"Jack-I'm going to come!!!" Gayle moaned, her body stiffening against his. "Oh, please ... please! Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop fucking me, don't stop fucking me-!"
His mouth was sealed to her breast, licking and sucking the lust-swollen nipple that pulsated so erotically between his nursing lips, chewing the nipple between his teeth, bathing it in the warm, free-flowing saliva that ran down his tongue ... and his hand was buried between her thighs, rolling the tip of her clit between his thumb and fingertip. Gayle's body was arched high up, away from the mattress, with only her shoulders and heels still making contact. Wetness oozed from her cunt, making the underside of her crotch slippery from her discharges of sex fluids. Jack was using two fingers, his middle and index ones, to diddle her, and they kept sliding down from the slippery point of her clitoris, almost splashing their way through the extraordinary wetness of her sexed-up pussy. His fingers dug into the tender slit of flesh, rolling in a rapid, massaging circle, pulling and probing at the turgid flesh just above Gayle's hot, swollen clitoris. To vary the rhythm, so that it never became monotonous or predictable, his middle finger darted from its customary path, down to her clit, and massaged it directly. Jack pressed the rubbery lump with a fingertip, rubbing it vigorously, even violently, tickling it with his fingernail ... each time he touched her there, Gayle's naked body jerked higher, more spasmodically, until her limbs were writhing in a disjointed, frantic sexual ballet.
"I'm going to come!" she cried, her voice shrill and quavering with the approach of orgasm. She humped her pubic mound up and down against Jack's masturbating hand, battering his fingers with the wet, sponge-like lips of her cunt. "Don't stop-finger me-fuck me with your hand-my clit, oh rub my hot clit, play with it, jerk it for me-jerk it! Any second now, any second and I'll come, I just know it-!"
Jack dug his fingers deep into her pussy, pressing her clit directly now, straining the flat of his hand against her as though he were trying to push the quivering nub of her extended clitoris back up inside her vaginal entrance. He could feel the tiny, incredibly responsive female organ swelling under his slippery, caressing fingers, spreading the loose, flapping lips of Gayle's cunt further open. The lips of her vulva made a wet, sucking noise that sounded thrillingly indecent in the privacy of their bedroom, as though it were the mouth of a drowning woman, gulping down air and gurgling out hysterical words of pleasure.
He closed his lips hard around her nipple, and tormented the stiff cone of flesh with the blurred stroking of his tongue. He could feel the nipple stiffening even more, swelling even larger, under this unrelenting oral attack, pushing up into his mouth with an almost defiant lust to be sucked. He licked it until his tongue and jaws ached from the effort, feeling the tip of his tongue striking the fleshy part of Gayle's breast, then making contact with the nipple itself, pressing it back with a fierce wet shove only to glide effortlessly over its point until he was on the far side of the mountain-like nipple and could lick his lewd way once more around the base of the mound ... and then, quickly, with breathtaking speed, back again, reversing the course, stroking the imprisoned nipple with the underside of his lascivious tongue ... back and forth, back and forth, rubbing her tit until it began to vibrate like a struck tuning fork. Saliva lubricated the entire rise of Gayle's breast, dribbling out of Jack's sucking mouth and slowly down the firm pink mound in spreading trickles.
"Ahhh! I'm-uhhhhh! Cominggg!" Gayle grunted, squeezing the words out of her mouth just as her vaginal muscles were squeezing an orgasm of unusual intensity and completeness through her cuntal walls and out the tip of her violently pulsing clitoris. The sweat on her body glistened in the dim light of the bedroom as she came, her heels digging into the mattress, her thighs spread wide in a shockingly broad V-shape on either side of Jack's busy hand, her body almost balanced on her head. Only the grinding pressure of his hand jammed between her legs, and the suctioning clamp of his mouth tugging on her breast, prevented the sexual energy being unleashed in her body by her orgasm from literally lifting her off the bed and sending her jerking and quivering and coming, bodily, across the room. "Coming! Ohhhh fuck yes! Coming ... coming so hard! Darling, I'm still coming!"
Jack's fingers worked mercilessly on her tender clitoris, pinching it, rolling it back and forth, prodding it, squeezing orgasm after orgasm out of the bottomless well of her vagina as it exploded again and again against his hand. He tickled her clit, tugged on it, twisted it around in a semi-circle, tried to crush it between his fingertips ... the little organ was alive with sensation, buzzing and burning in his grasp like a live electrical wire, and Jack could feel the orgasms spreading deliciously from his fingers through her cunt and the rest of her spasming body. He was tempted to finger-fuck her in earnest, to jam his hand right up into the wet quaking pit of her pussy, but he wanted to tease Gayle a little and literally yank the orgasms out of her body. He rested his hand against her pubic mound, curling his fingers under, and began to roll her love bud around again slowly-stroking it as he had at first, allowing the fierce peaks of Gayle's soaring pleasure to sag a bit.
His tongue stopped licking against her breast, and his lips went to work once more. Jack pressed-them around the nub of her nipple and massaged the tender cone of flesh with a slow, grinding, up-and-down pressure from his slippery mouth. He pulled the nipple gently around in a circle inside his mouth, using only his lips on it, sucking air up so that it would rush past the tit and cool its fiery passion until it was once again no more than a dormant, smoldering ember-but an ember that could be stirred up into the roaring flame of total erotic abandon at a moment's notice.
Gayle's body jerked savagely once more, reaching out for one last throb of climactic sensation, and then collapsed onto the bed, her damp thighs still parted in an obscene invitation on either side of his forearm. Her breasts heaved fitfully.
"Oh-my-God!" she moaned, rolling her head on the soft pillows. "I can still feel it ... but not as intense. As if it were coming in reverse ... coming back down from a really good high ... each throb ... in my pussy ... each sensation less vivid ... just sort of rolling through my hot cunt, now that I'm not still coming...."
Before her final orgasm burned itself out deep within her fiery vagina, Jack released his hold on her breast and began licking his tongue across her salty-tasting nakedness. His fingers continued to strum her clitoris, though, moving gently against it. His tongue slithered lower, over her ribcage, down over the flat of her belly.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, too exhausted from her come to lift her head to see for herself. Her body seemed dead from sexual excess, pinned to the mattress by the weight of the pleasure that lingered within it. She could offer him no resistance even had she wanted to. "Jack ... what the hell are you-?"
"Don't say anything," he whispered, licking the indentation of her navel. His saliva made a wet line across her flushed flesh, like an arrow pointing down toward the ultimate destination of his lapping exploration of her body. "Just lie back and enjoy it, baby ... enjoy it ... enjoy...."
He moved down between her spread thighs, placing both hands on the rim of her cunt. With two fingers, Jack carefully peeled apart the petal-like lips of her pussy, exposing her clitoris again. The hair on her vaginal mound was damp and matted, and the swollen lips themselves were glued together with a slowly drying stickiness. They made a lewd wet peeling sound as Jack separated them. Gayle's clit was small and shrunken once more, its color pale against the vivid red wetness between her lips. Like an eye winking at him in wanton invitation her pussy opened and closed in a little fluttering motion, a bubble or two of wetness oozing erotically out of its depths and onto her thighs. Jack leaned down and blew a warm, gentle stream of air directly at the shriveled clit, and Gayle stirred, moaned softly in response-and anticipation of further stimulation. Fascinated, Jack watched her clit respond, shuddering for a split-second, its color deepening, pulsating once again with an erotic residue of sensation.
Jack leaned forward, and pushed his tongue out from between his lips. He positioned it directly against Gayle's clit, and began to lick it.
"Oh! Shit!" she cried. A tiny muscle in her right thigh twitched. "Don't, Jack ... no. It's too sensitive, after coming so hard ... too ... oooooh!"
He tongued her clitoris slowly-languidly-lapping up and down, dabbing the whole area around the organ with the point of his wet, warm tongue. He could feel Gayle's body shuddering underneath him, as though the embers of her previous orgasms had been suddenly blown upon and relit, flaring up in lewd eagerness. Her flesh was warm and sweet-tasting, and Jack savored the pungency of her drying orgasmic fluids. He ran his tongue between the red lips of her pussy, nuzzling her clit, parting the damp brown hair that covered the top of her mound.
"Ah, Jack ... Jack!" she groaned voluptuously, moving her thighs, raising her knees, opening the underside of her cunt for his tongue to probe. Her legs sagged back, as if the precarious balance on which they were teetering had suddenly tipped, spreading her thighs until they were almost at a right angle to her torso, like a ballerina doing the splits. She said in a low, guttural, passion-swept tone of voice: "Oh, God yes that's-wild, wild! It's building up again ... slow ... but I'm feeling it, I'm getting there again, you're getting my pussy all juiced up and hot to come!"
Jack could feel his tongue rubbing wetly across his fingers as he held the lips of her cunt wide open. His strokes on her clit were getting longer and firmer, dipping lower down toward the slit of her pussy, sliding effortlessly up and over the curves of her labia, flattening the rigid nub of her clitoris. He could hear himself lapping up her wetness, and, as Gayle's pleasure began to intensify, he could see her body raising itself off the bed and hesitating in mid-air only to drop down slack again, as though the pleasure of having her twat tongued like this was something she had to fight for a moment before she could give in and surrender herself completely to the enjoyment of it.
Gradually she loosened up, her cunt lips flapping open and shut, her thighs writhing with renewed urgency, the aperture of her vagina opening wide to suck in fresh air, preparing itself for the wrenching, shattering impact of yet another orgasm.
"Oh, that's so nice! So fucking nice!" she cried, her voice a sexual rumble deep in her throat. The hot pleasure was seeping up through her body, stirring all of her sensuality to demanding, urgent life. Her head turned, spilling her hair across the pillows, as her mouth opened to gulp in oxygen and make her breasts swell with the deep breaths. She lifted one leg, pulling her left knee up, altering the angle of his tongue against her juicy cunt. "Oh yes! Yes! I like it like that ... I love it! It feels so good!"
Jack matched the rhythm of his tongue to the new excitement in her body, stroking her clit more directly and frequently ... the nub began to harden and expand, like a tiny cock stiffening into erection. It separated itself from the rest of her pussy flesh, standing up almost inside Jack's mouth, his tongue rippling over its inflating hardness. He began to eat pussy lower down, collecting with his busy tongue the salty wetness and stickiness that had once again begun to flow from Gayle's snatch. He sucked in her juices, mixing them with his own saliva, and painted the erotic compound all over the curve of her cunt. He stroked up and down, the spear-like tip of his tongue inserted boldly in the groove formed by her hot swollen cunt lips.
"Oh Jesus, I'm getting hot!" Gayle blurted out shamelessly, shifting her feverishly aroused body around on the rumpled, sweat-stained sheets as though the pleasure flowing through her flesh were intolerable. Her hands moved, stiffly and uncertainly at first, as though she had forgotten how they could be used to increase her own satisfaction, the fingers stretching themselves over her nude body experimentally ... but she quickly brought both hands to her breasts, cupping the lush mounds between her fingers and squeezing her tits in and out, grinding them around in a slow, sexy circle on her chest, chafing the tender nipples until they were rock-hard.
Gayle caught her nipples in the vise of her thumb and index fingers, pinching them viciously, determined to drive herself wild with lust. "Oh Christ!" she exclaimed. "It's wonderful! Wonderful-I can actually feel it-ahhhhh-getting better, more exciting, growing inside me ... oh Jesus, Jack! Oh Jesus Christ yes!"
Jack moved his hand away from her vaginal lips. Gayle was sufficiently relaxed there, wide open enough, for him not to have to do anything to keep her rigid clit exposed: his tongue had cleared a path to her little love bud. He slid his hands under the cheeks of Gayle's ass. She was lifting her behind and rotating it around as if her orgasm were a loose wire within her that she had to wind up like a spring in order to come, coiling it deep in her cunt until it was tight and ready to burst loose again. Jack's fingers dug into the firm flesh of her buttocks, and he pulled her crotch up against his mouth, spreading her vulva even wider open with his thumbs, eating out of the deep warm bowl of her cunt as though it were a piece of particularly ripe, succulent fruit dripping its juices all over and into his mouth.
"Fuck! I'm going to come again!" Gayle warned, her voice as full of surprise as it was tense with excitement. She rolled her hips against Jack's face, kissing his lips with her wet cunt, smearing the thick cream of her discharge across his cheeks, letting it ooze between his pursed, sucking lips. She began to hump herself up and down, jarring his neck with the insane impact of her dripping, convulsing pussy. "It's wild! Crazy! Oh! I'm going to! Come again! I'ml Going to! Come againl Oh Jack-ohhhhh!"
His lapping tongue slithered down to the gap between her turgid pussy lips. He pushed it deep into her twat, and Gayle moaned excitedly, a sob wracking her voice. She was sweltering inside, the heat searing his face, the muscular ring of her cunt seeming to leap out toward his mouth and suck at his lips, pulling his tongue deeper into her. As her labia opened wide to permit his penetration, Jack pulled Gayle's body hard against his shoulders and chest with both hands, stiffening his tongue inside her pussy and using it to fuck her. Her cunt quivered closed again around his tongue as a hot spasm of pleasure gripped her, trapping his tongue inside her honeyed canal. Jack was breathing in the sweaty raunchiness of her creaming cunt, and it was enough to make his head spin with delight.
He shoved his tongue in and out of the oozing passageway, as Gayle began to moan and gasp, grinding her crotch roughly against his face. He curled his tired tongue into a cylinder of flesh, writhing it around inside the narrow, heated aperture. He could feel it sliding wetly all over the sticky walls of her pussy. Her cunt made a loud squishing noise as he tongue-fucked it.
"Jack-Jack!" she screamed. "Soon ... ah, soon!"
He pulled his tongue from her hole, and she groaned in disappointment. Jack teased her clitoris with tiny fluttering strokes, and her cry of frustration turned into a moaning swell of ecstatic pleasure. He rubbed her horny clit the way he had tongued her nipple: slapping it roughly, tormenting it with the rolling blur of his wet tongue tip all over it at once. Juices flowed from her vagina as though a dam had ruptured deep inside it, and Jack could taste the spicy flavor of her approaching orgasm filling his mouth. He kneaded her ass cheeks with his hands, running one finger up and down in the deep warm crack between the cheeks, teasing her anal opening with the threat of penetration. He pursed his lips around the swollen button of her clit, sucking on it, rubbing it raw with his lips and teeth and tongue.
That did it!
"Ah! Jack! I'm ... I'm coming-oh my God!!!" He felt her orgasm rush into his mouth as her clitoris melted between his caressing lips. The vibrations rippled through Gayle's flesh, quivering up and down her threshing thighs, making her breasts jiggle like a trampoline. She seized Jack's head in both hands, grinding his face back and forth savagely across her cunt, as though she wanted to ram him right up into her body like a gigantic penis and fuck herself to death with him. Her thighs closed around his ears like a clap of thunder, deafening him, locking his head to her crotch, as she came and came.
"Yes, I'm coming!" she screamed exultantly, pulling on his hair so hard that Jack's scalp felt as though it were on fire. His jaw ached agonizingly from the repeated, bone-jarring punches her pussy was throwing at it. He was pressed in so tightly against her overflowing snatch that he could barely move his tongue. His chin was pressed against the bottom of her cunt lips, and he could feel the suction of her spilling lubrications running down his neck.
"Coming ... coming ... coming!"
Instead of waiting for the orgasm to peak, as he had before, Jack forced himself away from her right in the middle of her coming. He disentangled himself from Gayle's clenched thighs, and, kneeling between them as he pulled them roughly open, he guided the turgid thickness of his prick into her exploding cunt. She was bearing down with her vaginal muscles, squeezing the orgasmic sensations out of herself, and his prick felt as though it were in a vise, or trying to ram itself into a hole that was simply too narrow to accommodate its bulk. He grabbed her thighs with both hands, and, straining forward and down, arching his back, he drove his dick in, all the way into her wet tight spasming cunt.
"Oh Jesus I'm coming again!!!"-the words were a shrill announcement of his success at penetrating her, exploding from her lips in a whistle of breath amid the cries of moans. The new orgasm began even before its immediate predecessor had fully died away. Gayle's body was now so finely tuned, so sensitive and responsive, from having come so often already, that the pleasure this time was almost painful in its intensity-shattering, convulsive, as it swept through her from head to foot and rocked the depths of her cock-plugged cunt. She began to tremble and shake from one end of her body to the other, her orgasm rippling through her body, every nerve within her alive and tingling. "Oh ... Oh! Oh! OHHHHH!"
Jack's cock slid in and out of her vagina freely. He could feel her coming all over it, spilling her sweet juices, her wetness enveloping his erection, the walls of her cunt like liquid fire, caressing him, licking at the shaft of his cock with tongues of flame. Deep in her body there was something pulling on his prick, draining it, like a vacuum at the end of her vaginal passageway, trying to suck his cock, his come, up into the seething vortex of her orgasming flesh.
Jack grunted, concentrating on his own orgasm, too long delayed and now inevitable. The sperm was building up painfully in his balls, a volatile fluid boiling and expanding and frothing until his groin ached, and, suddenly, the top of his cock blew off like an overtaxed safety valve. He felt the semen rising wildly, like mercury in a thermometer suddenly dipped into boiling water, rushing with blind velocity and irresistible force through the length of his hot, throbbing cock....
He pulled his prick out of Gayle's cunt in mid-ejaculation.
He aimed it at her belly, pointed up toward her breasts, nestling in the damp matted nest of her soaked pussy hair. Jack's prick was bright red and incredibly swollen, stained and wet from having been inside her cunt. He stared down at his cock as he started to come all over Gayle.
"Uhhhhh!" he grunted, running his tongue across his panting lips, savoring the lingering wetness of Gayle's cunt on them. He balanced himself by holding onto her spread knees, using them like a gymnast's parallel bars on either side of his body. He pushed down, pressing his cock hard against her stomach, aware of how excruciatingly her fur against his tormented prick added to his pleasure in coming. He grunted again, but with relief this time, as his pleasure poured out of him in desperate, straining, wide-arcing spurts of creamy white fluid. "Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhhhh!"
His come gushed from the painfully swollen head of his cock, spurting out in extraordinarily thick blobs that splashed heavily over Gayle's writhing torso. The sperm continued to flow, in fits and starts, hot and thick as it plopped obscenely in a series of milky puddles from her cunt to her breasts, covering her in come. Jack's prickhead was swollen to nearly twice its usual size when erect, almost purple from the effort of unloading. His come littered her body in gooey splashes, like paint hurled onto a canvas by a demented artist. He was going to drown her in his hot wet come!
"God, I can feel it!" Gayle cried, her sex-glazed eyes wide and staring, watching, incredulously, the sexual rain showering down across her body in such gross quantities. She put her hand down and smeared the semen across her midsection, from the edge of her cunt up to her throat, rubbing it into her breasts, shoving her dripping fingers hungrily into her mouth, licking and sucking them until they were clean. Then she reached out and started to milk Jack's cock with her fingers, pulling on it, squeezing it like a nearly-used-up tube of toothpaste, wringing the last feeble sputters of come from its tip and rubbing it like liquid paste between her caressing fingers. "It's so hot! So hot! And so much!"
The mood of wild, completely uninhibited sexuality died slowly, and they settled down on the mattress together, sweating heavily, listening to the sound of their own gasping, mingled breaths. The bedroom was dark, and the smells of sex now hung in the air, lingering like a powerful perfume. Jack propped a pillow beneath him, resting his head against the wooden headboard; his hair hung down in his eyes, and it took a real effort to lift one arm to brush it away.
"How was it for you?" he asked, his heart pounding like a kettledrum in his chest. His mouth was dry and he had cunt hairs caught on his tongue; he pulled at them with his fingers, but they eluded his grasp, his mouth and hand were both so sticky and slippery.
Gayle simply groaned, shaking her head as though to say that there were no words for what she had experienced. It had been a rhetorical question anyway: Jack knew that he had more than satisfied her. She looked fucked out ... lying there exactly as he had left her, unmoving, unable to move perhaps, as though a force of the many orgasms had drained all of the energy from her. Her body glistened dully with sweat, and across her belly and breasts, matted in the hair of her cunt, was the rapidly drying, glue-like residue of her husband's sperm.
"I feel like I'm dead," Gayle finally managed to say, her voice hoarse and cracked, brittle with fatigue and erotic satiety. "God, though, that was really incredible ... worth every bit ... I ... oh...!"
Jack's breathing had slowed to near normal, but his limbs, too, seemed leaden with exhaustion. "How many times did you come, anyway?"
Gayle laughed, flashing him a quizzical who's counting? look. "Christ, I have no idea ... I lost track."
"Well, about how many?" he pressed.
Gayle stirred sluggishly, lifting her head, propping herself up on one elbow before him. Jack shoved a pillow under her head and shoulders, and she sank back into it gratefully, sighing. "At least four times," she declared. "Maybe more. It's hard to tell, when you're that turned on-they just seem to melt together into one big sexual high. But I had four big ones for sure. And I owe it all to you, dear."
That pleased Jack, who smiled to himself in the darkness. He found himself thinking about their employer, Erica Selwyn ... he gave her multiple orgasms, too, on a good day. His ego swelled up like an aroused penis, and he found himself automatically reaching down between his spread thighs. His cock was limp and wet and sore, but he caressed it affectionately in his fingers, as he would a faithful pet that had done its repertory of tricks well for his amusement.
"Do you want to smoke another joint?" he asked Gayle, wiping the traces of semen from his fingers onto his thigh. They'd shared one before starting to make love, and it had had spectacular results. Now, though, the energy they'd used up fucking had more than dissipated the effects of the strong pot.
"Yeah, that would be nice. I need something after all that exertion. My nerves are always pretty jangled after a really good come, let alone three or four in a row. I need something to smooth me out and put me back together again."
With an effort, Jack reached over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and found the other joint he'd rolled earlier. He wet the tip in his mouth and lit it up.
"Sit up," he grunted, "it's ready."
Gayle groaned, but, like a mountain forcing itself to move above an active earthquake zone, she heaved herself into a semi-sitting position next to Jack's naked body. He handed her the joint.
Husband and wife smoked in silence, sucking the smoke down deep into their lungs. Already, they could feel the relaxation seeping like warm, soothing water through their aching, sex-battered muscles and joints. The tension of their no-holds-barred erotic combat was fading, and their limbs began to move without requiring too strenuous an effort of will power. Because of their genuine near-exhaustion after the ferocious screwing they'd given each other, the grass didn't make them silly or whacked out, "as it might have ordinarily: instead, it did act as a tranquilizer, leaving them both contentedly suspended in that grey area halfway between consciousness and sleep.
"Do you love me?" Gayle asked-predictably-as she handed him the joint.
"Do I what?" Jack sucked on the stub of the cigarette before crushing it out in the ashtray beside the bed.
"Love me ... do you love me?"
"No, I just think of you as a sex object ... of course I do! What kind of a dumbass question is that after being married three years, going on four?!"
"Then why don't you ever tell me so?"
"I do. Lots of times."
"When, for example?"
"Oh, fuck, Gayle-! Well, just a minute ago, when we were making love."
"You did not. You didn't say anything about love. You hardly said anything to me at all, and what little you did say was mostly about cock and cunt and coming."
"Didn't I get the point across that I loved you somewhere in there?" he asked sarcastically, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought I made it pretty clear ... I'm sorry, anyway. I love you, Gayle."
She pouted. "That's not good enough. If I have to drag it out of you, it doesn't mean anything. You might have thought of it all on your own initiative."
"I do love you, darling, and I'm very sorry. I was just thoughtless-again. You know how I am."
Gayle made a hrummmph sound with her pouting mouth. "God, for a guy who's become a television sex symbol in only two months, you're about the least romantic man I've ever run into in my life."
Jack shrugged again. Christ, how many times had he heard those same words-the same old shit?!
"I can't help it, it's just the way I am. If you can't accept that after three years of marriage...." He left the rest unsaid, confident that her vivid imagination could fill it in for her. "Romanticism is just plain bullshit. Maudlin, sentimental bullshit. The kind of crap you told me you wanted to phase out of the show, when you agreed to accept the job...."
"Tell me why you love me," Gayle demanded. "Huh?"
"Tell me why you love me."
"Oh, shit, Gayle! It's late. We both have a busy day tomorrow at the fucking studio-"
"Tell me, or I won't let you go to sleep-I'll nag at you all night long," she teased, half seriously.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Just tell me, darling. And then you'll be able to go to sleep, which you deserve after fucking me so gloriously tonight."
Jack sighed audibly. "All right, let's see ... Jesus ... I love you because you're such a good person?"
"Oh, come on, now!"
"All right, all right! You asked for it ... I love you because you give me a sense of security? Emotional security?"
"Oh? How do I do that?"
"Well, marriage is stable-it stabilizes my life. I don't have to question myself, my worth as a man, because I know I'm a decent and productive person. Someone-my wife Gayle, you know her?-loves me, so that makes me pretty special. I am loved ... I am capable of being loved." What bullshit, he thought. "No matter what else might happen to me, nothing can ever take that away from me. Gayle, my wife, loves me."
Gayle seemed touched. "That was really beautiful to hear. Really romantic. Why don't you say things like that all the time?"
"If I could, I'd drop acting and go into the greeting card business. Can we go to sleep now?"
Gayle exploded in a fit of laughter.
Jack stared at her, baffled, until the suggestibility of the marijuana made him laugh along with her. The grim mood was suddenly broken.
"Oh God, Jack, you are incredible ... it's moments like this that make me know I really do love you. How could I resist such a nut?"
They kissed each other goodnight, Gayle cleaned herself off as best as she could with the towel she kept under the pillow for such moments, and they settled comfortably under the covers. Jack slid his arm under her neck and shoulders and pulled her close to him. Her breast was pressed, naked, against him, a warm, breathing soft mass of female flesh, relaxed and passive now that their lust had spent itself. Jack gradually felt his eyelids growing heavy, a warm relaxation spreading up from his groin to his brain.
"Do you know, it's sad in a way, Jack," Gayle mumbled almost inaudibly, breaking into his fading awareness.
"Huh? What is?"
"Do you realize that we hardly ever talk any more ... I mean seriously talk ... that's what's sad. I wonder why that is ... it never used to be this way. When we were first living together, and then after we got married, that's all we used to do. Besides screw, of course. Don't you remember-all those long evenings together, talking until the sun came up? Now we only seem to find the time to talk to each other when we're stoned. Why? Why should that be? Is it just getting used to these new jobs at the studio, worrying about the show, or what-?"
Virtually in confirmation of her point, she was talking more to herself than to him, not really expecting an answer. Jack certainly didn't have one for her, and so they went to sleep together with the question hanging poignantly and a little disturbingly in the air, like a cloud casting its shadow over their outwardly secure and satisfying lives, telling them something very sad indeed about their marriage.
CHAPTER TWO
Erica told Jack to come in.
He pushed the door open and entered her office. She was sitting at her desk, with her head facing him, but bowed low over something she was reading. The desk top was littered with countless misshapened stacks of paper, an overflowing ashtray-Erica chain-smoked, appallingly-and a blue-lined yellow pad, covered with hastily scribbled notes from a black felt-tipped pen. The two desk phones were lifted from their cradles, and the receivers had been pressed into service as paperweights on two of the larger, less well organized and therefore most recent, piles of papers. The double row of silently flashing lights from the extension buttons reminded Jack of warning beacons-a warning he would inevitably disregard, as he had so many times in the past when a beautiful but bitchy female offered herself to him.
Erica finally looked up from her work. "Oh, Jack-it's you."
"Are you busy?"
"I'm never too busy for you, darling." Erica addressed every male under the age of eighty as darling, but for Jack she saturated the word with a special intimacy and suggestiveness.
"Gayle was out to lunch," Jack said. He nodded toward the disconnected phones. "I tried to call you, but-"
"Oh, shit. Well, come in, darling," Erica invited him, straightening her spine. She pushed herself back, away from the desk, the wheels of her executive's swivel chair making a faint squeaky protest as they rolled across the thick rug. "Lock the door."
Jack closed the door behind him, then locked it by pushing in the button at the center of the doorknob until it clicked. He turned and faced Erica again-feeling the old resentment throbbing away in the back of his more immediate, lustful thoughts. Look at the way the bitch sits there, he thought, like a fucking queen waiting for her servant's attention ... waiting for me to come to her-crawl to herl Cunt! Erica was using him, and she made no pretense about it ... forcing Jack to bring himself to her, to make the first move, was anly one of her ways of extracting payment. Still, Jack couldn't say he minded it all that much. Not enough to tell her to fuck off, certainly.
He walked across the office toward her, impatient now with a sudden stiffening passion in his crotch. Erica noticed-she always noticed things like that-and sat back again, spreading her thighs until the hem of her skirt was pulled taut across the creamy litheness of her tapered legs. The chair squealed again as she moved into the provocative position.
"Hurry, darling ... we don't have much time."
Erica was a strikingly attractive woman, a fact of which she was more than well aware, and one which, in her own subtle and not so subtle ways, she never failed to bring to other people's attention. She was about five years older than Jack, making her thirty-four or five; but instead of detracting from her natural beauty, her age only seemed to make her even more desirable. She was ripe and matured, like a swollen, tender piece of fruit, brimming over with sweetness and mouthwatering juices. Her glittering green eyes were the color of emeralds-and about as cold, even when inflamed by passion. The hair that framed her high-cheekboned, aristocratic face was the color of gold. Even her laughter had a brittle, metallic ring to it.
"Oh Jack, baby," she whispered, rubbing her large, full breasts through her satin blouse. "I'm wet already!"
She was half out of the chair by the time he got around the big desk. Jack took her in his arms and lifted her the few remaining inches until she was standing erect in front of him. Her body was soft and tremulous, the curves and swells of her voluptuous frame almost shimmering from the heat of her obvious excitement. He pulled her toward him roughly, opening his mouth, able to feel the heat of her cunt through their clothing.
Erica melted against him, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling his face down hard against her open mouth. Her tongue slithered into Jack's mouth, and he could feel the edge of her teeth gnawing lightly on his lower lip as they kissed.
"It's been so long, baby," Erica whispered lewdly. Her wet, pointed tongue darted in and out his mouth, making bubbles in his saliva. The taste of her breath was sweet, and Jack drank it in greedily, aware that his head was already beginning to spin drunkenly from the heady aroma. She moaned, "Oh God ... oh God! Jack-"
He kissed her soft wet mouth, moving his head in a slow, lanquid rolling motion, pressing his own tongue between her lips. He could feel her teeth and tongue, the roof of her mouth, the steady pressure from her sucking breath. Her silken hair rustled like charges of static electricity as it rubbed over his cheeks. The hollow of her mouth was hot, and her wetness excited him. He slid his hands down along her back, pushing her tightly against him, pressing his erect cock between her parted thighs. The head of his prick rode over the broad mound of her cunt, and Erica shuddered lustfully as Jack ground his hips, inserting the bulge of his cock more deeply between her legs, the heat from her vagina basking down around his crotch.
With his tongue thrust deep in her mouth, he began to hump himself against her. He grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands, digging his fingers into the firm, grinding mounds. The material of her skirt felt cool and smooth between his groping fingers, a strong contrast to the knotted hardness of her rippling buttocks beneath it. Jack pulled her tightly against him, pumping his prick in a hunching, in-and-out rhythm, ramming the material of her skirt deeply between her convulsing thighs.
"Oh, baby, baby, baby...!" Erica moaned, breaking their kiss. Her breasts were like two pillows pushing into Jack's chest, and even through the many layers of fabric separating their bodies, he could feel her erect, throbbing nipples. Her eyes were closed, and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. She sucked in her breath as a spasm of pleasure rippled through the length of her body. "Ohhh, give it to me, baby! Give it to me! Give me that cock!"
It excited Jack to hear her talking that way to him, and he humped in so hard against her, lifting the cheeks of her ass high so that the underside of her cunt rubbed right across the top of his cockshaft, that he almost came from the twitch of pleasure that shot through his prick ... he could never quite get over the sense of unmistakable pride he felt whenever Erica responded with such obvious passion for his body. Erica was a beautiful, talented, powerful woman-yet she was hot for his cock. Out of all the men she came into contact with, she chose Jack to be her current lover. It was so incredible, it made Jack's mind fairly boggle with horny excitement. Erica Selwyn, lady executive, wanted him-his cock. She wanted him to fuck her!
"Give it to me, baby!" she moaned again, untangling her fingers from Jack's dark, sweaty hair. She slid her hand around Jack's hip and forced it between their writhing bodies, palm forward-and grabbed his dick through his trousers. "Give it to me, baby. Give that cock to me!"
Her fingers were like greedy talons, closing around his tensed, excited cockflesh, pulling at his prickshaft through his clothing. Jack could feel the gripping hardness of her palm as she rubbed it brazenly up and down around his pulsing cock-shaft. She pinched his prickhead with her fingertips, pulling the organ toward her, stroking up and down on his cock....
"Take it out, Jack, baby," she whispered, her voice harsh and guttural with lustful urgency. Her fingers were like pincers biting into the swollen shaft of his cock, squeezing down hard until the intensity of Jack's pleasure made his knees go weak under him. "Take it out-your cock, your cock! Take out your cock!"
His thighs were pressed atop her thighs, and he could feel the cheeks of her ass quivering in his palms. She was jerking him off through his pants, rubbing the head of his prick sensuously across the warm moist mound of her cunt.
"Gayle," Jack managed to gasp out, turning his head halfway toward the door behind him. "What about Gayle? What if she comes back from lunch and-?!"
Erica smothered his guilty protests, sealing her lips across his mouth. The wide, spongy wedge of her lascivious tongue filled his mouth, ramming the words back down his throat. Jack kissed back, hard, and she worked her tongue in and out, until saliva dribbled from the corners of their lips. Her fingers rubbed his cock rapidly, until Jack could feel the heat and friction merging with and multiplying the heat of his desire for her. Erica's fingers slid up along his zipper and caught the metal lead. She began to pull the zipper down.
"Yes!" Jack cried, excited beyond measure suddenly, thinking, perversely enough, about Gayle, anticipating what was about to happen. "Yes, yes! Take it out! Take my cock out!"
Her hand moved in a blur, and in another instant the zipper was all the way down, and her soft, groping fingers were inserted between the folds of Jack's gaping fly. He could feel the warmth of her seeking hand moving against his genitals through the cotton of his shorts ... the last barrier of material parted, and flesh touched flesh without impediment. Jack shuddered and moaned from the lewd contact; it was so intense it was as though raw electricity were flowing through him!
"Ohhhhh!" Erica crooned, whispering her excitement into his ear, making it emphatic with a punctuating stab of her wet tongue. Her fingers curled, slowly, one by one, around the throbbing length of Jack's cockshaft, and she jerked it savagely up and down, fingernails grazing deliciously into the tender skin covering the hard pole, tightening her grip until Jack could feel his cockhead swelling with pounding passion. She began to stroke him rapidly up from the hairy base of the organ, her palm moist and slippery with sweat on his pulsating flesh. "I love it, I love it, Jack-it's so Goddam huge!"
Closing his eyes, savoring the pleasure through his cock, Jack couldn't help but think of Gayle ... he began to compare their masturbation techniques, measuring and evaluating the degree of pleasure that was spreading through his loins. Gayle's hand was definitely smaller, softer, thin-fingered: she gripped Jack's prick more firmly, though, milking his tool of sensation with the squeezing ring of her pumping fingers. Erica's strokes, though, were longer and deeper, pulling up from the base of Jack's belly until she was crushing the bulb of his cockhead into her palm. Her hand was soft and moist, and the friction from it intensely stimulating ... Jack could come easily from Erica's hand masturbating him, something he rarely did with Gayle, even after two years.
Jack moved his hand up and around, away from her ass, and stood there, with his thighs spread wide apart, putting his fingers around the soft, luscious mound of Erica's right breast. She stepped back, away from him, a few inches, still stroking his cock with a vigorous up-and-down motion. Her breasts were heavy, unlike Gayle's smaller, firmer breasts, and Jack enjoyed their sagging weight lying across his palms. He lifted both tits and squeezed them from below, then pulled them away from Erica's chest. Her nipples were stiff inside her bra, and Jack caught them both in the pinch of his thumb and index finger.
Erica moaned. "I want to watch," she said, stepping back again, moving further away from him. "I want to watch your cock while I'm jerking you off!"
He staggered back, his outstretched fingers falling away from Erica's pendulous tits, his only contact with her now the tenacious grip of her stroking fingers around the throbbing column of his cock. He opened his eyes and stared down between their bodies, sucking in his breath in excitement at the starkly sexual sight of his prick grasped in her hand.
It was swollen and long, sticking out obscenely from his open trousers; Jack could see a dark hair or two in silhouette against the wide V of the open zipper. His cock was pale near its base, but at the tip, swollen and moist, it was a deep, brownish red ... contrasted with the delicate pink of Erica's fingers, the effect was sensuous and exciting. Jack watched her hand moving slowly up and down, caressing the entire length of his hard-on from its broad base, right down to the oozing wetness that bubbled from the slitted crown of the shaft. She stroked him with a smooth, fluid motion, pulling the flesh of his foreskin back and forth under her fingers. Jack could feel his prick getting hotter-harder-thicker-hornier!-from the pressure of her hand.
"Oh, Jesus-this is turning me on!" Erica gasped, running her tongue wetly over her lips. Her green eyes protruded lewdly from their sockets, and she was breathing in short, harsh rasps. Something wicked crossed her lovely face, transformed into a mask of the baser, animalistic emotions, and gazing at Jack with lustful eyes she groaned, '!Eat me, Jack ... go down on me now and eat me! My cunt ... my cunt! Eat my cunt!"
Jack stared at her. "Erica-"
She shook her head, releasing her hold on his cock. "No, don't say anything! Just do it-lick my cunt!"
She staggered backward until her shapely calves hit the edge of her swivel chair, and fell down heavily into the seat, pushing the chair a squealing inch or two further back, away from Jack. The hem of Erica's skirt shot up, coming to a halt high above her knees ... Jack could see her panties between her upper thighs: the undergarment was a creamy white, with a tuft of curling blonde hair visible under the elastic legbands on either side of the broad mound of her cunt.
"Come and eat me, baby," Erica coaxed him erotically, lifting the skirt high, exposing herself to Jack ... the contrast of thigh and stocking-top and panty was stimulating, and Jack watched as Erica slid forward in the chair until her ass was hanging over the edge of the cushion. Slowly-sensuously-like a flower with unfolding petals-her thighs spread.
"Come and eat me, Jack, baby," she enticed him luridly yet again. "Come here and pull my panties down ... come here and eat my hot cunt!"
Jack walked blindly toward her, his naked prick throbbing wildly in front of him. His breath felt hot and steamy as it escaped laboriously from his lungs, and he swallowed heavily, conscious of only one thing-of his total, all-consuming excitement, his lust for her body.
He dropped down to his knees in front of her. Erica's thighs were spread wide open, their sleek muscles quivering visibly with anticipation. The material of her sheer panties was drawn taut across the rise of her cunt, revealing the fine network of soft hair under the gleaming white synthetic silk ... the thin strip of material that curved up between her thighs and buttocks, covering the underside of her vaginal opening itself, was stained with wetness, and stuck moistly and invitingly to the expanding lips of her pussy.
"Eat me, baby. Eat me!" Erica was beside herself with lustful impatience as she pulled Jack's face hard against her cunt, ramming his open mouth right against her soft mound. He could smell her oozing excitment, and, under his tongue, could already taste the heated smoothness of her wetly clinging panties. "Lick me, Jack, darling ... lick my pussy, eat it out until I come!"
He obediently ran his extended tongue up and down, lapping Erica's juiced-up twat through her panties. He could feel her vulva squishing under the light pressure from his lips and tongue, the hairs parting with soft, wet whispers, her oozing cunt gushing fluid against the soaked crotchpiece of those straining panties. Her taut belly muscles were rippling spasmodically and her thighs trembled back and forth-open and shut-alternately squeezing in against Jack's cheeks and letting go. He could feel the sharp edges of Erica's fingernails tearing into his scalp as she pulled her face harder and harder against her feverishly aroused cunt.
"Take them down," Jack grunted, jerking his face away from her grip. His lips already ached from the grinding pressure of his teeth against them and her vaginal lips, and the root of his tongue felt a little numb. "Take them down, Erica ... your pants ... let me eat you out the right way, take those fucking panties off!"
He didn't wait for her to do it for him, but hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of the panties and began to tug on them. Erica responded with a moan, arcing her back fiercely when the quick downward slide of her panties was stopped by the chair's cushion. Jack's face was inches above her heated cunt, his eyes wide open and burning with lust as he exposed the sensuous curve of her mons veneris and the seething aperture of her sexual slit. The deep V-shape of her pussy was broad and completely covered with dark blonde hair that spread over the mound, trailing up toward her tummy. The lips of her pussy itself were fully engorged with blood and fluttering apart, and, at the top, could be glimpsed the throbbing bud of her expanding clitoris. A thin clear trickle of wetness oozed out from the scarlet groove, and the erotic scent of her pussy filled Jack's nostrils-it was all he could do to force himself to wait, to hold back and restrain himself until the infuriating panties were all the way off ... his mouth was literally watering for the warm pungent taste of that cunt!
Erica's thighs were fuller and rounder than Gayle's, he couldn't help noticing as he rocked back on his heels to pull the panties over her knees ... and she was hairier than Gayle; much more hairy ... for some reason that excited him, creating lurid mental images of Erica's wild, animal passion. Jack pulled her pants all the way down, slipping them over Erica's shoes until her legs were freed and the panties dropped on the floor. He looked up from his kneeling position between her thighs. Erica's pussy loomed ominously above him, jutting boldly out over the edge of the chair. The dark red lips were wide open now, and the telltale wetness gleamed all over the surrounding flesh, the hair matted. The cheeks of her ass were flattened under the weight of her voluptuous body. Jack shot forward as though a spring within him had suddenly been released, and darted his tongue toward the juiciness of that luscious cunt. He made oral contact and began to eat Erica's pussy.
Erica shuddered. "Oh God-yes!" she moaned loudly. She interlaced her fingers across the back of Jack's skull, pulling his mouth roughly against her hot wet cunt. Spasmodically, her thighs scissored up and closed around his neck, and she humped herself abandonedly up and down to wipe her pussy with his licking, tantalizing tongue. She was rocking violently now, almost sliding off the edge of her chair, which was making wild squealing, protesting noises. "Eat me, baby!" Erica cried shamelessly. "Oh yes, yes, fuck yes! Eat me ... lick it! Eat my cunt!"
Her pussy was wet with perspiration and the liquid proof of her passion. The tip of Jack's tongue slithered effortlessly between the slippery, fleshy lips. Her body tasted warm, and he thrilled as her juices seeped inside his sucking mouth. His nose nuzzled in her soft pubic fur, pressing against the button of her clitoris as his tongue lapped at her cuntal crevice below. The strong muscles around Erica's vulva went taut, then quivered uncontrollably in lewd anticipation, tightening around the wedge of Jack's invading tongue. He slid forward an inch or two on the floor and stiffened his tongue in a sudden wet thrust ... he felt it entering her, sliding up into the oozing tunnel of her cunt, until his tongue was fully extended out of his mouth, buried as far as it could reach up inside Erica's pleasure-craving body-fucking her cunt!
"Oh Jesus Christ-yes, yes, fuck yes!" Erica gasped, her body shaking with arousal. She was pulling Jack's head so hard against her crotch that her breasts and arms trembled from the strain, grinding her cunt against his slavering mouth in a slow, torturous circle, screwing her pussy down around the length of his tongue. Jack's lips were sealed against her labia, his nose inhaling her lust, his mouth filling up and spilling over with the sweet slippery juices pouring out of her convulsing cunt. Erica sounded breathless and he knew that she was already close to coming when she groaned, "Lick me, baby ... lick me, lick me, lick me! Lick me all over-oh Christ yes!"
Jack rolled his imprisoned tongue from side to side, pushing it like an electric prod against the shuddering walls of her cuntal passageway. His tongue was straining out between his teeth, rammed deep into the softness of her vaginal flesh, her wet pussy hair tickling his nose. Her muscles were tightening, bearing down, as though she intended to crush his tongue with her cunt, or tear it off at its base and leave it wriggling frantically up inside her pussy like a phallic worm to fuck her forever.
He pulled his tongue back in sheer self-defense, through the narrow, convulsive tunnel and out of her cunt. Erica moaned with disappointment, pushing his face against her, grinding her hips desperately until she had smeared her cunt juices all over Jack's handsome, flushed face. He cupped his hands under her ass cheeks to steady her and lapped his tongue up between her oozing pussy lips again. This time, the tip of his tongue touched her clitoris, and a shuddering response tore right through her body.
"Do it, Jack!" she screamed. "Do it! Make me come-make me cornel Please, oh please-!"
He stroked her clitoris with the flat of his wet tongue, aware of how intense the pleasure must be that he was licking into her body ... his tongue moved slowly and deliberately, winding its way up between her fluttering lips, avoiding the orifice itself as it spasmed with frustration, and tickling wetly over the very tip of her clit once more.
Her love bud was hard and round under his tongue, and Jack rolled it around, pushing it back and forth, letting his saliva leak into the dent between Erica's pussy lips where her clit was located. He kissed the clitoris hard, forcing it to retract and bury itself inside those slippery, agitated folds of flesh, until just the very tip, the most sensitive part, was still exposed to the whiplash pressure of his tongue.
Jack began to tease it, provocatively at first but then with increasing savagery-rubbing his tongue in a blur of motion back and forth across that nerval focal point. His tongue was stiff and hard, and his strokes with it were powerful, like repeated blows against Erica's vulnerable clit; he could feel his tongue-tip really digging in, near the base of the tiny sex organ, flattening it as he licked across its point ... again and again he tormented her clitoris until it was hugely swollen between his teeth.
"Oh-oh!-Oh, oh!" Erica groaned, her shrill cries rising in pitch as her pleasure got more and more intense. Her knuckles were white as she gripped. Jack by the hair, and she was now humping the entire underside of her pussy wetly up into his face, the loud slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh ringing in her cunt lapper's ears as he fed greedily on her twat. "Oh! ... Oh! ... OH!!!"
Jack's fingertips dug into the soft mounds of her buttocks, pulling Erica tightly against his devouring mouth. His head was rolling along with her frantic humping motions, his tongue pursuing her clit, never allowing it for an instant to escape from the lashing stimulation of his wet tongue ... he tormented her burning love button, licking it, teasing it, until suddenly it exploded under his tongue in a violent series of uncontrollable pulsations.
"OH!!!" Erica shrieked, her voice piercing as it emerged from her throat. Her body shook powerfully, from one end to the other, as if the orgasmic pleasure she was experiencing began not in her vagina itself but in her extremities, and had to spread slowly and deliciously from them toward her blazing pussy. Her climatic convulsions undulated erotically the full length of her body, like some shattering tidal wave of erotic sensation. "I'm ... coming! Oh, Jesus Christ yes-at last-I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Jack knew that she was ... he could feel her sweet convulsions of pleasure washing across his lips as the tide of orgasm peaked and broke over the edge of her cunt, flooding his face. Erica's thighs tensed, pressing themselves so firmly around his neck that Jack could barely hear her moans of excitement. Her wantonly grinding hips writhed even more violently, then abruptly froze in the intensity of her orgasm, unable to move because of an instinctive fear of missing something, or interrupting the furious come in mid-spasm ... she was pulling on Jack's disheveled hair like a demented woman, as though she wanted to try to jam his whole head right up into her cunt. His captive tongue slithered wildly up and down between her pussy lips, then up over the throbbing bud of her exploding clitoris again, never slackening the lewd pace of his licking, never giving her body a moment in which to descend from its sustained high of climatic bliss.
"Oh, Jesus, Jack-you fucker-I'm coming, still coming! It's fantastic ... absolutely fantastic! Don't stop! Oh, don't stop, don't you dare-!"
He could feel the orgasm reaching its peak of intensity far up inside of her, going off like a firecracker blazing a trail through her vagina, and he jerked his tongue away from her clitoris. His mouth slipped down an inch or so, and he jammed his tongue forward stiffly, ramming it far up inside her helplessly creaming cunt.
"Oh Jesus!" Erica cried. "I'm coming again! Don't stop, baby! Not now! Don't stop! Fuck me with that tongue! Fuck my cunt, make it come! Christ, that feels wonderful, it's wonderful-ahhhh yessss fuck it with your tongue-make it come again, come come come!"
His tongue tingled from the heat of her excitement as her pussy fluids fairly shot into his mouth, filling it with the syrupy by-product of her orgasm, the channel of her cunt quaking frantically against his fucking tongue as he drove it in and out of her twat, pulling it all the way back to the flaps of her vaginal lips only to thrust it roughly forward again to refill her craving orifice as she came and came against his mouth. His tongue slid effortlessly in and out of her cunt, lubricated by a sensuous bath of vaginal liquids, making a moist slurping and sucking noise as it fucked Erica through yet another orgasm.
"Oh God, oh God-oh God oh God God God!" she kept moaning helplessly as her pussy spasmed, completely out of control and all but turning itself inside out with near-intolerable wrenching waves of sexual pleasure. "Oh God!"
In a quick, fluid motion, Jack pulled his weary tongue completely out of Erica's wildly orgasming cunt, and staggered to his feet ... reluctantly, Erica's legs unwound from around his neck, falling from his shoulders as Jack straightened himself. He was holding onto the arms of her swivel chair for support, his knees pressed against the cushion under her ass; the sudden movement of his body slid Erica's further down in the seat, her head going lower, her parted thighs and blatantly preferred pussy shoved above her torso. Jack was looking down between her thighs, at that wet, open cunt staring hungrily back up at him. Erica was almost bent in half now, with her legs resting against Jack's chest and her feet kicking the air on either side of his head. And Jack's cock was stiff and throbbing with lust only an inch or two above the mound of her cunt.
He grasped his prick in one hand and bent his knees slightly, guiding the swollen, purplish-colored head of his erection toward the wet groove of Erica's pussy. He pushed his cock between the fat lips, feeling the heat of her vaginal cavity immediately penetrate to the core of his horny prick. Jack bent forward a little more, leaning over her, lowering himself ... his cock went in-all the way in-all the way into Erica's burning-hot cunt.
"Yes!" she cried, the lingering after-effects of her multiple orgasms still rippling through her body. Her face was screwed up into a look of intense, greedy, triumphant pleasure, her eyes closed, her mouth open and gasping for air, her carefully-applied make-up streaked with sweat. She reached out and down, groping blindly for his cock, to push it deeper into her body. "Fuck me, Jack! Oh, yes! Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard! Fuck me now!"
Jack pushed in, as deep as he could get his prick, watching as his tool disappeared between the vaginal lips and into the yawning mouth of Erica's hairy cunt. He could see his own dark pubic hairs jutting from his open fly, rubbing erotically against the blonde strands of Erica's damp crotch on either side of their connected genitals. The heat of her body enveloped his prick like a warm, wet bath, and he could feel her muscles pulse and shiver as they instinctively applied pressure all along his thick cockshaft. Wetness oozed from her overexcited pussy, ripping down over the cheeks of her ass. Her legs were tense with excitement, pressing hard against Jack's chest, as though she were trying to push him away from her ... but she wasn't, of course; she was really trying to intensify her pleasure by straining her cunt against the throbbing hardness of his satisfyingly large and potent prick. The tips of her expensive imported shoes were aimed directly at the ceiling as she held on to him with her thighs and calves.
Jack began to fuck her, deeply, slowly, watching his cock as it slid in and out of her cunt. He thrust into her dry, and came out again wet, his shaft coated and soothed by her orgasmic lubrications. His prick looked extraordinarily aroused, thick and powerful as it parted the clinging lips of her pussy with no effort or friction at all. He pulled back, all the way, until he could see the ridge of his cockhead between the spasming folds of her cunt lips; then he thrust forward again, burying himself to the hilt in her until their bodies collided and his cock was deep inside her cunt.
"I'm going to come ... again!" Erica gasped in disbelief, saliva dribbling from the corners of her lips. Her hair was strewn across the back of the chair like rays of sunlight. She was holding Jack's balls in her hand, squeezing them gently as his prick pumped in and out of her gripping pussy. She was breathing with effort, loudly, as though the air in her lungs was too thin and couldn't feed the blazing inferno between her thighs. The hem of her skirt was pushed all the way up, tucked under her breasts. "Fuck me, Jack," she begged breathlessly, sounding almost desperate-as though he was about to stop now! "Fuck me-I think I'm going to come again!"
His cock felt brutal as it rammed in and out of her with completely unrestrained lust. Jack watched, excited, as his penis seemed to take command of his body, of her pussy, bending Erica almost double each time it thrust deep into her and made her whole body shudder and convulse in response, reducing her to so much jelly-like flesh quivering helplessly around the potent column that was filling and emptying her hysterically hungry cunt. Jack had to admit that it turned him on to see Erica like this-psychologically as well as just physically. She was such a strong-willed, independent, determined woman in every other situation that it was almost intolerably exciting to see her responding with such slavish abandon to the drilling thrusts of his piston-like prick ... Jack knew, on such occasions, that he was breaking through Erica's defenses, probing deep into the secret core of her personality with his cock.
And Erica was responding to him, to the steady in-and-out rhythm of his penetrating prick, responding wildly to the pleasure his body was giving hers. In the mindlessness of her sexual needs, all of the usual professional and social barriers that had once separated her from Jack began to crumble and disintegrate. He looked down at her, watching her, watching the hot wet lips of her cunt writhing around the inflexible shaft of his cock. She was indifferent, right now, to her executive position-her independence-her very sense of ego itself. Erica Selwyn was responding sexually to him, body and soul, holding nothing of herself back from him; and that, more than the act itself, really turned Jack on ... he had come to admire and respect and, indeed, envy her as he had very few women in his life, and to know that Erica was now returning those feelings in a way-to know that he was satisfying her most basic lusts, fucking her, making her come-it was a powerful, almost overwhelming realization.
"Jack, oh Jack," Erica moaned, jamming a clenched fist into her open mouth and biting down hard until her teeth marked her own knuckles. Her whole body hunched up toward his plunging prickshaft as he thrust it deep into her again. A wild cry escaped from her lips, and he felt her vaginal muscles suddenly press in sharply against his buried cockshaft and remain fixed, gripping it as it throbbed with near-agonizing arousal. "Ohhh, I-I'm ... coming, ahhh! Coming, Jack ... comingl Oh God, I'm comingll!"
Jack leaned his entire muscular weight into her cunt, moving his hands until they had a firm grip on the back of the chair. He stiffened his spine, making his legs rigid, until his body formed a straight verticle line across the center of her cunt. His ass muscles tightened, and he pulled the chair roughly against him, shoving his cock deeper into the seething vortex of Erica's cunt. The entire length of his shaft was buried inside her; he could penetrate her no farther. He began to come.
The force of his long-delayed ejaculation was like liquid flame being poured out of the boiling well of his balls. Jack could feel the semen moving inside him, surging up like a raging river about to overflow its banks, rushing down into his imprisoned prick and flying through its center. His sperm shot out like so much molten lava, spilling wetly, thickly, potently deep into the shudderingly responsive passageway provided by Erica's cunt. Each burst of fluid felt like a hot shower of sparks shooting from the tip of his cock as it spewed into her. Jack's prick was immediately bathed in a flood of its own burning wetness, sperm coating the shaft in the thick slimy cream of his own orgasmic release.
"Ahhhhh ... uhhhhh ... unnnnnhhh!" he grunted, gnashing his teeth together in his efforts to force the orgasm from his body. The pleasure was so intense it was almost blinding. Another fierce wave of semen exploded from the tip of his prick, and Jack sucked in his breath and held it as the stabbing sensations of unloading his come pierced him repeatedly. Sperm started to ooze from the dilated opening of Erica's pussy, dripping sluggishly down over the cheeks of her ass, staining the chair cushion and the front of Jack's pants. "Oh, oh ... uhhh!" Jack groaned again as he went on ejaculating, in a seemingly endless rush of intense delight.
"Don't stop, baby," Erica cried, her voice a-strident counterpoint to Jack's helpless moans of pleasure. "Don't stop ... don't! I'm still coming ... I'm still-ohhhhh fuck!"
They went on humping their bodies together like that, in bestial abandon, for what seemed like an eternity, and when they had both finished coming, Jack realized that the violent exertions of their fucking had managed to push the chair halfway across Erica's office. Now the chair was lodged firmly against the wall behind the desk, the weight of Jack's exhausted body holding it in place, tilted against the paneling. Jack dropped to his knees between Erica's thighs, and the chair squealed in relief as its seat righted itself. Jack lowered his head between Erica's still-trembling thighs and began to lick her spent, semen-glutted cunt ... and Erica came at least twice more. The second climax was so intense that it was actually painful for her, and she had to pull Jack away from her pussy by his hair to call a firm halt to their sexual play.
Gayle was in her office when Jack left Erica alone to recover from the fucking and cuntlapping he had treated her to so generously. Gayle was talking on the phone, and looked surprised when she saw her husband coming out of Erica's office, across the hall from hers, through her open door. Jack sat on the edge of Gayle's desk until she was finished with her phone conversation, feeling just the slightest bit guilty and nervous but assuring himself that he was a good enough actor to conceal it from his wife. Even if he had had to fuck his way into a juicy part in one of daytime television's most popular and prestigious serial dramas, as Erica insisted on calling the show. She hated the term soap opera, even though she'd spent most of her adult life fighting for the chance to produce one, as she did now.
"Hi, darling," Gayle said as she replaced the receiver. "I didn't know you were in there ... when did you get here?" She rose and came around her desk to him.
"You were out to lunch, so-after rehearsal-I decided to stop in to see Erica about, uh, some lines in the script for this afternoon that I didn't like."
"Oh, God. Playing the prima donna around here already?" Gayle slid her arms around Jack's neck and, after a quick, furtive look toward the open door and the corridor, gave him a firm kiss on the lips. Her tongue was soft and wet as it slid inside Jack's mouth, and for a moment he was afraid she would be able to taste or smell the lingering wetness of Erica's cunt. Jack quickly broke the kiss off, smiling at her.
"Hey, you're going to get us both fired for carrying on like that," he told her, pretending to be upset. "That's all you have to do-get caught goofing off before a taping by Erica." Guilt throbbed in his brain.
Gayle laughed. "Don't you worry, darling-she'd never fire me. She'd be too afraid of losing you."
"Still," Jack insisted, pushing her away and moving his eyes from her face, "it's not such a good idea. I don't like people being reminded that I only got this job because I'm the head writer's husband and they wanted you too badly to say no to auditioning me."
"You worry about that too much, Jack."
"I can't help it. This part is important to me."
"And you've taken it and run away with it, so now you're important to the success of the show. You're the most popular character and Erica knows it. You've helped us boost those sagging ratings that The Heart Has Secrets had before she hired us-"
"It's not just that. I mean, of course I'm glad the show's a success. It's just that-Erica seems to accept and respect me as a serious actor. And that's important to me. Much more important than being in a popular show or even being able to bring home money regularly now, instead of letting you support me. I've waited all my life for a big opportunity like this. I don't want to blow it now."
Gayle sighed, shaking her head. "Well, you aren't in any danger of doing that, as far as I can see. Twice already Erica's asked me especially to beef up your part. What was it you didn't like about today's script?"
Jack now had to come up with a diplomatic way to get out of his earlier lie. "Oh, it wasn't anything in what you wrote ... it was, uh, the polishing that that assistant of yours did, in the big argument scene with Valerie today. She has a taste for the melodramatic and I thought, when I read it over this morning, that it was starting to turn into a crude shouting match. You can't have both characters in a scene like that come on as unsympathetic-right? The audience ought to be able to root for one or the other. Erica agreed-"
Gayle's eyes widened. "She went over the script with you and agreed to the changes you wanted?"
Jack could feel the guilt flushing his cheeks. "Uh, yeah. Well, some of them, anyway ... that's why we took so long in there."
To his immeasurable relief, Gayle smiled, nodding. "Very good, darling. Take it from me, Erica Selwyn wouldn't do that for just any actor. You're her 'discovery,' for one thing-and you've become a special asset to her show, for another. Congratulations."
Jack shifted uncomfortable from one foot to the other and back again. "Well, I'd better get a move on ... dress rehearsal and then we go right on to the taping, starting in about half an hour."
"Are you going straight home after the taping, darling?"
Jack thought for a moment. "No ... I guess I'll go to the studio for a while. I want to-get some work done on the book." Like most actors, successful or otherwise, Jack was convinced that he was multi-talented and could, given the opportunity, become a professional writer like his wife-who humored him.
"Oh. Will you be home for dinner, then? I'm going to do next week's script outline at home tonight."
"No, uh, probably not. Don't wait for me. I've got a lot of-work-to do."
Gayle kissed him briefly on the lips, her tongue sneaking into his mouth. "We're both turning into workaholics, now that we're finally steadily employed. Just make sure you're home for bed, darling," she said, an indecent twinkle in her eye. She patted the crotch of Jack's pants and his sleeping cock throbbed. "You know I can't get to sleep after a busy day without my ... sleep injection."
Jack kissed her on the forehead. "You're obscene, you know that?"
"Of course I do, darling. And thank God for it. It's why I got hired. It takes a fairly depraved imagination to create this show, you know. I hope the taping goes well. I'll drop in to watch if I have time."
Jack waved goodbye to her, and, while he was waiting for the elevator, he sensed his mood shifting ... the guilt within him was slowly ebbing away again, and being replaced by a strange, almost perverse sense of arrogant macho pride. He felt his chest expanding as he drew in deep breaths, and his treacherous prick stiffening in his pants. Good God, what if he sprang a hard-on halfway through today's taping?! They'd have to start shooting him from the waist up ... and he'd probably blow half his lines until his erection subsided.
If so, too bad, he decided recklessly, his confidence returning. After all, Jack told himself smugly, it wasn't every guy who could sexually satisfy two uninhibited women, as he had been doing for the past couple of months. He was sure, in fact, that very few men had ever had such a juicy opportunity over a long period of time. He was fucking Erica at work in the mornings, behind Gayle's back-literally!-and Gayle at night. Erica, his mistress, and Gayle, his wife ... it was a situation right out of The Heart Has Secrets, the sexy soap in which all three of them were so intimately involved.
The elevator doors finally opened, and Jack stepped into the empty car that would take him downstairs to his dressing room. He'd just given two private performances-one for Erica's benefit, another for Gayle's, to keep her unsuspecting. Now it was time to perform for all those thousands of women out there in front of their television sets.
CHAPTER THREE
That evening, at home alone, Gayle waited dinner for as long as her angrily growling stomach would hold out. When Jack still didn't make his appearance, she resigned herself to eating alone. There was something especially sad about a married woman having to eat alone at night, making even the tastiest food seem to lose all its flavor and appeal. Their apartment itself felt empty, echoing the silence back at her as she got busy in the kitchen. Gayle fixed herself a functional meal-leftover meat loaf from the night before, some frozen french fries, and lettuce and tomato with lots of Italian dressing poured over them. As hungry as she had been, she found herself dawdling over the plate, forced to finish the last few bites. As she cut into the tomato slices, the clicking noise of her knife and fork grated on her spine and nerves, the way a teacher's fingernail can sometimes scrape across a blackboard at school.
More than once she was tempted to call Jack at his so-called studio, to ask when he was going to be home, and-Gayle had to force herself to admit it-to check up on him, make sure he was really there. But she stopped herself from giving in to the jealous, selfish impulse before she got near the phone. Past experience had taught her how Jack would react if she did interrupt him in the throes of literary creation. At best, he would turn into a ranting and raving lunatic, fuming and sputtering about how she had wrecked his concentration, and how the careful and fragile process of literary construction had been callously shattered by her unwelcome intrusion, and how the fuck would she like it if he interrupted her in the middle of her latest script for The Heart Has Secrets at home some night?! And Jack would be right, even if he approached the matter from an amateur's viewpoint. Living with a writer was nothing like living with a real person at times ... and, to a man who had career ambitions of his own, unfulfilled until very recently, being married to a successful woman writer must have been a traumatic adjustment to have to make. Depending on how the show was going, Jack was either temperamental or moody. But always, he was unpredictable.
Maybe that was why she loved him.
He would be exhausted tonight, she suspected. When he came home this late after a day at the studio he would either be too tired to eat or he would have grabbed something on his way to or from his studio ... he'd be tired and tense from having put in a double day's work, and all he'd want to do would be to go to bed.
Gayle decided she would help him unwind. A little sip of wine and a joint, perhaps, and they could go to bed together, and with the edginess worn smooth, Jack's mood would then be one of overflowing energy that would have to be used up-somehow. Some of their best lovemaking happened in just such circumstances lately. Gayle wanted to do everything possible to get that horny atmosphere going tonight. Being alone all evening made her crave attention, and if she had to cold-bloodedly set out to seduce her own stud husband to get that attention, it would be worth it once they started fucking.
She washed the dishes from her meal as quickly as possible, then did a little straightening around the apartment. The bed was unmade from that morning, so Gayle pulled it into shape, carefully folding the blankets back, trying to make it as comfortable and seductive-looking as she could. A shower, she thought, after rolling the joint and setting it aside. First, I'll take a nice long hot shower, then put on that sexy nightgown, and dab myself strategically with a really strong, musky perfume ... and then I'll wait for Jack to come home to his-surprise. His sex surprise!
She ought to work, she thought guiltily ... but fuck it! The scripts for the show were going well. She had the basic dramatic situations and complications planned for a month in advance, at this rate the characters would practically write their own lines.
Gayle went past her desk without looking at it, took a bottle of wine from the cupboard, and placed it in the refrigerator to chill. She got out two of their better wine glasses and set them up on the dining room table, next to the joint. She lit the candle on the table and shut off the overhead light. Then she burned a cone of incense to mask the greasy smell of cooked food, and went into the bedroom to get undressed for her shower. Their bedroom was a small square room, and the battered furniture in it looked strangely out of place among the other symbols of their new lifestyle. She and Jack had invested in the second or third-hand bedroom set when they'd gotten married. Their whole outlook on life had, paradoxically, been much more middle class and straight back then, when they didn't have the money or security to back it up. The bedframe, dressing table, and two chests of drawers were scarred and peeling, but they kept it all for sentimental reasons even though they'd replaced everything else. It was a way of reminding themselves of how far they'd progressed.
Gayle stood in front of the mirror and studied her reflection, frowning. Her mood was bordering on a dulling fatigue, and the way she saw herself inevitably depended upon that ... she decided, tonight, that she was really only moderately attractive ... tonight, she could see, or imagined that she saw, lines of age beginning to line her face, and she had to reassure herself that she was only twenty-eight, for Christ's sake. Even her eyes looked worn and colorless, instead of their normal warm grey; her mouth was grim and pouted, and she forced herself to smile, showing her good teeth. She ran her tongue over her lips, wetting them, to give them a little shine and color.
You're getting old, Gayle, baby, she lectured herself pitilessly. Old ... you're really getting old, and just when you've started to be able to afford to pamper yourself a little. It just doesn't seem fair!
Shrugging at her reflection, she began to undress. Although she felt obligated to imitate Erica and the attractive young secretaries at the studio by wearing expensive outfits at work, she'd changed, immediately upon getting home, into faded jeans, suede boots, and a shapeless sweater. Gayle pulled the sweater free from the top of her tight jeans, yanking it all the way up her torso, bunching it up under her chin. Her breasts were small and firm-"pert" was probably the right word for it, she thought optimistically-inside the lacy thin cups of her bra, the undergarment a gleaming white against the pale pink of her sweater-warmed flesh. She pulled the sweater the rest of the way up, over her head, and dropped it behind her, onto the bed.
The bones of her chest and shoulders made her look rather gaunt in this strong light, and Gayle hated staring at them although she couldn't stop it. For a moment, she wished she had been endowed like Erica, with huge, heavy, swollen-looking breasts-real cow udders. Gayle was willing to bet that Erica could never see her bones pushing up through her flesh. The only consolation was the improvement over the way Gayle had used to look: when she'd first met Jack she'd been a size five-cadaverously gaunt, thin enough to be a model. Now, at least, she had improved to "slender," wearing a size nine or ten, depending upon the style....
"You're getting fat, too, old girl, she warned herself. Old and fat. Pretty soon you'll be seeing grey hairs-Jesus, don't even think about that!!!
She finished undressing, unfastening her wide-buckled belt and unzipping the front of the jeans, then sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull her boots off and slide the jeans the rest of the way down. She stood up in front of the mirror again, examining herself critically-anxiously, even.
Besides her breasts being too small, in her opinion, her only other real shortcoming was that she had no hips to speak of ... they did sort of flare out sleekly from the flat line of her tummy, but nothing like other women she knew. Again she found herself envying Erica ... why was it that some women seemed to get everything out of life? Looks, brains, money, respect from their fellow workers, a good figure-everything a cunt could possibly want, Gayle decided crudely. For one day-just one!-she wished she could be built like that, really stacked: massive tits, round, full hips, a hard firm but highly voluptuous ass, and legs that tapered like marble columns ... just one Goddamned day-or night!
Still, the picture she made in the mirror wasn't all that bad. There wasn't a trace of flab to be seen on her. Her panties, all she still had on, were creamy white, stretched taut across the lush mound of her cunt, the dark triangle of her pussy hair visible through the elastic material like a smudge. Gayle's thighs were slim but well-shaped, as firm and youthful as they had been in her teens ... she looked all the way down them, then up again, at her face, shrugging resignedly as she began to remove her panties.
Naked, her mood altered subtly. She couldn't help but admire the firmness of her breasts. After all, she was twenty-eight, and her tits should have begun to sag, just a little, certainly? But they hadn't and remained firm and shapely, like two ripe apples, the flesh pink and unmarred, almost rosy around the nipples. The nipples themselves were stiff and long, so long that they gave the mounds an aggressive, forward-thrusting boldness. Gayle flicked the nipple of her right breast with a fingernail, watching how it snapped stiffly up and down in response. A tingling warmth spread down through her body at even so slight a stimulation, and she felt her cheeks growing hot. She smiled.
Wait ... wait for Jack to come home ... save it for him!
But she was feeling a little selfish this evening, and her hands continued downward in their exploration of her body and its responses. She watched-as though it were happening to someone else-in the mirror as her other hand slid up to her other, neglected breast. Gayle cupped both mounds between her tightening fingers, savoring the hot rush of pleasure from the contact. She watched her fingertips sink into the pliant flesh, leaving little white marks on her pink skin.
She spread her thighs-not enough for any unseen observer to notice, but enough to confirm her suspicion that there was already a degree of wetness and excitement in her loins. The downy-looking brown fur on her pussy mound rippled, like waves in sluggishly-moving water, or tall grass in a light breeze ... Gayle could feel the lips of her cunt opening silently, in preparation, and the nipple-like bud of her hardening clitoris peeping out from the flaps at the top. She cupped the mound in her hand, sighing involuntarily at the sudden hot flash of arousal the pressure sent through her vagina. Immediately, too, she felt the wetness that had already started to collect between the lips of her hungry pussy. The stiffness of her clit was obvious as it pushed out against her fondling palm, throbbing like a racing pulse.
Gayle's fingertips slid upward, parting the hair, touching-tentatively-the stickiness seeping from her cunt. She shivered, the sensation making her thighs tense, almost trapping her hand between them to press it harder against her pussy. She could feel the vibrant warmth of her growing excitement, flowing out of the gasping mouth of her cunt like hot air. The fingernail of her middle finger scraped over the moist lining, and she felt the suction from deep inside her body, kissing the finger, pulling on it, trying to lure it up into the sweltering crevice of her cunt. Her finger stiffened against her, and, with her eyes closed as though to shut out her rising excitement, she began to insert the finger, pushing it slowly but steadily further and further up into herself, fighting for self-control as the lustful shudders shook her body.
Gayle had no inhibitions about masturbation, refusing even to think of it as a substitute, adequate or otherwise, for actual intercourse ... no, playing with yourself was something quite different, and, in its way, just as satisfying as the tremendous orgasms Jack treated her to on one of their good nights.
Still, she wished Jack Would get his ass the fuck home ... her mind automatically using the vulgar words, ass and fuck, to further excite herself in preparation for the autoerotic act she intended. At times like these, when she chose to arouse herself with a finger or two thrust lewdly deep into her pussy, she was inevitably reminded of the skill with which Jack would combine manual stimulation of her private parts with cunnilingus and fucking, to really turn her on. Just thinking about some of the wild sessions they'd had in this room, in the nearby, waiting bed, gave Gayle a terrible desire to be fucked. She could almost feel the imaginary presence of Jack now as her finger penetrated her to its fullest possible extent and the tight muscles of her cervix clamped down against the invading probe fiercely, making her clit and the walls of her vagina throb heatedly in anticipation. Jack was climbing on the bed to mount her now and she was watching him, fascinated by the way his prick grew and grew, stiffening to gross, obscene dimensions as it swayed in front of him like an elephant's trunk ... God, it was such a sex trip, so wild and hot, just to watch a man's cock swell, knowing that within breathless, feverish minutes it would all be jammed deep into her cunt!
Gayle abandoned her stance in front of the mirror and lay down on the bed, closing her eyes to maintain the erotic illusions she was creating. She always fantasized while she masturbated-and sometimes, although she'd never admit it to him, while she was screwing Jack. Bizarre, whorish fantasies ... about perverted, excessive acts and practices ... she cupped one breast bud and rubbed saliva-wetted fingertips over its nipple.
"That's it, darling," she murmured throatily, writhing on the bed. "lick it! Lick my tit good! Suck it if you want to ... no? Well, fuck you, then, buster, I don't give a shit, just lick it, mmmmm, yesssss, like that, oh God! Do it! Feel my little red button stiffening up, getting hot and horny? That's just for you, baby, just for you...."
She wasn't addressing Jack, only an imaginary stud fucker of gross proportions and incredible staying power-a penis that happened to be attached to a male body, a body only vaguely outlined in her mind and definitely subordinate to the sex organ it was using to pleasure her with, at her command, of course. Her ass cheeks were grinding against the sheets under her ... Gayle knew that her cunt must be smoking hot by now, it felt positively steamy around her embedded and gently stroking finger!-but no, not yet-she wasn't going to really finger-fuck herself to orgasm, not just yet! She wanted to draw this out, make the most of it. She wetted her hand at her mouth again and kept the slippery fingertips moving wantonly over both hard points of her breasts. Her free hand reached out, found the nightstand, opened the bottom drawer, grasped the cool plastic shaft of the battery-operated vibrator she kept there for such solo flights into the world of pleasure. She placed the device on the bed by her hip and then went on embellishing her fantasy, pushing her wet hand down to her belly, digging the same finger into her vaginal groove again.
She giggled breathlessly. "Tongue me! Stick your tongue up my cunt and lick it!" Even when Jack went down on her, gave her that uniquely satisfying head that he seemed to enjoy as much as she did, she rarely dared to use such direct, unvarnished terms to describe it with him ... a certain modesty, leftover from her single days when, despite a reasonably active sex life, she hadn't wanted to come across as cheap, lingered even now after three years of marriage. Except when she jerked off, like now! Then gutter language positively flowed from her lips, like a good wet come down below, each lurid expression burning itself like a fiery brand into her brain and her cunt, urging her on to higher and higher plateaus of masturbatory bliss, all but driving her insane with lust for her own body and the responses she knew how to draw from it.
"Suck my cunt with that hot tongue!" she gasped. On cue, her wet hand trailed down to her dark pubic fur. Using her own fingers, she spread her cunt brazenly wide open for the wet hand, the imaginary male eyes and fingers and mouth that were waiting to service her at her bidding. She began stroking the moist, hot flesh of her inner lips.
"Oh, you're fucking your tongue in and out of me there!" she groaned. "But you're only teasing me with it! Don't fuck around with me, you bastard, stick something in there and fuck it right! Make it come!"
Another verbal cue-another act of self-pleasuring. Her hair was spread over the pillow now from the frantic tossing of her head. Her eyes were squeezed so tightly shut from the effort she was making to arouse herself that her eyelids seemed to vibrate right along with her clitoris and erect, throbbing nipples. She was really getting in an erotic fantasy now and her whole body was hot and wet, not just her pussy-sliding about on the rumpled sheets from side to side, her legs opening and closing like a pair of scissors, wandering aimlessly, restlessly over the mattress that rocked gently under her constantly shifting weight as she fingered herself shamelessly, teasing all the most sensitive parts of her sex organs. She had long, nice legs-all the looking in the mirror had reassured her on that point-lightly freckled in places, as was the rest of her body except for the glaring whiteness of her boyishly shaped, conical-nippled tits and the firm, clefted mounds of her ass.
"Oh! Oh fuck! Ohhhhh!" The whimpers and gasps were now involuntary on Gayle's part; so immersed in her sexy daydream was she by now that she actually had herself fooled for a moment as her index finger joined the middle one inside her seethingly responsive, cock-craving pussy. "Shove it in, deeper, ah deeper, I can hardly feel that prick of yours! Find my clit and play with it! Pinch it! Rub it! Go on, do it God damn you! Do as I tell you! Pinch it-ahhh, not so fucking hard, it's the only clit I've got, don't tear it right off my cunt! Yes! Christ, yes! Fuck! Fuck and suck! Cock! Cunt! Clit!"
The alert, resourceful, ever-dependable imagination that was such an asset to Gayle when she worked on her scripts for the soap opera was just as valuable when she played with herself. Her fantasizing shifted from general, inprecise images of fucking and sucking and naked, sweaty bodies writhing together in erotic abandon, to more concrete and detailed scenarios of sexual excess.
She was walking along a crowded street downtown, on her way home from work. Suddenly, she was overtaken by two burly men in black raincoats-spy stereotypes. They forced her, kicking and screaming, into a car parked nearby, and tied a blindfold over her eyes. After driving for some time, the car stopped ... still struggling desperately, but all the whole acutely conscious of her panties being plastered against her pussy lips by her copious, helpless sexual self-lubrication, Gayle was dragged out of the car, forced through a doorway and up a flight of stairs, down a long corridor and through another door....
Now, at last, her captors tore the blindfold off, and, blinking, she found herself in what appeared to be a laboratory of some bizarre sort. The room was immaculately clean and smelled strongly and unpleasantly of disinfectant. The harsh glare from overhead lights intensified the brightness of the bare white walls. An assortment of peculiar and mystifying equipment surrounded her-and some unnervingly phallic-shaped instruments reposed in a glass case against the wall. In the middle of the room was a gleaming chrome operating table with a crisp white sheet draped over it.
Until now I have been terrified, Gayle's inner voice told her, improvising a first-person narrative of the grotesque scene, but now I find myself more curious than truly afraid. A deep male voice gives blunt instructions in a language unfamiliar to me over an intercom system. I am seized, stripped naked by a brute force and shackled to the table with my legs spread obscenely wide open.
A Chinese man enters the room from a secret door that opens in one wall and seems very far away. He slides a panel under my behind before lubricating and inserting a small mechanical dildo into my asshole. Then he attaches it to a machine under the table that begins to pump the artificial prick in and out of my anus continuously. He spreads the lips of my vagina and holds them painfully wide apart with small clips and wires attached to the table. I am becoming thoroughly aroused by all this impersonal sexual activity, the man's rubber-gloved hands on my naked and vulnerable body, his expressionless slitted eyes....
The Chinese man steps aside and my two faceless captors appear. They start fondling and sucking my breasts. No words have yet been spoken by any of these coldly efficient sex technicians as they experiment on my body.
"She's aroused and ovulating, Doctor Weird," one of the men sucking my tits announces in mid-lick.
"Good," the Oriental, Doctor Weird, replies-and for the first time there is a glimmer of lustful satisfaction in his staring, objectively observing eyes. He flips a switch and suddenly a thin plastic tube emerges from a hole in the ceiling and slowly snakes its twisted way down to an inch above my rigid clitoris. A pulsating stream of deliciously warm air from the end of the table flows over my hot, swollen clit and cunt lips and fills the outer area of my exposed, spread vagina. I'm extremely turned on now, writhing uselessly against my bonds, groaning and squealing like a bitch in heat, but I can barely express my agony of erotic frustration because I am so tightly strapped down....
Gayle heard herself panting hoarsely for breath. She was drenched in her own sweat. God, things were coming apart, she was so fucking turned on by this ridiculous fantasy! But she could picture it all actually taking place, as though in a B-grade horror movie ... and what was she trying to do to herself, shove her cunt full of all five fingers and her wrist besides?! She was finger-fucking herself so violently it was beginning to hurt!
But, banishing all outside thought from her mind, Gayle's brain cells went on fabricating more deliriously erotic illusions. Her fingers, all five of them, were pushed inside her cunt, and only now, when she had begun to concentrate on them again, did her stretched pussy start to ache ... but it was a heavenly ache, one she hadn't felt in ages, not even when Jack fucked her to repeated orgasms, so she reveled in it. She withdrew two fingers gingerly, to make the feeling last, as she returned to the laboratory of the infamous sex criminal, Doctor Weird....
"Prepare the Sex Ray!" the Chinese man cried shrilly, leaning over Gayle's torso with an evil grin on his face to examine the flushed, distended condition of her genitals more closely as the tube went on pumping warm, stimulating air over her throbbing clit.
His two assistants stopped molesting Gayle long enough to fetch a thing that looked like a gigantic corkscrew with a chromium shaft running through it. Doctor Weird pointed it at Gayle's forehead. There was a shiny metal bowl at the end of the object, with an odd-looking red light bulb screwed into it.
"You have a very interesting gland, woman," Doctor Weird sneered, addressing her for the first time. "It is called the pineal body ... it is about the size of a pea and located at the top of your midbrain. It effects your entire endocrine system, and it can be stimulated by means of light. It will do you no good to close your eyes-the light can reach your optic nerve through your closed eyelids. Light waves of a certain wave length and intensity can disrupt your oestrus cycle and cause you to become sexually aroused. Highly aroused."
He was already busying himself fiddling with the controls on the penis-shaped corkscrew apparatus as he spoke ... she felt nothing at first. Then a sudden wave of heat washed over her entire body, and she felt herself breathing much faster. Doctor Weird hovered over the table, watching her intently. He, too, was panting. Gayle looked down at her bare breasts. The nipples had suddenly sprung fully erect and were throbbing agonizingly!
Doctor Weird fidgetted, like a spoiled child waiting for a promised treat.
Between Gayle's grossly outspread legs there was a warm, moist, sticky sensation. There was no doubt about it now. The sex machine was turning her on! She was as hot to fuck as she'd ever felt in her life!
Gayle gritted her teeth, fighting the outrageous horny sensations that were devastating her body from deep within her sex organs. But it was no use! That damned metal bowl and light bulb, blinking now, stared her in the face ... she closed her eyes, but the doctor was right: it didn't change anything. She felt a sense of shame at her unwilling readiness to screw, and told herself that, after all, her endocrine system or whatever was being played with without her permission. The thought of this nasty little man, or his two assistants, crawling on top of her to take advantage of her hotly juiced-up pussy was revolting-yet, bi-zarrely, perversely, it was highly stimulating as well!
Yes ... her whole body was deliciously flushed with heat, feeling incredibly alive and energetic, as though she could fuck all night and never tire. And she was sopping wet between her legs, her clitoris huge and hard. Doctor Weird grinned in triumph. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. He had a surprisingly large, blunt cylinder of a cock that stood out rock-hard and throbbing with lust. He began to masturbate as he watched her ... not very scientific, Gayle thought as her cunt convulsed with lewdness.
"The Bionic Man!" Doctor Weird grunted as he whacked away at himself. "The Bionic Man with his Bionic Cock! My master invention that will revolutionize the sex mores of the entire world-of the universe, and beyond!"
The two assistants tore their hot, horny eyes off of Gayle's bound, writhing, feverishly turned-on body long enough to go to the secret door and open it again. They returned to the table with Doctor Weird's creation towering between them ... a tall, beautiful black man, his face expressionless, his body nude and magnificently muscled, his cock-
God, his cock! His Bionic Cock!!!
It had to be all of twelve inches long, maybe longer, and proportionately thick-a steely column of polished black metal that gleamed evilly in the harsh laboratory lighting. The balls were massive too, twin spheres-the size of apples or oranges ... and, even as Gayle watched, horrified yet sick with desire, that cock hardened even more.
It expanded like a telescope, in retractable sections, growing and thickening....
Doctor Weird attached another gadget to her body, a humming vibrator of some sort strapped around her hips, that pressed down against her clitoris and began rotating and buzzing and burning, driving her insane with lust. The Bionic Stud mounted her, teasing her, putting just the tip of his surreal cock between the swollen lips of her vagina and rubbing it all around the wet, horny flesh there ... Gayle saw stars and skyrockets and little else as the tiny dildo pumped in and out of her asshole and the gadget rotated erotically against her clitoris.
"Yes!" she heard herself screaming. "In me! In me! Put that fucking thing in me! Up my cunt! Fuck me with it! Now, you bastards! Fuck me with it right now, oh now!"
Gayle returned to reality briefly, only long enough to gloat over her realization that this had to be one of her best jerk-off fantasies ever. The vibrator was in her hand although she couldn't remember having picked it up. Mindlessly, her hand was moving in toward her cunt, slipping the cold plastic tip of the device inside her pussy lips, wedging it deeper, urging it inside. Her vaginal muscles constricted in response and her nipples popped up twice as hard as they had been a moment before as the foreign instrument invaded her cuntal channel. She manipulated it awkwardly at first, but quickly got into the fierce fucking rhythm she wanted, and soon she was ramming the dildo into her chafing cunt brutally, with a reckless impetus, fucking herself ... her forearm muscles ached, her fingers went numb ... but still she fucked herself with the plastic prick.
"The Sex Ray!" Doctor Weird shrieked demonically, masturbating himself into a frenzy beside her writhing body as the black man mounted her and drove his huge prick deep into her cunt. "Increase the intensity! Double it! Triple it! I want that bitch burning hot inside when he impregnates her with his test-tube sperm!"
A loud buzz rang in Gayle's ears as the huge artificial penis screwed her with machine-like, pistoning efficiency. She had twisted the base of the vibrator to turn it on, and the batteries sent powerful ripples of motion through the elongated plastic tube that was now jammed half-way inside her cunt. The fierce buzzing sent shock waves of pleasure coursing up through her body until her tits were tingling, nipples quivering to be touched, to be pinched and sucked ... "Ahhh!" Gayle screamed. "I'm coming! Coming! Oh Christ yes-you're making me fucking come!"
Her ass cheeks ground viciously into the bedclothes and mattress, her heels flailing wildly at the sheets, calf muscles taut, thigh muscles straining. Her backbone arched her body higher and higher. The loud drone of the vibrator filled the bedroom, filled her cunt, filled her mind, a droning, buzzing hum that turned to a ringing, a chiming, a ding-ding-a-ling, first short then long....
The telephone. The insidious, thoughtless, motherfucking telephone beside the bed was ringing!
Gayle collapsed in a heap of shuddering, sweaty flesh, the vibrator still humming away inside her pussy, with her hands no longer needed to hold it in place. Her eyes open and glaring wildly, she slid toward the nightstand and groped for the phone, the vibrator slipping a few inches out of her cunt. She hadn't come.
"Hello!" she shrieked into the receiver. "What the fuck do you think you're doing calling me at this ungodly hour! You'd better cut it out, or-!" She stopped her hysterical, frustrated ranting as a familiar voice boomed, startled, in her ear:
"Gayle?! Is that you?!"
"Jack!" she gasped. "Of, I-I'm sorry, I thought it was a jerk-off call!"
He laughed. "Why? Did you get one before?"
"No, it's just that ... it's so late and I was asleep, I guess."
"That's why I called. I lost track of the time, I'm afraid, and didn't realize it was getting so late. Anyway, I'll be home in ten minutes or so. Is that all right? Am I forgiven?"
Gayle smiled. "Oh course, darling," she purred breathlessly. "See you in ten minutes, then."
She hung up quickly, afraid that if they talked any longer he'd suspect from the sound of her voice that something was wrong-that he'd interrupted her in mid-come!
Gayle was grinning like an idiot, she realized, as she staggered off the bed and caught sight of herself in the mirror-naked, sweaty, the vibrator still lodged between her agitated pussy lips-shocking! She laughed. She was in love with her husband and that made everything else seem unimportant. She pulled the vibrator out of her pussy, wiped it off, and put it away in its drawer. It was late, but now Jack would be home any moment. The shower was waiting for her ... she'd better put fresh sheets on the bed, to hide the fact that she'd been fucking herself to oblivion with a dildo on it.
She was going to be good for Jack tonight. She was going to satisfy him-completely-and then some. Tonight, when Jack walked in the door, it was going to be his night ... and hers.
Gayle hurried toward the bathroom. Doctor Weird would just have to wait for some other time to find out how his experiment came out.
CHAPTER FOUR
The morning had been frantically busy, and Erica was looking forward to her lunch appointment with Jack for more than just the obvious sexual reasons. Her nerves felt ragged, and everything connected with the show that could have possibly .gone wrong, had, was, or was threatening to in the very near future. Her telephone hadn't stopped ringing since nine o'clock, when she'd come in, and her office had been filled by what seemed like an endless procession of people who had to speak with her, or discuss something with her, or try to hassle her, or who had just dropped in to bullshit with her to either pass the time of day or try to get on the producer's good side-if Erica had one by then. She felt drained, physically as well as emotionally.
Her one reliable consolation at hectic moments like these was thinking about her position, her success ... she had made it, a woman in a man's business world.
It hadn't been easy, needless to say. There were a few corpses along the way to the top-men, and women, whom Erica had ruthlessly, cold-bloodedly exploited and then stabbed in the back once they could no longer be of use to her. Not many, compared to the casualities of some success stories she knew first-hand-but enough to disturb her at times. You just couldn't win, if you were female and talented and ambitious-a deadly combination. Most other people couldn't handle it.
If Erica had been a man, she would've been admired, envied perhaps, but respected. Because she was a woman, however, the qualities necessary for success made people think of her as a cold, arrogant, castrating bitch. She was feared more than loved ... but she could do without love at work, as long as she got the job done and as long as she got plenty of screwing in her private life. Jack was an exception. She didn't like to ball employees, as a rule. It added complications to what was by no means an easy daily routine.
She'd waited long enough for her big break to have deserved it when it came. Waiting was really the wrong term for it, of course, since she'd hardly been passive or patient. Erica had risen steadily in the broadcast corporation. She relished working for a major television network. Television was it, as far as she was concerned. Whether the programming was good or bad, it reached millions of people. The decisions she helped make affected the thinking and lifestyles of the entire nation. It was an awesome responsibility-and a giddy, dizzying, power and ego trip for those in command of the airwaves.
She would never forget the day a few months ago when she was given complete control over The Heart Has Secrets. She could remember that day down to the most insignificant detail-what she'd worn to work, what she'd eaten for lunch, every word she'd exchanged with her colleagues. She and her assistant had been discussing the long-term story projections for two of the soap operas that had dropped slightly but alarmingly in the latest ratings reports. Erica had cursed luridly under her breath when they were interrupted by a call from upstairs-Arnold Fredericks' secretary, asking-telling-Erica to come upstairs for an "urgent" conference.
At forty-five, Arnold was actually young to be one of the most powerful men in television. He and Erica hated each other's guts, because they had so much in common. Erica had been a few minutes getting free, and as she walked into Arnold's plush office she heard him searing his pretty young secretary's ears over her desk intercom:
"I don't want her in five minutes!" he barked. "I want that cunt in here right now!"
"I told Ms. Selwyn that, sir, but she said she was in a meeting," the girl whined, obviously long used to her boss' vulgar tirades. "I'll try again-oh!" she gasped, catching sight of Erica.
"That won't be necessary," Erica said, smiling, leaning over the desk to speak directly into the intercom. "Tell Mr. Fredericks that that cunt he wanted is here."
Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but when she walked into the inner sanctum Arnold wasn't at all flustered. Like Erica, he had a thick skin and the reflexes of a mongoose, and the thought that she might be insulted by his description of her never even entered his head. And Erica knew the bastard too well to be truly offended.
He was seated behind his desk, his shoulders hunched slightly forward, like a used-car salesman making his pitch-well-groomed, tanned (Florida vacations four times a year), his suit a tailor-made and modishly conservative English cut, his shoes also English imports ... he ought to be working for the fucking BBC, Erica thought contemptuously, just to get herself into the right aggressive, accept-no-crap mood for this surprise interview with her superior.
She smiled with disarming and patently insincere cordiality. "Hello there, Arnold ... having a busy day?"
"A lousy day, Selwyn," he retorted gruffly, his use of her surname an instinctive put-down. "A shitty day, in fact. Look at this-the new Nielsens are in and Heart has dropped again."
"I've seen the sheets."
"You saw the sheets," Arnold jeered. "Well, good for you! What I want to know is what the fuck are you going to do about it? That crummy show is losing the time period so bad it's affecting our entire afternoon schedule!"
"Yes, seven-tenths of a point to NBC," Erica couldn't help needling him. Her calm infuriated him, she knew. "I was working on it in that meeting you just pulled me out of."
"Oh, you were? Well, I should damn well hope so-it's what you get paid for-equally-you know."
Best argument ever invented in favor of mandatory castration after age thirty, Erica thought, smiling sweetly. No, make that mandatory euthanasia. Male menopause setting in already, Arnold dear? "It's only one show," she said aloud. "I've got seven others to keep going as well." Slowly, she crossed the room and sat down without being invited to, on the couch on the far side of the office-it was a stronger position than the official, uncomfortable guest chair stuck right next to the desk.
Arnold made a move of his own, taking a lot of time selecting a cigar, snipping its end off, and moistening the tip with saliva before actually starting to befoul the air with thick blue smoke. "The show's built pretty solid, Selwyn," he accused. "Why's it being fucked up now that you're in charge of it?"
They'd been through this a dozen times before, but she didn't bother to remind him of that. She'd given him her ideas and he'd always rejected them with scorn. Now, though, that the damned ratings were sagging, he was scared and willing to listen to her, although he'd never admit that she'd been right all along.
"You want to know why your highly-touted, saturation-advertised new soap opera isn't working?" she replied-it was a statement, not a question.
"That's what I asked you, lady."
"It's constructed all wrong, that's why. The characters are wrong, and there's practically nothing in the format that works."
"It's my format, you know ... I devised it."
"It still stinks."
"Selwyn, your problem is you think you know more about television than I do-"
"It's what you pay me for, as you so graciously reminded me a moment ago. To know my business."
"Well, I want to know what's wrong with my new show!"
"All right, I'll lay it out for you again. Ever since I took over daytime programming, you've insisted that I let that one precious show alone, because it's your baby-your big chance to show everybody what a great auteur you can be, Norman Lear the Second. You wanted the Nielsens to shoot up, but you wouldn't let me touch The Heart Has Secrets-dumbass title but I guess we're stuck with it after all those millions of advertising dollars down the drain!-except to stop the bleeding when it got cut too deep. That show's got terminal cancer, Arnold. It needs major surgery, and fast.
"First of all, it shouldn't be a live show-no other big soap opera is any more. It ought to be taped, so we'd have time to correct any major flaws before air time. As for the so-called plot itself, you've got two main themes wandering aimlessly through it with nothing in common, and each so tangled and confused that they'll never straighten themselves out.
"You've got a lead girl with a fake Italian accent, and no housewife out in Pittsburgh or Detroit gives a Goddam about immigrants because they're surrounded with them, and it either has to be done more convincingly or not at all for them to swallow it. You've made a hero out of a soldier and that can't work after Vietnam. You've got a politician in there who's supposed to be God's gift to democracy, a pillar of society, and after Watergate that's laughable. You have neither a strong maternal figure to attract the older women in the audience nor a heroine in serious trouble. Nothing matters in the fucking show-nothing is life or death, black or white, good or bad. That writer you hired has ground out a collection of second-rate Broadway-musical curtain lines and even most of them are intellectually over the heads of our audience. Shall I go on?" Erica was surprised she hadn't been cut off with a few choice expletives already. She was really letting him have it with both barrels now that she was warmed up.
But Arnold just sat back, puffing on his expensive and obnoxious cigar, peering at her through the smog he was creating in the room.
"And what do you intend to do about all that?" he asked sarcastically.
"That's the biggest problem of all. I can't do one damned thing if you're not willing to accept drastic changes." She paused, and then dropped the one bombshell she knew Arnold would never go for: "If I were you and it was the weakest show on my schedule, the most embarrassing flop in my network's recent history-I'd just yank Heart right off the air and throw it into the garbage can where it belongs."
Arnold hardly reacted-and that, Erica knew, was very uncharacteristic of him indeed-disturbing. Had she shot her mouth off too much? The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.
"No, I'm not going to do that...."
"I didn't think you would," Erica said coolly. "It wouldn't make a very good impression on the board of directors, having to admit that a show you created and fought for tooth and nail was the weakest link in the afternoon schedule."
"That's right, it wouldn't look so hot-but it could be done." An ugly sneer played around the corners of Arnold's mouth. "So-I've been thinking of giving you the show."
"You must be joking."
"You should be so lucky, bitch. No, you're stuck with The Heart Has Secrets from now on. I'm 'promoting' you ... executive producer, in complete control of writing, casting, the whole mess. The producer we've got is canned as of this minute. You take over on Monday morning. Chamberfield and I talked it all over yesterday and we both agreed that you're the only one around here who could dive in and pull our problem child out. Chamber-field was skeptical, but I assured him you were a solid member of the team and wouldn't dream of letting us down. Now, you wouldn't refuse the chance to bail your company out, would you, Erica, dear?"
Sarcastic motherfucker ... her mind was racing wildly as she tried to calculate the turn of events. If the president of the network was involved in the decision, there was little Erica could do to change matters now. Arnold was really incredible. She had to admit she'd underestimated him. He was giving her, ostensibly, just what she wanted-a chance to really prove herself, make that big, elusive jump to success within the organization. But if she blew it-if The Heart Has Secrets flopped despite her efforts to save it-her ass would be in the can, and Arnold would be off the hook. But if she succeeded-?
When she spoke, her voice was calm: "I suppose you told Chamberfield that this move was mandatory in order to save the show."
"Yeah, and it was the pure, unvarnished truth ... if Heart doesn't pick up by the end of the season we'll have to cancel it and cut our losses."
"Which would make you look like a fucking fool since you were the one who forced it on the air against everybody else's advice in the first place," Erica lashed out at him.
"And which will mean that you'll be one of the losses that gets cut, baby. Don't forget that. But you just might be able to pull it off ... you've got balls, that's one thing I've always had to say about you. It's a good show, Selwyn...."
"It's a piece of shit!"
She had finally touched a nerve. Arnold snapped forward in his chair and spat smoke at her. "All right, Selwyn, the slanging match is over, got that?! You start as producer on Monday morning and I want those ratings sky-high by the end of the season or you'll be just another unemployed cunt screaming about equal rights! Well, you've got equal rights from now on, baby-my ass is in a jam and now you're in it with me! You bail me out or we both go down. And you're right-I don't want the fucking show to flop, I can't afford it. So I'm giving you absolute control, carte blanche, hiring and firing, everything ... you do everything you have to, to fix it up, but you do it, you understand? You save my lousy show!"
"All right," Erica said, turning her back on him and heading for the door. "I'd better get busy, then." Inside, she was terrified, yet wildly exhilarated. She could do it! She knew she could pull it off! And, by God, she'd better! Everything was riding on it-her entire future in television, on this single throw of the dice!
"Oh, one other thing," Arnold grunted, annoyed that she hadn't put up more of a fight. "Starting Monday, your salary goes up five grand a year-if you last that long."
* * *
Around the studio, it was later referred to as the Monday Morning Massacre-when Erica had pink slips sent around to all the incompetents whom Arnold had hired to work on his pet project. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd warned him the show would need drastic surgery if it was to survive. It would have to be re-thought and re-structured virtually from the ground up, until nothing much of the original remained except the title. And even that Erica would've changed if she could have!
"God, I'll never get out of this alive!" Erica gritted to herself at the end of her third eighteen-hour working day in a row. Until she had filled the many new and unexpected vacancies with people she could depend on and trust, she was doing everything herself, half-killing herself in the process, hardly daring to take time out to eat or sleep.
Her first priority was somewhere, somehow, to find a decent writer for the show instead of the abominable scripts the actors were forced to struggle through every afternoon now.
"Will you ask Ms. Jackson to come up," Erica wearily instructed her own secretary-making mental note to replace her, if possible, with a sexy young male. A few minutes later the head writer of The Heart Has Secrets, was announced, and a once-stunning woman in her early forties strode into the office that Erica was going to move out of Monday morning for larger and more luxurious headquarters that came with her new territory.
"Hello, Catherine, please sit down...."
Catherine Jackson slid her tailored body onto the far side of the couch and crossed a pair of youthful, beautifully shaped legs. Her skirt hitched up to mid-thigh, and Erica wondered just how accidental that was. Catherine had been around, and it was rumored that she was a confirmed dyke who was always trying, if discreetly, to put the make on the girls in the typing pool. She had progressed from a production assistant to soap operas-which she made clear she considered beneath her dignity and capabilities as a writer.
She began a test of strength with Erica, who she didn't know very well. "You can save the polite openers ... I've heard."
"I see. And what do you think about it all?"
Catherine folded her arms and slumped back in her seat quite mannishly, eyeing the younger woman with a little too much severity. Catherine, Erica sensed, was the kind of tough broad who went to all the women's lib meetings and rallies-in the evenings, after exploiting her femininity as advantageously as possible during the working day. A "helpless" dyke-God, what a combination! Erica was really a little lightened of her, but didn't dare show it under the circumstances.
"What do I think? Well, frankly, I don't like it one bit. Arnold hired me especially for this job, as you no doubt are aware, and together we've shaped what I think is the most intelligent, subtle continuing story line on the air."
Oh Jesus, Erica thought, if she honestly believes that I've got a real psycho to deal with ... artistic self-delusion on a truly heroic scale! God help me!...." And I don't like all this talk floating around the building that people are going to be fired right and left ... actors ... production assistants...."
Writers, Erica added silently, still smiling politely but-she hoped-distantly and impersonally, to break it to Catherine gently and save her own neck from this formidable dyke with the unnervingly self-confident manner and loud, bossy voice.
"Does that mean you'd prefer not to work with me?" Erica asked hopefully.
"It means I'll have to get used to the idea, like everyone else on the team."
"I see...." Erica said again, stalling for time. Catherine was tough, all right, and honest-at least she wasn't trying to kiss her new boss' ass. Erica could relate to that. But the woman still had to go! Catherine had gotten hard and calloused and insulated from her years of sliding around from one studio to another. She was a good writer, intelligent-but cynical. That was partly what was wrong with the show. But ... maybe Erica ought to at least give her a chance. "Catherine, I want to talk to you at length about the show. I know what it's like now, of course, as a collaborative effort, but I'd like to see what you could do completely on your own, without any assistant script writers...."
"Uh ... not necessarily," Erica lied, wondering exactly how much of the script work Catherine had been doing herself and how much she was unloading onto her two overworked and underpaid helpers-who didn't even get screen credit! "I just have a feeling that, left alone, with more artistic freedom-" (What bullshit!) "-you might incline more toward my idea of what the show could be like than Arnold's original concept." Or unoriginal lack of one, she added to herself. "I'd be interested in finding out, kicking around a few fresh ideas. Are you free tonight?"
"What, for dinner?"
"No, after dinner at my apartment. I'm meeting some other people earlier, I'm afraid ... you see, this has come as just as much a shock to me as it did to everyone else, and I've got to get a lot done in a very little time." Erica knew that Catherine didn't believe her, that she believed Erica had somehow intrigued or screwed her way to becoming producer of the serial; but Erica couldn't take time to worry about other people's misconceptions of her motives now. Especially people she still fully intended to can, sooner or later.
Catherine breathed a heavy, theatrical sigh, as though to suggest that putting off whatever she'd had planned for the evening would be a hassle, but she'd make the sacrifice for the sake of the show and as a favor to Erica.
"I won't keep you long...." No, stop it, Erica; don't apologize to her, just tell her what you want her to do! "Any time after nine o'clock will be fine. I should be finished by then. I'm at One-Ten Marston Square, seventh floor."
"All right." Catherine drew herself up to her full height of martyrdom.
"And by the way, what are you working on at the moment?"
"The script for the third week of next month."
"Then you're ahead of schedule?" Or her two assistants were. "Good ... I'd like you to drop everything else for today and put on paper your own thoughts about everything you think is wrong with the show, and how you think each problem can be solved." Erica could see that Catherine was flabbergasted by her taking it for granted that she agreed that anything was wrong in the first place, and by Erica's telling her what to do. Good start. "In other words, if you were in full, sole charge, how you would develop the story line, the characters-everything. I want to know it all-"
"Jesus-"
"It's a chance to come up with something unique in daytime television," Erica lied brazenly, not believing it for a second but leaving Catherine no effective retort or way out of the sudden responsibility.
"I'm not sure I'd really change much, Erica-" Catherine said on her way to the door, sounding almost meek.
"Oh?" Erica made the single syllable eloquent indeed.
"I mean ... I'm not sure...."
"Well, put it on paper anyway and let me read it. I'd like to have it by three this afternoon."
"Three!"
"So we can discuss it when we meet tonight and not waste any more of your free time than necessary."
"You don't give a girl much time, Ms. Selwyn."
"I'm not talking to a girl, Catherine. I'm talking to a head writer."
Catherine twisted herself out of the doorway, the image of wounded innocence. Erica smiled. This might not be so difficult at all. She was beginning to relish it all-the game for high stakes, the battles of wills, the simple gratification of being in a position to order people around and refuse to let them manipulate her. She'd show Arnold, by God! She'd show them all!
She had to call the cast of the serial together and stall for time by admitting that yes, there would be changes in the cast: "We're going to be tinkering with the basic plot line and that will necessitate giving more weight to some roles and less to others ... perhaps creating new characters ... whatever happens, I want you all to know that it's not going to be because we don't want you any longer. It'll happen only if and when we've decided upon a different direction for the show." Yeah, she thought grimly, like out of the waste basket! "But don't start worrying yet, please. Let's all wait to see what happens...."
Catherine gave her notes to Erica's secretary-on time. Erica glanced over them, but reserved judgment for later. To her relief her dinner date with the show's director was productive: his ideas corresponded very well with her thinking, and a good initial rapport was established. Erica also decided that she wouldn't mind sleeping with him, if that ever came up and could prove useful to her. They spoke longer than she had planned, though, and by the time she got back to her apartment from the restaurant it was only ten minutes before Catherine Jackson was due to arrive. Erica was exhausted, but feeling increasingly in control of the nightmarish situation that had been thrust upon her.
"Don't start in on me tonight, you dyke," she said aloud to the walls of her living room as she made herself a very strong double scotch. "I'm too tired and nervous about next week to take any shit from you!"
The doorbell rang, jarring her out of her gloomy thoughts.
Catherine had a portfolio under her arm, stuffed full of story projections and scripts in progress. "You look tired, dear," she said-her sympathy fairly convincing.
Erica couldn't deny it. "Yes ... what will you have to drink?"
"What you have there looks good. I'll try the same." Catherine plunked herself down on the big beige sofa and stretched her arms out along its back, making her large but slightly matronly breasts jut out prominently. "So this is how a lovely young executive lives ... very impressive ... you've got good taste. I've lived in New York over twenty years and damned if I could find a place like this ... I'm always just missing out, it seems."
"It's a problem, I know." Erica smiled politely.
"Catherine, you'll excuse me, I'm sure, if I seem anxious to get right down to business. Did you have a chance to read my notes on the story projections?"
"You wrote almost as much as I did," the older woman said, laughing softly; and it was only then that her taut face, usually so carefully composed, gave away her age. "So-what do you think?"
"No, what do you think?"
"Most of it is a lot of crap, dear." Catherine smiled sweetly and sipped her drink, peering at Erica over the rim of her glass. "It looks like you just want to turn The Heart Has Secrets into a carbon copy of every other soap."
"Every other successful soap-please bear that in mind. But no, on the contrary ... however, we're dealing with a specific audience. We still have definite guidelines to stay within, if we want them to tune in every day...."
"Erica, you do look tired. When was the last night you got a good night's sleep?" Catherine sounded all motherly concern.
"Let's stick to the problem, okay?"
Catherine got up and came around behind Erica's chair. She set her drink down on an end table. "Come on, I'm going to give you a nice backrub and then you're going right to bed, young lady! We can talk about all this in your office first thing tomorrow morning."
"Catherine, I've got a staff meeting at the ungodly hour of eight A.M. and a meeting with the set designer and costumers at ten. And I don't care for a backrub, thanks anyway; do sit down-"
But her guest had kicked off her shoes and was removing her suit jacket. Catherine threw it over the back of an empty chair. "I never met a working woman yet who couldn't use a good hard massage at the end of the day," she lectured bossily, beginning to work her hands on Erica's stiff shoulders and the back of her neck. "Loosen up, for God's sake!"
"Catherine, there are serious problems with the show...."
"Screw the show! It can wait half an hour, can't it? And what good are you to yourself if you're so tense and exhausted you can't even hold your drink in your hand?" She snatched the glass Erica had been listlessly toying with out of her hand and put it aside, then pulled Erica slowly to her feet. "Come on, don't be such a prude, my dear. Shoes off, loosen all that tight fashionable clothing that's constricting you so! Lie down on the couch."
"Catherine, this is really too much-!"
Catherine fumbled with the buttons of Erica's blouse. "You young girls are so smug ... you think we old dykes want to fuck you all the time. This is going to be perfectly legitimate, dear, and you'll thank me in the morning when you've finally had a delicious, restorative night's sleep." She peeled the blouse off and took a quick, lustful survey of the embarrassed Erica's voluptuous upper body, the lush breasts trapped in the cups of a filmy white brassiere. She all but pushed Erica face-down on the sofa cushions, then, before the new producer of the soap opera could protest, she hiked up her own skirt and straddled Erica's back. "Do you have any talcum powder or baby oil in the bathroom...?"
"Let's not make this a big production, please," Erica said feebly. "I think I would be better if we got a few things straight-"
Catherine's skilled hands kneaded the muscles in Erica's back, working upon the smooth pale skin with a surprising-and, so far, quite asexual-expertise. "Jesus, you're as tense as a rock! No wonder you're such a grouch...."
Erica didn't try to move, but took a deep breath and luxuriated in the way the rigidity was being caressed right out of her shoulders and spine. "I don't want to fall asleep on you, but I can feel myself drifting off. Talk to me about Heart, Catherine, before it's too late."
"That fucking show. Okay, take this bra off first. And you've got something hard on underneath your skirt; it's digging the hell out of my knees...." Catherine unhooked Erica's brassiere in back, then reached down eagerly and slid down the zipper of her skirt.
"Catherine!" There was a firm warning tone in Erica's voice, but the woman astride her, trying to strip her naked, paid no attention to it.
"I don't know why you're so uptight about that lousy show," she panted. "We've got plenty of time to patch it up. I know it's just a piece of shit. But you know something, Erica? That's all they want out there in America. Shit." Catherine was lifting her skirt and wriggling, trying to slip out of her own panties without letting Erica notice. She succeeded, then tugged her skirt up high again and sat on Erica's lusciously rounded hips and behind. Her fingers pressed hard into the flesh of Erica's thighs, groping up under her skirt. "You want to know what Heart is, honey? It's a farce ... nobody takes it seriously except that pompous asshole Arnold Fredericks. You think I ever took it seriously? All that melodramatic crap? Come on! I was never fooled for one minute and neither are you! I do it for the money, just like you. So let's not get overly preachy about the quality of the shit we're trying to sell our sponsors." Catherine pressed her thumbs into the soft bulges of muscle on either side of Erica's coccyx. Then, in one deft motion, she slipped her hands under the elastic waistband of Erica's brief panties and rubbed her bare buttocks. "Catherine-!"
"Oh, screw you, Erica; you're no fun at all! Lie still and enjoy it." Catherine leaned over and switched off the lamp on the end table, leaving only another small light glowing at the far end of the room. She pushed her hands down over Erica's tensed ass cheeks, stretching herself sensuously on top of the blonde woman's half-naked body. Then she slid herself back up again so that one knee and thigh was w-edged firmly between Erica's parted legs, pushing against her cunt. Catherine sat down on her rump, writhing from side to side, evidently turned on now and throwing caution to the winds.
"My God-!" With an effort, Erica twisted herself over onto her back and stared up at Catherine in the darkness. She could feel the lesbian's wetness on the muscles of her thigh, seeping through her own nylon stocking. Catherine smiled down at her.
"You're sure you don't have any baby oil? I know a few tricks to do with it that would drive you wild."
"Catherine, you're not going to like yourself tomorrow if this goes any farther."
"Oh, you let me worry about that, dear. What do you think I am-some complex-ridden relic of the fifties who'll commit suicide out of remorse the morning after? I've wanted your sweet pussy ever since you came to work for us. You don't have to do a thing; I'll do it all ... so your precious heterosexual conscience can remain clear. So-why not relax and enjoy?"
Erica found herself speculating whether Catherine used the same methods of persuasion with her two female assistants at their biweekly story conferences. No wonder the stupid show never got anywhere; its creators were too busy rubbing pussies and giving head to each other! Catherine bent forward and let her hair fall gently over Erica's gently swelling left breast. She pushed the unfastened brassiere aside and took the nipple into her mouth, sucking hard.
"Catherine, you're in the wrong profession," Erica panted, feeling a weird sense of detachment as the other woman made love to her there on the sofa.
"Mmmmm ... love to suck!" Catherine groaned happily, licking Erica's rigidly extended, pulsating nipple. As her lips caressed the stiffened tip of Erica's breast, her fingers slipped down between their bodies and began to probe Erica's cuntal crack and her own. Erica began rotating her hips, trying to fuck herself on Catherine's hand, which somewhat surprised the older woman-Erica was no novice at this, after all! Really getting into it now, Catherine slowly, provocatively inserted another finger inside the clinging wet canal of Erica's heated pussy, searching for her clit and teasing it expertly, quickly increasing the force of the masturbation until she and a helplessly moaning, squirming Erica were working together toward their common goal, and very soon reached the verge of climax together, their cunts convulsing in violent, lustful spasms.
"Oh! Oh Catherine, you bitch! Oh!" Erica snarled, her body shivering from head to foot as the dyke's busy fingers manipulated her clit and cunt slot so effectively. "You're doing it to me, oh stop! Please stop! I'm almost there! I'm about ready to come, I can feel it, building and building deep in my pussy, oh so hot, if you don't stop now I'm going to fucking come!"
Thrilled as she was by the prospect of making Erica climax with her hand, and watching that, Catherine impulsively decided that it would be an even hotter sex trip to go down on her so that she could taste the blonde's orgasm on her tongue as she explored her creaming vagina with it. She pulled her dripping fingers out of the moist warmth of the younger woman's ready-to-come quim, and, slithering down on the sofa quickly, replaced them with her own parted lips and tongue. She kissed Erica's cunt lips and the tiny blade of her swollen, throbbing clit. Then Catherine blew softly and gently into Erica's open vaginal mouth, and began to tongue her clitoris with rapid, agonizingly pleasurable strokes that soon had Erica groaning and gasping with excitement.
Catherine stretched one arm up Erica's writhing torso to fondle her bared breasts, then grasped Erica's limp hand and guided it between her own legs. Erica tried to pull away at first ... but then, deciding the hell with it, she gave in and began to frig Catherine's cunt with considerable skill, if not quite the same lewd enthusiasm Catherine's fingers had shown while masturbating her before. Catherine didn't seem to mind. She was concentrating all of her energy, attention, and sexual talent on bringing Erica off. She took Erica's hard-pointed nipples between her thumbs and forefingers while her tongue stabbed rapidly in and out of her spasming pussy, darting up every now and then to caress the nub of her hot clit and make it leap and twitch in eager response.
When she felt that Erica was about to come, Catherine released the clit that had swelled up between her sucking lips, and smiled up at the blonde-teasing her. "Shall I go on or have you had enough?" she laughed.
"Get down there!" Erica cried, furious, plunging her wet fingers in and out of Catherine's cunt, diddling her desperately now. "Don't stop now, give me head! Make me come! In your mouth! With your tongue! Lick! Suck! Lick my hot pussy and make me come!"
"Like this?" Catherine suggested provokingly. She climbed on top of Erica and squeezed her own leg in between Erica's trembling, parted thighs; her full breasts rubbed over Erica's, their erect nipples pressing hotly against each other. Catherine drew back Erica's disheveled head and kissed her shoulders and neck, nibbling at her earlobes, as the sexed-up blonde woman squirmed impatiently under her. Catherine thrust her hand under Erica's shoulder and groped for her bottom so that the blonde's silky pubic hairs would rub erotically against her own dark, matted bush. Both women were now wild with passion, Erica thrashing and gasping as Catherine used her hot mouth and expertly licking tongue on as much of her body as they could reach, working her oral way slowly down Erica's front until her lips were once again hovering tantalizingly just above the moist, seeping excitement of Erica's wildly aroused cunt.
"Don't tease me any more-suck my cunt, eat me, eat me out, make me come like crazy-I really need it, I've just got to come, I'm so hot I can't stand it any more...." Erica moaned.
"Not yet!" Catherine insisted sadistically. She kissed her way back up to Erica's big, ripe boobs. Erica groaned in disappointment as Catherine rocked against her, up and down, higher and higher, thigh rubbing between her distended cunt lips, against her clit, until Erica's whole body felt warm and slippery with sweat. The two horny women ground their pussies together in gritty, fucking friction, their clits coming into furious contact ... they pumped themselves together in a frenzied mockery of the coupling of a man and a woman, moaning and whimpering and grunting-indeed, all but howling with lust!
Finally Catherine was too hot herself to fuck around any longer. She relented-broke the frustrating contact of their loins-and went down on Erica again-with a ravenous hunger for the younger woman's succulent, self-lubricating cunt.
As she plunged her tongue deep between those sticky-wet pussy lips and began to eat Erica out for real this time, the blonde generously stimulated Catherine's cunt again with her fingertips, rather excited, she had to admit to herself, by how hot and wet and responsive the inner lips and lining of the lesbian's vulva felt, as she tensed her body involuntarily and felt Catherine's stiffened tongue ram into her pussy deeper and deeper....
"Oh, fucking Christ, Catherine! I'm coming! I'm coming, Catherine, God damn you, you horny dyke! I'm going to just come and come-oh, I am-ahhhhh shit yes am I ever coming!!!"
As her body finally exploded with pleasure against the other woman's sucking mouth and fucking tongue, Catherine wondered why she'd waited so long to renew her acquaintance with lesbian sexual activity. She hadn't done all that much with other women-but enough, she guessed, judging by how easily she had responded to Catherine tonight. A girl friend who used to sleep over at Erica's house had taught her how to masturbate when they were both fourteen-they would lock the bedroom door and finger-fuck each other until they both came. They tried lying on top of each other and rubbing, but were never able to reach orgasm that way. Once she had learned how, Erica masturbated often, usually in bed, and usually lying on her stomach, which seemed to make her orgasms more intense when she pressed her pussy against the mattress ... but that was all long past. Once she'd finally decided to go "all the way" with a boy in high school, she was so busy fucking men she never felt tempted to experiment with another girl again. Well, there'd been Jill, her roommate in college, of course ... and one or two others since ... just for the sake of a little sexual variety.
But all the girls she'd had sex with, she'd been attracted to ... Erica wasn't attracted to Catherine, and that made it a lot easier to can her after all, the very next day.
The dyke had been right about one thing, though: Erica did sleep like a baby after the massage and come, and arrived at the office bright and refreshed, feeling ready to take on the world. Catherine had slipped out of her apartment sometime during the night. Erica tried not to think of how the woman would react when she checked her mail box that morning.
Erica was in the middle of her discussion with the set designer-a gay guy, by coincidence-when it happened. "You can begin on a new living room, kitchen, dining alcove, and a really plush doctor's office-the desk room, not the examination room-that we can use for a lawyer, too, with a few quick changes. I want elegance, Dirk. No more schlock. Butch gay, not tacky gay, darling. You can't change everything overnight, of course, but get started. We'll be making a sweeping, total change."
"But it'll cost a fortune, Erica. And we'll never get them constructed in time to get them on the air when you want them."
"You let me worry about that. Just get 'em built-and built fast. Something the average housewife only sees in magazine pictures and movies. Real class ... to contrast with the dreariness of her own life-"
It was then that they both heard Catherine's booming voice outside: "I don't give a royal fuck what she's in, the cunt-I'm going in that room now!"
Erica smiled at the terrified Dirk across her desk. "Uh, would you mind taking a quick break? Run down to your office and bring me the designs you did for that TV-movie last season ... I've heard they were quite good...."
The door burst open and Catherine flew into the office. She paused at the entrance and glared murderously at Erica, blood surging through the veins at her neck and temples. She was waving her pink slip around, holding it at arm's length as though it were dripping fresh blood. "You bitch!"
Dirk ran for his life, ducking past Catherine and out the door.
"You knew all along they'd canned me, you cunt!" Catherine barked in her dyke-est truck-driver baritone.
"That's not completely true ... First, I fired you, not they. And I hadn't finalized my decision until last night."
"What's the matter? Wasn't I good enough in bed to satisfy Miss Liberated Bitch Selwyn?"
"You were okay as far as it went, but with the kind of attitude you've got I can't afford to keep you on my team." Erica looked at her appraisingly, coldly. "I told you, you'd hate yourself in the morning-"
"You devious, vicious cunt. I could take you to the Writers' Guild."
"You could, although I doubt they'd be terribly sympathetic. I gather it's not the first time you've cuntlapped your way out of a jam, or tried to, and I could probably prove that easily enough ... besides, I'm not firing you cold. Your contract will be bought up. Everything will be open and above-board. You're a good writer, Catherine-"
"Oh, shove it!"
"-But not for Heart. You're too pseudo-sophisticated for our target audience, you don't like them, and you ought to like the people you write for."
"You let me make an ass of myself last night!"
"I didn't force you to do anything-it was sort of the other way around, remember?"
"Bitch. I wouldn't work for you now if you tripled my salary and got down on your knees begging me. You have absolutely no human values, no decency, of any kind. Good luck, you cunt. I hope Heart turns out to be the most maudlin, conventional, corny piece of crap on TV and that you become the laughingstock of this industry." She was already out the door; Erica smiled as it slammed shut behind her. One down ... God alone knew how many more to go. But now she knew she'd be able to handle it.
CHAPTER FIVE
In a way, Erica was grateful to Catherine ... if it hadn't been for her, Erica might not have thought of Gayle as a possible replacement as head writer for the show. Gayle's older sister, Jill, had been the college roommate Erica had made love to a few times. And, even though Jill was now living on the West Coast, she and Erica had remained best friends and kept in touch. Erica had never met Gayle but remembered that she was a writer-a struggling writer, from the way Jill talked about her and her struggling-actor husband, Jack, on the phone or in her letters. With Catherine gone for good, Erica needed scripts for the show badly. It didn't matter if they were good scripts, as long as they would fill up the gap until she could find a permanent writer to her taste. So, not expecting a rruracle, she set up an appointment with Gayle, making it clear that she was in a bind and would Gayle do her big sister's old friend a favor? She was honest with Gayle, admitting that she couldn't promise more than a few weeks' employment, but holding out the possibility that Gayle might be kept on an as assistant writer, if her work turned out to be suitable.
Erica liked Gayle immediately, as she had expected she would, although her pressed schedule didn't allow her to do much more than talk business with Jill's kid sister at their first meeting. Erica took care to give them more time together the second time, taking Gayle out to lunch. She wanted Gayle to work on the show-badly. Erica was as desperate to land a writer as Gayle was to land a good, steady job, and it was incredible that Erica should find an ideal writer on her very first try.
Gayle had a strong background in confessions-type writing and stories for pulp magazines. She'd recently graduated to staff writer on two magazines that had gone broke, one right after the other. The first was a feminist publication, the second a ghastly thing called Gash that described itself in advertising as "The New Low in Smut!" That Gayle had been able to switch from one to the other without turning a hair was in itself sufficient proof of her versatility. There was a gutsy honesty about her style that was appealing to Erica after Catherine's snobbish froth. Gayle had never been a head writer on a soap opera before, but she had subwritten a lot recently to bring in extra money while her husband haunted the casting agencies and calls in search of theater work or a television role.
"Did you like it?" was the first thing a breathless Gayle demanded after she had sat down at their table, pointing to the big portfolio Erica had brought with her and deposited on an empty chair. "Or is this lunch just your way of telling me gently I haven't got a chance?"
"I more than liked it," Erica admitted. "No bullshit-you've got a job if you want it."
"I-uh-oh God!" Gayle blurted happily. "Really? It's rough, I know, and you might hit some snags when we go to script-"
"Rough? Stop being overly modest, Gayle. You've done the whole damn thing, solved my biggest problem, in these five days. It's great, Gayle. It's perfect. That's the best continuing story line I've heard in years. And that whole cataract business with Jessica is superb ... once we start moving toward that eye operation with her, the ratings will skyrocket, and the way she doesn't want to tell her boyfriend, because she doesn't want him to confuse pity with love, and she needs her job even if it means going blind to pay off the blackmailer ... it's trash, it's absolute garbage, it's pure unadulterated soap opera sentimentality and suspense. I love it!"
" "There's only one idea we discussed before that I haven't been able to make work yet," Gayle apologized. "The slut's affair with Richard."
"Oh, that'll work, too. Just give yourself some more time on it."
"It does mean pushing out what's-her-name, the actress who plays Margaret," Gayle pointed out, "and concentrating on Jessica. I took you at your word, I didn't worry about who would or wouldn't get fired."
"That's exactly what I wanted. To me the actress who plays Jessica is the only sympathetic female on the show."
"She does look vulnerable...." They broke off their talk to order lunch.
"So, what about this slut?" Erica asked briskly, as soon as the waiter was gone. "How do you picture her? What type?".
"Oh, a young Rita Hayworth, young Liz Taylor ... pure sex ... the woman other women love to hate ... rich, beautiful, sensual, without a moral bone in her body."
"She'll be hard to cast-there aren't many of that type around today."
"Well, that part's your problem, Ms. Selwyn. Thank God!"
"Erica, for Christ's sake ... you've done a beautiful job, Gayle."
"Well, I've had two or three weeks to put it all together...."
"Two weeks? What do you mean? I only gave it to you five days ago."
"Yeah, but I've been working on it twenty-four hours a day. This is going to be my first decent meal in days. Don't be shocked if I absolutely inhale it. I hope it's going on your expense account."
"Well, think of it as a celebration. You've earned it. Welcome to the show."
"Uh-Erica-there is one other thing-?"
"Yes?"
"My husband ... Jack...."
"You want me to give him a part on the show?" Erica guessed at once. She wasn't particularly perturbed; if this was the price she had to pay for signing up Gayle, it would be cheap. Unless he was a zombie in front of a camera, he could replace one of the deadbeats she'd just given notice to.
Gayle was blushing. "Oh, God ... nothing like that. I mean, it's not in exchange for giving me the job or anything. I wouldn't want you to think I operate that way. But-since you're replacing actors, you said-I thought Jack could at least audition, and if there's any opening for him at all you might put a word in, that's all. He just can't find any work this year and it's making him so depressed. You know how men are. He's as excited about this chance you're giving me as I am, but I can tell he's upset at the thought of having me working steadily, supporting him."
"Write a part for him and I'll give it to him." Gayle's eyes widened. "You'd do something like that?"
"To get you working for me, yes. I told you, if we don't save the show it'll probably be cancelled in a few months. If your husband's any good at all-if he can remember lines and blocking-we'll find something for him to do. And, if you're worried about it, he'll never have to know-audition, wait, warning that we can't promise him anything, the whole routine. Only he'll have the job, for sure. We'll just let him think he got it all by himself. Don't think twice about it, Gayle. Lots of husband-and-wife teams work on the soap, writing or directing or acting. It's good for team morale, which we're going to need a lot of."
"Well ... I guess you've got yourself a writer, and an actor, then."
"Great. Now I'd like to go over some mechanics with you. I don't know how you've worked before, but I want to tell you how I handle things. Divide the story into thirteen separate segments, one for each week of the time period. Don't forget to put a major cliff-hanger in on Fridays to make sure there's always a serious dramatic question hanging in the air to tease the audience and make them" tune in again on Monday. Then divide each segment into five parts, one for each day. Every Monday you start to solve whatever questions you left the audience up in the air with over the weekend. Then each day after that you add new information and complications to build up to the coming Friday's cliff-hanger."
Gayle was taking notes furiously, right there at the restaurant table.
"Next," Erica went on, "divide each day's action into a teaser and four separate acts, each act running about ten minutes. And try to make each act one continuous scene. Sometimes you won't be able to, of course, but I'd like you to keep that in mind as the ideal. We're contractually obligated to put each performer on the air a certain number of times a week. Before you start writing for each day, look at the cast breakdown I'll supply you with in advance. That's important to keep everybody happy."
Erica dug out a list of sets already in use. "We'll be adding more later, but try not to use more than four on any given day at first-one for each scene. Of course, any time we want to we can resort to the trusty old two-wall angle set of just about anything rather than a complete set ... but I'm not saying be stingy. I want the show to have class. Just don't be needlessly extravagant."
"Hold it," Gayle said. "I'm doing shorthand, but you talk pretty fast."
"Sorry," Erica laughed...." Okay."
The waiter was bringing their food. "That's pretty much it," Erica said as they were served. "Just common-sense things, mostly-like, keep special effects and exteriors to a minimum. They always cost more money, so make sure they're worth it." She smiled at Gayle, who was attacking her salad hungrily. "Don't worry, it's not as complicated as it seems once you get the hang of it. Now ... tell me about Jack."
* * *
Now, a scant two months later, it was Erica who could have told Gayle a thing or two about her very sexy husband. That had really been an inspiration on her part (Erica mentally congratulated herself), letting Jack think he had screwed his way into the role on The Heart Has Secrets ... that way, he'd never suspect that Erica had made sure he got it because she really needed and wanted Gayle ... and Gayle was more grateful to Erica than ever when the producer kept telling her to beef up Jack's part.
Not that Jack didn't deserve it. The show was turning into a success, climbing slowly but steadily upward in the ratings already, now that Erica had put her mark on it and Gayle was doing virtually all the writing. Jack had become genuinely popular with the audience, and the crappy soap-opera fan magazines were constantly running interviews with and articles on him ... Erica welcomed the publicity, although why anyone would be interested in reading such drivel was beyond her. She only hoped it all wouldn't turn Jack's head. Somewhat to her surprise, he had turned out to be a talented and unaffected actor, capable of effacing himself in order to fit into the whole of the show. Not that it wasn't difficult for such a devilishly handsome young stud to melt into the crowd entirely. He stood out. Thousands of viewers out there were lusting after him every afternoon. And Erica was fucking him every chance she got, only slightly bothered by the fact that, in doing so, they were both being disloyal to unsuspecting Gayle.
Her thoughts about Jack as an actor, just another asset in the strong show she was trying to build, had gradually evolved into thoughts of Jack as a man. And as a lover. A delicious chill ran up Erica's spine, and she felt the flesh on her arms going goosebumpy. Jack was just what she needed, with all the pressures and responsibilities of her new position, which left her little free time for a love relationship....
No, that was being unfair to Jack. He was more than just a stud on the payroll. Erica had had many other lovers, but few of them had been as satisfying as Jack. There was now more to their relationship than a mere sexual attraction, a raw lust for each other. Jack liked her-of that, Erica was now sure. For a woman in her position it was refreshing and ego boosting to be liked as well as just desired. Most of the men she came into contact with were horribly intimidated by her authority, or openly hated her guts, like Arnold Fredericks whom she'd proved wrong and triumphed over. Her employees were scared shitless of her because she could castrate them with one withering, warning look when their work wasn't up to snuff, or cut them to ribbons with a few well-chosen words about how disappointed they'd made her. They showed their fear by being either servile and meek, or went to the opposite extreme and flirted with Erica and tried to seduce her because they felt obligated to try.
Jack was different. To him, she was just a woman-yes, a cunt! Erica reveled in the crude word and mental image ... nothing more or less than cunt, a good piece of ass ... Jack saw her as a real person, a human being with lusts and frustrations and desires that had nothing to do with the show. When he made love to her, it was no longer to make sure she'd keep him on, or to consolidate Gayle's position. Jack and Gayle had both proven their worth to the show and were self-confident now. Jack made love to Erica because he found her highly desirable. Together, they played no roles other than those of two very horny, amoral people. She was as hot for him as he was for her.
Knowing that gave Erica a sense of security in her private life that she had rarely enjoyed with other men. When Jack was around, she felt like a woman ... a fulfilled woman.
A knock on her office door interrupted her memories and thoughts, and Gayle walked in. Erica began to think of Jack again, all right, but strictly as an actor and Gayle's husband. She was always afraid she'd give herself away, somehow, in front of Gayle, who was so perceptive.
"A couple of things, Erica," Gayle said briskly. She was wearing her glasses, which she didn't do very often, and they made her look like a very sexy schoolteacher. "First, it's the script for next week, incorporating your suggestions, for you to okay. Darlene is supposed to make her grand entrance Friday, and they tell me downstairs that you still haven't cast the part. I'm afraid you're going to have to make up your mind fast. You've looked at photos of hundreds of girls-"
"But none of them have that special something, that incredible sexiness, that we want in our 'slut' to contrast with the way we've developed Jessica," Erica sighed. "Well, unless I discover somebody in a drugstore this week, I'll just have to settle on one of these three we've narrowed it down to. Shit-I was hoping to find somebody really special, a new face-like Jack, frankly. Oh well. I'll read the script right away. I'm sure I'll okay it. Your fucking story line is getting so exciting I even find myself looking forward to seeing the tape everyday."
Gayle nodded. "Oh, yeah. Jack's right outside. He said you had a lunch date with him for one o'clock, and it's almost one fifteen."
"Oh yes, just to pay him back for taking me out so many times when you were hung up," Erica said casually. "And to treat myself to some intelligent conversation with a good-looking guy after all the meetings I've been through already today. Sure you can't join us?"
"No, I'm loaded with work."
"Too bad," Erica lied. She would have shit in her panties had Gayle actually accepted, ruining everything! "Well, some day soon ... send Jack right in, will you, dear? I'll be ready to go in just five minutes. Tell Harold to hold the rest of my calls." Erica had gotten her male secretary, as she'd hoped. Got him in more ways than one, when Jack wasn't around to service her.
Gayle nodded, then turned to leave. Erica watched her go. Gayle was a strikingly attractive young woman, she realized with just a touch of envy. Her soft brown hair fluttered gently as she walked, her body moving with a fluid grace that was truly elegant, not just sensuous. Her ass was firm as it shifted subtly from left to right, rising and falling along with her strides. She closed the office door behind her as she left. I must be special to Jack, Erica decided, unwilling to acknowledge that she was jealous of Gayle for being married to him. He could have Gayle any time he wanted to, and, in Erica's opinion, Gayle was a dynamite piece of ass. Yet Jack was willing to risk losing all that elegant beauty, all that underlying raw sexuality, willing to lose his wife, just to have an affair with Erica ... that meant he must find Erica at least as desirable as Gayle ... most men would have given their left nut to get Gayle in bed, because of her looks, her personality, her very special sensual presence. But Jack seemed to want more than even she could give him. He wanted Erica!
Still, if I had a choice, I'd rather have her body than mine, Erica thought, touching her own breasts with near-revulsion. I'm built like a cow! There's no shape to my tits, they're like udders, big and heavy, sagging under their own weight ... God, what wouldn't I give to have boobs like Gayle's, so firm and shapely! And her small waist and slinky hips. There's nothing really feminine about all this flesh of mine. I have to wear bras and girdles to hold it all in, and even then I'm limited in what I can wear. I could never get away without wearing a bra, but that Gayle could. She's as firm without one as I am with one! Some women have all the luck!
Well, maybe not all the luck ... Jack had walked into her office, smiling like a little boy in on a dirty secret. He was arrogantly handsome, and very masculine-looking. Erica's cunt throbbed internally and began to get wet externally at the very sight of him.
"All ready for lunch?" he smirked sensuously.
Erica blew him a kiss, struggling to remain casual. If she gave away too much of what she felt for him, he might start taking her for granted. "I'll be with you in a minute, Jack. I just have to put these in order," she lied, pretending to re-arrange a pile of letters on her desk blotter.
He walked closer. "You look really good today, Erica. I like you in green. It matches your eyes. In fact, it makes them look even greener."
She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl at the flattery. "Thank you. Are you ready for lunch, too?" she asked, running her tongue across her lips.
"I'm famished. I can hardly wait to sink my teeth into a thick, juicy-cunt."
"Oh? Just a cunt, darling? Any cunt?"
"Erica, yours is definitely not just any cunt. Your cunt is special. 'Superpussy,' as I like to think of it."
Her thighs spread slightly, hidden from him by her desk top; she could feel the crotchpiece of her panties getting wet, and she cursed Jack in her mind, although she couldn't stop herself from smiling. God damn him! He was so fucking sexy! Such a stud! He turned her on so! Christ, she wanted to go to bed with him! Images flashed through her brain of their previous lovemakings, and her body responded, recalling the many pleasures his had given it. Just imagining his wet tongue tickling between her thighs made her shudder. He really knew how to make a woman come. He could make Erica go off like nobody else ever had ... a string of orgasms like firecrackers, leaving her pussy filled with molten lava. She almost feared the hold he had over her.
But not enough to want to break off their affair. "Let's go," she said.
It was getting too risky to screw in her office. They took a taxi uptown, to a clean, respectable, but no-questions-asked hotel where nobody was surprised when guests only used the room for an hour or two. Fifteen minutes after they had left the office, Jack and Erica were naked in bed together.
Jack's firm, muscular body was like fire against hers, and Erica ran her hands greedily over his nakedness, drawing an intense pleasure just from the sweaty smoothness of his flesh. She wrapped her fingers around the swollen thickness of his prick, stroking it up and down as she explored the wet interior of his mouth with the tip of her tongue. He sucked on her lips and chewed them between his teeth, as though he were trying to devour her.
"Jesus, Erica," he grunted, his eyes screwed tightly shut so that he could concentrate on his sensual pleasure. "Your body drives me crazy. I've never felt this horny with anyone. You're like an animal when we fuck. A wild sexual animal in heat!"
His hands were on her massive breasts, and he was squeezing them in and out, pinching them, flattening them down with his palms. Her nipples were like two rigid lumps of coal jutting outward through his spread fingertips. Each time Jack rubbed them, fire spread across both breasts, burning down into Erica's womb, making her cunt smolder with lust.
"Suck them, baby!" she moaned, pulling Jack by his hair and yanking his soft wet mouth down toward the swollen nipples. She cried out as his lips closed over one nipple. His teeth bit lightly into the cone of hard flesh and ground gently from side to side, hurting her just enough for it to be a powerful turn-on. Then his tongue stabbed out at the nipple, dabbing it with saliva and licking it furiously to get it wet all over. Erica's body shuddered convulsively. "Oh, yes! Yes! Suck them, baby. Suck them ... suck on my titties!"
She put her hand down and grasped his cock again. It was long and thick, red-tipped, potent, lined with bluish throbbing veins. A sticky clear discharge oozed from the slit, and Erica took her fingernail and spread the wetness out over the head of the cock. She began to pump on the shaft slowly, firmly, from its base up to the spongy head, squeezing hard, making Jack's balls bounce from the pounding impact. Her hand shot up and down, up and down, around his penis, like a sexual piston sliding around the thickness of his cock.
While he was busy licking and sucking her breasts, opening his mouth as wide as he could to stuff it full of nipple and boob, Jack moved one of his hands down to the heat of her cunt, curling his fingers around the mound, fingering the button of her clit. He rubbed the bud back and forth, imitating the circular sweeps of his tongue over each stiff nipple in turn. Wetness spilled from between the lips of Erica's pussy as though her bladder had suddenly ruptured, and an orgasm writhed deep inside her womb as though imprisoned there and impatiently urging on the moment when it could let loose in an explosion of lewd gratification and release.
"Finger me!" she moaned, squeezing the shaft of Jack's cock until her fingernails sank into the turgid flesh. Sweat collected under her arms, running down her breasts like a warm, trickling waterfall. "Finger me, Jack! Finger me! Put your finger all the way up my cunt ... finger-fuck my hot pussy!"
She could feel two of Jack's fingers moving down from her burning clitoris, sliding wetly through the moist passageway between her oozing lower lips. Her vagina was wide open, like a gasping, sucking mouth, and Jack teased it for a long moment, rubbing just a fingertip all around its elastic rim. Erica hunched her cunt up brazenly to press it against his hand, aiming her pussy opening at the hardness of his taunting fingers ... his middle finger went into her, all the way into her cunt, until his fist was balled against the lips, and his wrist was locked between her scissoring thighs.
"Oh Jesus-yesssss!" Erica hissed, her body stiffening in a sudden stab of near-painful pleasure at the penetration. His finger was in the wet glove of her cunt, stirring around, wriggling, testing the thickness of her juices, massaging itself against the agonizingly tender walls of quivering flesh ... "Oh God, yes! Yes! Deeper ... harder! Oh, harder! More fingers ... more! Fuck me with your fingers, with your whole hand!"
The index finger joined the other inside of her, stretching open the delicate passageway. Then a third finger, and a fourth, forming a wet, slippery, irregular conical shape, rammed violently in and out of her cuntal aperture. Erica could feel her vaginal lips flapping obscenely wide against the back of Jack's fist, rubbing up and down like a wet rubber mouth, drooling over his fingers and the heel of his hand and his knuckles and his wrist. The pleasure inside her began to increase, as though her orgasm was a balloon being slowly pumped full of air, and the in-and-out thrust of Jack's raping fingers were somehow working an invisible pump doing the job, bloating her vaginal membranes with warm moist air, until the orgasm building up inside her was so hugely swollen that it filled her entire cunt, and, with the very next thrust of his fingertips, the balloon would explode, and her body would be all but destroyed by the ferocity of the impact ... she jerked her cunt away, rolling against Jack's naked body, gasping, moaning.
"Erica, what are you-"
"Shut up," she moaned. "Quiet!"
With her fingers wrapped so tightly around the pole of his cock that it throbbed painfully between them, she pulled herself down the length of Jack's body. She could hear the pumping rhythm of his heart through his chest, along with the tympanic vibrations of his taut stomach muscles. She twisted herself away from him, pulling herself up with his dick. Erica's sensuous lips parted, and she felt the fat tip of her lover's cock slipping between them. His cockhead tasted salty as it slid across her tongue.
"Oh Erica, baby, baby!" Jack groaned, rubbing the tip of his prick back and forth against her teeth. Thighs jerking spasmodically, balls swinging heavily to and fro, he writhed as Erica wantonly licked the head of his tool with flat wet strokes of her tongue, running it around the glans, teasing the ridge of the bloated bulb. "Suck it, Erica!" Jesus Christ-suck that thing! Suck my cock!"
Holding his body still, Erica ran her mouth up and down the length of the cock, screwing her head around in a semi-circle, bathing the quivering shaft in her warm saliva. Her lips had to strain at their corners to get around the thick meat, and she flattened her tongue against the floor of her mouth so that Jack's bloated prick could penetrate her orally to its fullest extent. She could feel the head of his dick thrusting against the opening of her throat, as though trying to go deeper down inside her body ... Erica began to suck it. Wildly!
"Great, Erica-great!" Jack howled lustfully as her lips pulled on him, drawing up his knees and shuddering as though her mouth were hurting his cock. He reached down for the top of her head, sinking his fingers into her blonde hair, pressing them against her scalp, forcing her mouth lower and lower on his cock as he pumped it into her mouth with fierce quick motions of his hips and buttocks. The hair around the root of his prick tickled Erica's nostrils, and his cockshaft twitched and pulsed across her tongue as though it had a will, a potent life force, all its own. "Oh God-suck it! That's fantastic! Great! You really know how to suck cock!"
Erica pulled her lascivious mouth away from his cock ... Jack moaned, but he was too excited to try to stop her. She clambered up quickly, over his body, with her thighs spread wide around his midsection and her breasts swaying. She reached down behind her ass and found his cock. Sitting straight up, she pulled his prick toward her cunt, inserted it between her wet, slippery lips, and sat down-hard.
Jack's cock shot up inside her pussy....
"Jesus!" he cried, grunting hoarsely as he filled her. "Oh shit!"
"Oh! Oh, fuck! Fuck, oh oh!" Erica whimpered, her voice growing louder and shriller, more piercing, as Jack's cock impaled her completely. "Oh! OH! OHHHHH FUCK ME JACK FUCK MY CUNT HARD!!!"
She didn't wait to see if he would start pumping up into her. She raised and lowered herself recklessly with her thighs, moving herself until she was squatting over his prostrated body and the only point of contact between the two of them was his cock jammed up into her cunt. No other part of their bodies touched. Erica flexed and unflexed her thighs, raising and lowering herself on Jack's body, fucking herself almost savagely on his erection trapped inside her hot, wet pussy. His prick slammed in and out of her, making a wet squishy noise of pure sexuality.
"Erica! I'm going to come!" Jack moaned. He put his hands on her hips, forcing her body down around his expanding shaft, locking her cunt to his cock. His prick felt hot-incredibly hot-against the walls of her vagina, and she could feel his big stud balls swelling even larger under her ass cheeks as she rocked on top of him. "I'm going to fucking come-!"
Erica wrenched her cunt up, away from him....
"Oh nooooo!" Jack sobbed. "Not yet! Too soon! I'm-!"
"What can't you do to Gayle?" Erica demanded eagerly, panting, leaning over Jack's tensed, writhing body. "What won't she let you do to her in bed? What kind of filthy, depraved things have you always wanted to do to a woman? Tell me!"
Jack groaned. "Erica...!"
"Tell me!" she demanded. "What won't she let you do to her?! What have you always wanted to do to her-but she wouldn't let you?!"
He was holding his painfully distended, empurpled cock in both hands, trying to whack it off, as she reached down and pried his fingers off it. "Ass...!" he gasped.
"Ass what?" Erica shrieked...." fuck! She never-let me-!"
"Ass fuck me, Jack!" Erica pleaded lewdly, throwing herself face down on the mattress next to him. She pulled a pillow under her face, twisting it sideways so that it was stuffed under her breasts and cushioned their fullness. She raised herself on her knees, spreading her thighs brazenly wide so that her ass jutted out temptingly above and behind her. "Go on, do it! Ass fuck me! Fuck my ass! Shove your big prick up my asshole and fuck it! Ass fuck me, fuck my ass, ass-"
Jack was already moving behind her, his cock enormous as it swayed in front of his groin. He got into a kneeling position behind Erica and his cock went between her parted, jiggling ass cheeks and deep into her anus, ramming into her like a spear of fire. Erica pressed back, fighting the pain of the anal penetration, and discovered a perverse kind of pleasure in the act. She continued to squeeze down around Jack's prick with her anal muscles, soaring through one dizzying level of pleasure after another, even higher, each spasm in her asshole more shattering, more intense and thrilling than the one before it. They began to come-almost simultaneously, Jack's cock spurting its rich male fluid into her ass, filling its every quaking recess.
A gift! Erica thought, coming all over the bed, screaming wildly. A symbolic gift of my body! I'm doing it for Jack, I'm letting him screw me up the ass! It hurts, but God, am I ever coming! So hard! So much! It feels so fucking wild! I'm doing it for him ... I'm doing it for Jack!!!
* * *
Half an hour later, they were in another taxi, pulling up in front of the building containing the network's offices and studios, looking like nothing more than two co-workers and casual friends. As she stepped out of the vehicle, however, Erica froze in shock, stunned to see Gayle running out of the lobby and across the sidewalk toward them, shouting like a demented woman. She'd evidently been waiting for them to come back....
My God, Erica thought desperately, she's found out! Somehow she's found out about me and Jack! The shit's about to hit the fan! Oh no-! Glancing at Jack, she saw that he had jumped to the same conclusion, and looked equally terrified.
But they were both, mercifully, wrong. "I found her!" Gayle screamed exultantly. "I found her! Oh, why didn't I think of her before?! I could kick myself-!"
"Gayle!" Erica said sharply, relief flooding her and making her knees go weak under her. "What the hell are you ranting and raving about?"
"Our slut! I found our slut! Someone to play Darlene next week! I've talked to her and she wants to do it! God, why I never thought of her in the first place I'll never know-she's perfect for the part-"
"Great, great, but who is she? Who is this you're so excited about?" Erica demanded as they dragged Gayle back inside the building, trying to calm her down-and exchanged guilty, relieved glances that Gayle was too preoccupied to notice.
"There's only one little problem-one potential problem-"
"Who is she?"
"One tiny problem-"
Gayle!!!"
"She's, uh, well ... she's a porno actress. That's all."
CHAPTER SIX
Gayle had made the never-to-be-forgotten acquaintance of Viorica Urban, Porno Star, during her brief but eventful sojourn as an editor and writer for Gash, a short-lived ripoff of a classier men's magazine. When the feminist magazine Gayle had been employed by previously ran out of money, she had felt desperate enough to accept just about anything short of prostitution. Scanning the want ads, Gayle spotted a tiny notice: WANTED-File Clerk, Publishing House, $90 week. It sounded good to her, then. Jack was busy auditioning for a couple of on-and-off Broadway plays, so he didn't ask too many questions when she told him she had a job interview. The man on the phone had asked about Gayle's "background." She tried to impress him, down-playing her most recent job-she could tell just from the sound of his voice and his heavy breathing into the receiver that the guy was a male chauvinist type-and was relieved when he didn't seem too curious about the details of her previous experience.
More heavy breathing, then: "Do you know what kind of a company this is?" Rhetorical question-of course she didn't, not from the information in that laconicly phrased ad. Gayle waited ... "We, uh, we put out girlie magazines. If you can handle it, call me back and we'll set up an appointment."
Could she handle it? Gayle asked herself as she stared at the phone after hanging up. She honestly didn't know. It all sounded pretty sleazy. She tried to reassure herself with stories of well-known writers who began their literary careers writing porn-Arthur Miller, Anais Nin, Lawrence Durrell. She decided to take the plunge. She was hired as George's (the breather on the phone) assistant, discovering that he was the head of the magazine's photo department. Her first task, in a poorly-lit cubicle in the back of the converted store, was sorting and filing pictures for possible use in the magazine. Gayle quickly learned that there were several distinct categories. First, beaver ... magazines devoted entirely to excruciatingly intimate, detailed close-up shots of the vagina, either au naturel or spread with two manicured fingertips for the camera's inspection. Gayle was fascinated. The cunts looked like flowers, butterflies, bats, Rohrshach tests ... she realized that she'd never taken a good look at her own pussy, and remedied that the first time she used the John at work, putting her compact mirror down there to reflect her-well, her gash. What a grotesque word for it!
Then there were photos of intercourse, or, more precisely, of simulated intercourse. The simulation was what made it safely soft-core-no insertions, no erections, no anuses, nothing hard or open or plugged. The photographer liked to shoot two women with one man, or two couples in every conceivable combination of orgiastic excess ... everything except two men together, Gayle quickly concluded: male homosexuality was obviously handled by another company that spealized in it.
Her job was to sort and file the photos so that the same female model was not used twice in three or four months. George told her he didn't care about the male models; nobody looked at them-which immediately made Gayle feel guilty because she'd been industriously comparing and evaluating penises and asses and hairy pecs right from the start. The magazine's regular customers, George explained in his laborious manner, didn't like to be reminded that the sex shown in the shots wasn't the real raunchy thing, so they had to rotate the women and count on the consumer forgetting what he'd drooled and jerked off over three months before.
After two weeks of filing photos Gayle was kicked upstairs-promoted because somebody in the company (she privately thought of it as "the porno factory") noticed on her resume that she was a writer. The organization produced about ten soft and hard-core magazines besides Gash, and tons of dirty books. Gayle's first writing assignment was an article titled "The Lesbian Prostitute." Since she was neither a lesbian nor a prostitute, she was terrified of the challenge ahead of her ... her creative writing professors in college had always told her to write from personal experience. "Failing that," one of them had once remarked drily in class, "just fake it." Pause. "Like an orgasm." Had he known what might lie ahead of his innocent pupils?!
Gayle went home that day loaded down with sample issues of the magazine, plus the names of "authorities" on both lesbianism and prostitution. She was also given a mimeographed document explaining the "formula" desired, the magic recipe that all respectable porno writers were expected to follow to the letter. The first part of the article had to be reasonably straight-forward, misinformative description of lesbian activity in brothels. The second part had to be a juicy, super-sexy "case history," illustrating-explicitly-all of the bizarre sexual practices mentioned in the first section. Naturally, some clutzy man had to appear in the end to rescue the more "feminine" of the two dyke lovers from depravity and save her body for heterosexuality.
Jesus Christ, Gayle thought, as, numbly, she seated herself, tried to imagine some very mannish woman ravishing her body, and let her fingers fly over the typewriter keyboard. After the first few puerile sentences her fingers came to an embarrassed halt ... first of all, she had no idea whatsoever of what lesbians did to each other in bed. She settled down with her books and gave herself a crash course in lesbian techniques.
"What the hell are you reading?" Jack asked, glancing up from the script he had his nose buried in. He'd landed a small but good part in a costume drama, and couldn't have been more ecstatic-or, fortunately for Gayle, preoccupied in rehearsals most of the day. As a result, he hadn't asked her much about her new job, accepting her evasive, blushing answers at face value. "It looks like some kind of a smut book," he declared, upon closer examination of the book in he hands.
"It isn't smut-it's obscenity," Gayle replied primly, quoting one of George's more provocative aphorisms.
"There's a difference?"
"There sure is, darling ... and I'll show you in bed later on tonight," Gayle promised. All those descriptions of cunnilingual bliss she'd been reading had started to get to her, and she could all but feel Jack's hot, wet tongue on her burningly swollen clit. This job just might do wonders for their sex life.
After a week of anxiety attacks, she delivered the article, replete with typos, to the "factory." A week later she got a check for seventy-five bucks, and blew every cent of it on new clothes on her way home that night.
"Gayle!" George barked to her one afternoon a few weeks later, when Gayle was immersed in her latest article, on "Satyriasis-The Male Answer to Nymphomania." She looked up from her typewriter. "Get your ass down to this address and interview this cunt whose new fuck film is opening tomorrow ... it's a rush job, we want to stick it in next month's issue, when the lousy movie'll still be playing downtown." George treated her like just one of the boys now, no longer bothering to watch his never-very-elegant language.
"But I've never done an interview," Gayle protested meekly, already knowing it would be no use to argue. "I'm a writer, not a journalist-"
"You've got a brain in your head and you can ask questions and take notes, can't you?" George retorted, exasperated. "Somebody's got to do this shit, and you just volunteered. There's nothing to it-just ask the cunt the usual crap, what she thinks about screwing in front of the camera for millions of horny jerkoffs, and so on ... if she doesn't say anything worth printing, you'll just have to make it all up once you get back. Don't expect any brilliant repartee from this bitch." Repartee was one of those words that George often threw out, throwing Gayle and his other employees. "She's paid to open her legs, not her mouth-no, I take that back. Anyway, she's not paid to be smart or articulate." Articulate, yet! What next?! Gayle thought.
Resigning herself to the ordeal, Gayle shrugged her shoulders, picked up her purse, making sure she had a pad and pencil in it, and left to find a taxi-reminding herself to make sure George paid for it later.
After giving the driver the address, she examined the note George had thrust into her hand-Viorica Urban, Porno Star, 12 Wilson Street, Apt. B, Greenwich Village, George had scribbled. That was all Gayle had to work from. Still, it might be an interesting experience. A woman who acted in blue movies! Good God! Jack would shit, if and when she told him-or maybe he'd just get very turned on by the thought of his wife consorting with somebody like that.
It was a run-down street in the middle of the Village's gay ghetto. Gayle rang the bell nervously. She had expected Viorica Urban to be some hard, well-worn whore ... she was hardly prepared for the vibrantly beautiful young woman who opened the door. Even though she was zonked out on hash oil, as she readily admitted later on in the interview-"Oh, I feel so totally stoned ... oh, sure; don't you? I get whacked every morning, unless I'm working ... it interferes with the concentration I need to ball on a set. Want some?"-Viorica looked ravishingly sexy, one of the most sensuously voluptuous women Gayle had ever met. She was tall, nearly six feet, her hair a rich reddish-auburn that flowed down over her shoulders. It was natural, as Gayle discovered later, when she saw the color nude photos that Viorica's manager had supplied Gash with to accompany the interview. The actress had a glistening, seductive mouth and green eyes. The clear outline of two huge nipples told Gayle that she wasn't wearing anything underneath her flowing jumpsuit with its tight hips and plunging neckline, and Gayle caught the smell of a light musky oil on the woman's body.
Viorica was a gracious hostess, making Gayle quickly feel completely at ease. In the course of getting the star's background, Gayle couldn't help asking her if she ever felt guilty about appearing in fuck films ... didn't her family back home in Wisconsin object to her choice of a career?
"Darling, in the first place, my family is super-straight. They hardly ever go to any movie that's 'preggy'-I mean, PG-and they'd never be caught dead at an X movie, much less a movie like Deep Ass. Some people just can't get into the anal trip ... not me. My problem has always been getting out of it. My preferences are to be fucked in the throat, ass, and cunt-in that order, if not all three at once." Gayle got all that down, disguising her shock, and marked it as a possible verbatim quote.
And so it went-Viorica not even having to be asked many questions, as she chatted on unselfconsciously about her mind-blowing erotic exploits on celluloid.
When published, the interview turned out to be the most lurid-and, therefore, successful-piece Gayle had yet done for the magazine. She was given a raise and an ongoing assignment to ghost-write a sex-advice column presumably written by Ms. Urban herself-who was out in California working on the sequel to Deep Ass, but occasionally telephoned Gayle at work to chat and thank her for all the nice publicity. Because there weren't any real letters from readers for the first few columns, Gayle had to make up both the inquiries and "Viorica's" salacious replies. She found herself recommending that women who wanted to experience "total sensuality" begin by masturbating, not just clitorally but vaginally; for best results she told her readers to run out to the nearest sex shop for a large vibrating dildo ... advocating bisexuality "as a matter of course, if not of conscious political principle" ... giving advice on how to conduct an orgy in your own home ...!
"You really confront your own sexuality in that business," Gayle explained to Erica in her office. "I was really quite sad when the company went bankrupt. Anyway, Viorica phoned long-distance from the West Coast this afternoon, while you and Jack were gone, out of the blue (pardon the pun!), just to say hello and ask what I've been doing with myself since Gash folded ... she's really very sweet, for a-for someone who-who does what she does. She just finished another film-another top-grosser (oh dear!)-and when I just happened I to mention the problem we were having casting the role of Darlene on Heart, she said she's become a loyal viewer ever since you took over and would love to meet you when she comes back to New York this weekend ... and then I just blurted out, would she consider auditioning for the part? And she said sure, she'd love to do it, even though it'll mean committing herself to us when she could be making more films, because like every porno star she wants to go legit ... do you think it's insane, or is there a possibility you'd hire her? It would create a tremendous controversy-but then again, the publicity might not hurt us."
Erica's mind was spinning as she considered all the implications. A fuck-flick actress on The Heart Has Secrets! But ... why not? Arnold Fredericks would shit a brick. But it might just be worth the risk of alienating some conservative viewers, for the sake of the juicy publicity that such an unprecedented action would inevitably bring them. Every man who'd seen one of Viorica Urban's many films would tune in if he could. And she'd probably be so eager for a chance to go legit, to star in a popular television serial, that she'd come cheap and be easy to work with. She and Gayle were friends, of a sort, another asset. By now, Erica trusted Gayle's judgment. She wouldn't propose it if the woman were just another dumb cunt making sexploitation crap. By God, I'll do it! Erica decided on the spot.
She and Gayle consulted a newspaper, and, sure enough, one of Viorica's old films was playing in New York. "We'll go," Erica said. "We'll take the rest of the day off and go right now-catch the afternoon showing. I want to see this broad in action."
"We could just as well go tonight," Gayle pointed out. "It says there are continuous showings-"
"Gayle, dear, take another look at the address. It's obviously not the kind of movie theater two women would want to go to after dark, unless they were 'working girls' in another sense than you and I are."
"Oh, right. Maybe we ought to take Jack along? For protection?"
"Christ, no. I don't want to be responsible for corrupting him ... it'll be bad enough, if she gets the part, that he'll have to play opposite her every afternoon! Have you thought about that?"
Gayle only laughed, and without saying anything to a rather mystified Jack, they dropped everything and took a taxi down to the Times Square area where the porno theater was located.
Some wit had defaced the marquee: where once had been written "continuous showings," he had substituted the letter u for the first o, and crossed out the rest of the word. "Cunt showing!" Gayle read, shocked. "Oh, God-but I guess it is a lot more appropriate!"
She laughed, although she was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. Actually, she'd never seen a porno film before, not even any of Viorica's, and she was afraid her innocence about such things might betray her in front of a presumably knowledgable and appreciative audience. If there was going to be any audience. The inside of the theater was small, dirty, and ill lit, and there was only a handful of patrons for this showing-mostly middle-aged, mostly male, mostly drunk, tired-looking, or both. There were a few females-all hookers, just as Erica had predicted; and, as the most attractive women present, she and Gayle drew their share of lustful stares. Mercifully, minutes after they had chosen two aisle seats in the last row-to make a quick getaway should it prove necessary-the lights dimmed and then went completely out. The flimsy curtain jerked noisily open and the screen was revealed. After a rather unprofessional display of numbers-5,4,3,2,1-the film boldly announced itself in passion pink letters: The Pink Pussy Comes Again! The lettering melted into the flesh-pink background ... which, as the credits unrolled, turned out to be the naked torso of none other than Viorica Urban herself, posed on red satin sheets. The final credit of her name in blazing scarlet was superimposed on an extreme closeup of the insides of her spread thighs. Her pussy had been shaved bare for this role. "My God!" Erica blurted out as the letters vanished up Viorica's cunt and the camera zoomed in on the inner folds of the star's sex organs.
The movie itself was a curious mixture of hard-core pornography and sophomoric wit. There were constant double-entendres and juvenile dirty jokes that suggested the producers didn't take themselves or their audience too seriously. There was a sex act for everybody's taste, including the tasteless. Viorica performed her quasi-acrobatic stunts admirably, with great agility and seeming enjoyment ... certainly she was totally abandoned, as though unconscious of the cameras on her, or indeed reveling in them, as she writhed this way and that, spread her legs on cue, swallowed every cock that was thrust toward her mouth, went down on several women, was fucked in both lower orifices simultaneously, was the grateful recipient of countless come shots, and groaned in convincingly simulated delight when any part of her body was so much as approached, let alone touched. There was a kind of innocent high spirits that transported the film out of the ranks of truly offensive pornography.
The film ended with an appropriate shot of Viorica's shapely derriere, and the lights in the auditorium flickered on. There was scattered applause, and Gayle and Erica both got up and staggered through the lobby. Once they were safely outside, they looked at each other-and shrieks of laughter exploded from them both.
"She's no great shakes as an actress," Gayle had to admit, wiping away tears of laughter, as she caught her breath.
"Who gives a shit?" Erica retorted happily.
"She's perfect for the part. Every woman in our target audience will either envy her or hate her guts ... and the men! I don't have to tell you how they'll react. More and more of them are watching the soaps, you know. And with her playing Darlene, Heart could turn into the first soap with more men than women viewers. You've got to help me talk her into accepting the contract." Erica looked at her watch. "It's late ... hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we go out to dinner-on me?"
It wouldn't be, really; but there was no reason to explain that to Gayle. The dinner wouldn't cost Erica anything, because she could charge it to the network, and they'd just take it off their taxes, as a business expense-a meeting with the head writer. "We can discuss how we could change the script to make the most of the character of Darlene, if Viorica Urban agrees to play her. I don't want any drastic changes-but if we do get her, we ought to really play it up, let her enter with-pardon the expression-with a bang."
Gayle laughed, still feeling giddy from viewing the porno film. "Okay, I'll phone Jack, though, and tell him I won't be home until later. You're really spoiling us-taking him out to lunch, and me for dinner now, all in the same day."
"It's been an eventful one," Erica said drily.
The truth was that seeing the lesbian activities in Viorica's movie had reminded her of Jill, and of Catherine, and had turned her on. She realized that she wanted Gayle. Erica possessed Gayle's mind, at work, but that wasn't enough for her. She wanted Gayle's body as well. Erica remembered how she'd felt the moment Gayle had walked into her office earlier that afternoon ... those raw, uncontrollable sexual urges came back to her now, intensified, and she realized that she had always wanted Gayle, wanted her body, wanted to control her ... perhaps that was why she had taken Jack as her lover-not to take him away from Gayle, but because she wanted to identify with Gayle.
Erica's head was reeling with the implications of it all. But, out of all her inner chaos, one thing was certain-that she lusted for Gayle. And whatever Erica wanted, she usually got, by fair means or foul.
Right then and there she decided she was going to seduce Gayle, just as she had seduced her husband. But it was a staggering challenge. Erica quickly laid her plans ... even as she conceived them, she began putting them into action, testing them, callously, with a cool objectivity in gauging Gayle's reactions that belied the lust smoldering within her cunt.
They went to a nearby restaurant Erica knew about, nothing fancy, but with a good wine cellar; Gayle left a message for Jack with their answering service, and the two women ordered dinner. Erica kept filling her guest's wine glass and keeping her distracted with a flow of easy conversation about the soap opera, Viorica Urban, and her erotic versatility in the film they'd seen together. She laid special emphasis on the actress' lesbian skills. When Erica invited Gayle to drop in at her apartment before going home to Jack, Gayle didn't hesitate to accept.
The apartment wasn't far from the restaurant, so they walked. Gayle was in a happy, expansive mood, pleased at having possibly solved the Darlene problem, and so relaxed after dinner that she was having trouble keeping herself from giggling over nothing much. Erica settled her on the same couch where Catherine had half-raped, half-seduced her three months earlier-her last sexual experience with another woman-and began pouring double-strength martinis into Gayle, as though she were an empty pitcher Erica wanted to fill. Erica kept her own drinks weak and watered down, and every time she refilled Gayle's glass she added water to her own to make it look like she was drinking right along with her. It didn't take long at all before Gayle began to look and act cheerfully smashed. Erica, of course, was still cold sober, but she played along, pretending to be as high as Gayle was. And she was-only on pure sexual excitement and nervousness, not booze.
The actual seduction was something Erica hadn't quite worked out any details for, although she instinctively rejected Catherine's approach as too crude. So she bided her time, sitting beside Gayle on the sofa, laughing and talking, waiting for some sort of opening.
"I really think Viorica's retained this sort of-unspoiled quality-even though she fucks and sucks like anything, and not just on screen," Gayle explained, still feeling obligated to defend the actress to Erica. "There's a certain innocence about her, as sexy as she is ... I really uh, like her a lot."
Something about the way Gayle said it struck Erica as significant. Intuitively, she sensed they might be getting onto the right path, and she tried her best to exploit this promising subject:
"Honey, you can't fool me ... I know what you like about her. You wish that, just once, just for a day or a week or a month, you could be like her and screw around all you wanted, just for the sake of the experience. Am I right?"
Gayle's cheeks went scarlet, and Erica knew that her calculated guess had been right on target. "Is it that obvious?"
"It's written all over your face...."
Gayle sighed resignedly. "I can't help it, Erica," she confided, talking to the other woman as she might to her older sister, Jill, and sipping her drink. "When Viorica called so unexpectedly today, it immediately reminded me of all the mind-blowingly horny things I read and heard about while I was working for Gash magazine ... and the stories Viorica used to tell me, all about orgies and quickie fucks ... let alone seeing her do all those things today ... it got me wet, I have to admit it! I saw her screwing all those good-looking, well-hung guys up there on the screen, and I thought about Jack, and all sorts of crazy, sexual thoughts started running through my mind. I wish I was that liberated, erotically, and had the nerve to-well, take a lover!" she blurted out, as though the idea were unspeakably depraved. "Or something!"
Here it is, Erica thought, glancing at her casually over her drink-handed to me by sweet innocent Gayle herself, on a silver platter! The key to her cunt!
"Well, why don't you fuck somebody nice, then?"
Electricity was suddenly in the air-Erica could feel it radiating from Gayle's unfocused eyes as she stared silently at her for some time. "Are you serious, Erica? Fool around? Behind Jack's back? Oh, I-I just couldn't! It wouldn't be right...."
"Nonsense. Go off some night after work, hit a singles' bar or call up some old boyfriend or a girlfriend's husband, and get yourself good and laid. Get it out of your system, dear. Jack'll reap the benefits without having to know anything happened-you'll appreciate him in bed more once you've sampled a little variety in cocks."
"I don't think I could do it," Gayle said uncertainly. "Although, I'll confess I have thought about it ... every time I've noticed a particularly humpy guy, at work or on the street."
Erica watched her dip her middle finger into her martini, then bring the wet finger up to her mouth and suck on it. It was such an obvious, if quite unconscious, sexual gesture that Erica knew immediately what kind of thoughts were running through Gayle's liquor-heated brain.
Gayle asked, "You wouldn't mind? I mean, if I should decide to do something like that, you wouldn't think less of me or not want that kind of woman working for you any more?"
Create the right permissive atmosphere, Erica warned herself. "Mind?! Are you kidding me?! Gayle, I wouldn't give a shit if you started fucking around with your own sister, Jill-or any other man-or woman. If you want to try a little harmless playing around to improve your sex life, go right ahead. Ball all the guys on the set for all I care. Believe me, I've had my share of them. I've fucked more guys at work than I care to be reminded of." Just ask your husband! she added mentally, smirking.
Gayle looked surprised. "You've done it at the studio? With actors-crew members?"
For an instant a parade of her past affairs flashed through Erica's memory. There were too many to remember them all! "Sure ... with anybody, man or woman, that I've found attractive."
She leaned forward toward Gayle. "Listen, darling, life is too short not to take whatever you want and fuck the consequences ... even though I haven't met her yet-and I'm dying to-I really admire and respect that Viorica. She has the balls to tell the world that she's a sexual woman who loves to fuck and suck ... imagine being like her ... I suppose she's genuinely bisexual, that it really doesn't matter to her if she has sex with a man or a lesbian, as long as she's turned on by them? She certainly seemed to enjoy having her cunt licked by those two pretty young girls in the film, and going down on them herself. She really came, you know. I can tell. She wasn't just faking it for the camera. Her pussy creamed all over the place and her nipples got so swollen and hot-looking, I expected them to explode. And her cunt! God, she has a beautiful pussy, doesn't she? And she sure knows what to do with that dynamite body of hers...."
Erica watched Gayle push herself back against the rear cushion of the sofa and squirm a little as she listened to the lewd talk. The color had drained from her lovely face except for two bright spots on her cheeks. Her hands trembled slightly, and her breathing had become irregular. All this openly sexual talk, plus her fantasies of emulating Viorica and the liquor, had succeeded in arousing her-as Erica had hoped they would.
"I don't know," Gayle gasped, an unmistakable longing in her voice. "I just don't know if I could do anything like that ... even in private, let alone in front of other people, for a movie!"
This was it, Erica sensed immediately. The decisive moment was at hand. All it needed was one final, bold push to get Gayle over the remaining obstacles in her mind, her crumbling inhibitions. Something bold-but not blatant, like Catherine's "backrub." Something that would obliterate every other thought from Gayle's mind but one: sex!
Excitedly, Erica drained her glass and put it down on the coffee table. Her body was charged with raw sexual electricity, and she could feel herself tingling as the horny mood enveloped her and gave her courage. She stood up quickly, reaching behind herself, tugging on her sweater.
"Goddamn bra," she grunted, pulling at the cashmere. "I hate them!" She looked intently at Gayle's innocent face, her eyes burning with the fever of lust. "Would you mind if I just took it off? It's so fucking uncomfortable...."
Gayle laughed thinly. "Sure, go ahead. It's your apartment, for God's sake. Be comfortable."
Erica was breathing heavily, and she had to get a good grip on her sweater before she could pull it free from her skirt. She reached down with both hands and pulled the sweater over her head, turning it inside out, then stood there in front of Gayle with only the thin lace of her bra keeping her from partial nudity. Gayle's eyes widened, and Erica watched her spill some of her drink and not even notice it because she was staring so fixedly at Erica, her gaze caressing the mounds of Erica's breasts.
Erica pulled her bra down, and the cool air in the room licked at her nipples, making them stiffen in instant arousal. She pulled the brassiere all the way down to her waist before unclasping it and throwing it aside, standing boldly in the center of the room, her bare breasts jutting massively toward Gayle's riveted eyes and gaping mouth.
"They're beautiful," Gayle mumbled, only marginally aware that she had spoken the thought aloud. Her thighs spread slightly as though in unconscious invitation, pulling the material of her skirt taut across her lap. "They're...."
She broke off as Erica clasped her breasts in the palms of her hands, hefting and squeezing their softness, pulling them around until an ache of dull pleasure made her entire body pulse in tune to it. She could feel the rigidity of her nipples, rubbing against her fingers, peeking out between them.
"Oh, God," she moaned blatantly, closing her eyes and absorbing the languid pleasure that rippled through her flesh as she caressed herself. "That feels so good!"
She rubbed her tits a moment or two longer, then opened her eyes and looked down at Gayle, her hands straining to contain the soft, doughy mounds. "These?" she laughed lightly. "Beautiful? You've got to be kidding. Look at how they sag!" She offered her tits for Gayle's closer inspection, her fingers lifting and thrusting them out for her to see.
"No-no, you're wrong," Gayle argued. "They're really lovely-just fine! So large ... so feminine. Men really go for that."
Suck her in, Erica thought heatedly. Suck her in deeper, until she's in over her head!
She laughed with calculated skepticism. It was time to get Gayle to make a move on her own. "Oh, there's nothing 'feminine' about these tits. They're cow udders! Now, you-you have really feminine breasts. Small ... but shapely ... and so firm! Incredible! Christ," Erica added slyly, laying her trap, "I'll bet you're not even wearing a bra tonight. Are you?"
Obediently, Gayle moved her head from side to side in denial: "No-no, I'm not, as a matter-of-fact. I hardly ever wear a bra any more-"
Erica's voice went hoarse with desire: "Honestly? Not ever? Good God, how I envy you! Could I see them? Your breasts?" she demanded. She forced herself to calm down, to smile warmly but innocently. "I mean, just out of curiosity ... to compare them ... of course."
But her thighs were trembling, and wetness leaked steadily out of her cunt lips until her panties were glued to her crotch flesh as she watched Gayle slowly stagger to her feet. Confused excitement twisted her eyes out of focus, made the words spill from her lips in halting fragments: "I guess ... I'm not ... I'm sure if you want to ... I, I-!"
She began to unbutton her blouse, fingers tugging at the pearl buttons down the front of the clinging, revealing white satin fabric. It separated, and, breathlessly, unable to believe it was really happening as she had hoped it would, Erica stared at her, watching intently as the V of Gayle's cleavage widened, exposing more and more of her tanned body. Her hands suddenly dropped like two lead weights to her sides, pulling the blouse wide open, letting her tits fly out in Erica's direction, bold and pert ... Erica sucked in her breath in an involuntary gasp. Her fingers ached to caress the buds of Gayle's tender-looking, perfectly shaped nipples! Guided by a mind of its own, her right hand began to rise and stretch out in front of her, reaching through the empty air, fingers extended and straining forward, beckoning at Gayle's naked flesh, her fine breasts....
Her brain felt on fire, and she could hardly think, let alone speak coherently; but, somehow, the words came rushing out-"Can I ... can I touch them, Gayle?! Oh please let me! Please let me just touch them, once!"
Gayle's head nodded awkwardly, her throat constricting as she, too, struggled against her passion to speak. "Yes ... I guess so ... if you really want to, sure, go ahead ... yes, oh yesssss!"
Erica touched her. She touched those flawless breasts and she could feel the searing voltage of lust course up from Gayle's flesh through hers, up her arm, up her spine, firing her brain with jolts of flashing neon-like excitement. Tremulously, her fingertips brushed over the tip of one breast, like tongues lapping timidly at the warm, breathing skin. She groped Gayle's breast like a blind woman, sucking sensation up through her caressing fingers. The nipple hardened under her palm and began to throb hotly against its light pressure.
Gayle had closed her eyes. "Be gentle with me, Erica," she moaned, shuddering as her body began to respond, her nub-like nipples stiffening quickly between Erica's fingers. Her voice was barely a whisper as she gasped again and again, "Oh, be gentle ... please ... I never did it before ... please, please!"
Erica lowered her face toward Gayle's tit, opening her watering mouth wide and extending her tongue. She thought, God, am I horny for her! And I'm going to do something about it! Now, right now!
Gayle's firm, hard nipple began to vibrate wildly against her tongue from the first split-second of contact. She sank back onto the sofa and began to moan and writhe against Erica, opening and closing her drawn-up thighs, as Erica crushed her wet mouth down around the nipple and went on sucking it with increasing force, lashing out with her tongue to stab and excite it. Erica's hand plunged up underneath Gayle's rumpled skirt to stroke her bare thighs above her stocking tops. Gayle buried her hands in Erica's disheveled blonde hair and pressed the other woman's face hard against her shuddering breast, begging her hoarsely to "Suck-suck it, Erica, oh shit! Darling! Suck on them, suck on my tits!"
Gayle couldn't believe it, that Erica was making love to her ... she felt appallingly turned on, as though her entire body had suddenly been set on fire from deep within it, electrified by the touch of Erica's warm wet sucking lips around her nipple. She cried out shrilly as an exceptionally strong jolt of sexual excitement shot through her womb, taking her completely by surprise. It felt almost like she was going to come! Already!
"Oh God no, Erica-suck, suck on my tits! No! Yes! I'm so hot! So hot already! So soon! I can't stand it, I'm so sexed up! I have to come-I just have to! Help me!"
She tore one hand away from Erica's head and groped for the zipper at the side of her own skirt. Gayle got it open and thrust the skirt open and halfway down her thighs, arching her ass high off the cushions to do so, baring her hips, her threshing thighs, her panty-sheathed cuntal mound, her behind ... then, moaning, Gayle ran the flat of her hand over the juicy rise of her pussy, stroking herself shamelessly through the thin, sopping-wet nylon of her bikini pants, rubbing a fingertip right over the place where her stiffening clit was tucked away to raise her sexual temperature still higher and soothe the raw, lustful urges that had begun to nag at her vaginal muscles as she writhed on the sofa and let Erica lick and suck her tits.
"Let's both get naked, darling," Erica suggested wantonly, thrilled by the way Gayle was getting into it. "I want to see every part of your beautiful body-I'm going to kiss and suck it all over! I want to make love to all of you at once! Hurry, Gayle! Hurry, dear! Take it all off fast!"
"Oh yes, yes, do it, undress me, help me, take off my clothes and play with my hot pussy-can't you see how hot and wet it's getting already?!" Gayle blurted out frantically.
She allowed Erica to throw her arms around her, lift her from the sofa, and strip her completely in quick, efficient motions. Erica shed the rest of her own disordered garments, and then the two women were pressing their bodies together completely naked. Gayle let herself be drawn into Erica's bedroom and onto the bed ... the other woman's tongue was still rubbing wetly over her nipples, but now the horny sensations thus created were multiplied by a hot shiver of pleasure as Gayle felt Erica's warm, soft caresses sweep up and down her entire nude and vulnerable body-down the insides of her thighs, over her taut jiggling buttocks, and down into the damp cleft between her legs. Erica's probing fingers brushed over her pubic hair and the lips of her hot, wet cunt ... "Oh yes!" Gayle screamed. "Do it! Do it, Erica! Play with me, finger my pussy! Finger my cunt!"
She was unable to resist her friend's teasing explorations of her craving flesh, too sexed up to care about whether it was lesbianism or not. She had to have a good come, no matter how!
She nearly shrieked with excitement when she felt Erica's face eagerly pressing down between her parted thighs, Erica's hands grasping her ass cheeks and kneading them gently ... Erica's mouth crushed against her cunt lips moistly, heatedly, kissing the wet sticky slit that twitched and gaped open to accept her thrust-out,' probing tongue. Erica could smell and taste Gayle's fresh, clean, intoxicating excitement gushing out of her pussy as she ran her tongue over the labial opening, tasting the pungent flavor between it, not entirely certain just how to proceed to give another woman head but doing her best to remember and imitate what Catherine had done to her on that memorable night of unbridled lesbian lust.
"lick it! Oh Christ!" Gayle cried, arching her ass high off the bed to press her pussy harder against Erica's mouth. She fell back onto the mattress gasping and let Erica tongue her twat, flicking that warm, wriggly tongue deep inside the little gap, rubbing it wetly over the tip of her clitoris, getting ready to begin the actual eating, the sucking and tongue-fucking that Gayle wanted to enjoy so badly it almost hurt. "Eat me!" she demanded hoarsely. "Oh, Erica, please do it! Get your mouth down on my pussy and eat it out, make me come, I'm so fucking Goddamn close already! Suck' on my clit-oh yeahhhhhl Yesssss-sssssuck, oh sssssuck my hot wet clit for meeeee!!!"
Erica, her fingers digging into the warm mounds of Gayle's writhing buttocks, only groaned in lewd, wordless reply as her tongue obediently pressed hard against the throbbingly extended clitoris and then plunged in deep between the vaginal lips, opening the way for fresh spurts of sweet vaginal lubrications to flood inside her sucking mouth. She could tell that she had succeeded in turning Gayle on as much as any man could ... and, knowing from her own experience just how good Jack was at cunnilingus, Erica thrilled with pride at the thought that she, too, could make Gayle come with her lips and tongue. She'd show Gayle how to give head to a woman! She'd make her come like crazy!
"Ummmmm-yummmmmy!" she groaned voluptuously, licking her lips as she worked on Gayle's feverishly aroused pussy and pulsating clit. "Your sexy hot wet cunt in my mouth! Melting in my mouth! I'm going to eat you all up and make you come, darling!" Her tongue thrust in harder, and Gayle spasmed all over, fighting back shrieks of ecstatic response to the tongue-fucking Erica was lavishing upon her. She pushed Erica's head down between her thighs and exulted in the horny sensations that came from that tongue in her cunt, tickling the underside of her clitoris, her vaginal lips, everything. The juices were running out of her now, wetting Erica's face as she ate out her pussy as she might consume a ripe, swollen peach, bringing Gayle dangerously, but delightfully, close to an explosive climax.
"I'm getting so fucking close!" Gayle screamed. "Don't stop! Lick! Suck! Fuck! Don't stop, don't you dare stop now! Make me come! Come, oh corne!"
Her fingers locked together behind Erica's bobbing head, grinding that tormenting mouth of hers tightly against the distended, dripping lips of Gayle's furiously turned on pussy, the hot, wet, steadily licking and fucking tongue rubbing over her burning-hot clit again and again, pausing only to be driven far up into the molten mushiness of Gayle's snatch itself ... her body convulsed, inside and out. She was going to come!
"Can't stand it!" Gayle wailed desperately, fighting for breath. "Going to! Going to fucking come! Now! Right now! Lick it, Erica, I'm going to come!"
And she was! She was going off inside like a firecracker or a pile of dynamite, her close to hysterical gurgles and whimpers of orgasmic pleasure almost painful as they rippled out of her throat and echoed from the bedroom walls, her body suddenly seeming to melt into hot fiery streams of liquid lust jetting sharply from her spasming vagina as it contracted sharply, then shook and quaked in rapid, shallower vibrations, the orgasm spending itself gradually, wringing the breath from her lungs.
Erica suddenly jammed the full, stiffened length of her tongue up into Gayle's cunt as it orgasmed. Gayle screamed. "I'm coming-again!" she realized it shrill disbelief. "Erica! Jesus Christ! You're doing it to me! You're making me come again! Already! Fuck yeah! Coming! So hard-so wet and hot! It's just too fucking much, I can't take all this ... coming ... oh, oh yes, eat it out, keep me coming ... good God yes!"
Erica's mouth was filled by the sweet sticky flood of Gayle's honeyed vaginal secretions. She moved her tongue around wildly from side to side deep inside the convulsing pussy, stroking and exciting Gayle's exploding clitoris every chance she got as Gayle went on humping her ass and twisting her hips to push her cunt up against Erica's mouth and squeeze orgasm after orgasm out of it. Then, groaning, drenched in her own sweat, Gayle collapsed-satisfied at last-but already looking forward to trying even more, to paying Erica back in any way she could for such intense, mindblowing, cunt-bursting pleasure. She didn't even think of Jack, let alone feel guilty.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack flushed the John in Viorica Urban's Greenwich Village apartment, went over to the sink, and splashed some water over his face. His mouth was full of silky red cunt hairs, and the smell of Viorica Urban's luscious, oft-photographed and filmed pussy was smeared stickily all over his face. Jack scrubbed his face vigorously, sucking up some water from his hands and swishing it around inside his mouth before spitting it back into the sink.
Leaning over the porcelain sink, he gazed at himself in the mirror. He shook his head. What the fuck do they all see in me? he silently demanded of his reflection.
But, of course, he was just putting himself on ... he knew damned well what all the women he'd seduced saw in him ... they saw a good-looking stud who promised to be one hell of a good lay! Jack smiled. He was handsome enough, enough to make it in television on his looks alone. But, even before all the publicity that starring in the soap opera had brought him, women had been after him in droves, all of them looking at him, reacting to him, with the same wild intensity, the same hunger in their eyes and bodies, as if they saw some unique potential answer to their sexual frustrations in him.
And Jack wasn't the kind of guy who would deny them a sporting try. He wasn't about to spoil a good thing by arguing with them, or turning them out of his bed, or denying them his large cock and talented tongue. Let them come to him, the more the merrier!-so that he could just stand back and pick and choose ... from married women, teeny-boppers, engaged girls, even a couple of self-proclaimed lesbians. And his sex appeal had really begun to bring on the cool, staid, middle-aged, middle-class housewives who watched The Heart Has Secrets faithfully every weekday afternoon and no doubt fantasized and masturbated their clits off over him. The women who were pushing forty, supposedly settled down, awaiting menopause, seemed to be the type who got the wildest once they decided to fool around with young guys....
He stepped away from the mirror, striding toward the closed bathroom door. His cock was still wet and sticky from being inside Viorica's insatiably milking cunt, and it plopped down heavily against Jack's muscular left thigh. He stared down at the thick, limp piece of meat between his legs, then lifted it in the palm of his hand, pulling it away from his crotch, stretching it like so much elastic rubber, getting it hard again for Round Two. It was big enough to turn most women on, he supposed ... more importantly, he knew exactly what to do with it to please a woman. Even women like Viorica, who'd certainly been around, tried everything and enjoyed it all, from the way she talked-and misbehaved in bed.
It was inevitable that she and Jack would screw eventually, once Viorica signed up for the show and began taping with him. The redhead was the most sexual female Jack had ever met. She had a professional enough attitude toward the show, trying her best to learn everything about television acting and never being temperamental or trying to upstage anybody. She was liked and respected for that ... and she was liked and appreciated, if not perhaps strictly respected, for balling just about everybody connected with Heart who even remotely appealed to her apparently none too discriminating taste. Viorica was a sexual revolutionary, believing in the practicing liberty, equal opportunity, and open legs and mouth for all. She'd only been on the show a month, but already she'd made it with camera operators, script girls, the supposedly gay (male) set designer, an office boy still in his teens, the vice president of the network ... Jack was almost insulted that she hadn't gotten around to him sooner, although their relations on the set had been amicable enough right from the start.
Viorica was a sensation in the role of Darlene, fully justifying Erica's long shot. The ratings had shot sky-high and, since Viorica had taken the part and run away with it, proving herself an at least acceptable actress, they showed no signs of sagging again-any more than did the breasts the costumer designers made sure the porno star displayed every time she went on the air. Even TV Weekly had done an interview with her, and, as Erica gleefully pointed out, you couldn't get much more Establishment than that. Viewers out in the Bible Belt were having Heart attacks, of course, but Erica's attitude was "fuck them-if they don't come around eventually, we can survive very nicely without them now."
Viorica was sitting on her bed nude, just as Jack had left her to go into the bathroom, her knees drawn up, and the pages of next week's script resting against those incredibly sensuous, tapered thighs of hers. She had her head bent low, immersed in the script, and Jack enjoyed watching her green eyes move back and forth as she followed the lines, a frown of concentration furrowing her forehead. Although she admitted to thirty-five years, her face, like her experienced body, looked like a young girl's-except that it had nothing of a young girl's innocence. Even in repose, even unaware that Jack was observing her, Viorica exuded sex-raw, lusty sex. No wonder hordes of dirty old and not not-so-old men thought nothing of coughing up five or six bucks to see one of her porno films.
"Aren't you finished yet?" Jack asked, breaking the silence and making his presence known. "Shit, you're the slowest fucking reader I've ever run into in my life-I swear to Christ."
"Shhh!" Viorica hissed impatiently, never taking her eyes off the page for an instant. "At least I don't read with my lips," she added, moving them in a way that made Jack's prick ache for another blow job like the one she'd given it only minutes previously. She folded her arms and put the top page behind the rest, and continued reading ... her arm dropped to her side, and Jack could see her breast. It was magnificent, pear-shaped, as large as Erica's but noticeably firmer, like Gayle's-the best of both worlds. Jack preferred women with big tits-regular melons, if possible, like the set on Erica ... but, sometimes a man had to make sacrifices to get what he wanted out of life. Gayle's boyish bosom was Jack's sexual sacrifice.
He climbed onto the rumpled bed, toward Viorica. "Jesus, you are slow!"
"Please ... I'm trying to concentrate. We never have this many lines in porno films!"
Jack looked at her a moment longer, waiting for her to turn to the next page of Gayle's script. He was intrigued by the scarlet-haired pussy bristling between Viorica's closed thighs. He got down low on the mattress, trying to see if he could get a look at her cunt lips. He couldn't; the angle was wrong. He began to crawl toward his new co-star, on his hands and knees, moving very slowly, trying not to make the mattress creak. He got all the way up to her thighs and peeked under her knees ... then, very quickly, he shot his hand forward and tried to jam his fingers up her cunt.
"Jack!" Viorica's legs snapped down savagely, trapping his arm. "Cut it the fuck out!"
"I want to fuck!" he told her petulantly.
"I'm busy."
"I want to eat your hot pussy again...."
"How vulgar. Besides, we just did fuck. Aren't you satisfied yet? I'm still exhausted."
"I want to fuck you!"
Viorica laughed, shaking her head. "All right...." When he reached out for her, she put the script aside and let him grab her, pull her down on top of him, and kiss her wetly on her open mouth. He pushed his tongue all the way inside, and Viorica pushed back with lewd eagerness. Jack sucked on her tongue, rolling his lips softly against hers. He held her naked shoulders in his hands, squeezing those fabulous breasts against his chest.
"Jack-oh, Jack-"
"Shush," he whispered. "Don't talk!"
He pushed her back, and she moved into fucking position immediately, as though it were a purely instinctual reaction. Maybe it was, by now. Jack slid on top of her, sealing their mouths together again in a long, probing kiss. He rubbed his body sensuously against her nakedness, feeling a stirring in his cock. He stroked her back, lower and lower until he was gripping her ass in his fingers. He squeezed the lush cheeks, pushing her cunt closer in against his crotch, his stiffening prick thrusting between her thighs.
He humped against her slit until his dick was erect and pulsating with lust again. Viorica felt its hot wet tip nudging against her upper thigh, and she parted her legs, reaching down to insert Jack's hard-on between them at the proper angle. He pressed in and humped wildly, driving his cock in and out but never actually penetrating her pussy, squeezing and kneading the cheeks of her ass, feeling the warm moist lips of her cunt rubbing up and down over his head and shaft. He humped her for some time, kissing her deeply with his tongue, until he felt the wetness oozing out of her slit ... it spread down around his tool like a warm mist, lubricating him completely.
Jack moved his hand between Viorica's thighs, cupping the hairy mound between his fingers. He could feel his prick sliding back and forth, wetting his hand. He parted the lips of her pussy and began to masturbate her.
"Oh, that's good...." Viorica whispered, her eyes closed, a look of sheer eroticism suffusing her face. She clamped her strong thighs tightly around the driving shaft of Jack's cock, grinding her clitoris against his massaging fingertips. "Oh God, Jack-that's so fucking good! You really know how to play with a girl's clit!"
He made it feel even better for her, pushing his hand deeper into the damp cleft of her cunt, sliding a finger deep inside the dripping hole. She was sweltering inside, and Jack moved his finger around in a full, wide exploratory circle, scraping his fingernail erotically against the sweating walls of the vaginal canal that convulsed in response to the pressure. Viorica began to moan and squirm, and Jack put a second finger into her, inside the first, pushing both digits in and out roughly, fucking her with them.
"Oooooh shit!" Viorica moaned, reaching down between her open thighs to grasp his cock. She jerked it off slowly, rubbing the tender cockhead between her fingers. "Christ, I'm so hot. You-you're driving me wild!"
He decided to drive her even wilder, to see if she was as abandoned in real life as she was in her films. He slid down on the mattress and began licking her breasts. He j erked his fingers in and out of her spasming cunt, never letting up on the pace, and he sucked and chewed on her nipples, moving his mouth quickly from one to the other and then back again ... Viorica groaned softly, thrashing her head against the pillows, her red head strewn over the white pillowcases like flames. Jack moved lower, licking all over her breasts and belly until he was running the wet tip of his tongue up and down in the sensitive crease between her thighs and her cunt. He was kneeling over her now, his hand plunging in and out of her creaming cunt, and he had her juices smeared over his knuckles and running stickily down his wrist and forearm.
He began to lick her cunt lips, climbing between her thighs. Viorica raised them to accommodate him, pulling her legs open and back with her trembling hands, tilting her cunt up toward Jack's mouth as though offering him a brimming bowl. He plunged his tongue into it, licking the syrup out of her slit, out of the finger-stretched and stuffed aperture of her cunt, drooling the mixture of saliva and pussy oil onto her throbbingly extended clitoris that stood out like a bruised and swelling thumb....
He slid down flat between her thighs, his erection throbbing against the cool sheets, and began twisting his fingers around inside of her as he tongued her stiffening clit, moving his hand from right to left, then back again, screwing it up into her slowly ... pleasure tore through Viorica's body in strong, breaking waves, and she began humping her cunt up hard against his fingers and tongue.
"Fist-fuck me, Jack!" she cried. "Shove your whole hand right up my cunt and fuck me with it! All the way to the elbow, darling! Fuck me with it-just as though it were the biggest, thickest, hardest cock in the world!"
Jack nearly freaked out listening to her ... unlike thousands of other men, he'd never seen It Fits Like a Glove, Viorica's infamous sixteen-millimeter porno "loop", available by mail order, in which she did indeed take the muscular forearm of a young black bodybuilder all the way to the massive biceps. Jack could only decide to eat her out instead. He eased his fingers from her pussy, slid both hands under the cheeks of her ass, lifted her body and pulled her cunt against his mouth, his tongue flicking across the tip of her clitoris, teasing it until he could feel it vibrating helplessly against him. Viorica slung her legs up over his shoulders, arching her back, and Jack moved his wet, cunt-moistened fingers into the crack of her ass. He felt her stiffen with pleasure as he toyed with her anus, and a soft, wet-sounding moan burst from her throat when he pushed his middle finger up her asshole. The muscles there clamped down hard, and her cunt bucked wildly against his devouring mouth. Jack pushed the finger in and out, stretching the mouth of her anus, all the while lashing her clit with short hot strokes from his tongue.
"Christ! I'm going to ... come!" Viorica cried, holding Jack's head in place down between her upraised and flailing thighs. His tongue licked her clitoris furiously, until he almost thought he could feel it coming loose from her body and flying right into his mouth, the hooded folds of her cunt lips retreating far back on either side of her mouth as he sucked and kissed hard. His finger in her ass sawed in and out in the same rhythm, and he had it jammed all the way up, right down to the third knuckle on his hand ... he could feel the tight, well-trained walls of Viorica's rectum grinding themselves lewdly around the invading finger, enjoying the pressure and friction.
Twisting his hand up-the same hand the middle finger of which was buried in her asshole-Jack pushed the ball of his thumb between the lips of Viorica's pussy, inserting it as far as it would reach into the wet, spasming opening. He could feel the ridges of his thumb with his tongue each time he slid it down off her clitoris ... Viorica was covered, all of her bases filled, every part of her sex-sensitive organs attended to at once. It was enough to turn even a frigid woman on-and Viorica Urban was by no means frigid. She was as hot as the proverbial pistol-and Jack had just found and squeezed her trigger!
Viorica stiffened all over. "I'm coming!" she screamed exultantly, arching her back still higher. Jack pushed in deeper and deeper into her two lower orifices, with finger and thumb and tongue, until he could feel his thumb and middle finger rubbing against each other inside her body, each in its own sheath of flesh, with only a thin membrane between them ... he ground his lips and tongue against her exploding clitoris, sucking hard, using his upper teeth for leverage on it, almost bruising Viorica's love bud with the hard wet slaps of intense oral stimulation. She screamed again. "I'm coming!" she cried in wild, horny triumph. "I'm coming! I'm coming, you fuckers! Coming!"
Jack let her enjoy her orgasm for a few seconds longer, but then, when her climax had reached its visible peak, he climbed on top of her and began to fuck her, his prick sinking into the oozing, straining flesh of her cunt like a heated knife going through a stick of butter, effortlessly, until Viorica's pussy had swallowed it completely and closed around it with an almost vicious hunger and force, squeezing, milking, fucking right back against his horny thrusts into her. The suddenness of the penetration sent helpless spasms of lust through both their bodies and Viorica began to come again, repeatedly.
A few thrusts later and it was all over-Jack started to ejaculate, his third time in the last hour or so. His pleasure in coming was exquisitely intense, even if it was comparatively short in duration. He could feel his overworked and protesting cock pulsing wildly inside the crushing heat of her cunt, squirting out a last thin, jet-like stream of fresh potent sperm.
Then, after it was over and they lay together panting on the mattress, Viorica turned to him, smiling blissfully.
"Darling," she laughed, "your talents are wasted in TV ... you ought to be in pictures! Dirty pictures!"
"Yeah," Jack gasped. But he doubted he could handle a career as a porno stud. He'd rarely felt so drained after a bout of lovemaking. His prick was limp ... it might never recover from the abuse they'd just inflicted on it! No, Viorica was simply too much for any man to satisfy. Jack groaned at the thought of having to make love to Gayle, and possibly to Erica as well, that very night or the next day, if he could put it off until then ... his sex life was suddenly becoming very complicated indeed!
CHAPTER EIGHT
The offices of Inside Daytime Television magazine were anything but luxurious: in striking contrast to the glamorous major-network world that the magazine so gushily exposed and exploited, its headquarters were in a decaying building on Forty-Third Street just off Times Square, and consisted of several large rooms subdivided into grubby cubicles by flimsy partitions. In one of these pigeonholes sat Jeremy Holland, twenty-six, an aspiring big-time journalist. After a year of searching the upper echelons of the news media for nonexistent openings, he had disdainfully but desperately accepted a reporting and writing job with Inside Daytime TV-a monthly gossip sheet, quickly thrown together and cheaply printed, that supposedly told all about the behind-the-scenes action of daytime television. It fed the insatiable hunger of the soap opera fans for information, factual or otherwise, about the actors they welcomed into their living rooms via the tube every weekday afternoon. Jeremy hated the magazine, hated the job, and wrote his interviews with the popular actors under a pseudonym.
He was certain that his big break would come someday, and late one afternoon he got an assignment that at least aroused his curiosity-to interview Viorica Urban, the porno actress who had become notorious by appearing on The Heart Has Secrets, the serial produced by a woman, Erica Selwyn, who was rumored in the industry to be almost as much of a swinger as Viorica, although on a more modest, discreet scale to be sure.
Viorica was late by half an hour. She breezed into Erica's office, which the publicity-hungry producer had generously let them use for the interview, tossing her mane of red hair over her shoulders as she held out her hand to the attractive young reporter. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she purred. "You must be Mr. Holland."
"Please call me Jeremy ... the only 'Mr. Holland' I know is my father."
Viorica smiled with the nonchalance suitable for the role she was playing in the show and turned to Erica, who was sitting behind her desk. "Erica, you don't mind us staying here for the interview?"
"Of course not. I'm done for the day. Would you like me to get lost?"
"God, no. You're going to have to play censor. When they interview me for my fuck films, I say anything that comes into my head ... I'm not sure what kind of 'image' you want me to project." She flashed Jeremy a warm smile as he sat down with a small tape recorder in his lap.
"Don't mind this," he told the two women. "We'll just switch it on and forget it's here." He placed the cassette machine on the couch between him and Viorica and held the microphone up toward her. "Shall we begin?"
"Sure ... you're going to have to tell me what kinds of things interest your readers."
"They're not my readers, Ms. Urban-they're Inside Daytime TV readers. Let's get that straight. Our readers are your average housewives who watch the soaps every day and naturally want to know about the private lives of the stars."
"Am I a star on TV-as opposed to the wide open screen-already?" Viorica joked good-naturedly. "Without even taking my clothes off in front of the camera once? Erica, here, won't let me ... I think the prudishness of the networks is ridiculous. Why, out in San Francisco they have a pornographic soap opera where it shows people doing everything, and another, cable station shows blue movies at night. Shit, Erica, if you'd have told me I was going to be a star without having to fuck on camera, I would've asked for more money."
"Anybody who appears on television more than once is a star nowadays," Erica commented drily.
"Do you think I'm a star?" Viorica asked Jeremy seductively, leaning toward him.
"I think you're one of the most dazzling stars I've ever interviewed for my magazine."
"Aren't you nice. But how many have you interviewed so far? Have you been working for this housewives' rag of yours long?"
"About a year and a half-which is about eighteen months too long."
"Why? Don't you find us soap-opera stars exciting to interview?"
"Frankly, I find most of them boring as hell!" Jeremy laughed.
"Too bad, darling. In that case, I'll have to see what I can do about making this interview different ... more interesting ... give you a scoop of some sort. What are you dying to ask me about my sex life but don't have the nerve to?"
"Hey, wait a minute," Jeremy laughed nervously, "this is a women's magazine, you know. We have to keep it clean."
"Oh, bullshit. All women like to read about sex-don't they, Erica?"
Erica laughed. "All the ones I know do. Myself included."
"Do you want to know whether it's true that I've balled animals in porno loops?" Viorica suggested helpfully.
Erica felt obligated to intervene: "Easy, Viorica...."
"Well, I have," the porno actress admitted impulsively. "Dogs, mostly. But I didn't come, so it was just a lot of hard work-no fun at all, really."
Jeremy flushed, then smirked. "Personally, I'd love to hear the details, but I could never publish them...."
"All that is off the record, Jeremy," Erica said in her most severe, no-nonsense voice.
"Why?" Viorica demanded innocently. "It happened to me, didn't it? You can buy the loops right here in New York City for fifteen bucks. Oh, well. Hey, you know what happened to me just the other day? This you can print. It blew my fucking mind! I was out walking, on my way to the studio, see, so I cut through this little park ... and all of a sudden this rich bitch hag type, Bloomingdale's shopping bag, sensible shoes, real pearls-the whole bit-comes charging up to me huffing and puffing, and screams in my face, 'Darlene! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Going after Jessica's boyfriend like that! The poor girl is going blind, do you hear me, and here you are making her life even more miserable by trying to take Richard away from her! You ought to be ashamed of yourself-you're nothing but a cheap slut!' She was so freaked out on our fucking show, she thought it was for real!"
Jeremy and Erica both roared with laughter. "A lot of them are like that," Jeremy pointed out.
"What did you do? Run for your life?"
"Yes ... only she followed me and kept pestering me all the way through the park, so finally I told her, 'Fuck off, you crazy old cunt! I'll screw Jessica's precious Richard until his prick falls off if I want to-so there!'"
Erica almost fell out of her chair laughing now.
"Great story, but I won't be able to print that, either, unless I clean it up," Jeremy sighed. "Still, this is getting interesting, I must admit." .
"It's also getting hot in here," Viorica declared.
"Yes...." Jeremy unbuttoned a few shirt buttons. "Isn't there any air conditioning in here?"
"It's being repaired." Erica quickly checked out the flash of hairy chest that Jeremy was so casually displaying. "I've got an idea. It's much cooler in the studio and it'll be empty by now. Why don't we all go down there to finish this nonsense, Jeremy?"
"Great idea, I've got some wild dope if you two want some," Viorica said at once.
"Good God!" Erica exclaimed, throwing up her hands in despair.
Jeremy hit the buttons of his tape recorder, grinning at her. "I'll erase that last statement, if you're really worried. I never know who might hear these tapes once I get them back to the office."
Viorica jumped up playfully. "Oh, crap! Do you really think Erica and her network would let their latest star get busted? Not on your sweet ass! Come on!" She swung her purse like a streetwalker trying to drum up some trade as she led the way to the door and down the hall.
Jack and Gayle were just getting into the elevator, and held it for the newcomers. Erica introduced Jeremy. "Why don't you two come along? Viorica has been breaking us up, saying the wildest-and, unfortunately for Jeremy, here-the most unprintable things. Then we can all go out for a drink later, before you two married people head home."
"Great idea," Jack said, and Gayle agreed, too.
The studio turned out to be refreshingly dark and cool, and was deserted, looking as vast and echoey as an empty airplane hanger. The work lights had been extinguished long before. "Look!" Viorica exclaimed gleefully as she led the way through the door. "We have the whole dump to ourselves."
Jeremy peered into the gloom. "Little dark, isn't it?"
"I'll find a light switch-" Jack started searching the wall near the door, but Viorica stopped him.
"Who needs light when you have a blazing star in your midst?" she intoned grandly. "Follow me, fans."
Blazing cunt is more like it, Jack thought, remembering Viorica's vivid titian pussy hair.
Half-groping, hanging onto each other's sleeves, the five people headed toward a series of dim shapes that loomed ahead of them and that Jack and Viorica knew must be the sets they'd performed on only a couple of hours earlier. Jeremy felt an arm touch his waist, the fingers running lightly over the skin under his shirt; when he reached out to grab whoever it was, Viorica threw herself into his arms, squirmed heatedly against him for a fleeting moment, then pushed him back and moved ahead again.
"Where are we?" Jeremy asked, to cover up the action in the darkness.
"Right in the middle of Jessica's fucking aunt's apartment," Viorica explained. "And beside it's the bedroom ... how thoughtful of the crew to have left it all here just for us to use."
"Jesus, it's darker than some pickup bars I've been in lately," Erica grumbled, stumbling.
Viorica had flicked on her cigarette lighter, and was lighting the candles in an ornate silver candelabra on the buffet of the set. Soon their half of the "living room" was bathed in a warm glow of flickering light. "There, that makes it halfway livable." Viorica sank into an easy chair and threw her shapely legs high up onto an ottoman. "I could even get used to living like this ... I've got to hand it to you, Erica, you've got good taste."
"Yeah, this was all a sleazy mess when I started working on the show," Jack agreed. "Erica replaced it from the ground up."
"She had to, to give you a setting worthy of your talents, dear," Gayle joked.
"Mmmmm ... if that's the case, we'd better go into the bedroom set," Viorica said. Gayle shot her a puzzled look. Jack and Erica both looked suddenly, if momentarily, ill at ease.
"Sounds like I better start my recorder running about now," Jeremy laughed, switching it on and setting it on the coffee table. "Two interviews for the price of one-not a bad deal," he said, smiling at Jack.
"Oh, I think Viorica should have the limelight-she's the one who's new to the show," Jack said.
Viorica was digging around in her purse. "Oh, I'm bored with interviews, anyway. Who gives a fuck what people know or think about me? I know who I am-a completely sexual woman-and that's enough." She took out two neatly rolled joints and lit up, inhaling deeply and gratefully before passing one to Jeremy, who had positioned himself next to her on the set's overstuffed couch. Gayle and Jack immediately got to work on the second joint, being old hands at this.
Jeremy, too, pulled a long toke before staring Viorica in the eyes, which sparkled in the candlelight. "And just how would you define 'completely sexual,' as opposed to 'incompletely'-which is what I assume you think the rest of us are?"
Viorica smiled. "I come every time I get screwed-if the guy has any finesse at all," she boasted. "How many women have you balled who never had to fake it-not once?"
"Pass," Erica admitted wryly. "Of course, it's true that in my case some of them had no finesse at all."
"Don't look at me," Gayle laughed. "I'm pleading the Fifth Amendment. I never fake with Jack, though. I don't have to ... neither of us is hung up on orgasm. If I come, great; if not, it's no big deal. Sex ought to be so satisfying to the woman that she enjoys it whether she sees stars or not."
Viorica had squirmed around and placed her head in Jeremy's lap, looking up at the reporter seductively as she took a lungful of smoke, then pressed the joint between his lips and held it for him as he inhaled. He lowered his arm so it fell across her midriff, just under her full breasts, and stayed there, as he held the joint out in Erica's direction.
Erica observed the blatant seduction attempt with an amused half-smile. "Nice way to conduct an interview, eh, Jeremy?"
"Oh, fuck the interview! I'm sure Jeremy can invent something to print that'll be more of a turn-on than anything I could tell them that hasn't been written about me before. Right?" Viorica ran her fingertip along Jeremy's lower lip.
"I'm not so sure of that any more." Jeremy slid his hand up under her blouse.
"You two known each other long?" Jack was feeling a little jealous.
"About ten minutes," Viorica answered honestly. "Long enough. Hey, everybody-you know what I've been dying to do ever since I started working on this damn soap opera of yours? Fuck somebody, right here on the set!"
"With the cameras on?" Jeremy asked, massaging her breasts under her blouse.
"Uh, yeah ... I've gotten to the point where I didn't even know they're there, though, so I guess it wouldn't matter. Since we don't have the crew around, let's do the next best thing. Come on, I'll play the director and you can all be stars in my sex opera ... only thing is, you have to do everything I say!" Viorica disentangled herself from the magazine reporter and jumped off the couch. "All right, all of you, up on your feet! We have a show to get on the air and damn little time!" She imitated Heart's real director perfectly, and Erica had to laugh. She and Jeremy were the first to play along, rising and standing in front of Viorica, both fascinated to the cores of their libidos. Viorica barked her next command: "You, grab the lights!"
Jack picked up the candelabra he was seated closest to. Viorica turned to Gayle. "Now you, get your ass into the bedroom set!" Confused, but willing to go along with the gag, Gayle got up and turned toward the darkened portion of the set, feeling quite high already from the potent pot Viorica had shared with them. "Jack, lead the way...."
With Jack holding the candles up, all five of them moved into the elegantly wood-paneled bedroom set, dwarfed by the massive, empty sound stage that surrounded it on all sides. Most of the space was taken up by a large brass-framed bed.
"Turn down the covers and put the candles on the nightstand!" They obeyed Viorica's instructions unquestioningly and stood at attention, giggling, when the task was accomplished.
"All right, you goldbrickers ... everybody strip for action!"
Erica and Gayle looked at each other hesitantly. So did the two men.
Erica broke the embarrassed silence. "But what if somebody comes in?!"
Viorica exploded in a burst of mock temperament, "I'm the fucking director! You do as I say! And you're the fucking producer-if anybody comes in, either invite them to join the party, if they're hip, or threaten to can their ass, if they're square! No one's around ... and we could always blow out the candles, so they couldn't see who was doing what to who up where. Now strip!"
Erica couldn't help herself. The idea of the impulsive orgy excited her. Jack and Gayle, both of whom she'd had sex with separately-Viorica, whom she'd desired all this time-and humpy Jeremy, a virtual stranger, but one who looked like a promising lay. Erica groped for the buttons of her blouse, staring directly into Gayle's eyes and smiling reassuring at her, nodding, silently telling her to go ahead, do it! Jeremy followed suit. Jack was surprisingly inhibited, but finally removed his shirt and stopped to pull off his shoes and socks, then finished undressing Gayle. Jeremy glanced over at Erica, whose breasts came into unobstructed view, silhouetted by the candlelight.
Her breasts were magnificent, large with big brownish-red nipples, and even though they sagged a little, they turned him on-as did Gayle's seductive slimmer body and modest behavior as she tried to shield her tits and pussy with arms crossed in front of her torso, until her naked husband embraced and kissed her to get her into the mood for the orgy.
Viorica took the candelabra from the small table and sauntered arrogantly around the group, studying their nudity. "Well, if you aren't the sorriest excuses for porno actors I've ever seen!" she teased. Sighing dramatically, she set the candles back down. "Well, you'll just have to do ... this show has to get on." She held out her arms, offering her fully clothed body to them. "All right-undress your director! Strip her for action!"
Jack and Jeremy were upon her immediately, copping feel after feel as they fumbled with the fastenings of the actress' clothes; but, to Gayle's surprise, Erica didn't need to be invited, either, but seemed positively eager to undress the voluptuous redhead ... recalling her own surrender to Erica's lesbian embrace, Gayle blushed furiously-all over. Her friends stepped back to admire their handiwork. Viorica was, needless to say, not at all shy about displaying her magnificent body. She paraded in a wide arc in front of the group, her full breasts swinging, the triangle of red hair glistening between her legs, her ass sculpted generously in firm, sleek flesh.
Erica spoke enviously: "Well, at least we know now that our 'director' is a natural redhead-God, what a gorgeous bush you've got!"
"And God, would I love to get into it!" Jeremy laughed, but the hard-on jutting out from his groin belied his attempt to sound nonchalant.
"Don't speak unless spoken to! On your knees!" Viorica cried. They hesitated again. "Do as I say!"
Jack started to get down on his knees. The rest followed, grateful for the thick Persian rug covering the concrete studio floor. Viorica pushed Jack away when he tried to touch her legs. "No! Now crawl, all of you-crawl, like the horny animals, the dogs you are!"
Jeremy started circling her feet in an imitation of an excited Saint Bernard. Erica's performance was more like a small, well-bred, but neurotic French poodle: she followed the wiggling bare ass of the young reporter, her own naked body extraordinarily sensuous as it moved in the candlelight. Jack and Gayle were stoned and having difficulty keeping themselves from laughing as they did doggy imitations of their own, writhing and rolling about on the rug.
"And now bark!" Viorica snatched Jack's discarded belt off the bed where he had thrown it, and started to whip them on their backs and buttocks! They scrambled back and forth in front of her, barking and howling like unhappy canines. But their howls quickly turned to helpless, breathless laughter, interspersed with occasional protests when Viorica landed a hard blow either , accidentally or by intent:
"Bitch!"
"Cunt!"
"Hey, watch the fucking balls, willya?!"
"Owwwww!!!"
Viorica started laughing so hard she fell onto the bed. "This is idiotic!" She rolled over and looked down at the four naked people on the floor, then reached out and pulled Jeremy toward her by his erect male organ. He stood beside the bed, his cock jutting out over her smiling face. Viorica teasingly extended her pink tongue and licked up and down the shaft of the long hard prick, then turned her head to smile at Erica. "Come on up here, Producer, and let's just improvise it ... 'do what comes unnaturally,' as they always tell me on my porno sets. I want to ball!"
Erica crawled onto the bed and buried her face in Viorica's pussy as Viorica wrapped her legs around Jack's head. The redheaded actress draped her long silky hair over the end of Jeremy's projecting cock and raised her mouth to its head, enveloping it in her lips. Gayle hesitated only a moment before joining the pile, seizing Jeremy's hand and guiding it to her breasts while her husband groped blindly for her cunt and she imitated Viorica by giving Jack a thorough blow job.
If, at that moment, some unsuspecting technician had taken a short cut to the outside street on his way home, he would have been privileged to witness-if not, indeed, to participate in!-the most unusual performance ever played out in that studio. There in the dimness of the huge empty space, a studio that had given birth to some of the network's finest soap opera episodes under Erica Selwyn's aggressive, uncompromising supervision, five naked, writhing bodies, two male and three female, all of them glowing in the sweat of their sex in the light of the glittering candles, cavorted in an acrobatic display of total, unabashed erotic abandon.
Viorica was still "directing" the orgy, taking almost as much interest in getting the others into various positions and combinations as in satisfying her own lustful urges. She broke away from Jack and Erica, both of whom were fighting to be the first to go down on her and lick her cunt, and concentrated on Jeremy for a moment. He was on his knees on the edge of the mattress in front of her, his big dick sticking out, while she played with the swollen head of it and caressed its shaft and the two heavy balls below it. Then she began sucking him again, moving her head up and down on his cock, and the others could tell by the contented, excited expression on his face that she was giving him a very good time with that talented and much-publicized mouth and throat of hers. Now and then, Viorica would twist her head slightly sideways and glance at the rest of the group, a twinkle in her eyes challenging them to demonstrate sexual freedom and imagination equal to hers, or surpassing it if they could.
It wasn't easy for Jack to disengage his swollen penis from Gayle's eagerly sucking mouth, but he gently pulled her wet, clasping lips off his shaft ... after staring at it wistfully for a few seconds, she relaxed and let Erica's agile tongue in her cunt occupy her complete, undivided attention. Jack began to hear loud moaning noises from deep within his lovely wife's throat as Erica ate her pussy, satisfying her completely, it seemed.
Gayle came quickly, shouting and thrashing, and then, as though to prove that she could take care of both husband and wife, Erica rolled away from her and toward Jack's corner of the huge bed. They eased themselves into a sixty-nine position and Jack teased Erica's clit with his tongue until they were both more than ready to fuck, they were frantic to get it on together. Jack lay back against the pillows at the head of the brass bed and Erica climbed over his cock and, cooing with pleasure and grass, lowered herself down upon it, impaling her pussy on it to the hilt. Jack put his hands under her ass and moved her body up and down on his, at the same time using one finger to tickle her anus on the downward strokes-the same technique that had been so effective with Viorica-regulating the speed of their stoned lovemaking to suit them both and to prolong it for as long as possible. Suddenly, Erica began having what seemed like an endless series of fierce, spontaneous orgasms, and rubbed her body all over Jack's, kissing his chest and sucking on his nipples as her cunt creamed around his pounding cock. He held her close to his body until she finally stopped shaking and quivering, and then, giving him a big wet kiss on the mouth, Erica pulled herself off his prick and moved on to further delights. This was going to be a truly marathon group fuck, with no waiting between partners.
At the moment, Viorica was between Jeremy's legs, getting his cock into her cunt and humping away against him like mad. Erica took Gayle into her arms and began kissing her on the face and neck and breasts, at the same time caressing her shoulders and lower back and buttocks. Then she eased Gayle back onto the mattress. Jack had never seen one woman make love to another, except in the kind of films Viorica specialized in, and even there he'd suspected the lesbian activity was mostly faked for the camera. So he was surprised by how intent Erica, who'd just been fucking him, seemed on turning Gayle on ... to say nothing of how readily his wife responded to Erica's advances!
Erica began to devour Gayle's luscious vagina. Jack didn't want his wife to turn into some sort of lesbian, sq he decided that instead of just sitting there watching like an idiot, he'd better get into the act somehow and remind the two women that a male could turn them on, too. He pulled the top of Gayle's writhing body closer to his own midsection and, bending over her face, put his prick against her lips. She accepted it eagerly, sucking it deep into her mouth and using her tongue all over it until it was hard and pulsing with lust.
Just then, Viorica and Jeremy finished screwing each other, broke apart, and re-joined the party ... seeing that Erica's cunt was unoccupied, Jeremy, even though he'd evidently come inside Viorica, knelt behind her and drove his cock up into her from behind and below as she sucked Gayle's pussy nonstop, only grunting to acknowledge the use he was making of her body.
Of course, Viorica wasn't going to be left out for long. She thrust herself in between Erica and Gayle and began fondling and licking everything she could reach with her hands or her mouth ... it was a crazy scene, with her frantic but expert mouth going from Gayle's cunt to Erica's cunt to Jeremy's cock plunging in and out of Erica's cunt in seconds, making the rounds again and again without so much as a pause for breath ... and Gayle blowing Jack like a pro, a second Viorica, so to speak ... all of them moaning and screaming in ecstasy as they humped together in a heap of shuddering, sweaty, lust-driven limbs.
Jack pulled out of Gayle's mouth, clambered forward on the over-weighted mattress, and raised Viorica's behind up in the air. He then did what Jeremy was doing to Erica right next to them-he entered Viorica doggy-style.
"No, in my ass, in my ass!" the sensual redhead moaned between licks. Jack didn't hesitate. He withdrew from her vagina and aimed his dripping cock between her buttocks. It penetrated her sphincter muscle and sank into her to the balls, filling her carefully relaxed anus completely. Viorica went wild. She loved getting screwed in the back door, she always claimed, and she certainly verified it now. Jack started to fuck her anally with very even, firm strokes, until, suddenly, he felt something very exciting happening to his balls ... looking over his shoulder, he saw that Gayle was skillfully toying with his nuts, holding them in her fingertips and rolling them around, tickling them lightly with her fingernails ... and then, really surprised, Jack felt the cheeks of his behind being spread wide apart. First a tongue and then a finger pushed inside his asshole ... Erica had relinquished Gayle's cunt and was rimming and finger-fucking him! Jesus, what they didn't learn on the set of the soap opera now that Viorica had joined the cast!
While Jack was screwing her up the ass, Viorica began to blow Jeremy in a way entirely new to all of them. As soon as Jeremy withdrew from Erica's vagina, his cock still stiff and smeared with a rich mixture of his semen and Erica's secretions, Viorica grasped him and urged him to roll over onto his back with his crotch turned toward her face. She took his legs and put his thighs over her shoulders, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under Jeremy's buttocks to raise them. Then, starting like Erica was on Jack at the rectum, Viorica began to rim Jeremy's asshole and lick her way from the cleft between his ass cheeks up toward his balls and then his prick ... when her mouth reached his soiled cock, she took only the head of it between her lips, but her tongue did fantastic things to the tip of the piss-slit. "Great! Don't stop!" was all that Jeremy had time to gasp out before Gayle sat on his face and ordered him to eat her pussy while Viorica blew him and Jack ass-fucked Viorica and Erica -rimmed Jack....
"Jesus Christ!" Jack panted. "I'm going to come if this shit keeps up!"
"Do it, darling, shoot!" Gayle shrieked at him ecstatically as she rode Jeremy's head and felt his tongue stab up into her cunt again and again. "Come! Come! Come up her ass! Let's all come together! God, I'm so stoned! So high! So hot! So fucking horny! God, do I ever want to fuck and suck! I want to fuck and suck until I drop! I want to come to death if I have to! I want to just come and come-and watch all you come, too! Shit yes! Let's all do it together!"
It was bizarre-husband and wife faced each other, each having sex with other people, not touching although their bodies were only inches away from each other. Jack decided to remedy that. He broke away from Erica and pulled his prick out of Viorica's ass. Gayle slid off of Jeremy's face, leaving his panting, slavering mouth smeared with her cunt juices, and she and Jack moved with almost startling speed and grace into the most sensational fuck of their married lives, as their three horny friends quickly re-grouped and started screwing away. Oblivious to them, oblivious to the world at large, oblivious to everything other than their own two wildly aroused bodies, Jack and Gayle started to ball. They fucked and fucked, and when they started to tire, they only rallied themselves and each other and fucked some more.
Gayle was on top of him, riding his cock brazenly, whorishly, as she'd never ridden it before-not even in the privacy of their bedroom. Jack was under her, driving up into her twat in a glorious flat-out rhythm he had never sustained like this before. He was holding her breasts in a vise-like grip-he was pinching her nipples between his fingernails-he was stroking her clitoris as he pumped his piston-like prick into her willing, ferociously responsive body again and again, relentlessly but adoringly, worshipping her cunt, her womanhood.
The closer he got to climaxing, the higher he rose off the crowded bed, lifting Gayle bodily along with his thrusts. His cock plunged into her pussy, never really hurting her but never failing to probe to the innermost spot of her responsiveness and turn her on wildly, hysterically. Deeper and deeper, higher and higher-now they realized how grass could heighten everything, yet prolong one's sense of time so that each and every sensation lingered on deliciously-it seemed as though they would be fucking until the end of time, and that when and if they did come together, the world would have to come to its end as well. There'd be nothing left to give a flying fuck about!
Suddenly, the sperm was boiling up inside Jack's balls and cockshaft, and he experienced the beginnings of an ejaculation that seemed to build and build, never ebbing in intensity, until he wasn't sure he could stand the sweet torture any longer. But-despite the spermatic tidal wave of sensation that had overtaken him-he opened his eyes, because he could hear Gayle screaming her head off with excitement, and it seemed that every time his cock rammed up into her, her cries grew shriller, louder, more abandoned, and her eyes went out of focus and overflowed with tears of joy. And then they both came-together-in a convulsive, never-ending wave of sensations. They'd done it-they'd blown the world off course so that their simultaneous orgasms could go on forever and ever ...!
If Jack ever felt a part of the universe and not just another dumb clutz trying to survive from day to day, it was during that orgasm which took over his entire central nervous system and put it first on "Hold" and then on "Tremble" and "Come!" for what had to have been a good five minutes. He and Gayle didn't stop shuddering and panting and crying for three times that long afterward, and when they finally both returned to a state of reasonably normal consciousness, they realized at once that they'd gone through a very profound and truthful sex trip together. Suddenly, his blatant and repeated infidelity and her lesbian experimentation with Erica, and their constant worrying over who was supporting whom, no longer mattered and was already forgotten. They'd lived a small lifetime in those precious twenty minutes or so of furious screwing, or however long it had actually taken them to travel the whole universe together.
They continued to ignore their three feverishly fucking friends for the time being and just rested in each other's arms. Gayle's head was resting in Jack's lap, on his abdomen, and as she bent down to take his balls into her mouth again and treat them like a pair of delicious, savory meatballs that were to be simmered in her saliva but not swallowed, she moved her body around so that her cunt was next to Jack's face. He began to nibble at it as though he'd never gone down on her before in his life, treating her pussy like a new delicacy offered to him by a chef, rediscovering his wife's body part by part, kiss by kiss, lick by lick.
Then their lustful feelings took over the situation again, and Jack found himself eating Gayle out as never before, his tongue flickering around her rigid clitoris and plunging deep into her juicy, overflowing vagina, that tasted excitingly of his own semen just pumped into it. And Gayle was blowing him passionately, his cockhead sliding in and out of her open throat, her whole body shuddering and heaving with lust.
Then it was time-they didn't have to talk about it; they knew, instinctively-to resume balling, and now it was more varied, more knowing of each other, and yet equally intense. Jack and Gayle screwed away without stopping for what seemed like half an hour, yet despite the marijuana having worn off a bit, all of the excitement and perversity of this impromptu orgy welled up within both their bodies anew, and Gayle climaxed twice around Jack's cock before he burst in a shower of hot searing come inside her for a second time ... and, once again, she screamed hysterically as she came and he ejaculated in her body, filling her with his lust-his love.
When they both came back to their senses they were surrounded by Erica, Jeremy, and Viorica, everyone turned on and as uninhibited as hell once again, and the bed rocked and quaked again under a pile of interlocked bodies.
This time it was Viorica's turn to take on any and all comers. Jeremy plugged her asshole while Jack managed to get up enough of an erection, even after all his heroic exertions with his wife, to throw yet another fuck into the redhead's ever-open cunt. Gayle sat on Viorica's face at the actress' express invitation, and Viorica tongued her twat clean of Jack's come and Gayle's own spurted-out fluids, making Gayle climax again. Erica, too freaked out by all the wild sex she'd already engaged in, finally had to admit that she'd been topped-that Viorica made her look like a frigid nun! She sat this one out, frigging herself languidly with one hand from time to time as she watched and shouted encouragements, caressing various bodies with her other hand to spur them on.
Viorica was in her glory, only regretting that it all wasn't being taken down on videotape and preserved for an awestruck posterity. Gayle was rubbing her hot wet pussy all over her face, coming like crazy ... and then Viorica was seated astride Jeremy's cock ... and then she was kneeling down, blowing Jack in an ultimately futile effort to revive his depleted prick, which was finished for that night, at least, despite her valiant oral exertions ... and then Jermy was fucking her up the ass again, while she went down on an exhausted, protesting, but unable-to-resist Erica ... Jack and Gayle finally got dressed and wandered out of the studio together. Each time they turned around, though, Viorica looked and sounded as though she'd come another couple of times, which was quite possible. Her passionate cries resounded throughout the huge empty pitch-dark room.
"God, we fucked like crazy!" Jack blurted out happily, as he and Gayle, holding hands like two high-school sweethearts, staggered out onto the sidewalk and started looking for a cab.
"I know, darling," Gayle groaned. "My cunt's going to be sore for a week, I just know it ... oh, I love you, Jack! What a difference it makes when you're in love with the guy you're screwing-not that Erica and Viorica and that what's-his-name, Jeremy? aren't nice. I loved it! But I love you, darling. If you ever forget it, just remember how much we loved each other in there while we were stoned and balling our brains out together in front of the others. I never came like that before in my life ... come on, darling, let's hurry home. I'm still as horny as hell for you!"
