rick turning back to face the TV set. "Forget it."
"That's what I'm going to have to do for the moment," Amy said. "I'm too worn out to argue.
If you feel like talking later,, fine. I'll listen."
She walked into the kitchen, leaving Rick to stare glumly as Edith Bunker took up her normal stance between Archie and Meathead. She went to the refrigerator to begin preparing dinner, but opened the door to find nothing but a six-pack of beer and a piece of moldy cheese. "Oh Jesus," she said to herself. "Now what?"
"Rick," she called out. "Didn't you get anything for dinner? There's nothing in the refrigerator."
"Yeah, I know," her husband yelled back. "And if you think that's nothing, you should look in the pantry."
Taking his cue, Amy opened the pantry door. There was nothing inside but a jar of peanut butter and two packages of Twinkies. Sighing, she closed the door and walked back into the living room.
"Rick," she said quietly, standing in the doorway, "there's nothing to eat."
"I know," he said. "I thought we'd go to dinner at Ernie's, or Le Payillion."
"You're crazy," she said. "We can't afford those places."
"No?" he said, mocking astonishment. "I thought you were closing at least two billion-dollar deals a day. What happened? Only close one today?" He looked at her angrily.
"All right, Rick," she said. "Let's talk. What's eating you?"
"Not a thing," he said, turning his gaze back to the TV screen.
Amy strode across the room and placed herself between Rick and the TV set. "Now stop it," she said. "Let's get this whole thing out in the open. You've been acting like a spoiled child for the last two weeks, and I want to know what the hell is bothering you."
"I said forget it."
"No!" Amy barked. "I won't forget it!" You're doing your best to make me miserable, and I don't think I deserve this treatment, especially when I'm working to keep this household together."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Amy realized that she'd said the wrong thing. Rick gave her a murderous stare.
"Oh, you are?" he said in a cold, even tone. "And I suppose I'm sitting home all day eating bonbons and reading Gothic novels."
"That's not what I mean," Any said, backing down a little. "I just meant that right now while things are a little down for you, the money I'm bringing home is helping out, that's all."
"Things are not temporarily down for me!" Rick yelled. "It's the season. Nobody builds in the wintertime, or haven't you noticed? We're still doing all right on what I made last summer."
"Rick," Amy said, "I don't mean to contradict you, but that money was gone by November."
"All right, all right," he said. "But I'm working on a deal that'll more than make up for the in-between times. A government contract to build a new post office in Martinez ... or is it Concord?"
"Now we're on the right track," Amy smiled. "That's what I wanted to know when I came in. How's that deal going? Any progress?"
"Sure there's progress," Rick said bitterly. "The government sits on its thumbs, the town fathers of Martinez or Concord or wherever sit on their thumbs, and here I am with Edith and Archie." He passed his hands in front of his eyes. "I tell you, its so goddamned frustrating ... "
"I know, baby," Amy said, walking across the room and kneeling in front of her husband where he sat. "I know it's tough, and I know you're doing your best. But we have to eat, you know? That's the only reason I took this job, to tide us over until things started to break for you."
"Does that mean you'll quit when I start bringing in some money again?" he said, looking at her almost imploringly.
"Well ... " she said, looking away.
"See?" Rick exploded. "That's what I mean. You give me all this shit about how you're just trying to help out, but the truth is that you want to work. You aren't going to quit, even if I start bringing home a hundred grand a month."
"But why is it so important to you that I quit? I mean, I just started."
"I don't know why it's important," he said, sitting back in his chair again. "I just know that it is."
"Well," she said, trying to keep her voice gentle and under control, "if you don't know why it's important, I do. It's important to you because you want to be the guy who holds the purse strings. That way you can keep me under your control, by making me have to come to you for money."
"You think so?" he said.
"I know so. Otherwise why would you be so upset about my working? It can't be just pride."
"Why can't it?"
"All right, maybe it is. So if that's true, all you're worried about is that my bringing in the money makes you less of a man. Right?"
Rick said nothing.
"Aw, baby," she said, coming over to his chair and giving him an embrace,"how could you ever be worried about a thing like that? You'll always be a man, no matter what happens. Nothing can change it. Not only that, but you'll always be my man. Now come on." She gave him a motherly kiss.
"I'm going to take a bath," he said. He got up from his chair, gave Amy a sheepish look, and walked toward the bathroom.
Amy sat down in the chair Rick had been occupying and gave out a long sigh. Somehow everything she did was making her feel cheaper despite what she had said to Rick, she couldn't deny to herself that her new self-confidence, all derived from the job with Robinson and Klein, was changing their relationship drastically. She had no idea how much longer she would be able to keep up the charade, but she was determined now to try, at least until Rick's fortunes changed and he recovered his self-esteem; not until then would she make a real evaluation of their marriage. For now she would go on supporting him and doing her best to cheer him up.
She went into the bedroom, and taking off her shoes and dress, she sat down to wait for her husband.
Wordlessly, Rick wandered in from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. He flopped wearily, face down on the bed. Sliding over until her hips pressed against his, Amy twisted and began kneading the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck.
Rick grunted appreciatively as her strong yet graceful fingers prodded and squeezed his souring flesh. After working his shoulders over from the center outward, Amy began to draw her hands along his back. Her hands were dwarfed by the expanse of flesh, making her task look almost endless. At the small of his back. Amy was forced to turn awkwardly around. She got to her knees, then straddled Rick's thighs. She tugged at the towel until it came free, unwrapped his hips, and exposed his hard white muscular ass. With the same easy motion he had used on his back, she kneaded his buttocks, her thumbs probing into the hairy crack between them. Then she worked her way down his thighs, finally finishing by rubbing his hairy calves between her palms.
Unstraddling him, she moved up next to his shoulders, hooked her hands under one of them and pulled. Rick neither resisted nor helped her. It took a huge effort on her part before she got him flopped over on his back.
She noticed out of the corner of her eye that his cock was half-erect. She swallowed tightly. She wasn't horny, not after Danny Richman. But she knew what the rubdown was inexorably leading to. It always did. She knew she couldn't break the pattern.
After arranging Rick's arms out to his sides, as if he were being crucified, she straddled his hard, flat stomach. She massaged the sides of his neck with the tips of her fingers, then bent down and gave him a gentle, tender kiss. His torso felt warm and sturdy between her thighs and under her buttocks. She gripped his flanks with her knees as if she were riding a horse.
Finished with his neck, she proceeded down to his pectoral muscles. As she worked her way down from them, she slid her ass lower on his body. She felt his cock jab her in the rear and lifted, then lowered herself onto it. It lay up against his belly, hard and stiff in the crack of her ass.
As she massaged the muscles of Rick's solar plexus, he reached up and unbuttoned her blouse. Then he spread it open to bare the graceful, firm, pink-tipped mounds of her breasts. His big hands formed a living bra for them, pressing them against her ribs, kneading and squeezing them.
Amy felt the crotch of her panties get suddenly wet where it was stretched tight across her pussy. She broke off her massage long enough to shed the blouse, dropping it off to one side of the bed. Then she sat up straight, her hands on her bare thighs. Her spine was straight, her shoulders back the graceful, controlled posture of a dancer.
Rick's eyes filled. She looked like she was just past puberty: small, firm, pert breasts with tiny, excited nipples. He slid his hands up from her waist until his thumbs swept over the mounds of her breasts and scrubbed her sharp, pink tits.
"You still have your panties on," he informed her.
"I'm not done yet," she said softly. "Oh?"
"When I give a rundown," she started, "I give a rubdown."
"Do all your customers get such personal attention?" Rick asked, smiling.
Amy flinched. "Certainly not!" she snapped in mock outrage. "Only the big guys." She rolled his cock against her tight bottom.
Rick chuckled and pushed his hips up slightly against her weight. He continued his tactile study of her tender, nubile breasts.
Amy was bubbling with excitement from his touch and the feel of his cock trapped under her ass.
"If you will unhand me, sir, I'll continue the massage," she commented at last.
Reluctantly, Rick released her breasts. Before letting go, his thumbs and fingers tugged gently at her nipples.
Amy slid lower on her husband. Looking down, she watched his cock peek out from under her. She remembered Danny Richman's cock, then tried to put it out of her mind. Danny's cock wasn't as long as Rick's, but was bigger around when erect. Amy bit her lip. Rick's innocent comment had gotten to her. If she wasn't careful, she was bound to give her infidelity away, and that was something she had already resolved would never happen.
She dug her thumbs into Rick's belly, then massaged lower and lower, letting her hands follow the line where his thighs joined his body, an arrowhead that ended in his groin. Rick's stomach muscles quivered and convulsed from the touch of her hands so close to his genitals.
Amy slid her thumbs down between his thighs, under his balls, and lifted them gently. She rolled them on her fingers, watching the way the heavy ovoids shifted in their sac. Then, laying his sex glands between his thighs, she stroked her thumbs up the length of his cock. She felt it swell and quiver from the delicate, tantalizing stimulation.
Rick was aware of the pressure of Amy's ass on his legs, the way her thighs and knees were gripping his. He was watching the way her breasts shifted and quivered as she leaned over him, her arms pressing against the sides of her boobs to make the valley between them deeper and more exciting. The feathery touch of her thumbs endlessly stroking the length of his cock from base to tip, seemed to draw blood from every part of his body to the already-bloated organ. He felt a stinging wave of fire as his glands produced a flood of lubricant. It oozed the length of the channel of his prick. Then Amy deliberately smeared the liquid over his phallus. It made her thumbs slippery, changed the feel of her stroking, made it even more wildly sensuous.
Amy wriggled her ass lower and leaned farther forward over Rick's groin. The tight crotch of her pants felt chill and sticky from her own excitement. But she wasn't going to take his cock in her vagina. Her conscience told her that she didn't deserve that joy after what she had done with Richman. Instead, she would concentrate on giving Rick all the pleasure she knew how.
She lifted his cock with her fingers and lowered her head to it. The tips of her breasts brushed his big thighs as she neared her goal. She opened her lips, carefully wrapped them around the head of his cock, and drew her head upwards, letting his prick slide from her pursed lips.
She immediately lowered her head again and took his cock further into her mouth. She added the stimulation of her wet, hungry tongue this time. Her mouth was filled with the salty taste of his lewdly dripping fluids, and her nose engulfed in the musky, titillating smell of sex.
She bobbed her head, taking more and more of the hot, heavy tower of flesh into her slavering mouth, pressing and massaging its throbbing length with her avaricious tongue. She scrubbed the hot tips of her fiery breasts against Rick's hairy thighs. Her erect nipples burned with lust. She clutched his legs tightly between her scissoring thighs, loving the feel of his strong, hot flesh against her tender skin.
Her eyes closed as she sucked and sucked and sucked her husband's cock, taking the pulsing mass in as deeply as she could without gagging. With her hands she stimulated the excited underbase, the part of his immense rod that she couldn't get into her greedy mouth, matching the stroking of her fingers to the abandoned shaking of her head, tugging and stretching the loose skin over the hard inner core of his burning phallus.
Rick's entire being was being focused on the feel of Amy's sweet young mouth massaging his erect prick. Her tongue was a velvet mass pressing and scrubbing the most sensitive spot on the underside of his lust-hardened prick, making his groin burn and ache with desire. Her lips, a hot, wet, ring around his pulsating shaft. were excitingly different from a vaginal embrace. And the way she pulled and stretched the excited skin of his cock near the base, with her practiced fingers, gave the impression she had taken the entire towering organ down her throat.
Streams of fire seemed to be pouring through Rick's body, funneling straight to his groin to form a simmering pool of lewd passion. From time to time he lifted his head and looked down the length of his body. He loved seeing Amy's beautiful face spitted on his stabbing cock, loved to watch her hungrily devour his throbbing organ.
Amy's own guts were burning up with unfulfilled lust. She truly loved sucking Rick's cock, even though it left her own dripping vagina empty and hungry. And this time her lack of fulfillment seemed only just in view of her infidelity earlier that day.
She took another fraction of Rick's cock in her mouth, all the way to the back of her devouring tongue. Then she slid the fingers of one hand down under his lust-swollen balls and lifted them gently. She scratched high on the underside of his sensitive scrotum, tickled the hot pocket between his thighs.
She felt his testicles drawing up toward his body. She thought of cannon balls drawing near the breech of a big gun, knew they were getting ready to unload their burden down the barrel of Rick's enormous cock.
Rick's hips were heaving now, thrusting his passion-maddened cock at his wife's face, jamming it into her warm wet throat. He tried to hold back, to keep her from forcing his phallus too deeply into her mouth, knowing it would make her gag if he did. She helped restrain his thrusting hips by pinning his thighs down with her warm, soft torso. He could feel her tits, hard, burning knots, digging into the excited flesh of his thighs.
Amy matched the bobbing of her head to the flexing of Rick's passion-maddened hips. She took as much of his throbbing cock in her mouth as she dared as much as experience had taught her she could without choking. As the violence of Rick's heaving increased, Amy sped up the movements of her head.
He thrust abandonedly upward, and simultaneously Amy pushed her hungry mouth downward. With the fingers of one hand she tugged gently at the saliva-coated skin of his pulsating rod of flesh. With the" fingers of the other hand she pressed against the hard vibrating ridge behind his balls. She felt the heated ridge tremble, felt the semen rush the length of his hardened prick.
A heavy wad of viscous come squirted from the tip of his excited phallus into the depths of her hungry throat, making her swallow reflexively. She began sucking and swallowing frantically as wave after wave of sticky white semen spasmed into her waiting mouth. She felt each hot gob of fluid pour down into her belly to form a warm, muscle-knotting pool in her stomach, which she had never let it do before. Always in the past she had let his cock spurt into empty air, or she had taken his semen in her mouth and then spat it out. This time she was swallowing it as a penance for what she had down with Danny Richman.
She found she enjoyed it, enjoyed ingesting the thick, creamy liquid. The massaging and squirming of her tongue as she swallowed kept his coming going on and on and on, until at last his satisfied prick was pumping dryly into her mouth, its reserves of jism exhausted. Slowly, the convulsing died away and the once-hard organ between her teeth began to shrivel and soften.
Amy spat it out, then laid her head down, Rick's wiry pubic hair brushing her cheek, the come and saliva-coated mass of his prick against her ear. She lay there for a long time until the last hungry convulsions of her empty vagina died away. She had had an orgasm in spite of herself.
* * *
Later, as she was cooking dinner, Amy tried to take stock of her feelings. The first thing that occurred to her was that she hadn't given much thought to anything she had done that day she had just acted on instinct, actually had let instinct control her. That was bad, she knew; bad in everyday life and especially bad in business. One should always be aware of one's motives, she thought. And more important, one should always have motives for what one did, not just act because the body demanded it. She knew there was nothing she could do about what had already happened that day, but she thought that if she applied a little hindsight she might be able to control herself better in the future, or at least make appropriate decisions.
Appropriate decisions, she laughed to herself. Now what decision did I make today? I didn't really decide anything, did I? I saw a handsome guy and let. him make love to me, then did the same thing with Rick, but in that case only out of force of habit. Or was that necessarily true? Even if it were only for the briefest moment, hadn't she thought before she lay down on the carpet with Danny? Hadn't she quickly tabulated the possible benefits to their business deal, to Mr. Robinson's opinion of her, and to her own career? Yes, she decided, even if she hadn't taken much time in her calculations, hadn't taken everything into consideration, she had definitely had her reasons, reasons of which she had been completely aware.
And the same thing was true with Rick. Although her motives might have been different with Rick she was only trying to cement her marriage, whereas Danny had been cement for her new business career she still had thought about it before she had gone to bed with him. She had quickly weighed the advantages of making Rick think that everything was still all right between them, along with the disadvantages of being honest, and had decided that for the moment, at least, hypocrisy was preferable.
All right, she wondered, does that mean I'm losing my morals? Probably so. Is that bad? Maybe and maybe not. She considered what a lifetime of absolute morality had gotten her: a house in Daly City, a demanding husband, and an infinity of dirty dishes to wash. It was only when she had started to break out of that mold although there certainly wasn't anything immoral about taking a job, except maybe from Rick's point of view that she had begun to realize that the world had a great deal more to offer than television and weekend bridge games with the girls. And it was only today, when she had made that little decision to step outside the bounds of morality to get what she wanted, that her career had begun to take off.
Her thoughts began to drift as she absently stirred the pea soup. Yes, she figured, her career would definitely move by leaps and bounds if she could close this deal with the Primordial Ooze. If the rest of the package was no less unpleasant than today's dealing with Danny Richman, she could well afford to soft-pedal her morals a bit to bring about what obviously would amount to a tremendous coup. And what was this business about "Less unpleasant?" Who was she kidding? That little session with Danny Richman had been very pleasant indeed, and the only thing that had interfered with her pleasure were her misplaced guilt feelings where Rick was concerned. Actually, she hoped to get the opportunity to deal with Danny again, and she knew that she would so long as things went all right with this Harry Bledsoe.
A pungent odor wafted up from the stove, interrupting Amy's musing. She looked down to see a horrible blackened mass where once there had been pea soup.
"Hmmm," she said, chuckling to herself. "Must be symbolic."
CHAPTER FOUR
Amy felt unusually bright and confident when she reported for work the next morning, so much so that she found herself singing in the elevator on the way up. The night before she had bought all seven of the Primordial Ooze's hit albums, had listened to them all in order while Rick angrily moved the television set into the bathroom. She had hardly noticed. Although she wasn't necessarily a rock and roll fan her taste previously had run to the sugary sentimentality of Ray Coniff and Michel Legrand she had heard something in the Primordial Ooze's music, something that was at the same time both primitive and sophisticated, and she thought that it had given her some insight into Harry Bledsoe's deepest character.
She broke off her disjointed humming of "Boardwalk Blues" as she parted the oak doors and walked into Robinson and Klein's reception room. To her surprise, Mr. Robinson was there in the lobby, talking rapidly to Ginny as he signed a sprawl of contracts that was laid out on the receptionist's desk. He turned to look around, breaking off his conversation with Ginny as Amy walked in the door.
"Ah, Mrs. Barker," he said. "I've been waiting for you. Would you step into my office for a moment, please? I have something to discuss with you."
Ginny gave her a knowing wink as she passed by. "Talk to you later," she promised. Amy responded with a brief, business-like nod.
Mr. Robinson didn't even take time to sit down when they reached his office. "Mrs. Barker," he said, "I've been thinking over what you told me yesterday. While I admire your courage and confidence, I'm afraid I'm not going to want to be left in the dark about these transactions of yours. I really must insist that you tell me what's going on.
"Mr. Robinson," said Amy, "I understand how you feel, and I'm very grateful for your trust in me so far. But I'm not ready to reveal anything yet. Believe me, I have my reasons."
"Which are?"
"All right," she said, sitting down as Mr. Robinson did-likewise. "If I told you where the negotiations stand right now, I'm afraid you would give up on the project. Frankly, it doesn't look particularly good, or I should say, the only actual figure I've gotten so far is absolutely out of the question. But ... I've made one valuable contact already in Danny Richman, and today I'll be talking with Harry Bledsoe, the leader of the group. Just to have gotten that far is something of an accomplishment, because this Bledsoe is apparently a very eccentric character who almost never talks to anyone."
"Let me set you straight on something, Mrs. Barker. There are only two people in this organization who have the right to decide whether or not an offer is out of the question myself, and Mr. Klein. At no time did I grant you the authority to make such a decision, and if you were under the mistaken impression that I did, then I rescind it as of this moment. Now: what was Richman's offer?"
Amy shook her head. "If I tell you, Mr. Robinson, I'm afraid you would intercede in the deal, or call it off altogether. In either case a proposition that I consider entirely possible would be destroyed. I just don't want to give you a report until I have something concrete; we're really just beginning the negotiations. All I ask is that you give me another week. If I don't have results by that time you can send me back to the Dictaphone."
"You're a stubborn woman, Mrs. Barker," said Robinson, his face grim. "And stubbornness can be either a virtue or a defect, depending on the circumstances." He paused for a moment, turning his chair toward the window. Suddenly, he swung back to face her. "You have three days," he said. "If you don't have results in that time, then I'm afraid you will have gambled more than you thought. I won't send you back to a secretarial position, Mrs. Barker. I'll send you straight to an employment agency, and with a reference that will effectively blacklist you from any similar job in the future. Do you understand, Mrs. Barker?"
"Yes sir," Amy said. "And I appreciate it."
"Hm," said Robinson. "Just remember: three days."
* * *
Boy, thought Amy as she drove toward Bolinas, I really stuck my neck out this time. Maybe I should have just played it safe and told Robbie what he wanted to know even if it queered the deal I'd still have a job, and maybe another chance later on. But her instincts told her that it was now or never, that she could with this one project vault over several years of dull apprenticeship, and that all in all her ploy could turn out to be well worth the gamble. After all, she told herself, smiling as she thought of Danny Richman, I have some tools available to me that Robinson just doesn't have, no matter how good a businessman he is, or thinks he is. She felt her confidence returning as she passed through the redwoods that lined the highway at Forest Knolls.
Following Danny Richman's directions, she soon reached Bolinas and turned off on the dirt trail that led to Harry Bledsoe's secluded ranch. She stopped at the steel gate that barricaded the trail, and leaned her head out the window in the direction of the metal intercom.
"Who is it?" a voice squawked.
"Amy Barker from Robinson and Klein."
She heard a torrent of static, then the voice returned. "This ain't Jack-in-the-Box, lady," the voice said. "You'll have to speak up."
"Got it that time," the voice said. "Okay, just hold it right there."
She waited for what seemed to be a full ten minutes, then the static returned, to be followed by the voice. "Turn right at the first fork," it said.
The huge steel gate swung reluctantly open, and Amy drove through. She turned right at the fork and followed the gravel trail up the slope of a hill, passing first through a small stand of redwoods and firs, then through an oak and madrone forest, and finally out into the sunlight at the top of the hill. Turning to look behind her, she saw the town of Bolinas spread out at the foot of the hill, seeming to inspect the passage of the lagoon as it met with the Pacific. Far below, a group of egrets took off, punctuating the deep blue of the Pacific with the flash of their snow-white wings.
"Quite a place," Amy thought to herself. "Not bad for a few weeks' work every year."
Continuing on the trail as it ran along the crest of the hill, Amy soon came upon the house itself, a huge redwood and glass structure that occupied the very highest knoll. A fourteen foot cyclone fence ran around the circumference of the yard, but the gate was already open. Whistling softly, she parked her car, got out, and walked to the front door.
The door was opened by a tall, brutal looking man with a shaved head who was wearing nothing but a bikini bathing suit, through which the bulge of his cock was readily evident. God, Amy thought, I hope that's not him.
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said, in a deep bass voice.
"Yes."
"Yeah, come on in. Harry'll be with you in a few minutes; right now he's down with the plants."
He showed her to a living room that could have passed as the nave of a cathedral: forty foot ceilings, and a huge expanse of glass overlooking the Pacific. She spent a few minutes admiring the view, then walked around the room looking at Bledsoe's collection of trinkets: a solid gold prayer mantra from Cambodia, death masks from Oaxaca, and ruby-studded dinner plates from Persia, all in all a small fortune in room decorations. The place could easily have been a museum, she thought.
Someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned to see a tall, athletic-looking man wearing a beautifully tailored Italian three-piece suit and a silk tie. He looked like an aristocratic businessman from Milan on his way to see his banker, except for one detail: he was barefoot. His hair was jet-black and neatly trimmed, and he sported a small mustache. Christ, Amy thought, another go-between. When do I get to see the real thing?
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said in a smooth voice. "I'm Harry Bledsoe."
"But ... " Amy blurted.
"I don't look like a rock star?" Bledsoe smiled. "Tell me, then, what is a rock star supposed to look like, so I'll be more appropriate the next time."
"Well ... "
"Like a scrofulitic, lice-infested, sequin-studded maniac, right?" He smiled again, charmingly.
"Actually, yes," Amy said.
Bledsoe chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks," said Amy. "I just ... "
Bledsoe held up his hand. "No apologies, it's perfectly all right. We may as well get down to business. Danny tells me that Robinson and Klein is interested in doing a promotion with us."
"Exactly," Amy said.
"You know how we work? You know that we're impossibly expensive?"
"That's what I came to discuss," Amy said. "We would like to make a counter-offer."
"Mrs. Barker," Harry said. "We don't listen to counter-offers. In fact, no one has even thought to make us a counter-offer for several years now. Our price is our price."
"Well," said Amy, "I'm here with a counteroffer now, and you'd either have to plug your ears the real thing?
"Mrs. Barker?" the man said in a smooth voice. "I'm Harry Bledsoe."
"But ... " Amy blurted.
"I don't look like a rock star?" Bledsoe smiled. "Tell me, then, what is a rock star supposed to look like, so I'll be more appropriate the next time."
"Well ... "
"Like a scrofulitic, lice-infested, sequin-studded maniac, right?" He smiled again, charmingly.
"Actually, yes," Amy said.
Bledsoe chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks," said Amy. "I just ... "
Bledsoe held up his hand. "No apologies, it's perfectly all right. We may as well get down to business. Danny tells me that Robinson and Klein is interested in doing a promotion with us."
"Exactly," Amy said.
"You know how we work? You know that we're impossibly expensive?"
"That's what I came to discuss," Amy said. "We would like to make a counter-offer."
"Mrs. Barker," Harry said. "We don't listen to counter-offers. In fact, no one has even thought to make us a counter-offer for several years now. Our price is our price."
"Well," said Amy, "I'm here with a counteroffer now, and you'd either have to plug your ears or leave in order not to hear it." Before Bledsoe could interrupt, she went on. "We will guarantee you 100 thousand dollars plus five percent of the gross for two shows at Candlestick Park." There, she thought, now it's his move.
"First of all," Bledsoe responded, "I'm sure you're aware that you're offering us exactly half of what every other promoter in the county has been happy to pay. Second, your firm, although I know their reputation in the business world in general, has absolutely no experience in promoting concerts, which all by itself makes it a bad deal for us. Concerts are incredibly difficult, you know."
"I know," said Amy.
"Third," Bledsoe continued, "at the price you're offering, which we'd never accept anyway, you would have to sell out both shows at something like $20 a seat just to break even, which would make it the most expensive evening of music ever offered the general public. We're very popular, but I doubt that even we could sell 100 thousand seats at twenty dollars. So you can see why I have to refuse your offer."
Amy immediately stepped over to where Bledsoe was standing and put her arms around his neck. "Are you sure?" she whispered in his ear.
Harry laughed. "Mrs. Barker," he said, "you must know that sex is a very mundane offer to a rock star."
"Is that so," Amy panted, beginning to do a slow grind with her hips, realizing at the same time that this was not a charade, that she really wanted Bledsoe.
He did not respond, but she noticed that his breathing was beginning to get a little ragged as she continued her slow teasing of his already-hardening cock. She leaned back a bit, being careful to maintain her lewd contact with his groin, and began to unbutton his suit jacket. Spreading it open, she brushed his firm, strong torso with her gentle fingers. It was, she reflected, much easier the second time.
"What do you think?" she asked softly. "Is it worth it?" She tipped her head back and looked into his frank brown eyes.
"It's still a little soon to say for sure," he countered.
"True," Amy agreed. She carefully eased his jacket back off his shoulders and down his arms. She hung it carefully over the back of a nearby chair. "But I'm confident you'll agree with me in the end," she said.
She released his emerald tie clasp, then attacked the neat knot at his throat. As she did, his strong hands gripped her shoulders, then slid down to her ribs. His fingers squeezed her, as if he were testing the durability of her diminutive body.
"I'm not a china doll," she informed him with a calmness that belied her inner turmoil. She stripped off his tie and hung it with the jacket.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned his vest and shirt to expose his chest, which was strong and smooth, with a sparse of black curly hairs.
He stroked his thumbs up over the gentle mounds of her breasts, pressing them through the smooth, cool fabric of her blouse. Her nipples were palpable hard lumps under the cloth. As he tormented those delicate buds, he marveled at the slight woman who was undressing him. Her petite, fine-boned form in his strong hands excited him immensely.
Amy spread his shirt open, running her fingers through the almost kinky hair, brushing them over his nipple. Then she leaned forward and nibbled at his chest, her working lips finding and nuzzling at one of his nipples. She ran her tongue around it, tasting his sweat. Suddenly she became conscious of his masculine cologne.
Pulling away, Amy pulled the shirt back off Harry Bledsoe's broad shoulders. As she did, he began unbuttoning her blouse. He paused a moment while she carefully hung his shirt up. Somehow, Amy knew she had to be meticulously careful with his clothes.
"Beautiful," Harry commented, stripping Amy's blouse off her. As he dropped it, his eyes swept over Amy's graceful, slender torso, pausing on the tips of her breasts, the line of her collarbone, the flatness of her stomach.
Amy couldn't meet his eyes. She hung her head slightly as he studied her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but suddenly she was ashamed of what she was doing with it. She suppressed a shiver.
She tried to ignore this unwanted attack of regret, and reached for his belt. The silver buckle clinked musically as she unfastened it. She unzipped his tailored slacks and the fly spread open. The thrust of his already-throbbing cock pushed his underpants out. His hands were on her again, stroking and petting her silken skin, making her whole body burn with lust.
She wondered if whores felt like this with their customers. She had heard that to them, a fuck was nothing more than just business. Didn't they get hot, burn with passion? Why should she be any better than a common prostitute, any different from a call girl? Because she was enjoying what she was doing.
She knelt and tugged his pants down over his bare feet. After he had stepped out of them, she carefully shook them out as she stood up, then turned to drape them over a chair.
He took the opportunity to unfasten her skirt. It fell around her ankles and she was left in just her filmy panties.
By unspoken agreement, they faced each other as they reached for each other's last garment. Hands slipped inside underpants and panties, and pushed lower and lower into the mutual throbbing heat they encountered. Amy's light brown pubic bush eased into view, as did Harry Bledsoe's black one. His huge, pulsating cock leaped free of his underpants, stabbing straight at Amy's flat, delectable belly.
Then they were both nude, standing there a few inches apart, aflame with their salacious lust. Bledsoe swept Amy up against him, feeling the soft, yielding warmth of her pliant body against his, feeling his voracious cock slide upward along her smooth, tantalizing belly. He lowered his mouth to hers for a demanding kiss.
Amy spread her graceful, slender thighs and clasped on of Bledsoe's muscular ones between them. She scrubbed her wiry bush along his leg, grinding her warm crotch against him. Her tongue met and dueled with his. Then she was off her feet, being carried while the hungry embrace and exciting kiss went on, their legs tangling at every step. Reaching a secluded bedroom, they sank down together on the cool covers of an expansive bed.
Then big hands were fondling and probing and touching her as she sprawled on her back on the bed, and her burning lust made her forget everything else. There was no pretending to her voracious desire. Bledsoe was quickly discovering all the erogenous zones on her passionate, responsive body her aroused breasts and rippling belly, the sensitive insides of her thighs. And he wasn't gentle. He bruised her with his strength and size. He played with her the way a cat might play with a mouse, thumbing and punishing her on the big bed. And she loved it.
She was being driven mad by his passionate attentions. He twisted her already-erect nipples one after the other, and her breasts burst into flame. A hand pressed hard into her tender belly, and her aroused body writhed in desperate, eager response, her fingers clawing blindly at the oversized bed.
Suddenly, he stopped touching her. Amy's eyes snapped open with surprise and she rolled her head to look at him. He was lying languidly on his side, peacefully studying her with his steady brown eyes. His hair wasn't even mussed. The only sign of his interest in her was his monstrous, throbbing erection. His cock was larger in diameter than Danny's, and longer than Rick's. The pale skin of the huge tower gleamed like ivory against the lush black of his pubic bush.
"Wh ... what's the matter?" Amy croaked out. She was screaming with passion, and frightened at the sudden inactivity.
"I'm curious," the man answered. "I'm wondering what makes you tick."
"Huh?"
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, a sweep of his arm encompassing her gracefully nude body. "You're a salaried employee, there's no commission in it for you, so why are you taking all this trouble?"
Amy was shaken by the man's total control.
Why wasn't he pounding that big cock into her? Was she going to lose him now, after all this? "I don't see why that should concern you," she answered softly. Her chest was still heaving with excitement.
"No real reason," he admitted. "I just wondered."
Bledsoe's big hand closed on one tender breast. His hand was so large it completely covered the voluptuous white mound. He squeezed and massaged her breast gently. The softness and tenderness were even more exciting than his earlier roughness had been. He could see her taut nipple poking between two of his fingers, seeking to escape. "I'm going to have you begging me to screw you," he informed her softly. "I'm going to have you so horny you'd sell your own mother out to get my cock in your pussy."
Amy felt a perverse flash of sexual excitement at this announcement. The thought of being a sexual toy, totally at a man's mercy, was incredibly exciting.
Bledsoe smiled confidently. He knew she was looking forward to it as much as he was. He closed his fingers on the aroused peak of her luscious tit and tugged, pulling her heaving breast upward into a perfect cone. When the tender nipple slipped from between his fingers, her voluptuous breast rebounded to its usual firm round shape. The nipple, however, was even harder and sharper than it had been. Her flat stomach was sucked in with excitement, her chest was heaving with her erratic breathing. He held her other arm down, immobilizing it, as he repeated the exquisite torture on her other breast.
Amy's eyes closed. She suddenly realized just how wonderful this torment was going to be. Because the more she tried to fight down her own sexual need, to control it, the more she was lasciviously aroused by his salacious stimulation. It was like trying not to think of food when you're hungry, every attempt only reminding you of what you're trying not to think of. She was aware of the smooth feel of the bedcovers under her naked body, the feel of the cool hilltop air on her bare skin.
Her nipples were pulling from the tugging Harry Bledsoe had given them. Both breasts felt swollen and full, both were aching with a wild need. Amy clenched her hands on the bedspread and licked her suddenly dry lips. She could not recall ever having been so aroused.
Bledsoe smiled confidently at the evidence of her growing lust. And he had barely started on her, too. Her mouth was a slack invitation as she rolled her head gently. Yes, she was an exquisite woman, perfectly proportioned and delightfully youthful.
Leaning forward, he sought one of her fiery breasts with his hungry mouth. First he just brushed her stimulated nipple with partially opened lips. He felt her whole body shudder in eager, aching response. Teasingly, he blew on her excited tit. Then his tongue lurched out and licked the turgid little nubbin, batting it with the tip of his expert tongue, feeling it bounce and rebound excitedly, as if it were made of rubber. She tasted young and fresh and sweet.
The black-haired man closed his warm, wet lips around her aching nipple and sucked it into his greedy mouth. Lifting his head slightly, he drew her lust-aroused breast upward, much as he had before with his hand. He hungrily tongued her tit and sucked on it. He let his teeth close on the nerve loaded button and salaciously nibbled it back and forth. He heard Amy suck in a ragged gasp. Shifting his jaw back and forth, he rolled her aroused nipple between his tantalizing teeth, and felt Amy begin to writhe, felt the bed shifting as her legs thrashed.
He released her breast and lifted his head so he could look at her. Her chest was heaving in mad, abandoned passion. She was rolling her head from side to side, and he knew it wasn't in denial of him. Her cheeks were flushed with passion, her face twisted almost as if she were in pain. But it wasn't pain, it was naked, animal lust.
He lowered his voracious mouth to her other quivering breast and drew as much of that delicate mound into his mouth as he could. At the same time he slid his free hand down her flat torso, down toward the already moistened mouth of her vaginal cavity. But he didn't go all the way there he paused to probe one finger deeply into her sensitive navel.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned.
Amy felt blood rushing to her breast as Bledsoe sucked on it with his rapacious mouth. His tongue rasping over her nipple like sandpaper was building the fires in her helpless body still higher.
"Noooooo," she moaned raggedly. It was a futile denial, one she doubted he had even heard.
She felt his hand, strong and hard and rough, stroking down her tense, lust-maddened belly, and her hips heaved and shifted restlessly. She thought he was going for her pussy, and wasn't sure if she wanted him to yet or not. Then, when he stopped at her navel, she whimpered softly. His probing finger poked into her belly-button, and Amy's body convulsed involuntarily. He drilled his searching finger deep into her sensitive stomach, and an incredible sexual itch erupted deep in her panting body. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before in her life. That single drilling thrust into her navel, a thrust she would have expected to hurt, set off an unbelievable itching deep in the heart of her sexual organs, an itching she knew there was only one way to scratch.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, God!" she yelled in shock.
Harry Bledsoe felt a surge of triumph at her cry. This little woman hadn't seen anything yet.
He twisted his probing finger in her belly, wiggled it in her guts, and felt her body heave wildly. He continued sucking and devouring her small firm breast, sinking his teeth into the tender mound while mangling its tip with his tongue.
Instinctively, Amy's free arm swept up and around. She found the back of Harry's head and tangled her fingers in his straight black hair. She forced his face down hard on her breast. Her hips were twisting and rolling lewdly.
Harry Bledsoe lifted his head, leaving her panting breast shining with his saliva, and the pink imprint of his teeth on her passion-aroused mound. Her nipple was swollen with blood.
"Ohhhhhhh," Amy hooted as Bledsoe withdrew his finger from her navel. The fiery itch in her pussy didn't depart with it, but stayed to torment her.
Harry had a great deal more in store for her. He slid his hand southward, watching it as it drew near Amy's thick brown bush. Her pubic hairs were curly and frizzy, a dense kinky mass that was cut off cleanly across the top. Probably she had to shave her belly to wear a bikini. He combed his fingers through the curls, tugging them out straight, then watching them spring back. He tugged at one strand, watching it pull at her skin as he did. He watched the uneven panting of her chest as he toyed with her bush.
Amy's lust built higher and higher. Why didn't he lower his fingers just a little more? Why didn't he probe her hot pussy, pry into her dripping slit? Maybe the touch of his hand would end the desperate fiery itching in her guts? Amy heaved her hips upward, trying to encourage him to hurry, but it was a wasted effort. He kept his hands tantalizingly distant from her sexual organs.
The big rock and roll star grinned at the way she was blindly seeking relief. He loved the way the muscles in her lovely belly and thighs tightened to lift her hips upward, grinding her pelvis against his hand. The blind mouth of her lust-crazed pussy was hungrily seeking his searching fingers. By lifting his head a little higher, he could see her pouting, bulging labia through her curling hair. There was even a flash of pink where the inner labia were distended with blood and protruding slightly from her hairy, aching slit.
Amy suddenly realized that both her hands were free. She reached out the one Harry had been holding, and the back of her fingers bumped against his hard, strong stomach. He lay on his side next to her. Her fingers brushed through his curly, wiry pubic hair, then touched his erectly pulsating shaft. There, she thought, that was what she wanted, that was what she needed. She curled her fingers around the rigid, blood-engorged rod, and felt the velvety skin slide over the lust-hardened, rippling core, felt the throbbing veins shifting under the skin. She explored the pulsing tower with her fingers. Suddenly, as she slid her grasping fingers over the rubbery glands, her hand was slippery and sticky.
"Want it?" Bledsoe asked softly.
"Yes. Oh please, Yessssssssss!"
"In a bit," he said mildly.
Delicately, the singer teased one finger between her labia and found her already-rigid little clit-button. He touched it very, very gently, anticipating and avoiding the convulsive heave of her hips.
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh," moaned Amy at the feathery, blistering touch of her clitoris.
"Sure you want it?" Bledsoe asked, grinning.
Amy didn't trust her voice any longer. She rolled her head from side to side in desperate need. There was a second searing touch on her clitoris, and her body heaved as if it had received an electric shock.
"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaassssse," she mumbled.
Her entire body was bathed in fiery, lascivious need. She squeezed the cock in her hand and pulled on it, trying to drag the throbbing shaft to the entrance of her ravenous vagina.
"Sure ... you ... want ... it?" Bledsoe repeated, emphasizing each word by flicking his expert finger against her aroused clit.
"Why?" Bledsoe demanded, still pulverizing her aching clitoris.
Amy rolled her head from side to side. Her jaw was working mindlessly.
"Please, please, please," she begged. "Don't do this to me. Just fuck me! Fuck me now!"
Triumphant, the big man pressed his whole hand down on Amy's dripping, starving pussy. He probed his longest finger into her dripping vaginal cavern and was amazed at the flood of juices that soaked it immediately. He cupped and pressed her ravenous pussy and wiggled his finger in her soaking, clinging wet hole.
Amy rolled toward the victor and pushed him over on his back. She squirmed her petite, lithe body over his huge muscular frame, clinging to him with arms and legs, nibbling at his mouth and chin. Then, straddling him, she pushed herself upright. With frantic hunger, she gripped his throbbing phallus and held it perpendicular to his body. She positioned her warm, wet, aching pussy over it, lowered herself until the blood-engorged tip was nestled at the entrance to her steaming vagina. Her face became a blank mask of pure engulfing passion as she lowered herself on the monster tower of purple and white flesh, driving it up into her darkly bushed sex. She spitted herself on it with total abandon. She felt it drive deep, deep into her grasping, dripping vagina, felt it spread the velvety walls, felt it stuff her full.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," she sighed happily as she settled her hips down on the rock and roll star, his raging prick now totally consumed by her vagina. All thought of Rick fled from her as she reveled in the hot sensations of his slippery prick.
When she finally adjusted to having the fullness she had so desperately needed, she opened her eyes and looked down at the man under her. He had his hands behind his head, and was grinning at her.
"You love it, you bastard, don't you?" Amy hissed passionately.
"Now, now," he chided. "No name-calling, please."
"What if I left you right now?" she teased. "You'd be walking bowlegged for the next month."
"Maybe I would," he said, "and then again, maybe I wouldn't.
"You think I'm just another groupie, don't you? A little older, but basically after the same thing."
"The thought crossed my mind," he admitted, grinning up at her. "It gets hard to tell one from another after awhile, you know."
"Mm-hmm," said Amy. "Well, let's see if any groupie ever did it like this." She lifted off him, feeling his prick slide from her, then dropped back down the full length of his aroused cock, making a soggy, squishing sound as it penetrated the deepest recesses of her hungry vagina. "Well?" she said.
"Not exactly like that," he admitted.
"And now I'm going to give you a fucking like you never had before in your life," she growled. She lifted and dropped herself again, allowing the tip of his raging cock to leave her wet pussy, then sliding all the way down it again, landing on his abdomen with an emphatic splatting sound. His beautiful cock felt like a telephone pole in her guts. Leaning forward, she lifted and dropped again, and again, and again. Her excited pelvis rocked smoothly back and forth, making his hardened rod of flesh drive into her at various titillating angles, making it push and tug at the warm, wet walls of her starving vagina.
Harry Bledsoe's face was now shining with sweat. He was more ready for action. It had taken incredible self-control to keep from leaping on this delicious woman long ago and pounding his rapacious cock into her slender, delectable body. She was some woman, all right Old Robinson had certainly known what he was doing when he assigned her this job, and Danny's recommendation had been reliable, as usual. What else was a manager for, after all. But all thoughts of Richman were washed away in a surge of pleasure as his pile driving cock slid past the clinging walls of her warm moist pussy. His hips lifted to meet her, and he drove himself up as hard as he could as she came down on him. Their bodies collided in mid-air and rebounded. Bouncing his hips off the mattress, using the thrust of the springs to increase his own thrust, he slammed up even harder against her passion-crazed, driving vagina.
Amy felt the shock go straight up her spine to her head. Her jaw snapped shut as a blast of lust geysered through her from the impact of his thrusting cock. She reached down between them with the fingers of her right hand and diddled with her clitoris, raising her passion to a new peak of wanton desire. Then the man she was screwing caught on to what she was doing and brushed her hand aside. His thumbs took over the task, spreading the upper end of her labia. Cold air struck the stimulated inner folds. When he pinched and rolled her clitoris against her pubic arch, Amy thought she would go mad with forbidden lust. She writhed in a wild frenzy, making her taut breasts jiggle insanely. Her hips jerked and twisted, forward and back and side to side as she stirred the monster cock around in the depths of her blazing insides. The flame rose higher and higher, until like a tidal wave, an orgasm engulfed her.
"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggg-gghhhhhhhhh!" she screamed. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh my goddddddddddddd!"
She collapsed forward on Harry, exhausted. She was dimly aware of the fact that he was still moving under her, but at that moment, she could have cared less.
Then he pulled his hands from where they had been trapped between them and gripped the melon-like cheeks of her luscious ass. The feeling of the crack of her bottom being stretched and drawn apart sent Amy's mad lust soaring once again. Chill air struck her excited anus, which was still sticky and wet with her excess lubricant. She felt his enormous cock sliding in and out of her moist pussy, and clung to the big body beneath her thighs.
Harry used his grip on Amy's ass to move her in opposition to his thighs. He was close to the fiery blasting of an ejaculation. The feel of her little body sliding and quivering against his was exquisite, exciting him even more in his made drive toward orgasm and release. Her vagina was hot and tight around his aching phallus. He could feel her copious juices on his thighs and fingers.
Faster and faster he humped under her, slamming his raging cock into her willing body. His pubic arch was crunching and rolling against hers at every thrust. Fire was pooling in his loins. He worked closer and closer and closer, and then he was there, the muscles deep inside him spasming and jerking. His body was bathed in fire as he poured his flood of come into Amy's tight little vagina. His entire body ached, and he rammed his prick into her as if he wanted to send itout her mouth. His fingers bruised her buttocks as he held her welded tight against his, until the pulsing and pumping had died away to become nothing more than a salaciously delicious memory. Then he relaxed.
Amy's entire body went limp as her second orgasm faded along with Harry Bledsoe's. She felt totally exhausted. She felt his once-proud prick shrinking inside her, leaving feeling vaguely empty in spite of the copious come he was leaving behind.
"Oh God," she sighed at last. "Jesus!" She climbed off him, the sunken remnant of his prick slipping from her satiated hole. Aching with exhaustion, she sat slumped on the edge of the bed. She felt the bed shift as Harry Bledsoe got up. Finally she stirred herself and began to dress.
"Mrs. Barker?" Harry said.
"What? Amy replied sharply, feeling momentarily disgusted with herself.
"I think you've got yourself a deal."
CHAPTER FIVE
Amy was glad to find the house empty when she came home that night. Rick had left her a note saying that he had gone bowling with his friends, and wonder of wonders, he had left the house tidy and the kitchen spotlessly clean. Must be some sort of apology, Amy thought to herself. At first she felt vaguely guilty, realizing that Rick was trying to make what for him was a very difficult compromise, one that ran entirely contrary to his old-fashioned masculine nature, while all the time she had been busy screwing Harry Bledsoe. But she was too tired to feel anything for very long, and she was only glad that she didn't have to immediately face Rick and make meaningless conversation.
She thought over the day's events as she picked absently at a leftover roast. True, she had gotten Harry Bledsoe to agree to her offer, which gave her something to report to Mr. Robinson well within the three day deadline, but how was she to know that the rock star would keep his word? She had read about the legal hassles and back-stabbing that seemed endemic to the rock and roll business, and now, realizing that she still had absolutely nothing from Bledsoe in the way of a contractual commitment, she began to get nervous. What had seemed like a monumental accomplishment now showed itself to be nothing more than it was: an easily retractable promise made after a quick fuck. If all the promises made under those circumstances were actually fulfilled, she thought ruefully, there would be a lot more marriages and a lot more women driving Cadillacs.
She would have to get Bledsoe's signature on a contract, she decided, even if it took another session in his bedroom to guarantee it. The thought of compromising herself even further was not too appealing, but when she thought about Bledsoe's exciting foreplay and his enormous prick, her reluctance actually gave way to an amorous anticipation. It certainly could be worse, she decided, and calmed herself with the knowledge that Bledsoe would probably go for anything she offered him after he got another taste of her sweet young cunt.
She heard the door open and snapped back to reality at the sound of Rick's heavy footsteps echoing through the living room. Time to play the loving wife, she thought, immediately squelching her distaste and preparing herself for the role.
"Hi, honey," she called out cheerfully. "I'm in here, in the kitchen."
Rick didn't answer, but instead walked up to the kitchen and stood in the doorway looking at her. Even at a distance of ten feet she could smell the stale beer on his breath. Oh God, she thought. Not this.
"Did you have a good time," she said, trying to maintain her nonchalance. "Who won?"
"Who do you think won?" he bellowed drunk-enly. "I don't play to lose, you know."
Amy was determined not to argue. She knew that Rick had a tendency to get blustery when he was drunk, and she knew that he was also overcompensating for having cleaned the house, too proud to admit that he was beginning to see things her way.
"Good," she said, coming over to him, fending her way through the beer odor to offer him a chaste kiss. Then, breaking from his embrace, she turned to walk into the living room.
He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back toward him. "Where you think you're going?" he asked, his voice gruff and demanding.
"I had a hard day, baby," she said gently. "I just want to go to bed."
"You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," he barked. He pulled her to him and pinned her in a bone-crushing bear hug, roughly running his handover her ass-cheeks at the same time.
"Ricky," she complained. "You're hurting me."
"Don't call me Ricky!" he shouted. "I'm not your little boy." He continued his brutal exploration of her body.
"Of course not," she soothed. "It's just that I'm tired." He paid no attention, but rather pulled her even closer, smashing her breasts against his chest.
"Rick," she pleaded. "Not here. At least let's go into the bedroom."
"You'll do it where I tell you and when I tell you," he snapped, bending her over half-back-wards and planting a soggy kiss on her mouth. He continued his back-breaking embrace, planting his already-hardened prick between her thighs and grinding it cruelly into her vaginal mound.
Amy realized that he intended to make love to her right there in the kitchen, on the cold linoleum floor. Rather than fight it and risk another big scene, she acquiesced, but she knew even as Rick was beginning to take her clothes off, that she felt nothing at all for him no desire, no passion, no love, nothing but a desolate and empty place in her numb heart.
* * *
When she stepped into her office on Monday, she was surprised to find among her mail a letter from Harry Bledsoe. She tore it open to find a handwritten note and a thick sheaf of papers.
Hi, the note said. This is just to let you know that I don't say anything unless I mean it.
Dropping the note on her desk, she leafed through the legal documents that had come with it. Editing out the legalese, she discovered to her surprise that what she had in front of her was a contract committing the Primordial Ooze to do two shows for Robinson and Klein under exactly the terms she had proposed. The contract was dated, fully notarized, and signed by both Danny Richman and Bledsoe himself.
My God, she thought, he's really going to do it! Clutching the contract in her trembling hand, she immediately pressed the intercom buzzer for Mr. Robinson's office.
"Yes?" came the boss' voice. "What is it, Mrs. Barker?"
"I have to see you right away," Amy said, trying to keep her voice calm. "It's very important."
"All right," said Robinson. "Come on in."
She practically sprinted into her boss' office. Unable to control herself any longer, she blurted out, "I've got it! I've signed the Primordial Ooze! Here's the contract." She waved the documents under his nose.
"Hold still, Mrs. Barker, so I can read the damned thing," Mr. Robinson said. He took the papers from her and sat back behind his desk to read it, muttering to himself as he did.
Finally he looked up at her, his face grim. "Mrs. Barker," he said, "this contract is entirely unacceptable."
Amy felt her heart drop to her feet. "Why?" she stammered.
"Think about it," he said. "Candlestick Park seats 55,000 people. Even with two shows, at this price we'd have to charge twenty dollars a seat just to meet production costs. Nobody's ever charged that much for a rock concert."
"I know," said Amy. "But the Primordial
Ooze ... "
"The Primordial Ooze nothing!" Robinson barked. "We're taking enough of a gamble as it is by moving into concert promotion with no previous experience. I absolutely refuse to stack all the cards against us by doing it so expensively."
"Wait a minute," Amy said, thinking fast in her desperation. "I've got an idea. What if we seat people on the field itself? We should be able to bring in another 20,000 a show that way and bring the price down to around fifteen dollars. Why not try that?"
Robinson shook his head. "Impossible," he said. "Remember that Candlestick is first and foremost an athletic stadium. They're not going to let their field get ruined by 40,000 screaming teenagers."
"How do you know?" Amy countered. "Have you asked them?"
"No," Robinson admitted.
"Then let me ask them," she pleaded.
It's useless," Robinson said. "They've never done it before, and there's no reason they should start now just for us."
"Let me try," Amy said. "I've gotten us this far, haven't I?"
"Well," Robinson said, "I really don't know how far this is. You've got a contract, yes, but at what cost?"
"Mr. Robinson," Amy said, now beginning to recover her confidence. "The terms of that contract represent exactly half of what the Ooze normally gets for a concert. You may not know this, but those guys hate music. They try to deliberately price themselves out of the market. Now if I can get them to come down fifty percent, I shouldn't have too much trouble with the people at Candlestick."
"All right," said Mr. Robinson reluctantly. "Take a stab at it. But I want you to realize if you don't succeed, we are now by virtue of this contract committed to putting on the concert, either that or refuse to sign it and lose one hell of a lot of credibility. I don't want to be dramatic, but it's safe to say that the future expansion of this firm rests squarely on this deal and your ability to make it profitable. Now that's a lot of responsibility for someone who was a secretary two weeks ago."
"I realize that," Amy said. "And I feel I'm up to it." Robinson broke into a chuckle. "Yes," he said, "I can see you do." He pushed his chair back from the desk, leaned back, and put his hands behind his head. "All right, Mrs. Barker. Go to it. I want a report as soon as you have an answer from the Candlestick people."
"Of course," Amy said. "Is that all."
"That's enough," he said grimly.
* * *
Immediately after leaving her office, Amy called Candlestick Park and made an afternoon appointment with the director. Then she dialed Danny Richman.
"Hey," the young manager said when he came on the line. "Congratulations. That's quite a coup. But then I had a feeling you could handle it."
"Thanks," she said, "but I'm still not out of the woods. Robbie blew his top when he saw the price, so now I have to go to Candlestick and try to convince them to let us seat people on the field so we can bring the ticket prices down. What do you think?"
"Pretty tough," he said. "Those guys treat that field as if it was the Royal Botanical Society. I know they've never let anyone but the football and baseball teams use it, and they've never allowed customer seating."
"Even with a tarp?" she asked.
"Even with a tarp."
"Well," she sighed, "I can't do anything but try. We'll just have to see."
"You might make it," he said. "After all, you've got some pretty heavy guns. Speaking of which ... "
"I'll call you later," Amy said.
* * *
Miles Vachon, the director of Candlestick Park, was a tall, gaunt man in his mid-forties who looked more like the lifelong concierge of a degenerate aristocrat than like a public official. He wore black business clothes and had a detached look about him, as if he had just sniffed a pinch of snuff and was waiting for the sneeze. All in all, Amy thought, a rather formidable target.
His first response to her proposal was an emphatic "no," so emphatic, in fact, that he seemed to be offended at the mere suggestion.
"Fine," Amy said. "I'll accept that, for the moment at least, but I'd like to hear your reasons."
"It's absurdly simple," Vachon began. "In the first place ... "
Amy wasn't listening. She got gracefully up from her chair and went around behind it. As she passed his office door, she casually reached out and locked it. Then she went and stood behind Vachon, who was making a crude sketch of the park on a piece of paper. She unbuttoned the second button of her blouse.
"I see what you're saying," she murmured softly, carefully pressing the soft warmth of one of her breasts against the man's head as she leaned over him. He turned his head, and for a moment Amy had the insane feeling he was searching for her tit to suckle on just the way a hungry baby does.
"Now," Vachon was saying, "we do have a section here where we can bring in portable bleachers, but that only adds about a thousand seats."
Amy eased around beside him and leaned over, her hands on his desk. Her breasts swayed enticingly inside her half-opened blouse. "How many seats exactly," she asked, one eye on his sketch.
"Hold on a moment," Vachon said. He reached for an electronic calculator.
Amy intercepted him, putting her hand on top of his and pinning it to the desk. She turned and looked him full in the face, noting how his color was shifting from pale white to red. "Why," she said, "I'm surprised that a man of your obvious intelligence needs a calculator to work that out." His eyes were watering as his gaze bounced desperately from her face to her breasts. His thin lips where shining.
"It's helpful," he stammered. "Although I certainly could do it in my head if I had to, and probably just as fast."
"You know, Mr. Vachon, you're a very interesting man," Amy informed him in a soft, sexy voice. She was still holding his hand.
"Oh, no," he protested softly.
"Why, you certainly are," Amy insisted, letting his hand go and turning to sit on his desk.
Crossing her legs, she kicked off her sandals. Then she folded her arms under her breasts and lifted and pressed them inward. "Why, I'm sure Mrs. Vachon has a lot of trouble keeping her hands off of you."
"There is ... no Mrs. Vachon," the director mumbled nervously. "Now as I was saying, if we ... "
"No Mrs. Vachon!" Amy exclaimed. "Why, that's unbelievable! Oh, but wait, I understand. A man of your qualities and talents doesn't want to be tied down to just one woman. That's why you're a bachelor."
"Well, I urn, I ... ah, that is ... Yes, I'm a bachelor, as you say," he admitted.
Amy had the feeling that the director was suddenly finding his pants a bit too tight. She wondered if he still lived with his mother. She unbuttoned still another button.
"Now I've got to keep my mind on business," she insisted. "You were saying about the bleachers?" She twisted sideways and leaned forward, giving him a totally unobstructed view of her pale breasts and their pink tips.
Vachon's hand shook as he picked up a pencil. The numbers on the pad were a meaningless jumble. He kept seeing Amy Barker's bare breasts inside her blouse. They were practically in front of his nose, tantalizing soft mounds with pink tips as delectable and exciting as anything he had ever seen in his life. There was a subtle pain in his chest from the sight of this small woman's graceful, feminine torso within her blouse. Any why were his pants suddenly so tight and uncomfortable?
Amy knew she almost had him. She let her arms slide the length of his desk, bulldozing a drift of papers along. The telephone toppled off the desk and bounced on the carpet with a soft ring.
"Yes, Mr. Vachon," the receptionist said tinnily from the receiver.
Vachon scrambled for the phone, picked it up and muttered something, then hung up.
Amy was lying on his desk, on her side. She stroked one leg sensuously against the other. "I'm sorry," she groaned. "I just can't keep my mind on business in your presence. I'm just too hot!"
She unbuttoned the last button on her blouse and spread it open to reveal one heaving breast.
"Mrs. Bark ... Mrs. Barker, wh ... what in the world are you doing?" he stuttered.
Amy was holding her head propped up with one hand. With the other, she reached over and eased the director's suit jacket back off one shoulder and then the other. "Aren't you terribly warm in all those clothes?" she asked softly. It's very warm in here. Why, you're even perspiring!"
"Yes, yes, I guess it is rather warm. The air conditioning must have broken down," Vachon agreed. He shed his jacket with Amy's help.
"I am just so warm," she purred, rolling on her back on the desk. She felt the calendar digging into her shoulder and shoved it aside. Then she sensuously wriggled out of her blouse.
Miles Vachon was at a total loss. He had never, never encountered anything like this! Why, the woman was practically naked! Right in the middle of his desk! And her breasts, they looked so soft and exciting, like mounds of ice cream. They were delicious gentle white hills, with sharp pink points. What would happen if he touched them? They were just too inviting not to. He reached out with shaking fingers and gently brushed the erect pink buds and jerked his hand back when he felt an electric charge streak up his arm. He had never before touched anything so incredibly hot and exciting.
"Oh, yes," Amy hissed. Her passion was by now becoming real. Something about seducing this gaunt innocent was incredibly exciting. The gentle, shy touch of his fingers on her tits made her breasts burn with excitement. She reached down unfastened her skirt. Then she lifted her hips off the desk and eased her skirt down over her thighs, let it slide down her legs and kicked it off.
The wood of the desk was cool against her buttocks, even through her panties. Nearly naked, Amy writhed sensuously on the director's desk. She rubbed the insides of her thighs together, thrilling to the feel of satin skin against satin skin. Vachon's shaking fingers were playing delicately with her aroused tits, making her nipples burn with lust. When he finally engulfed her small breasts with both of his sweating hands, Amy's eyes glazed with passion. God, she loved having her body caressed by a man. It just felt so incredibly wonderfully good to have his hands anybody's hands touching her.
"Aren't you wearing too many clothes?" she whispered softly.
"Yes," Miles Vachon squeaked. "I am, I am wearing too many clothes." Jerking his hands off Amy's sensuous breasts, he lurched up from his chair, sending it banging back against the wall. He tore frantically at his vest. A gold pocket watch popped out of its pocket and swung wildly on the end of its chain as he hurriedly stripped off his vest. Then he was tearing at his pants, his shirt.
His sleeveless undershirt revealed two hopelessly thin arms, and his legs, protruding from the bottom of his boxer shorts, were skinny and knobby. But there was something lurking inside those shorts that was enough to make Amy's mouth and pussy both water. Then the director stripped off his underwear, and Amy gulped. Hanging below the man's skinny belly was the most titanic, incredibly delicious-looking cock she had even seen in her entire life. It dangled obscenely downward, a monstrous pillar of blood-engorged flesh, pallid white with a pink knob. A shining drool of lubricant swung pendulum-like toward the floor from the slit at the tip.
"My panties," Amy croaked. "Take off my panties."
Vachon was licking his lips mindlessly. He was giddy with a lust he had never before felt in his life. He felt his swollen cock swinging ponderously between his scrawny thighs. As he moved around to the end of his desk, his cock rapped against it with a dull thud, sending a painful jolt through him. He reached for the lithe, graceful woman's panties, and hooked his bony fingers in the elastic. He fastened his eyes on her magnificent breasts as he hauled her panties off her, exposing more and more of her beautiful, rippling belly, then a thrilling light brown patch of hair. She lifted her hips up off her desk, and he pulled and tugged the lacy garment down, noting how the crotch seemed to cling up between her glorious thighs. The lace pulled away from her bush, and he could see two pouting lips and a dark, enticing slit between them far between her thighs. Ruffled pink folds protruded from her slit.
This was what the girlie magazines he had risked buying had concealed from him. This was what was really in that formless gray area they showed, or behind the artfully positioned thigh or towel or hand.
He felt as if he were about to explode with charged lust and passion.
Amy let her perfectly proportioned thighs spread, and dangled her slender legs over the end of the desk. She opened herself wide to the man, blatantly exposing the hot core of her sex.
"Touch me ... down there," she urged him. "Touch me! See what I have down there. All for you, just for you." She fondled her excited breasts, pressing and massaging them, rolling the pink erect nipples between her fingers.
Vachon stood between her open thighs, drooling at the sight of her wantonly exposed pussy. He heard her passionate request, and couldn't believe his good fortune. His bony hands trembled with a palsied lust as he reached for her dark, exciting bush. The hair was springy and wiry. He combed his fingers through it, combed the coils out straight and watched how they sprang back to embrace the pale flesh under them. He touched the already-moistened labia, exposing a flash of brilliant, shining pink underneath. He reached out a trembling finger to touch the sensitive bud.
Amy sucked in her breath at the fiery touch to her clitoris.
Vachon jerked his hand back as the woman flinched.
"Again," Amy urged. "Touch me there again. Please, oh please."
He did, and was amazed at her reaction, at the way the flat plane of her stomach heaved. He flicked the turgid button again, and watched
Amy writhe and jerk on top of the desk. Then he went exploring again. There was a deep, thrilling, mysterious looking hole down between her thighs. He probed it delicately, and felt hot juices soak his thumb. A warm, incredibly exciting smell filled his nose as he studied the pink, dripping orifice at closer range.
"Fuck me," Amy urged softly. She was burning up with lust. In her mind she held the picture of the director's mightly cock, poised and ready to thrust voraciously into her willing cunt. She wished he would stop probing her pussy with his hands and fill it with his massive rod of flesh.
Miles Vachon barely heard her impassioned plea. He was more interested in exploring the new territory spread before him. That tight, puckered brown bud between her buttocks had to be her anus!
The realization sent a shock through Vachon. He first felt a surge of disgust and revulsion, but his flaming lust quickly overcame it. Perverted curiosity urged him to explore that intriguing orifice. Delicately, he poked one finger at the tiny opening in the heart of the puckered ring.
"Jesus!" Amy erupted in shock at the unexpected touch. God that felt good!
Licking his lips with excitement, his eyes bulging, Miles Vachon probed that tight little hole again, probing his searching index finger into it with a twisting motion. Something about exploring that foul hole was unbelievably exciting.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, Jesus!" Amy growled insanely. The finger, or whatever it was being worked into her virginal backside, felt unbelievably good! What in the world was happening with this weird little man? How was it that both of them were receiving an education? Amy had thought she knew it all, but the director's innocent curiosity was quickly disapproving of that.
The hole Vachon was probing felt tight and hot and greasy around his finger. But once he got beyond the tight closure, into her unexplored rectum itself, she opened out. He twisted and turned his finger in the hot little hole. When he drew his finger out, the little ring of muscle snapped tightly shut again.
Amy whimpered from the sudden extraction, suddenly missing something she had never known existed. "Fuck me," she pleaded again.
This time the man heard her, and cared, and wanted to. But the entire thing was so totally beyond his experience that he didn't know what to do, and so just stood there between her thighs, waiting for instructions before he made the next move.
Amy levered herself up on her arms. "It's all right, I'll show you, I'll show you," she told him quickly. She eased her ass to the edge of the desk.
"Come," she urged softly. "Come close."
Hesitantly, the skinny director stepped up between her widespread thighs.
Sitting on the edge of the desk, Amy reached down and took his gigantic, lust-hardened cock in her fingers. It was hot, heavy, and pulsating. She lifted and weighed it wonderingly. "God, it's so big," she sighed softly, massaging it with her practiced fingers.
She tugged him closer to her, nestling the blood-engorged purple tip in between her stimulated labia, wedging them open with the gigantic rounded head of his throbbing cock.
"Oooooooohhh," Vachon sighed. "You feel so hot, so good."
"Now in," Amy urged in a choked voice, tugging at the exposed shaft of flesh. She felt her vagina slowly stretching to accommodate the director's massive phallus. The towering pale column that connected her with Vachon gleamed and pulsed as he worked it deeper and deeper into her hungry hole, the distance between them diminishing slowly. "In," she whispered.
"My God!" Miles Vachon gasped. "Oh, my God!" It was unbelievable, the feeling of his engorged, enraged penis being engulfed by her hot, clinging flesh. Nerves he had never known existed were carrying incredible messages of burning pleasure to his dazed mind. Rivers of flame were zooming along his ganglia, making his flabby muscles quiver and tremble.
It was incredible, phenomenal, the way this hot little woman's body took his flaming rod of flesh deeper and deeper in. She felt hot inside, slippery and velvety. He had never know it was possible for two things to embrace as closely as the moist flesh of her vagina was embracing his quivering cock. He could feel every tremor of her muscular tube, every fiber and ripple of the clinging walls.
A hot pool was gathering deep in his guts, a steaming, impatient, too long suppressed wad of semen.
"In," Amy rasped sharpy, releasing the sliver of monster prick still showing and feeling the pulsing head of his blood-engorged phallus butt mindlessly against the end of her lubricated vagina. She leaned back on her arms, her mouth hanging open as she enjoyed the feeling of being so wonderfully full of hot, throbbing cock. She felt as if she had a telephone pole in her, stretching her clinging vagina in every direction. Her hands slid slowly out from under her and she lay back on the desk. Her sharp nipples, rigid with lust, jutted straight up toward the ceiling. The tower in her guts demanded rigidity of its socket, so she arched her back to keep the angle of penetration right.
Miles Vachon's cock was getting used to being held so warmly and tightly, and that was only adding to the searing pleasure of the act. The arching pale tummy and gloriously naked body on his desk beckoned to him. He reached out and stroked his soft hands over her tender skin, over her luscious breasts and her flat belly. Amy shifted, and he felt the walls of her vagina slide around his thundering cock. That was it! That was the feeling!
Experimentally, the director drew back, sliding his monstrous cock out of her. His prick blazed with renewed life from the friction. He pushed back into the hot gripping glove of flesh, and his penis erupted in incredible flames of pleasure.
"Aaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhh," Amy moaned at the feeling of being emptied and then restuffed with the huge, pile driving organ. It was unbelievable!
Vachon drew out again, sliding his now-glistening prick completely out of her voracious hole. Then be rocked forward, ramming his massive rod of flesh deep inside again. Flames rose higher in his groin. It was like the pressure and fires of a volcano building higher and higher. There was an eruption building there, an explosive convulsion that would bathe his entire being in wanton pleasure. All it would take was a bit more of her incredible, salacious stimulation of his raging cock.
He drew out and felt the first pre-tremors of a major blast. Quickly, desperately, instinctively, he rammed his enormous cock deep into the searing tunnel and felt it happening, an indescribable convulsing and pumping of muscles and reservoirs he had barely known existed. Something marvelous seared the length of his trembling cock and exploded from the fiery tip to spatter against the clutching end of Amy's lust-crazed vagina. Bolt after searing bolt of lightning electrified the entire length of his massive phallus, and the backlash seared his nerves with ecstasy. His hips thrust forward, buried the bulbous head of his spewing cock against the end of Amy's fleshy socket. His come pressured through the space, hydraulically separating his flesh from hers.
Miles Vachon gurgled senselessly, his body arching, his eyes bulging as he unloaded ten years of suppressed come into the lithe body on his desk. His muscles squeezed and convulsed and pumped and pumped and pumped until he ached with exhaustion. Then their convulsing faded to a mild quivering. Panting, flushed and sweaty, the director fell over Amy, practically smothering her.
"Noooooo," Amy whimpered. "Not so soon, not already." But it was hopeless. She felt the director's organ shrinking in her still-hungry vagina, leaving her hanging on the brink of her own shattering orgasm. Pleasure faded and was replaced with misery, a hungry ache deep in her guts. "Aaaaaaaaa, shit," she swore miserably, beating on the director's skinny back with her ineffectual fists.
Aroused, he pushed up off her and backed away, his shrinking prick slipping free of her avaricious pussy. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Oh dear God, I'm sorry."
"So am I," Amy muttered.
"I shouldn't have ... I don't know what happened to me. I don't know what came ove me," the bewildered man babbled senselessly.
"Mr. Vachon," Amy said sharply.
"Yes? What?" he stuttered, holding his boxer shorts vaguely in front of himself.
"About the field ... " Amy said.
"What about the field?" Vachon echoed stupidly.
"You'll agree to our proposal?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Amy was still seated on the desk. Deliberately, she posed for him, giving him the best possible view of her deliciously naked body, all skin and curves and exciting softness. "You've had a sample, M r. Vachon. There might be a bonus in it for you if you were to approve our seating plan," she informed him huskily. He had damn well better come through, she thought. She was burning up with unsatisfied lust!
The man got a crafty look. "You mean ... "
Amy didn't say a word. Instead, she slid one hand down her belly to her aching pussy, and slid her fingers into the dripping, soggy swamp of pubic hair. She licked her lips as she played with herself.
Vachon dropped his underpants and scrambled wildly through the papers that had spilled from his desk. His buttocks bobbed comically as he pawed through the litter. Finally he lurched to his feet, waving the agreement Amy had brought triumphantly like a flag.
Turning, Amy reached for the desk set and took the pen from its socket. She offered it to him delicately. She hovered over him, one breast nearly in his face as he scrawled his signature on the contract.
The instant he was done, Amy pulled the pen out of his hand and speared it back in its hole. Then she picked up the form and carefully blew the ink dry. She could see the skinny man's marvelous organ rising slowly to attention as she blew. Flipping the contract casually aside, she rolled from the desk and launched herself at the director. Pressing the full length of her warm, womanly body against his, she kissed and nibbled salaciously at his mouth. She pressed him backward and downward on the gray carpet until he lay in front of her. Licking her lips with excitement, she fondled his hardening phallus. She had to do it, she just had to see what the incredible column of meat would taste like. She lowered her head and took the bulbous cap in her mouth, amazed at how wide her jaw had to gape to take it.
It was warm and pulsing with life. It tasted of fresh come, his come, mingled with her pungent juices. She slurped up the mixed flavors with gusto. Her vagina was squeezing, searching blindly for the monumental meal that had been so unceremoniously snatched away from it.
Holding the mammoth shaft in her hand, Amy straddled the director's hips and lifted herself up over his raging tower. Nestling the blood-filled head in her opening, she lowered herself onto it driving it up into her hungry belly in one steady thrust. She felt as if she was being split open by the huge organ.
"Uhhh," she grunted, dropping the last inch.
"Oh my!" Miles Vachon gasped. It was there again, that wonderful gripping embrace around his penis. He shifted his hips and felt that marvelous hot friction of flesh against searing flesh. The simmering pool was already building deep in his lust-filled groin.
Leaning forward, Amy braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted and dropped, pistoning the marvelous shaft deep into her burning guts. She was close to an orgasm already, rapidly re gaining the fiery peak she had left just minutes before. She loved the slapping squishing sound of her body meeting Vachon's, thrilled to the thick stench of sex. And now there was something else she wanted to try. She took one of Vachon's trembling hands and dragged it around to her globe-like ass. She began working his fingers into the inviting crack between her ass-cheeks.
"You want?"
"Stick your finger up my butt," she ordered harshly.
Vachon didn't have to be asked twice. Just the thought of that vile act filled him with lewd excitement. He sought and found her anus in the sweaty, steaming crevice of her bottom. Her flesh was already slimy with come, making entry easy. He bored his finger up into the tight, resisting opening, twisting and turning it as if he were screwing an awl into her.
Amy lay forward over the sweating director, bathed with searing pleasure from the thundering cock in her vagina and the probing finger in her ass-hole. She squirmed and writhed against him as the level of her pleasure rose higher, and still higher. She groaned and whimpered as the fires of passion roared through her from the itching friction of his finger in her virginal ass-hole and his monstrous prick pummeling her vagina.
Vachon was grunting and sweating as he twisted his salacious finger in the greasy opening. He could feel his cock through her flesh! He heaved, pistoning his pulsing cock in her clinging vagina. The increased frictional stimulation blistered along his nerves, bringing his raging climax still closer.
"Ahhh ... ahhhhh ... ahhhhhhhhh," Amy grunted as she worked and wriggled on the two invaders, grinding her palpitating clitoris to a fiery paste against Vachon's pubic bone. "Awww-wwwww ... I'm com ... I'm com ... I'm commmmmmmiiiiiiiinnnnnnggggg," she moaned insanely, clutching at the director with her arms and her legs and her shivering torso. She sank her teeth in the flesh of his torso as she came and came and came. She was vaguely aware of his hips jamming up against hers. She felt spurts of hot viscous semen slamming against the end of her hidden cervix. Her anus was clenching and squeezing the finger in its grasp as it doubled the pleasure of her shattering, mind-blasting orgasm.
Vachon continued pummeling his rapacious prick deep into the hidden well of her already-satisfied vagina. She never would have believed that the skinny official could have been capable of such wild, abandoned passion. His breath was coming in short gasps as he continued to brutally pound the full length of his desire-maddened cock into her helpless, aching vagina. She responded by raising her luscious hips high up in the air to allow him a more complete access, curling her legs around his chest and back, and answering every thrust with a thrust of her own. Soon, she knew, he would be coming again.
Then, just as she was beginning to wonder if he was going to hold on all afternoon, Miles Vachon began to feel the first fires of his orgasm building deep inside his tortured balls. Higher and higher the flames rose as he grunted out his passion. Then, just when he thought he would go mad with the pressure of it, he felt the steaming sperm begin to course through the full, length of his massive prick.
"Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh," she screamed. "Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhhh!"
Then there was nothing but muscle-aching exhaustion. Wearily, Amy hauled off the director after his prick had shriveled to a feeble limp shadow of its former self.
"Ahhh, me," Miles Vachon sighed as he lay on his back, trying to gather his breath.
Amy dressed quickly, leaving the exhausted Vachon to lie on the floor and watch her. Picking up the signed contract, she made her way to the door.
"Mrs. Barker?" the director called after her.
"Yes?" said Amy coldly, wanting nothing else but to make her escape with the signed contract firmly in her possession.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
* * *
"I don't know how you did it," Mr. Robinson said, shaking his head as he read over the Candlestick Park contract. "One week on the job, and you've already brought off two entirely unprecedented signings. I can't figure it out." He continued reading the contract, going carefully over each clause until he was satisfied that there would be no escape route for the director of Candlestick Park. Then he pulled out the
Primordial Ooze contract and subjected it to the same careful examination. "Unbelievable," he said when he was finished. "Simply unbelievable.'"
"I guess I'm just the persuasive type," Amy said nervously.
"Very persuasive indeed, I'd say," was Mr. Robinson's reply. "Almost abnormally persuasive." He gave her a steady, mildly suspicious gaze.
Amy shifted in her chair. "Is there anything else we need to talk about right now?" she asked. "If not, I'm sort of tired."
"No, that's it," Mr. Robinson said. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"
Amy nodded absently. She stood up and turned to go, but as she did she could feel Robinson's eye? burning into her from behind.
CHAPTER SIX
The week before the concert was a frantic blur of activity for Amy. Mr. Robinson had put her in charge of one of the production crews " you deserve the chance to follow this thing through," he said, "after all the hard work you've put in up to this point." Once again he had given her that half-curious, half-suspicious look.
Now Amy had spent the entire week going quietly crazy, holding endless conferences with stadium officials (Miles Vachon was strangely absent from the meetings, having delegated his authority to an assistant), mediating in running arguments between the Ooze's personnel and the workers who had been assigned by Candlestick Park, taking charge of all Robinson and Klein's interests as the promoters of the event. Luckily, she had not had to deal with Rick: tired of her sixteen-hour work days and the resultant TV dinners, he had taken a week off to go fishing in the Sierras.
Meanwhile Amy's problems seemed to multiply, and she had neither the time nor the energy to solve them as she had solved those with Richman, Bledsoe and Vachon. First, the Primordial Ooze insisted on using its own lighting and sound equipment, which was fine with Candlestick Park so long as Robinson and Klein agreed to pay the stadium for its equipment, which the Ooze refused to use. Not wanting to precipitate a crisis with either party now that both had made what amounted to historic compromises in agreeing to the concert in the first place, Amy finally agreed to pay Candlestick for not using its equipment. Christ, she thought, I feel like the federal government giving subsidies to corn farmers.
Then there was a brouhaha with Asterisk Records, the company which had the Ooze under recording contract. They had decided at the last minute to record the concert for alive album, and had attempted to seal up that aspect of the project by circumventing Robinson and Klein and negotiating directly with the Ooze itself. Amy caught up with that scheme just before it became a legal actuality, and managed to get both an acknowledgement and a few percentage points for her firm by telling Asterisk Records that Robinson and Klein would simply cancel the concert if they were not given their due. Reluctantly, Asterisk agreed, and what had looked like a considerable problem became another personal coup for Amy.
Finally, at the last minute, there had been a strike among the security personnel. The head of security had simply refused to let his men become involved in policing the activity on the field itself, saying that it was too dangerous and that his manpower was insufficient to control the potentially riotous crowd if they were going to be allowed to sit on the field. Since municipal law would not allow a concert to be held without adequate security forces, Amy was forced to hire a private security firm to augment Candlestick's forces. The extra men cost her firm about ten thousand dollars, and Mr. Robinson was none too pleased to shell it out.
Then on the night before the concert itself, the Ooze's bass player came down with a mysterious case of the flu. Bledsoe himself called Amy to give her the news.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but we simply can't play without Hogmeat. Our music is too complicated to bring someone else in at this point we'll just have to postpone."
"Postpone, my ass!" Amy shouted into the telephone. "You just tell Hogmeat that we don't care if he's got beriberi; he's going to play this concert. Because if he doesn't, we're going to sue him for everything he has and everything he'll ever make."
"I'll see what I can do," Bledsoe said. He hung up, only to call back a half hour later to inform her that Hogmeat had been miraculously cured.
"I thought so," Amy said.
Finally the night of the concert itself arrived. Amy took up a position on the side of the stage, close enough to make sure nothing went wrong but distant enough to keep out of the way of the work itself. She watched the sound men set up enough equipment to man a NASA moon shot, then tapped her foot nervously as they skreeked and skronked on electric guitars, organs, and synthesizers until they somehow decided that everything was in good shape. (Amy never was able to figure out what criteria had been applied in the making of that decision; it all sounded like World War III to her.) Her nerves rattled with the endless cascades of music-less sound, the repeated shouts of "testing, testing," the cursing and yelling of the sound men.
By then the stadium gates had been opened and a crush of humanity streamed out onto the field and into the stadium seats themselves. Amy was reminded of Attila the Hun overrunning Poland. Never had she seen so many people trying to occupy what seemed to be the same space at the same time. The first few rows in front of the stage stayed empty for some, reserved as they were for the employees of Robinson and Klein and Asterisk Records, along with the few prominent rock musicians who deigned to attend someone else's concert.
But immediately behind the VIP seats, Amy saw a mass of google-eyed teenagers, all of whom, she imagined, had had to steal hubcaps for a month to get up the price of a ticket. She noticed that a great many of them carried suspicious-looking thermos bottles, and the nervier among them brandished gallon jugs of wine. As soon as they were seated, a dense cloud of marijuana smoke drifted toward the stage.
Great, Amy thought, and the damned music hasn't even started yet. These security guys are going to earn their pay tonight.
The pace of activity on the stage itself became more and more frenetic. Sound men collided with light men, who in turn collided with the record company technicians and the local disc jockey who had been signed as master of ceremonies. Everyone seemed to have a walkie-talkie in each hand, and those who didn't were furiously scribbling notes on index cards. Then, as if by unseen command, all the activity stopped. The sound men, light men, record company people, groupies and assorted sycophants all retired backstage, leaving a forest of microphones and several fortresses of electronic sound equipment standing idly, as if waiting the onslaught of an oncoming enemy army.
The master of ceremonies, an enormously fat man with long white hair and a Neolithic growth of beard, walked to the microphone to introduce the lead group. "Ladies and gentlemen," he droned into the microphone, "Robinson and Klein proudly presents The Manzanilla Stringbean Band!"
A light applause sounded through the massive audience. The Stringbean Band was a folk group which played the sort of quiet cabaret traditional music that harked back to the days of Beatniks, coffee houses, and the Kingston Trio. Robinson and Klein had signed them as lead group specifically because their music was designed to make the listener think of quiet forests and cascading waterfalls. This, Robinson had reasoned, would keep the crowd from getting too spirited before the Ooze themselves arrived. Also, they were not particularly well known, and thus played cheap.
The band took its place and tiptoed into an acoustic version of "John Riley." Looking out at the crowd, Amy could see that only a small percentage of the audience was paying any attention to the band, the rest were busy guzzling wine, smoking dope, and surreptitiously swallowing pills. But their mood seemed sufficiently calm at that point, so Amy stopped worrying.
By the time the Manzanilla Stringbean Band had reached their last number, however, the crowd was growing more and more restless. The sound of thousands of chairs being shuffled simultaneously mixed with raucous laughter and shouting. When the band finished, their departure went almost unnoticed. Somewhere near the stage, someone picked up a chair and heaved it high in the air. Luckily, it landed in the aisle between the rows of chairs, so no one was hurt. Security personnel immediately accosted the offender and dragged him kicking and screaming from the field.
During the intermission a new set of sound men attacked the stage, quickly and professionally rearranging the equipment. Amy went backstage to look for Harry Bledsoe and the Primordial Ooze. Pushing and wading her way through the groupies and open-shirted record company executives, she finally found Danny Richman.
"Where are they?" she demanded.
Danny merely shrugged and smiled.
She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Come on, Danny," she growled. "Don't be cute. You're the one who's responsible for getting them here; now where are they?"
"Hold it, sister," he said, grabbing her wrists. "The Ooze hasn't been on time for an appearance since 1967. It's their way of building anticipation, of psyching up the crowd. Now just relax and stop acting like Annie Oakley, for Christ sake."
Outside Amy could hear the growing sound of clapping and chanting. " Ooze," the crowd shouted, as if with one massive voice." Ooze, Ooze, Ooze!" The volume grew louder with each chant, and Amy could hear firecrackers being set off at least, she hoped they were firecrackers. God, she thought, that's all we need is a shooting.
She turned back to Danny. "I assume you know where they are," she said in a cold voice. "Now I don't care if you have to send a carrier pigeon to get in touch with them, but get them herel"
"Carrier pigeons have been extinct for years," Danny said, turning his back to her.
Just as Amy was about to grab him again, she heard enormous whirring sounds from above and simultaneously a frenzied cheer from the crowd. Rushing back on stage, she saw a huge helicopter settling down into the landing area that had been marked out behind the stage. As the helicopter touched down and the passenger door opened, the crowd went crazy: seventy thousand throats screaming in unison: "OOZE, OOZE, OOOOO-OOOZE!" She caught a glimpse of Harry Bledsoe, amazingly wearing the same Italian suit he had worn the day she had seen him at his house, then saw him duck into the backstage area, followed by Hogmeat and the rest of the band. Knowing better than to interrupt his pre-performance routine, she went back to take up her position in the wings.
The chanting of the crowd grew louder and louder, and did not diminish even when the MC approached the microphone and raised his arms for silence. Finally despairing of making himself heard, he announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, the number one rock and roll band in the entire universe, THE PRIMORDIAL OOZE!" The announcement was all but drowned by the screaming of the crowd.
If Amy thought the cheering had been loud before, she now had to cover her ears with her hands for protection once Harry and his band took the stage. Without attempting to silence the crowd, they launched immediately into their raucous version of an old Fleetwood Mac song, the "Rattlesnake Shake." The crowd went instantly and collectively berserk.
* * *
It was not until the end of the second show, not until the last few charging teenagers had been carried away by the security guards, that Amy had a chance to get at Harry Bledsoe. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the backstage area, drenched with sweat, drinking a coke and puffing on an elaborately long joint. Even the groupies who attended him seemed to know that he was to be left alone at this point, and the gaggle of record company people and assorted roadies kept a respectful distance, chatting quietly, occasionally sneaking a glance at Bledsoe.
Amy, knowing nothing of this post-concert etiquette, approached him boldly. "Nice job," she said, smiling down at him.
He looked up with a hostile glare. Then, seeing Amy, he relaxed. "Thanks," he said, giving her a tired smile. "Not a bad job of promotion either."
Not knowing what to say next, Amy merely remained standing over him, smiling.
"Look," Harry said. "We're going to have a little get-together at my place in about an hour. Why don't you come along?"
"I'd like that," she said, gently placing her thigh against his knee.
Harry nodded. "Just stick close to me," he said. "You can come in the chopper."
Just at that point they heard the chopper motor cough and sputter to life, heard the whirr of the rotating propeller. "Come on," he said, getting up and taking her by the hand.
* * *
Once the chopper landed at Bledsoe's ranch in Bolinas, Amy took the opportunity to breathe. The helicopter had been so jammed with people that Amy had not been able to move, could not even tell who else was in there with her. Now she immediately walked into the house and into the bathroom to catch her breath and straighten up a bit.
When she returned to the living room the party was already in full swing. She knew only a few of the people there: Hogmeat the bass player, miraculously recovered from his flu, was snorting coke with a sixteen-year-old blonde, and in one corner she could see Danny Richman, playfully peeking under the skirt of one of the back-up singers. He looked up, caught Amy staring at him, and winked. "Come on over," he shouted.
Amy was about to join him when Harry Bledsoe intercepted her. "Leave us depart the maddening crowd," he said, slipping an arm around her waist and guiding her toward one of the bedrooms.
Amy put up no resistance. Seeing Harry perform, seeing the sexual magic that radiated from him onstage, had turned her onto him in a completely different way than before. Whereas the first time he had simply been an obstacle in the way of her success, someone with whom she had used her body as a weapon, she was now fired by genuine lust. The urgency of his fingers on her hips told her that he felt the same way.
Once in the bedroom, Harry didn't hesitate, nor did Amy. She moaned in desperation as he slipped his hand inside the V of her dress and caressed her naked breasts, sending flames of lewd desire arching through her love-starved body. Small shivers of wanton excitement raced through her erect little nipples as he rolled them into lust-provoking little nubs. She felt the heat of his rasping breath on her face as he kissed her slightly open mouth, plunging his warm wet tongue between her pearly white teeth. Instinctively, she thrust her own tongue forward, and he sucked it deep into her mouth. Oh God, she thought. His kisses were like liquid fire. She wanted him to hurry, wanted him to ram his wonderful cock into the emptiness of her aching vagina. Already her neglected cunt was throbbing out a heated liquid the prelude to making love.
The rock star eased his mouth away from hers and whispered in her ear: "Let's take our clothes off, little sweetheart."
Unexpectedly, she thought about Rick, far away in the Sierras on his lonely fishing trip. She had treated him badly, she realized, hadn't been sufficiently understanding of his feelings. All she cared about was her own success, which she had guaranteed by using her body, a body that was supposed to be reserved for him and him only. Waves of guilt washed through her, and the conflict left her virtually paralyzed. For she realized that at the moment she wanted nothing more than for Harry Bledsoe to hold her in his strong arms and satisfy the terrible craving in her belly.
"What's the matter?" said Harry, giving her an even gaze as he began to remove his shirt.
She protested weakly, staring at his naked chest as he began unzipping his tailored pants and sliding them down his youthfully slender legs. Then, completely naked, he glued his mouth to hers again, his tongue moving deep into the soft moistness and sparring with hers. Unconsciously, she let her hand slide to his breast, her fingertips raking his tiny nipple, squeezing and rolling it as he had done to hers earlier. An electric sensation shot through her body.
She felt his hand traveling up the tender flesh of her inner thigh beneath her skirt, and momentarily her breath caught in her throat as his outstretched middle finger slid inside the tight elastic leg band and parted the sensitive lips of her vagina to allow the tip of his finger to graze her already hardened clitoris.
Amy froze as her brain fought for control. She couldn't do this to Rick, not again, not when there was absolutely no reason. She wanted to fight it this time, to prove to herself that she wasn't a wanton adultress.
"No ... Harry ... no ... don't ... do ... that..." she gasped, struggling with renewed strength to get away from his tightly entwined arms.
"What the hell's wrong with you?"
"Leave me alone! Let me go! I can't tell you what it is; just let me go!" she snapped, trying to get past him to the door.
Quickly he reached out, caught her wrist in his hand, and shoved her backwards onto the bed. The weight of his naked body pinned her to the velvet bedspread beneath him as he said, "You've suddenly turned into quite the little cock-teaser, haven't you? I had planned to be nice to you, but if you want it the hard way, them I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before." He hooked his fingers in the nylon of her bikini panties and tore them away from her loins with one savage jerk.
"Oh God, no! I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to turn you on. Please, Harry ... please let me go!" she pleaded as hot tears of shame ran down her cheeks. The rock star's only answer was to shove her dress up over her hips and bunch it around her waist. Her ripely voluptuous thighs, the soft brown pussy hair, and the flatness of her white belly were visible to his leering eyes, and she felt his warmly throbbing penis being forced against her trembling vaginal slit as he spread her thighs apart with his knee. Then he raised her legs high, forcing them wider apart, and used the thick rubbery head of his cock to part the fleshy pink lips of her excitedly quivering cunt.
The helpless young promoter shuddered and moaned in undeniable delight as she felt the electrifying contact against the sensitive nub of her clitoris. Then slowly the rigid shaft of pulsating flesh began to sink deep into her involuntarily clutching passage.
"Ooooooohhhhh ... God ... oh!" Amy gasped in lewd excitement as his hotly throbbing penis filled her tight little pussy.
"Now I'm going to fuck you ... you little cunt ... " Harry blurted as he began sadistically slamming into her with mindless abandon.
He came down heavily on top of her, crushing her soft white breasts against his chest. He slammed into her with roaring fury, sending his long virile cock sliding all the way up inside her wetly clasping cunt, pushing the soft moist flesh in pulsating waves of rapturous sensation in front of it. His tight little balls slapped rhythmically against her nakedly upturned ass-cheeks as he sawed his rigid shaft back and forth, thrusting deeper, ever deeper up into her willing belly.
"Oh no! Oh, Jesus!" she moaned beneath him as he speared into her mercilessly. It was like a warm wonderful pole of hard flesh being driven into her erotically throbbing vagina, and she could feel every tiny ridge on it stiffened length as it stroked in and out of the ecstatic hole up between her widespread legs.
"Like it rough and hard?" he asked as he grinned down at her in sadistic delight.
When she didn't answer, Harry snapped, "I asked you a question, you fucking cunt," he roared as he spread her thighs wider and slammed into her with a body-jolting lunge. "Now answer me!"
"Yes ... yes ... Harry! Do whatever you want tome ... punish me ... hurt me ... oh, do it, do it, please! I want you to hurt me!"
"All right, then, beg me to fuck you ... beg me as if you'd never had it before," he roared, continuing to slam his lust-hardened pole deep into the secret recesses of her clinging pussy.
"Fuck me ... " she said in an unfeeling monotone. Her conflict would not allow her to show him how excited she really was.
"With spirit, sweetheart. like you really mean it," he snarled.
"Fuck me, you bastard ... fuck me hard! Fuck me ... " she hissed, spitting out the lewd words as she raked her fingernails across his naked back.
The rock star yelped with pain as the blood oozed from the deep scratches, and he slapped her hard across the face. "Do that again, you little whore, and I'll kill you," he snapped, then bit down on the dress-covered nipple of her firmly up-thrust breast.
But Amy didn't even cry out. If this was to be her punishment for her callous infidelity to Rick, then let it happen, let her degradation be complete. She'd brought it all on herself, and now the only way to purge herself was to allow him to punish her body. She would fight the exciting pleasure and accept only the suffering she knew no other way to make it all up to Rick. Her mind was strong enough to retain control over her body, and she intended to see that it did control it, no matter how good the experienced rock star might feel.
She knew that Harry was waiting for her to stop resisting, signaling the moment when she would begin enjoying his vile treatment of her. But this time he would have to wait until hell froze over! The agonizing conflict in her mind made her moan uncaringly as Harry Bledsoe clamped his mouth over hers, digging his wet tongue in between her quivering lips. He began a slow rocking movement, fucking in and out between her widespread legs, his rock-hard cock scraping against every tingling nerve ending in her salacious pussy. As the heated sensations spread throughout her involuntarily responding body, the tortured young woman instinctively knew she was fighting a losing battle against her lewd, insatiable hunger.
And it wasn't long before her hips began to buck wildly beneath Harry's naked body, and she groaned incessantly up into the moisture of his mouth as she shoved with her tongue, with mindless rhythm, deep into his throat. Loud passionate cries of lewd delight were wrung from her lips as she strained her pulsating pussy up to meet his pistoning young penis.
"Aaaaaagggggghhhh," she moaned.
Harry slaved above the shamelessly aroused young blonde, moving suddenly into longer deeper strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her hotly clasping vagina on the backstroke, and then slamming forward into her wide-split cunt until she felt the harsh slap of his sperm-laden testicles against the naked crevice of her anus. They tossed and rolled across the bed like two animals in their death throes, the movement forcing their lips to separate.
Abruptly, Amy found herself on top of the rock star, and she clamped her knees against his muscular sides, holding him in place, suddenly taking control of their obscenely rhythmic motions.
"Hmmmmmmmm! Want to be boss, is that it?" he grinned up into her lust-contorted face.
"Ooooooooohhhhhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhhggggggg-gghhhhhhhh!" was the blonde's only reply as she bounced her wildly ecstatic pussy up and down on his rock-hard shaft of throbbing, pulsating flesh.
Smiling Harry pulled her face back down to his lips and kissed her, plunging his tongue deep into her gasping throat while she twisted and wantonly spread her throbbing vaginal slit as wide as she could. Her circled pussy lips were throbbing with an excess of swollen tissue, and they were nearly twice their normal size as they lewdly sucked at his thickened hardness.
After a moment, the naked musician pulled his mouth away from hers again and lifted his head slightly in order to look down at her gaping, hair-lined furrow. He watched his wetly glistening penis sliding in and out of her pouting pink cunt, her nibbling pussy lips clinging to his shaft as if reluctant to let it go. Then he looked up into her beautiful, lust-contorted face and saw her eyes grow vacant and smoky as she started the slow climb toward orgasm.
The sight was too much for the virile Harry Bledsoe, and he quickened his thrusts, hot and deep up into her belly. The tormenting hunger up between her legs caused Amy to thrash above him, and she rode his hard young cock as if she couldn't get enough of it, couldn't take it in fast enough or deep enough.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhh ... aaaaaaahhhhhggg-ggghhhhhh . . " she chanted as she raced the final lap to an insane climax, and felt his thickened shaft expanding inside her ecstatic vaginal passage.
"Oh ... shit ... fuck ... ohshit ... I'mcom ... I'm commmmmmiiiiinnnnnnngggg," Harry roared as he grunted and groaned, his buttocks grinding up off the mattress, stabbing his wildly ejaculating cock upward into the hidden recesses of her womb.
Amy was a blistering mass of delightful pleasure deep inside her burning loins as the overpowering pressure built inside her. She was only vaguely aware of Harry Bledsoe's fingers playing now with her throbbing cuntal lips, and the hot slippery friction as he tweaked at her sensitive, lust-maddened clitoris threatened to unhinge what was left of her mind.
"Harder ... harder ... Harrry ... don't take it out," she gasped. "I'm almost there. Keep fucking! Oh God, don't stop!" She breathed a grateful sigh when she felt his already-renewed erection.
At that precise moment, Danny Richman and Hogmeat came staggering into the darkened bedroom where Amy and Harry were lewdly writhing on the velvet bedspread.
An obscene snicker penetrated Amy's lust-deafened mind, and her body momentarily froze in mid-stride as she stared around to see who it was. When she saw the hot glittering eyes of the manager and the bass player, she felt her heart lurch painfully. Had Harry betrayed her? He had never given her even a hint that he had planned anything in the way of a group session. In spite of her initial rush of anger and disappointment, she felt the sudden jolt of lewd excitement even greater than anything she had experience before as she realized that for the first time in her life someone was watching her fuck.
Harry grinned up at his two friends and raised his hand in salute. Immediately, Danny moved over beside the partially naked blonde and began to caress her sensuously quivering buttocks. Standing about six feet away from Amy and the two men, Hogmeat stood with his pants unzipped, frantically tugging at his monstrous cock.
Amy felt the eager fingers tugging cruelly at her exposed ass cheeks while one finger probed at her defenselessly puckered anus, teasing at the tiny opening as she began uncontrollably bouncing up and down on Harry's virile cock again. She winced as an outstretched finger suddenly popped through the tightly surrounding nether-ring and dug at the spongy flesh inside.
"Ooooooohhhhh ... yes ... yes ... hurt me ... destroy me ... torture me!" She spat out the words as she clenched her teeth in agony. The pain was so delicious, so exciting she had to have more.
And then, almost at once, the pain began subsiding and a tingling joy took over. The final debasement and ravishing of her rectum caused masochistic sensations of lewd pleasure to surge through her body. Hogmeat pounded his aching pud still harder as Danny removed his finger from her tightly puckering anus. Then, he lifted the skirt of the kneeling woman's dress and pulled it upward over her nakedly swaying breasts, resuming his frantic tugging of his lust-aroused erection. Amy lifted her arms high in the air, never missing a stroke as Harry's rigid penis punched up into her frantically quivering cunt from below. She was so aroused that she really wasn't consciously aware when the confining dress was pulled over her head and tossed to the floor. All she knew was that she was more excited than she'd ever been in her life.
"Oh yes ... take me ... play with me ... fuck me ... do it all ... everything ... " she moaned in mindless lust as Danny's hand returned to caress every inch of her now-naked flesh, and she began reaching for that magic apex of sensation. Once again she was about to come when suddenly the door splintered from a powerful blow outside, then, with the lock broken, crashed inward against the wall.
"So this is how you did it, you goddamned whoring bitch," came a deep voice. Oh my God, thought Amy in a daze, it's Mr. Robinson! The deep anger in his voice was equal to the sting of a whiplash. Everyone in the room froze. Danny had his hand glued to the naked woman's flesh, while Hogmeat stared in horror, his blood-engorged cock still throbbing in his hand. Harry lay unmoving underneath Amy, his virile young cock beginning to wilt at the look of rage on the older man's face.
Amy cowered down against the rock and roll star beneath her, covering her head as if protecting it from a blow she knew was sure to come.
"So this is how you pull off your deals," he raged. "No wonder you did so much so fast. I had a feeling that something like this was going on," he rasped at the shivering blonde. "You perverted little bitch, you've blackened the name of my company forever!"
Then, staring around at the other men in the room, he snarled, "Up against the walls, you slimy bastards! I'm going to show you ass-holes something you won't ever forget!" The older man's angry voice vibrated through the room with demanding authority, and Richman and the bass player moved back against the wall on the far side of the room, both looking as if they were about to bolt.
"Please, Mr. Robinson ... go away ... just go away," Amy looked up and pleaded.
"You shut up, you conniving little bitch," he snapped. Then he ordered, "You," pointing at Hogmeat. "Come here, you filthy bastard."
Hogmeat haltingly stepped forward, forgetting in his trembling anxiety to put his rapidly-wilting cock back into his pants. With a violent movement, Mr. Robinson slammed the bass player in the jaw with his ham-like fist, watching with enraged satisfaction as the long-haired musician fell back against the wall and crumpled to a heap on the floor. Danny and Harry both gasped as they saw the bass player slide into unconsciousness.
"Now for you. you little bastard," he said, pointing at Harry, who was lying paralyzed with fright beneath the badly trembling blonde. "You get right back to fucking. And I do mean FUCKING!"
"But ... but..." stammered Harry, "I ... I..."
"Don't but me," yelled Amy's enraged boss. "I said fuck! NOW!" Robinson rasped as he bent downward and put his finger on the rock star's nose. "Now!" he repeated. "Get moving, quick!"
Harry jumped in sudden fear. Jesus, he thought. This old son of a bitch was obviously a mean devil, and in his enraged state of mind he might do anything. Hogmeat was already unconscious, Richman was over against the wall pissing his pants in fear, so he'd better play along for the time being. The other two were safe enough if they just stayed put, but would they help him if the old cocksucker became violent? He doubted it, and decided to cooperate.
Mr. Robinson moved up behind Amy's nakedly shaking buttocks and felt his anger begin to fade as he stared down at her beautiful curving ass-cheeks. God, but she was an exciting bitch! Why hadn't he tried her out before, especially when he'd suspected all along that she'd been fucking her way to success? Hell, he could do a lot better job with her than these kids; why hadn't she approached him first? Suddenly his anger returned full force and he hated her, yet he wanted her, too.
"You're nothing but a little whore," he grunted, "and I'm going to treat you like one." He said it ominously, through clenched teeth as he angrily lowered his hand to her sweat-streaked anal crevice and began probing at the tiny puckering hole with the tip of his outstretched finger.
"Oh ... please," Amy moaned as her sphincter muscle tightened in frightened defense.
"Shut up," Mr. Robinson growled. "I saw that long-haired son of a bitch over there reaming out your ass-hole with his finger. Now let a real man show you how it's supposed to be done."
"Uh, look, Robinson or whatever your name is," Harry said with mock bravery, "why don't you just leave, and we'll forget about the damages you owe us for breaking our door down."
"The hell you'll forget," the older man snarled. "When I'm through with you, you little fuck heads won't ever forget me, I promise you that."
Harry Bledsoe swallowed audibly, and began fucking as ordered.
"Please, Mr. Robinson! Let these people go, and then you can do whatever you want with me."
"Look, woman, they're as much to blame for this as you are. I'm going to show you what perversion really is, and they're going to stand there and watch. I'm going to fuck you in your pretty little ass-hole, and if either one of these shitheads tries to leave, I'll do the same thing to them," Robinson growled, feeling his long hard cock pressing painfully against his tight pants. The lewdness of what he was planning made his loins burn with an obscene fire. "As for you, Bledsoe, you scummy rock and roll bastard, you're going to fuck her in her conniving little cunt while I'm blazing a trail up her rectum."
"No! Oh, no! Mr. Robinson ... please don't do that to me! I can't take that huge penis of yours inside my anus. It'll split me wide open! You're too big, too big ... " Amy was faint with fear. His cock was so gigantic that it looked as if it would tear her apart even if he only stuck it in her vagina. He would surely kill her if he tried to put it into her tiny little rectum.
"Tough shit," he snorted. "You deserve every bit of it and more. You see," he added in a vicious tone, "I'm going to do the same thing to you that you've done to my business, and I don't particularly care what it does to you after what you've done to me. Get it?"
"Mr ... " Harry Bledsoe started to say, but he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence.
"Shut your mouth, longhair. Just stay quiet and fuck, and you'll be safe. And if you think you can cause me any trouble because of this, just remember that I've seen a hell of a lot here tonight, and I can ruin you just as easy as you can ruin me. So just keep your mouth shut and do what I say," the glaring executive growled menacingly, his eyes taking on a strange glaze. The thought of sodomizing this beautiful woman had filled him with an uncontrollable lust, and his semen-churning balls ached with an implacable desire. All he could think of was her tightly puckering little orifice peering up at him from between the soft white mounds of her ass-cheeks.
Harry Bledsoe stared as the older man withdrew his hand, unfastened his pants, and quickly dropped them to the floor, not even bothering to take them off his feet. His thick rigid penis sprang out from his loins, and the huge, angrily-inflamed cock-head was poised only inches from Amy's widespread naked buttocks.
Robinson shuffled closer to Amy's cringing ass-cheeks and used his right hand to separate the fleshy mounds while with the other hand he pointed the lust-swollen tip of his hardened shaft at the tiny opening to her rectum. He began pressing forward, then cursed as his penis slipped away. He repositioned his throbbing hardness and pushed again. Sweat popped out on his forehead as he strained forward in an effort to make penetration. But no matter how much pressure he exerted against the kneeling blonde's wildly quivering anus, he could not penetrate.
"Amy, baby, you really do have a tight little ass-hole. But there are ways around that," Robinson observed. The older man drew back about three inches and dipped the middle finger of his right hand in the heated flowing cuntal juices running down the inside of her shaking thighs. Then, he began to stroke the full deep slit between her buttocks with obscene glee, spreading the lubrication back and forth. Just as the terrified woman was beginning to relax, he suddenly rammed the tip of his finger just inside her tightly clenching rectum.
"Oh my God, Mr. Robinson ... don't ... that hurts ... " Amy yelled with pain as she thrashed and writhed, trying to force the invading finger from her tortured hole. "Oh ... it hurts!"
"No shit," Mr. Robinson grinned, reveling at her cries of anguish. He felt the tight elastic sphincter muscle give way, and his middle finger slid up to the first knuckle as the soft inner passage closed around his outstretched finger like a second skin. Jesus Christ, if it's that tight on my finger, what the hell is it going to feel like on my prick, he thought.
"Oooooooohhhhhhh ... noooooo," Amy moaned as she clenched her buttocks as tightly as possible, trying to expel the invading finger.
No longer smiling, Robinson pushed down with great force and his middle finger popped through the remaining muscles, impaling her tight little hole until his palm was pressed against her nakedly trembling ass-cheeks.
The tortured blonde wailed continuously now as the pain tore at her rear end and completed her humiliation. Through tear-dimmed eyes she saw the wide-eyed and obviously terrified Danny Richman standing against the far wall, with Hogmeat just beginning to regain consciousness beneath him. Danny was staring at the lewd spectacle in front of him, like a frozen statue unable to move, and Amy's face burned with shame as she helplessly knelt over Harry's naked body beneath her, while her boss mercilessly impaled her defenseless rectum from behind.
The older man began sawing his finger in and out of her tight anal passage, digging into her tender virginal flesh. A moment later, he forced still another finger into her wide-stretched anus, ignoring the pleas and tears of the suffering girl.
Harry Bledsoe was glued to the mattress from the force of the powerful older man holding them in place, but also the salacious scene of Amy being fucked in the ass-hole by the man's outstretched finger made his youthful cock begin to swell and grow into an even greater rigidity than before. Slowly, the rock and roll star began to move his newly-excited erection, and soon he was plunging in and out of the kneeling blonde's hotly clasping pussy with an ardent vigor that was entirely new to him.
The pain had diminished now that Amy had adjusted to the relentlessly thrusting finger deep inside her rectum, and in spite of her terror, she was soon moaning little animal sounds of pleasure as her suffering changed to lewd masochistic shivers of desire. When she felt Mr. Robinson withdrawing his outstretched finger from her tightly clenching anus, she felt a strange disappointment. An emptiness that needed to be filled with something.
But as Harry began slamming his wildly virile young penis up into her throbbing vaginal cavern, the wanton blonde soon forgot about the emptiness in her puckering anal passage. The slender hardness thrusting in and out of her wildly rejoicing cunt, rubbing against her erect clitoris on every wonderful stroke, was all she needed. All she ever wanted, no matter what!
Behind the nakedly kneeling blonde, Mr. Robinson placed both hands on her pumping ass-cheeks and used his thumbs to pull apart the soft glistening mounds to expose her wetly puckering little hole. He slid his lurching, blood-engorged cock back and forth through the freely flowing moisture from her pussy, preparing once again to enter her anal passage. Momentarily he paused, then leaned forward again so that his swollen cock-head pressed against her tiny defenseless hole.
Amy began to shake with fear but at the same time she was inundated with obscene lust as the older man's massive rigid cock pressed against her anal opening. Ohhhhh, God, he was going to split her rectum to vagina with his huge rod of male flesh! She was on fire with desire, but only for Harry Bledsoe's youthful penis already buried to the hilt in her greedily sucking cunt. She didn't want Robinson and his massive thickness invading her virginal cavity, but she couldn't think of any way to stop him, not if she wanted to save her job and career.
With a lewd sigh of pleasure, the executive brutally thrust his hips forward, and with one violent lunge, plunged his monstrous hardness far up inside Amy's virginal rectal passage, ramming mercilessly through the tight little hole, sadistically stretching the agonized sphincter muscles wide ... wide ... until he had buried his thick pulsating cock deep up inside her hot buttery rectum, feeling the delicious satisfaction of his brutal penetration.
"Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhh!" Her shriek echoed through the room.
Amy gasped with pain and felt her consciousness fading from the unbearable torture in her insidiously impaled anus. She fought to keep from fainting as she clenched her quivering buttocks tightly, as tightly together as she could, trying to rid her bowels of the thickened shaft of male flesh.
With one last shuddering growl of lewd delight, Robinson rammed forward and his sperm-swollen balls slapped against her moist cuntal slit. It was only then that he realized that he was as far inside her tight little hole as he could possibly go. He held her nakedly squirming buttocks against his bristly pubic hair and gasped for breath, the shivering heat of her virginal little rectum almost blowing his mind. God, he thought, this is some hot little bitch!
The sadistic rape of her inflamed rectum threatened to unbalance the helplessly kneeling young woman. Never before had she been so agonizingly filled. His hot throbbing cock seemed to grow longer, pulsate faster, with each painful second. Then he brutally flicked the skewering instrument, forcing it even deeper into her cringing sheath.
It was impossible for her to believe that the tormenting pain shaking her entire body could get any worse. But it did! She groaned again and again as Robinson experimentally jabbed the head of his lust-thickened cock into the soft rubbery lining of her invaded anal passage. Satisfied that he was as deep as he could go, the executive slowly withdrew his rock-hard shaft almost all the way out, feeling her anal lips pout out as they clung to his pulsating penis. Then, with lust-glazed eyes, he stared at the obscene spectacle as his wildly excited hardness slowly disappeared again deep inside her belly.
"Goddamn! You're so tight! Oh, fuck! Hey, you rock and roll punks! Do you see your little girlfriend getting it in the ass?" His eyes rolled back in his head, and with a vicious grin on his face, he began to fuck out of control, sadistically sodomizing the wailing girl from behind with his rapacious prick.
"Please ... Mr. Robinson ... I beg you! Don't punish me any longer!" Amy wept as the pain destroyed any feeling of ecstasy she'd felt from the handsome rock star's virile young penis tightly embedded up inside her wetly clenching vagina.
Harry Bledsoe could feel the older man's massive cock sawing back and forth against his own lust-hardened shaft up inside her belly, and he could hardly believe the lurching male above her was actually fucking his own employee in the ass-hole. Must be some office they've got going over there at Robinson and Klein, he thought. Staring at the carnality while slamming deep up into Amy's hotly twitching cunt from below, the rock star's penis burgeoned out with a new excitement as he was forced into making harder, deeper strokes. He knew that Amy must really be suffering from the painful sodomy, but his own lewd desire overrode any feeling that he should help her. Besides, the powerful older man would only knock the shit out of him if he tried. And that in itself was enough reason to just lay there and fuck as he had been told to do. He turned his face toward his two friends lined up against the wall and a grin covered his handsome face as he saw their lewdly staring eyes burning in disbelief and carnal anticipation.
"Take that ... and that ... and that ... Robinson snapped through gritted teeth as he slammed his hardened shaft in and out of the young woman's tortured rectum. "This is how you treat a whoring bitch, you hear me? You fuck them in the ass-hole until they scream for mercy. It's the only cure!"
Robinson's eyelids fluttered with uncontrollable pleasure as the nakedly kneeling blonde futilely twisted beneath him in an effort to throw him off balance and dislodge his pulsing thickness from her stretched anal opening. But Amy's frantic writhing only caused the brutal sodomy to worsen as she accidentally bucked her mercilessly impaled rectum backwards, ramming the thick rod of flesh further than ever into her forever-stretched anal passage.
"Goddddddddddd," she wailed out the last of her protests as she realized the helplessness of her lewd position.
She lay sandwiched between Harry Bledsoe and her boss in total degradation; unable to move without having a lunging cock bury deeper into one of her completely filled passages. She was suffering impossible pain, but it was only ironic justice. She had used her body to enhance her career, and now this awful punishment was being heaped on her tortured body without hope of ending it.
Despair had dulled her brain to the point where it was almost a minute before the weeping young woman realized that the pain was diminishing, just as it had before. She frowned. Had her mind simply blocked it out? No! It was true! It didn't hurt any longer! Evidently her torn and stretched anus had grown accustomed to the thick length of cock buried deep up inside her belly. And then, as Robinson began a steady sodomizing stroke in unison with Harry Bledsoe's virile penis sawing back and forth inside her wetly clasping vagina from below, she even began to feel an unexplainable ripple of pleasure coming from her ravished hole nestled in the crevice between her quaking ass-cheeks.
Her suffering groans became gurgling moans of lewd delight as her brain reeled with confused impressions. The older man's penis actually felt good shoved all the way up inside her stretched rectal channel! It was a dark, forbidden perversion, but it did feel good now; and even though she was no longer suffering, her mind refused to accept the thought that she could actually be enjoying an act of perverse sodomy.
Her long blonde hair shimmered across Harry's face below her as she bounced up and down, backwards and forwards, a sensual blur of rhythm, luxuriating in the lewd twin fucking and the pleasure surging through her forever-stretched rectum and the strange attentions of the rock and roll star whose wonderfully throbbing penis was nudging her cervix on every stroke.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhhh! Yessssss! Fuck me, Harry darkling! And fuck my ass-hole, Mr. Robinson, you bastard," she heard the lewd words pour from her mouth and lust-constricted throat, but she had no control over them.
Harry heard her mindless cry as she slammed downward onto his rock-hard cock, and then lifted backwards against the older man's thick impaling penis. It was hard to believe that she was really asking to be sodomized. Maybe her fucking mind had already snapped. The incredible pressure increased inside the rock star's sperm-swollen testicles and almost drove him out of his mind as her enjoyment of the double ravishment became an undoubtable fact.
"Shit ... oh shit ... aaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh! God damn it! Your pussy is too tight ... and it's so good ... and hot!" the rock star moaned gleefully, knowing that his raging climax was going to overtake him in seconds. "Jesus!" he moaned again.
"Yes ... yesssss ... fuck my cunt, Harry, darling ... my sweet Harry! Harder! Harder! Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh," the blonde wailed.
"I'm about to blow my fucking head, sweetheart. Put your ass in gear if youwant to come with me," the handsome musician groaned as he used all his mental power to hold off his impending orgasm.
"That's it! Look at her go, you ass-holes. That's what a woman looks like when she's getting with it," Robinson crowed lewdly as he gripped Amy's nakedly lurching hips, hanging on for dear life as she slammed him backwards into his loins, almost throwing him off balance on every stroke. "This little woman's a goddamned fucking machine," he yelled triumphantly.
But his grin faded almost immediately, and he began panting as he pistoned his thick hardness deep into her wildly rotating buttocks.
Amy moaned continuously now as the naked rock star impaled her hotly pulsating vagina from below while her boss from Robinson and Klein skewered her frantically puckering anus from behind. With a sure instinctive knowledge, the subserviently kneeling woman knew that she too was headed for a final explosion that would be greater than anything she'd ever experienced before in her life, and the hell with what came later.
Abruptly then, Amy felt a quivering in her writhing belly, and she began to buck with an insane strength between the rock star and the older man. Their naked flesh was covered with fine beads of sweat, and their bodies made wet slapping noises as they all three slammed together in the obscene dance of love.
"Baby ... goddamn son of a bitch! Fuck, woman ... I'm about to blow my lid ... aaa-aaaggggggghhhhhhh," Harry roared.
Suddenly, both lust-maddened males quickened their thrusts, hot and throbbingly deep as the shamelessly excited young blonde jerked her body uncaringly between them. They grunted and hissed, their lust-devoured bodies mingling as they writhed together, ready to explode with never-ending streams of warm white come.
Amy's naked swaying breasts were swaying back and forth across Harry's masculine chest as she squirmed up and down in ecstatic joy. And then, suddenly, she was shaking, no longer in control of her body, lewdly vibrating from head to toe between the two sandwiching males.
Her moistly throbbing little pussy opened up around the rock star's massive erection, and warm spewing gushes of her come flooded around his rapidly thrusting penis. Harry pistoned his hips up and down, rapidly fucking deep inside her quivering belly as the lips of her tightly convulsing cunt worked and sucked at his desire-inflated cock as though trying to pull it out by the roots.
"Oh God ... Oh Christ! Sweetheart ... harder ... fuck me harder ... I ... I ... I'm commm-mmmm iiiiiiiiiiggggggg! Aaaaaaaahhhhggggg-ggghhhhhhh! I'm cooommmmmmmmiiiiiinnnn-nnnggggg!" Amy wailed.
At the same time, feeling as though her spasming sphincter muscles were squeezing the head off his thick pulsing cock, Mr. Robinson groaned, "Oh Jesus! Oh Christ! I can't hold it any more! Aaaaaagggggghhhh! Ooooooohhhhhhh! Damn! Here it comes! I'm coommmmmiiinnnnnggnnggg! It's all yours, bitch!
He spewed his load of hot sticky come high up into her wildly sucking rectum and continued to groan in lewd delight until every drop of life-giving sperm had been sucked from his slowly collapsing penis.
Amy's throat was swollen and her breath rasped through her widened lips in short desperate moans as she felt the older man's wildly jerking cock explode deep up inside her helplessly ravaged anus. The tight muscular lining of her helplessly ravaged anus. The tight muscular lining of her vaginal passage clutched at Harry's bulldozing ramming cock, and he growled in abandoned passion, "Aaaaaaaaaa-aagggggghhhhhhhhh! Sheeeeeeeit! Man, I'm coming too! I'm ... comminnnng! Oooooohhhh-hhhhhhh!"
Harry plunged deep into the succulent woman's tightly clasping pussy with all his virile strength, almost squeezing Robinson's limply imprisoned flesh from her puckering anal passage. The warm white jets of his fresh semen flooded her quivering vagina just as he heard her scream out her second orgasm. "Oh my Goddd-ddddd!" she screamed. "I'm coming again.! "
Harry continued to slam his still-hardened cock in and out of her wetly twitching cunt until his youthful erection grew soft and slid downward, backing out of the hot little hole with a lewd slurping sound, leaving a thin stream of come flowing down her naked loins onto the velvet bedspread beneath her.
Amy's exhausted body quivered like a wounded animal, and she mumbled meaningless words of rapture as she felt the rock star's virile man-flesh sliding from her come-inundated cunt. When she felt him completely withdraw, she collapsed on top of his stilled body. The foamy white sperm trickled out of her fluttering vaginal passage and puddled on his pubic hair before dropping onto the stained velvet bedspread between their naked bodies.
As their orgiastic fluids mixed, joining them together, she knew in a sudden flash of lucidity that this had been her last extra-marital experience, that neither the famous rock star nor the rich executive mattered to her now. From this point forward she belonged to Rick, and to Rick only never mind the immediate past, she would be his for all time in the future.
Her boss withdrew from her ravaged anus and sat in exhaustion on the bed beside her. As his heated come flowed from her reddened hole and dripped down her trembling thighs, she didn't hate him for what he had done, didn't feel anything for him. He didn't exist as far as the future was concerned.
If she wasn't so exhausted, she thought, she'd get up right now, put on her clothes, say good-bye to Harry Bledsoe and the rest of them, and go right home to her husband. She knew that the waves of guilt she was feeling could never be assuaged, but she also knew that she could make it all up to Rick by becoming what she had been before a gentle, loving wife. The career that had seemed so important to her up to now suddenly lost all its glitter, all its value. The only thing that mattered to her was keeping her marriage intact and giving Rick the emotional support he so obviously needed.
By now Harry Bledsoe had begun to catch his breath and was sitting upright on the bed with a salacious grin on his face. "Congratulations, old man," he smirked at Robinson. "You sure know how to get a party going." Then, turning to Amy, he said, "And you, honey, when are we going to promote another concert?"
Amy glared at him. "As far as I'm concerned, never!" she said.
"You can say that again," said Mr. Robinson as he began to zip up his trousers. "As of now, Mrs. Barker no longer works for Robinson and Klein."
"Thank God," Amy said. She got up, dressed hurriedly, and walked out the door, leaving the four men to stare behind her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amy's first thought on awakening that morning was a feeling of panic that the alarm hadn't gone off and that she would be late for work. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was already past nine. Oh Jesus, she thought, now I'll get it for sure. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to begin prettying herself for another working day.
The first splash of cold water on her face brought all the memories of the night before rushing back to her. She remembered the concert, the party afterwards, her horrible feeling of guilt as she was making love with Harry Bledsoe, and finally the humiliation of her discovery by Mr. Robinson and the degrading treatment to which he had subjected her in the rock star's bed. Tears of disappointment filled her eyes, but at the same time she was struck by an intense feeling of relief, knowing that she was out of a job once and for all and had thus made an escape albeit an involuntary one from the unethical compromises she had forced her body into making.
It took only a few minutes for the relief to win out over her initial disappointment. No longer would she have to face the possibility of screwing an endless succession of clients (not to mention her boss himself) in order to enhance her own career. Although she had proved that she could cut her way through the jungle of the music promotion business, she was still ashamed of the tools she had had to use to forge her path. Now, thank God, she could get back to being nothing more than what she had been in the past: an ordinary woman with a good man to attend to. Now she could simply go back to being Rick's wife.
The thought filled her with such joy that she found herself cheering into the mirror. Remembering that her husband was due home that afternoon, she immediately bent herself to the task of sanitizing the house. Starting with the bathroom, she cleaned everything, dusted all the furniture, vacuumed the carpet and beat the rugs, mopped the kitchen floor and shined the cabinets, realizing that in so doing she was also assuaging her guilt, cleaning out the corners of her slightly tarnished soul so she could present herself fresh and whole to Rick when he arrived. In the midst of her flurry of activity, she even managed to bake his favorite boysenberry pie.
When she was through cleaning, she called Mitzi, her best friend and former bridge partner, and made an appointment for cards for the following Wednesday. Then she sat down with their bills and bankbooks to analyze their financial situation. Once all the bills were paid, she figured, they would still have enough money to get through the next two months, and by then things should start to break for Rick. If not ... she shrugged. Something would come along; she was certainly not going to worry about it now. She spent the rest of the morning looking through the newspapers and flyers that came in the mail to make up her shopping list for the week.
Just as she was about to start fixing her lunch, she heard the sound of Rick's Pontiac coming up the driveway and rushed to straighten her hair and lipstick before the front door opened. When Rick walked in, looking battered but happy, with two days growth of beard and a sweat-stained flannel shirt, she almost flew to meet him at the door, throwing herself in his arms and covering him with kisses.
"Hey," he said, looking down at her with a bemused expression, "what's all this? Why aren't you at work? Christ, it's almost noon."
"Oh, Rick," she nearly sobbed, "I'm so glad you're home. I've been waiting for you, it seems like months and months, and now you're here." She continued hugging and kissing him as if it were their wedding day.
"Of course I'm home," he said, throwing his fishing hat on the couch. "What did you expect? But the thing is, I'm supposed to be home, and you're supposed to be at work. What gives?"
She looked up at him and smiled. "I don't work for Robinson and Klein anymore," she said. "As of yesterday I'm a free woman."
"You get fired?" he said, a worried look on his face. "Or did you quit?"
"I quit," she lied. "I got tired of being away from home all the time. I got tired of being away from you, to be more precise."
"You did?" he said, looking perplexed.
"Mm-hmmmm. Rick, I don't want to work anymore. I just want to be your wife. I want us to have what we had before that's more important to me than anything now. We were getting close to losing each other, you know."
"I know," he said. "But it was just as much my fault as yours."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I did a lot of thinking on this trip, and it occurred to me that I had been resenting you all along for something that you had a perfect right to do. It was my old-fashioned thinking that was ruining our marriage."
"Oh Rick," she exclaimed, "it's wonderful of you to say that, really, but I don't think you should take the blame. I was the one who was neglecting you."
"But you were also the one who was bringing home the money," he said, "and I was just too proud to accept that. Anyway, that doesn't really matter. What matters is that I've finally got my head screwed on straight, so if you want to call up Robinson and Klein and tell them you've reconsidered, it's fine with me."
"No thanks," she smiled.
"But why?" he said, looking genuinely puzzled. "You were so happy with your work, you told me so. And you said you were tired of being a housewife, which I can certainly understand after trying it myself for awhile."
"I've changed my mind," Amy said. "That's a woman's prerogative, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," Rick admitted. "But it's still hard for me to understand."
"Then don't try," Amy said, reaching up and giving him a tender kiss. "Just accept it. Amy's home again, and this time to stay."
"And what about money?"
"We're all right," she said. "I went over everything, and with my severance pay and all that we'll have enough to make it through the next few months until your season starts again. We may have to eat a lot of chili and drink a lot of water, but we'll make it."
"Good," he said, "but maybe it won't be all as tight as you think." He had a mischievous grin on his face as he said it.
"You found a buried treasure in the Sierras?"
"Not exactly," Rick said, "but that's actually fairly close." As Amy waited for him to continue, he stepped around her and walked toward the kitchen.
"What this?" he said. "Smells suspiciously like boysenberry pie."
Amy ran after him. "Hey," she said, catching up to him and grabbing him by the shoulders. "You just made an enormous change of subject. What's all this mystery of the Sierra Madre?"
"Okay," he said, turning around to face her.
"We were on our way back down from Rosalie Lake, and we stopped in a bar in Mammoth to have a beer. There was a guy sitting at the bar and we got to talking. It turns out this guy owns property all over the Mammoth area, and he wants to start developing it condos, hotels, ski resorts, restaurants, the whole shot. And you know what? This guy had seen some of the stuff I'd done over in Danville. He didn't have any idea that I was the one who'd done the building, but he mentioned seeing it that apartment complex, you remember? and he talked on and on about how great it was and how he'd like to get that builder to work for him."
"Incredible," was all Amy could manage to say. "And there you were."
"Yup," he said. "When I told him who I was, he just about went crazy. So to make a long story short, he wants me to take over all his construction projects, starting in thirty days, as soon as he puts the finishing touches on his financing." He broke into a broad grin. "Amy, do you realize what this means?" he said. "This project should net me at least half a million dollars."
Amy stared at him, speechless.
"And you know what else?" he said. "There's going to be so much work up there that I'm going to need someone to be a sort of combination troubleshooter and secretary, emphasis on the troubleshooter. Would you care to interview for the position?"
It was a few moments before Amy could speak. Finally, playing it straight, she said, "Yes, Mr. Barker, and where and when does this interview take place."
"Right now," he said, picking her up in his strong arms. "In the bedroom."
Amy wrapped her arms happily around his neck and allowed herself to be carried into the bedroom.
"Just think," Rick said as he laid her on the bed and began unbuttoning his blouse, "I'll be able to have an affair with my secretary with my wife's full knowledge."
"Just a minute," she said playfully. "I haven't accepted the position yet."
"Right," he answered, unzipping her skirt and pulling down her panties. "Well, let's take it one position at a time shall we?"
"Indeed we shall," his happy wife answered, reaching her head up to give him a long, passionate kiss . ...
